As his tongue teased and tormented, drawing forth her desire, his hands cupped her buttocks and lifted her so that she was sitting on the edge of the table. Her arms around him, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him forward, until his manhood was against her, ready for the pleasure to come.
He pushed up her skirt and shift, and in a whisper, his breathing already ragged with need, asked her to untie his breeches. She needed no second urging, but quickly did as he requested. When he was free, she grabbed his broad shoulders to steady herself.
This was no leisurely, gentle coupling. With one swift thrust he was inside her, encircled by her moist warmth, tight around his shaft. She pressed her mouth against his neck, muffling the cry of exultation as he drove home. Then again. Withdrawing a little, he plunged inside once more as the sensations spurred him.
She clenched her teeth and, breathing hard, stifled the cries of ecstatic completion as they came together, the tension snapping and their muted cries filling the air.
Leaning against her, spent and sated, he closed his eyes and held her to him. Constance. His love. His wife.
His weakness.
THAT NIGHT, A HAND COVERED the old man’s mouth, waking him instantly. Unable to see, Peder immediately started struggling and trying to bite, kick or punch whatever stinking thief was holding him down.
“It’s me!” a voice he hadn’t expected to hear again hissed in his ear. “Talek.”
When Peder stopped struggling, Talek cautiously removed his hand. Peder sat up, peering in the dim light from the glow of what was left of his fire in the hearth. Talek’s clothes were stained and soiled and torn in places, as if he’d lived rough on the moor or in a cave, and he reeked of ale.
“What are you doing here?” Peder demanded. “What if somebody’s seen you?”
“Nobody saw me,” the former garrison commander mumbled as he hunched by the fire, his arms wrapped around himself, his hands filthy, his nails broken. “By God, I wish I’d gone to France when I had the chance. I could have met Pierre at the cove last time he came. But now that bastard in the castle’s got patrols all over the road and in the woods since the fire. I can’t get near the sea.”
Peder shifted so that he was warmed by the heat from the hearth, and so that he could see Talek better. “He didn’t need to smell him any better to guess part of the man’s trouble. Talek’s hands also trembled like a sot’s, and his eyes were bloodshot. “I thought you were going to stay close by in case Lady Constance needed your help.”
“And I did, didn’t I?” Talek grumbled. “But she’s gone and married the bastard, hasn’t she? No point in staying here and risking my neck for her anymore. So now I need your help. I’ve got to get a ship to France or somewhere—anywhere—else.” He scowled darkly. “If that bastard finds me, I’m a dead man for sure.”
“He didn’t kill you before.”
“Likely because he didn’t want to upset Lady Constance more than he did. But now that she’s his wife, he probably doesn’t give a damn if she’ll be angry or not. He’ll kill me as soon as look at me.”
“I would have believed that once, but now…?” Peder shook his head. “He’s not given us any cause to think he’s a heartless brute like his father.”
Peder tilted his head to regard his friend. “Where exactly were you when the mill was set on fire?”
“Nowhere near,” Talek answered. “I was in the wood, in the cave where you hide your tin.”
“No, you weren’t,” Peder slowly replied. “I was there making sure my cache was still safe when I saw the flames.” The old man’s eyes seemed to bore into those of the former garrison commander. “I’m only going to ask you this once more, Talek, and you’d better tell me the truth. Where were you when the mill caught fire?”
“All right…I was drunk,” Talek muttered, looking away. “Drunk as a lord, drunk like Wicked William. Aye, and I was angry, too. Angry and stupid.” He bowed his head and mumbled, “I never would have done it if I’d’a been sober. I just wanted to make a bit of troublefor him before I left, that’s all. I swear on my sainted mother’s life.”
Peder got to his feet and glared at Talek. “You did it? You set the mill on fire?”
“No!” Talek cried, jumping up. “Just the shed. That’s all. It just…it just got out of hand and—”
“Out of hand!” Peder retorted. “Out of hand? You destroyed it, man, and it’ll be weeks before it’s right. What the devil got into you?”
“I wanted to pay him back! Twenty years—twenty years I served Lord William. Did his dirty work. Guarded his brat of a son. Twenty years and he sends me away—”
“You drunken fool! You hurt everyone in Tregellas more than him. He can buy what he needs, but the rest of us can’t. What about all the farmers who lost their grain? All the women who have to grind their family’s wheat by hand if they’re to have any bread? I should take you to the castle and throw you into the dungeon myself.”
Talek’s hand went to his sword and his eyes gleamed fiercely. “I wouldn’t try it, if I were you. And I wouldn’t tell anybody you seen me. In fact, old man, you should help me get clear away, because if I get caught, it’ll be the noose for you. I know where your cache is, and all about Pierre. If I have to, I’ll tell that bastard in the castle everything I know.”
Peder’s hands, calloused and still powerful despite his years, balled into fists. “You would, too, wouldn’t you? You’d betray us all.”
“If I had to. Now give me what money you’ve got and get me out of Tregellas.”
Peder shook his head. “I won’t lift a finger to help you.”
Talek drew his sword. “You’d better, old man, or I’ll run you through.” He stuck the point of his sword on Peder’s chest, then reached out to grab Peder by the arm. “If you won’t help me flee willingly, I’ll just have to take you with me.”
