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“What happened to you? Did he…? Have you been harmed? Or mistreated?”
Flora assured him she was well and unhurt. They all were. The English had forced them to work in their fields, replanting crops and making good the damage done by the reivers.
The matter was not done with, nowhere close. Robert was not a man given to senseless violence, but he now had a score to settle with Otterburn. The marquis might have been sorely provoked, but he need not think he could lead his soldiers onto MacKinnon lands, attack their homes, and seize his kin without repercussions. And there was Flora, his precious sister. It was only by the grace of God that she had emerged unscathed. She had been in the hands of their sworn enemies for almost a month. Anything might have befallen her.
Oh, yes. There would be a reckoning, but for now, Robert wanted only to offer up thanks to a merciful Saviour that his sister and his people were safe.
He would take his sister home. Otterburn could wait.
February, 1491
Nantes, Brittany
“Je t’aime, chérie”
Robert stiffened, unable to return the sentiment, but nevertheless he allowed the voluptuous and truly lovely Ghislaine to press her ample breasts against his ribs. Her leg was slung across his thighs and her arm over his chest. She teased his nipple with her skilful tongue, at the same time walking her fingers down his abdomen and across his belly. She wrapped her fist around his cock and squeezed.
“Je te veux. Maintenant. Ne me fait pas attendre…”
Robert had not the slightest intention of making the lady wait. Madame Pelletier was not a woman renowned for her patience, nor her fidelity. He knew for a fact that Ghislaine had uttered exactly the same endearments to her previous lover not two days earlier since the man was a close associate of Robert’s and they had played cards together immediately after the encounter. Ghislaine Pelletier was one of the most sought-after courtesans to grace the French royal circle. Julien Picard had been most complimentary regarding her talents and urged Robert to make the lady’s acquaintance. Robert had done so without delay, and as a result found himself ensconced in the lady’s bed, naked, with his cock in her mouth.
There were worse ways to spend a chilly afternoon in February, whilst he awaited the arrival in Nantes of the French king.
Robert’s diplomatic duties were virtually at an end. Through Robert, his proxy, James of Scotland, had pledged his support for the French monarch in his struggle to gain control of Brittany. That campaign had proven successful. Scotland and France were firm allies as a result, which afforded James the expectation of support in the ongoing struggle between the Scottish and English crowns.
Robert was aware that his own sovereign sought to avoid open hostilities with their neighbour to the south and already negotiations were far advanced which would culminate in a marriage between James and the young Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry Tudor. But the princess was not yet two years old, so that union would not come to fruition until sometime in the fairly distant future. James required security now, and this alliance with the French was vital.
Robert stretched out on Madame Pelletier’s mattress and thrust his hips forward, driving his cock to the back of her mouth. She opened for him and somehow managed to curl her tongue around the shaft and suck.
Jesu, but this woman is a true artiste…
His balls contracted. He let out an animalistic shout. His semen surged forth to fill the delectable Ghislaine’s throat.
She gurgled, then swallowed.
He filled her throat once more, and she swallowed that, also. Was there no end to this lady’s talents? Or her endurance? He had already fucked her twice, and she seemed eager to accommodate him again.
Robert suspected that she would outlast him, but they were not quite at that point yet. His cock softened, and he took the opportunity to ease himself from beneath his companion and pour both of them a goblet of wine. By the time he had drained his goblet, Ghislaine’s clever fingers had done their work yet again. He was hard and ready to oblige her once more.
Robert rolled her onto her back and slung her ankles over his shoulders. He paused for a moment to admire the fetching sight of her amply curved naked body spread out for this pleasure, her cunny glistening with his essence and her own juices.
Ah, yes, there were worse ways indeed to pass the time.
He positioned the crown of his cock at her entrance then buried himself balls-deep inside her.
“Robert! Robert, hold up.”
He was on his way back to his lodgings in theChâteau des ducs de Bretagne, the palace which was home to the dukes of Brittany. Robert reined in his mount and twisted in the saddle to see who hailed him, in English, so far from home.
“Charles!” His features split in a wide smile at the sight of his cousin and close friend. “What are you doing here?”
Charles MacKinnon cantered up alongside him and reached out to clasp Robert’s hand. “I am looking for you, you idiot. And, may I say, ye’re a man who takes some finding. I’ve been traipsing about this damned country for weeks trying tae track ye down.”
Robert’s happiness at seeing his old friend evaporated instantly. “Is something amiss? At Roxburghe?”
“Aye, ye could say that.” Charles met his gaze, and now neither man was smiling. “I came tae bring ye home, Robbie. Ye’re sorely needed.”
“A child?” Robert could barely comprehend what he was hearing. “My sister is to have a child? And you say Otterburn is rumoured to be the father? But she told me… She swore to me that he never touched her.”
