The Hunted Bride Page 10

  Gervais hid a smile. It wasn’t the men who risked his ire, but his woman. For if she came, lost control of her arousal, then all would know it. Yet, there was something exciting about having her exhibit her wantonness. The others would be jealous of Gervais’s good fortune; it was the nature of these men to cast aside virtues and applaud base behaviour. Once, he too was party to such desires, now he was aware that it would demean his lady and leave him with an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that was strange to him.

  “I think, my love, you should be excused while we continue our boring discourse of matters of war and upheaval. You’ll find it most unappealing.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

  The pulse was obvious, the damp heat in her palm, too.

  “Yes, my lord. Thank you,” she said hastily.

  The men rose, Caspian scowling, and she beat a retreat that made her bells jangle noisily. He wondered if she would manage to reach her chamber before fate struck and rendered her incapable. A question for later.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She reached her room and tore off the veil. Sara was on her heels and picked up the headdress from where Matilda had flung it.

  Matilda lifted her skirts. “Help me. It must come off. Oh, Sara, be quick, I’m undone and...” She glanced down at her bare thighs. And wet.

  “My lady, he said you must not remove it.”

  “I care not. I cannot bear another moment of this... this torture.”

  “If it pains you, my lady, then it must be removed.” Sara helped her out of her gown, revealing the harness and the pinked skin of her breasts and neck. The peak of each of her nipples was engorged and swollen, while below, the taut strap had rubbed her so much, she had created a liquid surrounding for it to glide against.

  “Pain? This is beyond pain, Sara. It’s... it’s excruciating.” She tugged on the belt around her waist while Sara unbuckled it.

  The relief came instantly. The weights dropped and with nothing to hold them in place, the two carved pears easily slipped out. The rest of the harness was quickly undone, and the whole tangle of leather and buckles clattered onto the floor.

  Matilda sighed. “Now I can breathe, and move, and the cruel impediments are gone. I thought, out there, I would unravel and embarrass myself. It was so hard, Sara, to keep my mind from wandering and my body from sinking to the depths of depravity.”

  “Well, at least the discomfort has gone.”

  Had it? Pain wasn’t the issue, not in the way the Sara probably imagined it. Torture came in many forms and sometimes it was not the inflicting of pain that caused a person to betray themselves, but the anguish of unrequited satisfaction. She had learnt that with Father Mark when he’d whispered in her ear, telling her that she was depraved and damned if she sought relief in privacy. Only he, he’d declared, could bring salvation through suffering. She had disobeyed him frequently on that matter.

  Naked and hot, she surveyed the spoilt harness. She bent and picked it up. “Hide it, Sara. Somewhere, anywhere, and keep its location a secret.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t have him use that on me again. I’ll not be able to save myself a second time. The moment those things are stuffed inside of me, I shall vacate all reason and humiliate myself.”

  Sara stared at her, bewildered. “I don’t understand, my lady.”

  “They... they bring out the worst in my desires, you foolish girl. Now, quickly, do as I say instead of gaping at me.” Her anger was back, something she had kept under control since arriving at Baliol Castle. Sara, accustomed to such tantrums, huffed and removed the offending item from her sight. Where she hid it, Matilda cared not to know.

  Sara extinguished nearly all of the tapers and stoked the fire one last time before retiring to her spot by the hearth. Matilda lay on the bed with her eyes shut, wrapped in a cocoon of bedcovers, and cupped her poor sex. It ached and pulsated, as if she had come a million times, but she hadn’t, and the discomfort was due to the lack of climax. Dare she force one out, knowing that he might visit her at any time of the night? It was worth the risk, for surely, he would be drunk with the men, and incapable. With Sara snoring on the floor, Matilda circled her tender clitoris, gently soothing it at first, before briskly agitating it.

  She moaned, savouring the tingling sensations, keeping herself on the edge, then feeling the inevitable was close, she opened her eyes and...

  Gervais was there, by the bed, his arms folded, his gaze stern and despairing.

  Matilda jerked upright and screamed. Sara leapt to her feet and shrieked, and outside the room, Gervais’s loyal dog barked.

  He flung back the blankets and planted his hands on his hips. “Where is my harness, lady?”

  Her teeth chattered. “I don’t know.” It was the truth.

  “You removed it. I expressly said you should keep it on.”

  The marks of the straps had nearly faded into nothing. Her breasts, although firm, had lost their sheen, and the nipples were flatter. Time had passed, but how much she wasn’t sure. She smelt some hint of wine, but otherwise, her lord was sober and bolt upright without a sway or stagger of drunkenness.

  “It... hurt me,” she said eventually.

  “Hurt you?” His eyes narrowed into slits. “Really? Did you not walk carefully, so that the bells hardly sounded? No, they chimed like church bells, did they not?”

  “I ran...” She bit her lip.

  “And the chafing was too much? I think that you abandoned the harness in a fit of pique and gave up on the challenge. Did it not cross your mind that I might dismantle it myself? Could you not imagine how I might do that, and what pleasure it might bring both of us?”

  She lowered her head. “No, sir.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know.” She clasped her hands together. “I wanted it gone, so...” She glanced to Sara.

  Gervais walked toward the diminutive servant. “Sara,” he said pleasantly. “Where is my harness?”

  “It’s...” The maid’s eyes brimmed with tears. “She asked me not to say.”

  Gervais turned to face Matilda. “You put this poor girl in a difficult situation. Does she betray you, her beloved mistress, or anger me, the master of this castle and your future husband?”

  “Future? At this moment, there is no future for us. She is loyal to me, yes, and that is her prerogative.”

  “Very well, I shall not come between an honourable servant and her mistress. This is most unfortunate, because now I must punish you for wilful disobedience twice over. Once for removing the harness, and the second time for placing your maid in an impossible situation. Normally, I would thrash a servant who disobeys me, and do so with a birch or whip, so perhaps that will be your punishment.”

  “My lord... I thought that you would lie with me and... I could offer up my contrition.” She halted, seeing the rigid pose of his shoulders and the furrowing of his forehead.

  “You are a contrary creature. You imply we have no future together, yet crave my attention in bed. Do you think that will impress me, appeasing me with cheap sex, when I was willing to come to your bed and show you my gratitude for your excellent behaviour in the Great Hall? You held out, resisted Lord Caspian’s lecherous baiting, and presented yourself as a worthy bride.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “I had not thought myself to be so. I felt only the need to come and feared I might ruin myself in their presence. Your dismissal was all that I desired. I had no means to extradite myself, and the burden was almost too great for me to bear.”

  His severe stance relaxed. “You feared to fail me?”

  She nodded. “Most sincerely. I have never heard men talk of such things, not just of violent combat, but the debauched nature of their conquests, and how they treat captive women. It both appalled and... aroused me. I felt disgusted and thought that you would be too by my failure.”

  Gervais pursed his lips. “It seems I have hastened to condemn you. Is this why you removed the ha
rness and hid it?”

  She nodded.

  “I shan’t beat you with the whip or birch, although I will have to reprimand you for not waiting for my advice. As for Sara, ask her kindly to return my harness, and we shall discuss its future use for our mutual benefit.” He raised two expectant eyebrows.

  “Sara, fetch it. Please.”

  Sara scurried into the side room and reappeared with the harness. Gervais removed it from her hands and jerked his head to the door. “That will be all, Sara. You may leave your mistress in my safe hands.”

  The maid curtsied and closed the door behind her.

  Matilda hugged her knees. “I suppose you want to take me to the tower.”

  “When my guests are departed, I shall. It is necessary and unfortunate, but you’ll not endure as much as I originally planned. My hand will suffice.”

  She cast aside the picture forming in her mind, knowing it tantalised her when it should not.

  He smiled. “Your face always betrays you, Tilda. It’s why my heart softens for you so easily.”

  “It does?” She had not heard him mention his heart without coupling it to his baser needs.

  She crawled toward him, catlike. “Will it not soften more if I submit to the harness again?”

  “Soften? No, beat faster, most certainly. This time, you will assist me. The hoops around your breast will be tighter, but you will choose when I release them. As for the phallus in your cunt, I shall forgo it, because I have something else I wish to put there.”

  She missed a breath. “What?”

  “My cock.”

  The second time he fitted the straps, she sighed with delight. She listened to his rapid breathing, noting how excited he was when her breasts stood out and hot blood rose to the surface of the skin. She expected him to toy with them using his mouth and fingers, and she wasn’t disappointed. He spent some time, his naked body pressed against her, with his lips and tongue working her into a frenzy, allowing her to come whenever she wished. Below, he had inserted the heavy phallus in her rear passage, and it stayed there even when she climaxed. What was different this time was that he had detached the phallus and used it independently. The strap that had tormented her clitoris hung loose and unused. The rest of the harness was coiled tightly around her and its purpose went beyond simply ensnaring her.

  He commanded her to present herself on all fours, knees bent and her weight distributed down her arms onto her hands. He grasped the leather belt encircling her waist with one hand, and the strap pinioning her breasts with the other, and rode her exuberantly, using his cock to thrust in and out of her pussy. The harness would not yield to him, and consequently, she had no means to escape, and with the rhythm set, he pounded, ensuring each rock of his hips slammed against her bottom, and the constant pummelling knocked the wooden phallus back in place each time it slipped out a fraction.

  Her saffron hair swayed, forming a curtain around her head, while underneath, her heavy breasts throbbed. She was fast approaching the pinnacle of an orgasm, when she realised what she must plead for.

  “Please, my lord, release my poor breasts. They beg for your mercy.”

  He chuckled, pausing a moment to catch his breath. “You think they will be forgiving? Well, perhaps you should find out.” He resumed his exertions, and slowly unbuckled the strap across her back.

  The blood, far from channelling out of her nipples, pooled and the rush of heat scorched her. She screamed and came in a duet of confused sensations. The pain was creative in its use of her pleasure, drawing out the contractions that ferried themselves from one part of her body to the other. She hovered, unable to breathe, on a plateau, and through it, he fucked her using the phallus and his cock. The dual penetrations kept her coming for some time, and she lost all sense of earthly consciousness, only vaguely aware that he spilt inside of her and that the spurts endured long enough to splatter an excess over her bottom and back.

  Ravished and defiled by his ardent lust to claim her, she had discovered something about herself that she barely could conceive. The harness had held her captive, and when he had released it, she had experienced an incredible orgasm. But it was only achievable because she had been captive and unable to relieve herself of the harness.

  She wanted to experience captivity again, but the next time not in a harness. At some point, she would have to confess to Gervais that the more he controlled her, the harder it was not to admit to herself that she was falling in love with him.

  Poor Geoffrey. How ignorant he was lying on his bed and waiting for her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  She rose early and lingered for a while alone in her bedroom. Gervais had left her in the middle of the night with her body exhausted, her mind spent of emotions. Her promised punishment awaited her later in the day. Gervais was out hunting with his companions and until they left, she had only trepidation for company.

  In need of distraction, she summoned a minstrel, who wandered the castle precincts, and invited him to entertain her. He chose sprightly folk songs, which brought out a melancholy in her, so after Sara whispered in his ear, he changed his tone and sang of love and chivalrous knights, tunes that matched her mood.

  He had travelled far and wide, she deduced, because she had not heard many of his songs, and the ones that intrigued her the most came from the dark forests in the east where people lived cheek by jowl with wilder creatures and retold myths as old as the mountains.

  She stopped him. “What myths?”

  “Ah, my lady, not for your fair ears.” He lay down his lyre.

  “Oh, please. My lord has travelled to such places, what tales has he heard?” She offered the man a sweetmeat from her plate. Gauntly featured with a slightly crooked nose, he snaffled the food and scratched his tonsure. According to Sara, he had been a monk for a while.

  “There’s the duke, of course, and his long crusades against the rabid folk of the ice plains who eat babies.”

  She heard of that one and had it on good authority it was a lie. The duke preferred to fight closer to home where the spoils of war were rich. She rolled her eyes. “Have some sense, please.”

  “Then, there’s the great river, it weaves into the bowels of the valleys and from it something devours the pasture animals, giant tentacles that reach out and gobble up the cows. It is said the creature must be fed twice a day with,” he lowered his voice, “virgins.”

  Sara giggled. “That one was quite good, don’t you think, my lady?”

  “I suppose. But honestly, what is the fascination with virgins,” said Matilda soulfully.

  “That isn’t the only one I’ve heard,” the minstrel said. He eyed the dish.

  Matilda passed him another portion of sweetmeat. “Tell me.”

  “Tis said there are brazen lords who lust so greatly, nothing will crush their appetite. Evil, cruel beasts of men, who ride into forests and hunt maidens. Bare maidens tossed into the darkest places and left to fend for themselves against this abhorrent foe. These titanic knights capture them, plunder them, and then cast them aside, their innocence lost, and unsuitable for any other man to love.”

  Matilda looked out of the oriel window to the valley below, where the river flowed and the forest spread as far as the eye could see. There were no monsters out there, not in the river or forest, but there were hunters, and she wondered if they believed such tales, or whether they laughed them off as fantasies of poor folk seeking titillation. The minstrel’s eyes were certainly vibrant and enjoyed telling the story.

  “I see,” she murmured. “When you were a monk, perhaps you offered comfort to one of these castoffs, is that how you heard of it?”

  He blushed and brushed the crumbs from his tunic. Picking up his lyre, he plucked at a string. “It’s all nonsense, my lady. Just folktales and exaggerated. If I had been a monk, then I would have been happy singing hymns and have no need to entertain gentlefolk.”

  He sang a few more unassuming songs of love and left. Matilda stared out of the wind
ow. From out of the forest rode the lords with their squires and attendants. There were no women amongst their midst, only men burdened with poles carrying the felled stag and several braces of pheasants and rabbits. Gervais led the way, his bow slung across his back. They wound their way up the path and out of her sight. A little while later, dogs barking heralded their arrival in the courtyard.

  “Best make yourself scarce, my lady,” Sara said, collecting up their sewing. “His lordship was most specific that you should not been seen.”

  After midday, the horde, a jovial band of satisfied men, left the castle bound for another unknown destination. The extent of their satisfaction was apparent when rumours reached Sara’s and Matilda’s ears that the men had enjoyed the looser women who lurked near the castle and had taken them to their beds. At dawn, Gervais had roused the household and had the women thrown out as the men snored.

  Arriving in Matilda’s room, he said nothing of the antics of his guests, or the success of the hunt. He merely took her hand and escorted her to the tower and his promised appointment.

  Matilda dragged her heels. “Did I not please you last night?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But I said you should atone for disobedience and I am a man of my word.”

  “Then, could I not plead for a reprieve? I am sorry.” She plucked at his sleeve.

  He turned the key in the door. “Over my knees and naked, you may plead as much as you like while I spank you. I shall enjoy the protestations.”

  She huffed. “You take pleasure in this, don’t you?”

  “I take pleasure in that sweet pout, my Tilda. It is fetching in its contrivance, and I know that when I strip you naked, your body will be both equally petulant and deceitful.”

  Her mouth gaped. How could he possibly know the extent of her readiness when she had tried so hard to make it appear she was resisting? Should she try harder?

  He waved her up the stairs to the top room. “After you.”