Hellion (39 page)

He left them, and at once Hugh was behind Vivienne. He
pulled her tunic dress off. His fingers quickly unlaced her smock and his hands gathered up her large, round breasts, crushing them cruelly, which he knew she enjoyed, his lips and tongue on her shoulders and neck. “If this corridor weren’t so damned narrow,” he growled in her ear, “I’d fuck you till you screamed your pleasure, Vivi!”

“
Look!
” she said, enjoying her lover’s attentions, but equally fascinated by what she could see through the peephole.

Guy d’ Bretagne entered his bedchamber, and before the startled eyes of his captive, removed all of his garments so that he was as naked as she was. Coming over to the black leather bench, he bent and kissed her mouth in greeting. “Has the phallus kept you good company while I was away, Belle?” he asked her, reaching down to grasp its gold ring. “Ahh,” he said softly, “I see you have bedewed it with your love juices. I will teach you to be more restrained in the future.”

“
Take it out!
” she whispered low.

“Not yet,” he said. “I have yet to show you the pleasure it can really bring you,
ma chérie.
” He began to rotate the phallus with a delicate motion, smiling at her soft cry.

“
Please, no!
” she sobbed. She believed as she had lain there all this time that she had finally managed to gain control over her body, but now she could see it was not so. The enjoyment he was inflicting upon her was a sweet torment such as she had never known. She writhed in an effort to escape him, even while knowing that she could not. The phallus drove deeper and deeper within her, until she was mindless with the pleasure-pain he was giving her. She wailed her frustration at being unable to defeat him, but her cries quickly turned to those of a woman approaching the ultimate heaven. Then his mouth closed over hers again, and she could remember little else but for the wave after wave of pure pleasure sweeping over her until finally it was no more.

She felt him withdraw the phallus as she lay gasping, her body drenched in its own sweat. She hadn’t believed that she could survive his vigorous attentions, but she had. She found
she couldn’t open her eyes; they were still too heavy with her satisfaction. Her body felt weak and totally limp. She felt him unlock the manacles that had bound her wrists and ankles. She lay exhausted, unable to even move. Then, to her shock, he began to bathe her sex with sweet warm water, working swiftly and efficiently. When he had finished, he lifted her up and laid her on his bed, drawing the coverlet over her. She heard the door to the chamber close, and slid away into sleep.

Guy found his sister and Hugh in the outer chamber. Neither was taken aback by his nudity. He smiled at them. “Did you enjoy my little spectacle? She is quite a marvelous young creature, isn’t she?”

Vivienne nodded in agreement. “You could not see, for you were unable to resist kissing her, but at the moment she reached her peak, her body arched so high I thought it would fly off the bench, Guy! You brought her along quite beautifully,
mon frère
; neither too quickly, nor too slowly; but then, you have always been a master of very good, nay, exceptional timing,” his sister praised him.

“And you, Hugh, did you enjoy watching the wench?”

“Aye!” Hugh said. “She has beautiful little breasts, and you know how I appreciate a woman’s breasts, brother. I can see that she will prove a fine winter’s amusement and companion.” He paused, and thought a moment. “I think I once knew a girl with hair that color, but I cannot remember now.”

“You do not have to remember,
chérie
,” Vivienne said in a soft, purring voice. “All you need to remember, my Hugh, is how much you love me. You do love me, don’t you?” Her look was for a brief moment vulnerable, much to her brother’s surprise.

“I have never loved anyone before you, Vivi,” Hugh said, “and I shall never love another even if I should live forever.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Let us go to our bed now,
chérie
, and leave your brother to his new plaything. Certainly she will have regained her strength by now for the new bout of Eros he will treat her to,” and Hugh Fauconier laughed wickedly as,
putting his arm about his mistress’s waist, he led Vivienne from her brother’s apartments.

Guy watched them go, and thought it was unfortunate that Vivienne had fallen in love with her captive. Usually Vivi took a man for lust, but this one had lasted far longer than any of the others. It was obvious that she was in love with him. Still, Hugh was easy to live with. Guy shook his head. Love was a weakness people like he and his sister could ill afford, but Vivienne would not want to hear it. He smiled to himself. As long as Hugh Fauconier kept her amused, she would be happy, and Vivienne’s happiness was really paramount. Picking up the plate he had brought from the Great Hall, he brought it into the bedchamber.

Chapter 14

B
elle lay sleeping, and for a moment Guy was tempted to leave her so, for he knew she must be exhausted after her long day. Then he decided against coddling her. The food would revive her, and he did not want to deny himself the pleasure of possessing her this night. There was a candle stand by the bed, and he set the plate upon it, all the while feasting his eyes upon her. She really was lovely, with her short, tousled red-gold hair and her white, white skin. Her fine breeding was more than evident. He sat beside her, running a finger down her bare arm, bending to kiss her soft shoulder. She stirred.

“I have brought you something to eat,” he said. “Open your eyes now, Belle. You must eat.”

She sighed, and reluctantly sat up. He propped pillows behind her back, drawing the coverlet down so he might see her charming little breasts as she ate. “I’m surprised that you remembered to bring me food,” she said daringly. “Your other appetites seem greater.” She reached for the plate, but he pulled it out of her reach.

“Unless I give you permission otherwise, Belle, the only food you will take will be from my own hand,” he told her quietly, setting the plate back down and cutting a piece of venison off the small joint. He held it to her lips, smiling.

For a moment she debated telling him to go to the devil from whence he had obviously come, but then she decided against it. Who knew what this sorcerer might do to her? She had to have nourishment, and if this was the only way she could get it, then
so be it. She opened her mouth and took the meat with her teeth, chewing it slowly. His eyes never left hers. At first she was uncomfortable in his gaze, but then she simply let it sweep over her, refusing to be the first to look away; defying him in the only way she knew how. She realized now that the gentle, musical voice and the tender touch were a sham. This could easily be a cruel and dangerous man. Yet if she pleased him, she would be allowed to remain within the castle. She would have the opportunity of reaching Hugh, and helping him break free of the sorceress’s enchantment.

Guy fed the girl in his bed, wondering as he did just what she might be thinking. The meat and bread were finally all devoured. “Lick my fingers clean now, Belle,” he ordered her, holding out his hands.

She took first one hand and then the other in her own two hands, bringing them to her mouth, slowly, and, to his pleasure, most thoroughly licking the venison juices and the butter from each finger, which she sucked individually. Her pink tongue lapped back and forth over his palms until they were completely free of any residue of her supper.

He smiled slowly. “That was well done,” he complimented her. Then he quartered the ripe pear and fed it to her. The sweet juices dripped down onto her breasts. He bent his head to lick them off, his tongue sweeping across her flesh in search of an errant drop of pear juice. When the pear had been eaten, she again took his hands in hers, and bathed them with her tongue without his even asking. She was intelligent, and that pleased him. This girl, he believed, he might take further than any of the others before her. He suspected that she would not be arrogant, as so many of the little peasants had become once they believed that Guy d’ Bretagne could not live without them. And when they became difficult, and too proud, he coldly gave them to his men-at-arms for a few nights of amusement. A proud wench’s disdainful ways were invariably swiftly cured beneath the unwashed bodies of a dozen or more men, whose
only objective was to release their baseborn seed as quickly as possible.

He saw Belle’s eye go to the plate, which still contained the small bunch of grapes. “You may have two,” he told her. “The rest are for me.” He plucked the grapes and popped them into her mouth.

She ate them, saying, “I would have thought that in the length of time you were gone, you would have eaten your fill.”

“I prefer my grapes a special way,” he told her. “Do not be so greedy. I do not want you fat and bloated like some farmwife.” He pressed her back into the pillows. “You took well to the phallus, Belle. You did not hold back your passion. Your former lover taught you well. How many lovers have you had, my pretty wench?”

“I had a husband, my lord. No lovers,” she answered him.

“What happened to this husband?” he wondered.

“My brother killed him,” she said, then amended, “not Lind. Richard, my lordly brother. I am not a woman of easy virtue, my lord.”

“Women of easy virtue lack passion,” he said. “You certainly do not. You yield to it most gracefully, and that pleases me.” He leaned toward her. “Come, and kiss me of your own free will, Belle. I want to feel your luscious mouth moving with conviction beneath my own.”

Isabelle looked into those deep violet eyes. She could feel her will being sapped once again, caught in that dark gaze. She could not, it seemed, fight him. Unbidden, her hand reached up to touch his cheek. His skin was so very fair, framed by his dark, dark hair. “I have never kissed a man I did not love,” she told him softly.

“Ahhh, but you are going to love me, Belle,” he answered her.

The words frightened her, for there was such a ring of certainty to them. Would she love him? How could she love him when she loved her dearest Hugh? But Hugh had forgotten her, did not know her. Guy’s eyes bore into her green-gold ones, and she could feel the warmth of his desire in the look. She had
to believe that her love for her husband could free him! But if she displeased Guy d’ Bretagne, she would be cast out of La Citadelle, and there would be no hope left at all. She had to kiss him, and kiss him with honest ardor. This man was far too skilled in matters of the heart to believe a lie.

Her lips touched his tentatively. He scarcely breathed, for he feared to break the spell. It was all he could do not to sweep her into his hard embrace. Instead he let her lips find their own rhythm, and to his shock, his heart soared as it never had before. He was intrigued with the sensation, and relinquished himself to it.

His lips were petal soft, she realized, and yet they were also firm. Their mouths seemed to part as if in response to a silent signal. Her facile little tongue slid into his mouth, encircling his, teasing him until he could finally stand no more. With a growl, he forced her back against the pillows, his lips suddenly fierce and very, very demanding. He kissed her until she was near to fainting, for she could not breathe. Seeing it, he eased back, pulling himself onto the bed, where he might more easily have access to her.

She felt his lips, hot and wet, insistent and fierce, as they slowly, slowly, made their way down the column of her ivory throat. He lingered at the pulse that beat under his mouth, enjoying the sensation of the blood that throbbed beneath his lips, knowing it must be singing in her ears, even as it now sang in his. The lips slipped even more slowly across her chest, burning insistently against the swollen flesh of her nipples. She could not restrain the soft moan that slipped from between her lips.

He pressed close against her now, one hand taking a breast completely in his hand to fondle it, while his dark head moved to capture the nipple of her other breast within the warm wetness of his mouth. He tongued the nipple, encircling it again and again until it felt raw and aching. Then she felt his sharp teeth gently scoring the tender flesh, sending needles of fire throughout her body. Suddenly, he drew hard upon her, and
she cried out softly, feeling a corresponding tug of desire in that hidden place between her thighs. Her body arched slightly.

He loosed the first breast, and his hand moved to insinuate itself between her legs, pushing past her moist, pouting netherlips to find, with unerring aim, her tiny pleasure pearl. “Ahhh, Belle,” he chided her tenderly. “Such impatience.” He stroked her until she thought she must surely die of the sweetness he had loosed to pour through her veins. Abruptly, he stopped, and pushing a hard pillow beneath her buttocks, said, “Open your legs for me, Belle. Wider. Wider. Aye, that will do, my precious.” For a moment his eyes gazed upon her vulnerability, and she blushed, the heat spreading from her chest up her face. “Nay,” he said gently, touching a hot cheek. “You are very beautiful there, Belle.” Then, to her shock, he began plucking the grapes and, with firm fingers, pushing them into her sheath one by one.