Lock (16 page)

She paused at a fruit cart and bought a sack of apples which she gave to Lock to carry, then a sack of wheat which he slung over his other shoulder.

When they passed the fish cart, the fisherwoman stood talking with the tall blacksmith, two of the women who’d “inspected” Lock several days ago.

“So, Sparrow, you got your man to behave?” The blacksmith offered a toothy smile. Her arms folded beneath her small breasts, which appeared more like a man’s pectorals. She stepped closer to Lock, her gaze sweeping him.

“How long has he been unchained?” The fisherwoman stared hard at the couple from beneath her fuzzy white eyebrows. “Several cottages were robbed a few days ago.”

“It wasn’t him,” Sparrow snapped.

“He is a pirate,” the blacksmith said.

“I know it wasn’t him because two nights ago thieves followed me home, and if it hadn’t been for Lock, I’d have been robbed, raped, and probably murdered.”

“He protected you?”

Sparrow gazed at Lock, resisting the urge to kiss him in front of the entire village. “He’s very loyal.”

The blacksmith said, “Now that he’s tamed, you could fetch a high price for him at the palace in Begonia.”

“I’m not selling.”

The blacksmith and the fisherwoman exchanged glances and smiled at Sparrow.

“Perhaps you use him for more than farm work.” The blacksmith’s eyes fixed on the enticing bulge in Lock’s trousers. Sparrow knew she was remembering the sight of him naked, and jealousy burned in her gut. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to sell him if that’s the case. He’s young and strong, and he looks like he’s loaded with stamina. How about loaning him out? I’ll shoe all your horses for free if you let me bed him.”

Lock glanced at the blacksmith from head to foot and said, “Tell her to throw in either a blindfold or an aphrodisiac because that’s the only way a man could get hard facing her.”

The blacksmith’s fists clenched and if Sparrow hadn’t stepped between her and Lock, she probably would have hit him.

The fisherwoman glared at him and told Sparrow, “You should cut out his foul tongue!”

“No,” Sparrow smiled as she and Lock continued on their way, “his tongue is one of his greatest assets. And he’s also not for sale or for rent.”

“Good luck to you!” snarled the blacksmith. “I wouldn’t really have paid for that scarred freak, anyway! I just thought I’d do you a favor and free you of him for a couple of hours!”

“A couple of hours?” Lock muttered to Sparrow. “She could probably kill a White Island yak after five minutes.”

Sparrow ran a fingertip across his belly. “You might say that about me after tonight. That little trick you taught me with the leather belt and the flower petals, I want to practice more.”

He laughed. “I knew you’d like that one. I won’t tell you where I learned it, though.”

“Somehow I don’t think I’d like to hear.”

“And I’m wise enough to know it.” He dumped the sacks in their wagon. “Anything else while we’re here?”

“No. I just want to go home so we can practice.”

“There’s work to do first. Wouldn’t want to neglect your farm.”

Sparrow smiled. At least now it was back to being
her
farm.

“Everybody look out!” a man’s voice shouted before five horses tore through the village square.

Lock grasped Sparrow in one arm and hoisted her onto the wagon beside him before she was trampled.

She pointed to the group of horses and the man following them on his own chestnut mount. “He comes here sometimes to sell horses. That’s where we got ours.”

“He’s a jackass.” Lock glared in the man’s direction, but his eyes drifted to a big-boned white stallion who had just kicked over the fisherwoman’s cart. The animal’s eyes were wild, its dirt-stained coat damp with sweat.

Shaking her fist, the fisherwoman bellowed, “Damn men! Every time they come to the village, they ruin something!

“Sorry, old woman.” The horseman nodded in her direction, lassoed the stallion, and whipped him hard across the flanks. The horse bucked, nearly kicking several passers by.

Sparrow noted the horse’s sleek coat was marked with old scars. Apparently, the horseman used his whip often.

“You can’t tame anything that way.” Sparrow shook her head as the man continued beating the horse and bellowing curses. Lock stepped from the wagon. “Where are you going? Lock!”

She hurried after him.

The horseman raised his whip, and Lock jerked it from his hand.

“Who the hell are you?” The horseman snarled at Lock. “Give me that whip back!”

Lock glanced at the well several paces to his left. He tossed the whip down the deep, dark hole.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” the horseman’s teeth clenched with fury, and he slid his foot from the stirrup to kick Lock in the face.

Lock caught his foot and yanked him from the saddle. The man landed with a grunt on his back.

“I’ll beat you within an inch of your life! I’ll…” The man spat a mouthful of dirt, climbed to his feet, and paused in his speech as he found himself at eye-level with Lock’s broad chest. He craned his neck to look into the pirate’s face with its animal-like bone structure and demonic eyes. “I’ll be on my way. I don’t have time for this, but the guards in Begonia will hear about it. A man can’t even sell his goods without being attacked…”

“Please, Sir.” Sparrow stepped forward. She placed a hand on Lock’s chest. “He didn’t mean anything. He has an aversion to whips.”

“I wonder why,” the blacksmith gloated, and Lock shot her a furious look. Sparrow’s heartbeat quickened. If she didn’t get him out of the village and back to the farm, who knew what else might happen?

“He’s my responsibility,” Sparrow continued. “I’ll pay for the damages.”

The horseman’s eyes focused on Sparrow’s money pouch from which she counted several coins.

“Well, I suppose for a beautiful woman I can be lenient.” The man rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Let’s say five silver pieces and call it even.”

“That’s robbery!” Lock bellowed.

“Will you shut up?” Sparrow hissed through clenched teeth.

Lock threw up his hands in disgust and walked away while Sparrow paid the horseman.

After he’d pocketed the money, the man glanced over his shoulder and noticed Lock stroking the stallion’s neck. Though trembling, the horse seemed calmer beneath the pirate’s touch. Sparrow almost smiled. He and the horse were so similar, both spirited, handsome, battle-scarred…

“Get your hands off that animal, slave!” the horseman bellowed. “He’s going to the slaughterhouse from here. No one’s got any use for a horse that can’t be trained.”

“Maybe
you
can’t train him,” Lock said.

“Others have tried.”

“With a whip?”

“It usually works,” the horseman glanced at one of Lock’s scarred shoulders, “as you must know.”

Lock took a step toward the man, and Sparrow said quickly, “How much for the horse?”

“Missy, you don’t want him.”

“Yes, I do.”

“She has a way with wild things.” The blacksmith winked in Sparrow’s direction.

“I don’t know…”

“You’re here to make a profit, aren’t you?” Sparrow placed a hand on her hip. “So how much?”

* * * * *

“That’s the last time I take you to the village.” Sparrow glanced at Lock from the corner of her eye as she drove the wagon toward the farm. “You’re far too expensive.”

Lock looked over his shoulder at the while stallion prancing behind the wagon. After paying the trader, he and Sparrow had taken the horse to the blacksmith’s stables where they’d cleaned him and tended his injuries. Several times the stallion tried nipping and kicking, but such behavior was understandable after the abuse he’d suffered. With proper handling, Lock was certain the beautiful horse would be well mannered and trainable. The idea of taming and riding him was almost as thrilling as the thought of sailing again.

He turned his gaze back to Sparrow and brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. He wasn’t exactly sure how to express what he felt for her or why she apparently felt so much for him. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“What?” she giggled.

“Why?”

“I like you.”

“What’s to like? I haven’t treated you very well since I’ve known you.”

“I think you’ve probably treated me better than you’ve ever treated anyone.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Sparrow stopped the wagon and kissed him. He slid his arms around her and murmured, “I guess so.”

Lock picked up the reins, and as they continued home, wondered if he was capable of love after all.

At the farm, Sparrow cooked and did the wash while Lock worked the field and tended the livestock.

It was late afternoon when she began hanging laundry on the lines behind the house. She saw Lock and the stallion in the fenced off portion of field where Daphne usually grazed. As she pinned up towels, undergarments, and shirts, she watched Lock’s attempts at taming the horse. The animal was wary from years of abuse and used its fierce temper and strength to defend itself. Again Sparrow was struck by the similarities between pirate and stallion.

She was a bit surprised by Lock’s patience. She held her breath the first time he attempted to mount the horse bareback. The animal threw him, and he landed hard.

“Will you be careful!” Sparrow shouted to him.

He stood, winked at her, and raised a finger to his lips. The stallion grew agitated from the sound of her voice, and Sparrow scolded herself. If he was going to gain the white beast’s trust, she shouldn’t interfere.

She watched the battle between horse and man for as long as she could stand seeing Lock thrown to the grass.

“Crazy,” she muttered. “He’d going to knock his brains out—at least what brains he has.”

She walked back to the house and continued with her chores, trying to forget about Lock until dusk fell when she stepped outside to call him for dinner.

She smiled when she saw him on the stallion’s back, riding the perimeter of the fence. Horse and rider were both tall and beautiful, the horse’s white coat blending with the white streaks in Lock’s hair.

She approached the fence and spoke quietly, “Good job.”

Lock stopped the horse with a gentle tug on the reins. He patted the animal’s muscular neck. “Took a while, but as you said, I’m stubborn.”

“Just ask the pig.”

He laughed. “I’ll start him with the saddle gradually.”

“Yes,” she nodded toward his crotch, “that can’t be good for important parts of you.”

“That’s why we have knees, girl.” He gripped the horse’s sides, then tossed her a roguish grin. “But if you still think it’s damaged and want to massage it later…”

“In your dreams.”

“Each and every night.”

“Supper’s nearly ready, so you better cool him down and put him to bed for the night,” she said and turned back to the house, giddy as she thought about the dessert to come once they were in
their
bed. She’d probably end up giving the incorrigible demon that risqué massage after all.

Inside, Sparrow brought stew, bread, and cooked apples to the table while Lock washed in a basin of water and changed his shirt.

They sat together and began eating.

“It seemed to bother you when that blacksmith made an offer for me.”

“Wouldn’t it bother you if someone offered money for my body?”

“When I got through with him, he’d never have to think about bedding a woman again.” Lock ripped a chunk of bread from the loaf and took a bite, his pale eyes gleaming. “I’d geld him just for the suggestion.”

Sparrow squirmed in her seat, a thrill coursing through her. She never realized how exciting it was to have a man willing—and well able—to protect her. “And if that blond-haired gladiator had laid a hand on you, I’d have torn her breasts off.”

Lock threw the bread aside, finished what he was chewing and dragged her chair closer to his. He licked her lips, glossy from the stew, and kissed her. Sparrow locked her arms around his neck and straddled his lap.

“This is the only stallion I want to ride,” she whispered against his lips. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, her fingertips tracing his ribs and clutching his hair-roughened pectorals.

Lock stood, lifting her onto the table and shoving aside the bread and bowls of food. He tugged off her shirt and pushed her onto her back, his mouth devouring her breasts, his hands caressing her belly and hips. He tugged her trousers down to her ankles, and as he dropped his own, she kicked hers aside and wrapped her legs around his waist. She sighed as his cock plunged deep inside her, his hands splayed across her back. Raising her enough to capture one nipple between his lips, he sucked hard and nibbled the tip.

“Goddess have mercy,” she said breathlessly, closing her eyes and clutching handfuls of his thick, kinky hair.

His lips traveled over her breasts and throat.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice raw with passion. Sparrow’s eyes opened halfway and she gazed into his pale blue ones. He slowed his movements and traced her lips with his thumb. “How do you like it, Princess?”