Seducing the Sheriff of Nottingham, page 19
part #5 of A Kinda Fairytale Series
“Yes. I wasn’t allowed to attend your fancy schools. I don’t know the specifics of this courtly tradition. Explain it.”
“It’s just a ceremonial thing. I told you last night, Maids are considered enfeebled, so we need some big, strong man to take care of us. When we accept a proposal, our new fiancé becomes like… our bodyguard, I guess. In return, he gets access to the body he’s guarding.”
All sexual activity in Nottingham had some calculation of exchange involved and virginity was one of the most valuable commodities on the market. Noblemen had tons of rituals about “protecting” it. It was all so unhealthy.
“What kind of access?” His touch slid down to caress the inside of her palm. “Be specific.”
“Theoretically, the groom is entitled to make certain demands.” This was all boring and backwards chivalry nonsense. She tilted her hand, so he could brush between her fingers and butterflies took off in her stomach. “He can touch his new bride. But, she doesn’t have to touch him and they can’t have intercourse. Not until after the wedding.”
“Define ‘touch.’ What parts and for how long?” Once he started talking, the man loved asking questions.
“This is a ceremonial thing.” She repeated a little baffled by his interest in arcane laws. Couldn’t he concentrate on hand holding? It was certainly all she could focus on. Was she too old to hold hands? Hopefully not, because she loved it. “Men don’t really make the demands. It’s just some sexist remnant of…”
He cut her off. “It’s still the law, isn’t it?”
Marion’s heartbeat sped up, finally realizing where this was headed. “Technically.”
“So, as your fiancé, where am I technically allowed to touch you, Marion?”
“Everywhere.” She heard herself whisper. “You’re allowed to touch me everywhere.”
Satisfaction glinted in his eyes. “Whenever I want?”
She bobbed her head, her blood thickening in her veins. “According to the law, my body is under your protection. You can touch it for as long as you want. Just so you pledge to take care of me.”
He very slowly smiled. The first real smile she’d ever seen from him and it was beautiful. It lit up his handsome face, softening the menacing angles and making him look almost boyish. “Deal.”
Uh-oh…
Marion yanked her hand back, trying to rally her thoughts. “I’m telling you, no one actually demands their betrothal rights. It’s all symbolic, Nick. Like how honor guards wear swords, with their snazzy uniforms. They’re not going to use them. They’re just for show. Some outdated, formal ritual.”
Nicholas crooked a finger at her. “Come here, Marion.”
She gaped at him.
“I don’t care what those pasty highborn assholes do. I’m demanding everything I’m entitled to.” He paused meaningfully. “…Or you can run.” It was a dare.
Marion swallowed. Her gaze flashed towards the door, thinking. Nicholas would never force her to do anything. She could walk out and he wouldn’t stop her.
But why in the world would she want to leave?
Her eyes flicked back to Nicholas.
“I will take care of you.” He promised quietly.
The intensity of his voice washed away the last bit of her hesitation. The vow sounded very, very serious when he gave it. When the chips were down, Marion knew she could only really count on herself, but still… her insides fluttered when he gave her the pledge of protection.
She slowly stood up, so she was directly in front of him. She was close enough to see the pulse in his neck hammering, just as hers was. The small tell gave Marion more confidence. Despite his demands, Nicholas wasn’t so sure this new plan of his was going to work. She liked that he was vulnerable, too.
“Now what?” She asked, her gaze on his.
He hesitated a beat, then his left palm reached out to settle on her waist. Two seconds ticked by. Then, his other hand slowly moved, as well. Big, thick fingers gently settled on the opposite side of her body, giving her time to retreat. Nicholas watched his rough palm curl around her waist and his chest expanded in a deep breath.
And Marion finally processed why he always tried to hide his right hand from her. It was the stoniest part of his body. He thought she would cringe away from it. Gray eyes flicked up to her face. He searched her expression, as if he expected rejection.
Marion arched a brow in flirtatious challenge. “Is this all we’re going to do, dumpling?”
Nicholas heard all the permission he needed in those playful words. Both hands tightened, dragging her down onto his lap.
Marion jolted in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to gain so much confidence so fast. She should have. Nicholas never missed an opportunity.
Her legs ended up on either side of his hips, her knees on the seat cushion. Even through the fabric of her stolen pants, she could feel the heat of him pressing against her core. It felt exotic and… nice. Really nice.
More than nice.
His right hand slid under the hem of her shirt, the textured skin of his thumb barely brushing over the flesh of her ribcage. Marion’s body got so wet so fast it was a wonder she didn’t come right then. Holy shit. She scrambled to think through the sudden heat, wanting to do everything right. Only she had no idea how she was supposed to think, when her body was on fire.
She seriously hated being a virgin.
Okay. She tried to rally. So Nicholas was amazing at this. No surprise. She needed to figure out her part, before he noticed she was an idiot. Marion bit her lower lip, trying to decide where her own hands should go. Fuck. Was he going to get annoyed because she didn’t know where her hands should go?
Nicholas felt her stiffen. “Alright?”
“Robin would be annoyed.” She blurted out.
Nicholas stilled.
Fuck.
Had any other Maid ever had a moment like this? She doubted it. None of the boring blue-blooded Nottingham men cared about their betrothal rights. To them, a Maid was just a trophy to win. If they wanted to get laid, they went to some pretty serving girl. Maids were supposed to be sexless and pure. Her whole value was in her virginity. Only Nicholas wanted to touch his untouched prize. It was sheer luck that she’d gotten this guy right where she wanted him and she was not about to screw it up.
“Hood will be very, very annoyed that I have my hands on you. Yes.” Nicholas said quietly, misunderstanding her nerves. He didn’t offer to let her go, though.
“No.” She waved Robin aside, with a dismissive laugh. “He wouldn’t be jealous. Not of me.”
Nicholas arched a skeptical brow.
“I meant, if he and I were doing this… And he was you…?” She cleared her throat. “Robin would be annoyed that I have no idea where my hands should go.” She held the awkward appendages up for him to see. “And I don’t want you to be annoyed.”
Nicholas stared at her.
Marion took a deep breath, trying to regain her normal, prison-learned bravado. You couldn’t show weakness or you’d be crushed. “I’m fine. Just give me a second. I’ll figure it out.” Weighing her options, she settled for reaching up to grasp the front of his uniform. “There.” See, she was getting the hang of this already.
Nicholas’ mouth curved in tenderness, the tension seeping from his muscles.
“I’m just not used to anyone touching me.” Marion told him defensively.
“Get used to it.” He advised. “As long as I have the right to do it, my hands will be all over you. At least, in private.”
Yes, that sounded very promising. Except… “Why just in private?”
His brows tugged together, not meeting her eyes. “It will ruin your reputation, if it seems like you want to be with me. Even a little.” He watched, seemingly fascinated, as his stony fingers grazed along the length of her neck. His coarse thumb traced the tender valley at the base of her throat. When she didn’t recoil, he gave a sigh of masculine possession.
She refused to be distracted. “Nick, I don’t want to be with you a ‘little.’ I want to be with you a lot. My reputation in this kingdom is meaningless to me, because the people passing judgement on me are meaningless. I don’t care what they think. I’m very happy here with you.”
He shook his head, like he didn’t believe that.
“It’s true!”
“I kidnapped you.”
“I’m not holding a grudge. It was years ago.”
“It was a couple days ago.” He retorted. “You’re not thinking clearly. Which is why I really shouldn’t be doing this.” Even as he said it, though, his palm smoothed over her hair and he gave a low groan at the feel of the strands sliding between his coarse fingers.
“I’ll make you a deal.” Marion promised in her most I’m-taking-this-ridiculous-conversation-seriously voice. “If anyone asks, I’ll claim I’m an innocent hostage, held in your granite clutches.”
“You are an innocent hostage, but you’re still going to bear the brunt of this, if it goes on. You heard Quarry this morning. Some asshole tried to break in to take you for himself, because he thought I’d soiled you. Shit like that will keep happening, Marion.”
“Well, maybe it’s not so terrible that you’re claiming your betrothal rights, then. It’s your job to guard my body.” Marion leaned closer to his ear, getting into this game. “You can just hang anyone who wants to steal me away from you.”
“I’ll end up killing half the kingdom.”
“They all suck, anyway.” She settled down more comfortably on his lap, gaining confidence. This was actually fun!
Nicholas was breathing faster, watching as her body relaxed under his touch. “If we kept this private, it would be a lot safer.” He tried, wanting to convince her of his stupid idea, but too turned on to think it all through.
“If I wanted safety, I’d already be on Neverland Beach.” She grinned. “Instead, I’m here with you.”
The smile was all it took.
Since she didn’t shove him away and run for her life, Nicholas was done hesitating. Massive hands swept upward to cover her breasts, like he owned them. Which according to the law, he kind of did. Marion didn’t care about the stupid betrothal rights rules, but the idea of Nicholas having erotic ownership of her body was weirdly hot. Like a dirty fantasy, where she could do nothing but let the dastardly sheriff have his wicked way with her.
Thanks to Nottingham’s chauvinist brainwashing, there was a lot of guilt tied into her sexuality. There always had been. Even in prison, Marion had shied away from sexual discussions. And she’d never let anyone touch her, although she’d had offers. Some of them more forceful that others. On the rare occasions she’d masturbated in her cell, she’d pictured Nicholas and then felt even lonelier afterwards.
All that baggage was bullshit and she knew it was bullshit, but it still messed with her head. The betrothal rights gave her an off ramp. They were just a silly tradition that nobody ever took seriously, so she didn’t have to worry. If Nicholas wanted to play, she was happy to let him navigate this whole encounter. She just had to sit there and enjoy the game.
And --holy crap!-- was she enjoying it.
Nicholas’ eyes nearly glowed, as he squeezed her breasts through the fabric of her shirt. “Oh I will definitely be guarding these.” He murmured.
His rock-hard hands massaged her delicate flesh and Marion gasped in pleasure. She had no idea that her breasts were so sensitive. So starved for attention. Inside her bra, her nipples grew even harder, wanting more of his touch.
Nicholas noticed their pleas. His gaze sharpened at the evidence of Marion’s own desire. “Take your shirt off.” He rasped. “Show me what I’m pledging to guard.”
That was a great idea. Possibly the greatest idea in the history of ideas. She hastily yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it aside.
Nicholas’ gaze was riveted on the lacy cups of her bra. He blinked rapidly, as if he was shocked she’d actually complied with his demand. “Betrothal rights are the greatest idea Nottingham’s ever come up with.” He decided in a strained voice, echoing her own thoughts. They were so in synch. “I’ve never been so happy to represent our legal system.”
“I guarantee, you’re the only groom who’s ever pushed the law this far.” Marion got out breathlessly. “I think you might just be the wickedest man in Nottingham.” It was a revelation!
“Are you sure you want to do this with a wicked gargoyle?” He asked, like he didn’t fully understand what was happening.
“I’m sure I want to do it with you.”
Nicholas’ thumbs brushed her aching nipples through the fabric of the bra. He seemed fascinated with the contrast of the black lace against her skin. Marion’s sharp, indrawn breath made his eyes glow. “Hood never saw these?”
Marion licked her lower lip. “Robin never had any betrothal rights. We were never really engaged.”
He glanced at her, hearing the evasion.
She made a face, relenting to the silent question, even though it was none of his business. She understood his insecurities. If Nicholas had been dating someone else for ten years, Marion would’ve shanked the bitch, by now. She was a bit over the brink of madness about the guy. “Robin did want to see me naked, before he went to war. Happy?”
“Thrilled.” Nicholas didn’t sound thrilled. He caught her in a firmer grip, like he was afraid she might slip away. His hatred of Robin was a live current in their relationship that could still burn everything.
Marion navigated carefully. “Robin insisted that he needed the mental image of me to remember what he was fighting for.”
“Richard’s greed?”
She ignored that snarky comment. “Well, we got to about this point, where I was in my underwear, but then I called it off. Robin had some… ideas about how we could get around the betrothal rights rules and that upset me. He shouldn’t have suggested that without a legitimate marriage proposal. I think it was a test of my chastity. He used to do stuff like that.”
“What kind of ideas did he suggest?” The question was deceptively calm.
She wrinkled her nose. “He wasn’t supposed to touch me. So, he said he didn’t have to touch me to enjoy himself and I said that wasn’t going to just sit there in the nude, while he…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Anyway, he apologized. Said that he liked that I refused him. That my ‘low sex drive’ proved I was virtuous and Good and that he’d always wait for me.”
Nicholas scoffed at that promise.
Marion kept going, embarrassed by how small her life had once been. “He said we would be married, one day. That he’d speak to my father about arranging a formal betrothal, when he returned. I believed him, because I always believed him. And… that’s it.” She shrugged, because it wasn’t a very interesting story.
Nicholas thought that over. “So, Hood wanted to jerkoff and come all over your breasts?” He translated. “And you shut him down? And then he claimed you had a low-sex drive?”
“Yes. If you want to put it bluntly.” She rolled her eyes. “Which of course you do.”
Nicholas grunted. His hands slipped under the band of her bra to cup her breasts beneath the cups. The feel of his hot skin against her bare flesh had Marion’s back arching in pleasure. Everywhere he touched he left a burning path. His right hand was especially turning her on. She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t thought much about it, one way or another. But the rough texture was enflaming her hyper-sensitive skin.
She pressed closer to him, demanding more. It was absolutely shameless behavior for a Maid. Marion didn’t care. With Robin, she’d always been second-guessing her actions and his responses. With Nicholas, Marion just wanted… more.
She wanted everything.
She reached behind her back to unclasp her bra.
Nicholas’ chest heaved, as she carelessly dropped the black lace to the floor. His eyes stayed riveted on the soft globes, displayed before him. “You didn’t show Hood, but you’re showing me?” He got out in confusion.
“Seems that way.” Marion felt powerful.
“Why?” It was a whisper.
“I trust you. Just this once.” That was one reason anyway.
He blinked, his eyes flashing up to her face. “Thank you, Marion.”
It was a cute thing to say and Marion smiled. “You’re welcome.”
His gaze traveled back down to her naked breasts. “You’ll really let me…?” He reached out, without finishing the question. His inhuman fingers carefully encircled her straining nipple and Marion didn’t stop him. Nicholas pinched her straining flesh and a shudder of lust went through him, as she jerked and whimpered for more. “All of you is so beautiful. Inside and out.”
Under his unwavering focus, she felt beautiful.
“I’ve never… With anyone who didn’t…” He trailed off with a shake of his head, watching his textured hands explore her smooth skin.
Marion recalled what Cragg had said the night before. “Gargoyles usually have to pay for sex?”
Nottingham mixed sex and money and power-dynamics in so many creepy ways. It was a wonder any of them managed to be halfway functional. She couldn’t wait to destroy the whole misogynistic, bigoted place.
He winced, muscles tensing. “Gargoyles always have to pay. It’s expected, no matter who we’re with.” There was an uneasy pause. “Most women would be insulted, if I didn’t offer some kind of compensation for this.”
Marion heard his internal conflict. “If you offer me money, I’ll be pissed, pudding-fish.”
His mouth twitched at the reassurance that she welcomed his touch and at the ridiculous endearment.
“Besides, you already own every inch of me, under the law. Why should you pay for what’s already yours?”
That reasoning appealed to him. “You said ‘yes,’ when I proposed.” He reminded her, like it was somehow in doubt.
