The Bastard, page 9
“I can’t fault you for stamina,” she said, and started grinding against me again.
I laughed, but at the same time, I didn’t want her to have all the control. So I pushed against one of her legs with my hand until it was straight, and before Meghan could figure out what I was up to, rolled her over without disengaging.
She laughed at the move and nodded her approval as I set my own rhythm.
I paid close attention to the enchantress’ response, adjusting my tempo to what she seemed to like, and in a very short time, she closed her eyes once again, her hands wrapped around behind my shoulders.
Twice more, she shuddered against me, and then it was my turn. After so many weeks without enjoying the touch of a woman’s flesh, I was pleased to have lasted as long as I did. And as I collapsed on the bed beside her, I couldn’t help but grin.
As well as being pleased with my own stamina, I was very happy to note that Meghan had resisted all temptation to transform into her elderly self. What’s more, she hadn’t drained me of vitality, as the stories warned against. Nor had she made the bed come to life and sprout thick tendrils, holding me in place as she transformed into a demon on top of me.
She hadn’t done any of the foul things witches were supposed to enjoy.
When all was said and done, Meghan had acted as a normal woman, a fact for which I was eternally grateful.
Although, at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if she did try a few not-so-normal things…
It was later than I’d planned when I finally left Meghan’s cottage. Along with the memories and the sure knowledge that I had a friend living at the edge of the city, the enchantress gave me another token to hold onto as well.
It was wooden amulet much like the first, although this one hadn’t been worn down from years of use. It depicted a finely wrought image of the King’s Castle on one side, and on the other, the detail of a dragon in flight. It was beautiful work, and at first, I had tried to refuse it, but she reminded me I’d had to snap my old one in two.
“Is this enchanted, then?” I asked, studying the amulet more closely. “Like the last one?”
But the enchantress, dressed in nothing more than a sheet wrapped about her body, shook her head.
“Not like that, no. This one is a little more general.” She smiled once again, and I knew without any doubt that I would be dreaming of her for the rest of my life. Not just the dreams I already had, of her running through a polished hallway, and of presenting my last amulet. But a new one. One that encompassed all that she had done for me over the past few weeks.
“Think of this one as a lucky charm,” she continued. “Rub it for good luck, whenever you think you might need it, and it will help to ensure that events turn out as they should.”
I looked at her and could barely contain my gratitude. I’d told her of my habit of doing just that with the previous amulet, the one that had saved my life.
I didn’t know if that was why she was giving me this one, nor did it matter. It was an exceptional gesture, and I swore I would value this new amulet beyond all else, until I’d worn it all the way through.
There was only one more thing to say as I placed the leather cord around my neck.
“Thank you,” I said.
21
Camelot was known for its perpetually dreary weather, especially during the winter, but even now, halfway through spring, it seldom let up. Only in the height of summer did the clouds part for any real length of time, and then there was always a chance of drizzle, if not heavier rain.
The townsfolk had become used to it, accepting the mud and damp as a matter of course, wearing heavy coats in the winter, and lighter ones at all other times.
I’d lost my coat at about the same time I’d lost my boots and gained my miniature dragon. So I trudged through the mud with bare feet, trying not to think about the sticky, wet substance leaching between my toes. Sir George rode on my shoulder, sometimes curled into a ball and sometimes standing proud and watching all around.
If he drew the occasional glance or look of disapproval, I didn’t care.
Fortunately, the day wasn’t as bad as it might have been. The clouds above were as thick as usual but seemed content to keep their moisture to themselves.
It was cool in just my old tunic and breaches, but not so much that I struggled to keep warm.
Anyway, my main profession, if I had one, was that of a thief. And there were plenty of opportunities even in the outer part of the city. A careless afternoon drunk sprawled in the mud provided a replacement pair of boots and a mostly empty coin pouch as well. He was smaller than me, so he got to keep his coat, but another man about my size was careless with his, leaving it draped over a window ledge at a tavern.
Replacing my satchel wasn’t as simple. The leather-worked items, while fairly common, were treated with considerable respect. They were valuable, both for themselves and for whatever they carried. So I took some time plucking coins from poorly guarded pouches as I wandered, and by the time I reached the inner wall that separated the newer part of the city from the older section, I’d gathered enough coin to buy one.
So I did, at the first leather worker’s store I found, and even bartered well enough to come out with a decent amount of change.
In this, I think Sir George might have even helped. The leather worker couldn’t stop looking at my scaled friend. And for his part, Sir George seemed to take a dislike to the man, standing tall on my shoulder, his wings unfurled in a threat display as he hissed his disapproval.
Rat dragons weren’t dangerous to a full-grown man, but having a dragon in miniature glare at him like that seemed to at least distract the leather worker from the task at hand.
In the same way as I’d gathered my coin, I also collected a small number of daggers and various other blades that I hid about myself, as well as one of those long, knob-ended clubs that had become popular with Blackcoats and normal townsfolk alike.
There was just one thing missing. In my previous life, I had shied away from wearing a sword. I’d never really needed one in the past, but that was when I’d lived my life according to the plans of others. If I was to follow through as I intended, there was a good chance I would find myself at odds with someone.
And if that someone possessed a sword, as Rolf and his men did, then I would be a fool to go up against them with only a knife.
But acquiring a sword was a problem for later. As of right then, I had been walking for some considerable time and wanted a break. I found myself smiling at the last words Meghan had said to me.
“Don’t forget to look after yourself,” she’d said, as if she was my mother instead of an exotic witch. “Make sure you get enough food in you, and get plenty of rest.”
Despite my expectation, it turned out I wasn’t as strong as I thought. My legs were starting to wobble already.
So I found a tavern and ordered a hot meal before turning in for the night.
Over the next several days, I followed Meghan’s advice, making sure I ate well and got plenty of rest. At the same time, I quietly made contact with many of those I’d known from my previous life, while keeping my head down and away from the notice of the Blackcoats. For the most part, I visited different taverns, renewing my friendships with the keepers and the serving girls who worked there.
The first place I tried was the Twin Barrels alehouse. I knew the owner, a surly man who spoke in nothing but grunts and had grown deaf over the years. More importantly, I knew the serving girls, too.
I wandered in just before noon, looking for a buxom, curly haired woman named Rosylin. Spotting her, I approached her from behind and said lightly, “What’s a man got to do to get an ale around here?”
She spun around, looking put out, but then her eyes landed on my face, taking in my beard and then long hair. Then, she looked into my eyes, and in a moment, her irritation turned into delight. She greeted me with a broad and slightly saucy grin.
“Mordie!” she cried. “We thought you were dead!”
I’d known Rosylin almost as long as I’d known the Twin Barrels’ owner. She was always up for a tumble, and from my point of view, that came with free lodging—and she was more than willing to invite a friend along for the ride. In this way, I had gotten to know Maisie and Florence as well, the other two servers at the alehouse.
I grinned at her. “Not yet,” I said. “Although I wouldn’t mind if you kept that fact to yourself. Or I might be at risk of it coming true.”
Always one for gossip, Rosylin raised an eyebrow and sidled close, sensing a juicy story. But I shrugged it away.
“Just a misunderstanding with one of the Blackcoats,” I said. Then I patted her bottom in a proprietary way and said, “Speaking of which, you wouldn’t happen to know what that bastard Rolf is up to these days, would you? Him and his thugs, Bryce and Durstan?”
At the names of the three Blackcoats, Rosylin’s smile faded. “If it’s them three you’ve had your misunderstanding with, I’d do what I can to sort it out pretty quick. Either that or lie low until it’s forgotten about. Those are among the worst of the lot.”
“I know it,” I said to her. “Which is why I’m looking to find out what they’re up to.”
Rosylin’s smile returned, and she pinched my cheek with just as much ownership as when I’d patted her behind. “I’ll keep an eye and ear open for you,” she said. Then her smile grew broader. “Now, you’re going to sit yourself down and have an ale or two, and when things quiet themselves down, how about you and me pop upstairs for a bit?”
So I sat in the tavern, watching the ebb and flow of customers and enjoying my ale. Everything felt more vibrant than it had before my death, and I took notice of things in a different way.
For instance, the creak of the dusty floorboards in front of the bar, the thin man who looked like a scribe sitting alone in his own corner, watching the customers with a keen eye, much like I was doing. The snippets of conversation that you heard when no one thought you were listening. I didn’t hear anything too important just then, but I’d never been much of an eavesdropper. Perhaps I should have been. Rosylin seemed to have summed up Rolf’s character in a short sentence, and she’d probably learned it from listening to gossipers all day long. In addition to soliciting her help, I realized I had been missing an opportunity in this area and vowed to do better. To keep my ear to the ground, so to speak.
I also noticed the way Rosylin, Maise, and Florence interacted with other customers. I wasn’t a jealous guy, never had been, but it made me a little bit happy to see that Rosylin didn’t allow other men to pat her bottom or flirt with her too long before shutting them down. She’d never been standoffish like that with me. It could have been because I was there watching now and waiting for her to find a few moments, but maybe not. If other customers were used to such liberties, it would have pissed them off to be swatted away today.
In any case, I wasn’t going to ask about other men in Rosylin’s life because I didn’t want to know the answer. Again, never been a jealous man, but I didn’t go looking for opportunities to be, either.
At some point, Sir George disappeared from his perch on my shoulder, and I assumed he was going hunting.
After about an hour, when only a handful of customers sat chatting together at a far table, she walked over to my table and smiled affectionately. “This is about as empty as it’s going to get. I’m ready to do something other than pour ale… perhaps I can serve you in another way, Mordie?”
She placed her hands on the table and leaned over me, giving me a full view of her breasts nearly spilling out of her dress. I smiled, nodded, and abandoned the rest of my ale to walk toward the stairway.
Maise and Florence both followed us with their eyes, and I as put my hand on the doorway and gestured for Rosylin to ascend first, Maise caught my eye and winked. I winked back and then followed Rosylin upstairs.
The serving wench had always been eager, but as soon as we made our way to the third floor of the inn portion of the building, she grabbed my hand and pulled me against a closed door.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she said with a wicked smile. “I was afraid I’d never get to do this again.”
And then she stood on her tiptoes and crushed her mouth to mine. I grabbed her bottom and pulled her into me, returning the kiss.
I pulled back and grinned. “Me too, Rosylin. Me too.”
Just then, the door behind us opened, and we hurried to step out of the way. A grizzly looking man dressed only in his tunic stumbled out of the room beyond. He blinked a few times, saw us gripped in each other’s embrace, and then turned around, grumbling something about ‘peace’ and ‘youngsters.’
His door slammed shut, rattling the walls.
Rosylin and I laughed quietly.
“Never you mind old Wallace,” Rosylin said. “He’s as cranky as a blacksmith forced to take a bath on Sunday. Speaking of which, I better tell Maise to bring him some fresh water. He works evenings and sleeps late in the day.”
She pulled me toward another room and opened the door. Leaving me there, she said, “Be back in a wink,” and left.
I closed the door behind her and shed my clothing, pleased that my body was no longer riddled with the bruises of my beating and attempted hanging.
The room held a large enough bed, with a wash basin and a place to hang a coat. I didn’t bother. Instead, I dropped my clothes to the floor and tossed myself on the mattress. I’d used this room before, and it was my favorite in the inn because of the bed, which felt softer than the others.
Before I’d got settled, Rosylin returned, and she wasn’t alone. Maise stood behind her, grinning.
I grinned back. The afternoon was shaping up to be more fun than I’d expected.
22
The girls quickly came in and closed the door.
“You look different, Mordie,” Maise said. “You’re thinner. And a beard! What happened to you?”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “Nothing a little bit of Maise can’t fix. Will you still kiss me with a beard?”
She grinned wickedly. “I like it.” Then she leaned down over me, falling onto the bed, dress and all, and planted a deep, sensuous kiss on my lips.
Behind her, Rosylin laughed, and when I looked at her, saw that she’d shed her clothing already. Her body was a tad softer than Meghan’s, a bit curvier, but the curves were still in all the right places. Her long brown hair tumbled down over her shoulders like silk, and I took a good look at her as Maise began to nuzzle my neck.
Still laughing, Rosylin pushed Maise aside and straddled my hips, pushing me back onto the pillow and rubbing herself against me. “What do you want, Mordie?” she asked, trailing her finger down my chest. I watched as her finger went lower, and lower, and finally stopped between where our bodies met.
I glanced at Maise, who had rolled to the side and was slowly pulling her dress off her shoulders. I nodded to her. “Help her out of her clothes.”
Rosylin smiled again and reached over to tug Maise’s dress down over her breasts. Maise’s were smaller than Rosylin’s, but no less enticing because they were perfectly formed and perky. I moved Maise’s dark blond hair out of the way and leaned over to take one of those in my mouth. Her hand went to my hair, and she signed contentedly as I teased her nipple with my tongue.
Rosylin continued helping Maise out of her clothing, with me impeding somewhat by trying to touch as much of both women as I could.
When they were both naked, Maise got closer and stood on her knees so that both her breasts were in my face. I kissed in between them and then moved on to her right breast, which I hadn’t yet been able to reach with my tongue.
But Rosylin grabbed my hair and pulled me toward her for a deep kiss instead. When she pulled away, her eyelids were hooded with desire. “What else do you want?” she asked huskily.
I ran my hand up and down her smooth thigh, all the way to the sparse curls at her apex. Then I put my other arm around Maise’s waist and pulled her in close. “Surprise me,” I whispered.
Rosylin grinned and tilted her head to the side. “Hm…” she bit her lip and glanced at Maise. “Well, I’ve never done this before…” she leaned over and kissed Maise on the mouth.
Maise looked a bit surprised at first, and then she kissed Rosylin back, putting her hand on her face. It was a surprise for me, too. As they deepened the kiss and began tonguing each other, I continued to touch them, running my hands down their waists, into their hair. And my cock became even harder, if that was possible. Rosylin, who was still straddling me, must have noticed because she smiled and began touching Maise’s breasts.
I watched until I couldn’t stand just being an observer. Lifting Rosylin’s leg, I slid down on my back until she was now sitting over my face.
And I tasted her, running my tongue over her swollen lips while I kept my eyes open, watching the girls kiss and their breasts occasionally brushing against each other. Rosylin rolled her hips over my face, and I turned my attention to her. She was already wet, and my ministrations only added to her arousal.
Diving my tongue inside her, I rolled it around as she moaned, and then I drew it out to kiss all the way up to her most sensitive spot. One of her hands came down to wrap itself in my hair and hold me there. That’s what she wanted, and so I obliged, teasing the sensitive bud there much like I had teased Maise’s nipples.
After a few moments, I felt the girls moving more vigorously above me, and I glanced up to see that Rosylin had her fingers between Maise’s legs and was pleasuring her there.
I’d had two women before, but mostly they had paid more attention to me than to each other. This was new, but I loved it and wanted to experiment more. It was slightly scandalous, which only made it more fun, and it went along with Rule Number One—make your own damn rules.
As I pleasured Rosylin with my tongue, she moaned more frequently, her thighs shaking slightly with her impending climax.
