A Love for All Time (8 page)

He loosened his grip upon her just slightly, and murmured against her lips, “Don’t be frightened, sweetheart,” and reaching up he removed his blindfold to see the girl. He didn’t recognize her at all, and as his green eyes met her gray ones she blushed scarlet, and with a little cry fled to the queen’s side. The other girls were now giggling, and he asked one of them, “Who was that?”

“Mistress St. Michael, the queen’s latest ward. The queen made her a maid of honor when she dismissed Althea Tailleboys, and sent her home.”

He looked to the girl who now sat on a stool by the queen’s chair, her slender fingers now busily, almost too busily, untangling the rainbow-colored threads from the queen’s embroidery basket. He couldn’t ever remember having seen her before, but then there was nothing about her to distinguish her. She had never been kissed before, of that he was certain. Yet he could see she was not the very young girl that most of the queen’s maids were. How did it happen that a girl of her age hadn’t been kissed before? Her lips had been incredibly sweet. It was her innocence, he supposed, though he thought her rather old to be so innocent. Then with a shrug he replaced the blindfold, and began anew to play Blind Man’s Bluff amid the giggling girls of the queen’s inner circle.

He didn’t think about Mistress St. Michael until later, and then only briefly as Lady Glytha Holden kissed him with such a passionate expertise he was almost left breathless. How different, he thought, as he loosened his mistress’ laces so he might fondle her breasts, how very different Glytha’s kisses are from the little wench I kissed earlier.

Glytha stirred in his arms. “What are you thinking of?” she demanded of him.

“I’m thinking that you have the most beautiful tits,” he returned, bending to kiss each nipple of the firm breasts she presented him. She really was a lovely woman; small-boned, and not too tall, with fine white skin, and gold hair that held just a hint of red; eyes as blue as a lake. She had a pious Puritan husband who having gotten a son and heir as well as twin daughters upon her preferred being on his knees in prayer to being on his wife’s body in passion. Though her daughters were of marriageable age and Glytha herself was past thirty, she was still filled with lustful fires. Conn was not the first of her lovers, nor would he be the last. Even now they were becoming bored with each other, and Conn had only recently noticed what delicious and ripe miniatures of their mother Grace and Faith Holden were.

“Yer a liar,” Glytha said petulantly. “Yer thinking of another woman, aren’t ye?”

“What woman?” he countered.

Glytha sniffed. “I don’t know what woman, but not me, Conn. Every bitch at court is sniffing at yer tail. How can I hope to keep yer interest when all the others buzz about ye like bees about a particularly sweet flower?”

It was the perfect opening, and he took it. “Are ye saying that yer leaving me, Glytha?”

“I think it’s best, Conn.”

They made love that night, and in the morning parted amicably. Glytha Holden, however, would have been furious to learn that her twin daughters, learning quickly that their mother had discarded yet another lover, began to stalk the handsome Irishman. The twins looked like angels, but they had lost their virtue at thirteen to cousins who were delighted to discover how lusty and eager for passionate play Mistress Grace and Mistress Faith were.

Reared in the country because their father feared their contamination by the wicked world the twins and their brother had been left to the haphazard care of servants while their parents followed the court. Lord Edwin Holden, Baron Marston, was a financial wizard whose expertise was necessary to Elizabeth Tudor. When his son, Edward, had been seven, and the twins five, the boy had been fostered out to another noble family to begin his education. His sisters, however, had remained home in the Kent countryside until one day two years ago their mother had realized that unless they came to court it would be hard to find them suitable husbands as there were no young men of ranking families near their Kent manor.

Grace and Faith had taken to court easily. They had been trained all their lives for this, and they joined in with little difficulty or discomfort. The young gentlemen of the court found them particularly adept at naughty games although clever, they did not give a great deal lest they spoil their chances of a good match. Conn O’Malley, however, was another matter. He was not a man that their father would consider for either of them being Irish and Catholic to boot. The ladies loved to talk about him, but they had never heard it said that Conn talked about his conquests. They knew that they might have their little fling with him, and no one the wiser. It had been two years since they had indulged in carnal play with their cousins. Both twins were adept at giving each other pleasure, but it was not, they both agreed, like having a man inside you. They decided that the direct approach was best, and Conn arriving home after being on duty for three days, in addition to his duties as Lord of Misrule, found two naked nymphs in his bed.

“Jesu!” he swore softly, his green eyes glittering with anticipation, his weariness suddenly evaporating. “Cluny, go to bed!”

The manservant cackled, and without a word disappeared from the bedchamber, closing the door to the room firmly behind him as he went.

Conn felt a grin splitting his face. “Mistress Grace and Mistress Faith,” he said. “How nice of ye both to come and visit. I wonder, however, if yer mama and yer papa know of yer whereabouts.”

The twins giggled, and then Grace said, “We’re neither of us virgins, and since we’ve come to court we haven’t fucked.”

“We don’t dare for fear papa will find out if we do, and then we’ll not be given fine husbands,” chimed in Faith. “Ye won’t tell on us, will ye?”

“Nay, sweeting,” said Conn pulling off his clothes so he might join them in the bed. “I’m rather flattered that ye think me man enough to satisfy ye both.”

“Oh, we know how to keep a man’s cock good and stiff,” said Grace matter-of-factly. “Our cousins taught us, and we practiced enough on them before we came to court. There’ll be enough of ye for both of us.”

He was somewhat nonplussed by her, but then he sandwiched himself between the two girls, and pulling Faith to him he kissed her hungrily, his tongue plunging into her mouth while Grace took him into a warm mouth, and tugging upon his manhood sent darts of purest desire shooting into it. His hands found themselves filled with soft, warm flesh, but Faith was pulling away from him to rub her pink-tipped breasts over his face. He groaned and captured a nipple to suck upon. Then Grace was mounting him, and plunging down to encase him within her hot sheath while Faith straddled his head offering him her hidden flesh to feast upon.

The twins had not lied when they claimed proficiency in the arts of love. Each time he believed himself close to release they seemed to sense it, and they would pull back, switching places to begin anew with him until he thought that he was going to burst so fierce was his passion. He realized that he was not in control of the situation, and he found it an uncomfortable position to be in for it was Grace and Faith who were manipulating his condition. Only when they deemed it permissible was he allowed release.

Once roused they were wild women finding nothing too strange, or daring to do. Conn was, at first, enchanted with his good fortune, but then as the night wore on he began to realize they would kill him with their loving if he did not regain a mastery of their circumstances. He began by pushing Grace away from him as she sought to mount him once again.

“No! I’ll do my own fucking, sweeting,” he told her, and when she protested he sat up, and pulling her across his lap spanked her across her plump bottom, and pushed her from the bed onto the floor. Surprised Grace began to weep, but Conn paid little attention to her instead yanking the more compliant Faith beneath him, he mounted her, and thrusting himself into her, moved furiously upon her until he was at last able to spill his seed in a glorious wild burst that left him exhausted and drained. “Get me some wine, Grace,” he commanded, and she rushed to do his bidding. Within minutes he had been revived, and he gave to Grace that which he had given her twin sister. Then firmly sending both girls home, he fell asleep.

In the morning Conn vowed that never again would he entertain Mistress Grace and Mistress Faith Holden. He felt as if he had been battered, and his lean and long body was covered with bite and scratch marks. After he had bathed in a hot tub that Cluny prepared he stood nude before the pier glass examining himself with shock. He had not felt them marking him. His handsome face was unmarked, and as he stared into the glass his green eyes stared back from beneath heavy black brows.
The Handsomest Man at Court,
he thought, looking at himself closely as if he expected to find something different or unusual. He knew that he was a handsome man for he was neither a fool, nor coy. He was clean-shaven, the better to show off his chiseled, somewhat squared jaw with its dimple. He had a long, straight nose in perfect proportion with his size for he stood six feet four inches tall in his stocking feet. His cheekbones were high, and sculpted giving him a look of vulnerability that was borne out in the high forehead, and his mouth which was almost too delicate for such a big man, being thin-lipped rather than wide. He was very fair-skinned for a man which only made his dark hair seem all the darker, particularly as one errant lock of hair persisted in tumbling over his brow, giving him a boyish look he deplored. Long legs, long torso, broad chest and shoulders that needed no padding—he looked magnificent in his clothing. His brother-in-law Adam de Marisco had said when he had first seen Conn in decent clothing, “By God, the women will be throwing themselves at his feet,” a statement quickly borne out for truth. He had also said that they would end up in altercations with many of the gentlemen at court due to Conn’s handsomeness.

Conn, however, had managed to avoid fighting with possibly outraged husbands and fathers by his utmost discretion in matters of the heart. He was wise enough to realize that brawling, particularly public brawling, would lose him royal favor, and he knew that gold could get him only just so far. He owed his position to Elizabeth Tudor, but that which Bess gave so freely she could take away as easily. He had come to England to find his fortune as had many Irishmen before him. As the youngest son in his family there was nothing for him in Ireland, particularly an Ireland ruled by England. He knew his fate was here, and he had no intention of endangering his future. Consequently the Holden twins would have to be forgotten. Instinctively he knew that passionate pair held an element of danger for him, particularly since he had only recently courted their mother. He would seek a less flamboyant arrangement for the court was full of lovely and willing ladies.

Ladies like Signora Eudora Maria di Carlo, the wife of the ambassador from San Lorenzo. A most toothsome wench who had spent the weeks since her recent arrival in England staring at him with her marvelously expressive amber eyes, and brushing against him as they passed. The ambassador’s wife was tiny and plump, and he doubted not, a delicious armful. The thought of the chase ahead sent a tingle of anticipation down his spine. Last night had given him a distaste for bold and forward women. He far preferred sweet surrender and melting charms to the demands of Baron Marston’s daughters. He intended avoiding them if at all possible, but then perhaps it would not be possible, and he certainly could not cause a scandal. It was a difficult situation, but he had cleverly avoided worse in his lifetime.

“
T
here is no help for it now,” said Lord Burghley to the queen. “The scandal has been caused, and by not acting to punish Master O’Malley ye make it appear as if ye condone his actions. Yer apt to be tarred with the same brush that tars him. Remember the Dudley scandal. Ye cannot afford it, madame.”

The queen sighed deeply. “I know yer right, my dear friend. Ye have always had only my interests at heart, but I cannot help but be saddened. I like Master O’Malley!”

“I know that, madame, and I would tell ye that I like him also. There is really no malice in him at all, and the fact that he has been caught in this situation is unfortunate for there are those here at court who do worse daily, but are never found out. Conn O’Malley is a good-hearted young man, but he has not learned, forgive my bluntness, madame, to keep his cock confined to his codpiece, and it is that sin that has brought us to this moment. The ambassador from San Lorenzo is outraged as he has every right to be. There is no doubt he has been insulted, which means his tiny, but valuable to England, country has been insulted. We cannot have him return to his master, madame, and break off relations with us.”

“What am I to do then?” Elizabeth Tudor fretted. “I have had Conn confined to the Tower, but I cannot keep him there indefinitely simply because he was caught kissing the ambassador’s wife in a hidden corner.”