Droit De Seigneur (7 page)

Piers looked out through the steam at Amber, who sat nervously perched on the side of his bed, and wondered if she swam. Probably not.

“Come here, my flower.” He let his outstretched arm drip onto the cold floor.

She did so, if a bit reluctantly for his tastes.

Piers handed her a bar of soap and a cloth, then said, “Tell me, Amber, do you swim?” Her face lit up, and he was once again enchanted by this woman. “I do! My mum used to hate that I loved to do it, and I used to get into terrible trouble, but there was a beautiful lake by the house . . . “she stopped speaking suddenly, looking down at the contents of her hands.

Piers had already lain back and closed his eyes, in anticipation of a lovely bath. “What is it?” He opened on eye in time to see her brush a tear away and begin bathing him. But he caught her hand and repeated his question in a warning tone.

“I just – I just miss my – miss my family.”

“I’m sorry, Amber. I’ll see what I can do about arranging a trip for you to see them.

Would you like that?”

She brightened up so much that he wished thought of it sooner. “Yes, please, Sir!”

“They’re not far from where the new castle’s being built, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

She wasn’t washing him, in her enthusiasm about the trip, so he brought her hand to his chest in a hint, and watched her turn several shades of red, having forgotten the reality of what it was he was expecting her to do for him.

So she bathed him, but she assiduously avoided all of the strategic areas. His chest was sparkling clean, as was his neck and face. His hair was cleaner than it had been in years, and his back, even his feet, and his arms and hands. But most of the rest of him still reeked of the road, and he intended that she was going to give him a thorough bath.

So he grabbed the hand that had been making determined but useless circles on his belly and pushed it lower, where it would do him some good, in one way or another. The cloth slipped, as it was wont to do, and her hand came in contact with him for the first time.

Amber reacted like a scalded cat, but his reflexes were too finely honed to let her get away with retracting her hand that quickly. And, luckily, his ego wasn’t quite that delicate. He brought her fingers back down to him, murmuring all the way that touching him wasn’t going to hurt her, or him – not that he fancied she cared - until her fingers finally wrapped around the full tumescence of him, and he groaned, deep in the back of his throat.

That caught Amber’s attention like nothing could have. The connection between her hand on him, and his guttural, completely animalistic reaction clicked something in her head, and experimentally, she moved her hand up and down on him, just to see what would happen.

Chapter Five

Jesu, she was getting naturally too good at this already, he thought, entirely unable to stop himself from throwing his head back and growling at the way she held him firmly, but not too tightly. He wasn’t very fond of the way she was watching him, though, as if he was some sort of oddity she had to consider very carefully.

“Close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes?” she parroted back to him, surprised at the command.

“Yes. I cannot abide the way you’re looking at me. Close your eyes or I’ll blindfold you.”

“But, Sir – “

“But what?”

“I can’t bathe you – “

In answer, Piers leaned forward, reaching out to grab Amber by the back of the neck, hauling her forward, nearly into the bath with him, thoroughly dampening the front of her tunic as he brought that sweet mouth of hers down onto his. “Did I tell you you could stop?” Her fingers were dormant because she was too preoccupied by his kiss, but they started up again, slipping carefully up and down that long, thick shaft of his. Piers was almost immediately unmanned, if only by her untrained skill. She kept a wonderful rhythm and pressure without having been taught – he assumed.

His own free hand was far from idle, having sought and found her budding nipples where they were brought into relief by the worn, clinging fabric of her garments. One quick flick of the tip of his index finger on an impudent nub had her trying to crane away from him, but he wouldn’t allow it, pulling her closer, still, instead.

Long before he reached his own pleasure, he had her panting hotly for her own. He’d never had a wench who was quite so responsive just to breast play, and this was without having even bared them to his touch.

As he drew closer to his own end, he wished he hadn’t decided to do this in a bath, as he wish heartily for her mouth on his cock, but he knew he wouldn’t last to the bed. He let her go, so that she might concentrate on the matter at hand. “Faster, Amber. A little faster, and all the way up to the tip, then all the way down, every stroke.”

Her hand was barely large enough to fit round him, and finally, he didn’t know what stroke of genius touched her, but she brought her other hand to bear, wetting and soaping it well, and that was all he could stand. He flew off into the sun, putty, literally, in her small hands, a scream dragged from the deepest recesses of his throat, so much so that Archie knocked at the door to see that he was all right.

Knowing that the man wouldn’t take Amber’s word for it, he shouted angrily, “Yes, man, I’m fine.” It didn’t help that Archie was half deaf, but he’d been his father’s man, and Piers couldn’t see his way to getting rid of him.

Amber, for her part, sat there, amazed at what had just happened. She had never seen the like in her life, and it was written all over her face. Piers caught a glimpse of that look before he relaxed back into the rapidly cooling water of his bath.

“Don’t tell me that watching me spill my seed was quite that horrendous an event. From the look on your face I would thing you’d seen a ghost or a demon.” Incongruously, he added,

“Fetch my bath sheet.”

So that was what it meant when a man spilt his seed! “But that’s a sin!” She rose and brought him the towel, holding it for him as he got out of the tub.

Piers crossed to the door and called for Archie to have someone come collect the tub. As he dried himself, completely unselfconscious about his nakedness in front of her, apparently, he chuckled a bit. “I’ve always been surprised at that concept. It’s not as if there’s not more where that came from.”

Amber was trying desperately to look anywhere in the room but at him. She settled on staring out the window, and blotting the thing he’d just made her do out of her conscience as best she could. What was that thing he’d made her touch, and what had happened to him? It had seemed to be a lot like what he’d done to her recently, but she didn’t have equipment like that down there. She’d never seen the like, except on male animals.

“You can go now, Amber, but keep close. No venturing into the woods for hours at a time.”

She had the grace to blush that he even knew she did this.

Piers came up behind her. “Mrs. Tulane keeps me informed of everything you do – and everything you don’t do,” he advised.

“The King is honoring us with a visit, and we will be pressing every hand into hard service to make ready for his arrival.”

“Yes, Sir.” Amber curtsied, and walked towards the door to his room.

“Use the back stairway, my flower. No sense in ruining your reputation unnecessarily.” As if the arrangements for the King weren’t enough, with the entire castle and most of the nearby village scurrying around underfoot in preparation, recently everyone in his regiment, it seemed, was coming out of the woodwork to ask him for permission to marry Amber, with the distinct exception of Troy, who had never forgiven her for his mishap with the fountain. He, instead, spent his time filling Piers’ ear with vitriol against her, such ridiculous things as that she was a spy, a whore, and a witch, and anything else unpleasant he could concoct.

But everyone else sang her praises as if she were a gift from Heaven above; despite the fact that Piers knew that Troy did his best to spread his vicious gossip amongst them, too. But her good deeds outshone his patently false words. She’d healed this one’s boil and that one’s tooth and stitched the other’s certainly mortal wound, all with a soft, woman’s heart and a gentle, angel’s touch. If he had to hear one more randy buck singing her praises he was going to massacre his own regiment.

Finally, at the end of training, he told Bruce - who was one of the few who had not come to him, even though Piers knew that he, too, thought very highly of Amber - of the situation, and told him to distribute this information amongst the men: that if any of them wanted to marry Amber, they would have his blessing, but he would claim droit de seigneur. Luckily, Fitzwilliam was too shy to have asked, or that declaration would probably have gotten Piers handed his head on a platter.

From that day on, no one came to him asking for Amber’s hand. None of his men would ever consider having a woman to wife after he’d taken her virginity on what was supposed to have been their wedding night. It just couldn’t happen. Their honor meant too much to them.

Bruce had done as he was told, but then also came back to Piers, who was his commander but also an old friend, as soon as he got the chance. The two of them sat in the great hall, while servants scuttled about them, spreading fresh rushes on the floor along with small, tied bundles of sweet smelling dried herbs. “Any more of them jackanapes sniffing after Amber?”

“Not a one.”

“I thought not.”

Piers chuckled, taking a long pull on his wine. His friend seemed to want to say something, but was hesitant. “What is it?”

Bruce was uncomfortable with what he was about to say, but came out and said it anyway. “The girl. With what I just said to the men, you’ve condemned her to spinsterhood, not that she isn’t really already too old. But no one is ever going to offer for her now.” He hadn’t thought of that. Piers had allowed his jealousy to overtake him, and he had made a declaration to all the men in the area that she was his, without actually making her his, without giving her the benefit of his name in marriage or even taking her as his mistress, which would have given her at least some small measure of protection. As it was, there would be nowhere she’d be safe from the gossip, ridicule and speculation about the fact that he’d told the male population that he desired her, and that he intended to trump any man who wanted to give her his name in order to take her virginity for himself.

In essence, he’d labeled her his whore, however unintentionally.

Piers frowned deeply at his own blunder.

“The King’s been spotted an hour away!” a servant boy announced loudly, and the furor inside the hall tripled in pace.

He trusted his people to do what they needed to do. He had to find Amber. Piers sought out Mrs. Tulane, who was just coming out of Amber’s room.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know, Sir. She finished her work; she made all the bundles of herbs for the rushes – don’t they smell wonderful, now? But I’ve lost track of her. She’s probably gone wandering in the woods again, you know how she does, Sir.” Piers was thinking that she better hadn’t, since he’d expressly told her to stay close to the castle.

Mrs. Tulane was prattling on. “Those tunics you had made for the staff arrived just now, though, Sir. I was putting hers in her room. That was a lovely thing you did, Sir. Everyone’s clothes were looking right worn. Now we’ll all look fresh and bright for His Majesty!” If he’d thought he could have gotten away with just getting new clothes for Amber, he would have, but he’d thought that might have singled her out a bit too much. He wished he’d carried that idea through to his solution with the men. It had cost him a pretty penny to get one new set of clothes for every servant in the castle, but it would be worth it to put on a nice face for the King, he supposed, and it would definitely be worth it to see Amber in something new, that was of good quality.

He slipped into her room and grabbed the deep green garment that was on the bed and tucked it into his shirt, then headed out to see if the hunter could track the hunter.

He was gratified to find that he could. Her feet were smaller than those of the men usually found in the woods, so her tracks were generally easy to spot, although there were a lot of them, and it took a careful eye to discern which were the most recent, and he found he enjoyed the challenge. When he finally found her, though, he was not of a mind to disturb her, of a moment, but rather kept well back and watched, grateful for the cover and the chance to observe her at her most natural.

She swam like a water nymph, diving under and holding her breath for an impressively long time, diving for a white rock she threw further and further into the pristine lake. There was a small waterfall at one end, and he enjoyed the immeasurable pleasure of watching her swim out there and wash herself most thoroughly, wishing, as parts of him began to ache, that he was out there to assist.

When he was younger, he might well have thrown caution to the winds and joined her, but with the King only an hour away, he knew he couldn’t do that in good conscience. He knew how that would end, and he didn’t have time for it, especially considering that she obviously needed to be reminded that she had been prohibited from doing exactly this.

So, as she climbed, naked and glistening out of the water, he appeared out of the forest, walking onto the shore and preventing her from reaching for her clothes. Instead, he appropriated the scrap of cloth she’d brought to dry herself with and proceeded to do it himself, rubbing her briskly but gently all over until she was entirely dry, and even taking several swipes at her hair, but giving up since there was so much of it. But he did manage to get a lot of the water out of it, and seemed to enjoy running his hands and the cloth through it.

Amber had stood docilely throughout this process, which had surprised him somewhat.

That wasn’t like her, and he was a tad suspicious. But he didn’t waste any time once he thought he’d gotten her to the point where she’d be a little more comfortable standing out of the water, and he brought her a bit to his side, bent her over while holding her with one arm, and stepped on that long hair of hers with his foot, which trapped her right where he wanted her. She couldn’t get up without scalping herself, and her bare bottom was exactly where he wanted it. The wooden training sword he’d been using earlier in the day was the perfect implement to help refresh her memory about the rule he had set for her. It wasn’t as if he had made a thousand of them. She should have been able to obey that one.