Hellion (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 7) (12 page)

"Bring her to supper and let us decide
if she is suitable."

He laughed, hoarse. Isobel was
administering to his cock with a steady, determined suction, but he
held back, stubborn, saving his semen for later.

"I will come to supper, but
alone."

He'd have to alter his plans and go
earlier to Helene's manor. And she'd better be ready for him,
because he was going to touch her thoroughly. Outside and in. After
the preparation he was getting now from the wives, he would be
rampant as that small lion tattooed on his groin.

"Is your milkmaid pretty?" Princesa
asked.

"Hmm."

"And she is unwed."

"Hmm."

"It is strange for you to keep a woman
to yourself, Salvador," said Isobel, sitting up.

"Hmm."

The women laughed to one another that
he was being "tight-lipped" on the subject and they set about
teasing him further with their lips and fingers and tongues, trying
to worm more details out of him about his mysterious milkmaid.
Eventually, however, they grew frustrated for Sal was a master of
willpower. He could put himself into a higher plane of thought and
consciousness to resist those urges that his brothers never could—
or never wanted to. The only woman Sal had not been able to resist
in the end was that damnable widow in the next manor. When she
boldly strode up to him and made him drop his mallet in the grass
he was lost.

Truth was, he didn't want to spend
with his brothers wives that day. There was only one pussy he
wanted at that moment.

Let these women try with all their
might, but he would save it for Helene. For his Hellion, as he'd
called her. Since she slyly invaded more and more of his thoughts,
and other organs— all while pretending that she didn't really want
to— the name seemed ever more appropriate.

He sat up so abruptly that the three
wives all rolled off him and onto the fur blanket with startled
cries and yelps.

Oh, yes, he thought, Helene de Leon
had better be ready for him today because he'd have a great deal of
energy built up.

But although he did not ejaculate
himself, Sal did the polite thing and saw to it that all three of
the visiting wives each enjoyed a hearty climax before he saw them
off again.

"By the way," said Princesa as she
mounted her horse, "we have news for you, husband dear. I almost
forgot! Your father heard from the king that the troublesome widow
on your border is about to be married again. That should keep her
from bothering you, once she has a husband to keep her busy once
more."

He grabbed the horse's bridle.
"Married again? The widow Calledaux?"

"Of course. What other widow causes
you such consternation as that old lady?"

Waving and shouting that he was not to
be late for supper, the three wives rode out of his gate with their
now empty baskets.

Sal stared at the dust cloud they left
in their wake.

Helene was to marry again, but she had
not informed him of this.

Of course, she was young and fertile
so she must marry again whatever her feelings about it.

Why should that news take
him by surprise? And was it
surprise
he felt?

* * * *

"My lady, d'Anzeray has sent you
another gift," cried Elyce, hurrying into the stables where Helene
stood talking with the grooms.

What was it this time, she wondered,
her heart skipping a few thumps. He did like surprising her, it
seemed.

She gave her favorite mare a quick rub
on the nose and then followed Elyce out into the yard, where she
found a spectacularly large and very well-fed boar grunting and
snouting around in the dirt. Wiping her hands on her gown, she
walked up to the bent, elderly old man who had come with the pig.
"This is a very generous present, from my neighbor," she muttered,
feeling every eye upon her in the yard. "I'm not sure I can afford
to keep such a—"

"It is yours on loan, my lady," the
old fellow croaked. "Just until he does his business for yon sow."
He pointed with his stick toward her pigsty. "This boar is a
champion breeder and will give you a good litter. As you discussed
with my master last evening."

"I see." Oh, yes, she saw alright. The
symbolism of this gift was not lost on her. But rather than be
appalled, as she should be, Helene wanted to laugh. "Very well,
since it is only a loan."

The Boar-walker bowed to her and said
he would stay until the beast had performed its service and then he
would take it back again to d'Anzeray's castellany. Helene asked
that the man be taken inside and given refreshment while he waited,
for she did not like to think of the poor old fellow having to walk
the distance back and forth on such a warm day with no sustenance
between.

He seemed very grateful for the offer
and hobbled inside with Elyce leading the way. Helene went back to
her work, slightly puzzled that no other message had come with the
boar. Perhaps he would send Harold later, telling her where he
wanted to meet this time.

Soon the sun was at its highest peak
and everyone was sluggish, trying to find spots in the shade while
they took a break from the day's work. Helene went into the
cookhouse and found all the usual activity happening at a slower
than usual pace due to the muggy heat.

"Where is the old boar-walker?" she
asked, looking around. "I thought he would be here
resting."

They all looked at her blankly, and
Elyce admitted she'd been too distracted by her chores to notice
where the man went. She would, no doubt, have paid more attention
if he was young and handsome, thought Helene with a
sigh.

"I'm sure he has found somewhere cool
to take a nap," Elyce assured her, yawning as she fanned herself
with a corner of her apron. "I can't remember a day in June ever
being so warm. But 'tis good for the haymaking."

The conversation then turned to the
weather and harvest. Feeling wilted herself and longing to lie down
for a while, somewhere quiet and cool, Helene slipped away to her
private chamber. But when she opened her chamber door a few minutes
later, all hopes of staying cool were instantly lost.

For there was the boar-walker,
stretched out on her bed, waiting for her, his tunic discarded.
Along with that long, false grey beard.

Now she knew why there had been no
message sent with the boar, for Salvador d'Anzeray had come himself
to tell her what he wanted in exchange.

Chapter
Eleven

"You took your time finding me," he
said, eyeing her from his lounging pose.

His words seemed heavy with meaning.
Yes, she had taken her time gathering the courage to walk up to him
with her suggestion. She wished she had done so sooner. And she
also wished, suddenly, that she was not sweaty and wearing a
stained gown. For possibly the first time in her adult life she
yearned to be one of those graceful, elegant ladies, she previously
only scorned for having nothing useful to do with their
time.

Helene approached the bed warily. "We
cannot be caught here together. You take a great risk."

"And you haven't done the same these
past few nights, Hellion?" He smiled slowly, lazily, his head
resting on his arms and turned to face her. "It was my turn to come
to you."

But despite his languid smile there
was a sharpness in his gaze, as if he held back some anger. Perhaps
he was still smarting from the two slaps she gave him last
night.

"What do you want from me in exchange
for the services of your boar?" she asked, as if she didn't already
know.

Salvador sat up and swung his feet
over the edge of her bed. "While my prize boar services your sow,
I'll service you." That was confirmed then. As if she might still
be in some doubt, he added a terse, "I want to fuck you. As many
times as I can today."

"Thank you for being
so...clear."

He smirked. "I didn't want to take a
chance on you misunderstanding. Thinking you might get away with a
little bit of touching again. This time I'm going in. I'm fucking
you. And spilling inside you." His point made, he stood and began
stripping off his chausses. "Bolt your door. We don't want to be
disturbed. I don't want your guards running if I make you
scream."

Helene briefly thought of leaving,
calling for help to have this handsome sinner removed from her
chamber. That's what she should do if she was a real lady, delicate
and chaste.

Lucky for him she was neither. Just as
she hid her hair under a plain wimple, she had hidden her true
desires under a pious mask.

With him, there was no need to
hide.

So she bolted the door and began to
remove her gown.

* * * *

She complied rather easily, he
thought. Remembering what Princesa had told him about another
husband coming there for Helene, he felt his anger burst anew.
Damnable woman wouldn't tell him that, would she? Now she planned
to get what she could from him, before this other man came. To use
him like a stud horse. Well, then he'd treat her the same
way.

Get his fill of her while he
could.

Hopefully he would get this strange
need out of his blood, because he feared it would weaken him,
soften his edges. She was like the sun melting the block of ice in
which he kept his feelings.

He picked up the walking cane that had
aided him in his disguise and tapped it smartly against the palm of
his hand. "First, I must punish you, Lady de Leon."

Her eyes widened, flooding with those
warm waves of lavender. Sal breathed in her scent deeply, his
nostrils flaring.

"Bend over. I will give you a sore
arse to remember me by later."

"I don't—"

"Pay attention, wench. Obey me, or
I'll make it worse."

She looked at him as if she might
flee, but then, slowly she walked to the bed. "Punish me for
what?"

"Slapping my face. Forbidding me to
touch you." He paused. "Lying to me."

She quirked an eyebrow.

"You have lied to me, have you not?"
he demanded, trying to contain his temper and keep his voice low.
Her manor seemed to be napping lightly around them in the drowsy
afternoon heat and he didn't want to disturb their shallow
sleep.

"No," she said, frowning
quizzically."What would I lie to you about? I have no reason to do
so."

"No? You've had other men since your
husband died, but you lied to me."

She folded her arms. "Indeed I have
not. You're looking for some reason to be angry with me, but you
bark up the wrong tree, mutt. I told you the truth. There have been
no other men."

"Mutt? That is what you think of me,
eh?"

"It's what you are." She walked up to
him until there was but an inch betwixt them. She tipped her head
back. "A bastard mutt, part Spaniard, part Norman. Am I
wrong?"

"No," he snapped. "I'm no pedigree
like your last husband. But a mixed breed, you'll find, is a vast
deal stronger."

"Is that so?"

"Tougher."

"Really?" She reached up and ran a
fingertip down the side of his smoothly shaved cheek, mimicking the
way he had touched her last night. "You'll have to prove that to
me, won't you?"

He didn't waste another moment, but
picked her up by the waist and tossed her to the bed. Gasping, half
laughing, she scrambled to get away but he was down on her, pinning
her there on her front. Already he was hard, his cock pushing
between the cheeks of her arse, but as he'd said to her, she needed
punishing first. He wanted her arse glowing before he plowed
it.

"Stay down, wench," he hissed into her
hair, tasting the sweet lilacs on his tongue. "A few stripes of the
cane will make you repent for teasing and tormenting me all these
months."

She chuckled over her shoulder.
"That's your excuse now, is it? That I willfully tormented you? If
you truly want a reason to spank me, I can give you a better one
than that."

But he didn't care to hear another
insult from her pert lips and he didn't need another reason. She
had deliberately tempted him; he was sure of it. Somehow she'd
bewitched him all these months, driven him slowly to madness until
he couldn't keep his thoughts, or his hands, off her.

He backed away from the bed and stared
down at her lush bottom. Either he had a vivid imagination, or
she'd just wriggled it at him impatiently.

Sal licked his lips, anticipation
roaring through him, setting fire to his body. His cock was so hard
it hurt. "Open your legs. Wider. I want to see your pussy while I
deliver your punishment. Arch your back. Lift your arse
higher."

He swung his cane and it landed with a
crack across the cheeks of her bottom. She bounced slightly,
catching her breath. He repeated the action and she cried out. A
lovely red line already glowed across her buttocks and he knew it
must sting. With his free hand he reached between her legs and felt
the moisture gathering in the pink folds of her cunt.