One Knight's Bargain (3 page)

She heard Eustache before she saw him. As she spun,
she covered her bosom, her gaze moving to his immediately. The smirk he wore
aggravated her, as he’d found her secret before she’d had a chance to repay a
small amount of his crimes. After all her hard work with that damned pot and
here he was.

“Now don’t you look lovely there?” He began to take
off his
surcoat
and gloves as her eyes grew large. He
certainly didn’t think he was going to get into the water with her, did he?
Eustache started to work his mail over his head but struggled. “Come help me,
wench.”

Wench? How did he expect her to want to help him with
language like that? She had half a mind to push him into the water with his
mail on and hope he drowned. Too bad the pools weren’t that deep and he was a
bully enough of a man to probably get out on his own. She couldn’t imagine what
he’d do to her if he didn’t die from the action. A shiver ran through her at
the thought.

“I said come help me.”

“Perhaps if you ask politely I’ll consider helping
you.”

She heard a few grunts and groans, and in a flash the
mail was off and a heap on the floor. “If you’re looking for polite from me,
you obviously haven’t been watching me the last couple of hours.”

His tunic and boots soon met the mail on the floor. He
stood in just his leggings and shirt, his hands on the edge of the shirt
preparing to raise it. She’d never seen a male nude, well, not unless you
counted her little brothers when they’d been small and she’d helped bathe them.
From that knowledge, as well as the animals they’d once had, she wasn’t
completely ignorant of what was hidden behind his clothing, but she still
wasn’t prepared to be shown his nudity, either. She cast her face away as he
continued to disrobe, heat suffusing her face.

“Oh,
lawd
be. I had thought
perhaps I had a brave lady when I had caught you in chainmail. Please tell me I
don’t have a blushing maid on my hands, who will faint at the sight of an
arse
cheek.”

Her gaze whipped to his at his comment, anger filling
her. “I’m not the fainting sort.” She caught sight of his erect manhood as she
finished her comment and immediately reconsidered what she said. He was very
large and very ready, she believed. A flush of heat filled her face as she
turned away once more.

Eustache lowered himself into the water, if the
splashing she heard was correct. She immediately began to pull herself from the
water, as best she could while covering her own nudity at the same time. “Woman,
if you leave this spring, you will be very sorry.”

Her stare darted to his again. Fortunately, this time
he was covered up to his chest with the steaming water. His hair was wet and
his face cleaner, so he’d apparently dipped in completely as he’d entered. He
rested against the rocky ledge, his arms extended out on both sides of him.
With his hair less of a tangled mess and some of the road soot washed from his
face, she was surprised to see he was a bit more handsome than she’d realized.
Surprised and upset. She shouldn’t find him handsome at all. “This is
delightful. No wonder you have no tub, there’s no point in one, hmm?”

His eyes closed as he spoke, and she stuck out her
tongue at him. His eyes popped open, and he caught the very end of it. Of course
she would be caught in the juvenile act, but she’d lost her small chance at
some retribution.
 

“Girl, you must learn some respect for your soon-to-be
husband.”

“You are to be my husband because you paid for the
privilege, not because of any match made for us. I owe you nothing.”

Eustache was on her before she had the chance to move.
One of his hands was clenched in her hair, pulling her face back so he could
peer down at her, the other an iron band around her body. She could feel the
hefty weight of his cock against her stomach like a little beating heart,
beating in time to the fiery blood flowing through it.

He growled as he stared at her, his tight hold on her
hair hurting. “Regardless of how I came to have your hand in marriage, the
point is it’s mine. You will be my wife and the mother of my children.” He
released the hold on her hair, the hand spearing between her thighs and
slipping through her folds. She squealed at the intimate touch.

“Are you whole?”

She winced at the question, not wanting to answer such
an intimate detail about herself. When she didn’t answer, he shook her harshly.
“I asked if you were whole.”

“I … am.”

A smile formed over his full lips. His fingers
shifted, moving to the opening of her channel. She stiffened at the miniscule
penetration, but he paused, not going past a fraction of an inch. “So this will
be all
mine
.”

She swallowed, fear swirling in her chest. And there
was something else mixing with it as well. A warming filled between her thighs,
at the apex. Yearning filled her like nothing she’d felt before. Sybille didn’t
want to admit it, but she wanted his fingers to press forward.

She disgusted herself. Eustache wasn’t a man she’d
chosen, but a brute. He was barely able to be considered gentry, a half step
above the muddied masses. He was base, an animal. He had bought her like a
cheap piece of meat, ready to bring her down to his level.

And she was so at his level.
If he
but put one finger within her.

“Eustache—”

 
An evil glint
came to his eye as soon as the words erupted unbidden from her lips.
Embarrassment flooded her as soon as they did, caught in her own lust.

“I believe the lady is enjoying this rough treatment.”
His lips formed a thicker smile, and she felt even more disgusted with herself
for allowing it.

Eustache lowered his head, his warm breath fanning
over his face. She noted it now smelled of mint. He must have stopped by the
small herb garden and stolen a sprig or two to chew upon. Had he done that for
her? The thought was dizzying as it showed a tiny chink in his armor, if she
was right.

Even so, she couldn’t let him ravage her within hours
of meeting. She pushed as hard as she could against his massive chest, but he
didn’t budge an inch. He was still coming forward, propelled in motion she
couldn’t stop. His lips found hers, and he kissed her roughly, his arms pulling
her close to his chest, his few days of beard growth scratching her face.

As rough as it was, there was
a
timidity
to it as well. It wasn’t as harsh as she’d expected, as if he
held something back. Soon, she was lost within the sensation, opening to him
when his tongue sought the seam of her lips. Sybille felt him sweep inside, the
caress nearly making her swoon. Not a fainter? He continued to prove her wrong
as she her knees wobbled under her.

His hand tangled in her curls and massaged her scalp
and
neck, making her relax
further in his embrace. His
mouth on hers felt far better than it should, but she was lost in his seductive
strokes. She heard a sob and a gasp and was embarrassed when she sluggishly
realized it came from her own mouth.

It might as well have been cold water; it splashed
along her frayed nerve endings and made her draw away from his searching mouth.
She instinctively brought a knee up to push against him, and he reared back, an
angry sneer twisting his lips, which had just been bringing her such pleasure.

“Minx.
You bow to my seduction only to tempt me closer so you could damage
my loins.”

“No—” She had not been about to attack, although given
her lack of control, perhaps it would be best for him to think she would have.
He would reconsider his next sensual attack if he thought she would damage his
family jewels. A smug smile played at her lips. Let him think what he would.

A hard glint came to his eyes, and the smile left her
lips. She had to remember she did not know how he would react in certain
situations, so pushing him too far, too soon could have dire consequences for
not just her, but her brothers. “I see restraints will be in order when I bed
you. I have no problem tying you to the bed.”

Fear rushed into her chest along with a pinch of lust
at the thought of being tied to his bed. “We are not yet married.”

Eustache stepped back and ducked his head under the
water for a moment, then rinsed the rest of the dirt from his face and neck,
the hot water trailing over his hard packed muscles as he stood. Her eyes were
drawn to his chest and shoulders, how lovely they were in their masculine
beauty. He caught her staring, and a flush burned in her cheeks once more. “I
have already sent for the priest. We shall be married soon, and you can forget
all these notions in your head to fight me. It should only be a day or two and
you will be mine.”

The word
mine
brought a chill up her spine yet it also heated her, bringing a tingling
sensation between her legs. Her mind and body were at war, and the confusion
that brought her made her head ache. “But I am not yet.”

He closed in until he was mere inches from her. “It
will be a matter of days, and I’ll have you tied to my bed, my cock filling that
lovely
quim
of yours.”

Eustache’s coarse words should have enraged her, but
instead they made her melt. She bit her lip to prevent the sob of ecstasy from
escaping her mouth. He washed the rest of his body with the rough cloth beside
the rim and then lifted himself with ease from the depths. His cock was still
big and thick, she noted from the corner of her eye. She did not want to look,
but she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She had seen the male form
before, but never one as fine as his.

When he turned his back to her, he began to draw a
pair of hose and a tunic from his saddlebag. She noted the lined scars that
crisscrossed his back and
arse
, the faint trails of
battles waged. He had apparently warred more than most, his body suffering from
arrow and sword wounds, and she felt a pinch of pity for him in that moment,
but she released it quickly. Here stood a man used to fighting, not lovemaking.
He knew nothing of romance; he reached out and took what he wanted with pure
violence. Now, he wanted her and her father’s lands.

She supposed they were no longer her father’s lands.
Her father had sold them to the highest bidder, with no care for the children
he left behind. Sybille had not allowed her mind to mull that over in the
bailey. She had not allowed it entry as she had gone about her duty in filling
his pot. But now, the weight of it rested on her shoulders. She and her
brothers were but pawn pieces.
Uncared for.

Her life would not be much different than it was now.
Instead of being her father’s property, now she would be her husband’s.

****

Eustache saw the sadness rush over the maiden’s
face
and knew he was part to blame for it. He had no
experience with ladies and wooing. He had spent most of his time in taverns
with ale wenches and whores. The women he spent his hours with were used to
catering to his needs, which were dark and plentiful. Even now his palms itched
to take the lass over his lap and spank her for her churlish attitude, but she
was already afraid of him, which he did not want her to be.

He wanted her to desire his touch. He wanted her to
welcome her into her bed. He had wanted it for three years past, since he had
seen her come to
Paris
with her parents. Eustache had been working for Baron
Montblanc
,
and de Campion had been a guest of the Count.

Sybille’s creamy skin had glowed in the fire light;
her soft blonde hair had glistened. She looked like the angels he had seen in
the cut glass windows of the Basilica of St. Denis. Her father had brought her
in an attempt to find her a husband, hoping her face would buy her a contract,
but his coffers were too empty and the men the Count surrounded himself with
too greedy. It was then that he had decided to buy her hand.

Eustache knew then he didn’t deserve her. He was the
lowliest of knights, a harsh man who was little better than the thieves and
bandits who roamed the countryside. He and his men had become warriors for
hire, willing to do about anything for gold. Eustache had even hit the
tournament cycle for a bit, earning them more.

And it had all been for her.

Every day he prayed to the heavens above that no one
else would take her before his fortune was large enough. He had come to
Paris
on Baron
Montblanc’s
request and run into de Campion with his eldest
sons being thrown from the gates. It had been a stroke of fate. Sybille’s
father had been desperate for gold. Eustache had given de Campion nearly every
coin he had and had walked away with the woman he had desired and would be able
to give her a home. The man did not deserve the daughter or the home, leaving
it behind without a backwards glance. He did not deserve her for leaving them
all alone and open to attack.

It amazed him no one had made the attempt before he
could get there. He had
rode
hard to the castle,
afraid he would find it in ruins and his woman dead. It would have been an
irony he would have deserved considering the life he had led, but for some
reason favor had smiled down upon him.