Passion Over Time Page 17

  Sir Bryant stared. He’d heard of such instruments, but had scarcely believed in their existence. What in God’s name did the wench intend to do with the thing? She set the box on the floor then, the phallus in hand, crawled onto the bed beside him. She bent her head and kissed him, soft and slow as if she knew full well she was driving him out of his mind. Bryant grasped her shoulders and yanked her to him, deepening the kiss. She sighed against his lips, then allowed his tongue inside again, sparring, but holding back just enough to drive him closer to the edge.

  Riana pulled away. His head swam and, when she tugged him into a sitting position at the foot of the bed, then sidled up to him arse first, he flinched. She reached back and spread her arse cheeks, then positioned herself so that his cock fitted into the crack as she carefully released her cheeks around him. The pressure closed in around the sensitive underside of his shaft and Bryant grasped her hips, thrusting upwards into the crack. He slid downwards and, when the crown reached the lower edge, she shifted. The tip of his cock entered the tiny rosette.

  Bryant froze. By God, she didn’t mean to—Riana reached back and grasped his shaft at the root. Slowly, she eased back onto him, stretching the opening against the intrusion of his engorged cock. She gasped, and all thought was shoved aside by the lust that flooded him. He couldn’t move as she inched him inside, numbing his senses to all but the exquisite feel of her tight arse around him. At last, she settled hilt-deep onto him and took a deep breath he felt clear to his balls.

  She didn’t move, and he started to ask what was wrong then realized her attention was on the painting hanging over the bed. He started to look up, but his gaze snagged on her fingers as they closed around the phallus on the bed beside them. His heart raced. Sweet Mary, she didn’t intend… The phallus disappeared in front of her and he leaned his chest against her slim back to look over her shoulder. A jolt went through him at sight of her rubbing the wooden tip against her sex. She shifted and he grasped her waist as she pulsed in several quick bursts that rocked her against his root in agonizing pleasure. A growl rumbled from his chest.

  He watched the phallus slide through the slick folds, then disappear inside her channel. She gasped and he pictured the thick wood buried hilt-deep inside her cream-filled sheath. His cock hardened to near pain. Bryant gritted his teeth when she shifted, and he realized she was easing the wooden rod out. She lifted and fell. Her speed increased as she jammed the device in and out.

  Desire streaked through him. By God, the wench was fucking her cunt—while he fucked her arse. His balls tightened. With skilled precision, she rocked forward, easing away from his shaft. Bryant’s squeezed her hips convulsively as she stopped just short of his cock slipping out. When she rocked back onto him, he drove deep.

  “My lord,” she breathed, and his belly tightened with the knowledge that his thrust had driven the phallus deeper.

  Forward, then back, he started a rhythm. Lust shot through him at the mental picture of the thick rod reappearing then disappearing within her sheath each time he rammed his cock into her. Her head fell back and gooseflesh tightened his chest muscles where her hair tickled his taut skin. She undulated against his thrusts, allowing him deeper, longer access and, with her forward motion, he knew the wooden cock was being stuffed ever deeper. She cupped a breast, and he could stand it no longer. He quickened his thrusts, unable to halt the need that built like a raging storm.

  Bryant wrapped one arm around her waist, grasped the phallus, and knelt up. He forced her forward onto all fours and thrust, keeping the wicked toy steady as he drove it deeper. She cried out. He quickened his thrusts. His gaze caught on the picture hanging over the bed. There was something strange about the eyes. Pleasure burst across his senses. He held the slick length of lacquered wood rigid as Riana’s cunt lips slammed against the edge of his palm.

  Overwhelming need throbbed through his cock and tightened his balls. His cum spurted into her arse as she spasmed around the phallic device. Her cry of pleasure sent a message straight to his shaft, and the convulsion shook his body. She rocked against the false cock, milking the last vestiges of satisfaction as he groaned through a final, long thrust and they collapsed onto the bed.

  His gaze caught on the painting, and understanding of the oddity he’d noticed earlier penetrated his desire-clouded brain. Someone watched from behind the picture. But who? Then he remembered the rumors, and knew. The duchess had been watching him fuck Riana.

  Chapter Four

  At last, Riana satisfied herself that the rise and fall of the knight’s chest meant he was in a deep sleep, and she slipped from beneath his arm and off the bed. In two steps she reached the table with the two goblets. She dumped the poison-laced wine into the chamber pot tucked away in the corner, took a long gulp of the other wine, then released a slow breath.

  The thought of Sir Bryant drinking the wine, then the duchess’ hasty order to bury his body when the paralysis set in, churned her stomach. Riana envisioned Sir Bryant awakening, the smell of damp earth filling his senses in the last minutes of life as he tried to claw his way through six feet of packed soil. A shiver skittered down her spine. Even his powerful arms wouldn’t be enough to dig him to freedom.

  She crossed to the chair sitting in the corner left of the door and grabbed the linen nightshift thrown over the cushion alongside the dress she’d readied. She slid the shift over her head, then the dress. Her gaze caught on the knight’s face, visible through the open curtain. Red hot embers cast soft light across his chiseled features. In the great hall, dressed in chain mail and surrounded by his comrades, he radiated danger. In sleep, the full mouth that had caressed her body had softened. The slight rise and fall of his massive chest belied the strength she’d felt when he’d lowered himself onto her. She’d sensed the tight rein he kept on his desire, his determination to make sure she’d taken her pleasure first.

  Riana had ridden him hard. She’d seen the duchess’ eyes behind the painting when he’d spread her legs a second time and pumped into her while sucking her breasts. A tremor rippled through her. She hadn’t forgotten that her objective was to keep the duchess busy long enough to give Glen and Siusan a head start. Yet while Sir Bryant fucked her, she had forgotten the duke and all other the men who had lain between her legs. She had even forgotten Stuart. Her core clenched with memory of the pleasure he had given her, pleasure beyond that she had shared with her husband.

  Guilt stabbed. How was it possible she could want another man as she had her husband? Stuart had been gentle, where Sir Bryant was demanding. Yet there was something more… Her stomach did a flip. She had felt helpless in his hands, small compared to his strength, yet safe. Her throat tightened. He had made her performance for the duchess easy. For that she would always be grateful—that and the reminder that not all men were cruel.

  ****

  Once the door had clicked shut behind Lady Ellis, Bryant rose and quickly donned his undergarments and tunic, then crossed to the bed. The duchess’ sexual tastes were no secret. It had to have been her watching them.

  By now, Riana would already be in her chambers. Her Grace’s room was to the right in the hallway that turned off from this, which meant a direct line between the two rooms. Bryant crawled onto the mattress, lifted the large picture from the wall, and leaned it against the wall beside the bed. Two circles were easily visible where the eyes of the picture fitted. The Peeping Tom could slide aside the strip that covered the small section, then peer directly down on the lovers. The duchess had been watching the entire time—and Riana had been aware of her.

  His jaw tensed. Lady Ellis was clearly accustomed to the duchess watching. How many times had the bitch forced Riana to perform like a trained bitch while she spied from behind the picture? And the duchess’ appetite wouldn’t be quenched by merely watching. She had touched herself, probably even had companionship when the whim moved her. Had she ever forced Riana to submit to her vile hand?

  Had the fact her mistress was watching influenced
Riana’s reactions to him? His cock jerked at recollection of how she had eased the phallus inside her channel while his rod was buried deep inside her arse. He’d never experienced such intense pleasure…or desire. Her moans had made him believe she wanted him to fuck her as hard as he could. Could a woman feign pleasure like that? She had seemed so eager to please. Too eager? Perhaps, but he would teach her that he could bring her just as much pleasure, and she would welcome him of her own accord.

  Bryant ran his fingers along the wall until he discerned an almost imperceptible crack in the stone. Carefully, he pressed in on the section of the wall and it clicked open a hair's breadth in his direction. He opened the door and peered inside the passageway. Dark as night.

  A moment later, lit candle in hand, he stepped over the wall and into the tunnel.

  ****

  Riana stood motionless in front the duchess as she turned from the hearth in her bedchambers and faced Riana.

  “What sort of fool do you take me for?” the duchess demanded.

  Riana didn’t flinch from her gaze. Glen and Siusan had been caught. How? Her insides quaked, but she forced a level voice. “It was sheer luck that you discovered their escape.”

  The duchess gave a spiteful laugh. “Your lack of gratitude is appalling. My husband and I saved you from the whore house.”

  Riana snorted. “This is a whore house.”

  “Your good fortune—”

  “Do not lecture me on my good fortune. Everyone knows that your husband forced my mother to marry Sir Harris so that he could gain control of Fyvie Castle and the land that butts up against Arundel. Just as everyone knows your husband feels it is his right to bed his wards.”

  “I promised your sister would marry well.”

  “You lied.”

  “Your pathetic attempt to distract me with Sir Bryant will not redeem you.”

  “Redeem me?” Riana replied. “I was beyond redemption the moment your husband fucked me.”

  “Many women crave his touch.”

  Riana gave a mirthless laugh. “I am not one of them.”

  “Mayhap your sister will be.”

  “Now you expect me to believe you are the fool,” Riana said. “Allow one hair on her head to be touched, and you will pay alongside your husband.”

  The duchess studied her. “Brave words, but even if you do not fear the hangman’s noose, your gaoler will make you regret being under his watch.” She began a slow walk around Riana. “It is rare that such a delectable piece as yourself sees the dungeons, so you may be sure he will make use of every opportunity to stuff his cock inside you before the noose is placed around your pretty neck.”

  “There will be little difference between that place and this,” Riana replied. “A prison with silk dresses and a king’s table is still a prison, and linen sheets are no better than rags when shared with foul animals like those you send to my bed.”

  “Indeed?” The older woman’s eyes glittered with an unholy light. “Imagine your naked body chained to the cell wall, legs spread as the warden’s grimy mouth devours your cunt. Once he has had his fill of your cream, he will ram his cock inside you and pound into you until your backside is sore from rubbing against the hard stone wall.” She halted and leaned close, breath hot against Riana’s ear as she added, “And all the while, his companions will be watching…waiting for their turn.” She straightened, eyes bright. “He will sell you to every man with the coin to pay. Some will pay well for the privilege of taking you two at a time. By the saints, I may have to watch.”

  Riana lifted the corners of her mouth in a slow smile, “You will be dead.”

  The older woman jerked back as if bitten. Her mouth thinned and the lust that glazed her eyes vanished. “You disobeyed my order to kill Sir Dunbar.”

  “‘Tis not my fault the wrong knight came to my bed.”

  “You handled Sir Bryant well.”

  “Handled him well?” Riana repeated. “I have had much practice, thanks to you.”

  “Do not deny that you enjoyed him. I saw the difference between him and the other men.”

  Riana kept her expression bland. “What you saw was me ensuring that you did not leave.”

  “What I saw was you fucking a man for pleasure. Perhaps in the future you will apply the same techniques and take more pleasure in your…work. Now, Sir Dunbar is in the bedchambers on the third floor where Sir Bryant should have been. I have made sure he has wine. Clean yourself, then go to him and finish the deed.”

  “Where is my sister?” Riana demanded.

  “In her chambers. We are fortunate to have thwarted the escape. Did it not occur to you that the very thing you fear could happen to her would? What if one of Sir Dunbar’s men had encountered her? They would not have protected her as the duke’s men will.”

  “Her maidenhead is a small price for freedom,” Riana replied.

  The duchess’ brows shot up. “They would pass her around until she bled.”

  “Not all men are like your husband,” Riana said, and started to turn.

  “Are you not going to ask about your beloved Glen?”

  Riana halted. “Glen? What of him?”

  “I turned him over to the sheriff.”

  “The sheriff?” Riana burst out. “But why? He has committed no crime.”

  “Kidnapping a noblewoman is a crime punishable by hanging.”

  Riana’s insides shook. “Wha—what do you mean? He did not kidnap her.”

  “My husband thinks he did.”

  Her head reeled. Glen in prison? Riana fell to her knees and grasped the duchess’ hand. “I beg you, do not hang him.”

  “It is him or your sister, Riana.” Cold blue eyes stared down at her. “Which shall it be?”

  The duchess knew she wouldn’t sacrifice Siusan. Head bowed, Riana rose and crossed to the door. She closed the door behind her and paused in the hallway. Without Glen, Siusan had no chance of escape, and escape they must, for the duchess now understood that Riana would no longer wait to save her sister. How much time before the duchess gave Siusan to the duke? She wanted Sir Dunbar eliminated. If Riana could forestall his death for even a few hours, she might obtain Glen’s freedom, and find a way to get Siusan out of Arundel.

  Tears burned the corners of her eyes at the thought of the old mute locked in a cell with criminals who would as soon cut his throat as shove their cocks inside his arse. He was strong. At least he could protect himself…for a time.

  She swallowed, her throat dry. The duchess had unknowingly given Riana the answer to Glen’s freedom. The warden would be willing to grant favors in exchange for a delectable piece such as herself. Riana’s stomach turned at thought of the gaol keeper’s grimy mouth clamped to her mound as he attempted to suck her into pleasure. The fool would never know he hadn’t succeeded.

  Chapter Five

  Fury rammed through Bryant. Using Riana as a whore wasn’t enough. The duchess would have the young woman murder for her. He had wondered why Riana had emptied the wine goblet into the chamber pot. He was gratified to understand she wouldn’t chance him drinking the deadly wine by mistake. She was no murderess, at least not at heart.

  The duchess, however, schemed to murder his mentor, the man who had been more of a father to him than his own father. Twenty-three years ago, Bryant’s father had torn him from his mother’s arms at the age of seven and gave him to Dunbar as his page. Now Bryant was a knight to be reckoned with—though he wasn’t powerful enough to stand against the Duke or Duchess of Arundel.

  Bryant’s word wouldn’t be enough to bring her to justice for conspiring to murder, but Sir Dunbar would believe him and, if the older knight saw the wisdom in the plan now forming in Bryant’s mind, together, they might wield some power over the duke and duchess.

  Five minutes later, Bryant entered Sir Dunbar’s room.

  Dunbar cursed and propped himself up in bed when Bryant lit a candle. “‘Tis the middle of the night.”

  “I can leave and take with me
the information about the attempt on your life,” Bryant said.

  Dunbar threw back the covers and sat up. “Who have I offended this time?”

  Bryant lowered himself into the chair to the left of the bed. “The Duchess of Arundel.”

  Dunbar’s brows rose in question, and Bryant told him all he’d overheard between her and Riana.

  Ten minutes later, Bryant had finished the tale and he leaned back in his chair as Dunbar gulped the last of the wine he had poured.

  He set the goblet on the night stand beside the bed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You are damned fortunate the wench did not feed you the poison just for good measure—and I am fortunate to have caught the eye of that serving maid. Had she not brought me to these chambers, I would have certainly fucked the whore, then drank the poison she fed me.” He grinned. “Your life for mine is a fair trade after all, the times I’ve saved your life.”

  Bryant recognized the amusement in the comment, but gave a serious nod. He would gladly give his life for the older knight.

  “This is the work of Shrewsbury,” Dunbar said. “With me out of the way, he could take control of my forces and seize my land—mayhap yours as well. His army combined with mine would give him a seat at Sir Andrew’s table, and an ear with David once the pup takes his place as king. Curse Shrewsbury,” Dunbar muttered. “The bastard made a pact with that bitch—they are well suited.” Dunbar snorted. “She likely used your little bitch to seal the deal.”

  “She is no bitch” Bryant replied.

  “She is a whore.”

  “I intend to marry her.”

  “Marry her?” Dunbar blurted. “Have you gone mad?”

  “I am a bastard,” Bryant replied. “Who am I to judge her station in life?”

  “Your station will be greatly enhanced once you marry a proper lady—something you should have done five years ago.”