The Wagered Wench (12 page)

Dominic Coeur-du-Loup had charmed her father and the people of Lyndower with his quiet, decisive manner. This annoyed her perhaps most of all. He was more highly respected already than she had ever been. Gudderth was delighted with his son-in-law, talking and laughing with him long into the night, while Elsinora waited in the bed, growing impatient. Even Bertha now went out of her way to plan meals around Dominic’s tastes.

“That young man has saved Lyndower,” the old cook was heard to say more than once. “He deserves to eat what he wants.”

The Norman could do no wrong, it seemed, where Elsinora could never do anything right.

Stryker had gone to plead his case before Count Robert, but a decision was yet to be made. Meanwhile their neighbor hovered, watching, waiting for his chance. Dominic did not discuss the matter with her. Of course not. He discussed nothing important with her because she was merely a woman. She could not tell what he thought of her. There was a wall of distrust between them and it would take a strong storm to blow it down.

What did she know of her husband? Almost nothing but his name.

If not for that scar, she wondered, would he ever have ventured to Lyndower? Probably not. Only a desperate, lonely, scarred man with no life would have come to that distant place and taken her on—with all her prickles.

She spied on him through the grass, trying to make sense of this man who had appeared out of the dark like some hero of Norse legend. He’d told her he had no family, but he kept secrets. She sensed it. A man so quiet and reserved must be capable of holding dark secrets, she thought, chewing slowly on a blade of grass.

He had, as far as she could tell, remained true to his promise and not touched any other woman since their marriage three months ago, but how long would that last? She knew the people of Lyndower speculated on that too. They didn’t think she would keep him content. Many of them, she suspected, waited to see him stray from her bed, just so they knew he was a normal man. She had begun to think he did not stray simply because he was guarding “his property” from Stryker Bloodaxe.

As she watched him, he paused a moment, resting his shovel, straightening out his back and shoulders. She felt that all too familiar skip in her pulse, the tension in her quinny. It was quite sickening really, this sinful yearning. It was unstoppable, remorseless. She only had to look at him—all sweaty and bronzed in the sun—to start thinking about what would happen between them later, when he eventually came to bed.

Only last night, when he’d stumbled through the tapestry bed curtain, weary after another hard day’s toil, her husband had remarked wryly upon his relief at not having to chase her around the bed anymore.

He never let her forget that, naturally. He liked to remind her of how quickly she was conquered.

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed, staring through the grass. She hadn’t put up enough fight in the end, she thought peevishly. That was the trouble. She’d been confused, hounded into this marriage, backed into it. None of it was fair.

Dominic knew she was in the grass, a short distance away, hiding like a sly snake, thinking he couldn’t see her. She regarded him still as the enemy, he realized, frustrated. Partly it was his fault; he knew that. But how could he risk letting her closer, when she could be ripped away from him by Count Robert’s decision? He would not let himself be hurt like that again. A man had his pride to consider. He did not want to feel anything more than lust for her. Lust was a commodity he understood. Any pain it caused was physical and easily soothed.

A little squeeze in his chest, just under his ribs, caused him to stop again and take a deep breath. His back ached. He wiped his forearm across his sweat-dampened brow. It must be noon by now, but today he wasn’t hungry. Good thing too, since his wife hadn’t bothered to bring him any food. Other men’s sweethearts carried baskets of lunch and jugs of ale up the hill for them. But not Elsinora.

He turned his attention back to the hole they were digging. Soon the foundation would be complete. That was something to bring gladness to his heart. The work progressed well now that the weather was so fine and Count Robert had sent skilled men to help him with the build.As he scanned the horizon—fields of corn and wheat, rooftops emitting shallow puffs of smoke, and there, over his shoulder, the glistening sea, Dominic felt a warm, shy hope that he might be allowed to keep this place. Perhaps it could be forgotten again, left in his hands.

In the corner of his vision he saw Elsinora leap out of the grass and run, heading for the path down the cliffs, her golden braid flying behind her. She ran clumsily, he mused, watching her dart along. Where was she going in such haste?

He squinted up at the sky. Yes the sun was directly overhead now. Noon. It was blistering hot, but down in the bay, in the shadow of those rocky fingers that poked up out of the sand, it would be cooler. Is that where she went?

Calling to his men to take a rest, he dropped his shovel and followed his wife down to the sandy beach below.

Even when he lost sight of her at the path’s turn, he could hear her humming. It was a tune he’d heard from her lips often and at times it was stuck in his head, a lilting, pensive sound that sometimes soared, then dropped. Like a fallen leaf caught on a sudden updraft. Finally she appeared ahead of him, taking the last step down onto the sand and slowing her pace to a stroll.

Fearing she might see him follow, he hunkered down, hiding behind a fat sheaf of sea grass. The bay was deserted, the water as far up now as it would come today. He watched his wife walk into the water and make her way along the tide line toward the cliffs on the far end of the crescent. He stood and strolled after her.

It was dangerous for a woman to wander off alone, yet apparently she was accustomed to taking walks unaccompanied. Dominic shook his head when he thought of her obstinacy. He’d mentioned to her father that Elsinora should not be left unchaperoned, allowed to traverse the countryside untended. Gudderth had agreed but then done nothing to curb his daughter.

She was now, of course, Dominic’s burden. Dominic’s trouble.

The woman stopped, bending over to pick a shell from a snaggle of seaweed. He slowed so he would not catch up with her. He wanted to see what she did when she thought herself alone. She might arrange to meet Bloodaxe one of these days. In which case, he would catch her and punish her. And take his sword to his rival’s throat, as he should have done already. Only guilt over the weighted dice kept him from ending the feud with violence, because in the back of his mind he knew he probably had less right to Elsinora than Stryker did.

The bottom of her gown was already wet, sticking to the curve of her legs when she moved on, stepping high over the seaweed. Dominic gazed at her swaying hips, unable to look away. Her motion charmed him into a strange, cloudy state, until his heart was beating to the tune she hummed. The gentle tide dragged on her gown as she paddled into deeper water and her buttocks were clearly outlined, the skirt pulled this way and that, water wicking up the material until it was darker almost all the way to her knees.

He felt the heaviness in his loins, the ache begin. Not that it was ever completely absent when she was near. The damnable pixie had his cock enthralled. Her pussy held the power of a fakir’s horn over a viper. At night, in that big bed behind the curtain, she was everything he could want, uninhibited, yielding and passionate. But in the daytime she kept her distance. Except when she felt the need to argue with him on some matter. As she’d once promised, she fought every change he tried to make. Her hot-temper needed outlet at least once a day, so he’d discovered, and always it was aimed at him. Would that ever change?

And why did it matter to him if it didn’t?

Dominic had never been the sort to want conversation with a female and since the fucking was beyond expectation he should be satisfied.

What else did he want from her? He’d won her with crooked dice. He had no right to ask for more than she gave now, especially when he could give her nothing more in return.

His wife left the water now, her feet padding across the sand. Frequently she stopped to gather shells, treating him, each time, to a glimpse of skin through the wet patches on her thin summer gown. She wore no shift beneath because of the heat. With one hand shading his eyes from the harsh sun, he stared, admiring her arse. Raw temptation. He shuddered. Vibrations tickled his balls and up along his swelling shaft.

She headed now for the mouth of a cave and he followed, steps quickening silently over the sand. What went in had only one way out. He had her trapped.

Her hair was a golden beacon, leading him on with a siren’s promise. His back and shoulders no longer ached. He licked his lips and tasted sea salt. Soon the sound of the waves was a far whisper, obscured by the neediness of his own breath.

But there he saw another person, waiting in the shadows, just emerged from the curve of rock.

Sun caught on the figure’s hair and he knew it was Stryker.

The only thing that kept him from running down the sand and leaping upon the other man, was the fact that Elsinora stumbled to a surprised halt. Clearly she had not expected to see Stryker there.

Dominic dove behind a grassy dune and watched, his blood pumping.

The other man was so intent on Elsinora that he must not have noticed she was followed along the bay. He shouted to her, his voice cutting the still air like a scythe through wheat.

“You promised me, Elsinora. Your virginity was to be mine. I waited. God knows I waited! You owe me. And this Norman won’t want you once your father’s dead. He plays husband now to please Gudderth, but he only cares about the land. Surely you see that.”

He could not hear his wife’s reply, or even if there was one. Irritated, he tucked low and scrambled through the grasses to get closer.

“Do you remember how you moaned when I had my tongue on your quim once, Elsinora? How much you enjoyed it? Do you remember you promised me then that I’d have you one day? Does the Norman know the things we used to do together by that stream?”

Dominic felt his lip twitch, knew his anger was fast being pushed beyond safe boundaries.

His wife made no denial, but looked at the sand.

“Do you miss me, Elsinora? The things I did for you? I can do them again. If you want me to. I wager I do them better than the Norman.”

“Go away, Stryker. I cannot talk to you like this.” She glanced over her shoulder and Dominic ducked hastily, falling to his knees behind the dune, cursing softly as he cut his hand on a broken shell.

“Then we need not talk.” Stryker stepped closer to her and laid a hand brazenly over her left tit. “I’ll remind you of how I make you feel and then you can decide who you prefer. Me or him.”

Dominic almost got to his feet and shouted. But he stopped, restrained himself. While she did not know he was there, what would happen? He decided to test his wife. See what she allowed the other man to do. He thought he kept her content in bed, but perhaps not. As for Stryker Bloodaxe, he would pay for this later.

Chapter Ten

She gasped at the touch of his hand through her gown. Her nipple reacted instantly and against her wishes. Stryker laughed huskily when it poked his palm and then he circled the small protrusion with his finger.

“Your bubbies remember me fondly, Elsie. Look at this one,” he exhaled an admiring whistle, “begging for a good sucking.”

She pushed his hand away and moved onward, into the mouth of the cave, leaving him behind. Her feelings for Stryker were scattered, just as they were about the Norman. Their neighbor was not a bad man, despite his occasional bouts of temper and a habit of sulking when he didn’t get his own way. Stryker could not have expected her father to give her away over a game of dice, anymore than she had. It was a shock to them both after so many years of friendship and Elsinora was confused, unsure where her loyalties now lay. Stryker was a part of her youth, a known quantity, predictable, even reassuring. He did not change while everything else around her was transforming. Giving up on him and taking the Norman’s side would seem like a betrayal. And yet she could not deny her growing attraction to Dominic. His quiet steadiness made him very different to most males she’d ever had in her life. She had not seen him lose his temper once. Even when he raised his voice, which was rare, his tone was calm. But she knew nothing about him. She knew everything about Stryker. There were no secrets
he
could ever keep, she thought, shaking her head.

The cave was damp inside, the air cool and heavy with the memory of the last high tide to flood through that opening. Salty teardrops wriggled down the walls and the rocks beneath her feet were green, slippery with slime. The outside world and that scalding sun vanished as she moved deeper inside the dank cliff. Here was where she often found the best shells, large ones still intact. Sometimes she discovered interesting driftwood to make into baskets, or pretty stones she could work into jewelry.

What she did not usually find was two men following her.

Elsinora knew Dominic was there. She’d seen him creeping after her along the sand. Her heart beat fluttered, missing a few beats. Why did he not shout her name if he followed her? Why did he let Stryker fondle her breast like that? Her husband didn’t appear to be in the mood to admonish her, or confront his rival. Yet. So what was he up to?

She decided to pretend she hadn’t seen. After all, she had a way out of the cave that he did not know about and if she wanted to use it, she would. In truth, Elsinora wasn’t ready to use it yet. She liked having Dominic’s attention and she surely had it now.