Read Online A Love for All Time by Bertrice Small - Free Book Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
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all-powerful here, and who says who may come, and who may stay, and who may be an earl. She could just as easily create yon handsome Irishman a duke.” Then with a smile William Cecil looked out upon the wild game of Blind Man’s Bluff currently being played in the queen’s presence.
Conn O’Malley, blindfolded, was stumbling with outstretched arms amongst the queen’s maids of honor who scampered shrieking all about him. He stopped for a moment, listening, attempting to determine a near victim. Then suddenly he swung completely about, and reaching out his hands closed about a supple waist. Without even waiting to draw the blindfold off his eyes he pulled the girl toward him, and found her lips with his own. To his very great surprise, the generous mouth beneath his was stiff with inexperience, but his prisoner made no attempt to escape him. She had to be one of the youngest girls serving the queen, but yet she could not be for she was tall against him. Expertly he molded both his body and his mouth against the girl, and then felt her lips soften beneath his while at the same time she trembled; a reaction which immediately brought out a protective instinct in him. Who was this wench?
He loosened his grip upon her just slightly, and murmured against her lips, “Don’t be frightened, sweetheart,” and reaching up he removed his blindfold to see the girl. He didn’t recognize her at all, and as his green eyes met her gray ones she blushed scarlet, and with a little cry fled to the queen’s side. The other girls were now giggling, and he asked one of them, “Who was that?”
“Mistress St. Michael, the queen’s latest ward. The queen made her a maid of honor when she dismissed Althea Tailleboys, and sent her home.”
He looked to the girl who now sat on a stool by the queen’s chair, her slender fingers now busily, almost too busily, untangling the rainbow-colored threads from the queen’s embroidery basket. He couldn’t ever remember having seen her before, but then there was nothing about her to distinguish her. She had never been kissed before, of that he was certain. Yet he could see she was not the very young girl that most of the queen’s maids were. How did it happen that a girl of her age hadn’t been kissed before? Her lips had been incredibly sweet. It was her innocence, he supposed, though he thought her rather old to be so innocent. Then with a shrug he replaced the blindfold, and began anew to play Blind Man’s Bluff amid the giggling girls of the queen’s inner circle.
He didn’t think about Mistress St. Michael until later, and then only briefly as Lady Glytha Holden kissed him with such a passionate expertise he was almost left breathless. How different, he thought, as he loosened his mistress’ laces so he might fondle her breasts, how very different Glytha’s kisses are from the little wench I kissed earlier.
Glytha stirred in his arms. “What are you thinking of?” she demanded of him.
“I’m thinking that you have the most beautiful tits,” he returned, bending to kiss each nipple of the firm breasts she presented him. She really was a lovely woman; small-boned, and not too tall, with fine white skin, and gold hair that held just a hint of red; eyes as blue as a lake. She had a pious Puritan husband who having gotten a son and heir as well as twin daughters upon her preferred being on his knees in prayer to being on his wife’s body in passion. Though her daughters were of marriageable age and Glytha herself was past thirty, she was still filled with lustful fires. Conn was not the first of her lovers, nor would he be the last. Even now they were becoming bored with each other, and Conn had only recently noticed what delicious and ripe miniatures of their mother Grace and Faith Holden were.
“Yer a liar,” Glytha said petulantly. “Yer thinking of another woman, aren’t ye?”
“What woman?” he countered.
Glytha sniffed. “I don’t know what woman, but not me,
Conn O’Malley, blindfolded, was stumbling with outstretched arms amongst the queen’s maids of honor who scampered shrieking all about him. He stopped for a moment, listening, attempting to determine a near victim. Then suddenly he swung completely about, and reaching out his hands closed about a supple waist. Without even waiting to draw the blindfold off his eyes he pulled the girl toward him, and found her lips with his own. To his very great surprise, the generous mouth beneath his was stiff with inexperience, but his prisoner made no attempt to escape him. She had to be one of the youngest girls serving the queen, but yet she could not be for she was tall against him. Expertly he molded both his body and his mouth against the girl, and then felt her lips soften beneath his while at the same time she trembled; a reaction which immediately brought out a protective instinct in him. Who was this wench?
He loosened his grip upon her just slightly, and murmured against her lips, “Don’t be frightened, sweetheart,” and reaching up he removed his blindfold to see the girl. He didn’t recognize her at all, and as his green eyes met her gray ones she blushed scarlet, and with a little cry fled to the queen’s side. The other girls were now giggling, and he asked one of them, “Who was that?”
“Mistress St. Michael, the queen’s latest ward. The queen made her a maid of honor when she dismissed Althea Tailleboys, and sent her home.”
He looked to the girl who now sat on a stool by the queen’s chair, her slender fingers now busily, almost too busily, untangling the rainbow-colored threads from the queen’s embroidery basket. He couldn’t ever remember having seen her before, but then there was nothing about her to distinguish her. She had never been kissed before, of that he was certain. Yet he could see she was not the very young girl that most of the queen’s maids were. How did it happen that a girl of her age hadn’t been kissed before? Her lips had been incredibly sweet. It was her innocence, he supposed, though he thought her rather old to be so innocent. Then with a shrug he replaced the blindfold, and began anew to play Blind Man’s Bluff amid the giggling girls of the queen’s inner circle.
He didn’t think about Mistress St. Michael until later, and then only briefly as Lady Glytha Holden kissed him with such a passionate expertise he was almost left breathless. How different, he thought, as he loosened his mistress’ laces so he might fondle her breasts, how very different Glytha’s kisses are from the little wench I kissed earlier.
Glytha stirred in his arms. “What are you thinking of?” she demanded of him.
“I’m thinking that you have the most beautiful tits,” he returned, bending to kiss each nipple of the firm breasts she presented him. She really was a lovely woman; small-boned, and not too tall, with fine white skin, and gold hair that held just a hint of red; eyes as blue as a lake. She had a pious Puritan husband who having gotten a son and heir as well as twin daughters upon her preferred being on his knees in prayer to being on his wife’s body in passion. Though her daughters were of marriageable age and Glytha herself was past thirty, she was still filled with lustful fires. Conn was not the first of her lovers, nor would he be the last. Even now they were becoming bored with each other, and Conn had only recently noticed what delicious and ripe miniatures of their mother Grace and Faith Holden were.
“Yer a liar,” Glytha said petulantly. “Yer thinking of another woman, aren’t ye?”
“What woman?” he countered.
Glytha sniffed. “I don’t know what woman, but not me,
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