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Authors: Carolyn Faulkner
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half deaf, but he’d been his father’s man, and Piers couldn’t see his way to getting rid of him.
Amber, for her part, sat there, amazed at what had just happened. She had never seen the like in her life, and it was written all over her face. Piers caught a glimpse of that look before he relaxed back into the rapidly cooling water of his bath.
“Don’t tell me that watching me spill my seed was quite that horrendous an event. From the look on your face I would thing you’d seen a ghost or a demon.” Incongruously, he added,
“Fetch my bath sheet.”
So that was what it meant when a man spilt his seed! “But that’s a sin!” She rose and brought him the towel, holding it for him as he got out of the tub.
Piers crossed to the door and called for Archie to have someone come collect the tub. As he dried himself, completely unselfconscious about his nakedness in front of her, apparently, he chuckled a bit. “I’ve always been surprised at that concept. It’s not as if there’s not more where that came from.”
Amber was trying desperately to look anywhere in the room but at him. She settled on staring out the window, and blotting the thing he’d just made her do out of her conscience as best she could. What was that thing he’d made her touch, and what had happened to him? It had seemed to be a lot like what he’d done to her recently, but she didn’t have equipment like that down there. She’d never seen the like, except on male animals.
“You can go now, Amber, but keep close. No venturing into the woods for hours at a time.”
She had the grace to blush that he even knew she did this.
Piers came up behind her. “Mrs. Tulane keeps me informed of everything you do – and everything you don’t do,” he advised.
“The King is honoring us with a visit, and we will be pressing every hand into hard service to make ready for his arrival.”
“Yes, Sir.” Amber curtsied, and walked towards the door to his room.
“Use the back stairway, my flower. No sense in ruining your reputation unnecessarily.” As if the arrangements for the King weren’t enough, with the entire castle and most of the nearby village scurrying around underfoot in preparation, recently everyone in his regiment, it seemed, was coming out of the woodwork to ask him for permission to marry Amber, with the distinct exception of Troy, who had never forgiven her for his mishap with the fountain. He, instead, spent his time filling Piers’ ear with vitriol against her, such ridiculous things as that she was a spy, a whore, and a witch, and anything else unpleasant he could concoct.
But everyone else sang her praises as if she were a gift from Heaven above; despite the fact that Piers knew that Troy did his best to spread his vicious gossip amongst them, too. But her good deeds outshone his patently false words. She’d healed this one’s boil and that one’s tooth and stitched the other’s certainly mortal wound, all with a soft, woman’s heart and a gentle, angel’s touch. If he had to hear one more randy buck singing her praises he was going to massacre his own regiment.
Finally, at the end of training, he told Bruce - who was one of the few who had not come to him, even though Piers knew that he, too, thought very highly of Amber - of the situation, and told him to distribute this information amongst the men: that if any of them wanted to marry Amber, they would have his blessing, but he would claim droit de seigneur. Luckily, Fitzwilliam was too shy to have asked, or that declaration would probably have gotten Piers handed his head on a platter.
From that day on, no one came to him asking for Amber’s hand. None of his men would ever consider having a woman to wife after he’d taken her virginity on what was supposed to have been their wedding night. It just couldn’t happen. Their honor meant too much to them.
Bruce had done as he was told, but then also came back to Piers, who was his commander but also an old
Amber, for her part, sat there, amazed at what had just happened. She had never seen the like in her life, and it was written all over her face. Piers caught a glimpse of that look before he relaxed back into the rapidly cooling water of his bath.
“Don’t tell me that watching me spill my seed was quite that horrendous an event. From the look on your face I would thing you’d seen a ghost or a demon.” Incongruously, he added,
“Fetch my bath sheet.”
So that was what it meant when a man spilt his seed! “But that’s a sin!” She rose and brought him the towel, holding it for him as he got out of the tub.
Piers crossed to the door and called for Archie to have someone come collect the tub. As he dried himself, completely unselfconscious about his nakedness in front of her, apparently, he chuckled a bit. “I’ve always been surprised at that concept. It’s not as if there’s not more where that came from.”
Amber was trying desperately to look anywhere in the room but at him. She settled on staring out the window, and blotting the thing he’d just made her do out of her conscience as best she could. What was that thing he’d made her touch, and what had happened to him? It had seemed to be a lot like what he’d done to her recently, but she didn’t have equipment like that down there. She’d never seen the like, except on male animals.
“You can go now, Amber, but keep close. No venturing into the woods for hours at a time.”
She had the grace to blush that he even knew she did this.
Piers came up behind her. “Mrs. Tulane keeps me informed of everything you do – and everything you don’t do,” he advised.
“The King is honoring us with a visit, and we will be pressing every hand into hard service to make ready for his arrival.”
“Yes, Sir.” Amber curtsied, and walked towards the door to his room.
“Use the back stairway, my flower. No sense in ruining your reputation unnecessarily.” As if the arrangements for the King weren’t enough, with the entire castle and most of the nearby village scurrying around underfoot in preparation, recently everyone in his regiment, it seemed, was coming out of the woodwork to ask him for permission to marry Amber, with the distinct exception of Troy, who had never forgiven her for his mishap with the fountain. He, instead, spent his time filling Piers’ ear with vitriol against her, such ridiculous things as that she was a spy, a whore, and a witch, and anything else unpleasant he could concoct.
But everyone else sang her praises as if she were a gift from Heaven above; despite the fact that Piers knew that Troy did his best to spread his vicious gossip amongst them, too. But her good deeds outshone his patently false words. She’d healed this one’s boil and that one’s tooth and stitched the other’s certainly mortal wound, all with a soft, woman’s heart and a gentle, angel’s touch. If he had to hear one more randy buck singing her praises he was going to massacre his own regiment.
Finally, at the end of training, he told Bruce - who was one of the few who had not come to him, even though Piers knew that he, too, thought very highly of Amber - of the situation, and told him to distribute this information amongst the men: that if any of them wanted to marry Amber, they would have his blessing, but he would claim droit de seigneur. Luckily, Fitzwilliam was too shy to have asked, or that declaration would probably have gotten Piers handed his head on a platter.
From that day on, no one came to him asking for Amber’s hand. None of his men would ever consider having a woman to wife after he’d taken her virginity on what was supposed to have been their wedding night. It just couldn’t happen. Their honor meant too much to them.
Bruce had done as he was told, but then also came back to Piers, who was his commander but also an old
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