Read Online Hellion (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 7) by Jayne Fresina - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jayne Fresina
Tags: Erótica, alpha male, Erotic Romance, mfm, anal sex, caning, public exhibition, twisted erotica publishing, brief ff, branding, seven brides for seven bastards, Hellion, shaving, exhibition erotica, geeorgia fox, the final wife, women behaving badly
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Salvador. No one, she was
quite sure, could ever suspect her of anything more than a meeting
of perfectly innocent business with her neighbor. Even if these
meetings did happen by moonlight. Why not? Both she and Salvador
were busy during the day— had too much else to do.
Helene recalled seeing her father
welcome people to their castellany at night. Men who came to drink
wine and tell stories of their glory days. If that was what men
did, why should she not do the same with her neighbor?
"Is the demon no longer our enemy
then, my lady?" the guard asked her as they rode together again the
half mile to d'Anzeray's castle walls.
"Of course he is still our
enemy."
"But—"
"Sometimes one must be close to one's
enemy in order to know what they are thinking. That is what my
father used to say."
This seemed to satisfy her escort's
curiosity and once he had thought about it for a while he said,
"And while he thinks you are his friend, he sends you field labor
and oxen, my lady. That is most clever."
"Yes," she replied, smug. "Why else
would I pretend to befriend the ill-tempered old
bastard?"
* * * *
His brothers were half asleep by the
fire when the soldier came to Sal and announced that the Widow de
Leon was at the gate. "She insists upon seeing you, although we
tried to send her on her way, sire."
Instantly Raul woke from his stupor
and leapt up, eager to put the "old crone" in her place. He
suggested that Sal let him scare her off once and for
all.
Alarmed, heart pumping hard, Sal
assured him he could manage. "Stay here and I'll handle her," he
growled. "I'll be but a moment."
He swept out, running a hasty hand
back through his hair, aware that in the company of his brothers
he'd drunk more wine than he wanted to tonight. They'd kept him
talking and he hadn't been able to slip away and shave his face
smooth. She'd have to put up with his bristles when he took his
taste. He'd try not to scrape her soft skin too much.
When she saw him approach the gate,
she handed her reins to the escort at her side and told him to wait
for her. "I shall not be long," Sal heard her mutter.
Hmm. That was what she thought, he
mused.
Tonight she wore that hooded cloak
again and he was impatient to get it off her, to put his mouth on
her. All over her.
He signaled for the gate to be opened
and the guards did so warily, casting him puzzled glances. Not that
they would dare argue or question, of course. Sal had heard that
the widow Calledaux allowed her serfs to converse with her as if
they were equals, yet her tone with him was always so haughty and
superior that he didn't know if he believed it.
Perhaps she saved that harsh, cold
tongue for him alone. Well, lately, he'd been saving something for
her alone too.
"I thought you understood to wait
alone at the gate for me, as before," she snapped at
him.
"I was busy."
"Oh, then I'll go away
again."
He grabbed her arm at once to insure
she stayed. Her escort reached for his sword, but Helene quickly
shouted up at him to wait behind at the gate.
The young soldier looked vexed. "But,
my lady, I must—"
"I do not need you to stay with me.
Stay here with these soldiers and look after our horses. Perhaps
these men can show you some hospitality." She added wryly, "If they
have any."
Sal instructed his men to bring a mug
of ale for her escort and then, worried his brothers might come out
to the yard, he quickly steered her around behind the wall of the
blacksmith's forge.
"How dare you?" she exclaimed. "Unhand
me."
"Hush, woman. Keep your voice
down."
Her hood was dislodged by the speed as
he moved her out of the guards' sight, and when light from a nearby
rush torch caught in her hair Sal felt that now familiar pulse
thudding through him again. "You should not come out without your
wimple," he chastised her.
Her eyes widened. "I'll do as I
please."
How young she looked. Beautiful. He
raised a hand to touch her hair, but she stepped back, her shoulder
to the stone wall of the
quite sure, could ever suspect her of anything more than a meeting
of perfectly innocent business with her neighbor. Even if these
meetings did happen by moonlight. Why not? Both she and Salvador
were busy during the day— had too much else to do.
Helene recalled seeing her father
welcome people to their castellany at night. Men who came to drink
wine and tell stories of their glory days. If that was what men
did, why should she not do the same with her neighbor?
"Is the demon no longer our enemy
then, my lady?" the guard asked her as they rode together again the
half mile to d'Anzeray's castle walls.
"Of course he is still our
enemy."
"But—"
"Sometimes one must be close to one's
enemy in order to know what they are thinking. That is what my
father used to say."
This seemed to satisfy her escort's
curiosity and once he had thought about it for a while he said,
"And while he thinks you are his friend, he sends you field labor
and oxen, my lady. That is most clever."
"Yes," she replied, smug. "Why else
would I pretend to befriend the ill-tempered old
bastard?"
* * * *
His brothers were half asleep by the
fire when the soldier came to Sal and announced that the Widow de
Leon was at the gate. "She insists upon seeing you, although we
tried to send her on her way, sire."
Instantly Raul woke from his stupor
and leapt up, eager to put the "old crone" in her place. He
suggested that Sal let him scare her off once and for
all.
Alarmed, heart pumping hard, Sal
assured him he could manage. "Stay here and I'll handle her," he
growled. "I'll be but a moment."
He swept out, running a hasty hand
back through his hair, aware that in the company of his brothers
he'd drunk more wine than he wanted to tonight. They'd kept him
talking and he hadn't been able to slip away and shave his face
smooth. She'd have to put up with his bristles when he took his
taste. He'd try not to scrape her soft skin too much.
When she saw him approach the gate,
she handed her reins to the escort at her side and told him to wait
for her. "I shall not be long," Sal heard her mutter.
Hmm. That was what she thought, he
mused.
Tonight she wore that hooded cloak
again and he was impatient to get it off her, to put his mouth on
her. All over her.
He signaled for the gate to be opened
and the guards did so warily, casting him puzzled glances. Not that
they would dare argue or question, of course. Sal had heard that
the widow Calledaux allowed her serfs to converse with her as if
they were equals, yet her tone with him was always so haughty and
superior that he didn't know if he believed it.
Perhaps she saved that harsh, cold
tongue for him alone. Well, lately, he'd been saving something for
her alone too.
"I thought you understood to wait
alone at the gate for me, as before," she snapped at
him.
"I was busy."
"Oh, then I'll go away
again."
He grabbed her arm at once to insure
she stayed. Her escort reached for his sword, but Helene quickly
shouted up at him to wait behind at the gate.
The young soldier looked vexed. "But,
my lady, I must—"
"I do not need you to stay with me.
Stay here with these soldiers and look after our horses. Perhaps
these men can show you some hospitality." She added wryly, "If they
have any."
Sal instructed his men to bring a mug
of ale for her escort and then, worried his brothers might come out
to the yard, he quickly steered her around behind the wall of the
blacksmith's forge.
"How dare you?" she exclaimed. "Unhand
me."
"Hush, woman. Keep your voice
down."
Her hood was dislodged by the speed as
he moved her out of the guards' sight, and when light from a nearby
rush torch caught in her hair Sal felt that now familiar pulse
thudding through him again. "You should not come out without your
wimple," he chastised her.
Her eyes widened. "I'll do as I
please."
How young she looked. Beautiful. He
raised a hand to touch her hair, but she stepped back, her shoulder
to the stone wall of the
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