unlatch, and mew in contentment.
Before she could move to cover herself, Gavin swept in and lifted the infant to his shoulder. Sara's puckered nipple showed wet and pink against the cool night air.
Shaking she lifted her gown back over her shoulder and looked away from Gavin's hungry gaze. “She needs burped,” she whispered, blushing.
“I ken what she needs,” Gavin whispered back, patting the infant tenderly against his shoulder. Elizabeth mewed again and rubbed her head demandingly against Gavin's tunic.
Chuckling, he nodded in Sara's direction. “Pull down the other shoulder of yer gown, Sara. My daughter demands her second course.”
Sara's chin tilted up, and her face flamed. She lifted her arms to take Elizabeth, and Gavin grinned ruthlessly. “I'll have ye remember who is lord of this keep,” he rumbled. Nodding his head toward her gown, he waited.
Elizabeth's cries grew more insistent, and milk began to drip from Sara's left breast, leaving a tell-tale stain upon the expensive fabric. Seeing the resolve in Gavin's gaze, Sara slowly lowered the left shoulder of her gown, exposing the round, eager breast to his greedy gaze.
“Now was that so difficult, Sara?” he crooned, as he lowered Elizabeth into her arms, purposefully grazing the top curve of her breast with his knuckle.
She did not honor his gloat with a response, instead, preferring to gaze at her cherubic daughter.
How odd it was to be married and have children with a complete stranger!
Gavin seemed to be enjoying his power over her; something shamefully carnal pooled within Sara, at his bold ownership of her person. Long after she had lain Elizabeth in her bassinet and snuggled deep beneath the bed covers, unspeakable parts of Sara's anatomy hummed in response to the heat in Gavin's gaze.
~
A bloated fly buzzed through the wooden slats of the mobile pig polk. The make-shift cage swayed along the rutted trail to Lakeshore Manor. Resting lightly upon the mottled cheek of Sir John, the gluttonous fly rubbed his two front legs together in anticipation. If Sir David did not know better, he would have sworn the wee beastie had read the sign attached and was gloating at their humiliation.
“Property of Lord Polk,” it read, with an image of a hand crossed out to indicate to the local illiterate masses that the contents within the slatted cage were dangerous and not to be touched. He'd heard Sir Gavin's soldiers laughing about it over their warm fire last night. Yesterday, Sir David had spied a young imp peering through the slats at an angle necessary to see within but he was soon run off by the attending soldiers.
It was damn humiliating, being bested by a woman and some lowly serfs. Why, a man with his experience on the battle field should be able to have at least faced his enemy with sword and strength, rather than being outwitted by his lessors. He outranked every man woman and child within that keep, and yet, he had left it in a pig pen, drugged and disarmed.
If he were to arrive at his father's gates, his older brothers in tow like this, Sir David was certain that his father would have them all thrown out in disgrace. Twas a privilege a man with six sons could afford. And without a name to attach his limited experience to, he was unlikely to be hired as anything but a mercenary, any time soon. Truth be told, he had never been the least interested in helping his wayward brother gain such a choice piece of property and title. The fool would lose it through incompetence soon enough.
At only seventeen, Sir David was also not so ignorant as to raise his hopes to such a lofty position for himself. Yet, he was the son of a baron, a newly knighted soldier, and well-versed at the ways of the gentry. He, at least, could eek out enough of a living for himself, to establish himself at the head of another Lord's troops. He could make a living and earn a life for himself that no one in his family ever expected. He could make his father proud enough
Before she could move to cover herself, Gavin swept in and lifted the infant to his shoulder. Sara's puckered nipple showed wet and pink against the cool night air.
Shaking she lifted her gown back over her shoulder and looked away from Gavin's hungry gaze. “She needs burped,” she whispered, blushing.
“I ken what she needs,” Gavin whispered back, patting the infant tenderly against his shoulder. Elizabeth mewed again and rubbed her head demandingly against Gavin's tunic.
Chuckling, he nodded in Sara's direction. “Pull down the other shoulder of yer gown, Sara. My daughter demands her second course.”
Sara's chin tilted up, and her face flamed. She lifted her arms to take Elizabeth, and Gavin grinned ruthlessly. “I'll have ye remember who is lord of this keep,” he rumbled. Nodding his head toward her gown, he waited.
Elizabeth's cries grew more insistent, and milk began to drip from Sara's left breast, leaving a tell-tale stain upon the expensive fabric. Seeing the resolve in Gavin's gaze, Sara slowly lowered the left shoulder of her gown, exposing the round, eager breast to his greedy gaze.
“Now was that so difficult, Sara?” he crooned, as he lowered Elizabeth into her arms, purposefully grazing the top curve of her breast with his knuckle.
She did not honor his gloat with a response, instead, preferring to gaze at her cherubic daughter.
How odd it was to be married and have children with a complete stranger!
Gavin seemed to be enjoying his power over her; something shamefully carnal pooled within Sara, at his bold ownership of her person. Long after she had lain Elizabeth in her bassinet and snuggled deep beneath the bed covers, unspeakable parts of Sara's anatomy hummed in response to the heat in Gavin's gaze.
~
A bloated fly buzzed through the wooden slats of the mobile pig polk. The make-shift cage swayed along the rutted trail to Lakeshore Manor. Resting lightly upon the mottled cheek of Sir John, the gluttonous fly rubbed his two front legs together in anticipation. If Sir David did not know better, he would have sworn the wee beastie had read the sign attached and was gloating at their humiliation.
“Property of Lord Polk,” it read, with an image of a hand crossed out to indicate to the local illiterate masses that the contents within the slatted cage were dangerous and not to be touched. He'd heard Sir Gavin's soldiers laughing about it over their warm fire last night. Yesterday, Sir David had spied a young imp peering through the slats at an angle necessary to see within but he was soon run off by the attending soldiers.
It was damn humiliating, being bested by a woman and some lowly serfs. Why, a man with his experience on the battle field should be able to have at least faced his enemy with sword and strength, rather than being outwitted by his lessors. He outranked every man woman and child within that keep, and yet, he had left it in a pig pen, drugged and disarmed.
If he were to arrive at his father's gates, his older brothers in tow like this, Sir David was certain that his father would have them all thrown out in disgrace. Twas a privilege a man with six sons could afford. And without a name to attach his limited experience to, he was unlikely to be hired as anything but a mercenary, any time soon. Truth be told, he had never been the least interested in helping his wayward brother gain such a choice piece of property and title. The fool would lose it through incompetence soon enough.
At only seventeen, Sir David was also not so ignorant as to raise his hopes to such a lofty position for himself. Yet, he was the son of a baron, a newly knighted soldier, and well-versed at the ways of the gentry. He, at least, could eek out enough of a living for himself, to establish himself at the head of another Lord's troops. He could make a living and earn a life for himself that no one in his family ever expected. He could make his father proud enough
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