aroused.
She wriggled a hand down and cupped the fullness of his cock, stiff and ready under his night shirt, no codpiece to rein it in. He drew his breath in sharply, and his cock twitched under her hand. Her fingers stroked the swollen head, then played along his impressive length; she was suddenly hot and wet again, imagining how it would feel to take this man inside her. But when she looked into his eyes, seeing the lust there, feeling it hanging in the air between them, thick and heavy, he shook his head.
She drew back, staring, to see his mouth jerk in a strained smile.
‘No doubt I will think myself a fool in the morning. But I wish to enjoy you at my leisure, Margerie, both of us naked and between clean sheets. Not take you standing up in a garden in our nightclothes.’
He kissed her mouth lightly, but she could sense the doctor drawing back already, his tone cooling. ‘And now that oaf has finished his sport, mistress, I must escort you back to your quarters.’
Unsteady, her body still trembling with the pleasure he had given her, she drew the cloak about herself as they stepped out into the moonlight. The guards on the door had either gone or fallen silent. It was suddenly colder than before, and the dew was wet on her bare feet.
A glint of silver on his finger caught her eye. Her heart froze, barely pumping, and she stopped dead.
‘Are you . . .’ Margerie could barely speak; she licked her lips, forced out the cruel words. ‘Are you married, Master Elton?’
He glanced down at the ring, and his eyes widened, as though shocked by her question, almost as though he had forgotten the ring was there. For a moment there was silence between them. Then he looked back at her, and a hardness came into his face.
‘I am betrothed to a lady who does not currently reside at court. We shall be married next year.’ His cool tone gave her no permission to question him further. ‘I know a better way back inside than past the guards. Shall we go?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Something to improve a man’s performance, you say?’ The merchant did not bother to hide his grin, which only faded when he saw Virgil’s expression. He rubbed at his beard, then ran an experienced eye over the heaps of sacks and unopened crates in his dockside warehouse. The ship had only arrived in dock two days before and it seemed not everything had been examined and labelled. ‘We have fresh basil leaves, rocket, garlic, oil of almonds . . . Oh, and asparagus. My father swears by a goodly bunch of thick asparagus.’
‘And I wish him well with it, but I have used most of those common aphrodisiacs before, and the results were not spectacular,’ Virgil explained patiently. ‘Master Ferney, I’m looking for more exotic herbs and spices, those to be found only in the furthest corners of our globe. Not plants I might come across growing wild by the river here.’
‘How about the powdered horn of a rhinoceros, then? That is very exotic.’
Virgil raised his brows in disdain.
‘Common aniseed, then. Mixed with garlic oil and mustard seed in a pestle. Very hot and moist, a sanguine mixture that will swiftly cause a man’s seed to rise from the testicles.’ The merchant looked at him speculatively. ‘I once tried it myself, sir, and the results were impressive. Though it is not . . . not so pleasant on the tongue.’
‘I shall bear that in mind. What else do you have?’
‘Very well, let me check the new inventory, see what came in on that last shipment. If you would care to wait, Master Elton, it should not take more than a few minutes.’
The merchant bowed and made himself scarce. There was probably a cosy back room where he liked to sit, sipping ale and waiting for awkward customers like Virgil Elton to tire of their mission.
Virgil wandered out of the warehouse into the bright sunshine and stood looking down towards the arches of London Bridge, its ambitious span crammed with ancient houses jutting over the water below. The
She wriggled a hand down and cupped the fullness of his cock, stiff and ready under his night shirt, no codpiece to rein it in. He drew his breath in sharply, and his cock twitched under her hand. Her fingers stroked the swollen head, then played along his impressive length; she was suddenly hot and wet again, imagining how it would feel to take this man inside her. But when she looked into his eyes, seeing the lust there, feeling it hanging in the air between them, thick and heavy, he shook his head.
She drew back, staring, to see his mouth jerk in a strained smile.
‘No doubt I will think myself a fool in the morning. But I wish to enjoy you at my leisure, Margerie, both of us naked and between clean sheets. Not take you standing up in a garden in our nightclothes.’
He kissed her mouth lightly, but she could sense the doctor drawing back already, his tone cooling. ‘And now that oaf has finished his sport, mistress, I must escort you back to your quarters.’
Unsteady, her body still trembling with the pleasure he had given her, she drew the cloak about herself as they stepped out into the moonlight. The guards on the door had either gone or fallen silent. It was suddenly colder than before, and the dew was wet on her bare feet.
A glint of silver on his finger caught her eye. Her heart froze, barely pumping, and she stopped dead.
‘Are you . . .’ Margerie could barely speak; she licked her lips, forced out the cruel words. ‘Are you married, Master Elton?’
He glanced down at the ring, and his eyes widened, as though shocked by her question, almost as though he had forgotten the ring was there. For a moment there was silence between them. Then he looked back at her, and a hardness came into his face.
‘I am betrothed to a lady who does not currently reside at court. We shall be married next year.’ His cool tone gave her no permission to question him further. ‘I know a better way back inside than past the guards. Shall we go?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Something to improve a man’s performance, you say?’ The merchant did not bother to hide his grin, which only faded when he saw Virgil’s expression. He rubbed at his beard, then ran an experienced eye over the heaps of sacks and unopened crates in his dockside warehouse. The ship had only arrived in dock two days before and it seemed not everything had been examined and labelled. ‘We have fresh basil leaves, rocket, garlic, oil of almonds . . . Oh, and asparagus. My father swears by a goodly bunch of thick asparagus.’
‘And I wish him well with it, but I have used most of those common aphrodisiacs before, and the results were not spectacular,’ Virgil explained patiently. ‘Master Ferney, I’m looking for more exotic herbs and spices, those to be found only in the furthest corners of our globe. Not plants I might come across growing wild by the river here.’
‘How about the powdered horn of a rhinoceros, then? That is very exotic.’
Virgil raised his brows in disdain.
‘Common aniseed, then. Mixed with garlic oil and mustard seed in a pestle. Very hot and moist, a sanguine mixture that will swiftly cause a man’s seed to rise from the testicles.’ The merchant looked at him speculatively. ‘I once tried it myself, sir, and the results were impressive. Though it is not . . . not so pleasant on the tongue.’
‘I shall bear that in mind. What else do you have?’
‘Very well, let me check the new inventory, see what came in on that last shipment. If you would care to wait, Master Elton, it should not take more than a few minutes.’
The merchant bowed and made himself scarce. There was probably a cosy back room where he liked to sit, sipping ale and waiting for awkward customers like Virgil Elton to tire of their mission.
Virgil wandered out of the warehouse into the bright sunshine and stood looking down towards the arches of London Bridge, its ambitious span crammed with ancient houses jutting over the water below. The
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