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Chapter Eight

T hat night, Sian dreamed Christopher was rescuing her from a churning river instead of Seren and Gwenllian.

After diving in to fish her out of the icy waters, he lifted her into his arms, carried her to the riverbank, and deposited her onto the mossy ground, where he proceeded to cover her in kisses.

His lips were cold, his tongue hot, and his breath smelled of that elusive spice.

Even in her dream, she could not place which one that might be.

She spent the whole day trying to shake the sensations created by his kisses, imaginary as they had been.

Instinct told her he would be just as skilled, taste just as good, feel just as hot in real life.

Because she knew Christopher was the man she wanted to marry, Sian had never taken any interest in anyone else, never tried to attract any suitor, never paid attention to the few boys who had tried to impress her.

It would have only been a waste of time because it would never have led anywhere.

As a consequence, she had never been kissed.

She had no way of knowing whether a real kiss would feel as wonderful as the ones she and Christopher had shared in her dream, but she had a strong suspicion it would.

That night, she went to bed hoping for more decadent moments in Christopher’s arms.

The following day, after a disappointing night spent dreaming of being chased by a giant hound with teeth made of iron, she climbed onto the north battlements.

An idea had suddenly struck her. Could she see Throckmorton Castle from the high vantage point?

As she peered into the distance, hoping for a glimpse of the whitewashed walls, women’s voices reached her from down below.

Sian leaned in and saw Maggie, the scullion, and one of the laundresses talking together while enjoying a spot of sunshine.

“Judging from the looks we’ve been exchanging, I think he knows I’m ripe for the taking,” Mildred, a small, buxom woman, said.

“Next time he comes, I’ll pretend to twist my ankle, step on a sharp nail, or anything else that ensures I fall to my knees in front of him.

Then, once I’m there, I’ll make sure he understands he can make the most of the opportunity whenever he wants. ”

“What do you mean?”

“Lord, Maggie, what do you think I mean? Don’t tell me you’ve never sucked a man’s cock?”

“I … No, of course not!” the scullion, who was only a young girl, exclaimed in shock. “Why would I want to do that?”

Mildred chuckled. “Heed my words, girl, for they will serve you well. Men, be they high- or lowborn, will agree to almost anything to get their cocks between a woman’s lips.

They love it even more than they like sticking it between a woman’s legs.

It is the one thing we women can use to get what we want.

And what I want is him. Once I’ve sucked him dry, I will tell him he can use me again but only if he fucks me first. I can tell you he’s not going to refuse the offer, and that way, I will get what I crave. ”

Sian’s mind was whirring. She had the awful impression she knew who they were talking about.

And unlike Maggie, she knew what the laundress was referring to even if, of course, she had never performed the act herself.

In truth, she was disgusted by Mildred’s advice, which reduced women to scheming whores and men to malleable fools.

Up until that moment, she had never considered taking a man into her mouth for any other reason than to give him—and herself—pleasure.

Inexperienced as she was, she was certain it could be a beautiful moment, nothing like the cold bargaining tool the laundress had described.

She would make sure to tell Maggie she should not heed her friend’s words.

It would be shocking, of course, but the girl needed to know that her body was not to be used by anyone, herself included, for any purpose other than to give and receive pleasure.

Sian and Jane were lucky enough to have been raised by women who had made love matches, and between them, their mother and aunt had kept them informed of what went on between men and women.

Of course, their advice had been nothing as crude as Mildred’s.

On the contrary, it had emphasized the connection two lovers could share.

While too many husbands were selfish and treated their wives as commodities, others, they had assured them, were generous and respectful in and out of bed.

Could Christopher be such a husband? A selfless and considerate lover as well as an ally in life? She didn’t doubt he would be passionate in his lovemaking, but would he be willing to bring her pleasure as well as take his own?

That decided her.

The next woman he would make love to would be none other than herself.

It would be the best way to find out what kind of lover he was—and let him know of her intentions with regard to having a future together.

Making love to him would also have the added advantage of putting an end to the torturous desire she felt for him.

Leaving the two women to their conversation, Sian started to descend the wooden ladder. As soon as she touched the ground, she went to the stables and surprised the grooms by saddling Angel herself and thundering out of the gate.

Her patience had finally come to an end; she had to see Christopher without delay.

She found him in the lists with a man she assumed to be his squire.

The two of them were exercising their horses, putting the animals through their paces.

The young man was riding an enormous black destrier that almost made Warrior appear fragile.

He seemed just as skilled in the saddle as his master, and for a moment, she watched them, enjoying the display of strength and agility.

Then Christopher asked Warrior to rear up.

Though she could see he was in complete control of the maneuver, Sian could not help but gasp.

Such power … The woman in her quivered. As he patted his mount, he spotted her.

Wiping his brow, he trotted over to her, leaving his companion to make his way back to the barbican.

“Lady Sian. Good morning.”

He seemed surprised to see her, and no wonder. It was the first time she had come to Throckmorton for no discernible reason.

“Good morning. Who was that enormous beast?”

Christopher barked a laugh at the question. “That was Harry, my new squire. And he will be gratified to hear you think him enormous. He’s forever complaining he has not yet grown into a man.”

She stared. Indeed, the young squire was as slender as a damsel, if evidently stronger. “I … I meant the black horse, and you know it!”

His eyes twinkled. “This is where you’re wrong. I never know what you’re going to say next, my lady, which is why I like talking to you. It is not everyone who shares your talent for the unpredictable. And the horse’s name is Lucifer.”

“Good choice. Did you say Harry is your new squire?”

“Yes. The previous one disappeared after I had words with him about the maintenance of my saddle billets. Mind you, I don’t bemoan the loss. The man had been sent from Kent by my uncle as a favor to his friend, but he was useless.”

More than useless if he had allowed his master to take such a tumble. Sian shivered. Indeed, Christopher was well rid of the man.

“Now. What brings you here, Little Lamb?”

“Nothing, only Mildred, one of Sheridan Manor’s laundresses, overheard me asking for Angel to be saddled.

She asked if, by any chance, I intended to ride past Throckmorton, seeing as she had a message to deliver to you.

It was just as easy for me to come here as go the other way to the coast, so I agreed.

” Sian was careful to make it appear as if the favor had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, as, of course, a laundress would never use a noblewoman to deliver her personal messages.

“But now I’m wondering if the message was intended for you, after all.

Perhaps I misunderstood and she actually meant your squire,” she added as inspiration struck.

“It would make more sense because … Well. Yes. It would make more sense.”

Christopher smiled, as if enjoying her feigned confusion. Perhaps being seen as clumsy and unconventional had its advantages. People didn’t suspect you of deliberate scheming. “What did she say?”

“She wanted you—or Harry, now I’m not sure—to go meet her in the meadow tonight after dusk. You know the one, in the river bend, with the oak in the middle?”

Where only the other day, he had licked her fingers until she’d thought she would pass out.

“Aye, I know the one.” Christopher’s eyes glittered. Was he remembering the moment or getting aroused at the idea of a woman waiting for him? “Thank you. I will talk to Harry, and between us, we’ll see what this is about. Tell Mildred someone will definitely meet her tonight.”

Sian nodded. The die had been cast. She had no doubt the man who would go to the meadow would be Christopher himself.

If, like the laundress had said, he really knew she was “ripe for the taking,” he would not miss the opportunity for a tumble with a willing woman.

Well, if she had her say, it would be the last time he answered such an assignation.

Soon they would be married and the only woman who enjoyed his touch would be her.

He wouldn’t need to go to other women to repair the hurt his family had caused him.

It would be her pleasure and privilege to do that.

“Now. Shall I race you back home?” Christopher offered. “After all his hard work, Warrior has earned a good gallop.”

“You can try. But only if you’re prepared to lose.”