Deathstroke by Louisa Trent

Author:Louisa Trent
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: medieval romance, Historical romance
Publisher: Trent Publications
Published: 2022-04-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

She examined her feet. “Nay, my lord, I was not off to the bushes.”

“Where were you going?” Lord Farrow asked, and took her bare breast in his big hand.

“I had no destination in mind. Only away from here. You see – our handfasting became too much. Your lust became too much. I needed to escape. At least for a time,” she lied, making up the tale as she went along.

To lend credence to her tale, she jerked her shoulders up and down, as if she were sorely agitated, then added some pretend sobs, now that the real ones had dried. In the process, she accidently dislodged the breast he fondled.

Now she truly was fit to cry.

Her suffering lasted only an instant. He recaptured her escaped flesh as he had recaptured her and thumbed her tightening nipple. “You lust after my lust, Mileth.”

Aye, she did lust after his lust. But a wild snorting boar would not pull that confession from her throat.

“Now tell me,” he asked soulfully, “how would you have gotten away?”

“On foot, my lord.”

“I would have caught up with you in no time. You have long legs, but mine are longer. And I know this region like the back of my hand.”

“I would have taken your steed, my lord,” she gasped.

He was pinching her nipple now and the turgid tip ached. And she hungered for more of the same hurt.

In her agitation, she pressed her legs together. A horrible pressure was building inside her passage and she had to make it stop!

“You said you were sore. Are you sore, Mileth?”

“Nay, my lord.”

“Then, on your back in the bed.”

She toppled amidst the furs, and he separated her thighs, then raised a knee to her chin.

“So, you would add thievery to your crimes against me,” he said quietly, whilst ringing the ankle of her raised foot with his fingers and pulling outward.

She was now wide open to him, her body, if not her mind. “I was not intending to be caught, my lord. I would have ridden whence I came. You never would have found me. And naturally, I would have released the steed to return to you. See? No thievery. Only a fleeing betrothed bride who needed to be alone to think.”

“Had you loved me as you said you did, you would not have left me. This leads me to believe you lied about your abiding love for me. Not only about that, but about all the rest. Your memory never deserted you at the stream, did it, Mileth?”

“I shall say anything you like, my lord, admit to anything you wish, just pray, continue what you are doing.”

‘Twas obscene, but she could not stop wanting him…even as he unsheathed a hidden dagger from his boot.

“Go ahead, my lord. Do it. Get it over with,” she blathered and held perfectly still for the kill.

The dagger shone like fire itself in the light of the hearth’s red flames, the embossed leather hilt beautiful to behold. Skill as well as an eye for uniqueness had gone into the leather’s raised design.

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