Disputed Land 03 - Enchanted - Elizabeth Lowell by Elizabeth Lowell

Author:Elizabeth Lowell
Language: bg
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-08T11:23:12+00:00

19

Thunder leaped down from the peaks and through the glen in a deafening drumroll of sound. Behind the thunder came a seething quicksilver curtain of rain. The air was cold and fresh, infused with the myriad scents of woodland and meadow.

Just below the brow of the hill, in a place that commanded a sweeping view of fells, woodland, and glen, Simon had made camp in the ruins of a Roman fort. The fort itself had been built on the ruins of an even more ancient fortification. Though the ceiling of the long room was only half in place, that half provided shelter from the driving rain for Ariane. Warmth came from a bonfire burning wildly beneath an opening in the ceiling timbers.

Another fire winked and leaped on the opposite side of one of the fort's inner walls, where Simon's squire and the three men-at-arms had set up their own shelter. The highest flames of their fire were visible, for the interior wall had crumbled until it was barely waist-high. Rich scents of meat and vegetables simmering in a pot rose with the smoke into the watery twilight.

Men talked among themselves, sharing coarse jokes and rough laughter. Blanche's voice wove through the darker tones of the men like high, trilled btrdsong. Her laughter was breathless, sensual, as teasing as a lover's hand sliding up a thigh to stop just short of the goal... and then seizing the trophy with thorough care.

Simon had no doubt that Blanche was giving the men quite a chase. For all of Blanche's whining about lack of luxury on the trail, and the long hours of riding at the pace of a walking man, she had been very generous with her favors at the end of the day.

For that, Simon was grateful. If Blanche had simply teased the men, or lain with one and taunted the others, there would have been the kind of ugliness that Marie once had created among Dominic's warriors during the Holy Crusade. But apparently those kinds of vicious female games didn't please Blanche. Having a warm man between her legs did.

Her girlish laughter pealed through the twilight, followed by masculine shouts as she flipped an ancient brass coin and they called out their choice.

"Heads!"

"Heads!"

"Heads!"

The coin gleamed and turned almost lazily above the wall, reflecting the nearby flames. Blanche's pale, dirty fingers flashed as she snagged the coin out of the air. Invisible behind the wall, she smacked the coin against her bare thigh.

"Heads it is, lads," Blanche said.

A round of groans went up. Now the men would have to wait to discover who would have the first turn with Blanche.

"Oh, blind me," she said, laughing. "Come on. Come on. 'Tis room for all. Oh! Mind you warm your hands first, you cold bastard!"

Hiding his smile, Simon turned back to the fire. Blanche might be as loose as a hound's lips, but she wasn't a girl to cause trouble among the men.

He only hoped that Ariane didn't understand the meaning of the grunts, giggles, and skirmishes that were going on barely four yards away.

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