That bastard must be smirking behind his stag mask, but what was he playing at? Edmund was about to request a private audience with the other Bucks when Ann spoke up.
“I’ll have you know,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll have you know I want my husband very much indeed.”
Edmund stifled a groan, more blood rushing to his cock. She was going to unman him without so much as a stroke if she said things like that. The feel of her cunny under his fingers was nothing compared to the shocking news that she wanted him. But did she say these things out of some misguided loyalty, so he could save face before the other Bucks?
“There was a time when he was too much man for me to handle, yes. I was but a girl when we married.”
Edmund’s fingers plucked at the skin on Ann’s belly, silently begging her to stop. He couldn’t hear this confession now, not in this place, while another man was inside of her.
And of course she continued. “But as I sat in that Shropshire estate and waited for my husband to return, I found books.”
Edmund stilled. She couldn’t mean…
“His brother’s books. Works of pornography and eroticism that filled my dreams. And when I slept, there was no man covering me but my husband.”
He jolted, the revelation hitting like a bullet. Ann desired him? Didn’t fear him, but actually wanted him?
“I want him to be the one between my legs, giving me a baby,” she said, her voice wavering. “But since he can’t, you’ll do.”
Edmund stood from his chair, not thinking that he had Ann in his arms, and Thorncock within her. His brother Buck’s cock had slipped out as Edmund lifted Ann with him from the chair. He felt awkward as they stood back to front before his three assembled brothers.
“Is it true?” asked Edmund, lowly, for Ann’s ears alone. It was possible that she said these things to defend him but didn’t actually want her big, old husband to take her.
And take her he would, he thought, his cock erect and pinned against his wife’s body. He needed to get her home and fill her. But only if she truly wanted him.
“I want my arms full, Edmund,” she said just as softly in response. “With our baby. And with you.”
Edmund walked to the place where a tapestry hung to guard against the musicians seeing the Bucks’ activities. With silent apologies to the sensibilities of the artists, his brother Bucks, and the Forest staff, he yanked it down, wrapped Ann in it, and carried her off.
***
Across the room, Stagshade threw his arm about Thorncock’s shoulders as they made their way back to the lounge.
“It seems we’re not needed,” Stagshade said, chuckling at the memory of how the stoic Rutlord had utterly lost his headforhis wife. They’d seen it happen before, but witnessing an experienced man — one of their own — fall so publicly was unexpected.
“Shall we pay a call to Amanda’s nunnery?” Thorncock asked.
None of them had unloaded tonight, and seed going unexpressed might cause an imbalance in their humors. For the sake of their health, they should probably see to the needs of their cocks as soon as possible. Or so the founders of the Grand Bucks order believed over a century ago.
“I should depart for the coast immediately,” said Thorncock, genuine regret in his voice. “My old tutor’s daughter is coming to Town, and I gave him my undying promise to help see her happily settled.”
“I hope he didn't mean for you to marry her!” exclaimed Stagshade with a hoot; he struggled to imagine his lusty friend settled. “What was this man thinking, entrusting his daughter to you, of all people?”
“I can only imagine that he believed my title would aid her entry to society. She’s been living these years in the Colonies, you see,” said Thorncock.
“A Yank. A tutor’s daughter. Moving among theton?”
“Ahh, but there’s a twist. She was born here. And she’s an heiress, something on her mother’s side.”
Both men grunted, seeing her path in society cleared neatly thanks to that detail. Plenty of aristocrats needed rich, otherwise unsuitable brides to keep their estates solvent.
“So, you see, she’ll have far better prospects than me. Her presence in London need not trouble me at all.”
***
With his cock in hand, Frederick Clare, Duke of FitzOsbern — known in the Forest as the High Buckthorn — stared at the shocked faces of the musicians once hidden behind the tapestry. The violinist was tripping over himself to depart, but Frederick was arrested at the sight of the person seated before a great harp. The person who had been playing the notes that had so haunted him these few months.
He only saw a lovely face with intelligent eyes; her hair was pinned back, and her gown was simple. Eyes that widened at the sight of his naked form and frankly terrifying stag mask.
