He was teasing her and Nicola burst out laughing. “I do not believe that for one moment,” she declared, but was interrupted by Tab, over at the smithy stall, calling for her. She waved to her son and faced Kenton once more. “Will you please help him select a weapon? I would be most honored if you would help guide my son in these matters for I know nothing of them.”
Kenton’s lips twitched with a smile. Of course he could not refuse her. As he opened his mouth to respond, Wellesbourne abruptly appeared at his side.
“Trouble, Kenton,” he said, his young face grim. “There is an entire column of Edward’s supporters heading in from the south. We spotted them at the southern edge of the market. We must depart quickly to avoid being seen.”
Kenton’s head snapped around, looking to the southern portion of the market as he strained to see what Wellesbourne was talking about.
“Only fools would wear standards into a town and risk running into men who might be your enemy,” he grumbled. “Did you see colors?”
Wellesbourne was looking in the same direction that Kenton was. “Three stags against a field of blue,” he said seriously.
Kenton looked at him. “Derby,” he said with some disgust and confusion. “What on earth would the man be doing here this far north?”
Wellesbourne cocked an eyebrow. “He could be part of the contingent that left us yesterday,” he said. “I would wager to say that the army that kept us bottled up for the past week is still in this area. They will need to recover and restore their supplies much as we have had to do.”
Kenton knew that. He also knew that if those men realized another group of armed soldiers had purchased all of the supplies, there might be trouble. They would very well have to defend their food stores. He pointed in the direction of the wagon.
“Get the men moving, Matt,” he said. “We will catch up.”
Wellesbourne went on the run, back to the provisions wagon and the majority of the men-at-arms. They were still loading up the dried beans and peas and at Wellesbourne’s prompting, began loading at a furious pace. In fact, the wagon began moving even as they were still loading, but they managed to get everything onto the wagon with little spillage. As the wagon took off down the road, heading north towards the road that would take them back to Babylon, Kenton rushed to Tab’s side. When the boy realized that he was being taken away from the swords again, he balked.
“But can’t I have one?” he pleaded as Kenton grabbed him by the shoulder. “Can I have this one?”
He made a grab for the nearest sword and held it up, nearly poking Kenton in the face with it. Kenton, swayed by the look of desperation in the young man’s eyes, spoke quickly to the smithy.
“How much for this one?” he asked, looking over his shoulder to see if any of Derby’s men were in sight. “But bewarned that I will only give you two silver marks and nothing more, so take it or leave it.”
The smithy extended his hand. “Sold, my lord,” he said. “It will make a fine weapon for the boy.”
Quickly, Kenton dug into his purse and pulled forth two silver marks, elaborately etched coins, and put them into the man’s hand. And with that, Tab had his very first weapon. The child was so gleeful that he was practically walking on air.
But there was no time to waste with celebration or joy. Kenton pulled Nicola and Tab along with him, rushing back to the spot where the wagon used to be. Two men-at-arms were waiting for them, holding the horses, and Kenton quickly seated Tab followed by Nicola, who was fairly deft and mounting her own horse. Kenton leapt onto his own steed, a charcoal-gray brute from Belgium, and the five of them took off at a fairly clipped pace through the town.
Outside of Manchester, they caught up with the provisions wagon and the rest of the men, making their way in haste back to the welcoming walls of Babylon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
One week later
She had hairas black as a raven’s wing, which was appropriate considering her name was Raven. Young, with a sweet and round body, and firm flesh, Wellesbourne knew he wasn’t the first man who had bedded her. In fact, she knew far too much about the pleasures of the flesh to be as virginal as she pretended.
Matthew had kept her in his bed all night, physically feasting on all she had to offer. She knew too much about how to make a man squirm; when he was embedded in her body, she would tighten her slick walls around him and fondle his testicles, which only made him mad with lust. Then she would push him over on his back and ride him as one would ride a wild animal and Matthew would spend his time with his hands on her breasts as she plunged her body down on him over and over again. Her climaxes were loud and often, which only fueled his passion. He liked to feel her releases around him. It made him feel virile and masculine.
He woke up on this bright but cold morning to Raven’s mouth on his manhood, her heated lips and wicked tongue working him up into a stiffness that would only be sated when he spilled himself into her mouth, but the odd thing was that it felt very much as if there were two mouths upon him and when he lifted the coverlet, he could see Raven and another woman, her pale sister he thought, working him into a frenzy.
Two women.Wellesbourne rather liked that and he lay back and permitted the women to pleasure him until he could stand it no more. He grabbed Raven by the hair because she was the closest to him, pushed her over onto her belly and mounted her from behind as the other woman latched onto his mouth and kissed him furiously as he thrust into Raven. He fondled the pale woman’s breasts as he kissed her, repeatedly impaling Raven on his big, hard manhood, and he enjoyed every minute of it.
It had been a long time since he’d had double the pleasure like this, even if the pale girl wasn’t the beauty her sister was. Still, she had some skill. He managed to pull out of Raven’s tight body before releasing himself, sending ribbons of pearl-colored liquid onto Raven’s smooth back. Then, and only then, did the other woman stop kissing him as she climbed off the bed and used the end of the coverlet to wipe off Raven’s back. Then, she climbed back into bed with Raven and the two began giggling.
Exhausted from a night of sexual activity that had both drained and rejuvenated him, Matthew went to the basin in his chamber and splashed cold water on his face. He had duties to attend to even though he wanted to crawl back into bed with the two giggling women. Wellesbourne was the best of the best, a serious knight with great training and wisdom and skill, but he was also oversexed. It tended to be the butt of jokes from those who knew him well.
Matthew loved women, loved to bed them, and was sweet and kind to those he managed to deflower. But there was nosense of marriage or of having a lasting relationship in his mind or heart; he was too young for either. Therefore, he bedded every woman who caught his fancy and left a string of heartbroken from Dover to Newcastle. Tales of Matthew Wellesbourne’s sexual exploits were almost as legendary as his knightly reputation.
A knock on the door distracted him from flirting with the two women in his bed. Rolling his eyes with frustration at the interruption, he went to the door, completely nude, and put his hand on the latch.
“Who goes there?” he demanded.
A deeply frightening voice answered. “If you do not open the door, you will find out in the most painful way possible.”
