Page 7 of Lord of Misrule

Tolin groaned inwardly when he felt his loins tightening. She was good at this game and he enjoyed the challenge. Aye, he’d like to find out if she was any good in bed, that thought had crossed his mind. Plus, the woman said she’d do anything if he let the boy go. He’d bet anything that she had stamina that could give him pleasure for hours in lovemaking. But as much as he entertained the thought, he knew she wasn’t really talking about coupling. After all, a woman like her would never do so in front of her young son. Instead of answering her question, he asked her another, just like she had done to him. “Would you like me to find out? Perhaps you could...show me?” He played with her, throwing words back at her that had double meanings. Games were Tolin’s specialty. Games with pretty women were his favorite. This particular one was proving to be more pleasurable than he’d expected. He didn’t want it to end.

“I’d like that, my lord,” she answered, causing his jaw to drop. The mouths of the steward and guard hung open as well. Brother Ruford’s prayers got a little louder. Damn it, he couldn’t stop thinking of what this game could really mean, although both of them knew it was nothing of the kind.

“Y-you would?” he asked, coughing, and really needing a drink right now. His mouth felt dry and it was getting hard to swallow.

“Yes.” Her eyes lit up and a devilish smile spread across her face. She had to know how her words affected him. Tolin only hoped no one else noticed. He quickly dropped his arms, hoping to hide his loins. “I desire to let you taste my talents,” she continued, only making things worse with the way she stressed certain sensual words. “With your permission, of course, my lord.” Her hand slowly traveled up her hip and his gaze followed. Her fingers settled on the bag she carried over her shoulder.

“My lord,” the steward whispered in warning, his thoughts probably being on bedding the girl too. “Please, don’t answer that. It’s not proper.”

Tolin’s hand shot up in the air to hush the steward once again. All the while, his eyes stayed focused on the vixen standing before him, offering to give him everything his heart desired and so much more. “Yes,” he blurted out, triggering off hushed whispers from the crowd. The guard and steward both took a step backward. Brother Ruford held on to the trestle table, slowly lowering himself to the bench. “Yes, I’d like to taste your talents.” He purposely moved closer to the girl, bringing his face near hers, teasing her but at the same time only torturing himself. He truly did want to taste those plump lips as well as her tongue. She raised her chin and looked him right in the eye, which was a brash move for a commoner. Still, it made him feel desire stir within him. Mayhap she was going to kiss him. Nothing would surprise him when it came to this woman.

Leaning in even closer, she spoke and all his attention was on her mouth although he didn’t hear a word she was saying. He dipped his head down, moving in to taste her sweet lips, his focus on nothing but kissing the wench. If he hadn’t been so smitten with her, he would have realized she was making a fool of him in front of everyone. Aye, this woman was better at this game than he. And Tolin didn’t like losing.

“Here,” she said, raising a hand-sized fruit tart between them. His lips ended up on the pie instead of on her mouth. He pulled back in surprise, ready to chastise her. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he tasted something delicious. Tolin’s tongue darted out to lick the sweet flavor from his lips, the action bringing him back to his senses.

“Mmmm,” he said, lifting his hand to his mouth. “Is that cherry I’m tasting?”

“Cherry-almond with fresh butter and a sprinkle of saffron. It’s my specialty.”

“Saffron?” gasped the steward. “That spice is expensive and reserved for nobles. What are you doing with it?”

“Baking with butter during Advent is prohibited,” added the monk.

“The baker’s guild has the pope’s permission to use butter, now that it is so close to Christmas,” the woman told them. “I get a lot of orders from nobles who are ordering baked goods for their upcoming celebrations.” Her eyes traveled back to Tolin and she held out the pie like a peace offering between them. “I like to please my clients as much as I possibly can.”

“Do you, now?” asked Tolin, reaching out for the hand tart. He wondered if she’d still say that if he ever managed to get her in his bed. He took a big bite of the tart and moaned aloud in exaltation. Everyone was supposed to fast during Advent, as instructed by the church. Butter, dairy, and even meat had been forbidden for the last four weeks and it was making everyone cranky. In some places even wine and ale was prohibited, but thankfully Tolin’s father had received special permission so they hadn’t had to give it up. The church was delusional, thinking that everyone was really going to adhere to these stupid rules. Especially the one of no coupling during Advent. Tolin wasn’t the kind of person who could live by rules such as this. Even if the orders supposedly came straight from God himself.

“I take it my talents please you, my lord?” The baker woman looked up at him with big, beautiful brown eyes.

He devoured the tart in several bites and licked the powdery sugar from his lips. It was heaven, and the best thing he’d tasted in a month now. Tolin proceeded to lick the cherry filling from his fingers next. “You have no idea how much I enjoy your talents.” His mind went astray again, but when the boy spoke, all lusty thoughts fled his head.

“My mother makes the best tarts as well as the most delicious bread you’ll ever taste,” said the boy. “Her Christmas stollen has ten different types of fruit in it.”

“Does it, now?” Tolin had an idea.

“Parker, don’t exaggerate,” said the boy’s mother. “It is only seven types of fruit in the stollen.”

“My lord, what is the boy’s punishment?” asked the guard once again.

“Patience,” said Tolin, not wanting to be pushed into handing out a sentence in such an awkward situation. Not yet. Mayhap, if he was smart, he could turn this incident around and make it beneficial to him after all. The girl might be good at this game, but he was better and had the final say. There was no way he’d lose, because he was used to winning. “What is your name?” he asked the woman.

“My name is Kit Baker, my lord.”

“Kit?” he repeated in question. “Named because you were small like a kitten when you were born?”

A slight grin turned up the corners of her mouth and a blush stained her cheeks. “Nay, my lord. My parents were Katherine and Christopher. My name is a combination of the two.”

“I see.” Tolin fingered his chin in thought. “Well, I have come up with the lad’s punishment,” he finally announced.

The girl watched with wide eyes in anticipation.

“Please, don’t send him to be locked away,” she said in a mere whisper, seeming to be holding her breath, waiting for his answer. Her arms closed tighter around her son. If he was going to take the boy, he was sure he’d have to pry the lad from her fingers.

“On the contrary, I am not sending him anywhere. I am going to keep him right here at the castle,” he told her.

“What?” Kit, as well as the steward and the guard, all said at once.

“Your son, as well as you, Kit Baker, will stay at Blake Castle through the holidays and that is my final decision.”