Peregrine's Prize (9 page)

"Ah, if you are sure?
Dammit, Maggie, it
all seemed so right, so familiar and so us, and then you winced and I wasn't
convinced if I hadn't done you a disservice and assaulted you."

"Believe me, my lord, if I hadn't wanted that
attention you'd have known soon enough. I loved it, the sting is something to
treasure, the aftermath even more so, and the bites are a reminder of what we
can do for each other."

He traced her nipples one after another and nipped
each nub just the pleasure side of pain. "And you do all that for me as well?"

She nodded. "When you say so."

He bent his head and addressed her nipples with his
teeth. "And this?" She hissed as he bit down on the tender nubs. He
knew just how far to go. "Yeess, and that."

Perry lifted his head. "Good. So you will do
anything I say? Within reason?"

"Within reason," Maggie agreed. Having
come this far she decided perhaps it would be prudent to spell a few important
details out. "We chose words, which if used meant whatever we were doing
needed to stop forthwith. A safely net if you like."

He considered that as he continued to nip and soothe
her nipples. "Do we use these words often?"

Maggie shook her head. "Never as yet and there
is only one. The word is Boney. You said that epithet was enough to stop anyone
in their tracks."

 
His shout of
laughter made her giggle. The mention of the Corsican was a swear word to any full-blooded
Englishman.

"'Tis true," Perry said. "I abhor all
he does. He rubbed the lobe of her ear between the pads of two fingers. "Where
did you say your earrings are?"

"At h … h his house, our employers. I didn’t
like to have them here when we were away," Maggie improvised hastily. How
could she say they were safely locked away in Nash's strongbox?

"Hmm, so we've been away?" His eyes were cloudy
with pain, and bright with suspicion.

Maggie was at a loss how to answer him.

"Perry, my love, please stop fishing. I've
already told you more than the doctor advised. Please don’t ask me to divulge
anything else. Let's rest and at least see if your memory returns overnight."

He stared at her eyes until Maggie felt like
squirming. Why did she feel like a criminal? She was only trying to do her best
to keep them both safe. Finally, just as she gathered her courage, ready to
break down and tell him everything she knew he took a deep breath.

"If we can rest together, and be close, I can
agree to that. As much as I want to plunge into you, my body will not agree. My
head aches abominably, and I reluctantly agree I need to rest. With you, and
the bread knife to guard me?" He rolled his eyes and she saw the effort it
took for him to lighten the moment.

"Me you can have with pleasure." She dragged
the covers from under her and turned them back with a gesture of welcome. Nash
pulled his shirt over his head, crawled onto the bed next to Maggie, and rested
his head on her breast.

"Nice," he murmured. "And the
knife?"

"Ah well, that is still in the kitchen. Will my
sewing scissors do as well do you think?"

There was silence. Maggie stroked his hair.
"Perry?"

She was answered by a snore.

Maggie moved her hand and settled down next to
Perry. There was a lot to think about, but for now she was content to rest with
him, with his personal scent—of man and musk—teasing her nostrils and his arm
loosely across her body. She settled down and slept.

****

It set the tone for the next two days. Perry was all
compliance, so much so Maggie wondered if his injury was worse than he admitted
to. However, Perry reassured her that he ached, his head throbbed to a degree
it seemed damnable sore, but as long as she was nearby, he was content to rest.
That resting to him meant long slow sweet sex both reassured and worried Maggie.
In the past their sex might often be long, and frequently slow, because Perry loved
to tease and demand her compliance. Even though she thought it sweet that in
his attention to her he drew every exquisite sensation possible out of her, it
didn't resemble their previous lovemaking. To her anxious mind, it seemed at
times that he loved her as if he thought it might never happen again. Of course
as she couldn't say so, Maggie fretted alone.

Until during the third night at Monksseat she woke up
bound and blindfolded and realized Perry might not be aware, but he appeared
almost back to his old self.

"Do as I say Maggie. Do not come." She
felt the beautiful, sharp stinging sensation of wax dropping onto her shoulders
and across her chest. The tiny stabbing pains were so perfect, she bit her lips
and spread her legs to stop her climax from overwhelming her. The fact that she
entertained no idea where the next drop of wax would fall added to the
excitement, and Maggie panted, as Perry laughed softly.

"I knew this was for us."

Her body sang, and her senses were filled with him
and the sharp cloying scent of the wax. He lifted her blindfold, and Maggie
blinked before looking down at the heart shaped wax droplets across her,

"I love you Maggie, you complete me; without you
this would be impossible." Perry kissed her before she gathered her
scattered thoughts and formulated a reply. "Fly for me love."

He plunged his cock deep inside her and demanded she
began to move. Maggie wrapped her legs around his waist and met him thrust for
thrust. Her orgasm built so fast it escaped like a runaway horse with the bit
between its teeth and no intention of stopping.

"Now love, join me now."

Maggie needed no second bidding. As Perry's body
began to shudder and his cock grew harder, Maggie's channel contracted and she
tumbled over the edge.

Perry pulled out just as he shouted his completion,
and as ever spilled onto a towel.

One day, I'll hold him
in me again and see if we can make our child. One day.

Perry untied her and as ever got a cloth and water
to clean them both before gathering her into his arms. Maggie sighed, in
contentment, happy to hold him close and listen to his breathing as it slowed
and he nuzzled her neck.

"Maggie, I love you." Sated they both
drifted back to sleep.

Her last thought before sleep overtook her was the
problem of how long he'd be content to wait before he started to get antsy and
demand action.

****

The dawn chorus woke her and she stretched. Something
strange rumbled under her. Maggie brought her hand down and fumbled with the
covers. She spread her fingers and her hand met flesh. Warm, hair covered
flesh, and … she opened her eyes to see Perry slumbering peacefully beside her.
His hand tightened on her arse, and he muttered something in his sleep that
sounded suspiciously like 'mine'. She grinned to herself and moved slightly to
drop a butterfly kiss on his head. At some time during the night they'd
switched positions and now her head rested on his torso, and his nipple was so
close to her mouth. Maggie decided she was very noble as she forced herself to
ignore it and let Perry sleep on. As much as she'd love to wake him in the way
they both loved—and he often demanded—she deemed his sleep more important.

Taking more care than usual, she lifted his hand
from her rear, amazed at how bereft she felt when that contact disappeared, and
slid out of bed. He muttered again and rolled over to sprawl right across the
bed, buried his head into one pillow, and hugged the other. As Maggie donned
the now well-creased gown from the floor, she smiled. Perry looked boyish and
peaceful; the worries and cares of life smoothed out as he slumbered. If only
it could stay so, but she was under no illusions. Memory loss or not, Perry
would once more be a force to reckon with when he woke.

In the spirit of giving him as long as possible
before he resumed that state, Maggie tiptoed out of the room and crept down the
stairs, taking care to miss the treads she knew creaked when trodden on. As she
reached the hallway, and congratulated herself on her accomplishment, a scraping
sound made her look toward the front door. As it wasn't something they'd used
the day before, Maggie almost forgot about it. But now, the latch lifted and
the door opened. Her mouth went dry as with a creak the gap between jamb and
frame widened, and a boot shod leg could be seen.

Maggie looked around to see what—if anything—she
could use as a weapon. Dammit, in all the mystery stories she and Felicity devoured
there would be a handy sabre or suit of armor to use as a cudgel. All she had was
soft house shoes and a Benares vase on a high shelf. The vase would have to be
sacrificed. She stretched up to reach it down, and a familiar voice spoke.

"Not the vase, Maggie. Felicity is rather fond
of it."

She whirled round. "Nash? Oh thank the
lord." Maggie shamed herself by breaking into tears and running into his
arms. "I was so scared, he, they ... oh…"

"So that's what you two get up to when my back
is turned?" Felicity followed Nash in and with one look summed up the
situation, knowing fine well there was nothing other than familial love between
her husband and her cousin.
 
She added
her arms to his. "Oh Maggie love, sshh, it's all fine, we're here."

"Even though I'm incapacitated, I thought last
night showed you I was well able to attend to your every needs when I'm
handicapped thus," Perry said from near the top of the stairs. "However
I didn't realize this. You enjoy a threesome, Maggie? Why did you never tell
me?"

Chapter
Nine

Peregrine rolled over, with a morning erection to
vie anything he'd experienced in years, and an arousing memory of someone who
would be more than willing to attend to the problem. With a muttered 'morning
my Maggie', he stretched his arm to feel not a warm body, soft and rounded, but
a cool pillow, lumpy and long. It woke him out of his semi-comatose state and
deflated his ardor.

The chilly bedchamber did nothing to rectify that,
and Perry looked around for his breeches and shirt. They were half over the
clotheshorse and half on the floor. He climbed down from the bed—did it really
have to be so high? Although he mused as he put one leg and then the other into
his pantaloons and dragged them up over his thighs and cock, it looked about
right for him to bend Maggie over the bed end and fuck her from behind.

He made use of the facilities, and checked the size
of the bath. If there were an efficient way to heat the water, then he would
have Maggie in the bath and washing his back before nightfall.

And I her front, sides
and rear.
Before then though, he needed to eat, and try to wheedle some more facts out of
Maggie. Perry moved his head in a circular motion, pleased that his minor
headache grew no stronger. Perhaps he was over the worst? The purple and orange
bruise on his cheek and down his left side gave out a mere throb, not the hard
pulsing pain he experienced the day before, and he was able to almost ignore
them. If he really thought his name was Perry Cotton, then all would be right
with his world.

He whistled softly under his teeth as he left the
bedchamber and headed for the stair. Some ale and eggs would go a long way to assuaging
his hunger for food.

On the third tread down of the staircase, the
whistle changed to a hiss. In front of him, his wife was in a close embrace
with not only a man, but a woman. How dare she?

"Even though I'm indisposed, I thought last
night showed you I'm well able to attend to your every needs when I'm
incapacitated." To his annoyance he sounded wounded and hurt, not angry as
he should be. The sight made his head spin and flashing images bombarded him so
fast he couldn't decipher what was what. "However I didn't realize this.
You enjoy a threesome, Maggie? Why did you never tell me?"

The man looked up and tightened his hold on the
women.

"Well you always were prosy, Peregrine, but I
never thought you were an ass as well."

Peregrine? Who would
call me that? That
is
a prosy name.

 
Maggie
disengaged herself and walked to the bottom of the stairs. Her clear blue eyes
looked up at him, with exasperated emotion.

"Perry, now open your eyes properly and think.
Your brain may be addled, your memory patchy, but do we really look as if we were
about to have unbridled sex a la trois in the hallway, where the world could
see if they chose to look through the open door? Not only that, look at us.
Look
at us." She ran her hand over
her crumpled dress. I may look rumpled and untidy, but that my … that is down
to you. They however are dressed for riding. Horses, not me or each other."
She turned and glared at Nash who sniggered, and Perry could have sworn Nash muttered
"Hmm little you know," under his breath.

The third member of the hug-huddle shut the door and
walked across the hallway, her shoes clicking on the flags. Something about her
triggered a faint and dusty memory. She titled her head toward him and smiled.
Perry swayed and grasped the banister for support. Stars whirled in front of
his eyes, and a roaring noise filled his ears. Maggie's voice came at him
through a long cobwebby tunnel and he could only pick out the odd word. Her
face swam in and out of his vision, anxious and pale, as she raced up the stairs,
her dress in her hands and caught hold of his shoulder to steady him.