Chapter Thirteen #5
It smelled like rubbish up here, too, but at least it was quieter, and it was definitely more private.
From the smoky noise of the common room to the sudden quietness of the upper floors, Lyssa held tight to Garret’s hand as the two serving wenches took them to one of the very last rooms, a tiny room with a tiny bed and a tiny table with two stools.
There was a hearth, but it wasn’t lit, and one of the women kindled a blaze as the other laid out the meal.
Meanwhile, Garret and Lyssa stood in the doorway, watching all of the activity, until Garret became impatient and chased the women away.
He had no tolerance for lingering servants.
Gallantly bowing to Lyssa as he extended his hand into the chamber, she giggled as she entered.
He came in behind her, set the trunk down and closed the door quietly, bolting it. Lyssa turned to him.
“D-Did you really do this so I would not pick a fight with those men in the common room?” she asked. “I-It will not stop me. If I want to fight with them, I will.”
He laughed deeply. “As much as that would be great entertainment, I would much rather spend our last few hours together alone and not with an audience. I hope you do not mind that I asked for a private chamber.”
Lyssa shook her head, looking around. She couldn’t help but see the bed because it was right next to her and she wondered if Garret had plans for it.
He didn’t seem like the type to push himself on a woman, but the truth was that she didn’t know him very well.
Three days wasn’t enough time to come to know the character of a man but, somehow, she didn’t think this was some elaborate plan to bed her.
She believed him when he said he had only been seeking privacy.
“I-I do not,” she said, sitting down on one of the stools. “I-In fact, I am glad for this. Now we can say what we please and not have to shout over the cries of men demanding that the serving wenches lift their skirts.”
He was forced to agree as he sat his bulk down on the other stool, which could hardly contain it. “I do apologize for that,” he said. “I suggested that we go somewhere else, twice.”
“I-I know.”
“It was rather unseemly of me to bring you to a place of such ribald entertainment.”
She chuckled as she pulled off the cloth covering the food; a big display of fish and fruit pie, cheese, bread and butter was spread out before them along with a big pitcher of the potent Spanish wine. She handed him one of the big, flat knives on the tray and took the other for herself.
“I-I do not mind,” she said, stabbing the knife into the pie and pulling forth a steaming bite of the contents. “I-It was rather fun. I-In fact, all of this has been the best time I have ever had. A-And I have spent it with you.”
He glanced up from buttering his bread, his gaze soft upon her.
“There will be many more times such as this,” he said.
“We shall be married in the morning and all of this madness with Colchester shall be forgotten. We shall start a new life together at Westminster and, when time permits, I shall take you to Ravendark. I believe you will like it a great deal; it is a smaller castle but rich with commerce and livestock. And the land upon which it sits is quite lovely. Permit me tell you about it.”
He did. Between bites of fish and fig pie, Lyssa listened, enthralled, as Garret told her story after story of Ravendark, of the people who lived there, his vassals, before starting in on his travels from The Levant.
The man talked more than she’d ever known him to, telling about his life, his properties, and his adventures.
The more he drank, the more he talked, and the more she drank and ate.
It was an evening Lyssa would never forget, listening to a man who had seemingly lived a thousand adventures and looking forward to her life with Garret more than she had ever anticipated anything, ever.
There was so much ahead for them both, two people who were glad to have finally found a companion in life.
It was the most beautiful evening Lyssa could ever remember.
But for someone else in the common room below, the evening hadn’t been beautiful… it had been life-altering.
Jago had been in a corner of the common room, negotiating a price with one of the whores for her fourteen-year-old daughter, when he’d seen Garret and Lyssa enter.
To say that he was surprised to see Lady Lyssa in the company of Rickard de Moray’s brother was an understatement, but that surprise turned to confusion, and confusion to anger. He could hardly believe it.
Lady Lyssa is here.…
Jago had no idea what the woman was doing with Garret de Moray when she had no business being out of The Wix.
He’d been made to feel like a dirty criminal for even touching the woman because his wife had been unhappy about it.
It was Grace’s job to protect her virginal ladies, so why had Grace permitted Lady Lyssa to go out in public with Rickard’s brother? It didn’t make any sense to him.
But very quickly, something did… he came to realize that Garret de Moray was no ordinary escort.
Jago became aware of that fact the first time he saw the man put his arm around Lyssa and, soon enough, he kissed her.
But it wasn’t any kiss; it was something deep and hungry. Even from his table, Jago could see it.
De Moray kissed her like a lover.
Now, Jago was coming to understand something about Lady Lyssa.
The light of realization went on in his warped brain, brighter than the sun.
She pretended to be chaste and she had everyone at The Wix believing it, but the truth was that she was not the virgin she pretended to be.
Clearly, she was even some type of courtesan, only giving herself to the great generals of King Richard’s stable, for that was what Garret de Moray was – one of Richard’s most powerful knights.
The woman was a courtesan.
A whore.
Now, it all made sense, and it was all the better for him.
If she was a courtesan, then she knew how to please a man, and he was tired of bedding women who would simply lay there like a great lump of lard.
He wanted a woman who would pleasure him, something Lady Lyssa would undoubtedly know how to do.
The desire to have the woman grew tenfold as he watched her interact with Garret de Moray.
When the man finally took her upstairs, Jago grew hard merely thinking on what de Moray was doing to her.
She was a petite woman and de Moray was a very big man, with an undoubtedly large manhood, and Jago began to stroke himself beneath the table as he thought on de Moray plundering Lady Lyssa’s tender body with his big manhood.
Plunging into her tender folds, again and again, listening to her cries of pleasure.
Or were they cries of pain? Jago preferred the ones of pain.
It made him feel as if he were getting the job done.
Jago only hoped that Garret left enough of Lyssa for others to enjoy her, because Jago certainly intended to do that. And if she didn’t agree… they’d have to drag the river for her body.
He wasn’t going to let the whore refuse him twice.