Chapter Eight
One week later
She had hair as 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 no sense 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.”
With a grin, Matthew opened the door to find Gaston de Russe standing there.
Impossibly enormous, powerful, dark, and frightening, Gaston de Russe was as ominous and terrifying as Matthew was congenial and benevolent.
The two were also the best of friends as well as cousins.
Gaston shoved the door open and stepped into the room, immediately spying the women in Matthew’s bed. He sighed heavily.
“Why am I not surprised?” he grumbled, pointing to the women and then flicking his hand in the direction of the door. “Out, both of you. I will not tell you again.”
Orders from the knight they called The Dark One were not meant to be questioned or disobeyed.
The women began to scurry, picking up their clothes from the floor, trying to dress and protect their modesty from the big, dark knight, which was a ridiculous thing to do.
It wasn’t as if he gave any care to either one of them.
He did, however, turn his back on them to face Matthew as the women frantically dressed.
“Did you get any sleep?” he asked Matthew wryly.
Matthew was still grinning at his big cousin. “Of course I did,” he said, turning away and going in search of his breeches. “At least, I think I did. A little, I suppose. Come to think of it, I do not know.”
Gaston shook his head at the man, resigned to Matthew’s behavior. “Your father said he was going to marry you off soon,” he said. “Maybe that will curtail these primal urges you seem to have.”
Matthew found his leather bottoms and pulled them on. “Not any time soon,” he sniffed. “My father has been threatening to betroth me for a few years now but he has yet to do it.”
“Doesn’t he have someone in mind?”
Matthew shrugged. “He says he does,” he replied. “The niece of an ally, I think. Howard Terrington. Do you remember him?”
Gaston nodded his head. “I do indeed,” he said. “I do not like him. He is shifty and I do not trust him. His niece, you say?”
Matthew made a face. “She is only five years of age,” he said, unhappy. “I am sure I can talk my father out of it.”
Gaston cracked a smile. “Why?” he asked. “You will have to marry, eventually. If your wife is five years of age then you will not have to marry her for quite some time, at least another ten years of so.”
Matthew simply shook his head as he secured the ties on his breeches. He glanced up as Raven and the other woman ran past him, fully clothed, and disappeared into the darkened corridors beyond. He sighed.
“Is that what you came to talk to me about?” he asked Gaston, irritated. “You want to know when I am getting married?”
Gaston grunted and shook his head, moving over to the bed and sniffing the air. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “It smells as if animals have been mating in here.”
Matthew crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest. “Did you also come to criticize me?”
Gaston fought off a grin as he moved to the lancet window that overlooked the eastern portion of Babylon’s walls. “Nay,” he said, pleased that he had managed to annoy his usually easy-going cousin. “I came to talk to you about le Bec. Has he said anything more to you about the move on Manchester?”
Matthew shook his head. “Not since Warwick departed last week,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
Gaston was looking out over the countryside.
The snows had melted surprisingly fast because the past week had been clear weather with bright sun.
Now, all he could see were fields of dead grass beneath the sunshine.
Below him in the inner ward, the castle was going about its business and the sections of wall that had been damaged by two successive sieges were being repaired from a quarry nearby.
Aye, everything was back to normal. But it shouldn’t have been. He turned to Matthew.
“Warwick gave Kenton specific instructions to plan for the subjugation of Rochdale and Manchester,” he said. “Kenton should have at least have come up with a plan during this past week but I have heard nothing. I thought he might have said something to you.”
Matthew uncrossed his arms and looked away, heading to the chair where his heavy woolen tunic was slung over the back. He collected his tunic and pulled it over his curly blond hair.
“He has not said anything to me about it,” he replied, somewhat subdued. “Have you asked de Birmingham or Forbes or le Mon?”
Gaston nodded. “They are as much in the dark as we are.”
Matthew pondered that a moment. “Kenton has been too busy with Lady Thorne and her children to worry about a siege on Manchester.”
Gaston nodded. “I know,” he agreed. “I have seen it, too. So have his men. I suppose that was the point I was driving at. Le Bec is very distracted and if word gets back to Warwick, he will not be pleased.”
Matthew knew that. “We have fought with Kenton le Bec since we were both knighted,” he said.
“He is the consummate knight, professional and perfect. He was at Towton, for Christ’s Sake, and survived it, so that is some indication to the man’s skill.
But I also heard he lost a wife and child a few years ago.
It is not wrong for a man to want to fill that void, Gaston. ”
Gaston glanced at him. “Nay, it is not wrong,” he said, “but Warwick will not see it that way. Do not take my statements as condemnation against le Bec; I respect and admire him a great deal. But if Warwick finds out he has been distracted by Lady Thorne, it is quite possible that Warwick will send the lady away. You know this as well as I do. If he is forced to do that, it will not go well for le Bec.”
Matthew sat down on the chair to pull his boots on. “Then mayhap we should bring that up to the man.”
Gaston shrugged. “And if he does not respond? Do we send word to Warwick that le Bec is otherwise occupied and Manchester will have to wait?”
Matthew shook his head. “We do not,” he said.
“Gaston, I have no great love for Warwick. You know that. My loyalty would much rather be with le Bec for I know he is a true and loyal knight. I feel in this case that we must speak with le Bec and voice our concerns, for his sake. If le Bec does not move on Manchester, Warwick will come down on him. Even if he knows that, he must be reminded. Mayhap that is all he needs – a reminder that we are expecting something great from him. And so is Warwick.”
Gaston nodded with some resignation. “I never thought I would see the day where Kenton le Bec would stray from his orders.”
Matthew finished with his boots and stood up. “He has not strayed,” he replied steadily. “He is simply off course a bit. A beautiful woman will do that to a man.”
“Not me.”
“You are not a man.”
Matthew barely dodged the giant fist that came flying out at him.
With a grin, he led the way from his chamber as the pair went in search of Kenton le Bec.
The man had to be set on course again or bad tidings in the form of Warwick’s wrath could befall him.
Matthew and Gaston would try to prevent it if they could.
As the knights passed down the stairs that would take them to the entry level one floor below, they failed to see two little forms tucked back in the alcove that was just outside of Matthew’s door.
Raven and Liesl were hovering there, having heard everything Matthew and Gaston had spoken of.
They were young, and naturally curious, and the conversation about le Bec and Lady Thorne did not surprise either of them.
Spending as much time as they did around Lady Thorne, they knew she spent a great deal of time with le Bec. And they knew she seemed to like it.
But hearing the knights speak of the attention between Kenton and Nicola, they wondered if they shouldn’t say something to Lady Thorne about it.
Perhaps she would want to know that Kenton’s knights were suspicious of their lord’s behavior and that it could cause problems with Warwick.
They brought the information to the attention of Janet, who told them to keep their silly mouths closed.
It was none of their business, anyway, and if rumors got started, Janet swore she would take a switch to them both.
Therefore, the girls kept their mouths closed, at least to rumors, but when it came to Matthew Wellesbourne, their mouths were anything but closed.
He rather liked it that way.