On the Black Wind to Baldairn Motte

Part 12.

Lyrie was awakened by the return of Lord Klaye and Everild. She pretended to still be asleep with the hope that Lord Klaye might let her be for the night. Sleeping on the ground was by no means luxurious, but it was a welcome relief after her ordeal on the ship, and she wanted nothing more than to stay curled up beneath her flimsy bed sheet.

The camp noises from outside had mostly subsided, but the sounds of fires crackling and a few drunken soldiers singing in the distance carried on the night air.

"It's all coming to fruition," Lord Klaye whispered, removing his boots and doublet. "The old fool has no idea what's coming."

"Much of the work is still to be done," Everild whispered back. "And what are we going to do with her?"

Lord Klaye flipped the bed sheet off of Lyrie and opened the front of her sleeping gown to expose her breasts. "She's coming with us, of course."

Lyrie, her ruse of feigning sleep ruined, looked up from Lord Klaye to Everild. Everild kept his eyes firmly on Lord Klaye, even as Lord Klaye tauntingly massaged Lyrie's breasts.

"She can't come with us, my lord. We'll be on foot; she won't be able to keep up. Plus with so few soldiers, how will you keep her hidden?"

"If I remember correctly, Everild, I'm the one giving orders, not you."

"Yes, my lord, but—"

"She's more robust than you know. She'll keep up. She can be my nephew from Sunspar and we'll bring a small tent so we can be together at night at least. She can carry the tent herself."

He pushed up the hem of Lyrie's gown to feel between her legs and she had to fight the urge to pull away from him. His dealings with her had long ago surpassed what was decent with a respected whore, but he had never before humiliated her as he was now, treating her like an animal to impress Everild.

"My lord," Lyrie said calmly. "I am a whore, and I'm glad to pleasure you, but I am not a slave to be dragged around—"

He smacked her across the face. "You'll be a dead whore if you don't do as I say."

Her mouth hung agape in shock. As rough as their sexual encounters sometimes were, he'd never before threatened her with violence.

He shoved her back onto the ground and yanked away her small clothes while pushing her gown up to her waist. She closed her eyes and lay there motionless, determined not to cry nor make any effort to please him.

"My lord," Everild said. His voice was strained. "What if the Earl finds out? You've already defied his orders once by sneaking her on the ship. He'll not be pleased."

"Then I'll kill him and be done with it."

"The Earl will have a dozen of his best men-at-arms with him. My lord, this whore is a distraction to you. We must be wary if this is to succeed."

Lord Klaye pulled away his breeches and thrust himself into Lyrie. Everild looked away. Lyrie just laid there.

"A distraction?" Lord Klaye asked. "Am I distracted right now, Everild? I'm talking to you, aren't I? I'm the one who has put this all together, am I not? Even while forning my whore?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You want to make the decision, Everild? Fine. In the morning the choice is yours. Either bring her along or slit her throat, because she's not staying behind to speak what she knows."

Lord Klaye gritted his teeth as he neared climax.

"You wouldn't let me kill her if I wanted to," Everildsaid beneath his breath and ducked out of the tent.