The Faithful Heart by Merry Farmer Page B

breast and squeezed until she sighed at the pain.
“And for what? So his lap dog could steal the prize?”
    “Oh my lord!” she groaned, she tilted her
head back as he tore her dress away from her breasts.
    “And what does that mongrel Huntingdon do but
disgrace every man of noble blood in this shire by appointing a
filthy peasant as his second!” His teeth punished her heavy breast.
She lifted a leg over his hip, urging him along. “He won’t get away
with it! He doesn’t know who he’s messing with! Huntingdon, that
peasant dog, and my disgrace of a daughter will pay!”
    “Yes! Make them pay!” she echoed him, yanking
away her bodice to expose more of her chest.
    Matlock grabbed her around the waist, lifting
her and moving to throw her across the room’s large bed. He worked
his chausses loose as he prowled towards her.
    “They think they can defy me?” he said, “They
don’t know what’s coming! No one slaps me in the face and gets away
with it, no one!” He crawled over top of her, throwing her skirt
up. “I have friends they don’t even know about. One way or another,
I’ll take what belongs to me!”
    “Oh God, take me, my lord, take me!” Lydia
squirmed in anticipation.
    “One way or another, I will make them
pay!”
     

Chapter Five

    Crispin brought his padded practice sword up
with a sweep, meeting the sudden attack from Jack’s right-hand
sword, then spun and twisted his wrists as he brought it down again
to block the attack from his left-hand sword. Jack’s arm tightened
as the blow taxed his exhausted muscles but managed to hold off the
worst with a grimace. He dodged Crispin’s well-timed thrust at his
shoulder and ducked to the side, spinning around to swipe with his
right-hand sword, ready to back it up with his left if he needed
to.
    Both men wore piercing stares of
concentration and sweat soaked their shirts as they sparred. They
had picked up their swords to push aside the mountain of problems
that threatened to fall on top of them. The hastily called Council
of Nobles was only days away and even though they had worked from
dawn ’til dusk every day since the banquet preparing for it, it
seemed like they were getting nowhere. Jack grit his teeth as he
dodged a thrust powered by Crispin’s frustration, knowing that any
solution to the king’s ransom they came up with would be a hard
sell. Worse still, he knew why.
    He raised both swords and crossed them to
block an overhead blow, then tossed Crispin’s sword to the side in
a sweeping gesture that jerked his friend off-balance. He then took
a step back, spinning his swords with nimble wrists as he circled
Crispin, trying to assess his weaknesses. The problem was the man
had so bloody few of them. Only when it came to dealing with the
nobs of Derby Jack knew he was his friend’s worst weakness.
    He feinted to the right then thrust with his
left-hand sword. Crispin followed his eyes and anticipated the
attack, bringing his sword down and twisting in an attempt to
disarm him. Jack eased into the motion, pulling away before his
sword flew out of his hand, sweat beading on his brow with the
effort.
    His concentration faltered when he caught
sight of Madeline strolling into the practice yard with Aubrey and
Joanna. At the flash of her smile he stood straighter and grinned,
only to have the tip of Crispin’s padded sword hammer into his gut.
He doubled over with a grunt.
    “Never let your guard down,” Crispin
admonished him, a grin in his eyes but not on his face. “Keep your
focus at all times.”
    “Oy! Not fair!” Jack wheezed, working hard to
pull in a breath.
    “Tell that to Ethan and his outlaws,” Crispin
panted, brushing back the damp hair that had fallen into his face.
He turned to Aubrey, only to find her staring at him with hunger in
her eyes, biting her lower lip. He returned her glance with a
smoldering look.
    With a wink to Madeline, Jack smacked Crispin
with the flat of his right-hand sword. Crispin was too