Chapter Eleven

A Single Bed

The information which Nicolo had obtained from Wylder's followers led us away from La Ven, and deeper into the arterial tangle of the Gath's periphery.

‘ There'll always be work for a stonemason ' was a popular saying in Woodfall Gath.

In general terms, it meant that popularity was the key to success (tell an old joke and someone will still laugh), but it was specifically true, as well. When the expansion of the Great Castle had begun, and when it had absorbed its first few villages, it had been extraordinary—nothing of the kind had ever happened before. Now, it was just expected, and the Gath kept on growing because there was no reason for it to stop. At every outward edge (save where it had come up against the mountains to the north), it continued to grow. The quarries never stopped working, and the masons never stopped building.

It was a good place for a man on the run to hide, partly because you'd be hidden by the constant activity and noise of the hustle and bustle, but also because you were never far from open country—there was always somewhere to flee. But to a man like Duke Wylder, born and raised in the Gath, leaving was like an admission of defeat, yet he was also a man who knew how to live and fight another day. He had a cause he believed in, and such men were dangerous.

As night fell and the light dimmed, Whitethorn rode up alongside Master Nicolo for a whispered conversation. Though I couldn't hear the words, I recognized the frustration in Nicolo's tone and the tension in his body.

When the conversation finished, Nicolo held up a hand, calling for a halt. "We stop here for the night. Tommel, find a place for us to bunk."

I said nothing, but I could guess at the content of the conversation. If Duke Wylder had come here, then it was because he knew the area well. And if we were riding into the dead of night, that put us at a disadvantage, leaving us open to ambush. Though Nicolo hated to break off the pursuit, it was the sensible thing to do. And if Nicolo were anything, it was sensible.

Accommodation wasn't difficult to find, mainly because all the people working on the building site had to live somewhere. The workers didn't demand much from their living arrangements, certainly not compared to someone more accustomed to the luxuries of the Prince's Tower. I didn't think Nicolo was above a few nights of discomfort, but there was one concession he wasn't willing to make; he slept alone. Even here, with soldiers whom he'd picked himself, he was wary of assassins, and perhaps with good reason, given that Wylder's men were still out there.

And me, of course.

Tommel found a berth for us in a makeshift wooden shanty where a group of builders were happy to surrender their cots for the night in return for a few coins. More importantly, the overseer had a room there, windowless and with a sturdy lock.

"Well done, Tommel," nodded Nicolo. "Make yourselves comfortable. We leave at daybreak."

"Yes, very good but…" Tommel looked a little uncertain, as people usually did when speaking to Nicolo. "What about your squire, Master?"

Nicolo looked at me with an expression that suggested he'd, once again, forgotten I was a female, but now that he was reminded of it, realized it mattered very much. A woman sleeping on her own, among a group of men—it wasn't safe. Granted, most of our guards wouldn't lay a finger on me—mostly because they were terrified of Nicolo, but as I'd mentioned, there were still assassins out there and there were also those men who were building the place.

The opportunity bell rang in my head once more, and my training kicked in, urging me to, this time, take full advantage of the opportunity as I doubted another one would be presented.

"I can bed down with the men," I shrugged, knowing full well Nicolo would never allow it. "I doubt they will mind."

"I'm damned sure they won't mind," Nicolo snarled, that flattering jealousy surfacing once more.

"And why should they? I don't take up much room and I'm a quiet sleeper," I continued.

"Charlotte, it's just those sorts of comments that make me irritable."

I tried to hide my smile. "And why is that?"

"Because I know you realize the quandary facing me."

"Apologies, Master," I said, meekly.

I saw the thought crisscrossing in his eyes—if I didn't sleep with the men, where was I to sleep? There was only one room, but Nicolo slept alone. Always . Yet to leave me out with the men…

"Where shall I sleep, Master?" I asked, pushing him as I watched the argument play out in his head.

"You will sleep in the overseer's room."

"But I thought that was your room?" I asked with a frown. "Where will you sleep?" I continued, as guilelessly as I could, fully well knowing the answer.

"I'll sleep there too."

***

The room was small and not made for comfort.

These shanty towns moved with the building work, hastily erected, hastily torn down, but it was secure enough for Nicolo's purposes. The overseer clearly cared for his privacy as much as did Nicolo, as exemplified by the lock which was an over large, heavy thing that looked better made than the door it sealed. By the far wall was a ramshackle bed, a blanket covering it, neatly tucked in at the sides. A scratch-built couch stood by the wall. The overseer had taken any personal touches with him when he'd vacated the place.

"You take the bed," instructed Nicolo. It was hard to say if his gruff tone was due to the abrupt end to the day's chase or masking something else.

"I couldn't, Master. The settee appears…"

"Oh, in the name of the Great God," Nicolo snapped, "will you just follow one instruction without arguing, Charlotte!"

I backed down and was grateful to see the anger drain from Nicolo's face.

"It's been a long and unsatisfying day," he said as he exhaled and shook his head. "I'd like to think I've treated you no differently from a male squire, but we both know that to be horse shit."

"Horse shit, Master?"

He turned to glare at me. "I've made multiple concessions where you're concerned, partly because, despite the whispers behind my back, I am a gentleman, and I believe a woman is to be treated in a certain fashion, whether she's a duchess or a whore." Apparently realizing he might have just called me a whore, he cleared his throat and gave me an apologetic smile. "I'm not calling you a whore, by the way."

"Thank you, sir."

"Regardless," he continued, frowning at me in a way that made it seem I'd done something to upset him, though I wasn't sure what. "I'm happy enough to get either a duchess or a whore on her back, but I'm always polite about it." I wasn't sure what he was going on about, nor what his point was but I simply nodded and said, "Very good."

He sighed and then frowned at me again. "The main reason I've treated you differently is because… quite simply, I bloody well… like you."

I met his gaze, and for a split second it seemed as if I saw past the mask of Master Nicolo, to the man behind that mask. I wondered how many had been afforded such a glimpse since he'd been separated from his mother as a child.

"Thank you, sir."

"There are precious few people I would say the same about," Nicolo went on, nodding on a sigh as he ran a hand down the back of his neck and appeared to all the world as if he were extremely put out. "Yes, you are still nothing more than my squire and, thus, quite beneath me, but I do enjoy your company."

"While I am not quite certain whether that was a compliment," I laughed. "I do enjoy yours too, Master."

Nicolo gave me a rueful smile. "Sometimes I think you enjoy it too much. But thank you, Charlotte. Now take the fucking bed or I shall strip you and strap you into it."

I had his trust.

It was exactly what I'd been working all these weeks to win, and it justified every opportunity I'd let slip, because tonight we would sleep in the same room, and he would never wake again.

I unbuckled my sword belt, pulled off my boots and surcoat, and got under the blanket, leaving my knife strapped to my upper left thigh. Nicolo wouldn't think anything of it—he'd assume I wore my defensive measures to bed just as he did. The effort now would be to stay awake long enough to do the deed. It had been a long day, following a long night and I'd not slept now for thirty-six hours.

Nicolo kicked off his boots and took off his belt, though he kept the sword with him, never more than a hand's breadth away. He unlaced his leather jerkin and folded it into a makeshift pillow. Then he sat on the couch as he looked over at me and found me looking at him.

"Go to sleep."

"Goodnight, Master."

I rolled over, pinching myself beneath the blanket to ensure I stayed awake. As I had in the maids' dormitory by night, I listened for the change in breathing that indicated Nicolo had gone to sleep. But no change ever came. After a while, as if trying to get comfortable, I turned over again, and found Nicolo still seated on the couch, eyes open, sword laid across his lap.

"You're," I started.

"Go to sleep, Charlotte," he repeated.

I closed my eyes and tried my best to mimic the sound and appearance of sleep, pinching myself harder and harder still as my body demanded rest. After what felt like a very long time, I opened my eyes the barest crack, peering through meshed lashes.

"Go to sleep, Charlotte."

He wasn't going to sleep until I did, and there was apparently no fooling him. Now what? I couldn't let the opportunity pass and I feared if I closed my eyes again, I was going to succumb to my body's demands for sleep.

"It's too hot in here."

"How did the other maids ever live with you," muttered Nicolo, shaking his head. "By the god, you're an absolute pain in the ass."

But he stopped talking as I reached under the covers to tug off my hose. In fact, the whole atmosphere in the room seemed to change, as though growing both thicker and tenser as I placed the garment beside the bed and stripped off my tunic next. I tugged the blanket over me, but we were both firmly aware that beneath the blanket, I was clad only in a thin cotton shift, and I could almost see that knowledge written across his face as he watched me intently. No longer was he wearing the knowing smile he had when I'd tried on costumes for him, nor was the fire in his eyes that had been there when he'd watched me bathe. This was different. The look he gave me now was simply intent.

I rolled over again, turning my back to him, but allowing the blanket to come with me so he could see the expanse of my back down to my ass, where the shift covered it.

"Is that better?" The voice, coming from behind me, was gruff and thick.

I didn't look around. "You can't be comfortable on the settee."

I heard the creak of the divan as he stood, the scuffed noises of his bare feet on the wood floor and, most thrillingly, the sound of his sword being leaned against the bed—still nearby, but no longer in his hands.

If he wasn't going to sleep until I did, there was one other way of putting him at his ease and, as I'd learned at the Guild, most men slept after engaging in sex.

But that brought up one question: was this the way I wanted to lose my maidenhood? Using it to lure a man into a false sense of security before killing him? Owing to my unique schooling, this was exactly how I'd imagined it happening though… I couldn't say the thought felt good. It was more an expectation I knew I was meant to live up to. And, actually, if I was going to lose my virginity in such a way, I was lucky for it to happen with someone like Nicolo—someone so incredibly handsome, virile and someone I respected.

Which was an odd thing to think about a man I was planning to kill.

Frankly, I was trying to put the killing part of the night to the back of my mind and focus on what was happening now.

The bed moved as Nicolo lay down behind me and drew the blanket back so it covered us both. I could feel his breath on my shoulder but he kept his body apart from mine.

I tried to recall all that Mistress Aurore had taught me, but the specifics got jumbled in my head, which was currently in a whirl. What leapt to the top was her final, most important advice; follow your instincts .

I scooted back so my body was pressed against his.

"Charlotte." There was a hint of remonstrance in his voice.

"Master," I whispered back, and there was much contained in that single word.

Nicolo's breath seemed suddenly thready and ragged. His hand settled on my side and the touch made shockwaves pass through me. Almost without thinking, I wriggled back further, pressing my ass into the heat that seemed to radiate from between his thighs, and felt something lurch solidly against me.

For a few minutes we remained like that as I felt the hardness growing, achieving the impressive dimensions I'd seen measured out on the wall of the maids' dormitory. Nicolo's fingers moved on my side, bunching up the material of my shift, so my ass was now bare as my cheeks moved against him.

I felt his hands on either side of my hips and his breathing hitched. "You truly are extraordinary," he whispered and when I glanced up at him, over my shoulder, I realized he was taking stock of my backside.

"Thank you, Master."

"Don't…" he started. "Don't call me that tonight. Please."

"Yessir."

"Don't call me that either."

"What should I call you?"

"Nicolo."

"Nicolo?"

"Yes?"

I swallowed hard and couldn't explain why I was suddenly so nervous. I had him exactly where I wanted him and yet my heart was racing like a frightened bird. "May I turn over?"

He chuckled. "Yes, Charlotte, you may turn over."

I did so and my breath caught as I took in the taut, washboard muscles of his stomach and the raised hard planes of his pectorals. I felt my lips part as a whisp of surprise blew past them when Nicolo's fingers found my nipples which were already hard and poking through the thin material of my shift.

I looked up at him. "May I… may I touch you?"

He chuckled. "Don't ask. Do."

I swallowed hard and allowed my fingers to run over the muscles of his chest, his stomach, down the swells of his arms. He was so hard and his skin was so hot, almost as though it were burning underneath my touch. My fingers went lower down his stomach, past the waistband of his trousers…

"Oh!" I hadn't meant to sound so na?ve—I might have been a virgin, but I'd been trained by Mistress Aurore, using her store of anatomically correct models. But the real thing was different, it was hotter, harder, it had a pulse that pounded through it, and, at least in the case of Nicolo, it was bigger. Much, much bigger.

Putting my momentary anxiety to one side, I forged on, my fingers sketching out the contours of what I'd discovered, exploring its full extent, and finally taking hold of this wonderful discovery, as if to claim it for myself.

As my fingers wrapped around Nicolo's manhood, I was rewarded with his sigh of pleasure. His breathing settled into a slow luxurious rhythm as I began to stroke, up and down, until he became almost too hot to touch, feeling the throbbing pulse against my slim fingers.

Something wet dripped from the top of him and I had the aching need to taste it. I didn't though—I held myself back even if I wasn't sure why. I just… it was a closeness between us that didn't seem right at the moment. Not when we'd broken down so many doors just to arrive at this place and time at this very moment.

I couldn't say how long we continued like that—with me stroking his engorged hardness over and over again. Whenever his breathing began to hiccup and his eyes clenched tight, I stopped the intensity of my stroking and offered him only a light touch before bringing him back to the precipice once again.

After the third or fourth time doing just that, Nicolo stilled my hand.

"You are driving me to the brink of madness, Charlotte."

"Do you need completion?"

"Please."

I was surprised in the pleasure the power over him gave me, and I could only assume such was the reason I couldn't seem to bring myself to allow him release. I enjoyed seeing him like this—completely dependent upon me satisfying him. Nicolo, too, seemed to enjoy the frustration of being kept on the ragged edge, while always knowing this was only going to end one way.

With gentle fingers, he brushed the hair from my neck and kissed his way up and down my throat. But when he reached around to touch me between my thighs (which were slick with my own need), I held his hand back—I wanted him under my control. I wanted him so reliant on me, so desperate that his whole body was one angry nerve, begging for release. I wanted to drive him to distraction, then give him what he wanted, so his mind was on me and his own pleasure, and nowhere near that sword that leaned so close to us.

He was certainly reaching that point.

It wasn't just the significant organ between his thighs, his whole body seemed to swell with desire, muscles tensing, chest inflating, hips rising towards me. His breathing was sharp and shallow as he fought to control himself, low moans and growls joining the harsh breaths.

"Please, Charlotte, I need you to finish me."

Back at the Guild, I recalled one afternoon when we'd spent three hours doing finger exercises on Mistress Aurore's models. The tendons in my hand ached so much the following day that I couldn't even pick up a pencil, but I'd never forgotten what to do with my fingers.

If Nicolo had been thinking more clearly, he might have wondered how an apparently innocent girl knew exactly where and how to touch a man, but in this situation, it seems no man ever stops to wonder, he just thanks the Great God for his good fortune.

More than once I thought I'd pushed him too far, but Nicolo possessed superior self-control and managed to hold back, while I dialed down what I was doing. When he'd regained his self-possession, he invariably thrust his hips forward once more, urging me on, as if this was all a test of his masculinity, and one which he intended to pass.

But if his self-control seemed almost inexhaustible, mine was beginning to run out. This was either a terrible idea or the best plan in the history of planning, but either way, it was fast approaching its natural conclusion.

I looked up at Nicolo and saw the desire in his eyes. Truly, he appeared more animal than man, and I wanted that animal as much as I'd ever wanted anything. He lunged for my mouth and kissed me, his tongue forcing its way into the small confines of my mouth. He reached down and gripped my hand as I continued to stroke him and when he broke away from the kiss, he craned his head back as he clenched his eyes shut.

He was close.

So close.

I began to slow my hand and Nicolo's eyes popped open as he growled, "No, you've tortured me long enough."

Before I could understand what was happening, he'd gripped me by the shoulders and flipped me so he was now on top of me and I was staring up at him in shock. He thrust my shift all the way up to bare my breasts as well as the rest of me. Then, he took a firm hold of each of my thighs and spread them, settling himself between my legs. It was then that I felt the head of him at my opening. I moaned as he rubbed the head of his erection up and down my opening, groaning and closing his eyes as he did. He pushed the tiniest bit of himself inside me and I made a strange yipping sort of sound. When he leaned forward, he brought his face down to mine.

"Charlotte."

I opened my eyes and found him staring at me intently.

"Are you a maid?" he asked.

It took me a moment to realize he was speaking English and doing so at me.

"Charlotte!"

"Ye-yessir, Master… I mean, Nicolo." Then he expelled a long breath and at the realization that my virginity was a problem to him, I added, "But I don't care."

"And yet I do," he answered, shaking his head. He pushed up on his elbows as he then slammed his fist into the mattress in obvious frustration, surprising me even further.

Before I could understand what in the world was going on, he brought his face back up to mine and there was regret in his eyes.

"Charlotte—" He took a deep breath. "Your introduction to such things shouldn't go like this."

"Master!" The shout and banging on the door made Nicolo and I start so violently, we almost fell off the bed.

"What the fuck do you want!" Nicolo roared at the door, furious at being interrupted.

"Duke Wylder is attacking!"