Free Bondslave (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards #1 ) by Georgia Fox Page A

make certain of it.
    The moaning and gasping soon woke the other three to watch this frenzied mating. The brother's gathered around, moving her long loose hair aside and lifting her legs to get a clearer view of the reaming she was getting. They marveled aloud over how much she could take and it was not long before they joined in, eager to begin their games all over again.
    She welcomed them all with gleeful satisfaction. Last night the five of them had fucked her soundly. This morning she had the pleasure of returning the favor, leaving the d'Anzeray brothers exhausted for the first time in living memory.
     
    * * * *
     
    Salvador came out to the stables as he was readying his horse for the journey.
    "So now you have fine new boots from my cobbler. I hope you know your lovely slave earned those for you. She pleased us all so well last night we agreed to pay for the best boots he could make."
    "Oh, I know you would not have been so generous just for me," he muttered, securing the bloodied sack to the back of the saddle. He didn't want to think too hard about what she'd whispered to him that morning or how much enjoyment he'd had with her. She was not his to keep, and he must remember that.
    "She gave herself so readily to us last night, I wonder if there is anything she would not do for you, Raul."
    "She gave herself eagerly because she enjoyed it." He shot his brother a frown. "I'm not leaving her here for you, if that's what you mean to ask."
    "Somehow I didn't think you would."
    Glancing quickly toward the open stable door, he explained to Salvador that he was taking her to Canterbury for a reason. "I happen to know there's a reward out for her return."
    "Her return?"
    He sighed and patted the horse's rump. "She belongs to the Comte de Tourlaville. She's a runaway slave, and he wants her back." This morning he was all business. Had to be. He was Raul d'Anzeray, ruthless mercenary, not a lovesick, pussy-whipped boy.
    Salvador's brows arched high. "Is that so?"
    "Yes. I'll collect the reward for her and for this," he jabbed a finger at the sack containing the severed head. "He'll be so thankful to me that he'll oblige by giving me his daughter's hand and her plump dowry. I hear she's of age to be wed and he's looking for prospects."
    There was a pause. Salvador walked around his horse, stroking its glossy mane. "Tourlaville is in Canterbury?"
    "So I'm told. He went to confer with a holy man."
    Salvador laughed curtly. "Looking to pay his way in through the gates of heaven, no doubt, that scheming old bugger. And you'd give your slave girl up for Tourlaville's daughter?"
    Raul stood with feet apart and folded his arms. "Father wants us to marry rich brides of noble blood. He wants political and wealthy alliances in the family. You heard him, as did I."
    His brother's thin lips turned up in a knowing smirk. "I don't believe you'd ever do it."
    "Do what?"
    "Give her up. Your Princesa ."
    He shook his head. "She's not mine and never was, Sal. This was a pleasant diversion. Nothing more. She goes back where she belongs, and I get my reward."
    Salvador pursed his lips.
    "I've never changed my mind over a woman," Raul reminded him crossly. "And she's a penniless whore. What sort of wife would she make for men of ambition like us?"
    "Perhaps you're right." Sal ran a hand through the horse's dark mane. "By the by, I hear Tourlaville has trouble subduing the Saxon rebels at the castellany King William granted him."
    Raul sneered. "I'm not surprised. He's a bad leader and can't keep the trust or the fealty of his soldiers. He's lazy, wastes his time on idle pursuits." For instance, look how the man waited for others to catch his runaway whore. If it were Raul, or one of his brothers, they would have chased her down themselves before she got far. Although, she would never run from them, would she?
    "Doesn't his nephew have land near Canterbury?" Sal asked suddenly. "I daresay the old bugger has gone there to plead for