Free Peregrine's Prize by Raven McAllan Page B

a towel.
    One day, I'll hold him
in me again and see if we can make our child. One day.
    Perry untied her and as ever got a cloth and water
to clean them both before gathering her into his arms. Maggie sighed, in
contentment, happy to hold him close and listen to his breathing as it slowed
and he nuzzled her neck.
    "Maggie, I love you." Sated they both
drifted back to sleep.
    Her last thought before sleep overtook her was the
problem of how long he'd be content to wait before he started to get antsy and
demand action.
    ****
    The dawn chorus woke her and she stretched. Something
strange rumbled under her. Maggie brought her hand down and fumbled with the
covers. She spread her fingers and her hand met flesh. Warm, hair covered
flesh, and … she opened her eyes to see Perry slumbering peacefully beside her.
His hand tightened on her arse, and he muttered something in his sleep that
sounded suspiciously like 'mine'. She grinned to herself and moved slightly to
drop a butterfly kiss on his head. At some time during the night they'd
switched positions and now her head rested on his torso, and his nipple was so
close to her mouth. Maggie decided she was very noble as she forced herself to
ignore it and let Perry sleep on. As much as she'd love to wake him in the way
they both loved—and he often demanded—she deemed his sleep more important.
    Taking more care than usual, she lifted his hand
from her rear, amazed at how bereft she felt when that contact disappeared, and
slid out of bed. He muttered again and rolled over to sprawl right across the
bed, buried his head into one pillow, and hugged the other. As Maggie donned
the now well-creased gown from the floor, she smiled. Perry looked boyish and
peaceful; the worries and cares of life smoothed out as he slumbered. If only
it could stay so, but she was under no illusions. Memory loss or not, Perry
would once more be a force to reckon with when he woke.
    In the spirit of giving him as long as possible
before he resumed that state, Maggie tiptoed out of the room and crept down the
stairs, taking care to miss the treads she knew creaked when trodden on. As she
reached the hallway, and congratulated herself on her accomplishment, a scraping
sound made her look toward the front door. As it wasn't something they'd used
the day before, Maggie almost forgot about it. But now, the latch lifted and
the door opened. Her mouth went dry as with a creak the gap between jamb and
frame widened, and a boot shod leg could be seen.
    Maggie looked around to see what—if anything—she
could use as a weapon. Dammit, in all the mystery stories she and Felicity devoured
there would be a handy sabre or suit of armor to use as a cudgel. All she had was
soft house shoes and a Benares vase on a high shelf. The vase would have to be
sacrificed. She stretched up to reach it down, and a familiar voice spoke.
    "Not the vase, Maggie. Felicity is rather fond
of it."
    She whirled round. "Nash? Oh thank the
lord." Maggie shamed herself by breaking into tears and running into his
arms. "I was so scared, he, they ... oh…"
    "So that's what you two get up to when my back
is turned?" Felicity followed Nash in and with one look summed up the
situation, knowing fine well there was nothing other than familial love between
her husband and her cousin.   She added
her arms to his. "Oh Maggie love, sshh, it's all fine, we're here."
    "Even though I'm incapacitated, I thought last
night showed you I was well able to attend to your every needs when I'm
handicapped thus," Perry said from near the top of the stairs. "However
I didn't realize this. You enjoy a threesome, Maggie? Why did you never tell
me?"

 
    Chapter
Nine
     
    Peregrine rolled over, with a morning erection to
vie anything he'd experienced in years, and an arousing memory of someone who
would be more than willing to attend to the problem. With a muttered 'morning
my Maggie', he stretched his arm to feel not a warm body, soft and rounded, but
a cool pillow,