Free Surrender by Sophia Johnson

evening
breeze making him salivate. His belly grumbled reminding him how
empty it was. More than empty, really. 'Twas a wonder his stomach
didn't meet his backbone.
    He grabbed the bathing cloth and hurriedly
soaped it until bubbles floated from it. Water surged in waves and
splashed the floor when he stood to scrub his body. After he soaped
from his head to his hips, he paid particular note to his sex. He
lifted his cock and washed the bottom side and around his ballocks
until his skin was pink. When he finished his back and hips, he sat
in the water and rinsed.
    Never had he felt more cleansed. If he was
not so hungry, he would go straight to bed. Wrapping his lower half
in a large drying cloth, he padded with wet feet to the table.
    Wine. Beef wrapped in something. Clams.
Turnips and asparagus. His mouth watered. He popped a sparrow's egg
into his mouth while he used his eating knife to attack the beef.
The bite of meat was near in his mouth when he hesitated. Should he
be wary?
    Nay. The girl was troublesome, for truth, but
she could not be so fashious she would again tamper with his food.
He ate the beef. Not only did he eat the beef, he near ate
everything they had brought him. He burped, loud and strong, before
savoring the stuffed figs.
    He sprawled back in his chair, enjoying the
cold air from the window sifting between his legs. The wine was
surprisingly good. Better than any at Clibrick. He would have to
ask where they secured it.
    One thing about eating heartily—it made him
sleepy. He stretched, contented. He would make a point of going
into Northumbria when he left here in the morning, but since they'd
learned what they had today, it was all for show. Still, it would
give Magnus a head start. He grinned, thinking of his cagey
brother. They would have to ride hard afterward to overtake him
afore he reached the Highlands.
    He stood and unwound the drying cloth from
his hips. He tossed it on the chair's seat, picked up his sword and
leaned it against the bed. After pulling aside the sheet, he
plopped down on the bed, arms outstretched.
    Were angels to lie down on clouds, they would
feel as he did as his body settled into the down mattress.

    What awakened him? He didn't twitch, didn't
move. His chest kept up his quiet, deep breathing. Um, he noted the
faint scent of heather and raised his lids 'till only a thin line
of vision showed.
    Piss! Elyne had come to plague him again. Did
she think to cackle and drool, throw cinders around the room or
something else to pretend she was a wraith? At least she hadn't
striped her face with cherry juice. He waited to see what her new
mischief would be.
    She hesitated in the doorway, biting her
lower lip. So. Undecided, eh? She'd best be. He'd not go lightly
with her again.
    He watched as she eased the door shut and
walked so quietly her footsteps did not even whisper across the
floor. She stood beside the bed hugging her arms then rubbing them
before she started inching her smock into her hands and began to
lift it. He watched long, slender legs emerge, then the soft
material slid up over firm, gleaming thighs. It bunched now in
front of the joining of her thighs, and he found himself holding
his breath.
    Waiting. Tense.
    Did she plan to run screaming from the room,
claiming he had tried to rape her? Was it her intent? To get him
killed afore the nuptials?
    Heavy footfalls sounded outside his door. Was
this what she awaited? His muscles readied to grab his sword and
fight his way from the keep. Interesting. She jumped and scampered
to press herself against the far wall. If the door opened, no one
standing at the entrance would see her. When the footsteps faded in
the distance, he sensed her tension ease and she returned.
    No slow disrobing took place this time. She
took a deep breath and yanked her smock over her head. As a cloud
eased from covering the moon, a thin streak of moonlight crawled
with stealth through the window opening beside the head of the bed.
It crept across