Free Hellion (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 7) by Jayne Fresina Page A

flowers up in a gentle wave to his nostrils and
increased his appetite. Her skin was very fine and clean, like some
precious cloth he would have to steal because it was too expensive
even for his well-filled coffers.
    Her hands had moved, as if to push him
back, but instead they settled on his shoulders like skittish
sparrows. Then as her breathing quickened again, he felt those
fingers regaining strength, digging into his shoulders. Slowly they
began to explore, making their way down to his breeches, where she
laid a palm against his hardened length. She ran her hand up and
down as if measuring his cock, and he groaned, pushing himself at
her hand while he flicked his tongue over her extended
nipple.
    He heard her gasp. "You're too
big."
    Sal took his mouth off her nipple and
chuckled softly. "There's no such thing." Just thinking of it, of
forcefully penetrating her high and mighty pussy— possibly while
she fought to slap his face again— made him swell another good
inch.
    She took her hand away as if he'd
burned her venturing palm. Suddenly she closed her cloak, hiding
her body. "This has gone far enough," she muttered. "I gave you
more than the taste you wanted."
    "Touch comes next." He stepped toward
her again, but she slipped out of his clutches, pulling up the hood
of her cloak and backing away from him as she moved toward the
corner of the forge.
    "I must return home. It's
late."
    Now only her face was visible for his
admiration. The light of the torch caressed it gently for there was
little breeze tonight and the flames were barely
disturbed.
    But his heartbeat was another
matter.
    Sal felt the strange temptation of
asking her to stay. Asking.
    What the devil was she doing to him?
This small woman with the odd violet eyes and the strong hands that
slapped without fear?
    Although she had claimed to be leaving
now in haste, she stood still, staring back at him, her full lips
pursed as if she was puzzling over something too.
    Suddenly a man's voice was heard loud
and clear in the yard. "Where is my brother? His supper gets
cold."
    The guards must have pointed him to
the forge, for the sound of Dominigo's clumsy, big feet grew
louder. Sal swore. Her saw her eyes flare in panic, so he signaled
for her to be silent. He shouted back, "Dom, I'll be in presently.
Go back."
    "What are you doing out here?" the
other man's voice shouted.
    "Naught. Go inside."
    "Aha! Now I see." Dom's face loomed
into sight around the corner of the forge, appearing right behind
Helene, who was frozen to the spot. "What's this? A naughty
midnight tryst, eh, brother?"
    Thank Christ she'd put her hood up,
thought Sal, feeling again that unusual possessiveness when it came
to her stunning hair. "Aye, 'tis just a little...milkmaid. No one
important. Only a woman. The usual hussy." That would get her back
for the slapped face, he mused.
    She glared at him and her lips parted,
but she kept her back to the other man and didn't speak. Now her
expression was haughty and proud again, as it usually was when it
faced him through a gate, or over a wall. Quarrelsome woman. Sal
knew he had let her absorb too many of his thoughts these past few
days. Perhaps it was the summer heat affecting him.
    "It's not like you not to share, Sal."
Dom grinned broadly. "Bring her inside. Is the wench
shy?"
    He realized his brother would be
doubly suspicious if he kept this "milkmaid" all to himself.
Besides, he had to prove to himself — and to her—that he was not
being turned into her fool. No woman had ever confused him as she
did and he needed to regain control of the situation as best he
could.
    So he swallowed hard and said. "She
protests I'm too big for her pussy. Come help me persuade her that
I'll fit, brother."
     
    * * * *
     
    Helene had no escape. She was trapped
between the two men against the back wall of the forge and no one
would come to her aid. If she shouted for her escort it would give
her identity away and at least, naked under her simple hooded