The Brat(33)
Author: Lynsay Sands

"Aye," he growled, and kissed her again, his tongue thrusting in and forcing hers to duel. Murie slid her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, moaning as he tweaked her nipple through the cloth and rubbed his upper thigh more firmly against the apex of hers. Then he shifted away, and she felt his hand slip beneath the hem of her skirt and ride up her inner leg.

Murie shifted her legs restlessly under the caress, her own response becoming more frantic as his hand ran along her upper thigh. She cried out into his mouth as his fingers reached her core, and suddenly his mouth was gone. She blinked her eyes open with confusion. He moved down her body, but she never got the chance to ask why; she had her answer when his head ducked beneath her skirt.

"Oh!" she cried out, clawing at the clover on each side of her as his lips moved over first one thigh and then the other. She felt his hands slide beneath her bottom to lift her as if he were about to bite into a quarter slice of melon, and his mouth settled on her, drawing another cry of pleasure from her throat.

Moaning, Murie twisted her head to the side and then blinked as she found herself staring at an elusive four-leaf clover not an inch before her eyes. Reaching out she grabbed it, then squeezed her hand tight closed around it, crushing the leaf as her husband set to work in earnest. Within moments she’d forgot all about the clover and had her eyes crushed shut as she twisted her head back and forth on the ground.

When her husband’s teeth lightly grazed the core of her pleasure, her eyes popped open on a gasp, and she bucked against him; then she blinked as a droplet of water fell into her eye. When a second fell, she blinked again, her mind slowly registering that it was raining and apparently had been for some moments. Turning her eyes skyward, she noted dark, heavy storm clouds gathering overhead and caught her breath.

Murie instinctively reached down to find her husband and warn him, since he was under her skirt and would not realize it, but in the next moment she was clawing at the ground again as he slid a finger inside her, adding to the sensations already assaulting her. Murie wasn’t aware she was making a long ululating sound until her body convulsed with pleasure and the noise became something of a shriek, echoing in the clearing.

Balan rose as she was still shuddering with pleasure and started to shift to his knees, but then paused and glanced skyward, his hands reaching out to the sides as he realized that, yes, indeed it was raining, and his wife hadn’t said a thing and now lay half soaked and trembling.

Murie heard him chuckle; then he was scooping her up in his arms and running for the cover of the trees. She kissed his neck, his ear and anything else she could reach as they went, then happily opened her mouth for him when he turned his head to cover hers with his own.

Once under cover, he broke their kiss as he set her down on her own two feet. He then reached for her surcoat, lifted it off over her head and tossed it to the ground before bending to kiss her again and work at the lacings of her gown. Unwilling to be the only one undressed, Murie immediately set to work at the buttons of his doublet. She was working blindly, her eyes closed as he kissed her, but they shot open with a start as a crack of thunder sounded overhead.

Balan finished undoing her gown and immediately began to tug it off her shoulders and down her arms, forcing her hands to stop work on his clothing. Murie shivered as the gown pooled around her feet, leaving her nak*d in the storm-chilled breeze. Balan broke away to finish working the buttons of his doublet. He then shrugged it off. His boots and leggings soon followed the gown and doublet to the ground, and he drew her into his arms once more.

Murie sighed against his chest as his warm body encompassed hers, and then Balan bent to trail kisses down her throat. Moaning, she turned her head to the side to give him better access, but stilled as she caught the flash of lightning in the sky. Thunder rolled right behind it, and alarm claimed her. The storm was close.

Tugging free of Balan’s hold, she grabbed his hand and turned to run through the trees, pulling him behind her. She thought she heard him ask where she was going, but another roll of thunder drowned out the question, and then they were at the tree she wanted. She’d spotted it earlier as she’d looked for an ash. Tugging him under the safety of its branches, she turned and threw her arms around him, seeking the warmth of his body again.

"What – ?" Balan asked, glancing around with bewilderment, obviously not understanding why this tree would be better than the last.

" ‘Tis an elder," she explained. " ‘Tis safer. Lightning never strikes elders. ‘Tis the wood they made the cross – " Balan cut off her explanation with a kiss, his body herding hers against the tree. She could feel him still hard and hot against her thigh, and she sighed into his mouth, her br**sts pressing eagerly against him. They kissed. His hands caught the soft orbs of her br**sts and kneaded gently, and then he broke away to suckle at one as his hand slid between her legs. Finding her warm and wet for him, he left off her breast and kissed her again as he carried her down to the ground.

Murie felt the cool, dry earth beneath her back, and then his warm body pressed down on her, and he used a knee to urge her legs apart. She opened for him at once, clutching at his arms in anticipation and then arching and crying out as he entered her. All the excitement and passion he’d stirred earlier in the field of clover was immediately back, her body humming with eagerness and desire as she drew up her knees to cradle him, and she pressed her feet flat to the earth to be able to push upward and meet his thrusts.

The storm raged as they made love, their passion meeting nature’s fury and surpassing it. Murie felt the familiar tension drawing tight within her, and then Balan caught her ankles and drew them up to hook them over his shoulders. He then leaned forward so that he rested against the backs of her legs and his hands were free to touch her. He squeezed and caressed her br**sts, then continued to fondle with one hand while the other dropped lower to touch her again.

Murie cried out and covered his hand at her breast, clutching at it as her h*ps danced against him. Then the tension broke, a dam allowing the floodwaters to flow, and she screamed as her body convulsed. Balan thrust into her one more time, and then he cried out as well, his body stiffening against hers as he spilled his seed into her.

"The storm has passed."

"Mmmm," Murie murmured, and opened her eyes to see that the sky was now clearing and late afternoon sunshine was pouring down, though it wasn’t reaching them where they lay under the elder tree. She turned to peer at her husband and offered a smile as she rested her chin on her hand on his chest. He’d rolled them so that he was on the bottom immediately after they’d finished making love, leaving her to rest in comfort above, Balan smiled back, his hand lifting to catch and caress her bottom. Then his eyebrows drew together with concern. "You are cold."

"Only my back," she assured him with a grin. "My front is very warm indeed. You are better than a fire, husband." He chuckled and sat up, forcing her to let her legs slide to the side so that she sat up as well, straddling him, her body sliding over his. The surprise on his face told her there had been no intent behind the action, but now that they were in this position, his hands slid to her waist and he kissed her. Murie moaned into his mouth as she felt him grow hard against her.

"We need to dress," he muttered.

"Aye," she agreed, her fingers sliding over his shoulders, then scraping into his hair. Balan moaned as her nails dragged across his skull, and then both of them stiffened at the sound of a distant shout. They broke apart and peered at each other in dread.

"Was that Osgoode?" Murie asked.

Balan nodded slowly as a second shout sounded. He said, "And that sounds like Anselm. They must have worried when we did not return and started a search party once the storm ended." Osgoode shouted again, this time sounding closer. Murie and Balan scrambled to their feet.

"Our clothes – they are still under the tree by the clover," Murie realized with alarm.

"Which way to that?" Balan asked, his mouth pulling into a frown as she glanced around uncertainly. The word was almost a warning growl: "Murie?"

"Do not ‘Murie’ me, my lord. It causes me distress, and I cannot think when distressed." Huffing out a breath, she tried to recall where the clover patch was from there, then pointed and said,

"That direction, I think, husband."

"You think?" he squawked. There were at least six different voices shouting for them now, drawing closer all the time. Ignoring his scowl, Murie headed in the direction she thought the clover patch lay, aware from the muttering that trailed her that her husband was following.

They had gone quite a ways, and she was beginning to think she’d chosen wrong when her husband suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a tree.

"Really, husband!" Murie said as his body covered hers. "I thought you wished to dress. We do not have time to – " Balan silenced her by placing a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened incredulously at the rude action, and then she became aware of the sound of hoofbeats drawing nearer until they seemed to be right on top of them.

"Balan! Murie!" she heard Osgoode shout somewhere behind her, and then the sound of hoofbeats began to fade again. The next shout sounded more distant.

Balan did not answer either call. He did, however, remove his hand from Murie’s mouth, and he stepped away and gestured for her to continue.

Murie took his hand in hers and continued on. It seemed they had covered more ground in their run than she’d realized, for she was just about to stop and confess to Balan that she must have chosen the wrong direction when they broke out into the clearing where the patch of clover grew. Sighing in relief, Murie rushed toward the pile of clothes under the tree, but then glanced anxiously back toward Balan. The sound of hoofbeats began to grow again, this time sounding like more than one horse. Balan cursed, tugged at her hand and dragged her to the side and behind a large bush on the edge of the clearing just moments before two horses broke through the trees. She and Balan watched through the leaves as Erol and Godart appeared and –

quite unfortunately – decided to stop. It appeared everyone had been called out for the search.

"Where the hell have they got to?" Erol asked with bewilderment, sitting up straighter on his horse to peer around.

"Perhaps the killer has got them," Godart said unhappily.

"Surely his lordship would have returned by now if not." The two men began to debate the subject, and what would become of them if their lord and ladyship were gone, but Murie wasn’t paying attention; she was peering about the clearing, wondering where Balan’s horse was.

"Lightning is gone, husband," she whispered by his ear.

"Osgoode was pulling it behind him," Balan murmured back, his attention shifting from the two men in the clearing to the clothes on the ground under the tree behind and a little to the side of them.

"How did he not see our clothes?" Murie asked with surprise, but then supposed it was a foolish question. Erol and Godart hadn’t yet noticed them. Somehow, thankfully, Osgoode has missed the garments as well.

Balan quickly disabused her of the notion. "He did see them, Murie. Do you not notice they are all in a nice little pile rather than strewn around the clearing as we left them?"

"But why did he take the horse and not the clothes?" she asked with confusion.

"No doubt, because he expected us to return for the clothes," he pointed out. "Osgoode piled them under the tree with my green doublet on top to make them less visible, then led my horse away so that none of the others would see him and stop to investigate the area. He did it so that we could return and dress," he explained. "My cousin was no doubt hoping to preserve your modesty."

"Oh." Murie sighed. She seemed to have little enough of it lately. It was just days ago that she’d been forced to walk back to the castle nak*d, dragging her unconscious husband on the makeshift litter. Now she was standing bare-arsed in the bushes.

"Wait here."

She glanced around sharply at that whisper to see Balan already moving away. Holding her breath, she watched him slink along the edge of the clearing, sometimes crouching behind trees, sometimes crawling behind bushes and once running from one tree trunk to another; but finally he made it to the tree where their clothes were. He paused behind the trunk, peered around at his men, and then, assured that they weren’t looking, ducked quickly out to snatch up the pile of clothes and hurry back behind the tree.

Balan did not return at once but dressed very quickly, tugging on his doublet and then his leggings and tying them up before donning his boots. Then he paused and glanced toward Murie, and glanced toward the clearing and frowned. His expression made her examine the two men in the clearing as well, and she bit her lip when she saw that they were now facing the direction of the tree. There was no way Balan could sneak back without being seen.

Biting her lip, she glanced at her husband. The moment she did, he laid the clothes on the ground behind the tree, then straightened, pointed at his chest, then toward the two men in the clearing, then to her and finally at the clothes.

Murie didn’t have a clue as to what he was trying to pantomime, but she didn’t get a chance to clarify; Balan was already moving into the clearing.

"My lord!" Erol cried happily. "You are well!"

"Aye." Balan smiled as if he didn’t have a care in the world. It was only then that Murie became aware that his doublet was tucked into the back of his leggings. Groaning inwardly, she closed her eyes.

"My wife. . . will be along soon."

Murie’s eyes popped open as Balan almost shouted that comment, and she peered out into the clearing to see that he’d moved past Erol and Godart, forcing them to maneuver their horses around to face him. Their backs were now to the part of the clearing where she was. Her gaze slid to Balan again, and he gestured for her to get moving and dress. She suspected he’d done it once already, and only said "wife" so emphatically when he’d realized she wasn’t paying attention.