The Red King (28 page)

“I will follow Rory. I desire nothing else,”
Andrew answered.

Malik squeezed his hand, sympathetically. “I
don’t share the inclination that leads one man to another, but I do
envy you your love. You are well matched. I will pray for your
happiness.”

Andrew felt his throat tighten, unexpectedly.
“Thank you,” he whispered, blinking away sudden tears. He took a
breath and smiled. “There are still more details to consider. I
should go to work.”

“Make it a good plan, Andrew. We are all
due,” Malik said, his voice low, before he strode to the
quarterdeck.

It was Malik’s quiet desperation that Andrew
carried with him into the cabin, distracting him from the buzz of
excitement that now pervaded the ship. His contemplation so
absorbed his thoughts he did not expect the arm that circled his
waist, nor the heavy press of Rory’s body against his as he was
pushed into the wall. He let out a startled cry but did not
struggle, only looked up into Rory’s face.

“You went to my men, without my knowledge or
permission,” Rory said. He did not sound angry, but there was an
edge to his voice that Andrew could not define.

“Yes, I felt it was necessary,” Andrew
answered, trying to keep his tone undisturbed, but his heart was
thudding in his chest.

“It is insubordinate, at the very least.”

For a moment, Andrew feared he had truly
offended Rory until he saw the gleam in those green eyes. He
worried his bottom teeth with his tongue, lips parted to speak, and
saw Rory’s attention drawn there. “My apologies, Captain. It was
not my intention to usurp your…” he paused, lowering his eyes,
“power.”

Rory’s other hand rose, holding a bright red
apple. Andrew licked his lips. Rory opened his mouth and took a
large bite, chewing slowly and contemplating Andrew’s face. The
crisp, sweet smell hit Andrew’s senses and the white flesh was
visible in flashes behind Rory’s lips. Andrew felt his mouth
water.

When Rory spoke next, the aroma grew
stronger, and Andrew inhaled deeply. “I could ration you; take your
food, your wine…other luxuries. It would be my right, as captain,”
he said, slowly, licking his own lips to clear any stray sweetness.
Andrew could not take his eyes off of them, now pink and damp from
his tongue.

“I will, of course, readily accept any sort
of reprimand you require,” Andrew told him, breathlessly. Rory
lifted the apple again and took another massive bite, leaving only
the smallest bit of flesh on the core. Andrew eyed it, reached out
for it, but Rory tossed it away. He gave a mournful sigh.

“I suppose the punishment starts with
apples,” Andrew quipped, his eyes returning to Rory.

Fingers slid into his hair, holding and
tilting his head back. Slowly, Rory bent to him, fitting his mouth
onto Andrew’s. When he parted his lips, he tasted and felt soft
bits of apple, slipped to him by Rory’s tongue. He moaned; the
feeling, both physical and emotional, of being fed the flesh and
juice from Rory’s mouth was powerfully erotic. He slipped his hands
up to rest on Rory’s chest and let him, each tiny morsel was licked
into him with tickling attentiveness. By the time the apple was
gone, Andrew was making soft, desperate sounds in his throat, his
hands clutching Rory’s shirt and his hips hitching up Rory’s
thigh.

Rory moved down his chin, leaving red,
stinging marks with his teeth as he traveled down Andrew’s neck and
back up to his ear. “Tell me, from the beginning, about your plan,”
he murmured, his breath hot when he spoke.

“Now?” Andrew asked, fingers twitching.

“Now,” Rory repeated, pressing his knee up
higher between Andrew’s thighs.

Andrew swallowed back a moan. “Sail to
Esbjerg, allow a small group of men to go ashore before the
k-k-keep,” He stuttered as Rory’s hand gripped and lifted his leg,
pulling their hips closer. “And approach it from the land bound
side. Ah!”

Licking where he had just bitten, Rory told
him, “You will have to concentrate during all manner of
distractions, Andrew.” He rocked forward and whispered,
“Continue.”

“All attention will be on the engagement,
allowing the group to enter through the unrepaired south end. It
will be a…ah, matter of finding Maarten’s chambers and eliminating
his guards…oh, Rory, please,” Andrew groaned when Rory lifted him
by using the arm at his waist and held him against the hull. His
toes were nearly off of the deck, his hands gripping Rory’s
shoulders for balance.

“Concentrate.”

Andrew bit his lip. “Kill Maarten and make
our escape.” He tried to gain purchase on the wood, to find the
leverage to push his hips forward into Rory’s, but could not.

“That’s all?” asked Rory, incredulously. “I
believed you had put more effort into your thoughts.” As he
stressed the word, he obligingly tightened his arm, nudging Andrew
closer so that their cocks rubbed together.

“Oh, I, ah, I need more information. I did
ask,” Andrew managed to say through clenched teeth. His arms wound
over Rory’s neck, holding tight. His pulse was racing madly and his
thoughts were scattered, but he closed his eyes and forced the
questions again. “By all accounts the fort is ruined on the south
end, was it ever sealed off? How large is his force and how loyal
are they? Does he keep vessel, a ship, for travel or escape? How in
God’s name are you doing that?”

Andrew had to ask, for Rory had found a place
between his legs, up beneath his sac and before his hole, and the
pressure Rory put there with his knee sent warm waves of pleasure
thrumming through Andrew’s body.

Rory laughed. “The
Taibhse
cannot sail
that far north, she is not rigged for the rough seas nor could she
carry enough guns.”

“If the
Taibhse
cannot be fitted with
the necessary firepower to attack the keep, another ship should be
acquired. By force, if need be.”

“And escape?” Rory’s mouth was ghosting over
his neck, his jaw, not touching.

Andrew sighed and went slack. His head fell
back against the hull with a soft thud. “I don’t know.”

When he felt Andrew relax in his grip, Rory
lowered them both, kneeling with Andrew in his lap. “A strategy
such as yours relies upon a quick, efficient attack. If we enter as
quietly as possible, while the ship blazes its guns, escape would
depend on exiting the same way. Coming at the
slott
from the
broken side is clever.” He took Andrew’s mouth in a short,
passionate kiss.

“It must be timed perfectly, but I believe in
these men. I would trust my life with them.” Andrew’s words were
soft, heartfelt. Still slack in Rory’s grasp, he rested back
against the wood and let his arms fall away. It was a totally
submissive position, allowing Rory to dictate what would come.
Andrew read Rory’s face and knew he had made the right
decision.

“It’s a good plan,” Rory whispered, the dark
center of his eyes spreading to blot out the pale green.

“I need more,” Andrew said, licking his lips,
“to make it complete.” He waited, leaving everything to Rory’s
control.

Rory shuddered, moaning a little under his
breath. “You shall have it. You will have it all.”

Then it was a hurried, frantic tearing at
clothes. Rory had Andrew’s breeches unlaced in the blink of an eye.
With nothing more than spit he pushed his fingers into Andrew and
without error found and stroked the nerve until Andrew was
groaning, saying his name over and over. Then it was Rory’s cock
pressing, demanding entrance, and Andrew gave it with a gasp and a
shout. Rory took him roughly, bent awkwardly against the wall with
one strong hand covering his mouth so that Andrew could cry and
groan at will. He spoke into Andrew’s ear with every thrust, a
litany of filth and praises, poems and taunts. They stirred his
body, moved his heart, had him twitching and tensing with climax as
Rory found his own.

Andrew was still trapped, caught between the
hull and Rory’s body, his breeches at his thighs and knees pressed
up under Rory’s arms. He panted into the palm against his lips, did
not struggle to right himself though his back was strained and
aching. He could feel Rory’s mouth against his ear but still had to
hold his breath to hear the words Rory spoke.

“It is a good plan, Andrew, but on one
condition I must be firm.”

Turning his head, letting the hand stay
pressed against his cheek, Andrew sought Rory’s mouth with his own.
“What is that, my king?” he asked in a whisper.

“You must not go.”

The pleasant lethargy left Andrew in an
instant. “What?”

“You are advancing quickly, but you are in no
way ready to face such a mission. You must remain here. Or with
Etienne, though that would cause me more distraction than is wise.
Either way, there will be no ‘we’ in this.” Rory ceased using his
seductive whisper and spoke normally, sounding every bit the
captain.

“So, this show of dominance was not merely
for pleasure, it was to assert your will over me?” Andrew asked,
pleasantly, even though he could feel his anger heating his
face.

“Do not challenge me on this, Andrew. Please,
I would not cease to worry about you and it could jeopardize
everything, cause more harm than good.”

Andrew took a deep breath and tried to
straighten. Rory took his wrists and pinned them behind his back,
pulling him forward and off the wall. They were nose to nose, eyes
locked. “I would think, Captain, that you would know not to
threaten my freedom,” Andrew said coolly, as if they had not just
shared their pleasure.

“Listen to me, Andrew, please. Think on my
words. You barely know how to swing a staff and you have yet to
learn a sword. What good will you be in taking a ship, or raiding a
castle? You would be in danger on all sides and I would be unable
to focus on the task at hand for want of protecting you.” As his
words ended Rory’s voice lost the calm tone of a captain and became
impassioned, even fearful. “It would fail and we would be
killed.”

Andrew felt him trembling.

“Or captured. And that I cannot bear to
consider.”

“I see,” Andrew said, understanding at last.
It did not quell his anger, but it did make his next words more
temperate. “Then we will continue my training. I will not be left
behind on this, Rory. I refuse to play the part of fainting maiden
or bloodless child and will lend my hand and my heart, gladly. You
cannot stop me from coming, but you can teach me to survive.”

“Damn it, Andrew, must you argue every
point?”

Andrew could feel his frustration and echoed
with his own. “In some matters, it seems I must.”

Rory sighed, loosened his grip on Andrew’s
wrists and rubbed them tenderly with his thumbs. “And yet you were
so soft, so submissive for me a moment ago. Would that you could
relinquish all control to me in this.”

“I think you enjoy the fight,” Andrew said,
lips curling in a small smile.

Smiling back, Rory shook his head, slowly.
“Perhaps, but your surrender today was sweet.”

“If I surrender too often it will cease to be
so. It will be a battle to the very end.”

Rory chuckled and leaned in to kiss him. “So
be it.”

There was nothing left to do but send the
Taibhse
to Algiers and await its return. Rory wrote a
lengthy letter to Etienne, explaining all. He did not expect an
answer, but was sure he would receive one. “I would not be
surprised if he returned with Malik and demanded to be included,”
he told Andrew as he sealed the papers.

“He’s quite brilliant. His input could be
useful,” Andrew replied from his place in the small bed. He
reclined on one elbow, legs stretched out and dangling over the
edge. He had offered what words he could to the letter, Rory had
declined any wish to ask for help from the man, but Andrew hoped
that unspoken request would be there for Etienne to see. “Could he
not find out more of the current state of Maarten’s forces, his
slott
?”

“He could, and he may yet, but I do not wish
him to put himself in unnecessary danger. He would be more exposed
to harm than any of us,” Rory explained, turning to face him.

“Isn’t he already? He is a known associate of
Ruaidhri
, The Red King,” Andrew said.

“Only so much as in business. Our…personal
relationship, such as it is, is still unknown to all. Except you,”
Rory said, putting up one foot on the bed’s frame.

“Why do you fight your affection for him,
Rory?”

Rory leaned back in the chair, quietly
thoughtful for a moment. “Etienne is a businessman. His motives are
purely for profit.”

“That’s a rather harsh opinion, especially in
light of his relationship with Fleming,” Andrew said, sitting and
paying very close attention.

“He passed on information that led to a raid
and the decimation of an entire village,” Rory continued, setting
the chair back on its four legs. “The information he got from
Charles, after a particularly vigorous fuck.”

Andrew paled. "Did you hold Charles
responsible for the lapse, as well?"

"Charles knew Etienne, thought him to be
trustworthy. He was bereft for weeks afterwards and it doused their
fire for one another, at least for a while," Rory said, his
crossing his arms over his chest.

“What profit was there for Etienne? What did
he have to gain?

Rory frowned. “He was making a deal with a
man to keep a particularly lovely girl in his stable set aside for
special visits when the topic of the
Taibhse
arose. Etienne
casually mentioned that we would be patrolling the coasts of
Morocco and the man went to Tunisia, to the home village of that
lovely girl, stole her sisters, and most of the other children,
destroying the town in the process.”

“Dear God,” Andrew muttered. He took a
breath. “The man was a slaver, wasn’t he?”

“He was, and even if Etienne did not know, he
should have kept our location behind his teeth. Our biggest
strength was surprise then; we did not have as much skill or
knowledge as we do now and we used the fear of our stealth to keep
some of those men at bay,” Rory explained.