The Shrinemaiden (The Maidens) (19 page)

“I must confess that it all sounds very intimidating,” Adelai confessed. “I have lived all my life in the temple, and sometimes I still cannot fathom how money and goods sometimes change hands. It sounds like a more complicated process than it should be.”

“The more complicated we can make the process, then all the better for us to hide most of our riches from the tax collector,” The burly man told her, with a sly wink, and Adelai laughed. She cannot help but like the man, and wondered what it might have been like had she accepted his contract.

She did not have the same musings when it came to the Jackal. General Kazer was a tall, forbidding man who still wore his military uniform when he paid the earl a thankfully short visit. He brought no presents, and made very little talk, content to watch Adelai through heavy-lidded eyes while she chattered on about her life, her experiences in Arbentide so far, and anything else to fill in the silence of what the man wasn’t saying. The general’s eyes were cold, and she suspected that he did not take to her rejection as well as the merchant Enzo.

The earl of Sevrigne’s son, Daken, was nowhere to be seen most days. The young boy would only return once the evening had set in, though sometimes he would stay out even longer than that, refusing to dine with her and his father. The earl constantly apologized for his son’s behavior. Most of their evenings had been spent in discussion of the day’s events, and the man seemed to enjoy her company. Adelai knew that a lot of older men sometimes preferred a woman’s companionship over what other talents she might have in the bedroom, but that still did not explain the faint glint in his eyes when he looked at her sometimes. It was like he was waiting for something, but Adelai didn’t know what.

“I know how boys can sometimes act rashly,” Adelai assured him one night, after his realized that his son’s place at dinner would remain unoccupied for that day. “It might be best for now to leave him be.”

“I would if I could, my dear,” Allan sighed, “but I’m afraid my hands are tied. He has been consorting with some ruffians in the city; factions that do not agree with King Garrant’s policies, as far as I know. I have my own spies, you see. I do not want to see my son thrown in prison and executed for being easily duped by some rebels. I have a responsibility toward my son, and any actions he might undertake in the future will only reflect on me and everyone in this household. I was hoping,” he looked slightly ashamed, “if you could talk to him. My wife always had a soothing influence on him, but our relationship havs been strained since long before she died.”

“A mother is one thing, and a shrinemaiden another, milord. Perhaps he is angry that you asked for me so soon after his mother had passed away.”

“Ah, but his ire toward me has lasted for years.” This time the earl looked back at me. “I am leaving the city for a week or two for business, so I will keep this short and simple. I am not asking you to talk to him as a mother, but to talk to him as a shrinemaiden.”

Adelai knew what he was trying to say immediately, but it took her far longer to get the words out. “Milord, are you asking me to… seduce your son?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I hope you do not find this offensive, Adelai. But I have seen him look at you. In fact, I suspect that he leaves this house as often as he can to limit his encounters with you. As it is, all other alternatives are better than the executioner’s block, which shall be in his future if this continues any longer.”

So this was why he had chosen not to take her to his bed, Adelai thought. “I cannot guarantee anything, but I will do my best to talk to him.”

Gentlemanly as always, the earl walked her back to her rooms. He and his son are puzzles, Adelai conceded, as she retired for the night. And it might look like the son would be easier to solve than his father.

She was nervous. It was one thing to seduce an older man who knew what he was doing, but to seduce someone her age? She didn’t know if Daken was seeing anyone else, and didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want. But running parallel to that train of thought was the knowledge that Daken might possibly be in contact with rebel factions in the city. If she could find out more information about them, it may prove invaluable to King Belair. Flimsy speculation as it was, she knew she had to try.

While Daken might have been fond of traipsing in at all hours of the night, often as late as possible, he was not as enthusiastic about rising in the mornings. By the time the lad had sauntered downstairs lunch was already being prepared, and his father had already left. The young man stilled when he saw Adelai waiting for him at the table; his eyes narrowed, and he turned away.

“Daken,” Adelai said, trying not to sound commanding, but there was enough steel in her voice to make the boy stop in mid-stride, “I would like to speak with you.”

“I do not believe my father brought you here to ‘speak’,” the lad sneered, his gaze dipping at her breasts again, before jerking away.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Why do you keep looking away from me?”

He glared back at her, and it occurred to her just how young he really was. “I do not.”

“Why don’t you like me, Daken?”

“I do not like anything my father brings into this house,” he nearly spat the words out.

“Would you like to talk about it?” She could converse well enough with politicians, with nobles, with generals - but for the life of her she didn’t know how to converse with an eighteen year old boy.

She saw it again; his eyes traveling all over her body, that sudden spurt of lust rising in his eyes that he immediately squashed. “Leave me be,” he rasped, and fled.

It was, Adelai decided, going to be a lot harder than she expected. She knew, with that odd woman’s intuition, that Daken was interested, and that she was bearing the brunt of the anger directed at his father because she was his prize. She would never be able to approach him through simple, direct means like this, so Adelai determined that it would be he who would approach her.

Now that his father was absent in the house, Daken began to stay longer in the manor, though he still did his best to avoid Adelai when he could. Adelai settled this problem by making herself unavoidable. She would wait until Daken made his appearance for breakfast before entering the room.

Unlike her previous gowns, the ones she chose to wear now were simpler in style and design, though displayed more bosom than was her usual fashion. They were the kind of dresses usually worn about the house when there were no visitors around, sheer enough to accentuate her figure, to hint at the skin underneath the cloth. Her hair, normally perfectly coiffured, was loose around her shoulders and untamed. It looked like she had emerged from her bedroom, tousled and sensual, uncaring about her state of undress. Millie had been horrified when she had insisted on coming down, only pacified after she promised that the young maid would not get into trouble.

The ploy worked. Daken could not tear his eyes off her all throughout the meal, and dashed off as soon as he had finished eating. Adelai didn’t know where he went to during the day, but knew he would always come back in the late evening. By the time the boy arrived, he found her in the drawing room, clad only in her thin rose nightgown. Because he had to cross the room to reach the staircase leading to his, she knew he would have no choice.

“What are you doing?” His hands were trembling, and his eyes burned with desire. He was less circumspect about hiding his lust at night then he had done in the daytime, and his gaze raked over her body, at the satin hugging her figure, giving away everything and nothing all at once.

“I’m sorry,” Adelai said brightly, “I find I get a little restless at night. I am still unused to my bed.” She stretched slightly, then bent to put the book she’d been reading down the table. The movement allowed Daken a quick glimpse of her clothed backside, where the material of her gown clung to. “Do you suffer from some sleeplessness as well, Lord Daken?”

“No,” the boy’s voice was strangled.

“Ah, a pity. And I find I’m not quite ready for bed yet. Would you like to sit down with me, milord?”

Daken nearly ran past her to race up the stairs, breathing hard. As the door slammed somewhere in the upper landing, Adelai smiled to herself. There was something curiously appealing about the boy’s behavior and for a moment, she forgot about the guilt she still felt, at seducing someone so innocent. But duties were duties.

The next two days followed the same pattern. Daken did not immediately venture out of the house, but instead hung around as if waiting for something to happen. Adelai did not disappoint. She continued to wear her simple, unadorned gowns with her hair down, and was forever inviting Daken to have meals or tea with her. With the master of the house gone, they entertained few visitors, and so Adelai was free to carry on her current state of dress.

She sunned herself frequently at the gardens. Since it was enclosed, and the walls too high to trespass upon, she had taken many liberties, sometimes pulling her gown down so she could enjoy the sun against her bare shoulders, or low enough that she could expose her full breasts to its warmth. She knew that he was watching; she had asked the servants to leave her alone during these sessions, but had always waited for Daken to be in the room before announcing her intention to sunbathe, knowing he would follow to watch. There were a few telltale signs; the door leading into the gardens would move slightly, and afterward when she returned, she would often find Daken sitting in the room, pale and panting. Sometimes she would greet him, and others she would simply smile and be on her way.

Once, when she was certain that he was spying on her again, she began to pleasure herself. Idly, she allowed her legs to spread, a finger dipping into her soft recesses, ignoring the faint intake of breath she heard from behind the door, where she was facing, allowing him a full view of the golden hair nestled down there, her wet little entrance. She closed her eyes and moaned, as she slid her finger in and out of her, spreading her nether lips with one hand so her unseen admirer could see everything she had to offer. It was only when she made one last cry and spent wildly, that she heard him leave, the sound of footsteps retreating rapidly.

She knew it was working, because rather than retreat to the sanctity of the city Daken would no longer leave the house until after evening had already set, like he hanging around only to catch more glimpses of her. And when he did return at night Adelai would still be awake in the drawing room, clad in more sheer gowns and smiling at him like she had intentionally waited up for his return.

On the fourth night, the exertions of the day and the small hours she kept finally took its toll on Adelai. She intended to spend this night the same way she had the others, waiting up for Daken to return. But soon her eyelids were growing heavy, and not even the book she was reading, a fascinating history of the silver trade in Sarcopia, could keep her awake for long.

Adelai wasn’t even aware she had fallen asleep. She was dreaming about the captain again, imagining his fingers tracing their way through her stomach, slipping past the small shift she wore, to caress the yellow curls there. In her dreams, his finger was slipping into her small passage, light strokes that deepened as they grew surer, until her own hips were lifting in a bid to keep the rhythm. She felt herself moan, as the captain’s fingers sped up into the rougher thrusts she remembered and loved, wetness pooling around her skin as he sought to increase the pace.

And then the fingers stilled and Adelai groaned again, this time in frustration. “You little slut,” she heard him say, and then felt her legs being spread, the gown she wore being hiked up over her waist. Only still half—awake, she thought at first that she was lying on her bed, but it seemed narrower somehow. Her eyes focused on the ceiling above her, and just as she realized that she was still on the sofa in the drawing-room with her legs raised she felt the undeniable sensations of a tongue driving into her cunt, lapping at the wet folds there.

Her reaction was immediate, and Adelai bit down hard on the sleeve of her gown to stop herself from crying out and waking the rest of the servants. She was awake, and this wasn’t a dream. She was spread-eagled on the sofa, and someone was licking at her cunny; rough, long licks with a flat, moist tongue….

Her next cry was muffled, her fingers clapped against her mouth, but her lover didn’t stop, swiping against her small nub, even as the fingers inside her resumed their thrusting, making wet noises as it slid out of her, only to slide back in. Adelai heard another low groan. “Fucking whore,” Daken rasped, before lowering his mouth to her tight opening again.

It was too much, and Adelai found herself crying out as her body shuddered, an orgasm spiraling out of her. Even as she convulsed and shivered, the boy did not let up, only continuing to thrust both fingers and tongue into her until she felt the pleasure rising again.

Only then did he lift his face, her juices running down his chin. He spread her legs wider, and Adelai was suddenly aware of something hard and thick pressing against her hole. There was no mercy on Daken’s face, or even anger. Now there was only lust.

“Whore,” he groaned again, fervent now rather than accusing, and entered her completely with one rough, vicious thrust.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Secrets

“They say shrinemaidens are required to keep their patrons’ secrets,” Daken whispered in her ear, his hand running up her bare thigh. They were lying inside Daken’s room, naked and entwined against the sheets. For the past three days the boy had been insatiable. Nights and afternoons often found Adelai in bed with him, her legs spread and lifted over his shoulders while he slammed repeatedly into her, forcing her to cry out her orgasm within minutes. After their quick, frantic fuck on his father’s sofa that first night, he had carried her upstairs, with his cock still buried inside her. She had gasped and whimpered, as every step he took forced her to bounce slightly up and down against his hips, sinking down onto his cock and taking its full length each time. She could do nothing, could only wrap her arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as he stepped into his room, tossing her onto his bed and beginning a long, leisurely fuck that lasted until the early morning hours.