Sticks & Stones Ch. 07

"No!" Deirdre hissed in fury. "You convinced yourself I'm a witch so you could keep a clear conscience, didn't you? Has it ever occurred to you that your naming me a witch will cost me my life? Well? Has it?"

Rory shrugged as if he brushed her questions aside. "Calling names won't hurt you. When you're not a witch, your soul will dwell in glory till the day of the resurrection."

"I'm not worried about my soul. I don't want to die, not yet and not like that. You're crazy."

Deirdre wanted to circle back to the door that gave access to the rest of the house, but his strength surprised her. She could not get loose and she searched the shop anew for something to defend herself.

"I'm not surprised your soul does not concern you." Rory's face held a rabid expression. "That just proves you are a witch. You have very likely been fucking with the devil. Have you?" His eyes scanned her body with an unholy glow to them.

Before she knew what he was after he hooked his fingers in the neckline of the thin white blouse, tearing the linen and exposing her full breasts. "Has Satan been touching you like this?" His free hand clawed at her breasts, intent on hurting her instead of pleasing or just curious like before.

"Stop it! You're hurting me."

Deirdre tried to get away but he still had her arm in a firm grip and he jerked her around, twisting her arm to her back in a painful way. Finally understanding he was dangerous, she doubled her efforts to get free.

Andreas shot out of his current fantasies at the sounds coming from the shop. With three leaps he was through the storage room. What the hell was going on in there? He was surprised to see Deirdre struggling with a scarecrow of a man. The sight of her blouse, ripped apart, triggered his anger.

"Take your hands of her. Now!" The mere softness of his voice underscored the threat in it.

"I see you have already found another victim." Rory turned what he thought a comforting smile to Andreas. "Don't be afraid. I'll save you. I'll take her with me to Wicklow."

"Will you? Really?"

"Do not torment yourself. The church will deal with her."

"Is that so? And why is that?"

The look of surprise on Rory's face was quickly replaced with one of pity. "I see she has bewitched you as well. Don't you worry, the spell will be lifted once she is burning."

At those words Deirdre started struggling again. "No, you won't get me."

"Shut up, witch!" Rory slapped her in the face and turned to give that tall blond man a reassuring smile.

The sight he met left him wide-eyed and slack-mouthed. The man was furious and Rory could see the nasty poniard in his hand. He realized he was in danger and let go of the woman as he tried to back away.

"You shouldn't have done that." With his eyes fixed on the former priest, Andreas added: "Get away from him, go to the kitchen and stay there."

"No." Deirdre backed away, but she refused to seek safety and leave the trouble for Andreas to clean up. "It's my problem."

"Not any more. Nobody threatens my woman. Not even a boy like that." Andreas gestured with the slender blade in his hand. "Turn around with your hands to the wall."

"No, you don't understand. You're not responsible for what you're doing. She has put a spell on you. She's a witch. God will forgive you, if you stop right now." Rory put his hands up as if he wanted to pray. "Let's ask for forgiveness now, together, I'll help you."

Deirdre couldn't stand the sound of the zealous voice any longer. The self-righteous drivel that condemned her to a horrible death and tried to take Andreas away from her was too much. A quick movement brought her to the counter where she grabbed the yardstick. The stick hit Rory's back with a sharp crack as she swung it with all her might. He stumbled forward at a second blow and fell against Andreas. The dagger penetrated him with remarkable ease and his body slid to the floor in a pathetic heap of crumpled clothes and thin bones.

"Did I...is he...dead?" Deirdre looked at Andreas with fear in her eyes.

Andreas knelt next to the body, examined it briefly and nodded as he expelled a weary breath. "Yes. He's dead." He tried a smile but it came out a little awkward. Next, he used the nasty blade to slice a length of fabric from the nearest bolt on the counter. "Close the shop." Without looking to see if she obeyed, he proceeded to roll the body in the cloth. After that he hefted the limp body to his shoulder and carried it into the storage room where he dumped it on a bale of broadcloth.

He stood aside as he held the door open, waiting for Deirdre to precede him into the kitchen. He poured them both a shot of whiskey from the half bottle stored in the back of a cupboard. "Drink." He pulled her into his lap and watched till she had downed the fiery liquid.

"Now what?" She looked at him with frightened eyes. "He wanted to take me back, to... to..." He saw her swallow, unable to say the words out loud.

Andreas put his arms around her, trying to comfort her. "I know, I know. You had every reason. He would never have stopped. He would have turned you in without another thought." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "And it was an accident. I am only sorry I didn't do it by myself. I meant what I said. Nobody threatens my woman."

To his relief Deirdre tried a small smile as she turned her head to look at him. "Your woman, huh?" She brought her hand to his cheek for a moment. "I think I like the sound of that, at least right now." She shivered violently in reaction to what had happened. Andreas stroked her shoulders, then poured her another shot of whiskey. He took another one as well, this time actually tasting what he poured down his throat.

He was not surprised at her reaction. Although he had killed countless times as a mercenary, not even for him the act of taking a life was something to be dismissed. It had been inevitable however; he was convinced of that. Drumming his fingers on the tabletop he took another sip of whiskey as he pondered a wise course of action.

* * *

Deirdre sighed as they slipped out the backdoor, leaving the shop for an unknown destiny. They could not even say goodbye to the people they had gotten to know here. The only one they could tell was Conn, so Deirdre had left him a letter with a few careful phrases she hoped he would understand.

They had waited till dark before Andreas had dumped the body of the ex-priest in the water, at the bottom of the garden. He had weighted down the corpse with some stones, so there was a good chance it would never be found. In the meantime Deirdre had packed their sparse belongings. Her cherished herbarium, their clothes and all the food they could take with them.

Andreas carried his possessions on his body. He never went anywhere without the poniard and right now he was wearing his mercenary sword again. The weapon and his muscled body together proclaimed his profession loud and clear. He hoped it would prevent most if not all trouble on their way. "Our long way", he thought as he closed the door behind Deirdre and squinted up at the star-studded sky.

Together they crossed the garden that was just beginning to take shape, rounded the corner and, with a last look for the place that had sheltered them for the past three months, melted into the shadows. They took care to walk as noiselessly as possible till they reached the big inn at the head of the docks. There was nobody around at this late hour, so they crossed to the waterfront unseen and disappeared in the darkness to the edge of the river.

Just as Andreas had hoped, there were loads of small fishing boats tied down for the night. Since not everybody wanted to pay for the ferry there were even a few rowing boats and he was more than happy to use one. With only a few soft splashes they were out in the bay formed by the wide mouth of the river, on their way to the other side, to Wexford and beyond. They would try to reach their original destination, the port Conn had mentioned, Roslare or something like that.

Whistling softly Andreas came back to the headland where he had left Deirdre. He was sure she would be more than glad to hear the news that had greeted him in Rosslare Harbour. No need now for a ship that would take them on a journey into the unknown.

He clambered over the small knoll, anxious to tell Deirdre the good news. He was sure she could use some after yesterday's dreadful events. For the hundredth time he wished he had been the one to kill the priest. After all, it was his profession to end lives. Nevertheless he felt an odd sort of pride for Deirdre, his woman all right. Still smiling he gazed at the beach where he had left her, nearly overcome with fatigue.

Andreas frowned, as he didn't see her right away. It took him a few moments to realize he was looking at the wrong place. A few yards towards the sea he spotted her clothes, left in a heap as she had waded in. The only thing visible now that he looked, was her head emerging from the waves. He grinned as he made his way over.

"Mind if I join you?"

He didn't wait for an answer but pulled off his boots, dropped his pants and flung his tunic on top of his sword and dagger. A few quick strides brought him to the edge, the small waves lapping at his feet. He waded in, aware how her eyes moved all over his body, making him feel very welcome.

Before joining her he submerged himself in the cool waves and coming up again he pushed his wet hair back, licking the salt from his lips.

"You look happy. Found a ship?" Deirdre looked up at him with an anxious look on her face.

"No. There was no need." He grinned as he saw her frown. He let himself down next to her, settling his bottom on the sandy seafloor. "There was a lot of talk at the harbor." He snaked one arm around her shoulders. "There was this...Father Edward?" He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Seems he is arrested by the bishop's soldiers."

Deirdre shot upright, scrabbling to her knees as she gripped his arms and tried to shake him. "What are you saying?"

"Talk has it, he was a bit too fond of women, so he called them witches to get rid of evidence so to speak."

"Don't joke. I'm scared." Again she tried to shake him, but he didn't budge an inch so she punched him on his biceps.

"I'm not joking. It's true. He's arrested. He'll never condemn another living soul. Never. What's more, there won't be a replacement for him either."

"There won't? Why?" Still on her knees Deirdre focussed large questioning eyes on his face.

Andreas grinned. "Some monk or nun or something explained that healing was a gift from God." He gripped her waist. "Just like you."

He surprised her with a fierce kiss, pulling her between his raised knees. Only the feel of her silent tears made him finally stop. "Come." He scrambled to his feet and pulled her after him, leading her out on the beach.

The sun had warmed the sand by now and he sat down with the crying woman in his lap. Gently rocking her back and forth he comforted her, giving her time to come to grips with this change in her world. His hands stroked her back, enjoying the feel of the soft skin and counting the tiny bumps of her spine.

As she calmed down his hands lifted her face up and he wiped the tears from her cheeks before he planted a soft kiss on her lips. "You do realize we can go back to the shop now, don't you? There's no reason to run away." She opened her mouth but he silenced her with his fingers. "They'll never find the priest. He'll be washed out to sea with the next tide. And you've nothing to feel guilty about. He was going to get you killed. You had every right to defend yourself."

He kissed her again, this time a lot less gentle. It was like he was forcing her to go on living. The way he started fondling her breasts left no room for backing out. His strong fingers gripped her nipples, pinching them till they were hard like pebbles, sending jolts of pleasure through her body.

Deirdre moaned as she tilted her head back, inviting Andreas to kiss her throat. He was quick to take her up on her offer and her hands clutched at his shoulders as he kissed his way down, licking a trail from the hollow of her throat to her breasts, sucking and licking at her nipples till she was writhing in his lap.

He pushed her on her back with a possessive grin, pinning her hands above her head, trailing his free hand from her mouth to her knees and back up again. At the sight of her sudden blush, he threw his head back and laughed almost victorious. Losing not another moment he inserted his hand between her thighs, ordering her to spread her legs.

"I want to look at you. See how much you want me. You do want me, don't you?"

He knew she did from the way her body moved and her breathing had speeded up. Not to mention the fact she had obeyed him without hesitation, opening her legs for him so he could see the swollen folds. He sighed in appreciation, stroked the insides of her thighs and as his hand found her breasts again he dipped his head down to taste her.

His tongue found its way among the soft fleshy treasures, separating the moist lips, teasing her wet pussy and finally reaching her clit. He touched it with little licks, circling around it till she started mewling and bucking her hips. His hand came down and he inserted one, than two fingers. He sucked vigorously on her clit and fingerfucked her almost savagely, forcing her to climax with a loud wail.

Without giving her a chance to come down, he placed himself between her legs, raised her knees and moved his cock up and down her dripping cunt till he was lubricated enough. He entered her in one swift movement, burying himself to the hilt, grunting with the impact of his balls against her bottom.

Deirdre opened her eyes after the intense climax and gazed at Andreas, almost drowning in the fierce stare. She felt like she was nearly liquid inside, all soft and wet and open, welcoming the hard cock deep inside her that filled her to her limit. Welcoming the near brutal fucking, she recognized their mutual need to celebrate life. She grasped his face with both hands, pulled it down and kissed him passionately, opening herself to him on all levels.

Andreas saw the change in her eyes before he felt her body surrendering to him completely. It felt as if she sucked his cock inside her, working her inner muscles in time with his thrusts. Instead of tight, she felt hot, wet and soft, so soft he could almost cry with the ecstasy of it. He almost regretted it when he noticed the familiar tingling up his spine and down to his balls, heralding his own climax.

"Fuck me, please, fuck me hard."

Her words spurred him on and he drove his cock in as deep as he could, doing as she had asked; fucking her hard till he spurted his cum deep inside her, feeling her body convulse in an answering orgasm. He crushed her mouth with his, needing to fill her with himself, drenching her with himself.

Rolling on the sand next to her, he gazed lovingly at the beautiful body, splayed on the beach, glowing with life in the summer sun. Nothing would keep him from making her happy and he was sure she loved him too. He smiled as she showed him her satiated face. As she rose on one elbow, he cocked an eyebrow, curious what she was up to.

"I love you" she breathed and kissed him softly. "I really do."

One of his muscled arms came up and pulled her against his chest. "I love you too." His soft laugh rumbled through his chest, reverberating against her body. "We'll be so happy. I just know we will."

He couldn't see it, but he did feel her smile as she snuggled deeper into his embrace, determined to make the most of this day on the beach before they would head back home, back to the good life they had started to build.

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