The Knights of the Public Realm Ch. 03

The castle was quiet, the servants focussed and busy preparing for the evening's festivities. It was the last feast before the games commenced the following day and promised to be the biggest event for years. Marquees were being installed in the grounds to accommodate all the local villagers that had been invited and the air was full of the noise of hammers and the shouts of organised chaos. The bustle meant that there was an air of anonymity, and Ann slipped through the gates without fanfare.

In fact, it was several minutes before she was noticed at all and a maid sent scurrying to her, by which time Pony had been handed to the stables. With relief Ann realised that Sir Lawrence hadn't raced after her, and she ordered her maid to prepare a scalding hot bath. Hungry from the morning's ride and the accompanying emotional rollercoaster, she slipped into the kitchen and helped herself to a plate of meat and fruit and strode off to her chambers, eating and spilling the food as she went.

Her chambers were full of steam and warmth when she arrived, the great oak door moving gracefully on its hinges, letting plumes of vapour escape. Her maid, Sarah, was emptying the last of a giant urn of scalding hot water into the large enamel bath that had been brought to the centre of the room. As the water continued to churn Sarah poured in some of the oil that had brought back, at no small expense, from a journey to France. It was a rare luxury for Ann, but one of the few she indulged in. The sweet perfume filled the air and the water turned pale blue. As a final touch Sarah added some blue rose petals and stood back, awaiting instruction.

Ann wanted some peace, to work through what had happened this morning in her mind, to try to rid herself of the deep seated embarrassment she felt, knowing that she would inevitably be dining next to him later that day. Indeed, her mind needed to turn to tomorrow and the upcoming tournament, for which Ann felt ill-prepared. But first she needed to soak in that hot bath. With Sarah dismissed, and the plate set to one side she shrugged off her clothes, used to doing this without help, and hesitantly stepped into the water. Her skin prickled at the heat but rapidly grew accustomed. Before long she was stretched out in the large tub, the hot water enveloping her entirely. She closed her eyes and let her mind work through the knot of emotions.

At least that was the plan, but as soon as she closed her eyes the face of Sir Lawrence was there. She was transported back to the barn, but instead of watching her, she was Amy, leaning against the hay bale, and Sir Lawrence was there instead of the steward. She could feel the sharpness of the hay in the palm of her hands as she gripped it tensely, awaiting his next move. The chill of the air on her naked skin, goosebumped with arousal. The unfurling pleasure in her stomach, her readiness for him. But instead of him inside her she felt his hand firmly in her hair, and suddenly his breath on her neck.

"Turn around and sit."

His voice was low, his tone offering no room for dissent, his strong arms guided her to turn until she was sat on the bale, his body towered over her. As he bent down slowly they locked eyes, Ann looking upwards, feeling defenceless. Sir Lawrence knelt, never releasing her from his gaze, not even as he ran his hands up the inside of her thigh and began to trace soft kisses there too, gradually, inevitably, forcing them apart.

Laying in the bath still, Ann became a little restless, her legs suddenly a little uncomfortable, the fire of arousal starting to kindle within her. A voice in her head decried her for contemplating pleasuring herself - about him - again so soon. But it was too late, his kisses were being gently, carefully, skillfully, placed and she knew that there was no stopping now. Her hand snaked over her torso and towards just where his lips were.

She had never felt so skilful, so attentive a tongue as she was imagining. As her finger circled her clit so did his tongue, elegantly arcing over and around it, sending sparks of pleasure through her receptive body. As her arousal built so did the strength of his attention, as if they were bound together, his diligent tongue utterly in control of her rising pleasure. Her legs were resting on him, and he shifted his position, putting her ankles on his shoulders, exposing her further. Ann gasped, even in the bath, shocked by her own imagination. But her hand quickened as she thought of his tongue drifting from her clit, downwards, over the silken contours of her pussy until he was drawn inside her. Her thighs clamped tight around him, around her hand as her body shuddered to a climax, her back arching as pleasure rushed from her core to every muscle and nerve in her body.

As she came and gasped she found his name on her lips, mixed with the low, muttered 'fuck' was 'Sir Lawrence'. And it felt good to say his name for a moment, in that moment. But now, laying in the cooling water, her climax passed, she reproached herself for such a moment of foolishness. He wasn't interested in her, even if she might be attracted to him in a momentary infatuation. She steeled her resolve, she was going to treat him with cool disdain over dinner and vanquish him on the tournament fields over the next few days. She stood purposefully, pulling the bell cord that would summon Sarah, who knocked and opened the door rapidly.

They both blushed, simultaneously becoming aware of B's nudity, although Sarah stole another glance at her mistress, admiringly.

"Bring me my blue and white dress Sarah please."

Ann reached for her towel quickly, but tried hard not to look like she was rushing. For once she was feeling comfortable in her own skin and the occasional admiring glance was sometimes welcome.

The preparations outside the window had come to an end, and the hammering had been replaced with the sound of the bad warming up and playing some jaunty numbers to keep the serving maids entertained as they began to dress the tables. Ann let out an exasperated sigh. She had been laced in and out of any number of items of clothing as her maids fussed around her. She knew that this was part of the process, and the clutch of women cooing around her just wanted the best for her, but would love for the arduous process to be over.

Most frustratingly her previously immaculate changing room was a mess of discarded accessories and accoutrements. How fucking hard is it to tidy up as you go thought Ann, immediately regretting her uncharitable thoughts, putting her increasing tension down to the importance of the next few days, and definitely not her dinner guest.

After what seemed like an age she was ready, Sarah announcing herself with her handiwork. Ann took a deep breath and stepped out of her room. Game face on she thought, steeling her resolve. She swept down the grand stairs towards the truly magnificent marquee, heavy with boughs of ivy and flowers, dressed as beautifully as she was. Much of her several villages were here already, making the most of Ann's hospitality. Wine and beer were flowing and the band was in good spirits with impromptu dances springing up wherever there was space and a willing partner. Her eyes scanned but did not find Sir Lawrence in the sea of faces in front of her. A strange mix of emotions flooded her; relief and disappointment. She was anxious that she might not see him, anxious that she might.

Mulling over this new sensation she ascended the dias and took her place at the head, as the giver of the feast. From this vantage point she cast her eye over the scene once more, her gaze resting on an attractive, familiar silhouette. As the woman turned Ann realised that it was Amy, looking incredibly well suited to the jade green dress she wore. Her hair was down in a loose plait that someone had woven a few flowers from the marquee decorations. She looked stunning and Ann's heart fluttered just a little more than it should.

Distracted, she had not noticed the chair beside her being pulled back, and she jumped slightly when she finally wrenched her eyes from Amy to see Sir Lawrence, gazing at her with a grin that might have been welcoming or sardonic depending on how you chose to read it. For fucks sake this man is impossible! Ann fought the rising tempo of her heart, the colour trying to come to her cheeks, to the building knot of tension and lust in her stomach. Gathering herself to say something entirely neutral Sir Lawrence spoke quickest.

"I owe you an apology Ann. I spoke irresponsibly, overcome by the moment and my...ardour. I placed you in an uncomfortable position and I am sorry."

Of all of the many things Ann had expected a frank and heartfelt apology was not one of them, and now she was entirely wrongfooted, her steely resolve found to be unnecessary.

"Well...er...well..."

She stuttered, unsure whether an apology for such an act was enough. Or whether one was needed given what she had done with the thought not so long after. Relief washed over as the band drew to a close and the village elder stood to give a vote of thanks to Ann for the evening's entertainment.

Unaccustomed as she was to hosting such events it had quite bypassed Ann until that moment that, following the elder's thanks, it was the custom for the host and chief guest to lead a dance. And as the speech drew to a close the suddenly realisation dawned, and with crushing inevitability the awful moment drew inexorably closer. Ann was an exceptional fighter but was by no stretch of the imagination was she a competent dancer. Many tutors had arrived with confidence and left broken by their students inability to convert theory to practice.

I bet he's a really good fucking dancer too she thought, knowing that there was no esaping this, hoping only for it to be over quickly and lost in the drunken memories of all those about to witness. There was a pause, the elder finished and all eyes were on Ann to declare the dance and choose her partner, which tradition declared would have to be Sir Lawrence. Reluctant she dragged herself to stand and, fixing an icy stare on Sir Lawrence declared loudly

"A dance!"

His face went pale for a moment, and Ann could've sworn that fear flashed in his eyes. Oh this was too good! Maybe he'll be worse than me! Ann's spirits were raised and there was no way he was being let off the hook. Even as he blustered and looked around for an alternative partner for her she half-led half-dragged him to the clearing in front of the band.

The band struck up, Ann cleared her mind and tried to recall the dance instructor getting red-faced with frustration at her leading with the wrong foot again. Confidently she placed her outside foot forward in perfect time to the music. Sir Lawrence meanwhile had, incorrectly, gone in entirely the wrong direction and, in an attempt to catch up with Ann had stumbled and fallen. The assembled audience were creased in laughter, as was Sir Lawrence, still on the floor. So too, despite everything, was Ann, laughing freely and feeling genuinely and entirely joyous. Maybe this evening wasn't going to be quite so bad.