Chapter fifteen

Avery leaned the pitchfork against the stall and stripped off the sweater she was wearing. The days were cold now, but she had worked up a sweat cleaning out the stable. She was just picking up the pitchfork again when someone cleared their throat behind her.

She turned around, frowning when she saw Marshall standing there. It had been just over a week since she'd walked in on him and Maya, and she had a feeling that Marshall was avoiding her.

"Hello, Avery." Marshall smiled at her.

"Hello, m'lord." She stabbed the pitchfork in the wheelbarrow of clean hay and used it to transfer some of the hay into the stall.

"Please, call me Marshall."

She didn't answer, grunting softly as she transferred another pitchfork of sweet-smelling hay into the stall.

"I was hoping we could speak for a moment."

She sighed and stopped, leaning against the pitchfork and giving him an irritated look. "What is it?"

He stepped closer, cracking his knuckles. "I just wanted to tell you that I care for your sister very much. I love her in fact, and I'll die before I hurt her."

She stared silently at him and he blushed a little. "I love her, I do."

"I never thanked you for saving Maya's life," she said suddenly.

He blinked. "I – you're welcome?"

"Treat her well, Marshall. I don't want to have to cast a spell on you." She gave him a mock

threatening look and he grinned like a schoolboy.

"I'm sorry I called you a witch. I know you're not."

She shrugged. "I'm used to it."

He moved forward until he was standing directly in front of her. "Maya is special. I just want

you to know that I realize that, and I'll treat her well. I promise you."

She smiled. "Good. Because I'm not kidding – I'll kill you if you don't."

He stared at her thoughtfully. "Aye, I have no doubt of that."

He turned to go and then surprised her by turning back and hugging her. She dropped the

pitchfork, wincing as it hit her foot.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Maya told me how you saved my life after the faerie attack,

and I should have said thank you long before this."

She returned his hug. "You're welcome, Marshall."

"Am I interrupting something?"

They broke apart to see Tristan standing behind them and staring at them furiously. Marshall shook his head. "No. Just talking."

He nodded to Avery and clapped Tristan on the shoulder as he walked by. Tristan growled

loudly, his eyes flashing green, and Marshall stepped back.

"Gods, Tristan. Relax." He held his hands up, rolling his eyes, and left the stable.

Tristan continued to stare at her, his nostrils flaring, and his hands rolled into tight fists at his

sides.

Avery nodded to him. "M'lord."

She picked up her pitchfork and piled the last of the clean hay into the stall. Her stomach was

churning nervously, and her palms were sweating. She had barely seen Tristan at all in the last

week, never mind be alone with him. He had done as she asked and stayed away from her, barely acknowledging her existence when they were in the same room and spending most of his time with Sophia and his mother.

She refused to admit to herself how much she missed him. Every night she crawled into her cold bed and did her best not to think about Tristan and his warm mouth.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked.

"Cleaning the stalls."

"Where is Ian? He's in charge of the barn."

"I believe he's helping Leo in the west field. I accidentally killed Marian's herb garden she

was growing in the window, and Mrs. Lanning thought it would be best if I took a break from gardening." She grinned and winked at him, trying to tease him out of his bad mood.

When he didn't laugh, she turned away from him, spreading the pile of hay in the stall across the floor. Tristan entered the stall and knocked the pitchfork from her hand.

"Hey!" She protested as he pushed her back against the wall of the stall and planted his hands on either side of her head.

"I thought you understood," he growled.

"Understood what?" She stared at him in confusion.

"I thought you understood what I told you." His voice was slow and deliberate.

"My lord, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"If you were in the mood to use someone, you were to come to my bed and my bed alone."

His eyes glowed angrily. "Yet I come in here to find you touching Marshall – hugging him." She gaped at him. "Are you kidding me? I wasn't in the mood to use anyone. Marshall is in

love with my sister and you know that. He hugged me to say thank you for saving his life."

He appeared not to hear her. "I don't want you touching him again."

Her own temper flared, and she poked him hard in the chest. "Stop telling me who I can and

cannot touch. And I told you – he was only saying thank you for saving his life."

"You've been naked with him before, kissing him, letting him touch you. Why should I believe you now?" Tristan leaned in until she could feel his hard chest brushing against her

breasts. She stared at his mouth, feeling the slow heat rising in her belly.

"You asked me to do that."

"Bullshit."

"You did," she insisted. "You asked me to save his life and I did. How handy it must be for

you to decide when I should and shouldn't touch your friends."

When he didn't respond, her anger got the best of her. "Ian seems like a nice enough man,

and we've been spending quite a bit of time in the barn together. Perhaps we could arrange for him to be injured so that I'm allowed to touch him."

He cupped the back of her neck. "Stop deliberately provoking me, girl."

"Then stop acting like a spoiled child whose favourite toy is being played with by another," she said.

"You're mine," he growled. "You belong to me."

He kissed her roughly, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth and shoving her back against the stall. She shivered, heat running through her stomach and into her pelvis before she pulled her mouth free and pushed him away with a hard shove. He staggered back, tripping over the pitchfork and landing on his back in the pile of fresh hay.

Before he could get up, she grabbed the pitchfork from the ground and pounced on him, sitting on him and holding the tines of the pitchfork to his throat. She stared down at him, panting harshly, and realized with a tingle of dismay that she wanted him desperately.

He stared silently at her, no fear in his eyes despite the pitchfork pressing against his throat, and she pushed her pelvis against the erection she could feel through his pants. She rubbed back and forth until a small moan escaped her throat and he gave her a predatory grin.

Still holding the pitchfork to his throat with one hand, she reached between them and unbuttoned his pants. She was wearing a long skirt and she tugged the fabric away from her body, letting it billow out around his hips, before pulling his cock free. His breath hissed between his teeth when she rubbed his cock against her and realized she wasn't wearing underwear. She was soaking wet, and it took just a small twist of her hips for his cock to slide deep within her.

He groaned and she tossed the pitchfork aside and leaned over him, taking his hands and pinning them above his head. She licked his mouth and then bit his bottom lip, making him cry out and jerk against her.

"Now you belong to me," she said before angling her mouth over his and shoving her tongue deep into his mouth. They kissed hungrily, their tongues battling against each other for control until they were both gasping and moaning. She released his hands but when he reached for her, she smacked them away.

"Don't move," she demanded.

He let his hands fall to the side and she yanked hard on his shirt. Buttons popped off as she ripped it open and leaned down to bite and kiss his chest. He groaned, his hands twisting into her hair as she licked her way to his flat nipple. She sucked it into her mouth, and he bucked against her. She bit it, pulling a hoarse cry from his throat before she licked away the sting of her bite.

She sat up, grinning down at him as she braced her palms against his chest and moved her hips. She lifted her hips until just the head of his cock was in her and then slowly plunged back down on him, rotating her hips in a clockwise motion as she did.

"The gods be damned, girl," he moaned, his hands sliding under her skirt to grip her bare thighs.

She grinned shark-like at him and repeated the movement, moaning a little herself at the feel of his hard cock rubbing against her soft walls.

"Please, girl," he moaned again.

She leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. "Say my name."

He stared at her and she grinned cheekily at him, lifting her hips until he slipped out of her.

"Say my name."

"Avery, please," he groaned.

"Please what?" She reached between them and took his cock in her hand, holding it steady as

she rubbed her clit against the head of it.

"Please fuck me," he begged.

"Soon," she panted. He groaned again as she continued to use his cock to rub her clit. She

was panting, sweat trickling down her back, as she writhed and twisted against him.

He reached up and pulled the neckline of her blouse down until her breasts popped free. He

kneaded her bare breasts roughly, tugging and pulling on her hard nipples as she rubbed herself against him. She leaned over him, guiding her breast to his mouth and he sucked on her offered nipple eagerly, licking and nipping at it as she moaned above him. He cupped her breasts, pushing them together and running his tongue from one nipple to the other. She was incredibly close to coming and she forced herself to stop rubbing her clit against the smooth head of his cock. She leaned back, staring down at him. "Should I fuck you now, Tristan?" "Aye," he muttered.

"Aye what?" She cupped her own breast, running her thumb over the nipple and smiling when his eyes went from brown to green in an instant.

"Aye, please! Fuck me, Avery," he begged again.

"Since you asked so nicely." She grinned and sunk his cock deep inside of her.

He cried out, sliding his hands under her skirt to grab her thighs again. She moved against

him in a relentlessly slow rhythm as he arched his hips up, nearly knocking her off of him. "Slow," she whispered, pressing her weight down on him.

"Slow," he agreed as she rose up and down in a maddeningly slow pace.

"Look at me, Tristan," she demanded. He opened his eyes and sucked in his breath. She was

cupping both her breasts, her hand squeezing and rubbing and her fingers tugging lightly on her nipples as she rode him.

"Faster?" she asked, arching her back and wiggling her pelvis against him.

"Oh Gods, yes," he groaned.

She rode him faster, her hips gyrating and thrusting, watching his face closely for signs that

he was close. When his body tensed, she suddenly moving.

"Avery!" he gasped.

She went back to the previous slow rhythm she had set before. He made a groan of

frustration and need.

"Slow," she moaned.

She was so close. The pleasure was building in her belly, her pelvis throbbed and pulsated

with need, and when Tristan suddenly growled and grabbed her hips, she didn't object. With a loud guttural moan, he plunged roughly in and out of her, and she was suddenly and explosively having the best orgasm of her life.

She threw her head back, her back arching and her body shaking as her orgasm roared through her in a long, continuous bout of pure pleasure. Below her, Tristan, his eyes squeezed shut, was groaning loudly as he came inside of her.

She collapsed against him, breathing harshly, her body still vibrating from her orgasm. After a few moments, he kissed her on the top of her head. "That was incredible."

She sat up, pulling her shirt up and straightening her skirt. He frowned at the sight of her pale face and trembling lips. "What's wrong, girl?"

"I'm sorry, Tristan," she said. "I should not have done that."

He sat up, putting his arms around her waist and kissing her mouth. "Aye, you definitely should have."

She shook her head and struggled free from his arms. She stood and paced in the stall as Tristan rose gracefully to his feet.

"No, I shouldn't have. I tell you to stay away from me, beg you not to touch me and then I attack you with a pitchfork and force you to have sex with me the first time we're alone together."

"Avery -"

"I'm going crazy," she moaned, clutching her head.

He grabbed her arms and shook her lightly. "Listen to me, girl. You did not force me to have

sex with you. I've been spending every moment since you left my bed a week ago, trying to figure out how to get you back into my bed. I swear to you."

"I can't keep doing this to you. I think it would be best if I left, Tristan. You could sell me to another or return me to the slave house."

"No." He shook her again. "You're not leaving my home."

"Please." She cupped his face. "We're both miserable. You know that -"

"No!" He gripped the back of her neck and rested his forehead against hers. "It doesn't have to be this way. Share my bed each night."

She didn't reply and he hurried on. "If the others know that it's your job to please me, they will not treat you differently. If I make it clear that you're to be my companion -"

"You mean your whore."

He winced. "Avery, it would not be like that."

"Papa?" Sophia's voice echoed through the stable, and Avery pushed Tristan away from her.

He stepped behind her, buttoning his pants as Sophia peeked into the open stable.

"Hi, Papa! Hi, Avery!" she said.

"Hello, my love." Avery smiled at her as Tristan buttoned the only two remaining buttons on

his shirt.

"We are going riding today, aren't we?" Sophia swung on the stall door.

"Aye, little one. We are." He smiled at her.

"You have hay in your hair, Papa," she informed him solemnly.

"Do I?" He ran a hand through his long hair, as his mother appeared in the stall doorway. "Tristan." She nodded to him; her steady gaze taking in Avery's flushed appearance and the

hay in Tristan's hair and his haphazardly buttoned shirt.

"Hello, Mother." Tristan had the good grace to blush a little as Avery looked at the ground

and prayed to the gods for it to open and swallow her whole.

Vivian held her hand out to Sophia. "Come, child. We will wait outside for your father." "Okay." Sophia took her grandmother's hand and blew a kiss to Avery. "Bye Avery." As soon as they were gone, Avery covered her burning face with her hands. "Gods be

damned. Will I ever run into that woman when I haven't just finished fucking her son?" Tristan laughed and she thumped him on the chest. "It's not funny, my lord."

"It's kind of funny." He grinned at her before sobering. "Avery, we need to finish talking

about -"

"No." She shook her head. "Your child is waiting for you, and I have to get back to the

house before Mrs. Lanning sends Renee looking for me."

She grabbed her sweater and gave him a pleading look. "Just promise me that you'll think

about what I'm asking. You should send me away from here."

"You would leave your sister?" he said.

"She's not a child anymore and she can take care of herself. Besides, you won't let anything

happen to her, will you?"

He shook his head. "No, I will not."

"Just consider it, my lord. Please."

She slipped out of the stall and as he watched her walk away, he shook his head again,

muttering, "No, I will not."