Jacq's Warlord (19 page)

“Aye, look at you, now, Davis. You look like a bush.”

“And you look like a sickly willow with barely enough branches to keep it alive.”

While the men joked, Jacq circled behind Rufus and Donald. “Stay here,” she said.

Rufus reached out and smacked her backside as she turned to walk away.

Flashing him a look that promised retribution later, she flounced away, overemphasizing the natural sway of her hips for his benefit.

Once she was beyond the edge of the camp she entered the brush, calling softly to Monty, Beast and Alfie. She told them where to hide, then cautioned them, “Now, be quiet and stay very still. I’ll call out to you when I want you to stand. We’re going to show the men how well the camouflage works.”

The boys snickered from their hiding places, then quieted again as she returned to camp.

The men had finished with their camouflage, and Jacq complimented each on their efforts. Some were quite elaborate, for the soldiers had gotten a little carried away.

Once again standing in front of the men, she called for their attention. “Men, quiet now. I’ve prepared a little demonstration for your benefit. But first, could you tell me where the boys and Beast have gone? I seem to have lost them.”

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“The last I saw they were walking toward the woods there,” one knight indicated the direction.

“It would be hard to lose Beast, especially when he is upwind,” Donald interjected.

Several men laughed while they walked around the camp looking for their missing ones, shaking their heads when they didn’t appear.

“Monty! Alfie!” a soldier called out.

“Over here,” Monty called back to him.

All heads turned in the direction of his voice. They walked closer to the edge of the camp, peering into the brush.

“I heard him but I do not see him,” said one.

“I’ll find the little bugger,” another said as he plowed through the underbrush.

“Come out, now. Lady Jacq is looking for you, boy.” But he turned back to the group clearly puzzled. “He’s not here.”

Jacq smiled. “That’s just the point, men.” When she had all of their attention, she called out, “Monty, Alfie, please stand and show yourselves.”

The men gasped as two bushes jiggled a little, then rose like aberrations. When the men looked like they might be about ready to run for the hills, Monty grinned, displaying a pearly white set of teeth, contrasting starkly against the blackened patterns drawn on his face.

“These boys were able to avoid detection, even while you walked right past them,”

Jacq pointed out to the awed group.

“But they’re small. Enemy troops would not be expecting anyone that small to attack their camp,” Donald, ever the naysayer, commented.

Jacq nodded, then extended her arm to the underbrush in front of them. “Beast, please stand now.”

Beast heaved himself to his feet, just behind the man who had beaten the brush earlier in his search for the boys. Beast tapped him on the shoulder.

“Sweet Jesus!” The man jumped, and looked ready to faint. The men sent up a cheer for Beast and the boys, congratulating them with much backslapping and laughter.

Jacq smiled, feeling good about the outcome of their little training session. With a clap of her hands, she gained their attention and moved into the next lesson—

infiltrating an enemy camp.

They worked all morning and halfway into the afternoon perfecting the art of moving quietly through the woods and mastering hand signals and bird calls to pass commands without uttering a word. The men were avid students and picked up quickly, enjoying the newness of their tasks and training.

Rufus participated in the training, leading his men by example. Every time he looked to her for instruction, Jacq’s chest filled with pride. This leader of hardened warriors followed her directions. She was gaining the men’s respect and allegiance.

And not a one of them teased her about her height or sex.

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After noon, they broke training to eat. Just as Jacq had settled on the ground with a chunk of smelly cheese and bread, a rider entered the clearing.

Rufus and Donald rose to greet him as he leapt to the ground. Out of earshot, Jacq watched as they huddled to hear the scout’s news.

A smile spread across Rufus’ face and he pounded the young man on his back, practically knocking him to his knees in his enthusiasm.

No longer content to watch, Jacq hurried up to Rufus to discover what had Donald and Rufus grinning like children at Christmas. “Well, what news does he have that has you so excited?”

“News? Who said there was news?” Donald raised his eyebrows toward Rufus, feigning ignorance.

“Hungry, Jacq?” Rufus ignored her question altogether. When she scowled, the louse had the nerve to smile.

“Good grief! Ask a simple question and everyone’s a comedian. I’ll just find out for myself.” She turned to follow the young man to the chow line.

A brawny arm circled her waist, and she found herself hauled back against Rufus.

“Hold up, firebrand. We will share with you.” When she struggled, Rufus tipped her chin back with a finger. “My, my, aren’t we in a temper?”

“Don’t play games with me,
Lord Rathburn
.”

“Don’t you want to know what the scout had to say?” His voice was low and seductive. He leaned close, his breath hot gusting against her cheek.

“You know I do,” she whispered, staring at his lips, so close to hers she felt dizzy with the need to kiss them.

“Ahem! Would you two like to be alone?” Donald passed within inches of them.

“No! Don’t go, Donald.” Jacq shook free of Rufus’ arm. “I want to know why you two were smiling. Is there good news?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” Rufus grinned at Donald as if they shared a joke.

“Would you like to tell her?”

“Oh no, you go right ahead, milord.”

“No I insist, Donald.”

Jacq felt like screeching with impatience, and her two tormentors appeared to enjoy her annoyance. She was starting to regret helping Rufus discover his sense of humor.

“Why certainly, milord.” Donald sketched a mocking bow. “You see Jacq, the spy we have in Braxton’s camp reports that he’s short of supplies and has pitched camp. It seems he’s awaiting a shipment of supplies to be delivered on the morrow.”

“And you intend to
redirect
those supplies?” Jacq practically bubbled with the news.

“This is perfect. The supply wagons must be close if they’re to be delivered tomorrow.

We just have to get to them first.”

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“We?” Rufus’ brows rose. “By we, I hope you do not believe the raiding party will include you?”

Jacq’s bubble burst. “Of course I do. This is what we’ve been preparing for.”

“Don’t be daft. You’ll stay behind—where it’s safe.”

“Why can’t I come? I can help.”

“Woman, I would think the reason is obvious—even to you.” He ran his gaze down the length of her slightly ragged gown and back up.

Anger boiled in her belly. “Let me get this straight,” she said, her voice dripping venom. “It’s all right for me to train your men, but it’s not all right for me to fight alongside them?”

“Exactly.”

“Bullshit!” The arrogant bastard. How could he leave her out of her first raid?

Rufus tilted his head, a frown dipping between his eyes. “I fail to see what the situation has to do with the droppings of a bull.”

“For your information…” Jacq pushed against his chest, “…your opinions are worth about as much as the droppings of a bull.”

Rufus stared down at her finger.

Jacq snatched it back, realizing he could snap it like a twig if he had a mind to—

which by his expression, he was pretty darn close.

“You will not accompany us. That’s the last word I will say about this.”

“Like hell, I won’t.” She turned and marched toward their tent. Over her shoulder she flung her parting challenge, “Just you try and stop me.”

* * * * *

“Lord Rat-face, you’re dead meat!” Jacq’s shout fell on Beast’s unimpressed ears.

His high and mighty “majesty” hadn’t graced her with his presence since he’d tossed her in the tent.

Pacing her “cell”, Jacq fumed, growing more and more livid with each step. When she’d tried to leave the tent, Beast had quietly steered her back inside each time. She’d listened to the sounds of the departing men as they cheerfully called out their farewells, but she’d stubbornly remained silent.

When she’d tired of the endless pacing, Jacq plopped down on the pile of furs.

“This sucks.”

They’d left her behind. Now, all she could do was drive herself crazy with worry.

What she needed was something to keep her occupied. She scratched at an itch. What she needed was a bath. Sanity through sanitary means?

With a very unladylike snort, Jacq lit two candles and stripped out of her clothing.

The night’s chill crept beneath the tent and sent a shiver over her naked skin. With one of Rufus’ bathing linens wrapped around her body and another around her shoulders, 106

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she poured water from the ewer into a basin. Then with speed encouraged by the icy water, she first bathed herself then scrubbed her undergarments.

Finished, she took the basin to the entrance of the tent, flung back the flap and threw the water out. She didn’t need to look to confirm her mark; she was satisfied that Beast was probably as clean as he had been since last year’s bath.

After blowing out the candles she slid naked between the furs. Her mind tried to picture the war party sneaking up on enemy supply wagons. How many guards would be assigned to the wagons, and why hadn’t she bothered to ask Rufus?
Because you were
so angry about being left behind, you weren’t listening, ditz!
As the hour grew later and the men still hadn’t returned, Jacq’s mind conjured images of dastardly perils that lay in wait for the soldiers.

Who was she to train men in warfare? She’d never been in a real battle in her entire life? How arrogant she’d been! What had she done? Sent those poor men to their graves, that’s what—wearing tree branches stuck in their clothing! All because she thought she knew better than they did simply because she was from a future that had the History Channel.

Panic rose like bile in her throat, threatening to choke off her brain. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself, rationalizing that these men wouldn’t have bought all her preaching if they’d thought her ideas stupid. Maybe, just maybe, their plan would work.

Nestled deep in the furs, she rolled to her stomach and willed herself to sleep, but each indrawn breath brought the scent of Rufus and the combined aroma of their lovemaking. Thinking of Rufus was an exhausting pastime—she was either horny, worried or madder than hell at any given moment. She had it bad.

Thoughts of their joining the night before brought all of Jacq’s senses screamingly alive.

Stop it!

If she lay perfectly still she might actually calm her racing heart. But the fur beneath her abraded her sensitized nipples and she groaned. She rolled to her back, and pushed aside the cover to prevent any further friction, but the cool air swept over the tips of breasts, tightening them further.

The memory of the touch of his tongue on her clit and the soft suckling of his mouth made her restless, and she felt moisture gather between her legs. She gave in to the mystery her body had become and felt for the creamy fluid with a finger, painting a trail of the musky liquid to the place where every sexual nerve ending converged.

Rubbing and flicking her clit, she tried to recreate the magical sensations Rufus had produced to fool her body. But her inexperience with the art of masturbation frustrated her. She widened her legs, enjoying the chilled air against her hot, moist pussy. She rubbed her open palm up and down her open sex and gave into the need to tilt her hips to follow the upward caress.

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More liquid seeped from inside and she dug two fingers into her cunt, twisting her knuckles to build a little friction. Rufus had screwed her with his fingers, just like that.

But his fingers were thicker. She added another finger and tilted higher to plunge deeper inside.

Jacq let her imagination fly, remembering the feel of his broad shoulders at the back of her knees, the glide of his mouth on her inner thigh, the soft suctioning of his lips on her clit. She plucked it with her fingers and felt the spiraling need curl tighter in her belly.

Her clit swelled and she pulled the hood back with her free hand and tapped the button of nerves. Her pussy clamped tight around her fingers and she stifled a moan.

Then she remembered where Rufus was and what he was likely doing at that very moment, and the coil unwound. She pulled out her fingers and closed her legs.

What good was an orgasm anyway if you didn’t have someone to share it with?

Damn the man for making her so needy! And especially for showing her how lonely her life really was.

She whispered fiercely into the darkness, “Rufus, you better get your butt back here safe!” Flopping on her side, she fell into a fitful sleep plagued with nightmares of swords slashing through armor-less skin.

* * * * *

In the predawn light, Rufus and his men thundered back into camp. Despite having been up all the night before, they were laughing and too excited to sleep. Everything had gone according to the plan.

“Lady Jacq!” Rufus boomed aloud into the clearing, anxious to see his lovely prize, to taste her warm soft lips and hear her praise for his success.

Grabbing a cake of soap, he shoved his hands into a bucket of cold water and scrubbed the charcoal from his face and hands, then went in search of Jacq. Surely she had heard him calling, why had she not come out to greet him?

Ahhh. She was probably still angry with him for leaving her behind.

He strode to his tent, flung the flap aside and warily ducked in. Having felt her anger before, he was on the lookout for flying objects. Instead, he found her sitting on the furs with her back to the entrance, combing her long hair with her fingers, stroking and dividing the long tresses into sections, removing one tangle at a time.