The Lion of Kent Read online

  Robert gave a low, satisfied groan and eased back. William’s fingers slid inside, and the feel and heat of touching within his lord’s body made him bite back a sound of surprise. Following his instinct and Robert’s guiding movements, William thrust a few times, stretching Robert’s hole. Only when Robert started driving back onto his fingers did William stop. He scrambled upright, guided his greased cock into position, and leaned forward, his heart hammering with excitement and awe.

  Robert groaned and accepted William into his body.

  William almost came. He shut his eyes on the sensation, on the tight heat that grasped his cock and squeezed. He sank deeper, forgetting rhythm, forgetting everything but the splintering pleasure that seized him, starting at the base of his spine and wrapping around him, drugging him with need.

  “William,” Robert gasped. “Move. Fuck me.”

  William pulled back then drove into him to the hilt. Robert cried out, his body jerking forward. He growled and thrust back, impaling himself on William’s cock, and William ground deeper into him.

  William fucked Robert, or perhaps Robert fucked him—William couldn’t tell. He knew only that he wasn’t controlling this, that it was nothing more than instinct and feeling and emotion, and that it felt good—and Robert was shaking and crying out, heat pouring off him. William found a rhythm, taking Robert with him. They stopped the struggle for dominance and moved together as one, perfect and harmonious.

  Robert glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes shining, and William felt the sudden tightening of orgasm approach. He tried to hold back, tried to last longer, but then Robert laughed and squeezed again, and William snarled and shuddered and came in a glorious rush.

  Robert pulled away from him, the wet sound of their bodies disengaging making William shudder again. Turning onto his back, Robert put a hand down and grasped his erect cock. He jerked at it, bringing himself off again with frantic haste, his head tilted back and his body shaking as he reached climax.

  Exhausted by their battle, William sat back and breathed deeply. Robert used a corner of the woollen blanket across the foot of the bed to clean them both of seed, then tugged the bolster up to pillow his head. He indicated the space beside him, and William lay down. The scent of sweat and sex surrounded them, and the candle had burned low.

  William chuckled as he drew the fine linen sheets up over their bodies. “Never did I suspect that I would end the day as weary as I started it.” He flashed a look at Robert. “I hope you don’t do this with all your new knights.”

  A rumble of laughter answered him. “Truly, you are the first English knight I’ve bedded.”

  Teasing again, William widened his eyes. “But my lord, between Kent and the Holy Land there are many countries, all of them filled with knights…”

  “Fool,” Robert said, smiling. “But this talk reminds me of something serious.”

  “Ulric.” William went still, his gaze fixed on his lord. “What will become of him? Your brother wants him hanged.”

  Robert shook his head and stared at the canopied roof of the bed. “He won’t hang. If he’d succeeded in murdering Stephen, I would have had him killed without compunction. The law is clear on that. But for an attempted murder? Some lords would condemn Ulric to death in any case, but I believe it will be punishment enough for him to leave my manor. Ulric and his daughters are to be banished from here, never again to return.”

  William settled his cheek against the bolster. “He will take it hard. His kin all live in this part of the country.”

  “He teaches a valuable trade. Ulric will be able to find work elsewhere, and perhaps this time he will put aside the dice for good.” Robert looked at William. “But that was not what I wanted to discuss with you.”

  “Then what?”

  Robert hesitated, and William thought he saw a flicker of anxiety in his lord’s expression. “This morning,” Robert began slowly, “at the breakfast feast, the Viscomte de Murat told me he’d offered for your service. I believe he expects an answer by morning…and I would like to know what answer you plan on giving.”

  “My lord.” Ice gripped William’s heart and panic strangled his words. He tried again, his heart racing and all the pleasure of the last hour turned to ashes. “Must I join him?”

  “He is a viscomte.” Robert’s mouth curved in a wry smile. “A viscomte in high standing with Raymond of Toulouse, no less. He has more wealth than I, more connections, and—”

  “He is not you.” William stared at Robert, willing him to understand his reasoning.

  “Please don’t think me ungrateful. I’m aware of the honour the viscomte offers, and I would accept in an instant if—if…”

  “If what?” Robert prompted softly, his eyes gleaming.

  William sighed. “If we had not done this. If we were just squire and knight, servant and lord. If I did not…love you.” He gripped the linen sheet in his hands, wondering if he’d assumed too much from this relationship. He had to know. “You never did answer me that question I asked in the stables. Why did you choose me?”

  Robert was silent for a long moment, and then he said, “When I left Constantinople, I thought I would never find love again. I didn’t look for it, didn’t expect it, and yet after years of fighting and hardship and endless travel, when I rode into the castle yard and saw you bareheaded in the sunlight, with that look of furious concentration on your face as you fought…I thought, ‘Here is a worthy opponent. Here is a man you can teach.’”

  William groaned at the praise. “And yet I was angry and arrogant, and made a fool of myself every time I tried to impress you.”

  “I know.” Robert smiled and touched William’s cheek, brushed the damp hair from his eyes. “I asked Ulric about you, and Philip and Ranulf, and I heard the whispers…I needed to know if you would accept my courtship, unorthodox though it was. And the more you permitted, the more I wanted to take.”

  “I wanted it, too,” William blurted. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you.”

  Robert’s smile became a laugh. “Except a knighthood.”

  William ducked his head, an embarrassed grin spreading across his face. “But now I am a knight, I am free to choose my master—and I choose you.”

  “Are you sure of your decision?” Robert touched William again, drawing him closer.

  “A knight may choose his master, but he must also gain his own place in the world, and wealthy sponsors don’t come along very often…”

  William lifted his chin. “They will for me. They’ll queue up and beg me to fight for them. I’ll be the best knight in Christendom.”

  “And the most humble,” Robert said, chuckling.

  “I still have much to learn.” William grinned and kissed his lord, murmuring against his mouth. “And you still have so much to teach me.”

  Robert’s laughter filled the room as he leaned across to blow out the candle. “Sleep,” he said, “for tomorrow your training will begin anew.”

  About the Authors

  Aleksandr Voinov is an emigrant German author living near London. Originally, he studied medieval history with a focus on military history, but he then moved to London, where he works as a financial journalist, dealing daily with the feudal lords of the modern age. His professor would be proud—or horrified—if he knew.

  His genres range from horror, science fiction, cyberpunk and fantasy to contemporary, thriller and historical erotic gay novels. In his spare time, he goes weight lifting, explores historical sites or meets other writers. He single-handedly sustains three London bookstores with his ever-changing research projects and interests. His current interests include bonsai, tailored suits, chess competitions, World War II, Afghan history, Roman emperors and Russian oligarchs. He loves traveling, action movies, spy novels and ponders taking up boxing.

  Visit Aleksandr's website at www.aleksandrvoinov.com and his blog at www.aleksandrvoinov.blogspot.com.

  Kate Cotoner lives in the north of England with her OH and a
demanding bonsai named Mr. M. She has a fondness for Asian men tempered with a love of hunky Germanic and Mediterranean types, and she manages to combine love for all three types whilst watching Formula One motorsport. She loves history, needlepoint, reading, watching brainless blockbusters and meaningful foreign films, staring at U.S. crime shows, and baking French-style bread. She likes strong, plot-driven stories and charismatic characters set against a sweeping, romantic backdrop of history, suspense, international locations and whatever else happens to take her fancy at the time. Kate’s stories include historicals, paranormals, contemporaries and the occasional dabble into sci-fi, and she’s published by Torquere Press, Noble Romance, Dreamspinner Press and Uei-Shiang.

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  ISBN: 978-1-4268-9051-2

  Copyright © 2010 by Aleksandr Voinov and Kate Cotoner

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