Her reception at her father's house had been less than welcoming. Her father's anger at her past sins still burned in his eyes. Everything about Travor de Witte revealed the hatred and disgust he still possessed toward his two children for their indiscretions. As a child, Cayden had been his princess and as a youth his prodigy, but now, she was his disgrace. She had chosen her twin brother over the Baron Otto von Streit. In a world that believed that women were the source of all evil, the Lord de Witte believed that his perfect daughter had been the source of his perfect son's downfall. When she rode back into the walled courtyard of his estate, her father had for the briefest of instants looked happy to see her, betraying his love of his child, before narrowing his eyes and hardening his expression.
Reluctantly, he had allowed her to stay. She had been sent to her former room and had not seen her brother all night. The evening meal had arrived on a tray carried by a skinny servant she did not recognize. She didn't sleep well in her own bed. She hadn't expected her father to still be so cold toward her. Hayden had married a girl from a noble family. She had brought a large dowry to the de Witte family. Cayden's relationship with Hayden had not ruined him forever, so her father had no reason to harbor his wrath. If his fury was so strong, would he listen when she explained the Pope's call for an army to reclaim Jerusalem? Would he be sympathetic to Otto's need for manpower? The Baron needed her father to send loyal troops to the Udden Plain. She had six months to convince her father and Hayden to respond to Otto's plea.
The thunder of horses' hooves interrupted her morning reverie. She was seated in the center of her bed, her eyes closed, and her lips moving in prayer. She unfolded from her position and looked out the window into the courtyard below. A hunting party was returning to the estate. Her twin brother was riding at the head of the column. The hunters were quiet, which was unusual for a group of men who should be celebrating success. The hour of their return was also unusual. Cayden de Witte watched as her brother lifted his familiar eyes to her bedroom window. Their eyes locked before she could step into the shadows. She had seen her father's love for an instant at first glimpse. At first glimpse of her brother, she saw that the lust he felt for her still burned brightly.
She pulled away from the window with a frown. She would have to handle Hayden very carefully. She had to re-earn her father's trust and spiraling back into her affair with Hayden would not be the successful route. She was also aware that she felt no physical desire for her twin. She had been unable to think about anything but the next time he would touch her when she had left the de Witte estate. Seeing him from a distance, she had felt a fondness for him, but no urge to run into his arms. She would have to find ways to reject him without hurting him.
Cayden slipped into a pair of boy's trousers and a green tunic decorated with a rose-shaped crest. She adjusted a belt and scabbard around her hips and sheathed the sword her father had given her. She slipped down the back steps in hopes that path would avoid Hayden's entrance. She reached the exercise yard where her father had trained countless young men to be the best fighters in the kingdom without being seen by anyone in the household.
She reached the center of the exercise yard and took a deep breath. She stretched her body, focusing her energy for battle. She moved through a series of elaborate moves, practiced moves that worked the body through every motion needed for hand-to-hand combat. Her father had never allowed her to wrestle with the other students. She only knew the training exercises. When she had worked her way through the fighting techniques, she pulled the sword from the scabbard and began moving through preparation drills with the heavy weapon.
Despite her intense focus on her training, she was prepared when her attacker swung the first blow. She blocked the assault, spun, and knocked away the second. She easily countered the attacks but when she tried to switch to the offensive, she found that her opponent was equally skilled. She increased the voracity of her attack, pressing toward her enemy with a vicious snarl. Her hands tightly gripped the shaft on the rapier, swinging in graceful arcs, followed by a spin or a swoop of her body.
Looking into the eyes of her opponent was like looking into her own soul. She had always been able to anticipate his every move. As youth training under their father's watchful eye, their pairings had often lasted nearly half an hour with neither seeming to gain ground. It was on the training ground that their lust for each other had first surfaced. Initially, it had given her an advantage. Hayden understood the true desire motivating him to defeat his sister, and that had made him weak. Even though she didn't understand why her brother trembled during their battles, she had manipulated it and utilized it to her advantage.
When her twin had finally introduced her body to pleasure, their sword play had taken on new dimensions. They had pushed each other harder in combat in hopes the exhaustion or error would put their lust to sleep permanently. As their swords clanged against each other, echoing loudly across the courtyard and off the walls of the fortress, the familiar blood lust began to rise. Their mutual hunger burned in their eyes as they exerted themselves in an effort to be the victor. Their eyes never broke contact. They were familiar enough with the terrain and each other's ability that their peripheral vision was sufficient for maneuvering across the exercise yard.
Two years apart had not diminished their ability to anticipate each other's moves. She saw the familiar lust that had driven them to distraction burning in his eyes as he swung violently. She parried every thrust and answered every feint, her own desire well under control. For the first time since deciding to return home, she knew she was going to be able to control her body. He did not seem to be having the same luck. He was panting heavily, his face flushed as he pressed toward her, using his height and strength as an advantage. He finally pinned her against a wall and thrust forward with his hips, allowing her to feel the length of his hard manhood against her stomach.
They stood in that position, both struggling to catch their breath, his expectation obvious in his expression. She surprised him when she knocked aside his sword and spun away from the intimate prison created by his body. Their battle resumed. The echo of the swords clanging against each other rattled across the hills. They grunted and cried out with each parry and thrust, neither willing to lose to the other. She pushed him harder, hoping to exhaust him to the point that he lost interest in pursing her physically. Instead, her counter offensive brought his anger to a boil. His rage increased his strength and he used powerful arching sweeps of his longsword to push her into a corner. He stopped with the sharp edge of the sword pressed to her throat. She dropped her weapon to the ground with a clatter as she focused on the fire of hatred burning in his eyes.
He used his height to push her down, not moving the sword from the pulse beat pounding in her delicate neck. With his free hand, he untied the laces of his britches, pulling his manhood free and waving it in front of her. She tried to look away, but he dug his fingers into her hair and forced her head back. The movement opened her mouth and he plunged inside her throat. Afraid of his anger for the first time in her life, she had no choice but to close her lips around his thick root and suck. She wanted to protest. She wanted to refuse, but she was afraid he would plunge the sword into her if she refused to allow him to finish. He was thrusting his hips, sliding his root in and out of her lips, using her mouth with a violence he had never displayed before.
Her warm mouth and his eager, uncontrolled lust worked against him. He dropped his sword to grip her head in both of his hands, guiding her mouth on him as he drove in and out of her throat. She used his distraction to reach for the handle of his weapon. She pulled free of his hold as she swung the sword into a ready position. He stumbled back in surprise and she knocked him from his feet. He landed on his back in a cloud of dust, his glistening manhood still standing at attention.
She placed her booted foot on his shoulder and pressed the tip of the sword against his heart. "You should never go into battle without your mail, Brother," she snarled as she threw the weapon out of reach and released him.
"Finish your job, Cayden," he growled. "Let me split you in two with the only weapon that has ever dominated us. Bend over and let me remind you that your body will always belong to me."
She shook her head. "I've learned to control my lust," she answered. "I have been exiled once because of it. Father still looks at me with disgust. I will not surrender to it again."
"Then why are you here?" he demanded as he struggled to his feet.
"I am here as an emissary for Baron Otto von Streit. He has sent me with a message for Father," she replied.
"You have taken a lover," he declared, ignoring her words. He could only focus on the desire throbbing between his legs and in his soul. "Otto has finally seduced you."
"My lover is neither the Baron nor his brother, but yes, I have a lover. Hayden, I will always love you, but we cannot surrender to the yearning we feel for each other." She wanted to stroke his hair and offer him a kiss of affection, but she knew even the slightest touch could be potentially explosive. Instead, she backed away, keeping her eyes on his as she searched for understanding. He tucked himself into his pants and stormed toward the stables.
