AUTHOR'S NOTE: We are approaching that part of the story that will have you thinking, "What is this woman doing now?!" The answer is, crossing her fingers and hoping that you'll enjoy this part in spite of its shortcomings. :) Thank you for continuously reading the 'Courting Daphne' series. And thank you especially for bearing up with me on the long gap between the third and fourth installments of the tale. :)
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Daphne paced back and forth inside Leander Van Halen's tent. It had been a week since most of the army had marched with the general, and she was still stuck in the camp, guarded by what was left of the general's men. It would not do, she knew.
"How do I get out of here?" she asked herself in a whisper, dropping herself to the couch in order to curb her nervous energy.
Everywhere she went, there were always eyes looking at her. It was as if Leander announced that she was to be watched. Daphne frowned, not liking the way things stood. The stupid deal she agreed to -- and intentionally lost -- officially labelled her Leander's property, but she would not be the first person alive to ever break a word if she ever escapes, would she?
Thoughts about that deal made her pause. Heavens forgive her, but she enjoyed the way she had lost that deal. Even though Leander appeared to be some kind of a brute sometimes, Daphne was aware that he cared for her. Why he did, she did not know, but she was certain that the general cared, or else he would not have been so considerate when he took her that first time.
Or, was that just his way of getting his whores? Was that why every single camp follower seemed to worship the ground he walked on? Did he sleep with each one of them? And how about the female captives?
Daphne's frown deepened as she curled up on the couch. Thoughts of Leander sharing the bed with another woman irked her, but she was loath to figuring out why.
"Focus, Daphne," she commanded, speaking in a soft voice. "You need no unnecessary feelings getting in your way."
But, how she enjoyed his touch! Leander Van Halen was a skillful lover, she must admit. How many times did he brought her to orgasm every time he claimed her? Daphne was not sure. Counting was the last thing on her mind as she let him explore her private regions. The mere thoughts of that made her ache and wish -- however inappropriate -- that the general was here to help her get rid of the proof of her lustfulness.
"Daphne?"
She abruptly sat up when she heard a woman's voice coming from outside. She recognized it immediately. That invitingly husky voice belonged to Sylvia, one of the camp followers.
"Come in," Daphne called, straightening her clothes as she stood up.
Sylvia strode in, a beautiful lady garbed in rich velvet gown. She smiled at Daphne as soon as she was inside. There was an air about her that Daphne disliked, but Sylvia had been nothing but good to her so far and Daphne was not willing to discriminate.
"Come," Sylvia said, holding out her hand. "The men have prepared a sumptuous meal. Elgeshore has plenty to offer in terms of game. The men have caught a stag earlier this morning, would you believe? And they want you to have the best cut."
"Just let me get changed," Daphne said, indicating her attire. She was still in her nightgown. "I'm not appropriately dressed for any man to see."
A nod was Sylvia's only response. She turned her back on Daphne, saying that they would be waiting outside.
As soon as she was alone, Daphne began undressing. At least, Leander left orders for gowns to be provided for her. The finest fabric that the army seized from towns they have raided were made into gowns for Daphne. With as many as thirty pairs of hands working on them, she had a full wardrobe in no time.
"Too bad they all have to be left behind when I finally find a way to escape," she muttered, sighing in resignation as she walked to the trunk from where she had taken out all of Leander's clothes so that she could use it for her own. Seeing the pile of the general's garments piled at one corner of the tent gave her a sense of victory. "I will outsmart you one day, Leander Van Halen. I swear to the gods..."
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Leander Van Halen looked up and let the water of the falls run down his face. The water was cool, giving him the relief he desperately needed after a whole day under the unforgiving sun of the kingdom of Elgeshore.
It had been almost three weeks after he ordered his men to march west and meet the enemy, who turned out to be led by one of the bastard sons of Elgeshore's king. The battle that commenced a week after the march was bloody and brutal, with the Elgeshore army outnumbering his. But two of the generals serving his king heeded his call for reinforcement, and after five days of fighting, they won the battle.
Not that their victory was enough of a consolation for Leander. He lost four of his best officers and about a third of his men. Yet, he had let the two generals make prisoners out of the enemies left alive, taking only gold, weapons and other valuable supplies for his men before they were marching back to camp.
And, by the gods, how they marched! Even though they had horses with them, and half of the men could easily ride horses while the others walked on, Leander ordered that no horse was ridden. He did not like the idea of giving some men the privilege of riding horses and condemning the others to a long march on foot.
The march back was taking so much time, but at least there was only a day and a half of marching before they were back to where the women were.
At that thought, Leander grinned. Less than two days more, and then he would see her again.
He remembered how she was that first night. Her small hands touching his body, her tentative lips responding to his kisses, her virgin sex waiting for his touch. God, she was hot. He still wondered how she could have managed to remain a virgin for that long. Surely, he was not the first man to notice how beautiful she was? Then again, Daphne had always lived the secured life of a princess, until she ran away.
Leander continued to stand at the foot of the falls as he thought back to Daphne's sweet kisses, reluctant though they were. She would never admit it, but she wanted him. He knew it through every thrust of her hips, every moan from her lips. For when he took her at last, her cunt was dripping wet, proof that she was already highly aroused even before that.
Groaning, Leander closed his eyes, his mind greedily revisiting those moments he spent with Daphne. Her silky smooth thighs wrapped around him, the walls of her pussy clinging to his cock every time he drove himself in and out of her. She was so tight, so hot, as her body begged him to claim her.
He took her two more times that night, when she woke up in the middle of the night. Leander knew that she hated the thought of coupling with him, but she could not deny it even to herself that she wanted what was happening between them. She was a lustful creature, his Daphne, and he would try to satisfy her as much as he satisfied himself.
"Two more nights, my love," he murmured, imagining her lovely face, her gold-flecked green eyes, her luscious red lips. "My Daphne..."
His cock began to stiffen even though the water was almost chilling. Leander marvelled at how thoughts of one woman could drive him thus. But then, that was Daphne. Only thoughts of her could make him react like this.
Wading out of the water, he began wondering what it was that Daphne was planning. He knew that when she gave up fighting him and started giving in to her desires, she was up to something. It was as if she was trying to fight off her reluctance so that he might not suspect that anything was amiss.
Too bad for her, Leander thought; he was raised by a woman as sly as her. Her plans would just not work against him.
He was already back in his full armour when his second-in-command, Anthony Renard, arrived and saluted him.
"Evening, General," Anthony said, grinning.
