Part 6

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Genivieve lay beside her husband willing herself not to cry. Turning her head to see his slack form, sleeping and sated from hours of sexual cruelty, she sighed heavily and reminded herself she was but a woman in a man’s world. Gazing at the high post at the foot of the bed, her fingers tentatively moved to the harsh rope burn at her wrist as she mentally cringed. The last hours she had spent lashed to the hard wood were now over, as was the barbaric ravaging of her body. He was becoming steadily more grotesque in his libidinous appetite, and she was now certain of the reason. He could torture her body, but he could not break her spirit. She would never belong to him.

Gently sliding back the heavy warm furs, she slipped easily from the bed, the cold air kissing her nude form and causing a shiver to course through her. Moving to grasp her linen chemise from where it had been tossed, she noted that he was becoming sloppy. Never before had he left tell-tale marks. Tonight, a small burn remained directly above the downy thatch of red curls at the center of her thighs. The candle wax had been left too long on her skin and marred the smooth flesh ... a scar she would wear proudly, as it reiterated her strength. Stealthily moving to the anti-chamber, she closed the door and plucked a thick, woolen blanket from the wardrobe, pulling it over her shoulders as she entered the hallway and ambled through the darkened corridor. In his younger years, she would have checked on Johns. These days, she thought it best to be ignorant as to his proceedings. Thus, she found herself at his door … the door of her husband’s friend … his brother … Richard Riddick. She was surprised to find that

Riddick lay in the throws of yet another nightmare, the battlefield filling his mind, death raining around him. His skin cold, his blood hot and pumping in a fast torrent through his veins as he fought his way through the masses of men, fought his way to his son. "JOHNS!" The strangled yell purged from his throat as he bolted upright in the bed, massive fists clutched at his sides.

Sadness formed inside Genivieve as she realized how selfish her thoughts were … carnal and lascivious, when this poor man needed tenderness and compassion. Rushing to the edge of the bed and letting the blanket fall from her shoulders to the floor, she sat beside him, her small, delicate hands caressing the hard, tense muscle of his shoulder. Her other hand moved to stroke his smooth, velvety head. "Dear Riddick, your son is well! He sleeps soundly in his chambers." The feel of his shorn head captivated her hand. "He is safe, as are you."

Riddick brought his hand up and it across his sweat sheened face, shaking off the blood -chilling nightmare. It was then that he realized he wasn't alone … that hands were soothing him. "Johns? Are you certain?"

She moved to pour him some mead from the carafe nearby, her thin linen chemise flowing behind her. Returning to the bed … she stood beside him offering the drink. "Sooth your fears. He is well."

"No." He pushed away the vessel, glancing up to her. Pushing from the bed, he stood, nude, with his back to her, the fading fire causing a glow across him skin. "Should you not be warming your husband's bed, my lady?"

She took several steps back from the bed as he waved away the mead, a light blush painting her cheeks as she remembered the savagery of the previous hours. "Lord Duncan has used me for his purposes and now sleeps soundly, warming his bed with his slumber." As she replaced the goblet on the table, she gazed at his back, her eyes trailing along the muscular spine to fix on the well formed and tightly muscled buttocks on the handsome man. She felt her breasts tingle to life as her tongue trailed her full bottom lip. The urge to fondle and knead the smooth globes he presented to her was great and she had to turn her gaze away.

He turned presenting her with his silhouette as he moved across the room, his hands bracing his body against the hearth. "He was cruel to you." He turned his head, eyes boring into hers.

It was a difficult question to answer. This poor man had already lost so much in his life, she did not wish to be the cause of him losing his clans brother. She tried to still her beating heart at the glimpse of his large manhood she received as he moved. Her eyes flicked to his and stayed bound there. Easing closer to the hearth, she stood nearer the warm fire which was now fading … but there was enough light to render her nightshift transparent, her jutting breast bouncing slightly underneath as she swayed. "For better or worse, I am his wife, to use as he desires. I have become immune to his idiosyncrasies." Just then she brushed a thick red curl from her forehead, the rope burns on her wrist slightly visible in the very dim light.

Riddick's hand snaked out the second he noticed the chaffing of her skin, the tiny seeping wounds. "I'll not stand by while he treats you with such disregard. I had a wife once...." His heavy breath fanned across her face. "I treated her well in our bed."

"I have little doubt, Riddick, that your wife was the luckiest of women to have been privy to your bed … as well as your love." Eyes wide, her breathing was reduced to mere pants as her fingers splayed across his hard, naked chest. "As for the marks … ‘tis only his exuberance, mi’lord," she whispered, thick lashes falling at half-mast as her fingers gently caressed. "He is your clansman. I would not for the world cause strife betwixt the two of you." Fingers moved to his strong shoulder and upward to stroke his stubble roughened cheek lightly.

Her touch was salve to his battle weary body, food for his starved heart and soul. There was a leap in his pulse, a quickening in his groin. "I never loved her. I never loved Mary," he ground out, willing her eyes to his. "What will come between Duncan and I can not be helped. There is little that I do not find issue with at my return. This is one of them." He turned fully to her dragging her towards his hard chest, lifting her off her feet. "Women are made for loving. A lesson Duncan has failed to learn."

Her arms wrapped around his neck, toes dangling in suspension as her eyes locked to his. "You are indeed a novel man in the midst of a world filled with Duncans." She leaned in, her lips practically touching the rim of his ear as she softly spoke. "Do not make war with your brother because of me." Lifting her body slightly in his arms, her long, slender legs wrapped around his bare hips, ankles locking at the base of his strong back, gauzy fabric floating down his thigh. She felt his heat and forming perspiration through the thin material of her shift as she pressed herself to his hard being.

"There could be no better reason." His voice was raspy and low, his hard length pressed between them. Pushing up the fabric to the middle of her back, he grasped the firm rounded globes as he sat on the edge of the massive bed, her astride him.

Rough, yet tender hands caressing her buttocks sent erotic tremors shooting through her has straight and true as any arrow. She found herself writhing … grinding against the steely rigidity of his manhood like the downstairs maid she so often found Duncan with. Never before had she experienced this desire … this need. Wetter and wetter she found herself becoming as she moved her hips in large circles against his pulsing shaft … and she found herself holding in tears of happiness that she could feel so erotic a sensation with this man. Yet she clamped her mouth shut, afraid of ruining this sensuous moment with words.

He watched her, pleasure lighting her features. Blood pounded into his full erect member with the erotic sight. It was clear she'd never received pleasure from a man in such ways. One hand freed, he pushed the fragile fabric from her shoulders, exposing her full pale breast. It was more of a feast than had ever been set before him and he sampled it with flourish. Dipping his head, he began to suckle her tight pink nipple.

"How is it, Lord Riddick," she breathed erratically as she allowed her hand to again stroke the velvety smoothness of his head, pressing his mouth even closer. "How is it that a pressure so forceful … so powerful … can be so filled with pleasure, not pain." Her hips continued to rub at his powerfully stiff manhood … and then her eyes flew open, her mouth forming a tiny circle. " Oh …….Riddick ……" she yelped feeling the convulsions in the center of feminine core. Never had she felt such, and it both terrified and excited her as she dug her nails into the flesh of his shoulders.

With the roll of her smooth, near concave stomach he reached between her thighs and parted her fleshy wet lips gently pulling at the soft swollen nub there until he was sure she was deep in the throws of womanly bliss. "A man that possesses true power and true strength is tempered with a gentle hand when he beds a woman, he knows to pleasure so the time together will be ever sweeter," he growled against her. Turning his head, his tongue flicked out teasing her peaked breast, his hand clutching the base of his manhood as he guided himself home. Burying himself inch by slow inch was a different sort of torture but he endure it gladly, moaning his pleasured pain the whole while.

Her breath still as she felt her feminine lips suction around the long girth of his proudly pulsing cock pulling him deeper inside her body with a well formed muscle contraction. Her eyes closed as she then began to move atop him. Stirring slowly and gently at first, her movements soon quickened to ride him hard and fast, ignoring the ever so slight pain she felt as his pelvic skin would come into contact with the small burned area above her triangle as she pounded her body hard against his. A scream threatened to rip through her being and she stalled it, her mouth flying to his shoulder and teeth sinking harshly into the smooth male skin there. Thrilling at the slightly salty taste of his skin, she began to suckle and bite like a woman dying of thirst, inadvertently marking his body with her teeth and tongue.

Riddick took the punishment without complaint, took it inside and let it urge him more quickly into her body, filling her until he beat against her womb. Throwing his head back he felt the hot boil of his seed traveling his shaft. His hard muscular flanks tensed as he buried his face in her hair near her ear. "This is what loving is to be."

Her hands reached down grasping the flesh of his tensed globes, squeezing hard as she felt the violent orgasm that caused her body to convulse onto his steely shaft over and over again, her head thrown back, flaming red curls tossing wildly. With great effort, she eased her head on his shoulder, tears welling in her eyes as she tried desperately to speak. "Mary … received this … often?" She had never known Mary well. But here, with the woman’s husband body working miracles inside her, she was suddenly filled with jealousy for the woman.

"As often as I was in need of her," he whispered along her damp skin, dragging in a ragged breath.

"And … that was … often, no?" Her raspy words were filled with understanding … knowing that a man such as he would be as insatiable as her husband for the body of a woman.

"The number of times I could count upon one hand," he relied, running his tongue along the column of her neck. "Johns was conceived the first night I lay with her."

A slight wave of disappointment flooded her being at the concept that his desire was so spasmodic. But she quickly set aside that thought as she remembered he was not hers … only using the body she so willingly gave to him. "She must have been very contented being loved in this fashion by you." She wanted him to be happy with this bedding … be sated and fulfilled. Being used to only one form of sexual appetite and wanting nothing more than to please this man inside her, she moved her face to his ear and whispered almost timidly, "Would you care to strap me now, mi’lord?" She leaned back from his chest and tentatively held her wrists to him, eyes lowered, yet filled with a newly found desire.

Growling, Riddick pulled her slightly away from him . "There'll be no strapping tonight. Not with me." He stood lifting her with him and turning to lay her gently on the bed. It was then, when the fabric of her shift floated up, he noticed the angry read burn just above her pelvis. "He did this while taking his pleasure?"

Her hands smoothed across his chest as thrust her hips from the bed, careful not to let herself become comfortable, as she had been taught by Duncan. "It’s just from the candle wax … too much that time." She noticed the growing emotion in his eyes. Could it be ignorance? She looked at him in confusion … surly a man as knowledgeable of a woman’s body as he would know the reason? "The heated wax assures that my body will writhe as violently as desired." She began to lift from the bed. "Shall I light a candle?"

"No," he barked, his voice near booming in the quite chamber. He stepped away from the bed turning back to the fire.

She jumped at his voice, grasping the furs on the bed and attempting to cover her body as she scooted her back to the massive headboard of the large bed. Her knees drew to her chest. "Please do not be angry with me, mi’lord," she breathed. "I want only to please you."

"You may go," he sighed, frustrated and sick at heart. He'd tried to show her the gentleness of his touch, tried to show her the pleasures to be had by a man and women. He cared for her, that he could not deny. But he would not die slowly for a woman who could never see him as nothing more than Duncan, all the brutality and the selfishness.

At that moment, she felt an ache grow inside her that she had never experience before. Standing from the high bed, she slipped her feet to the floor and moved to him, her hands gently smoothing across the tense muscles of his back. "As you wish," she whispered in raspy tones. Letting her hand fall, she moved slowly to straighten her shift and reluctantly pad across the floor. Stalling at the door, she turned over her shoulder and looked again on his naked form, feeling both desire and heartache well inside her.

"I could love you," his voice was low and raspy with emotion, but still he refused to look at her.

"And I would willingly give you my heart. Something I have never thought to do before in my life." With a heavy sigh, she bent to take the blanket she had tossed onto the floor. Hand on the heavy latch, she caught her breath. "Please know this …" she said softly. "I am his wife. I am YOUR woman. If not in your mind … then only in my heart." And with that, she pulled opened the heavy door and gazed in all directions before slipping into the darkness of the corridor.

In the darkened corridor eyes watched her retreat from the room, her feet silently padding through the keep. Detaching from the surrounding blackness, Johns looked back to the door from which she emerged. He had seen it all, his father making love to Duncan's wife. With a secretive smile he strode down the hall with a purpose, with a secret.

Part 7
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Riddick swung the heavy ax over his head dropping it with a force that would surely shatter most trees but only scored the massive log below. One of many logs that would be used to rebuild Dovanshire. His bare chest and back glistened with a sheen of sweat from the brief exposure to day's sunlight.
 
With a deliberate slowness Guenivere moved into view, her fiery red curls being teased by light breeze.  Her eyes stayed fixed on his form as she stopped in front of the log, her royal blue tunic tickling around her ankles.  "You are the heart of this land, mi'lord.  It will live again because of you."
 
"Aye, it will," he replied, with a deliberate curtness. His thick arms creating another arch with the ax sending wood debris flying outwards. Fixing his attention on the log and nothing else, he tried to erase the images of the night they had spent together weeks earlier that were created with just simple sound of her voice. But he was failing miserably, another hard thwack of the ax and he was still feeling her presence bone deep.
 
Brushing her hair from her face, she stepped toward the log placing herself in the line of danger in an attempt to force his attention onto her.  "Riddick … we must speak of it."  His brawny, masculine form had her heart racing … her mind reeling.
 
"Why must we?" He dropped the head of the ax into the ground inches beside her, anger shinning bright in his eyes. "You have a husband, Guenivere." He said it, purging some of the vemon and pain inside him.
 
She swallowed the lump in her throat as she moved to lay a hand on his strong bicep.  "Because I have fallen in love with my husband's clansman."  She ran a nervous tongue across her almost trembling lips.  "Because you showed me the beginning of what loving can be between a man and a woman and I thirst to learn more."  She hid the tears that formed in her eyes.  "You feel it as well.  I know this."
 
Riddick shoved the wooden handle away from him.  Turning, he strode a short distance away, his hand running over his shorn head. "I feel it," he admitted, his gut twisting painfully with his words.
 
"Then why is it so distasteful now?  It was pleasurable to you that night.  As it was to me."  She knew that she was close to humiliating herself by begging, and she had sworn not to let him see her do such.  She moved to sit gracefully on the fallen log, her shoulders lifting and falling in a gentle sigh.  "I was presented to him by my father.  I never gave myself to him."  She lowered her eyes.  "I never knew what it was to feel desire until I saw you enter the great hall.  And then I lost my heart."
 
"Are you so sure?"  He turned on her, his eyes loosing some of the spiteful anger.  "Are you sure that I'm the one that's in your heart?" he questioned, opening slowly to the possibility  "How do you know what it is to loose your heart?"
 
Her voice took on a soft, husky tone as her eyes lit with a dreamy sparkle.  "How does one know how to breath or that the tide will come in?"  She smiled tentatively, her hands trembling with suppressed passion.  "You are the last thing I think of when I lay down to rest and the first thing I think of when I rise in the morn."  She stood and moved to stand behind him, her hand splaying across his immense back.  "I trust you … want to make you happy because I know that you want to make me happy."  She leaned in, pressing her cheek against his back.  "I simply know, Riddick."
 
With a feral growl he turned, taking her arm in his grasp and tugging her along with him, pulling her along to the freshly rebuilt stable. His body betrayed him all the while, his blood pumping hard and hot through him and once inside, away from prying eyes, he backed her against the far wall. "I know but one thing, Mi'lady...." he breathed against her warm pink lips. "I know that I will never have enough of you. Aye, you're in my heart. A place no one has invaded thus far, but I find you there now. Filling me with all a man can ever want."
 
'I have no care for other men, Riddick," she whispered as she trailed her hands round his neck and pressed her body erotically close to his, the hardness of his rigid manhood firm against her flat, trembling stomach.  "I care only for you."  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.  Not the kiss of a woman forced by a man, but the kiss of a woman that revealed in her lover's touch.  The heated wetness at the core of her being was now becoming more and more familiar … it occurred every time she thought of him.  But now the heat was almost unbearable as she slid her tongue between his teeth, exploring the wonder of his taste all over again.
 
Strong battle worn hands came up to tangle in her coppery locks, caressing her scalp as their tongues met and danced together. A primal growl issued from Riddicks throat, her body warm and willing against him starting the slow burn of passion's sharp blade.
 
She sighed in exhilaration as she felt the flames of desire spread through her body while his fingers massaged through her hair.
 
With pained reluctance Riddick pulled his lips from her, creating the briefest of space between them. "How can I allow you to return to Duncan? How can I see the cruelty he inflicts upon? I'm a man of honor, a man that would not willingly stand by and allow a woman to be treated in such a way."
 
Her arms wrapped tightly around him, her body melding to his in a provocative, yet primal and possessive fashion.  "I would love nothing more than to beg you to make me yours."  Her cheek pressed against the hard plane of his naked chest, reveling in the warm contact of skin on skin.  "But I would not for the world have war created in the midst of a clan because of me."  Her eyes lifted to his beseechingly.  "But I am yours.  Body and soul."
 
He kissed her again, gently. "I have never feared war, mi'lady. I've killed more English than most. What I fear is that Duncan will harm you to keep you from me and I fear for my son. My son who has fallen under your husband, my brother's, influence. Until I can assure both your safe returns to Dovanshire we must be cautious." He slowly eased to one knee in front of her, pushing up the hem of her tunic, to her calves, then to her knees, revealing the pale silken skin below.
 
Her breath was coming in short, erratic gasps as she felt his hands under the material of her tunic.  Her legs barely held her weight as the sensual, creamy liquid of desire spread between her thighs.  "Riddick," she whispered breathlessly.  "You must believe that I have done all that is in my power to overlook your child and see to his safety and well-being."  Her hands moved with growing boldness to stroke the velvety softness of his shorn head.  "As he grew older, Duncan allowed me access to him less and less."
 
"I believe your every word, do not worry. I can see with my own eyes what Duncan has done with Johns youthful trust. Tell me, Guenivere, why is there no issue from your union with Duncan? Why does Duncan want my son instead of one of his blood?" His hand slid further up her creamy skin, his powerful biceps reaching around her small frame to grasp the tender globes of her posterior, squeezing and kneading with loving care.
 
Her body thrilled at the contact, his massaging fingers causing the spread of liquid at the apex of her thighs to grow.  "I know not, my lord," she breathed, her hips thrusting slightly forward.  "I only know that he wanted nothing of an heir from my body."  Her legs threatened to give way under her and she braced her self by planting a hand on each side of his shoulder.  "He has a mixture he forces me to drink each morning after … to cleanse my body, he says."  Her words were detached, thinking of nothing but the pleasure she was experiencing from his touch.
 
Riddick momentarily recoiled thinking of man not wanting a child of his own, a child that shared his blood. Then there was a flicker of understanding, of disgust. "He slay Alec? A man of the same blood, second to Laird. A matter of power."  His words were more a statement than a question but he had to hear the truth from her lips. "He slay his brother."
 
"Aye," she said simply.  "Alec died by Duncan's hand."
 
He drew close to her body, his head resting against her near concave abdomen. "There are so many sins Duncan will answer for." He wouldn't spare a moment of thought for his fallen brethren now, he had precious little time with his love and would use it to its fullest. His head turned and he kissed the area so close gently and then his hands pushed the tunic even higher, exposing her womanly mound, glistening wet.
 
Her body shivered as the air touched the dripping downy thatch, throbbing for his touch.  "I ache for you!  I never knew it could be like this!"  The feel of her bodice tight against her uncorseted breasted caused a now familiar tingle to flair in her aroused nipples, taut and sensitive.  Her hand moved to boldly stoke the full mounds as she sought to ease the pulsation there that matched the feeling in her feminine core.
 
His mouth moved over the full fleshy lips of her womanly core separating the fold with his questing tongue. Finding the small swollen bud of her passion, he laved over it and suckled with a gentle suction.
 
Her head fell back as the exquisite feelings washed over her.  Her body became a convulsing mass of tension as her erotic juices flowed through her being.  Her hands continued to caress the velvety feel of his head silently begging for more of his ministrations.  "I can hardly breathe!"  The sound was ripped from her throat as the orgasmic frenzy took possession of her.
 
Hands freely roamed as his mouth worked at her most intimate of openings, his tongue sliding inside to pierce and withdraw. There were two words he would have said to her in that moment if he were able, in and out. His breath flowed over her delicate pink skin with his sigh of satisfaction.
 
Instinctively she began to breathe deeply and was surprised to find that the deeper she breathed the more her body reacted to his tongue's motions.  Falling into a spiraling vortex, she felt the full impact of the forceful orgasm, her feminine muscles convulsing violently over and over until she felt as if she would weep from the pleasure of it.
 
There was an instant thrill that raced through his large frame as her climax rippled across his tongue. Slowly he withdrew and pulled her down to the fresh straw, pulling her under him. In one quick thrust he was buried to the hilt inside her gripping heat.
 
 Her body felt as if it were stretched to its limit, and yet the feeling was blissful in its intensity.  She writhed into the hay, bits of straw clinging to her red curls as her head thrashed with passion.  Bucking upward, her hips worked to meet his thrust for thrust as she felt him plunge his steely manhood into her repeatedly.  A strangled cry came from deep inside her as she continued to clamp her muscles around his immense girth.

 
Riddick rode her with  uninhibited desire filling her over and over until he felt the sharpness of his impending release.
 
"Replenish me, Riddick," she breathed huskily, the heels of her feet attaching just under the powerful globes of his firm posterior and urging him faster.  "Fill me with your seed!"
 
In the dimness of the stable the door opened soundlessly and Johns' lanky frame slipped through.  He'd seen them argue, seen his father drag his lover inside, and he was curious. What could have caused such conflict as to have them openly arguing? But a wicked little smile twisted his lips when from the shadows it was apparent they were no long engaged in battle, they were loving. With the beautiful lady Guenivere, the woman who had tried to take his mother's place, thighs spread wide and withering below his father. Her pleas softly echoed through the stable. Johns knew the working of a man and a woman's body and the satisfaction to be had there. Duncan had introduced him to Guenivere's chamber maid just that Spring and he'd kept the girl well on her back for months. And now he knew what it meant to be with a woman the way his father was and it twisted his gut knowing that his father would not so much as look at his mother with a kind smile when she was alive. "Have your fill now....." He hissed quitely, hand on the hilt of his sword, itching to use it. "Duncan will deal with the both of you soon enough."

Part 8
 
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The kitchen was dark and quiet at that time of day. The only light came from the flickering of the low burning fire in the hearth, the smells of a well cooked meal having long faded. And Duncan sat with his soiled boots thrown uncaringly on the chopping block, chair tipped backwards with his thin frame lounging, his hair hanging long over his shoulder. This place was his most favored of all the keep, the dark hiding him when need be, the warm closing around his perpetually chilled body. The dark orbs of his eyes followed the girl that entered kitchen, her generous curves firing his blood and sending it straight to his groin. He was hard and ready for her as she bent low to tend the fire. Soundlessly he stood and moved behind her, hands inches towards her firm young body. The same body he had listened to Johns groan and gasp over in the throws of his release.
 
"You're with Johns' bastard, are you not?" he asked, his face near hers.
 
"I'm not sure, mi'lord. I think it may be the truth of the matter but have no proof of it." Her bright oval eyes shown with unshed tears and she quaked before him.
 
His mood was sour and brooding without Johns near, without his apprentice to commiserate with. With a feral growl of frustration and anger he grabbed the girl and swung her past him, her hips impacting the chopping block hard, pulling a yelp of pain from her. He was behind her before she could turn, before she could mount any defense. He grasped the thick folds of her skirt and jerked roughly, ripping the material from the waist to the hem.
 
"Johns WILL thank me for this," he growled, lifting the edge of his kilt, stroking his semi-erect member to fullness.
 
"No, please.....I will leave the keep, mi'lord. Johns shall never know of the babe inside," she pleaded, begged, until her throat was parched, until the screaming started.
 
With fury rolling through his veins, with her pain and fear spurring him on he shoved roughly into her unprepared portal tearing and ripping his way in. He grunted with each brutal thrust calling out his ward's name as his seed spilled into her mixing with her blood, the scent driving him into another sort of lust.
 
"Oh, dear lord, it's Johns that you....." She gasped out, pain ripping through her small frame. Her legs gave way and she slumped to the floor as Duncan stepped away from her. Cutting her eyes towards him she was afraid to take her eyes away, afraid to be met next with his cruelty and be unprepared, but what she saw she could never be prepared for. His eye were wild and distant, churning with an unseen force, his body fairly hummed with menace. She clutched the remnants of her skirt to her and tried to crawl away quietly, move without drawing his attention. But her effort was for naught as he turned on her, glimpsing movement from the corner of his eye. With one fluid movement he swiped a long thin blades from the block and with a howl of rage stood over the maid, stood over the ever obedient Constance, and drove the knife through her shoulder with such force the tip broke against the mortar below. Falling heavily on her withering body he lapped at the flow of blood from the wound.

 
He practically purred at the coppery spice that flowed across his tongue, that began to make the room brighten to his lifting spirits. His body felt leath and light, ready to do anything he asked of it. His thoughts, as always,  were on Johns and how he would share this with him one day, how he would watch another's life force fill him and make him twice as strong, twice as virile. Moments later he had enough of sweet Constance and dealt her the final blow with his own hands, breaking her neck clean.
 
He stood, smiling, running the back of his hand against his dripping chin and admiring his work, admiring his artistry, because killing to him with no care about it was art of the highest degree.
 
**************
 
Johns took the stairs two at a time, his long legs carrying him quickly above. He stopped outside Duncan's room, his heart pounding wildly inside his chest. Without knocking he slipped inside and there he was, waiting from him, waiting as if he had expected him to enter that very moment.
 
"Duncan......." He dropped his eyes to the floor, confusion coursing through his young body. "Constance...."
 
Duncan glided from the bed and across the room to Johns, wrapping him in his arms, kissing his soft thick mat of hair. "She dealt herself death in the kitchen this afternoon while you were away," he lied, his face twisting in a satisfied smile above Johns head.
 
"Why?" Johns pulled slightly way his voice detached, emotionless.  Duncan would make sense of it all for him, he always did, always helped him to see reason in everything.
 
Duncan saw his opportunity and struck. "You're a noble, love. She knew you would do nothing more than use her body. I fear, rather than waiting for you to tire of her she ended it by her own hand."
 
With the explanation Johns nodded and hugged closer to Duncan, his arms winding around the other's waist. "I heard her sister whispering of a child."
 
"It's likely, Johns. Women produce uselessly more often than not." Duncan turned, pulling him towards the bed with him.  Easing onto the thick down mattress he sighed feeling Johns curl against him. "I'll find you another if you wish it." Duncan offered.
 
Johns lifted his head and starred into the fathomless depths of Duncan's eyes, drowning there with his fading innocence. Finally, he shook his head and lay it gently in Duncan's lap. "There's no need."

Part 9

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Guenivere picked at the food on her plate, her complexion pale and pasty, as she watched the new kitchen maid serving her husband and her lover's son from underneath dark red lashes. They spoke easily, ignoring her presence as usual. But this morning, it mattered little. Before long, she felt it again … the wave of sickness that flooded her entire being. "I beg your pardon, my liege," she whispered quickly as she rose and flew from the room. Pushing past the servants, she ran through the kitchen and out the open door, finding a private place to expel the contents of her stomach.

Johns looked to Duncan. "She is ill?"

Duncan nodded, his eyes adoring Johns as usual. "It seem so."

A wicked pleasure took hold of Johns then and he pushed away from the table. "I'll take my leave now, Duncan." Moving to the other man's side he leaned slowly down sealing their lips.

There was a heady moan from Duncan and then Johns was gone, striding from the room with the sure steps of the man he was becoming.

* * * * * * * * *

Guinevere leaned her back against the wall behind her, her body thankful for the firmness of the stone as her eyes closed. Her head swam as the nausea dissipated slowly, her hand moving to the flatness of her stomach.

"I know of your secret, mi'lady." Johns malevolent smile twisted his features, the light creating a sinister cast. "Have you spoken of it with him?"

Her eyes flew open and her head whipped up. With a huge sigh she walked past him toward the stables, needing the fresh air. He hand moved to smooth the long, silken tunic that swirled at her ankles, her body shivering in the chilling breeze. "Johns, I haven't the strength for your riddles now."

He moved quickly behind her, his hand like a striking snake. Grabbing her arm he whirled her to face him. "Make no mistake, Guinevere, there are no riddles here. The question was plain enough. Have you spoken of this?" He released her arm and jabbed at her stomach none too gently. "Does he KNOW?" Johns yelled into her face.

Her hand moved again to her concave belly. "Go and finish your breakfast, Johns. There is nothing to speak of save ill prepared food of last night." Her nerves were raw and she needed escape.

"Nothing? Nothing you say?" he continued to shout and then his voice dropped to low hiss. "Nothing save the night you slipped into my father's chamber upon his return. Oh, pray tell me … was it nothing that you fell like a whore to your back in the stables of Dovanshire and was ridden well that day?"

Her eye widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "You … you were there?"

"Of course I was there. I saw you spread your thighs. I heard every whore's moan. AND I know you have conceived," he growled.

The soft mist turned into a light rain as she stood there, eyes focused on his. She backed away slowly, the expression on his face frightening her beyond reason.

"You had best run, mi'lady. Run to your lover for when I spread the word to your husband he will deal you death of the most violent kind." Johns laughed at her fear, using his barbs to compound it. He would have Duncan and he would be rid of her intrusion into his life once this was heard.

* * * * * * * *

The loud sound of hoof beats thundered through the air as the rider approached Dovanshire. The long red curls flying behind her head and hunter green woolen cloak spread like wings in the wind left little doubt as to who the rider could be. Practically falling from the tall, black mount, she tripped forward, her knees failing the strength to hold her erect. Tears streamed from her eyes as one word tore from her lungs. "RIDDICK!!"

Riddick gently patted the tall stallion's neck, big hands smoothing across the sleek coat, his attention riveted on the animal as it snorted in agitation. Smiling, he knew the animal would have preferred a long run along the moors but he hadn't the time. The keep was near finished and he wanted to see to the last of it before fall wrapped cold hands around the land. He was suddenly aware of a warmth inside him, a feeling sparked by a familiar presence. Then he heard it, his body tingling with the need of her. Riddick stepped from the stable with the shouting of his name, his heart racing as he recognized Guinevere's voice. Seeing her stumbling towards him, he rushed to her side. "What is it? What's happened?" he asked, taking in her distraught condition.

In her emotional, confused condition, she kept a slight distance from him. She had no choice but to tell him. But fear gripped her. Would his words from before ring true? Or would he be angry with her? "Johns … he knows." A hitch caught in her voice as tears fell harder. "He saw us, Riddick. In the stables."

Riddick stood hand splayed across her back confused. "He spoke of it to you?"

She nodded, a small hiccup tearing from her. "He … he also knows …" Her eyes raised to his pleadingly. "Riddick, I'm with child! With your child!"
 

Riddick stood gapping at her for a moment, wanting it to be true and fearing it wasn't. "By God's grace, with child! Are you certain?" His eyes gentled for a moment as they traveled her body, knowing there would be no sign of it but needing to see for himself.

"Very certain." Her eyes lowered. "I've not had my cycle when expected and … and the morning illness has set." Tears began again, not wanting to bring trouble of any kind to his life. "It was when I was ill that Johns followed me." Her words became veritable sobs. "He was so menacing, Riddick! He told me that his is to inform Duncan!" Her eyes became wild as her hands grasped the hard strength of his biceps, nails digging into his flesh. "He will kill me, Riddick! And worse, he will then seek YOU!"

"Then it shall be." He pulled her to him, ignoring the slight sting of the small wounds she inflicted. "You'll not return to Ruenmire. Dovanshire is your home from this moment forth." He inhaled deeply as he buried his face against her neck. "A child, Guinevere. Our child," he whispered, love for her swirling through his body to wrap around his heart and claim a place for all time there.

He refused to think about his son in that moment, to think of his betrayal, of his cruelty. There was time enough for that when the reckoning came, when he would either reach reason with Duncan or deal him death.

Her body turned limp then, falling into his arms and sliding her arms around his body, drinking in his strength. "Our child, Riddick! Conceived in love and passion!" Her tear became those of happiness as she allowed herself to be enveloped in his strength and compassion. "I love you, Richard Riddick. For always and forever."

"This is my vow to you, mi'lady, my love. You are mine now and forever and in love I will keep you until we are old and draw our last breath together. My honor will be to see to your every need and guard you from all ills. My love is forever and never waning." He claimed her lips then sealing their fated, sealing the fate for generations to come.

* * * * * * *

Johns stormed into the great hall, his emotions boiling over, his hatred and jealousy at a fevered pitch. "Duncan!..." he shouted, rushing towards the other man as he stood.

"Johns?" The look of concern on the older man's face tore at his heart, he loved him so very much and that was the only regret he would feel for his words.

"It is your wife..." He began, reaching for Duncan's thin fingers threading his into the grasp. "She's a whore...."

Duncan's features twisted into a mask of fury and Johns took a slinking step backwards. Noticing, Duncan soothed Johns, his free hand tangling in John's long locks and pulling his warm wet lips up to his, his tongue sampling the heaven he knew Johns to be. Slowly he pulled away knowing Johns would never be the one to do it. "Never fear … I find no fault with you, my love," he whispered sensually. "Now, tell me of my wife's treachery."

"She's been with my father, bedding him..." He held up two fingers. "At least. My eyes watched them. And now the sickness...." He growled, wanting Duncan to carve the child he knew was growing inside her out. "She's not had her flow for months. Ask...."

"There's no need to ask. Your word is enough. Anything that comes from these lips...." He dipped his head again, capturing Johns' mouth and claiming it for his own and then pulling away. "Must surely have come from the heavens and be filled with truth." He pulled Johns against him, their heights near equal and he sighed feeling the young man's erection against him. His own member leapt to life in response.

"I will reclaim my honor. That is certain …but now is not the time." He rubbed suggestively against Johns and smiled with the moan that came from his lover. "Shall it be here or my chamber, my love?"

"Oh, Duncan, there will be no waiting. I'll have it here." Johns' mouth went quickly to his neck suckling and lapping, drawing moan after needful moan from the other man.

Duncan maneuvered them back to the table, his hand slipping between them to stroke Johns quivering length through the thick tartan. "My love, I do believe you need me," Duncan whispered as Johns fondled him in return. "Now......This moment.." Johns practically begged, inching to his knees in front of Duncan, lifting his kilt.

"No...Not...in this manner, Johns....." He Grabbed Johns and pulled him to his feet. "We shall have us a fine ride here in this place."

He knew what that meant and he trembled with anticipation. Duncan turned him and pushed his chest to the table, lifting his kilt, pushing it far upon his back. Johns' fingers clutched at the edges of the table as he felt warm wet kisses trailed against the rounded globes of his rear.

"Please, Duncan...Please..." He hissed, rolling his hips against the rough would to gain any amount of friction he could.

"Patience, my love... Patience." He admonished, lifting his head and ripping his own kilt out of the way. He nestled his fully engorged staff between the two ivory cheeks, rubbing gently.

"Duncan...I can't.....Please, do not make me...." Johns was reduced to whimpering his need, releasing his hold on the wood to push slightly off the table and stroke himself.

"Then, I'll not make you wait...Not make you hurt for me..." Duncan whispered, leaning across Johns' back.

With that he withdrew and dipped his finger into the clotted sweet pudding sitting nearby and placed them at Johns' entrance, slowly pushing inward, working the digits to stretch the tight portal.

"NOW! NOW, Duncan..." He slammed himself against the invasion of Duncan's fingers, his body trembling with pent up passion.

Duncan stroked himself fully erect, mimicking the rhythm of his fingers when Johns' pleas slammed fully into him, making his desire grow to a painful peak. Again, he withdrew and reached for the pudding slicking his member for easy passage. He paused at the tight ring of muscles for just a moment and took a deep breath, fighting his own body for control.

"You're mine, Johns. I love you as I've never loved a woman. I give you the one thing that is mine and mine alone. My heart." With that he plunged deep inside the gripping heat, hearing Johns shout of relief as if from miles away, blood rushing in his ears at the sheer bliss of being inside his love.

His control slipped and he began pounding into Johns, his body drawing taunt in an effort not to spill to quickly. But Johns was now begging and withering below, stroking himself until there was a hoarse shout of Duncan's name and Johns seed was flowing onto the stone floor at their feet.

Duncan thrust once more into the grip of Johns' body and arched his back, his own seed filling the well-used channel. "By the gods, Johns, I do love you. That I swear until my dying breath. " He collapsed across the younger man's back, melding them in an intimate and loving embrace.

 
Part 10
************
Riddick stood in the doorway of his chamber watching his love sleep, watching over her while she rested. The sickness she'd experienced the last few mornings had him nervous and on edge. Mary had not one morning of sickness with Johns and now he found himself sorely lacking the youthful detachment he had with her then. He could slay fifty English in the space of an afternoon but his legs threatened to give way if he had to watch Guenivere's ashen complexion just before she retched once more. He sighed and ran a trembling hand across his face.

"She'll be right as rain once she wakes, Laird Riddick. She's strong and filled with love for that wee little one." The voice came from behind him as a gentle hand touched his arm. He turned and nodded seeing the ancient features of Mary's mother there, smiling. "She loves you as well, lad. There are things about her that are much like my Mary and things at are so very different." She tilted her head and met Riddick's eyes. "You've made a good match with this one. You'll keep her, hear me? She's the one that was destined for you."

It was then over her shoulder that he saw Daniel and Damon rushing up the stairs, two men he trusted with his home, his family, his life.

"It's Duncan, Riddick. He's riding to Dovanshire. He has that big sword of his father's slung across his back." Daniel huffed, winded from their long hard ride across the moor. "It's a fight he's looking for, for sure."

Damon then met Riddick's gaze and delivered the final and last piece of information they had, knowing it wouldn't sit well with their laird. "Johns is with him, Riddick, riding at his side. The boy looks as if he's not a care in the world."

Riddick nodded and looked back to Guenivere. "There's no need to worry yourself, Laird. I'll stay with her. I swear on my sweet Mary I'll not leave her side, not leave her for a moment."

"I'll meet him on the moor. I'll not have blood spilt here . Not have her seeing this," he told to the two men.

"Then we'll be riding with you. We'll not have it any other way," Daniel said, looking to Damon and receiving a affirmative shake of the head. "I don't trust the bastard. I've heard whispers of the man he's become and it's not a good thing."

Down the stair and out to the stable the three proceeded. Instructions passed from Riddick to the two as he lead his horse, one that resembled his beloved Bastion but wasn't, from the stall. The tall warhorse remained still and alert, much as his father had, as Riddick continued conversation with the two.

"There is one thing that I demand above all else..." He gracefully found his seat upon the horse and pinned Daniel and Damon with a commanding gaze. "Johns is not to be touched no matter his action, no matter the outcome. Repeat these words as a vow that I've just spoken."

Both men were eager to comply as they rode out onto the lush gree land. "Your son is not to be touched, Laird."

* * * * * *

Duncan glanced sidelong as Johns, feeling everything his lover felt, in tuned to the fullest. "You're frightened, my love?"

Trying to fasten the bravest of faces, the young man gave a single nod and gazed at Duncan from under long, thick lashes, his hands tight around the reins he held. "The man who sired me is sure to be angry … angry enough to induce the horror he exhibits in the name of so called goodness and mercy." His voice lowered as a slow shiver coursed through him. "I would not for the world that he hurt you, beloved lord."

Duncan maneuvered his horse so close to Johns that there wasn't an inch of space between the beasts, reaching out he caressed the younger man's cheek. "Your worries are of naught. My victory is assured." He sighed feeling the softness of Johns skin, even the sprinkling of new-grown hair at his chin didn't detract from it. "But you must tell me this. Will you think ill of me for slaying your father? For I will if it comes to that, Johns."

The smaller hand moved to caress the more mature fingers that caressed his cheek. "How could I ever think ill of you, my lord? My love?" As if an insatiable need overtook him, Johns took the hand in his and, with a newly born boldness born of sexual intimacy, pulled the decidedly male palm to him mouth and slowly slid his warm, wet tongue over the wonderfully roughened skin. "He will try to take me from your hold." He allowed the tip of his tongue to slip across the sensitive skin between each long, thick digit of his lover's hand. "He will try to abscond with me … thinking me his child … his chattel." Youthful, desperate eyes looked into the more knowledgeable eyes for assurance.

He moaned deep in his throat considering pulling his love from his horse and having with him there on the ground, coupling in a wild frenzy until they were both sated. But Duncan knew it would last only moments, he'd learned that in the weeks that Johns had shared his bed. "He'll not, Johns, I know your father well. He sees you as his child, true. But nothing less than a man. He wasn't much older than you when he was told of the betrothal to your mother," he explained, a moment of wistfulness wound around him and then was suddenly gone.

A sudden dullness appeared in Johns' eyes. "You mean to say that he'll not want me anymore than he wanted my mother?" His grasp held tight with Duncan's. "Flesh of his flesh, and he wants nothing of me." Pleading eyes held the elder man, the edge of a moist, pink tongue trailing over nervous lip tantalizingly. "He never wanted me. I never belonged to him." A moment of silence followed before barely inaudible words were spoken. "But I belong to you." Johns smiled with as much courage as he could muster. "Slay him or not … I makes little difference in my mind." His hand moved to quickly caress the strong thigh of his lover before slowly removing his touch, uncertain if public notice of their affair would anger Duncan. "I have no more feeling for him than I do for the gnats that congregate around dung."

Duncan gave him a curt nod and a smile he reserved only for Johns, loving and open, sweetly seductive. "No matter your true kin, Johns, you are loved by me and that shall see you though all the winters of your life."

"And I shall always be yours." Johns' eyes glanced toward the looming landscape. "Let it be finished quickly."

"It will, my love. This I swear to you." He held Johns' eyes for a moment and then turned his to the horizon. Turned them to see his once brother now turned foe advance upon him.

Riddick stared across the distance at his son, so close to Duncan he could swear caresses were being exchanged and then dismissed the notion.

"Johns will be set in harms way here, Riddick. I can feel it in me bones, sure as Satan calls he'll be injured in this," Daniel warned.

Riddick cast a stern look at the other man. "I'll not listen to it, Daniel. I have to do what is right here. I want Johns safe." He kicked the stallion into a fast gait and drew near the two.

"What is your intention here, Duncan?" Riddick called the sword sheathed at his back fairly humming through his skin.

"You know my intention, Brother. You have something that belongs to me," he barked, anger sparking in his eyes and lending a hard edge to his tongue. "My whore is my own, Riddick. I'll thank you to return my wife. I'll bare you no ill will should you do this that I ask. Only she will pay for her insolence, for her disloyalty to her laird."

Johns sat tall in saddle, a smile of pride on his face for the courage of his love … a slight sneer pointed directly at Riddick.

Riddick growled, his fierce voice vibrating through the air around him. "She is your wife, you vile bastard. Not a pet, not a whore, your wife." He felt the pre battle tremble in his limbs, trembling that was filled with an energizing strength. "She is with child. My child, Duncan."

"Your bastard, more like," spat Johns. "Since when do you care so much for the spawn you sire?"

"Leave off, Johns, this is no business of yours. You've chosen a bad road with Duncan. You're my son but only you can know your mind," he called, trying to urge Johns not to be embroiled in the coming battle.

"I stand with my lord," the young man snapped, his hand tightening again on the reins. "I stand with he who would never bed the wife of his clans brother." He sniffed indignantly. "I can only hope that your lusty whore was worth the betrayal you have caused."

Duncan waved a hand , silencing Johns. "It'll do you no good to keep with this."

"Will you return my wife, Riddick?" Duncan shouted, loud enough for Riddick's men to hear.

"No!" he bellowed, kicking the horse below into a ground eating pace and unsheathing the board sword at his back.

Duncan gave a brief parting glance to Johns and followed suit. Sword raised he met Riddick head on.

The clash of steel rang out across the moor as both men were knocked from their mounts with the first blow of battle.

Riddick was the first to gain his footing, striking point down at Duncan, who rolled to avoid being skewered with the thick blade

Duncan, agile and graceful, kicked out at Riddick and caught him along the hip throwing him off balance.

Scrambling to his feet he arked the air and made for his enemy's gut, barely avoiding the whistling slice of Duncan's sword.

"Death will meet you quickly on this battle field!"

Riddick countered and plunged towards Duncan, cutting neatly into his shoulder. There was a whimper of pain from the other man but he didn't retreat, didn't fall. Blood spread quickly across the white linen of the shirt Duncan wore. "Looks as if you will be the one to die this day, friend," Riddick said, claiming the small victory of first blood.

With a sound something akin to a scream of torment, Johns barreled forward. Aghast, a look of horror paled his youthful features. "DUNCAN!" The cry filled the air as he attempted to move heaven and earth to reach his only love.

Collecting himself, Duncan seized Riddicks advantage. With his own pride turned against him, there was a deep gash neatly drawn across Riddick's thigh.

It was then that a flash leapt between them just as Riddick recovered and thrust his sword home. Burying it deep in young and forgiving flesh, blood rolled from lips gone blue fountained from around the hilt of the sword.

In that instant, the warm, youthful spirit that was Johns spasmed in pain. Only one thought imprinted itself into his mind … only one yearning … Duncan, he willed as he fell toward the ground.

Duncan fell to his knees beside Johns, his world narrowing to that body, that soul, his love he would soon lose. "Johns, my love, my life." Duncan's voice as low and soothing, needing these last moment to sustain him through the rest of his life without his lover. "Nothing will separate us, not even death. And I will make this moment right, slay the man that has taken you from this life."

Johns' hand, weakened from the loss of blood and the fatal blow, tightened one last time around the hand of the man who had become his life. At that moment, he would have sold his soul to the dark prince for only a few more moments with his love.

With a river of crimson blood coursing down his thigh Riddick staggered back from the dying form of his son, sick and horrified at what had just occurred, what he himself had dealt the boy. Johns was slipping into the arms of death and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "Forgive me," was the simple phrase issued from the Laird of Dovanshire, from Richard Riddick.

Duncan looked up and spat. "You'll have none here." Looking back to Johns, tears slipped down his cheeks dropping to mingle with the frothing oxygen rich blood that purged from Johns' lips. "I will now and forever love you, Johns." With his final goodbye he leaned in and sealed his lips with Johns, drinking in the blood of his lover, feeling the flow of energy and life that his love's last gift had given him.

As the life's blood hummed along his veins everything faded from his mind, from his body, but the need for vengeance. The only real sort of vengeance, that of a lost love. "Death will meet you slowly this day, Riddick. I will cut flesh from your bones in slow torturous ribbons with you screaming for my mercy all the while. You've taken the only love I wished from me. The only body that belonged against mine," Gaining his footing in the same instant Riddick advanced, the battle raged on, away from the cooling still body of Johns.

Damon and Daniel rode forward. The larger of the two, Damon, removed his cloak as he leapt from his horse. Kneeling beside Johns, he wrapped the body and allowed Daniel to help him lift their Laird's son onto the back of his horse. Turning, they silently watched advantaged won and lost, a failed thrust, a glancing blow. It was a battle to the death and they understood the moor would likely be painted red before it came to an end.

The battle waged for hour after hour, both men fighting their bodies as well as each other. Both men felt the sharp sting of over extended muscles, the low moan of fatigue, the ache of clotting numerous wounds. The day as well as life was soon to be done for one. The one that miss stepped with his fading strength and found the hilt of the other's sword that ran him straight through. Riddick stumbled backward, eyes wide and gasping for breath. His eyes pinned on his foe as the light faded around them.

But it was Duncan that pitched backwards, the point of the sword nailing him to the ground, his eyes dull with pain and the fading life inside. "Oh, but you think you've won, Riddick. You have done nothing more than set me free, sent me to my destiny. Given me the means to slowly feast upon your kin and clan. Make me the god I seek to be, Riddick. That's all you've done this day." Duncan gave a shutter and died there much like his lover on the stained red ground of the moor, the ground that would come to be known to generations as the killing moor.

The keep was warm in the autumn night, with hearths ablaze. But the warmth didn't penetrate into the hearts of those the resided there. The news of young Johns' death had spread quickly and the long mourning began. Riddick lay in the room next to the one where Guenivere lay sleeping, his wounds were being quickly stitched and washed. "She'll be fine, my Lord. She was just a wee bit upset when you weren't here when she woke." Mary's mother patted his arm as she lay aside the needled and allowed him to stand from the bed.

"I'll see her now."

* * * * * * *

Tire eyes flew open, a low cry escaping full lips. 'Riddick!" Guenivere gasped, her shoulders lifting from the bed in an attempt to raise herself from the soft bed. "My lord … Riddick?" She needed to see him to rid herself of this sickening feeling … then one that made her believe she would not lay eyes on him again.

"I'm here, woman." A tired smiled lined his face as he eased down to the bed beside her. "We must speak..."

Her hands moved to his face, tears beginning to drip from the corner of her eyes. "Oh, my lord … my love," she spoke in slight sobs as she kissed his cheek with tender passion. "I feared I'd lost you!"

"You've not lost me....Not this day or any other." He sighed, reclining on the bed and pulling her with him. "Today it is a betrothed you've gained."

She looked at him in confusion, not daring to hope. "He's dead, then?" Her fingers tenderly ran along the outline of one of his stitched wounds. "He ceases to exist and you bear the scars for me?"

"For us, my love. I ran him through with my sword. He draws breath no more," Riddick assured, meeting her concerned and uncertain gaze. "But there is more that I bare the scar of this day. Johns ...my son..." he began, his voice strained and choked with sorrow.

Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head, unwilling to comprehend. "No! Dear God, no, Riddick! Johns?" She buried her head in his chest and held back the sob realizing that she was an unwilling factor behind the death of Johns … the son of than man she loved more than life itself. Her arm moved to wrap around her belly as she felt a sickening deep in its pit. "I'm sorry, Riddick," she breathed. "I'm so very sorry."

"Do not speak of sorry, my love. For you've had no hand in Johns death. He was used in the most vile manner." He reached out drawing her closer to him, cupping her cheek. "Johns was Duncan's lover."

A shocked gasp escaped her throat as her head raised, her eyes meeting his. "Say it isn't so, my lord!" Her mind reeled at the concept, unwilling to believe that Duncan's cruelty could extend to the realm of youths … her heart a vortex of compassion for the child.

"It was as I've said. There seemed to be love between them. Duncan spoke of undying love and devotion to Johns as he drew his last breath. But it matters not now. They lay cold ready to be lowered into the earth." His moment of outward emotion passed and he lifted her hair to kiss her head gently.

She burrowed into his side feeling the strength from his being seep into her. Her hand splayed across the hard plane of his chest and caressed gently, a mixture of comfort and love. "Your loss was great this day, my love." Taking his hand, she eased it onto the surface of her belly. "I will spend the rest of my life seeing to it that you are happy with a keep filled with children, family and love." She dropped several tender kisses on his chest before resting her head there with an emotional sigh.

Riddick nodded, losing himself in a emotional tidal wave inside. Losing himself to the moments of the fight that day where things could have been changed, where he could have saved his son. How had it changed so fast in his life … Duncan, once a brother turned to a deadly foe, his son lost to the love of another man? How could such things happen? The questions wormed their way through his head and he turned wrapping his strong well-used arms around the woman that would soon be his wife.

Settling her head onto the hard muscle of his shoulder, Guenivere could feel the intensity that boiled within him. So much had been lost to him in so little time, and it was all because of the love they shared. "I would not for the world see you vexed, dearest one." A smooth hand trailed the contours of his rippled abdomen as she spoke softly, her breath fanning his skin. "Would that I could take the pain from your troubled heart and mind."

"Sweet woman, my love knows no bounds for you but even it can not sooth this day's end," he whispered sadly. In that moment, all the seconds of Johns' young life found their way to his mind's eyes. He again heard his son's first cries, again saw his first teetering steps, so many moments he had lived through, so many he had missed. Life would be forever missing now, missing his son. His heart would be dark where Johns had once been.
 
 

 
**********

TBC