Conquest of a Queen

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Chapter Seventeen

Isabel sat up wondering how long she had slept. She found the food on the table had been refreshed, the fire had been tended to, and the tub near the fireplace had been filled from a pitcher of water sitting on a table nearby. Alaric was still sound asleep, so she crept quietly to the entrance of the chamber and poked her head out. It was the middle of the night, and with the exception of a few warriors who lay in drunken snoring piles beside dying embers, the Shumi had all gone home to sleep. Most of them anyway, Isabel could still hear moans and sighs echoing from multiple chambers. She felt sticky from the sweat mixing with the oils and makeup that the Priestesses had slathered her with for the ceremony so she climbed into the tub.

The water felt lukewarm and refreshing as it ran down her body. Using the creamy bar of soap that rested on a towel next to the pitcher, Isabel scrubbed her face free of the heavy makeup. Her skin had felt tight and trapped but now was more comfortable as she scrubbed the paint and oil away. Tilting her head back, Isabel poured the pitcher of water into her hair. When she placed it back on the table she found Alaric laying on his side, propped up on his elbow, watching her.

Isabel smiled. “The goddess has left the building, it’s only me now.”

Alaric grinned and rose from the bed, his erection as stiff as it had been earlier that evening, causing Isabel to blush with delight. “As far as I am concerned, she has only just arrived.”

He climbed into the tub behind her and she leaned against him as he placed his arms around her.

“May I assist with your bathing?” he asked.

She placed the bar of soap in his hand and after lathering up he began to massage her scalp and run his fingers through her hair. When she leaned forward to grab the pitcher as he bid her to, he whistled.

“What?”

“Nothing, just admiring the view.” He replied, making Isabel giggle.

He stroked her hair as he poured water onto it with the pitcher again and again. Finally he placed the pitcher on the floor next to the tub and fumbled around beneath the water, making sure to caress and tickle parts of her body.

“Alaric, what are you doing?” She giggled, knocking his hands away.

“Why, searching for the soap, dearest.” He replied with a smile in his voice. “I appear to have mislaid it.”

Isabel found the bar easily and slapped it into his palm.

“There you are, now don’t do it again!” she scolded him playfully.

“Yes, my Queen.” He replied, duly chastised, kissing her forehead as she lay against him.

He lathered his hands again and caressed her body, guiding the soap over her breasts and following it with his other hand. Isabel moaned and he kissed her throat, sliding hands and soap down beneath the water. He dropped the bar again to free both hands, and while one continued to explore her body, the other travelled far below to find her folds and dip inside them. He teased and caressed her bud, reveling in the feel of her body as it began to glide against his while she moaned and sighed. She turned her head, reaching up to stroke his hair and kissed him. It was an electrifying kiss, full of a voracious desire that made his senses reel. He turned her around, wrapping his strong arms around her and folding her even deeper into the kiss, the two of them groaning as their passions rose again. He kissed down her throat and Isabel whimpered in his ear. “Oh Alaric, I need you!”

He looked up at her as she positioned herself above him, reaching beneath the water to grasp his steely manhood, and lowered herself on to him.

“Oh!” The prince sighed, throwing his head back as the sensations overwhelmed him. She fit him perfectly, like a sword sliding into its own sheath. Feeding from the need that emanated from her eyes, he grasped her hips as she rocked against him. She threw her head back groaning, her face radiating such joy and beauty it took his breath away. He caressed her body as he thrust deeper inside, feeling his own yearning well up within until they both cried out together, luxuriating in the sheer bliss that surged through them.

The following morning the servants, now garbed in brown robes instead of the priestly red, helped Isabel bathe and fitted her into a black leather sleeveless tunic. They attached steel breast and shoulder plates and slid on black leather fingerless gloves with steel wrist plates, thick black boots and steel shin guards. On her head they placed the top of a silver ram’s skull with large horns. A series of daggers were strapped to her waist and placed inside her wristlets and boots. Isabel was glad the women hadn’t strapped a pair of broadswords to her back like the men wore. Her armor was heavy enough and she wouldn’t know what to do with one sword let alone two. Isabel made a mental note to ask either Alaric or Lennox to teach her some sort of swordsmanship, for she thought it neither appropriate nor wise for a newly crowned warrior queen to ask her subjects for lessons.

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