Denial II, Chapter 27: First of a Million Kisses
Title: Denial II, Chapter 27: First of a Million Kisses
Author: wastingyourgum
Characters/Pairings: Robin, Little John/Queen Eleanor
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, Het
Words: 3000
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Beta'd by robinfanatic and jagnikjen .
Introduction and chapter links for Denial II are here...
Summary: Eleanor makes her move...
>>-------------------->
Chapter 27: First of a Million Kisses
For your smile is a prayer that prays for love
And your heart is a kite that longs to fly,
Allelujah! Here I am - let's cut the strings tonight.
We'll kiss the first of a million kisses and let the past fall away...
- Allelujah, Fairground Attraction
John spent most of the time during his first few days at Poitiers walking through or just sitting in the gardens while Robin attempted to teach him some basic French. Robin had also offered to help him read and write it but John had shaken his head, reminding Robin he'd only just learned that in his own language and had no hope of doing so in another.
Legrand was relishing imposing his dominance on the Royal Guard training grounds after his recent appointment. Much and Carter spent a lot of time training with him, maintaining their battle fitness in anticipation of returning to the Holy Land. Brooks also took the opportunity for some training - and admiring some of the trainees.
Robin and John would occasionally watch from the ramparts but they were tired of fighting for the time being and didn't go down to join in. It was the only chance John had to even see Legrand as the Frenchman knew Poitiers' corridors far better and always seemed to disappear each time John spotted him. After the first few times this happened John realised Legrand was distancing himself from John completely. With a heavy heart, John stopped even watching him train and went back to the gardens.
John had still not even seen the queen when an invitation came on the third day for Lord Locksley to attend a private dinner in her chambers that evening. John would accompany him as his servant. It should have been John's duty to help his "master" get dressed but Robin took pity on him and reversed their roles for that task. John found himself standing with Robin in front of the door to the queen's chambers, freshly scrubbed and more nervous than he'd ever been before any battle. The door opened and they were shown in by a young courtier who promptly excused himself and left through the same door.
"Robin." The queen swept regally towards them. She was wearing a deep blue dress which showed off not only her complexion but also some of her finest assets in John's eyes. She held out her hand to Robin, who bowed and kissed it.
"Your Grace." Robin turned and gestured to John. "You've already met John Little."
"Of course. It is a pleasure to see you again, John." She smiled and proffered her hand to John.
"Your Grace." John bowed and kissed it, grateful for Robin's lessons on court etiquette and for the chance to tear his gaze away from her before it betrayed him. She was even more beautiful than he'd remembered from their brief time together in England almost a year previously.
"Before we dine I have something here which I think you should see, Robin." She picked up a piece of parchment from a desk by the window and handed it to him.
Robin read the note and handed it back to her. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm sorry but I must deal with this immediately. I hope you can forgive me."
"You're leaving me without a dining companion? No, I'm afraid that is unforgivable. Do you both need to go?" the queen asked.
Robin shrugged. "I suppose not. John - I'll see you later. Your Grace." He bowed and left the room before John even had a chance to realise what had happened.
He was on his own.
"So, John, tell me..." She sat at the head of the small dining table and directed him to a chair beside hers. "Are you enjoying your stay here?"
John took a deep breath and sat down. "Very much so, Your Grace. Your gardens are beautiful." He clutched his hands nervously together in his lap, remembering Robin's instructions on not eating or drinking until the queen did.
"They are, aren't they? Especially at this time of year. You can almost feel the sap rising in the air," she enthused. "I would have loved to show you them myself but there is always something more urgent needing my attention." She sighed and reached for the wine pitcher then poured them both a generous measure.
John was surprised that she did this herself. He resisted the urge to look around but his eyes scanned the parts of the room he could see without moving. There were no servants in the room; no courtiers, no guards. They were completely alone. He also noticed that, though both he and Robin had been invited to dinner, only one other place was set at the table. He'd never see it but he'd bet chestnuts to chargers the queen's note to Robin had effectively said, "Be somewhere else," and Robin had dutifully handed John over on a platter.
They would need to have words about that.
The queen gestured to John's goblet. "Please try some of the wine. It's from one of my favourite vineyards."
John cautiously sipped the ruby liquid. He knew next to nothing about wine but it was very good; rich and strong with a very full taste of berries.
She leaned towards him and pointedly licked her lips. "Delightfully fruity, isn't it?"
John set his goblet down on the table and went back to staring at his lap. "It's, uh, yes, it's... very nice."
"Now... shall we eat? Before this excellent food goes cold." She took a small mouthful from the plate in front of her, allowing John to start eating his meal.
The food was, as the queen had said, excellent. John rarely got to eat beef and when he did it usually took several minutes chewing to make it anything like edible. His first bite of the generous portion in front of him almost melted in his mouth and he closed his eyes and let out a long appreciative murmur.
When he opened his eyes again the queen was regarding him with amusement. John felt the colour rising in his cheeks. "Sorry. I...It's very good."
"Please - don't apologise, John. I like a man who appreciates his food. Tell me - what do you and Robin and the others find to eat in that forest hideaway of yours?"
"Rabbit mostly. Sometimes if we're lucky we'll pinch a deer..." John voice died as he remember that, as regent, the queen was effectively the owner of Sherwood's deer. "And, uh, whatever we can forage or trade for," he quickly added.
"And do you cook or does one of the others?"
"Sometimes I do it. Much used to do it and now it's mostly Legrand's job. Was I mean. It was Legrand's job."
"That doesn't surprise me. His family had one of the finest cooks in Aquitaine. After Legrand's father died I believe Legrand spent a lot of time in the kitchen when he was not at his lessons. He must have picked up a trick or two."
Not just for cooking... thought John.
As their meal continued John started to relax. He was canny enough to realise the queen was subtly drawing him out of himself - and the wine was probably assisting her - but she was good company. She had a dry but bawdy sense of humour that matched John's own.
John had never been actively pursued by a woman before and he found he was starting to enjoy it. He caught her looking at him once or twice with a gleam in her eye that strongly suggested he was the next course and, while that idea would have made him very uncomfortable even a few short hours ago, the more he thought about it - and he was thinking about it - the more appealing a prospect it became.
It was very flattering but - at the same time - also very reassuring. He'd worried more than once that what had happened with Legrand had somehow affected his former passions. When he found himself glancing at the queen's chest and felt a stirring in his groin at the thought of kissing those beautiful, creamy breasts, all such worries vanished as quickly as his cut of beef had.
"John, I believe I owe you an apology."
He looked up at her in surprise, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. Her lips still held a hint of a smile but she also appeared sincere.
"I was quite forward in my advances to you when we first met. I believe you were embarrassed by that and for that I am sorry. It was not my intention to cause you discomfort then, nor is it now." She paused briefly before continuing. "I do hope you will accept the clothes I have provided for you as a gift. That is all that they are. They are yours to keep and there are no conditions attached to their acceptance. I do not consider that they belong to me...and neither do you," she said firmly.
"You are my queen, Your Grace," John replied.
"Yes, I am, and as such I can command you to fight for me, even die for me. I can also command that you pay taxes to me, if you paid taxes that is." She smiled as the first hint of a smile played across his lips as well. "But I cannot command you to love me. I can only hope to earn that. That is something that my son John sadly has never quite grasped," she added regretfully.
"You could command me to..." John hesitated, searching for the appropriate words.
"To sleep with me?"
John blushed for what felt like the twentieth time that evening, despite thinking his face could not possibly get any redder.
The queen chuckled - an earthy, knowing sound made by a woman who was no stranger to the act. "Yes, I dare say I could - and I dare say you may even obey me - but I have lived long enough to know that, in the end, that would bring neither of us any pleasure, beyond a fleeting physical one. I would far rather your actions were of your own choice, John. If your choice is to accept my hospitality for a while before returning to England, then I will enjoy your company for that time and we shall speak no more of it. However..."
She rose suddenly from her seat and John scrambled to push his chair back from the table but she put her hand out to him. "Please - stay seated, John." She walked round to his chair and with no formality at all, sat sideways in his lap and pulled John's hands around her waist. She put one hand on his shoulder and with the other she tilted his chin up so he was forced to meet her eyes.
"I am far too old to play courting games, John, fun though they are; they take up too much precious time. I find you very attractive and would like to take you as a lover but the choice is entirely yours. I shall neither hold it against you nor think any less of you for declining."
John coughed in surprise at her forthrightness. "I...er..." He saw the disappointment in her eyes as he struggled for words. "No! I mean, yes, er...yes, Your Grace. I would be...honoured."
Her expression relaxed. "And you choose this freely?"
"No," he said, enjoying the momentary surprise on her face. "I've been captive since I first laid eyes on you in Barnsdale Church, Your Grace. I don't think I'll ever be free again."
She laughed with delight and poked her finger into his chest. "I think there is a romantic soul buried within you, John. I look forward to bringing it out." She leaned towards him and kissed him lightly on the lips then got up from his lap.
She turned and held her hand out to him. "Shall we?"
>>----------------->
John sat on the edge of the bed, with one boot half off and his mouth hanging open.
"Aren't you going to say anything, John?" the queen teased him. "I believe it's traditional for the gentleman to make some comment about how nice the lady looks at this point...or at least finish taking his boots off."
She had disappeared a few moments after showing John into her bedchamber and asking him to take his shoes off. She reappeared wearing a long white nightgown which clung just enough to her curves to make John's mouth water. It was her hair that really caught his attention however. He had only seen it pinned up and covered or netted so he hadn't realised just how much of it there was. It fell in long, warm, chestnut waves around her shoulders and over her breasts and he could clearly see where the redness in King Richard's hair had come from.
John slid the boot completely off his foot and set it down on the floor beside him. "I... I'm sorry, Your Grace. I'm not very good with words...and I don't think there are any that would do you justice." He reached down and started pulling off his other boot.
"Not good with words, indeed. That's one of the nicest compliments I've had in years." She glanced down at his crotch and smiled wickedly. "And so is that."
John fumbled with the collar of his jacket, cursing inwardly at the unfamiliar fastenings. "I...er...You're a very beautiful woman, Your Grace."
She moved to stand directly in front of him and gently started helping him undo his clothes. "John, when we are alone together like this, I think it will be perfectly acceptable for you to call me Eleanor. As long as you remember not to do it at any other time."
"Yes, Your...Eleanor."
She slid the jacket back off his shoulders and John shrugged it off then threw it onto a nearby chair. As he turned back to her he found himself looking straight into her breasts and he gulped before lifting his head to meet her eyes.
"Are you always this nervous around women, John?"
"I haven't been around a woman for quite some time, Y...Eleanor."
"Well, I'm sure it'll all come back to you." She pinched the shoulders of his shirt between her fingers and lightly tugged upwards. He took the hint and untucked it from his waist before lifting his arms, allowing her to pull it off over his head. She tossed it over to fall on top of his jacket.
John shivered under her appraising stare. He still had his hose and braies on but he suddenly felt horribly exposed. He placed his hands on his knees and tried to slow down his breathing.
Eleanor lightly ran her fingers along the tops of his shoulders.
John noticed her frown as she looked down at him and he sighed. "I-I'm sorry if you're disappointed. Time hasn't really been very kind to me, Your Grace."
"Eleanor..." she chided. "and I'm not at all disappointed, John. I don't think it is time that has been unkind to you." Her hand rested on a jagged mark across his shoulder. "Time alone does not give you scars like that."
"No...that particular one was an arrow."
She smiled and moved her hand slightly down his chest.
"Another arrow," he said.
Her fingers shifted again, lightly tracing across his skin as he struggled to recall most of the more faded injuries. "Knife...arrow...arrow...uhh, sword...tree."
"Tree?"
"Took a slice out of me as I was running past it."
"What about those? What was that?"
John looked at the still just-visible rope burns around his wrists. "Oh. Ah. I...er...I'd rather not say."
"Did you let somebody tie you up, John? I may get jealous."
John went even more scarlet than before. "It was...it was King Richard."
"Richard?" Eleanor was puzzled.
"He thought Robin had come to try to kill him and he...he tied us up in the desert and left us to die," John said. The words brought back a vivid memory of heat and pain and helplessly watching as Legrand collapsed. "Legrand almost did. If Much, Carter and Djaq hadn't come back for us..." John's voice trailed away. He didn't need to finish that sentence and he didn't want to think about what may have happened if they'd been even an hour later.
"I'm so sorry, John. I had no idea. That must have been awful."
He shrugged. "I've had worse days. Not many, but still..."
Eleanor gently lifted his arm to her lips and kissed the inside of his wrist. John was surprised by the reaction that simple touch sparked further down his body.
"You will need to tell me the stories behind your other scars."
"That could take quite a while."
"One thing I no longer feel the need to do at my age, John...is rush." She lightly pressed her fingers to his chest and he lay backwards on the bed. "To me you are still a young and handsome man, scars and all. In fact the scars are quite...exciting. They give you a suitably dangerous air."
"Well I am still an outlaw," John said, with a sheepish grin.
"Heavens - and here I am all alone with you." She laughed as she leaned over him and started slowly untying his braies.
"Mmm, and somehow I'm the more nervous of us both," John said, only half-joking.
"And why is that, John?" Eleanor gently lifted aside one half of the front of John's braies, exposing his curly dark-brown hair.
"Because...you're a very beautiful and desirable woman - and a queen - and I... I very much want to please you," he answered honestly.
"Not good with words...I think that must be the only lie you've told me." Eleanor smiled at him as she slid her hand inside the remaining closed side of his braies. She ran her hand slowly across his groin and rested it on his hip, smiling as she felt his arousal pressing against her through his clothes. "I think you're going to please me tremendously, John..."
To be continued. . .
Author: wastingyourgum
Characters/Pairings: Robin, Little John/Queen Eleanor
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, Het
Words: 3000
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Beta'd by robinfanatic and jagnikjen .
Introduction and chapter links for Denial II are here...
Summary: Eleanor makes her move...
>>-------------------->
Chapter 27: First of a Million Kisses
For your smile is a prayer that prays for love
And your heart is a kite that longs to fly,
Allelujah! Here I am - let's cut the strings tonight.
We'll kiss the first of a million kisses and let the past fall away...
- Allelujah, Fairground Attraction
John spent most of the time during his first few days at Poitiers walking through or just sitting in the gardens while Robin attempted to teach him some basic French. Robin had also offered to help him read and write it but John had shaken his head, reminding Robin he'd only just learned that in his own language and had no hope of doing so in another.
Legrand was relishing imposing his dominance on the Royal Guard training grounds after his recent appointment. Much and Carter spent a lot of time training with him, maintaining their battle fitness in anticipation of returning to the Holy Land. Brooks also took the opportunity for some training - and admiring some of the trainees.
Robin and John would occasionally watch from the ramparts but they were tired of fighting for the time being and didn't go down to join in. It was the only chance John had to even see Legrand as the Frenchman knew Poitiers' corridors far better and always seemed to disappear each time John spotted him. After the first few times this happened John realised Legrand was distancing himself from John completely. With a heavy heart, John stopped even watching him train and went back to the gardens.
John had still not even seen the queen when an invitation came on the third day for Lord Locksley to attend a private dinner in her chambers that evening. John would accompany him as his servant. It should have been John's duty to help his "master" get dressed but Robin took pity on him and reversed their roles for that task. John found himself standing with Robin in front of the door to the queen's chambers, freshly scrubbed and more nervous than he'd ever been before any battle. The door opened and they were shown in by a young courtier who promptly excused himself and left through the same door.
"Robin." The queen swept regally towards them. She was wearing a deep blue dress which showed off not only her complexion but also some of her finest assets in John's eyes. She held out her hand to Robin, who bowed and kissed it.
"Your Grace." Robin turned and gestured to John. "You've already met John Little."
"Of course. It is a pleasure to see you again, John." She smiled and proffered her hand to John.
"Your Grace." John bowed and kissed it, grateful for Robin's lessons on court etiquette and for the chance to tear his gaze away from her before it betrayed him. She was even more beautiful than he'd remembered from their brief time together in England almost a year previously.
"Before we dine I have something here which I think you should see, Robin." She picked up a piece of parchment from a desk by the window and handed it to him.
Robin read the note and handed it back to her. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm sorry but I must deal with this immediately. I hope you can forgive me."
"You're leaving me without a dining companion? No, I'm afraid that is unforgivable. Do you both need to go?" the queen asked.
Robin shrugged. "I suppose not. John - I'll see you later. Your Grace." He bowed and left the room before John even had a chance to realise what had happened.
He was on his own.
"So, John, tell me..." She sat at the head of the small dining table and directed him to a chair beside hers. "Are you enjoying your stay here?"
John took a deep breath and sat down. "Very much so, Your Grace. Your gardens are beautiful." He clutched his hands nervously together in his lap, remembering Robin's instructions on not eating or drinking until the queen did.
"They are, aren't they? Especially at this time of year. You can almost feel the sap rising in the air," she enthused. "I would have loved to show you them myself but there is always something more urgent needing my attention." She sighed and reached for the wine pitcher then poured them both a generous measure.
John was surprised that she did this herself. He resisted the urge to look around but his eyes scanned the parts of the room he could see without moving. There were no servants in the room; no courtiers, no guards. They were completely alone. He also noticed that, though both he and Robin had been invited to dinner, only one other place was set at the table. He'd never see it but he'd bet chestnuts to chargers the queen's note to Robin had effectively said, "Be somewhere else," and Robin had dutifully handed John over on a platter.
They would need to have words about that.
The queen gestured to John's goblet. "Please try some of the wine. It's from one of my favourite vineyards."
John cautiously sipped the ruby liquid. He knew next to nothing about wine but it was very good; rich and strong with a very full taste of berries.
She leaned towards him and pointedly licked her lips. "Delightfully fruity, isn't it?"
John set his goblet down on the table and went back to staring at his lap. "It's, uh, yes, it's... very nice."
"Now... shall we eat? Before this excellent food goes cold." She took a small mouthful from the plate in front of her, allowing John to start eating his meal.
The food was, as the queen had said, excellent. John rarely got to eat beef and when he did it usually took several minutes chewing to make it anything like edible. His first bite of the generous portion in front of him almost melted in his mouth and he closed his eyes and let out a long appreciative murmur.
When he opened his eyes again the queen was regarding him with amusement. John felt the colour rising in his cheeks. "Sorry. I...It's very good."
"Please - don't apologise, John. I like a man who appreciates his food. Tell me - what do you and Robin and the others find to eat in that forest hideaway of yours?"
"Rabbit mostly. Sometimes if we're lucky we'll pinch a deer..." John voice died as he remember that, as regent, the queen was effectively the owner of Sherwood's deer. "And, uh, whatever we can forage or trade for," he quickly added.
"And do you cook or does one of the others?"
"Sometimes I do it. Much used to do it and now it's mostly Legrand's job. Was I mean. It was Legrand's job."
"That doesn't surprise me. His family had one of the finest cooks in Aquitaine. After Legrand's father died I believe Legrand spent a lot of time in the kitchen when he was not at his lessons. He must have picked up a trick or two."
Not just for cooking... thought John.
As their meal continued John started to relax. He was canny enough to realise the queen was subtly drawing him out of himself - and the wine was probably assisting her - but she was good company. She had a dry but bawdy sense of humour that matched John's own.
John had never been actively pursued by a woman before and he found he was starting to enjoy it. He caught her looking at him once or twice with a gleam in her eye that strongly suggested he was the next course and, while that idea would have made him very uncomfortable even a few short hours ago, the more he thought about it - and he was thinking about it - the more appealing a prospect it became.
It was very flattering but - at the same time - also very reassuring. He'd worried more than once that what had happened with Legrand had somehow affected his former passions. When he found himself glancing at the queen's chest and felt a stirring in his groin at the thought of kissing those beautiful, creamy breasts, all such worries vanished as quickly as his cut of beef had.
"John, I believe I owe you an apology."
He looked up at her in surprise, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. Her lips still held a hint of a smile but she also appeared sincere.
"I was quite forward in my advances to you when we first met. I believe you were embarrassed by that and for that I am sorry. It was not my intention to cause you discomfort then, nor is it now." She paused briefly before continuing. "I do hope you will accept the clothes I have provided for you as a gift. That is all that they are. They are yours to keep and there are no conditions attached to their acceptance. I do not consider that they belong to me...and neither do you," she said firmly.
"You are my queen, Your Grace," John replied.
"Yes, I am, and as such I can command you to fight for me, even die for me. I can also command that you pay taxes to me, if you paid taxes that is." She smiled as the first hint of a smile played across his lips as well. "But I cannot command you to love me. I can only hope to earn that. That is something that my son John sadly has never quite grasped," she added regretfully.
"You could command me to..." John hesitated, searching for the appropriate words.
"To sleep with me?"
John blushed for what felt like the twentieth time that evening, despite thinking his face could not possibly get any redder.
The queen chuckled - an earthy, knowing sound made by a woman who was no stranger to the act. "Yes, I dare say I could - and I dare say you may even obey me - but I have lived long enough to know that, in the end, that would bring neither of us any pleasure, beyond a fleeting physical one. I would far rather your actions were of your own choice, John. If your choice is to accept my hospitality for a while before returning to England, then I will enjoy your company for that time and we shall speak no more of it. However..."
She rose suddenly from her seat and John scrambled to push his chair back from the table but she put her hand out to him. "Please - stay seated, John." She walked round to his chair and with no formality at all, sat sideways in his lap and pulled John's hands around her waist. She put one hand on his shoulder and with the other she tilted his chin up so he was forced to meet her eyes.
"I am far too old to play courting games, John, fun though they are; they take up too much precious time. I find you very attractive and would like to take you as a lover but the choice is entirely yours. I shall neither hold it against you nor think any less of you for declining."
John coughed in surprise at her forthrightness. "I...er..." He saw the disappointment in her eyes as he struggled for words. "No! I mean, yes, er...yes, Your Grace. I would be...honoured."
Her expression relaxed. "And you choose this freely?"
"No," he said, enjoying the momentary surprise on her face. "I've been captive since I first laid eyes on you in Barnsdale Church, Your Grace. I don't think I'll ever be free again."
She laughed with delight and poked her finger into his chest. "I think there is a romantic soul buried within you, John. I look forward to bringing it out." She leaned towards him and kissed him lightly on the lips then got up from his lap.
She turned and held her hand out to him. "Shall we?"
>>----------------->
John sat on the edge of the bed, with one boot half off and his mouth hanging open.
"Aren't you going to say anything, John?" the queen teased him. "I believe it's traditional for the gentleman to make some comment about how nice the lady looks at this point...or at least finish taking his boots off."
She had disappeared a few moments after showing John into her bedchamber and asking him to take his shoes off. She reappeared wearing a long white nightgown which clung just enough to her curves to make John's mouth water. It was her hair that really caught his attention however. He had only seen it pinned up and covered or netted so he hadn't realised just how much of it there was. It fell in long, warm, chestnut waves around her shoulders and over her breasts and he could clearly see where the redness in King Richard's hair had come from.
John slid the boot completely off his foot and set it down on the floor beside him. "I... I'm sorry, Your Grace. I'm not very good with words...and I don't think there are any that would do you justice." He reached down and started pulling off his other boot.
"Not good with words, indeed. That's one of the nicest compliments I've had in years." She glanced down at his crotch and smiled wickedly. "And so is that."
John fumbled with the collar of his jacket, cursing inwardly at the unfamiliar fastenings. "I...er...You're a very beautiful woman, Your Grace."
She moved to stand directly in front of him and gently started helping him undo his clothes. "John, when we are alone together like this, I think it will be perfectly acceptable for you to call me Eleanor. As long as you remember not to do it at any other time."
"Yes, Your...Eleanor."
She slid the jacket back off his shoulders and John shrugged it off then threw it onto a nearby chair. As he turned back to her he found himself looking straight into her breasts and he gulped before lifting his head to meet her eyes.
"Are you always this nervous around women, John?"
"I haven't been around a woman for quite some time, Y...Eleanor."
"Well, I'm sure it'll all come back to you." She pinched the shoulders of his shirt between her fingers and lightly tugged upwards. He took the hint and untucked it from his waist before lifting his arms, allowing her to pull it off over his head. She tossed it over to fall on top of his jacket.
John shivered under her appraising stare. He still had his hose and braies on but he suddenly felt horribly exposed. He placed his hands on his knees and tried to slow down his breathing.
Eleanor lightly ran her fingers along the tops of his shoulders.
John noticed her frown as she looked down at him and he sighed. "I-I'm sorry if you're disappointed. Time hasn't really been very kind to me, Your Grace."
"Eleanor..." she chided. "and I'm not at all disappointed, John. I don't think it is time that has been unkind to you." Her hand rested on a jagged mark across his shoulder. "Time alone does not give you scars like that."
"No...that particular one was an arrow."
She smiled and moved her hand slightly down his chest.
"Another arrow," he said.
Her fingers shifted again, lightly tracing across his skin as he struggled to recall most of the more faded injuries. "Knife...arrow...arrow...uhh, sword...tree."
"Tree?"
"Took a slice out of me as I was running past it."
"What about those? What was that?"
John looked at the still just-visible rope burns around his wrists. "Oh. Ah. I...er...I'd rather not say."
"Did you let somebody tie you up, John? I may get jealous."
John went even more scarlet than before. "It was...it was King Richard."
"Richard?" Eleanor was puzzled.
"He thought Robin had come to try to kill him and he...he tied us up in the desert and left us to die," John said. The words brought back a vivid memory of heat and pain and helplessly watching as Legrand collapsed. "Legrand almost did. If Much, Carter and Djaq hadn't come back for us..." John's voice trailed away. He didn't need to finish that sentence and he didn't want to think about what may have happened if they'd been even an hour later.
"I'm so sorry, John. I had no idea. That must have been awful."
He shrugged. "I've had worse days. Not many, but still..."
Eleanor gently lifted his arm to her lips and kissed the inside of his wrist. John was surprised by the reaction that simple touch sparked further down his body.
"You will need to tell me the stories behind your other scars."
"That could take quite a while."
"One thing I no longer feel the need to do at my age, John...is rush." She lightly pressed her fingers to his chest and he lay backwards on the bed. "To me you are still a young and handsome man, scars and all. In fact the scars are quite...exciting. They give you a suitably dangerous air."
"Well I am still an outlaw," John said, with a sheepish grin.
"Heavens - and here I am all alone with you." She laughed as she leaned over him and started slowly untying his braies.
"Mmm, and somehow I'm the more nervous of us both," John said, only half-joking.
"And why is that, John?" Eleanor gently lifted aside one half of the front of John's braies, exposing his curly dark-brown hair.
"Because...you're a very beautiful and desirable woman - and a queen - and I... I very much want to please you," he answered honestly.
"Not good with words...I think that must be the only lie you've told me." Eleanor smiled at him as she slid her hand inside the remaining closed side of his braies. She ran her hand slowly across his groin and rested it on his hip, smiling as she felt his arousal pressing against her through his clothes. "I think you're going to please me tremendously, John..."
To be continued. . .