Mr Frodo

My constant companion...

Extract From Snow

Anais’ contentment with her life changed late one winter’s afternoon. She had been sitting in her bedroom, gazing into her silver mirror and admiring the golden waterfall of hair as it fell over her bare shoulders. Outside, in the courtyard there was a sudden commotion, dogs barking, the clatter of hooves and the shouts of men. Frowning she went to her window and looked out. A hunting party, she thought, eyeing the carcase of a deer which was flung over the back of one horse. Disinterested she turned away when the sudden screech of a large bird of prey and a man’s voice cursing drew her eyes back to the window.

Below her a man wrestled with the falcon that bated madly upon his wrist and with the horse that plunged wildly beneath his thighs. The bird screeched again and the horse sidled and snorted. The man clamped his thighs tightly around the horse bringing it under control. Crooning under his breath he drew his hand down the bird’s sleek breast, soothing and stroking it to quiescence. Then he glanced up and Anais felt her breath stop in her throat.

He was dark. Dark like midnight.

 Dark like death.

 Hair as black as coal, worn long and loose framing a face of wicked beauty. A mouth, lush and sensual, made for kissing and his eyes…Deepest, darkest blue and so clear that Anais could see herself reflected in their surface as though she looked into a mirror. He smiled up at her and Anais had never desired anything or anyone as much as she desired the dark stranger below her. Her gaze locked with his and in the mirror of his eyes she could see that he found her beautiful too. The bird screeched again and he turned back to it, breaking the link between them. Anais gasped and pulled back from the window. She felt hot and cold at the same time, her limbs twitching, her heart racing. A strange dark fluttering low in her stomach and between her legs…

Pulling her scattered thoughts together she left her room and sent one of her ladies to discover who he was.

The King’s new huntsman, the bastard son of some northern lord but high in his father’s favour it was said. A close friend to her husband in his youth, the father had petitioned a position for his son in the King’s household. 

“Rui Alvarez,” said Anais’ lady in waiting and his name slid down Anais’ throat like honeyed wine.

* * * * * * *

That night, at the banquet thrown in honour of some visiting ambassador whose name she could not recall, Anais could feel Rui’s gaze on her like a hot knife pressed to her throat but she ignored him, choosing instead to flirt with some beardless nobleman’s son who blushed and stammered under her attention. Only once did she sense his scrutiny waver, when Snow White and her seven silent shadows made their way to the King’s throne to wish him a goodnight. Then Anais felt the absence of his regard like a dash of cold water to her face and turned to see his dark blue eyes following the girl as she left the room. Anais chose that moment to cease her games with the bumbling youth and to let Rui Alvarez know she wanted him. It required little effort on her part to turn his thoughts back to her and away from her stepdaughter, the Snow Bitch, as she liked to call her.

His eyes locked on hers and for the first time in her life she felt her power as a woman. The pulse that beat in his throat was echoed in the throbbing beat in Anais’ core. The costly silk of her bronze gown rubbed against nipples that had tightened, becoming exquisitely sensitive. Was this desire? She wanted him.

How she wanted him.

Rui came to her room after midnight. She had sent her women away and answered the door herself. He had barely entered the room before he pulled her to him and drew his mouth across hers in a kiss that should have set the room on fire, so hot and hungry was it. His lips were soft. His mouth tasted of wine and wet dark heat. Anais could feel his erection, thick and hard, pressing against her belly. She shoved away thoughts of her husband’s cold hands and wilting phallus, imagining instead Rui’s lean, muscled body and handsome face hovering over her and grew wet with hunger.

“I could take you here, now, on the floor,” Rui breathed against her mouth. “But maybe we should use the bed? This time.”

Anais blushed, swallowing nervously. She wanted him but she had never done this with any man other than her husband. Would he find her lacking? He followed her to the bed, eying the golden silk hangings, the finely woven sheets of Semian cotton with a grin. “I’ve never fucked a queen before,” he said, then kissed her hard again before she could consider his words any further.

Anais stood and watched him as he undressed, her mouth dry. His eyes never left hers and she could see that he knew she found him desirable and that it pleased him.  When he was naked, he stood with his head up, his hands hanging loose at his side allowing Anais to appreciate the way his heavy muscles moved under his skin, the broad shoulders and narrow waist. The long legs. He was beautiful.

Sitting on the bed he let his eyes roam over Anais’ face, then lower. “Take off your dress,” he rasped.

She turned her back to him. “I’ll need you to undo the buttons.”

She heard him draw in a deep breath. He patted the bed beside him. “Sit here.”

Anais sat beside him. His fingers tugged at her buttons. As he freed them she felt the cool night air brush against the bared skin of her back. His hand caressed her neck, the fingers warm and sure. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade and she shivered.

“There,” he said thickly. She pushed the dress down over her arms then stood to let it fall about her feet. “Turn around,” he commanded.

Anais faced him, letting her eyes roam boldly over his body. She felt moisture pool between her legs. Dear god, but he was beautiful. Long and lean, sharply delineated muscles sliding beneath his smooth pale skin. Between his thighs in a patch of thick dark hair, his erection rose like a column of marble. She traced one throbbing vein with her fingertip and he gasped. His hand shot out and grasped her wrist in a grip tight enough to bruise. He took her other wrist and drew her down towards him.

His lips touched hers. For the barest second they were soft, gentle. Then his tongue swept into her mouth and it was no longer a kiss. It was a war…