Dinner was a more awkward event than usual. Patrick and Garrett sat on opposite sides of the fire, glowering at each other. Whatever they'd discussed, it didn't seem to have gone well. The princess had finally been allowed out of the tent, just long enough to eat some food before she stumbled back to rest, looking completely exhausted. She'd seemed rather subdued, the first time Bridget had ever seen her in such a state. Going by the comments the men were making, mostly Samuel and Blaine although with a few interjections from Patrick, they had been keeping her quite... busy.

Even though he had to have been satiated by his time with the princess, Samuel kept leering at Bridget's legs, making her feel even more bare. As the evening darkened, her form was beginning to show through the light fabric of the shirt whenever the fire was behind her. Blaine, as usual, remained fairly indifferent, although he did occasionally eye her legs appreciatively. They all seemed to enjoy looking at her, even though she was nominally covered and they had all seen her bare before. It was as if just barely hiding her attributes made her all the more desirable

Unsurprisingly it was not a feeling she relished. It only made her feel more vulnerable and afraid to have all four men's eyes following her. Especially after she'd seen the way in which three men could use a woman at one time.

"Come, little maid," Patrick said as he stood up, his eyes glittering brightly in the campfire. The orange glow highlighted Garrett's face as well, making it look eerily shadowed. She turned her head away, not wanting to look at him and see anything more that might confuse her. "I find I'm still... hungry.”

Patrick walked beside her, his hand sliding down her back and cupping her buttocks as they walked away, to Samuel's loud jokes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Garrett heading into the tent where the princess was. Fiercely she told herself that she should have expected no less.

Once in the tent, Patrick tugged his shirt off of her and tossed it aside. There was no bulge in his breeches. Considering his penchant for fear and pain, Bridget found herself trembling again. She had hoped she was beyond her capacity to feel any anxiety, but wondering what Patrick might do to her to arouse himself had her feeling slightly panicked again. Already her experiences with him had been far beyond anything she had ever imagined might arouse a man.

"On your hands and knees," he ordered, pointing at his bedroll. Bridget knelt and leaned forward, placing her hands on the cushion of the bedroll and awaiting her fate. Patrick stepped around her, observing this position from every angle, from her swaying breasts to her upturned rump and her vulnerable sex. She lowered her head, tension in every line of her body as he dropped to his knees beside her, his hand smoothing down her back and over her bottom. "You have a very pretty ass, little maid. But it'd be prettier if it were pink."

And then he slapped her. Bridget yelped, more in surprise than true pain. Although the slap had stung, it was its unexpectedness that caused her exclamation. Patrick just laughed and then spanked her again. His hand began to pepper her bottom with stinging slaps, just enough to make her squirm. Reaching under her body with his free hand, he began to cup and play with her breasts, tugging on her hanging nipples with enough force to elicit some moans for her. As he pulled on her nipples she arched her back to follow the tug, which pushed her ass up further as his hand came down.

The combination of him pulling her nipples and slapping her buttocks to a rosy hue was more arousing than she would have warranted. Her fear receded as none of his hits were particularly hard, although her bottom was becoming sore from the repeated impacts even if they weren't brutal. She dared to glance at his face and saw an expression of enjoyment, although not the same kind of lust as when he'd been toying with her and his knife. Perhaps Garrett's protection ran further than she had thought. Not that she was going to feel grateful for it right now.

When her entire bottom was pinked and sore, her unprotected sex feeling rather swollen beneath her rosy cheeks, Patrick released her nipple and stood, walking back over to the saddle bags. When he returned he reached for her right hand and spread a liberal amount of oil from the bottle he'd brought out over her fingers. Bridget stared up at him, wondering what the oil was for.

The wicked grin on his face was not encouraging.

"Time to oil up your arsehole, little maid, unless you want me to stuff my cock in there dry," he said, nodding at her oily fingers to indicate that she was going to be taking care of the preparations herself. Bridget was horrified, but the idea of him shoving his rod into her bumhole without any kind of help was much worse than using her own fingers to do the deed

Hesitantly, her face flaming redder than her beaten bottom in humiliation, Bridget reached around her body and put one finger to her bumhole. It felt crinkly and dry beneath her touch, and incredibly lewdly wrong. Patrick's lascivious gaze on her hand and its target only made her feel worse.

"Please," she said, begging. "Can't you do it?"

"Of course I could, but I don't want to. I want to watch you do it. So it's you or nothing."

The pleased expression on his face said that he enjoyed her begging and her humiliation as much as he had enjoyed her fear earlier. Somehow Bridget thought that fear and pleas were not fare that he received from the princess with any kind of regularity.

Taking a deep breath, Bridget looked away from him so she wouldn't have to see his face as he watched her and she began to push her finger into her tight rear entry. She could hear the rustling movement as Patrick slid to a better position to watch her finger parting her rosy cheeks, rudely pushing into her posterior. Eased by the oil, she could still feel the tight ring of muscle squeezing her digit as she pushed past it into the hot recesses of her bum. One knuckle... two... and then her finger slid in all the way to the knuckles on her hand.

"That's it," Patrick said, his voice much more lustful than it had been before. "Now pump it back and forth. I want to watch you frig your arse."

Her humiliation knew no bounds. Having any kind of audience for lewd behavior was terrible. No wonder the princess hadn't wanted to be watched earlier. Bridget could only be thankful that her audience only had one member. Dragging her finger back out of her backside almost all the way, Bridget pushed it back in as she let out her breath. The movement burned slightly even with the oil, even with her slim fingers. Since Garrett had not penetrated her this way the night before, her hole had closed up to its original proportions, before the men had started using it for their base pleasures.

Patrick watched her work her finger back and forth for a few minutes, all of her weight resting on her other arm, her head hanging down in shame at her actions. "Add another finger. Oil up that tight little hole so I can fuck it."

She shivered at the blatant desire in his voice, the knowledge that he was enjoying her debasement. But she added another finger, stretching her hole further as she twisted them back and forth, pushing in and out of her own arsehole, now slickly oiled and stretching a little more easily. It felt strangely good, arousing even, and she could knew that her nether lips were becoming glossy with fluid, clearing showing Patrick her arousal.

"One more," he commanded in a husky voice. Wincing a little, Bridget pulled her fingers out and then began to press three fingers in, feeling overly stuffed as she forced her digits into her protesting backside. Her hole strained with the effort of accommodating all three fingers and she whimpered a little as the tight little tunnel convulsed. The inside of her body was so hot and soft, so strangely appealing. Having felt her interior for herself, she could almost understand a little better why the men wished to plunder this alternate entry.

Twisting her fingers back and forth, a shudder of pleasure rippled through her body. She had become all too accustomed to invasion and erotic torment, primed to climax from the many activities in which the men engaged in with her, and her body reacted accordingly as she buggered herself.

Then Patrick's hand was on her wrist, moving her hand faster and more roughly, forcing her to frig her backside harder. She cried out at the sudden force, her tight ring spasming as he manipulated her movements. After a few minutes of violating her with her own hand, Patrick pulled her fingers from her rear door and pressed the head of his cock to the prepared entrance. Her weight now balanced on both hands, Patrick began to push his way into her oiled hole. Bridget groaned as her tight entrance contracted around the thick mushroom head, which stabbed deeper into her protesting body, forcing her crinkled hole open. The wrinkles of her little hole smoothed out as it expanded to accommodate Patrick's rod, straining to accept the wide girth which was pressing its way in.

"Aaaahhh fuck..." Patrick said, groaning as he moved his hips back and then shoved forward, impaling her body on his marauding cock. "Bloody hell you've got a nice, tight arse..."

His hands, which had been resting on her lower back, now smoothed down to her hips, fingers curling around to the front of her body, as he began to rock back and forth until she was completely stuffed with his cock. Bridget groaned with the straining pleasure, the delicate walls of her tunnel burning from the rubbing friction of his fleshy spear as it spread her open. The hard grip on her hips was used to pull her back and forth, much harder and faster than she was used to at the beginning of an arse-reaming and Bridget cried out her protests.

"Please! Slower!!! Please go slower... it hurts..." She squirmed, trying to move away, to slow his thrusts into her shocked bumhole, but Patrick just held her even tighter and ignored her pleas. Enjoyed them, rather. Bridget's head lowered down to the ground as she blinked away tears, his hands holding her arse high in the air so it almost looked like she was bowing before him as he plugged her rear passage. Slowly her muscles grew accustomed to their new dimensions, the sharp pains from his brutal thrusts dwindling as the assault continued and her body adjusted.

As her core heated, her backside pressing against his thrusting groin, Bridget's moans slowly evolved from pained to pleasured. Patrick's legs shifted between hers, spreading her knees even wider. Sliding his hands from her hips up to her breasts, he pulled her upwards. Surprised, Bridget reached back with her arms and wrapped them around his neck for support as he squeezed her breasts roughly, creamy white flesh spilling out from between his fingers. She cried out as he thrust upwards savagely, her body jerking against his in this new position.

"Rub your cunt," he whispered in her ear. Almost in a daze, Bridget released one hand from around his neck and moved it down to her pussy. She moaned as her fingers slid into her slick folds, pressing down on her swollen pearl of pleasure. Patrick pinched her nipples tightly and she undulated, her bottom bouncing off of his thighs as he began to use her breasts to leverage himself rather brutally into her straining arsehole, pillaging between her sweet cheeks.

"Oh!" Bridget gasped, her head falling back as she began to rub vigorously between her splayed legs. Being so much shorter than Patrick, with his legs between hers, her knees didn't quite touch the ground and all of her weight was centered on the pole which was ravaging her body. Her cunt was slippery and wet, and her back door convulsed around the thick meat inside of it as she pleasured herself. The sensation of being so wonderfully full in her rear passage only enhancing the pleasure that she was now bringing to herself with her fingers.

Patrick squeezed her breasts hard as his teeth nipped at her earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. The numerous sensations that Bridget was experiencing was becoming overwhelming. The position had her lewdly on display and for some reason every time she closed her eyes all she could see was Garrett's face, promising he wouldn't allow her to be harmed. It was almost as if he was a third presence in the tent, and the fantasy of his eyes being on her as she was so lewdly displayed and used had the unfortunate effect of arousing her even further.

Her back arched, pleasure coursing from her fingers in her soft folds up through her body and she let out a cry as the tension inside of her began to reach unbearable lengths.

"My name," Patrick growled, pumping harder up into her. "Say my name."

Bridget shook her head and then shrieked as his fingers pinched and twisted her nipples cruelly, the shocking pain slicing through her pleasure and deflecting her from her release.

"My name," he demanded.

"Patrick," she whispered, her body straining outwards until the pressure on her nipples lessened somewhat. She moaned as he leaned her forward more slightly, allowing him to thrust more forcefully into her abused backside.

"Louder." Another twist of her nipples and another shriek.

"Patrick!... oh God!" Bridget half sobbed as she climaxed, the sharp pinch of her nipples becoming entwined in the throbbing pleasure that was now coursing through her body, wetness spilling onto her fingers. Teeth clamped down on the sensitive flesh between her neck and shoulders, sucking and biting hard and she screamed. Her body tightened and clamped down on Patrick's hard shaft, pulling at him as if she was trying to suck him into the dark recesses of her back chamber.

In response he yelled loudly as his seed spilled into her, pulsing against her interior as he filled her hole with cream. Bridget writhed in his lap, her bottom grinding down on top of him as the waves of ecstasy rolled through her, her tight crevice milking his cock of every drop it could hold. Pain blurred with rapture and sent her cresting high, confusing her senses. She came crashing down, and it took her a moment to realize her quivering muscles had loosened her hold on Patrick and she had fallen forward in front of him, upper body resting on the bedroll and his cock still firmly embedded in her backside.

His hands were back on her hips and he rocked, groaning with satisfaction as he made a last few strokes of pleasure with his softening cock. When he pulled himself free of her body she whimpered, her pleasure slowly fading and leaving her now feeling the soreness and aches from Patrick's rough handling, although she also felt a woozy sense of satiation as well.

"Very nice," Patrick said approvingly and slapped her rump. Bridget stifled a moan.

When he took her outside to clean themselves off, Bridget thought she saw a figure in the woods. Apparently either Samuel or Blaine had finished with the princess for a while and was keeping watch.

The thought that Garrett was still in the other tent shouldn't have made her feel miserable. It really shouldn't.

********

Seeing Bridget tending to herself after fucking Patrick shouldn't have aroused him, but it did. Desire, accompanied by a sense of relief that she obviously hadn't been too badly used, was his overwhelming emotion. Unfortunately. Because Patrick had made it quite clear that Garrett wasn't going to get anywhere near Bridget tonight.

For some time now he and Patrick had been butting heads. His impatience and distaste for the other man was becoming harder to hide, probably due in large part to the knowledge that his time with these men was coming to a close, after almost three years. The other part came from Patrick's suspicions of Garrett. In the time he'd been with them, there had only been two other women that they'd captured and taken with them to use, and Garrett knew Patrick suspected he had helped both of them escape.

Which, of course, he had.

But Patrick didn't know for sure. Garrett was careful to treat women similarly to his companions, even though he had no taste for their brutality. A bottom spanked red or sweet ass plugged did appeal, but not the way these men did it. At least with him there he could make sure the women were cared for and not abused too badly. If he got some enjoyment from them, well it was because he had needed the men he traveled with and he did help them escape as soon as possible. Unharmed if not unmolested.

Now having women in the camp was only exacerbating the issue. All along he'd been thinking that when he left he'd help the women escape with him. It would be harder than the times before since they weren't near a city, but he was a better tracker than any of the other men and he felt sure he could keep them from being able to follow him, even with two women. Especially if he took three of the horses.

He'd never thought Patrick might decide to switch women for a night. It had disturbed him more than he thought. When Garrett had gone back into the tent with the princess, to ascertain that she was unharmed, she had been asleep and he had not availed himself of her services. Although he'd let Samuel and Blaine think he had. If Patrick hadn't insisted earlier this afternoon, he wouldn't have had anything to do with her. She held absolutely no appeal to him.

Bridget on the other hand...

He wasn't sure if it was her plucky spirit, her perseverance, or her inner strength that he admired most. Of course, it was just admiration that he felt for her, after all he'd never seen a woman quite like her. No hysterics. No begging. Just an acceptance of the situation, and yet the gumption to try and figure out an escape. He'd seen the gleam in her eyes. And the frustration when the princess had attempted it. At the same time she had an air of innocence about her, a vulnerable quality that made him want to protect her.

Which is how he'd ended up threatening Patrick before allowing the other man to take her off to his tent. Both times. And hadn't listening to that been exquisite torture. Not because he thought Patrick would truly go against his demand that she not be harmed, but because he couldn't help but picture what was happening. There had been a churning nausea in his stomach as he'd listened to Patrick use Bridget, even more so this evening when he'd heard her pleas. He'd been able to tell Patrick wasn't doing anything that would truly harm her, but the urge to burst into the tent and tear the man off her had been surprisingly strong.

Now it looked like his lonely watch was done. She hadn't been harmed and that was the only reason he'd stayed up, listening. To make sure Patrick hadn't hurt her. Only that. Nothing more. Of course.

Rubbing his face in his hands, too tired to try and sort out his conflicting emotions or the unsettling sensation that his brain was trying to tell him something he didn't want to hear, Garrett headed back to his tent. From the sounds of it, the other occupants were thankfully asleep.

Only a few more days and then his mission would be done and he could go back home. After helping the women escape.

Incongruously, he wondered if Bridget would like England.

*****

A creature of habit, Bridget woke in the morning at her usual time, feeling very sore after her exertions from the day before. Outside she could hear the movements indicating Garrett was up and moving. She didn't hear anyone else though, which must mean he had left the princess in the other tent. Suddenly she felt a bit more cheerful, even though she shouldn't be feeling any such thing in these circumstances.

Sliding out of Patrick's bedroll, she quietly put on her clothes and went outside to help Garrett with the morning's preparations. He looked at her but didn't say anything as she joined him, moving about the campsite. They had done this enough times now that it was almost like a dance, both of them knowing exactly what the other person was going to be doing next and making sure they stayed out of each other's way. It was going to be a beautiful morning, she could tell, and she didn't even mind her body aching a bit. Moving around helped work out some of her muscles.

Suddenly Garrett grabbed her arm and she jumped, yelping a bit with the surprise of it. Looking up at him with big eyes she was surprised to see him glaring at her neck. Despite his firm grip on her arm, his fingers were gentle as they brushed over her neck, and she winced, surprised as the small touch caused a bit of pain.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You don't know?" The look he was giving her was so strange and unsettling. Bridget bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. She wasn't afraid of him exactly, but there was something darkly intense about his eyes, as if he was holding back a great deal of anger and she didn't know why. "He bit you."

"He what?" Shocked, she reached up and felt the spot... it was quite tender and the memory of Patrick's mouth biting down on her in just this spot as she'd climaxed came rushing back to her. Heat filled her cheeks and she looked away from Garrett, feeling suddenly exposed and ashamed. "Did he break skin?"

"No," he said, quietly, moving her hand away so that he could lean in and inspect it closer. "It's just bruised. You'll be fine."

"Thank you for the information," Bridget snapped, suddenly angry at him as she jerked her arm away. Easy for him to say she'd be fine, there was nothing about this situation that made her feel fine. Nothing at all. It was times like this that she had to remind herself that he truly didn't care. "It would be a shame if your toy was damaged."

Glaring up at him she found him glaring back at her, his face looking like a thundercloud.

"Lover's quarrel?" Patrick's sardonic tones slid across them, cutting her to the quick. Lovers? Her and Garrett? Perhaps in the physical sense, but she didn't have a choice. And even if she did... well... okay, well she didn't know what she would do, but seeing as he was a lawbreaker and a rogue she would refuse him. Maybe if he wasn't a bandit but... no, stupid to think on what ifs. Bridget looked away as Garrett scoffed.

"Hardly," he drawled, but there was something in his voice she couldn't quite determine the meaning of. As if he was shaken by Patrick's sudden appearance as well. "I was just wondering how her night fared and how accommodating she might be this morning."

Accommodating? For him? She'd stab him with the vegetable knife, right now, given half a chance. But... her thoughts twisted. That's not what they had been talking about. He'd been inspecting the bite mark Patrick had given her. Which was the act—his care for her wound or his indifference to her now?

"There's always the princess if you'd like to be serviced," Patrick said with a smirk, coming over to the fire and getting his breakfast.

"She's more than used up after last night," Garrett replied dryly. Then he too sat down to breakfast, directly across from Patrick, almost as if they were facing off. A strange kind of tension seemed to be filling the little clearing. Uncomfortable, Bridget quietly got her own food and sat down to eat. If Garrett did want pleasuring she knew she would be expected to provide it, but she was starving and confused by his conflicting words and actions. "I think she'll appreciate you more now though."

"Gave her quite a ride did you?"

"You have no idea."

The word "ride" seemed to stab Bridget directly in the gut, even though it wasn't Garrett who had said it. Because that's what she had done for him, ridden him when he'd requested. That's what she was to him, what the princess had been to him last night. It was obvious that she was going to have to remind herself of this constantly. Apparently she craved a friend, which wasn't at all surprising, but she couldn't let her weakness lull her into making Garrett into something that he wasn't. That was only going to lead to disappointment and heartbreak.

Heartbreak? Where had that thought come from?

It was actually a relief when Samuel came out of the other tent, as brash as always although looking a bit more disheveled than usual, to distract from the strange tension and Bridget's stranger thoughts. Even better, he seemed to require no early morning relief from her. Neither did Blaine when he appeared, dragging the princess along with him.

All in all, despite the churning emotions assaulting her whenever she looked at or thought of Garrett, it was one of her better mornings.

*********

Something was happening. The men were standing together, but they'd never seemed more apart. Tension radiated from the group like heat from a lamp, warning the women not to get too close. For the first time Bridget would have been able to have a word with the princess if she'd desired, but she no longer did. Instead, she snuck glances at the men, ignoring the other woman who was sitting at the fire and eating, moving somewhat gingerly. Bridget refused to wonder how Garrett might have used her. It wasn't any of her business and she didn't care, she told herself furiously. Concentrating on trying to hear what the men were saying was distracting enough.

For some reason Samuel seemed almost jolly while Garrett was looking murderous. The expression on Patrick's handsome face could almost be called a smirk. Blaine was looking on with his usual indifference, but the tension in his shoulders said that he wasn't completely immune to the dynamics of the group. The more they talked, the darker the look on Garrett's face became and the louder his and Patrick's voices were raised until the words became more distinct.

"I should go!"

"You aren't needed and you will do as I say."

Samuel clapped Garrett on the back, laughing as the other man growled and shrugged his hand off. "At least you'll be with the women." The tone in his voice was almost derogatory, as if he was saying that guarding women was all Garrett was good for. Bridget held her breath, trying not to show that she was listening to them as Garrett made a movement towards Samuel before Blaine caught his arm and pulled him back.

"You are the one who found the nobleman and got the information for the timetable," Blaine said, speaking loudly and quickly as if to override either of the other men from speaking and taunting Garrett further. "You'll still get your share of the booty."

The very air around Garrett seemed to thrum with contained violence, none of which dissipated at Blaine's words, and Bridget had the sudden impression that Garrett didn't care about the treasure. He cared about something else, cared about it deeply. For a moment, she thought there would be a fight, right then and there, but then Garrett looked up at the sky and took in a deep breath. Even from twenty feet away she could see his broad chest rise and then fall, the anger leaking out of him as if Blaine's words had had an effect on him.

"Fine," he said harshly. And then their voices dropped again as they moved closer to each other to continue their discussion.

It was only when he walked away from them afterwards and she caught a glimpse of his face that she realized he had not at all been appeased by Blaine's words. The violent rage was gone from his movements, but she could see it in his face and eyes. When he turned his head to answer a question from Samuel, she saw it literally melt away from his features. Fear quivered through her. Garrett was a much better actor than she'd ever realized. If she hadn't seen his face before he turned to talk to Samuel, she would never have known how good he was.

And he was hiding something. But what?

Unfortunately, she wasn't given much time to think before Samuel and Blaine were on their horses and off into the woods, and Patrick was sauntering back towards the campfire, a smirk on his face.

"Hmmm... so many varied delights to choose from," he leered, his eyes sliding over her and the princess. "What am I in the mood for today?" Then his eyes darted to Garrett and Bridget realized Patrick was waiting for his reaction. Wanting to see if Garrett would show a preference.

But the other man wasn't looking at them at all, he was still staring off in the direction Samuel and Blaine had gone, one fist clenched by his side as if he was holding himself in place by sheer force of will. Part of her relaxed, relieved he wasn't showing any preference to the princess after his time with her, and another part of her felt a little hurt that he wasn't paying her any attention either. Of course, that was just because she didn't want Patrick's attentions again. She'd choose Garrett over Patrick without any hesitation. The bandit leader frightened her, and wondering what he would do to her if Garrett wasn't providing her with some protection frightened her even more.

It was infuriating to be beholden to him at all, but vastly preferable to the alternative.

She watched as Patrick shrugged and walked over to the princess, cupping his hand under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. Rather than her usual glare, the princess looked wary, almost cowed. Apparently she was no longer as sure of her position as she had been before yesterday. That and the unrelenting passions of three men must have made her very sore.

"Did you miss me, princess?" Patrick asked, his smile cruel. Bridget looked away, not wanting to watch the interaction between them, although she couldn't stop herself from hearing.

"I'm too sore for your games," the princess replied, a little bit of her old haughtiness back in her voice. Feigning interest in a hole that was wearing into the top layer of her skirt, Bridget barely managed to keep herself from shaking her head. Apparently the princess hadn't learned enough, that or she truly had no idea how she sounded.

"Then we'll both enjoy them more, won't we?"

There was a shriek and then a low moan and Bridget couldn't stop herself from looking over to see Patrick carrying the princess off over his shoulder. Relief flooded her, even though she wasn't truly surprised. The allure of bedding a princess had to be much higher than that of a maid. She had a feeling part of her appeal to Patrick was his impression that she meant something to Garrett, but he didn't seem to want to go beyond the strictures Garrett had laid down when it came to her treatment. And right now it was obvious Garrett was far more interested in robbing the nobleman's house than in having anything to do with her.

For some reason she didn't feel very relieved about that, even though she knew she should.

"Garrett," said Patrick, his voice full of warning as he paused at the entrance to his tent. "Do not let your little maid escape because you are distracted." Then he disappeared inside the tent. The princess let out a loud cry and then it sounded like something was pushed into her mouth, stifling the noise.

Bridget looked up to see Garrett staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. His dark eyes were blank and his expression looked somehow both haunted and angry. For lack of better things to do, she watched him as he turned his face away from her and then began to pace back and forth, occasionally glancing toward the woods and occasionally back at her. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was planning his own escape. After a few minutes she had to stop watching him because he was making her feel anxious with all his movement and the darting glances.

Looking at the woods on the opposite side of the camp, she studied the trees with their green leaves and the sunlight trickling through, wondering if Patrick was truly worried that Garrett was so distracted he might let her escape. Truthfully she didn't see why Patrick needed someone here to guard the women. Or why he'd chosen Garrett when the other man was the closest thing to a second in command. Although, perhaps he worried that Garrett's natural tendency towards leadership was having an effect on Samuel and Blaine. If Garrett was setting himself up as a rival, then perhaps Patrick wanted to keep Garrett close to himself rather than giving him more time to influence the others.

Watching the men was fascinating enough in and of itself, but she also knew studying these divisions between the men could only help her. After all, she had heard the soldiers at home talk often enough about the importance of unity. If the men were busy with their own arguments and disagreements, then they'd be paying even less attention to her. And it was obvious Patrick wasn't at all worried about her attempting escape. He’d seen her fear over the princess' punishment and had taken her submissive compliance exactly the way she'd wanted him to.

Of all of them, only Garrett seemed to sometimes see the real her. Maybe that's because he was good at acting too.

"Bridget, come into the tent," Garrett snapped out harshly, making her jump as his voice rang out through the clearing. Loud enough that it interrupted Patrick's masculine moans coming from the other tent. Without looking to see if she followed his order, Garrett strode into the empty tent, obviously expecting her to follow.

Fury boiled up in her as she stood, striding forth and ready to give him a piece of her mind. She had done nothing to deserve that angry tone in his voice. A sudden realization hit her, almost like a blow to her stomach, and all the air in her lungs wooshed out. She was angry at Garrett. Truly angry and more than willing to snap back at him, something she would never do with any of the other men. In fact, she'd talked to Garrett in ways she'd never do with the other men already, snapping back at him, taking her anger out on him. Because deep down, on some level, she trusted him. Trusted he wouldn't hurt her, that he wouldn't punish her for her words or actions, trusted him with some of the emotions she kept hidden from the others.

And he hadn't taken advantage of that once.

Shaken by her revelations, Bridget stumbled into the tent to find Garrett laying on his back in the center of it, shirtless. He paid no attention to her entrance but continued staring up at the top of the tent, one arm flung out to the side, the other bent at the elbow to tuck his hand under the back of his head. The slightly dimmed light cast shadows across his ribbed abdomen and the ridges of his chest, the dark sprinkling of hair looking soft and enticing across his chest and down his belly. Even on his back Garrett appeared almost dangerous, too strongly muscled to be anything but threatening. She glanced down at the front of his breeches and wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed that the large bulge at the front didn't indicate any arousal on his part.

"Strip," he said, not looking at her, his tone much milder than it had been outside. It almost sounded like a request rather than an order. As she shimmied out of her garments he continued to stare at the top of the tent. Only when she was completely naked did he move his gaze, his eyes roaming over her with appreciation. Under that lustful stare her nipples puckered, despite herself, and she had to lick suddenly dry lips as the bulge in his pants began to lengthen. "Come here."

Reaching with his out-flung arm, Garrett pulled her down to him, but not in the position she expected. Instead she found herself resting her head on his upper arm, her back to him as he turned and pressed against her naked back, his legs curving against her buttocks. The stiff ridge of his arousal rubbed between her soft mounds as he situated himself, curving his free arm around her body and pulling her back against him so that they were fitted together like a wooden joint. The hair on his body tickled the soft skin of her back and she squirmed a little, as much as she could, although he didn't give her much space to, trapping her by pressing his forearm against her stomach, his hand reaching up to cup one breast.

Heat pulsed through her as he idly massaged the soft mound, her nipple rubbing sensuously against the palm of his hand. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he used his face to move her hair out of his way, pressing his lips against her shoulder blade. A quiver of lust went through her and she fought to keep from showing her reaction to him.

When he spoke she could feel his lips moving against her skin.

"Do you have a large family, Bridget?" His voice was very soft, not like he was whispering, but he was speaking so low that if she hadn't been pressed right up against him she wouldn't have been able to hear him.

"No, just one older brother," she said, instinctively keeping her voice as low as his, puzzled by the question. Had he brought her into the tent and stripped her down only to ask about her family?

"Were your parents sad to see you leave with the princess for England?"

Bridget shook her head, confused by his apparent desire to converse. Her body felt like it was humming, every inch attuned to his touch, and yet she knew she should be glad he wasn't taking his pleasure in her. What on earth did she want? If he took her she'd be angry, but now she also felt a burning need for him between her legs.

"They were proud I had been chosen. And they knew I'd always wanted to travel."

Fingers stroked through her hair, almost idly, as he curved his arm beneath her head, making it fall back against his chest.

"A little adventurer, are you?" He chuckled and she could feel the vibrations through his body and hers. This kind of easygoing intimacy and conversation was dangerous to her, it was all too easy to forget who and where they were again.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice both plaintive and breathy, as conflicted as her emotions. The hand in her hair stilled.

Somehow, his voice went even lower and she strained to hear him.

"One day I will be able to explain that to you. For now, you must trust me."

Trust him? She wanted to laugh, but all she could do was tremble, because she already knew she did. Hadn't she just realized so before entering the tent? It was enough to make a woman weep. His fingers began stroking through her hair again. Sighing, she gave up the fight and felt the tension flow from her body, nuzzling her head into his arm and relaxing into his caress. Part of her wished he would do something with her breast other than hold it, but for now she sank into the illusion of safety and warmth.

"I have a half-brother and a half-sister," he said, his voice raising just a tad. Still low enough that anyone even a foot away wouldn't be able to make out his words, but she no longer needed to strain to hear him. "Both younger. I used to have an older half-brother." His voice turned wistful, almost dreamy. She almost asked him how he could have half-siblings both older and younger than him, but it was truly none of her business. After all, he had already told her that he'd grown up in a whore-house. Why hadn't he mentioned his siblings before?

It felt like there was something more to the story that she wasn't getting.

"Were you looking forward to living in England?"

Bridget stirred against him, trying to ignore the tingles between her legs as they shifted together. "Yes... I thought it would be an adventure. And I've always liked seeing new places and doing new things. The princess didn't travel much, but many people traveled to us at court and they always told such stories of distant lands..." She wasn't entirely sure why she was telling him this, except he seemed to want to talk and she couldn't work herself up to beginning something physical with him. "This seemed like my only chance to see any of them for myself."

"England's rather wet and cold compared to Southern France," Garrett said, his voice almost teasing.

"It's still something new and different," she said. "And I suppose I thought that if I truly hated it, I would be able to go back. Not like the princess, since she'd have been constrained there by her marriage."

"Hmmm," Garrett said, making an enigmatic noise.

His hand on her breast slid down her stomach, the hand in her hair curving over her shoulder to grip her other breast and pinch her nipple. She cried out at the sudden erotic pain, her hips and soft bottom pushing back into his groin. Fingers slid through the curls on her mound and into her damp folds and her cry turned into a moan as he began to twist her nipple sensuously, the tugging sensation going straight to her core where his devilish fingers were eliciting the most incredible sensations. Just like that she'd turned into a mass of feminine need, her thighs spreading as she moved her leg back and on top of his to rest, allowing him further access to her body.

The palm of his hand ground against her clit as he slid two fingers into her, moving against her backside. The leather of his breeches rubbed over her buttocks, the hot rod of his cock pressing between her creamy cheeks as it slid up and down along the crease. Bridget found herself arching back against him, both of her hands clasping the wrist of the hand between her legs as she moved. His fingers curved inside of her, rubbing over a particularly sensitive spot that made her jerk and gasp, her fingers tightening around his wrist and she wasn't sure if she was trying to pull his hand away or shove it deeper inside of her.

In front of her the tent flap burst open and suddenly Patrick was there, leering at them. Bridget closed her eyes and turned her face into Garrett's arm, trying to shut out the sight of the bandit leader. Her body was completely on display for him in this position, only Garrett's hands covering her privates and that seemed even worse than nudity.

The hand between her legs slowed its movements, his fingers moving with deliberate strokes in and out of her aching hole.

"Do you need me for something?" Garrett asked mildly.

"You two were so quiet, I wasn't sure our little maid hadn't gotten away from you."

Behind her Garrett stiffened, but his voice didn't change at all from that lazy, indifferent drawl. "No, she's keeping me well occupied. Unless you need me for something else."

The offer was made off-handedly, as if it didn't matter to him, but the tension in his body said something different. It was then that Bridget realized how much of a bone of contention she had become between the two men. Not because of her own value—at least not for Patrick. She was becoming less and less sure about her lack of value to Garrett—she afforded them another battleground on which to butt heads.

There was a long moment of silence and Bridget peeked out from behind her hair, opening just one eye. Patrick was watching her, watching Garrett's relentless hand between her legs. She couldn't stop the soft mewling sounds she was making, the fingers caressing her insides were too good at building up her hot desires, but she'd managed to almost completely still her movements.

"Perhaps I'd like to join you."

Garrett's fingers inside of her stilled. The air seemed to thicken with tension, a hint of violence. And then she felt Garrett breathe deeply again, all of it washing away. "If you'd like."

Why did he keep putting off a confrontation with Patrick? Was he worried the other man would win?

Yet his acquiesce seemed to placate the other man. Patrick's lips curved in a smile. "Perhaps later... I find I hunger for other things now."

And then he was gone. Bridget's muscles quivered as she relaxed now that his threatening presence had departed.

Turning her head, she managed to look back over her shoulder far enough to meet Garrett's dark eyes. His expression was almost carefully blank and he returned her gaze steadily.

"Would you really have let him join?" she whispered.

There was a long moment of silence and Bridget turned her face away from the flash in his eyes, unable to read his expression. Even if she could read it, he was such a good actor, would it be real?

Pulling his hand from between her legs, Garrett hugged her close, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel his lips moving. His words were barely a murmur on the air.

"I have no choice. I must be here, with them, for the next few days. After that we will have more choices."

We. He'd said we. Him and her. Bridget shivered. Somehow she knew Garrett had just shown his trust in her, even though she wasn't entirely sure what his words meant. It sounded like perhaps... escape? Perhaps he meant to leave this group of bandits and take her with him? Her treacherous body and emotions liked that idea, far too well.

Pulling her hard against him, Garrett continued to speak in her ear. "He needs to hear some noises coming from this tent. Noises of my pleasure."

She nodded her understanding. It was another act. And yet not, because she could tell Garrett wanted her. Some part of her hoped he truly wasn't like the others, that he wouldn't take advantage of her presence if it wasn't for their expectations, for their audience. Perhaps she was building up a false image of him in her head, but at the moment she couldn't see the harm. After all, it's not like she was relying on him for escape or special treatment, but if he could help... if he would help…

Behind her she felt him moving, the arm that had been between her legs now fumbling behind her buttocks as he pushed his breeches down. The hot rod of his cock pushed against her, a rod of steel-lined velvet as he groaned with pleasure at the skin to skin contact. Bridget squirmed back against him as the tip of his hardness pressed between her legs, coating the helmet of his penis with her creamy offerings. She made soft noises in the back of her throat as his blunt head rubbed up and down her sensitive folds, teasing her opening as she tried to push back against him.

As happened so often with Garrett, she found herself abandoning all sense of dignity, too hot and needy for him to care that she was acting the wanton. Garrett nudged into her from behind and she moved her leg off of his, finding it easier to bend forward and take him into her body when she was no longer twisted to keep her legs spread. Having her legs together like this made her sheathe even tighter and he grunted his enjoyment as he began to push inside of her, forcing her tight hole to open and accept his shaft. The rubbing friction felt heavenly and she squirmed, clutching at his arm as he resumed playing with her breast and nipple.

"So beautiful..." he moaned into her ear. "You feel so good... so hot and tight... fuck Bridget..."

The growling low voice in her ear seemed to reverberate straight down her spine, his crude words only arousing her further as she tightened around his thrusting cock. One of his hands grasped hers, pulling it away from the hand on her breast and pushing it down between her legs. She gasped as he laid his hand over hers, directing its movements as he pushed her fingers between her legs, parting them so she had two fingers on either side of where his shaft was splitting her open. She moaned at the erotic feeling of his cock sliding between her fingers, coating them with her wetness, before plunging into her body. Garrett moved her fingers back and forth, forcing her to rub her hand against her most sensitive bits, making her touch his plunging rod as it moved inside of her.

The sensation of him slipping between her fingers and deep into her quivering channel was intensely pleasurable, made even more so by the way her sensitive flesh pushed against her hand. She could feel the slick little pearl that gave her such pleasure, plumply pressing against her hand as she rocked back and forth on Garrett's rod.

"That's it," he growled, nipping at the sensitive flesh along her neck with his teeth. Bridget cried out and writhed for him, her insides tightening around the invading spear and wringing even more pleasure from both of them. The storm building in her core was swirling now, her loins tightening with readiness for the eventual explosion. "Feel me fucking you..."

His hand forced her to rub herself harder, her fingers making wet squishy noises as he masturbated her, his cock moving harder and faster against her fingers and into her shuddering body. Bridget could feel every inch of him as he thrust forcefully, obviously enjoying her tightness, her clenching muscles and the soft moans she made as she allowed him to manipulate her to their mutual pleasure.

"Garrett..." she whimpered, the tension inside of her becoming almost unbearable, her tunnel squeezing his cock as she squirmed back against him, so, so close to release.

"Yes," he hissed out and his teeth caught her earlobe, sucking the tender flesh into his mouth as his hand pressed down hard on hers, sending her palm into a circular motion as it pressed down on the engorged nubbin at the apex of her core. Bridget screamed his name as the storm swept over her, lightening shattering through her most sensitive parts as heat and wet and thunder rolled over her again and again. In the midst of her climax she was barely aware of Garrett's arms tightening around her, holding her fast against him as he moved more forcefully into her from behind, her hand still wedged between her thighs.

She wailed with the intense passion as his steel-hard cock filled her, so hard she could almost feel her insides bruising from his rampant thrusts. It hurt in the most wonderful way, spurring her climax to further heights as the mix of pain and pleasure that she had become so accustomed to swirled wildly in her body. The pleasure was so exquisitely intense it was becoming almost painful. She tried to move her hand away from her throbbing pearl, but Garrett's strong fingers prevented her, rubbing her harder and faster, drawing out her orgasm to the point where she screamed her plea for him to stop. Every part of her body throbbed in sympathy as he forced his way inside of her one last time, the pulsing rhythm of his spurting cock matching her body's convulsions as her cunt sucked at him.

Throughout it all he ignored her pleas for mercy, her forced masturbation so wonderfully overwhelming that she thought she might faint, tears trickling down her cheeks as her overstimulated tissues pulsed against her fingers. It was torture, it was bliss, and she thought she might go mad from it.

The hard tension of Garrett's body relaxed and so did the pressure on her hand. Bridget sobbed with relief as he allowed the movements of her hand to slow and then stop, her involuntary shudders a testament to the incredible release he'd just given her. Inside of her she could feel his cock shrinking, withdrawing naturally from her body. He kissed the back of her neck, breathing heavily in the aftermath of his own climax.

"Good girl," he said, which stirred both annoyance and secret gratification within her. But she was too tired to protest. The extended climax had amounted to sensual torture by the end and she didn't think she could take it if he tried to do anything more to her right now. Fortunately he seemed to just want to hold her.

Slowly the world came back into focus and she could hear Patrick moving around outside the tent, talking to the princess. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but by the sneering tone in his voice she wasn't sure she wanted to either. Garrett murmured soft compliments in her ear, drowning out the sound of the other man, and she snuggled back against his hard body. Now that her passion was spent, she was starting to feel rather drowsy.

Garrett tensed and whispered in her ear. "Stay here. Don't make any noise if you can help it."

Even as he stood, he pulled a blanket over her before striding quickly outside, lacing up the front of his breeches as he went. Bridget stared after his broad naked back, suddenly anxious.

"Didn't think you had it in you," Patrick said, his voice close and loud. She realized that Garrett must have heard the other man coming closer and had wanted to head him off. Why, she wondered.

"You don't know a lot of things about me," Garrett said. Even though his voice was mild there was a slight hint of threat in his voice, enough to send a small shiver down her spine. The tension between the two men was rapidly rising, especially without the buffer of their comrades. She'd never thought she'd be sad to see Samuel and Blaine go, but she was just starting to understand how the other two men had helped keep the peace in camp, providing a distraction.

Now she was torn on the horns of a dilemma. Obviously Garrett didn't want her distracting Patrick from him, and she could only imagine what she would have to do to provide a buffer, but she didn't want them fighting either. If Patrick won then there was no more protection for her.

"I don't need to," Patrick replied, as if he hadn't heard the threat in Garrett's voice at all. "I would be interested to see what you did to make her scream so."

"She's sleeping," Garrett said shortly. "It's my night with her and she's going to need all the rest she can get." The implication that he would be abusing her tonight was clear, but she couldn't feel afraid. Although the intensity of her orgasm had made her scream in a way Patrick had obviously misinterpreted, it hadn't been awful at all. Not in the way she'd seen Patrick be. Bridget would much prefer to let Garrett do whatever he needed to in order to keep Patrick away from her.

Patrick laughed and she thought she heard him slap Garrett on the back in a comradely manner before they began walking away, crudely comparing the charms of the women. She blocked the conversation from her ears, deciding that it was meaningless, wanting to believe Garrett's actions rather than the words that were currently coming out of his mouth. Not only had he kept Patrick from seeing her again, he'd ensured she would have an afternoon of reprieve before whatever games they planned for tonight.

An afternoon to sleep, rest, and think. He'd confused her incredibly in just the past few hours. In some ways, she felt like he'd bared a true part of himself to her when they'd been talking, but she'd also seen what a consummate liar he could be when he chose to. Then he'd given her some of the most intense ecstasy she'd ever experienced and fooled Patrick into thinking he'd hurt her at the same time, protecting her as best he could from the other man. In fact, she had a feeling he would have kept her in the tent all day and evening, away from the other men, if Patrick hadn't pushed the issue with his game challenge.

Tiredness was slowly swamping her again as her thoughts swirled around, her body relaxing now that the men had moved away and there was no need to worry that Patrick would come bursting into the tent. No need to worry that Garrett would either. Perhaps she should worry more about the evening ahead, but she was exhausted and this new life had taught her not to worry too far in advance. She might as well sleep while she could and save the anxiety for later.

Besides, she was starting to trust more in Garrett's protection, despite her qualms.