Page 78 of The Knucker King

Fine. Bramble sauntered back over to the hearth and curled up in front of the roaring fire. Close the door on your way out.

30

Chapter 30

Trewoofe

Excitement bubbled in Trewoofe as he ambled after Avice. Together, they stood at the hatch set in the frozen ground. Just as the midwife was about to try and wrench it open, he caught her wrist.

“Allow me.”

Trewoofe wrapped his fingers around the frozen handle, the cold stinging his bare skin. He tugged, and the door would not budge. He pulled harder and it shifted slightly. With a third heave, he threw it open. A stitch snapped under his bandages, the thread pinging against his tender skin. He stepped back and pressed his belly. He bit back a wince, knowing that his little witch would send him back inside if she suspected he had hurt himself.

Avice missed nothing. “You pulled a stitch, did you not?”

He looked away.

“Lord, if you have broken one, then you must go back inside and lie down, in case blood leaks from the wound,” she lectured.

Trewoofe burnt under her steady gaze. He took a deep breath, fighting the compulsion he had to do as he was told.

He met her eye. “No.”

Avice opened and closed her mouth.

“You went into the Underneath for me. To save me. I can bear a little ache to help you when you go down. I know it scares you.”

Her throat bobbed and she blinked up at him. “Thank you, Lord.” She began her descent. “I imagined your voice, you know, in the Underneath. I pretended I heard you, by my side. It helped me face it all.”

Trewoofe glowed under her admission. He did not want her to be alone underground and tried to follow her in. He quickly realised he would never fit. His horns were too tall, his body too long and wide, and he would just end up knocking everything from the shelves. He settled tensely on peering down into the gloom as she fumbled with the jars closest to ladder.

He reached down. “Hand them to me. Together, we can carry more back to the cottage, and you will not have to go back down as quickly.”

Avice nodded. She stood on the bottom rung of the ladder and passed him up one at a time. In total, she gave him six clay jars, one after the other, sealed with a ring of wax cloth to keep the food fresh. Trewoofe studied them before he placed them carefully on the ground beside him. Each had a charcoal etching of a different vegetable, mushroom, or herb. He furrowed his brow as she stepped out of the dull light of the opening.

“Aha!” she cried from the cellar.

Alarm rang within him. “Little witch, are you alright?”

“Yes!”

He smiled at the giggle in her voice just as she emerged from the gloom, eyes bright as she looked up at him. Desire curled in his belly at the sight of her joy.

She is adorable. He reached for the last jar she held up and took it. “What is it?”

“Stewed apples,” she puffed on her climb up. “They are sweet! You will love them.”

He placed it next to the others and reached back in, offering her a helping hand. She grinned – fine lines appearing at the edges of her mouth and eyes – and took it. He pulled her up. Halfway, another stitch pulled, the snap against his skin distracting him. He fell roughly with a thud, and Avice landed right on his lap.

She wriggled against him, trying to right herself. Trewoofe stifled a groan, feeling his cock harden against his hose. His breath hitched as he pushed himself up; her cloak was tousled to the side, and the skirts of her dress bunched up. His gaze was drawn to the red ribbons at the top of her stockings, and he remembered the way they tickled his crest as she sat astride him. The sight had him fully erect, and he could barely restrain his need to rut.

“Lord! I am sorry, did I hurt you?” she gasped.

He gave her a lopsided smile. “You will be cross with me.” He chanced curling one of the ribbons around his claw, before tugging down her hem to hide her tempting thigh. “Another stitch has broken.” He pulled the cloak around her and touched his fingers to her face on the pretence of tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

She chuckled. “I am cross, but I am sure I can manage to forgive you.”

Trewoofe considered himself a polite Knucker, so he sat stoically on the pallet, with his back to Avice as she washed and changed her clothes. He longed to peek, but even Ashling and Bramble looked away to give the midwife some semblance of privacy.