The summons came at dawn, delivered by a single mounted sergeant in the baron's colors. The man didn't even dismount. He simply thrust the sealed parchment into my hand, his gaze flicking over my broad shoulders and the fresh bruises from yesterday's siege.
"Baron Aldric requires your presence at Highcrag Hall by midday. Speak of the raid, the tithe matter, and… the family situation. Do not keep him waiting."
He wheeled his horse and vanished down the track before I could answer.
Inside the longhouse the air thickened at once. Mother stood at the hearth, ladle frozen mid-stir, her full breasts rising sharply beneath her morning shift. Mira clutched the edge of the table, hazel eyes wide with fresh fear. Lila's hand went straight to the knife at her belt. Nora simply stared at me, lips parted, the soft curves of her body trembling.
I broke the seal and read the short, formal lines aloud. No one spoke for a long heartbeat.
"You can't go alone," Mother said at last, voice low and commanding, yet laced with pure worry. She crossed the room in two strides, strong hands gripping my tunic. Those generous breasts pressed warm and full against my chest, her thick thighs brushing mine. "Garrick's still out there. The miller too. If they hear you're gone—"
"I have to," I cut in gently, covering her hands with mine. My thumb brushed the soft underside of one breast—accidental, deliberate, I no longer cared. She inhaled sharply, green eyes darkening with the same hungry conflict that had nearly broken her in the tub. "The baron's favor is the only shield we have left. I'll be back before nightfall. Bar the door. Keep the girls close."
Mira rose then, her lush body still soft from sleep, and wrapped her arms around me from the side. "Come back to us," she whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to my jaw. Her heavy breasts molded against my arm, nipples stiff through the thin linen. "I'm yours now, Elias. Don't let them take that away."
Lila stepped up next, red hair loose, eyes blazing. She didn't hug—she grabbed my face and kissed me hard, tongue demanding, her powerful thigh sliding between mine in a single possessive grind. "Don't you dare get soft up there," she growled against my mouth. "We'll hold the longhouse. But when you return… I expect a proper sparring match. And maybe more." Her hand trailed down my chest, stopping just above the laces of my breeches.
Nora was last. Shy, gentle Nora. She rose on tiptoe and pressed a soft, trembling kiss to my lips—nothing like Lila's fire, everything like surrender. "Be safe," she breathed, cheeks flushed. Her full breasts brushed my chest, and her fingers lingered on my hip, offering quiet warmth. "We'll be waiting. All of us."
Mother watched every touch, every kiss. Her fists clenched at her sides, the dominating widow warring with the woman who had stroked my cock in the tub and whispered how empty she was. Jealousy and pride burned in her green eyes in equal measure. She pulled me aside at the door for one last private moment, voice rough.
"Those girls… they're looking at you the way I do now. Like you're the only man who can keep us safe. Keep us *satisfied*." Her hand slid down, cupping me through my breeches for a single, possessive squeeze. "Don't forget who raised you, Elias. Who's been aching for you longest."
I kissed her then—deep, claiming—and she melted for half a heartbeat, submissive and needy, before pushing me away with a shaky breath.
"Go," she ordered, steel returning. "Before I drag you back to the tub and finish what we started."
I rode out on our old mare, the new five-acre grant tucked inside my tunic beside the tithe ledger scrap. The half-day track to Highcrag Hall wound through muddy fields and sparse woodland. My mind stayed behind with the women—the way Mother's thick thighs had trembled, Mira's grateful heat, Lila's fiery challenge, Nora's soft offering. The internal hunger roared louder than ever. I would claim them all. Protect them all. But first I had to make sure the world outside these walls would let us live.
Highcrag Hall was no grand castle—just a squat stone manor on a low rise, ringed by a wooden palisade and a half-dug moat. Baron Aldric met me in the great hall, a shrewd man in his fifties with iron-gray hair and eyes that missed nothing. Servants brought ale and bread. He waved away formalities.
"Tell me of the bandit raid," he said. "And the… incident with Blackthorn yesterday."
I told him everything—fire trenches, coordinated defense, the tithe theft I had documented. Then I offered more. "The new rotation is already yielding surplus peas, my lord. With proper granary ventilation—simple slatted roofs to let air flow—we could store grain through winter without rot. A small weekly trade post at the river bend could move it to the next barony at better prices than the miller charges. And the palisade here… a deeper ditch with sharpened stakes would double its strength at almost no cost."
I spoke plainly, using only the knowledge I'd carried from my old world, phrased like a farmer's common sense. The baron listened. His steward scribbled notes. When I finished, Aldric leaned back, studying me like a new blade.
"You're nineteen and already thinking like a steward," he said. "Most men twice your age still beg for coin. The raid defense earned you land. The siege defense earned you notice. Keep producing results and I may have a larger role for you—overseeing the southern trade road, perhaps. There's talk of a rival lord sniffing around the western border. Men like you could be useful."
Hope flared. More land. More protection. A path to make the Thornwood name untouchable.
Then the side door burst open. A mud-splattered rider staggered in, breathing hard.
"My lord—trouble in Willowbrook. Garrick Blackthorn and four of the miller's remaining men rode on the Thornwood longhouse not an hour ago. They tried to drag the Blackthorn woman—Mira—out by force. Claimed she was still his wife and the boy was a bastard who'd bewitched the widow. The women fought them off with scythes and fire, but the longhouse roof caught. They're holding for now, but Blackthorn swore he'd burn them out before the boy returns."
The baron's eyes sharpened on me. "Your family, I believe?"
I was already standing, blood roaring in my ears. Garrick's last, desperate move—while I was away, he'd struck at the heart of everything I loved.
Aldric raised a hand. "Go. Handle it. Prove your worth, Thornwood. But know this: if the rumors of witchcraft or incest reach the capital, even I cannot shield you."
I didn't wait for more. I was already running for the mare, mind filled with images of flames licking the thatch, of Mother standing with a scythe, of Mira's terrified eyes, of Lila nocking arrows and Nora hiding the younger ones.
The ride home was a blur of mud and fear.
Garrick had played his final card. One last attempt to tear my women from me while I chased status.
He would regret it.
Because when I reached the longhouse—if it still stood—I would end him for good.
And then I would finally claim what was mine, starting with the woman whose breaking point I could no longer wait for.
**End of Chapter 13**