Emerald Knight

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Wolfe nodded at the man’s perceptiveness and relaxed. He knew Richard to be a man of his word. “Then think no more on it, your debt is paid in full. It’s my privilege to serve you.”

  “Only I can say when my debt is paid,” Richard countered. Then stopping, he turned to look seriously at Wolfe. “I’m to wed with Princess Berengaria of Navarre and I need a man I can trust with me on the journey.”

  “It would be my honor to ride with you,” Wolfe assented.

  Richard nodded his appreciation, before continuing, “And it’s no secret I’m planning to go back to the Holy Land to reclaim Jerusalem for the Christians. I have already spoken with King Philip and he is in agreement that we leave soon after my nuptials are spoken. I trust you’re willing to take up arms against the heathens?”

  It wasn’t a question, but Wolfe nodded anyway. He wasn’t being given a choice.

  “Good!” Richard affirmed. “I should need a man like you who is quick on his feet and proficient on the battlefield to help lead my armies. We leave two days hence to pick up my bride and to meet with the Emperor of Germany. Philip and I wish to solicit the support of his country in this campaign. But I don’t completely trust Philip. I need someone willing to discreetly watch my back when I can’t.”

  “I am your man, majesty,” Wolfe answered with another nod.

  “Now, go see to your lovely wife.” The king dismissed him with a wave of his hand. When Wolfe willingly did as he commanded, the king added, “And Wolfe, good luck tomorrow at tournament.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ginevra closed her eyes, snuggling into the warm, comforting furs of Wolfe’s bed. The coverlet smelled of him and made her body tingle with awareness. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. She tried to tell the king’s guard that she had a separate tent, but he ignored her. The man escorted her to Wolfe’s quarters and told her to go inside to wait for her husband. So that’s what she did.

  Looking around, she noticed Wolfe’s tent was much smaller than her own. She recognized his trunk at the end of the bed and his armor lying atop a table. A portable tub still filled with water from his earlier bath was set in the corner. There was no fire within and so no light, except for the orange glow outside the thick wall. Shadows eerily walked by, deforming the shapes of the people who cast them against the sides.

  Hearing footsteps outside, she sat up. Wolfe’s skirmish with the assassin had successfully cleared her head of the wine fog. It was a small thing, to be sure, but she had never seen the like before. Her heart still pounded when she thought of Wolfe being in harm’s way.

  Scooting to the edge of the bed, her feet landed on the earthen floor as the flap to the tent was raised. She could see Wolfe’s distinctive outline as he entered. He stopped to look at her in the dimness. Unable to read her face, he asked, “Are you all right? Did that man frighten you?”

  “Frighten me?” Ginevra shook her head with a wry laugh. She stood from the bed. “I was more scared for you. I don’t think I like it when you put yourself in danger like that. Mayhap you should be more careful.”

  “That’s the duty of a knight.” Coming forward, he lifted his tunic aside to pull a main gauche from his waist. He laid the sharp dagger on the table. The weapon landed with a heavy thud. Then, bending over, he grabbed another blade from his boot and set it by its mate on the hard wood. “That and knowing enough about survival to stay alive.”

  “So is that what your life is like? Constant fighting and battles?” she questioned, knowing that was the reality of the world they lived in. She sadly shook her head. “It doesn’t seem too ... enchanting.”

  He hid a smile and didn’t answer as a blade from the back of his waist joined the two others. Lastly, they were joined by a leather pouch. Coming around to look at his wife, he studied her face.

  Ginevra’s heart fluttered. She could see the boy from long ago in his eyes. He was so familiar to her, yet such a stranger. She had known him her whole life, and yet he couldn’t have been more of a mystery to her. Swaying lightly on her feet, she searched his expression, trying to hold back tears that welled in her eyes. “Were you never going to come back to Whetshire? You have stayed away so long.”

  “I’ve been at battle making a name for myself. I’ve been training.”

  “Rob has made it back. Will, too,” Ginevra interjected. Her words weren’t accusing, just heavyhearted. “Surely the king would’ve spared you these many years past.”

  Gently, he lifted a hand to her cheek. His eyes moved to her lips, as if desperately wanting to kiss her mouth. Whispering softly, he teased, “Tell me, Gin. Have you learned more about the marriage bed since I last saw you? Or do you still believe our marriage consummated with a kiss?”

  Defiant, she jerked her chin away, not liking his tone. “Who do you think you are? Coming here after almost three years with nary a word or consideration! You dare to question my honor? You left me the morning after our wedding without so much as a by your leave. And, before that, you barely spoke to me except to order me about and call me a child.”

  “Ginevra, I did send word to you so don’t act as if you are abandoned. I only meant--”

  “Nay, I know what you meant and if you have no wish to hear honesty from my lips than you had best learn not to ask such sharply pointed questions of me. You don’t have the right to question me. You don’t know anything about me. And until tonight you haven’t bothered to be around long enough to learn! Except through the connections of family, you’re a stranger to me.”

  He dropped his hand, clearly displeased with her contrary tone. “You’re my wife. I’ve known you since you were in a cradle.”

  “Oh, so you remember saying the vows. I’ve often wondered,” she huffed, liquor making her words flow too freely. Her resentment over the past years ebbed to the surface. She crossed her arms over her chest, unconsciously pushing her breasts up.

  Wolfe looked down at her exposed cleavage.

  Unmindful of her words, she continued, “You lied to me and you dare to question my purity? If you’ve forgotten, sirrah, it was you who told me that a kiss consummated our marriage. If I’m pure, it’s of your doing. And, if I’m not, well I suppose that’s mine. But you’ll never know for I’ll never confess what I’ve been up to.”

  “Ginevra,” he warned. He lifted a finger to point at her face. She knocked it away with a stiff slap.

  “Should I ask of your purity, m’lord? Do you think me so blind as to believe that all those women tonight with their simpering glances and bold innuendoes are just mere acquaintances? Do all your friends grab your backside as they are leaving?”

  Wolfe flinched. She knew he didn’t think she’d seen Lady Katrina’s bold caress. As soon as she said the words, she wished them back. The last thing she wanted was to please his male vanity by admitting she noticed. He licked his lips as his gaze moved to her throat and the pulse that raced there. Her head swam with a sensation more stirring than the effects of the liquor. Her body burned to feel the length of him pressed suggestively into her. She felt as if she was in a cloud, surrounded by a dream and she was afraid she might wake up.

  “Lady Helewysa, Lady Katrina, Anne, Anne-Marie, Mortosa, Morganna and those are only the names I remember!” Ginevra wrinkled her nose, fighting to keep control over her body’s response to him. “And you took that woman Sarra into your bed on the night of our wedding. I saw you. Now the woman looks at me like she’s better than I. It’s all your doing. How could you have done that? She’s a servant and I can barely look at her without flinching. On our wedding night! Beyond that, you left me waiting for you at the altar like a fool. I was married in a dining hall filled with drunken ... and ... That’s the one night that’s supposed to be the most important day of a young girl’s life. It was the one night I was told of since I can remember. You’re the one person I was told to ... and you ruined it.”

  Wolfe kept his face cautiously blank. He detected the lonely pain in her voice. It tore at him in a way he wasn’t ready to
explore. Seeing her mounting fury, he tried not to smile. For a moment he saw a flash of an impish child calling him a mongrel dog.

  He thought of the last three years, of all the women. She hadn’t even begun to list the half of them. “You were only a child, not a woman. I couldn’t sleep with a girl-child. I thought it was best to leave you, to give you more time to your girlhood. Would you rather I forced myself on you? Gotten your belly large with child so that you would come to resent me for it? If you must have the truth of it, I promised your brother not to touch you. Had I been given my way, I might have ravished you every day since. But I did the right thing, the honorable thing. I left. And, yea, I’ve taken other women to my bed, but only because I couldn’t take my child wife.”

  As he said the words, he knew with sudden amazement that he spoke the truth. He’d been living in a haze, waiting for her to grow up, to become a woman. And she was, standing vulnerably in front of him. He froze, unsure as to the feelings inside his chest. He was a man, a fighter. Men didn’t speak of emotions.

  “Then?” Ginevra sighed. The fire faded from her eyes, as she sat on the bed. “You weren’t disgusted by me? All these years, I thought you rejected me because I was too boyish and I’d worked so hard to make sure you’d be pleased with me. I even wore those cursed veils because I thought you wanted me to.”

  Wolfe could take no more. Her soft green eyes were looking past him when he shot forward and grabbed her about the arms. He lifted her up as his lips instantly sought her trembling mouth, pulling her into his embrace. She gasped in surprise, but didn’t pull away. Her arms tentatively found his warm chest as he crushed her to him.

  She moaned lightly as his tongue traced the line of her lower lip. Sighing against him, her lips parted. Her innocent response drove him mad as no woman had. There was no scheming in her, no calculations. His mouth became more insistent against hers as his tongue delved farther into her to taste the wine on her tongue.

  Ginevra’s legs faltered as she grabbed his tunic for support. Wolfe chuckled, a low husky sound against her lips. She opened her eyes and dazedly tried to pull away from him, striking her wrist defiantly against his chest. The weak motion was unconvincing.

  Wolfe’s mouth left hers to lick at her awaiting throat. Her skin smelled of the bonfire with a hint of lavender. Her lips tasted of sweetened wine. Keeping her supported by one sturdy arm, he brought his hand around to cup her breast covered by the constricting folds of her gown. Ginevra gasped and moaned.

  His body ached painfully to hold her, but he wanted her willing. It was nothing to seduce or force an innocent maid, but he wanted her to know she wanted him. He wanted it desperately.

  “Nay,” Wolfe growled against her lips. Lavender drifted all around him, taunting his senses. His hips pressed into her soft belly as his manhood yearned to be set free. Stroking her cheek, he pleaded, “Don’t deny me tonight, Gin. I’ve waited too many years for you. I need you. I need to feel you.”

  Her eyes drifted to his lips parted in heavy, tortured breaths. Lifting her hands boldly to his face, she pulled his mouth to hers. Hesitantly, she kissed him. Wolfe’s throaty moan washed over her in appreciation as he pulled her more firmly against him. Forced over his arm with the insistent onslaught of his mouth, Ginevra gasped in maidenly delight.

  “Take off your gown, lest I be tempted to rip it from you,” he ordered in a lustful growl as his mouth moved past her ear. Wolfe was a passionate man who was not in the habit of slowing his unrefined whims.

  Ginevra’s eyes shot open in fearful panic. She pushed against his chest as she looked at the intensity of his piercing gaze. Slowly, she shook her head in denial as the fog began to lift from her eyes.

  “I should go,” she whispered quietly, her words drowned out by his heavy breaths.

  “Nay.” Wolfe’s hands strained as they moved unwillingly to his hips. “The king’s guard won’t let you. You have to sleep here tonight. If you leave, the entire camp will know.”

  “I don’t care about the camp,” she stated. “They mean nothing to me.”

  Briefly, he closed his eyes, seeking control. “But what of your honor? If you don’t stay this night with me, the men will think you are estranged. They will think you would be willing to seek the company of others.”

  “That’s preposterous,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand as she walked to the opening of the tent. “If they try, I’ll put them in their place.”

  “Is it, my Sparkling Emerald?” he asked lightly, a smile playing wryly on his lips. Suddenly, he wanted to take the words back. He wasn’t sure he wanted her knowing the effect she had on other men.

  “Sparking Emerald?” she questioned, turning about to face him. Slowly, she made her way back to him. “Is she the protector of the encampment? That is at least the tenth time I have heard that name said tonight.”

  Wolfe studied her neck, watching her pulse beating erratically in her throat. She kept her face carefully composed, but she was not as coolly immune to him as she would have him believe. “Nay, she is the enchantress of the encampment.”

  “Whatever she is, she has no place in this conversation. Mayhap you are drunk.” She wrinkled her brow as she studied his eyes.

  Lightly his hand lifted, touching her cheek. Her eyes rose to meet his. She swallowed.

  “Don’t you know?” he asked quietly. “You’re the Sparkling Emerald. You’ve entranced every man in this encampment.”

  “Every man, m’lord?” she asked doubtfully, wondering what he tried to imply. “Even you?”

  “Yea, especially me,” he admitted, as he leaned in to kiss her mouth. Murmuring hoarsely against her lips, he said, “Don’t deny me. If not for your reputation, do it for mine.”

  Ginevra pulled back from his searching hands. Her breathing deepened as she shook her head.

  Wolfe took in a sharp breath, looking close to the point of explosion. Demanding, he stated in a harsh growl, “You are my wife. I order you to come to me. It’s your duty to come to me.”

  Her eyes lost some of their sparkle and she stepped forward like a human sacrifice. Standing completely still, she tilted back her head and stared listlessly at him. If Wolfe had wanted to kill the passion inside of her, he’d said the right thing.

  Softening his tone, he took a tortured gulp of air and wearily shook his head of his confusion. His hands shook and he balled them into fists. “Why did you stop? I can see that you want me as I do you. Why do you deny us both the pleasure I’m offering you. It’s right that we are together. There’s no sin in wanting your husband.”

  “Nay, m’lord, I can’t want you.” She lifted her chin higher. “I’m a noblewoman and ladies don’t want men. We send them to the beds of others.”

  “So you wish me to bed others?” he asked, baffled.

  “Nay,” she admitted sadly. Lashes fanned over her eyes as she looked away. “I really don’t.”

  “Then?” he prompted, frustrated and confused.

  “I told you, that’s what noblewomen should want.” Pursing her lips together, she kept them from crying out in embarrassment. “And you bid me to be a noblewoman to make your family proud. I’m trying, m’lord. My mother said that noblewomen wish their husbands to bed others since our bodies haven’t the capacity to enjoy a man’s attention. I know tonight must be a test of some sort. I’m afraid I’m failing it miserably. So if you would please give me the correct response to your testing then I’ll do what I’m supposed to. All you have to do is tell me what to do.”

  “When did I bid you that?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side in puzzlement, as if for the life of him, he couldn’t remember ever saying something so stupid.

  “In that missive you sent through Robert when he came back to us wounded from raiders.” Her cheeks pinkened with embarrassment. Mumbling under her breath, she reminded, “And I childishly sent you my pink hair out of spite.”

  Wolfe gulped. He’d written the missive right after Thomas died. The blood had still been
on his hands when he picked up the quill. The remembrance brought him no pleasure. His face darkened only to clear into a blank mask. He avenged his brother by slaughtering the lot of thieves until his body had been soaked in their blood. They’d screamed for a mercy that would never come. Occasionally, the cries still haunted him. But, not so much as what else he had seen that night. It was not something he wished to remember. Vaguely, he recalled his father’s dark announcement making him the heir, a position he never wanted. His mind had been perplexed from grief and he couldn’t recall all he wrote to her.

  “Forget what I wrote to you,” he ordered, grabbing her to him. Her breath caught, but she didn’t pull away. “I would have you as you are. Nobility is thrust upon us by destiny. It’s not always achieved. I want you to say what’s on your mind to me. I want you to touch me anyway your body wishes. And damned if you are your mother’s idea of a noblewoman! I’d not have your mother. I would have the pink-haired nymph running about the countryside in a pair of my breeches.”

  Ginevra shivered at the heated tone of his words. A smile slowly crept to her features. Pleasure at his fervent acceptance swept through her veins until she was completely under his charming spell. Her body gravitated naturally closer to him. Her arms reached for his neck in shy hesitation.

  “As to enjoying it,” he whispered as his mouth sought her parted lips, “I won’t stop until you feel pleasure in a hundred different ways. I can show you such things with your body that you could never imagine.”

  Ginevra drew in a ragged breath, a little frightened by his bold admission. She could feel the deep contours of his muscles as they came up against her soft skin like a stone wall. Her blood raced through her veins, carrying his fire with it. It seared her limbs as she melted into his will. She didn’t want to be just another woman he conquered. She didn’t want to be a trophy he claimed to the jealousy of the other knights.

  But she had no time to protest, no time to reason or think. His mouth crushed against hers claiming her weakened breath. She couldn’t fight him. Her will slipped completely from her grasp with a slight moan. He was what she wanted, the only man she’d ever wanted. Her arms wound about his neck, pulling him closer to her. His words of acceptance spun about in her head like a gust of heavy wind, knocking her off guard.