Emerald Knight

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “What are you doing?” he asked when she laid his clothes on the bed.

  “Changing,” she answered before frowning through the mud. “Turn away.”

  “Nay, it’s my tent.” He licked his lips as he watched her expectantly. Slowly, he rose up on his elbows. His half-eaten meal fell to the side, forgotten.

  Letting her eyes roll in her head, Ginevra sat on the dirt by his trunk where Wolfe couldn’t see her. As she was finally out of his sight, her limbs shook. His naked form on the bed, so nonchalant and proud, was heating her blood to the point of boiling. The touch of his firm body was still too fresh in her mind to ignore. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her eyes from drinking in the sight of him.

  Carefully, she lifted her wet gown about her waist. Then, pulling it over her head, she flung it off. Finding a dry spot, she wiped her face and wrung out the front strands of her hair the best she could.

  Wolfe watched the edge of the bed, seeing her hands reach up to gracefully tear the gown from her body. Her slender arms shone in the dim light as she once again lowered them. He felt his body stir with longing as he heard her moving about. Leaning forward, he grabbed the breeches and hid them under his pillow. He was about to do the same with the tunic when her head poked up from the end of the bed.

  Her naked arm darted forward to grab the tunic. She disappeared for a moment only to stand wearing his shirt. The tunic was one of his shorter ones but fell to her knees. Rolling the sleeves, she seemed completely at ease in the ill-fitted material as it swam about her body. Pulling her long hair from the back of the shirt, she looked at the bed in confusion. Turning around, she looked at the floor and then again to the bed.

  A question formed on her lips as she met his eyes. It was never spoken as he smiled innocently in response.

  “Give me the breeches,” she ordered, holding out her hand.

  “Ask nicely,” he bid with a gentle motion of his head and a come-hither gleam in his eyes.

  Taken with the easy smile on his firm lips and the heady scent of him that came from the tunic she wore, she stepped forward. His dark eyes were piercing, as the captivating smile he carried grew wider. It beckoned her to him.

  “Give them to me now,” she commanded, though her words grew husky and lacked venom.

  “That is not nicely, m’lady,” he said, denying her the breeches.

  “Give them to me, please,” she stated with softer words. Her feet moved to him, mindless of the commands of her brain to stop.

  “Better,” he whispered. Her narrowing eyes entranced Wolfe as her long lashes fell over her emerald gaze. He took in her naked thighs as they teased him with peeks through the slits of the tunic. Her muscular calves were small and rounded and tapered to delightfully slender ankles. When she looked at him again, she smiled. Wolfe felt the fire in his blood begin to scorch his veins.

  “Where are they?” she asked, playfully.

  Wolfe shook his head. “I’d be hard-pressed to give them up. They are my favorite pair.”

  “Really?” Ginevra’s word was hoarse as she licked her lips. Her eyes darted to his parting mouth. He waited for her kiss.

  “Really,” he confirmed. His eyes closed as she leaned into him.

  “Fine, I’ll borrow another,” she said cheerfully, denying him her touch. Wolfe growled. Ginevra smirked as she went to his trunk. Lifting the lid, she rifled through his belongings, purposefully messing them up, before coming to a dark brown pair. Slamming the lid, she slid the breeches over her naked legs. Then, grabbing the strap of leather, she tied it around her waist to fashion a belt.

  Wolfe glared at her. His body shook violently with the need she aroused inside of him. His loins pulsed heavy, not used to being denied.

  “It’s late,” she commented, as if nothing happened. Inside her body shook with a mighty force, but the sweet taste of having the upper hand with him made her stay back. “We should get some rest. William tells me that we are to leave on the morrow around noon for Whetshire.”

  Ginevra walked to the bed and pulled a spare fur from the end. Laying it on the floor, she curled up in it and turned away from him. Soon, she pretended to sleep. Wolfe growled and hit the bed in frustration. He refused to go to her, refused to let her win.

  Ginevra spent the night alone on the dirt floor, wishing he would just give in.

  Chapter Ten

  Ginevra gave a derisive grin as she looked into Desert’s solemn eyes. The stallion obstinately nodded his head at her inspection. Knowing that they had an understanding, she patted Wolfe’s horse lightly on the neck before leading him to his master’s tent. The morning was young, but the encampment was nearly empty. Only a few servants remained to clear up the last tent standing--theirs.

  Ginevra frowned. She awoke that morning to find Wolfe’s trunk and all his belongings gone. William had sneaked in during the hours before dawn and stole the trunk. In its stead, he’d left Wolfe’s weapons, a satchel full of enough food to last the journey home, a pair of clothes for Wolfe to wear, and a parchment stating he would see their personal belongings safely delivered to Whetshire. He also noted he did so as not to aggravate Wolfe’s wounds since his brother would undoubtedly have to travel slowly. Wolfe merely laughed. Ginevra paled, realizing she was to make the excursion with him alone.

  Tying the destrier’s reins around a post, she ducked into the tent. Her eyes were smudged with dark circles, but she forced herself to smile as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She glanced at Wolfe sitting on the bed. He was fully clothed and stood as she entered. For a moment she froze. It was one thing to have him stranded helplessly on the bed, quite another to have him standing before her. He was simply dressed in brown breeches, leather boots and a black wool tunic that laced lazily in the front, exposing his thick neck and strong chest. Ginevra’s mouth went dry. His sword slung over his shoulder to hang at his waist. As he stepped forward, she could see the strength behind his relaxed movements.

  “Lora took my mare,” she stated grimly. “The groom said William ordered it readied. We’ll both have to share Desert. He’s outside. I hope you don’t mind riding bareback, only his reins were left.”

  “It’s fine.” Wolfe’s smile curled into a devilish grin. Ginevra paled as his eyes took in her form with one gentle sweep. She quickly turned away. Cursing herself for staring too long, she tried to ignore his irritatingly confident chuckle as he took the rolled fur coverlet and left to tie it to his horse.

  Grabbing the satchel from the table, she tugged the loose pair of breeches and adjusted the waist. William hadn’t left her a change of clothes so she was stuck in the tunic. Not that she cared. She was quite comfortable in the masculine ensemble. Touching her cheek, she absently scratched at a thin caking of dirt on her jaw. She’d already untangled her hair the best she could of all mud clumps from Helewysa’s little prank.

  “Ready?”

  His whisper was directly behind her. Ginevra didn’t hear his approach. Whirling on her heels, she met with his sturdy chest. Her eyes darted to the soft divot at the base of his throat. She swayed as her knees weakened and her hand landed on his heartbeat to steady her movements. The tent began to spin with his nearness.

  Breathless, she looked up into his handsome gaze. Her heart beat nervously. His lips drew closer and his gaze held her captive within. Unnerved from his nearness, her lashes dipped down. Tilting her head to receive his kiss, she nearly swooned with anticipation.

  Wolfe eyed her parted lips. He let his breath land softly on the moistened offering. A weak moan came from her throat. Whispering, so that only a hairsbreadth of space existed between their mouths, he said, “Mount up.”

  Ginevra jolted at the quiet command. Her eyes shot open to glare at him. He smirked delightedly as her face turned a bright shade of angry red.

  Spinning abruptly from her, he said over his shoulder, “We’re wasting traveling hours, m’lady.”

  Ginevra watched him with fists clenched and ready to strike. She was fo
rced to take a deep breath before she could manage to walk. Adjusting the satchel on her shoulder, she marched out of the tent. Wolfe was already mounted when she joined him.

  With a hard look of disapproval, she grumbled, “You should be more careful with your wound. I won’t have you bleeding to death on the way.”

  “Oh, would you miss me if I were to perish?” he queried with a devilish smile. His brown eyes glittered with amusement.

  “Only as one misses the familiar annoyance of a village imbecile,” she quipped in return.

  Wolfe sighed as he held his hand to her. She took it and swung up behind him in one graceful movement. Then, taking the satchel from her shoulder, she handed it around his body so he could hang it over the horse’s back.

  “I can’t believe Will took Purch,” Ginevra breathed in dejection behind him.

  “Hold on, m’lady.” Wolfe refused to answer her. He nudged Desert with a slight kick of the foot. “I should hate for you to fall lest Desert prove to be too much animal for you.”

  “I could ride this stallion blindfolded,” she shot back.

  “I have no doubt, since you’re only riding. I’m doing the actual work,” Wolfe said, baiting her with his easy smile. “Still, I should hate for you to fall.”

  “That’s all right.” She rejected his offer with a shake of her head. “I wouldn’t want to upset your wound.”

  “You could always grab on lower,” he offered with a smug toss of his head. He could feel her enticing heat behind him. His body still stung from her rejection the night before. Losing none of his charm, he said, “I wouldn’t mind too much.”

  “Not even out of necessity, m’lord,” she whispered defiantly near his ear. Her breast grazed the heat of his back. She ignored the pleasure of his body. “Not even if you paid--argh!”

  Her words were lost in the beating of hooves as he spurred his horse through the clearing of the field. Ginevra jolted in surprise, her hands automatically finding a hold around his ribs. When his stomach lurched, she loosed her grip and moved her hands lower. Wolfe threw back his head and laughed, as he continued to race with her along the countryside.

  Getting used to the feel of the horse, Ginevra loosened her grip. Unable to stop the smile of pure pleasure from forming on her face, she tightened her legs about the stallion and flung her fingers into the air. Wolfe jumped in alarm as she let go and glanced nervously over his shoulder. Seeing the long trail of her wild hair fluttering behind them and the slender curve of her exposed neck peeking through his tunic shirt, he relaxed. The pure freedom of her face and the sheer pleasure she derived from a simple gallop amazed him. Never before had he seen the fine look on her features as he did when he glanced at her.

  Wolfe kicked Desert, urging the horse faster. Ginevra smiled as she seized Wolfe’s hips. His buttocks slammed back into her as he leaned forward. Ginevra leaned into his back, helping the horse to run even faster. The sea of rolling grasses flew past the thundering hooves of Desert’s feet. The very power of the animal legs drove it forward in galloping strokes of energy.

  As they neared the end of the long field, Wolfe slowly sat up and pulled Desert into a lighter stride. The animal obeyed and shortened his gait to an easy trot.

  Sighing in delight, Ginevra forgot her animosity and leaned forward to lay her cheek along Wolfe’s sturdy back. Wolfe felt her gentle caress and froze. He didn’t want to move and startle her away. As the stallion moved down a rock incline to a well-worn path that headed home, they didn’t deign to break the silence.

  Acres of woodland foliage and fields of rolling lush grasses stretched around the voiceless couple as they rode. The sun glittered bright and proud over their heads, crowning them in their stubbornness, but the gentle breeze kept it from burning too hot. Only once did Ginevra speak, asking Wolfe to pass back some dried meat. They chewed in silence, not stopping Desert as they continued home. The horse walked at a leisurely pace. Wolfe saved the stallion’s energy for the long trek ahead.

  As the uneventful hours passed, Ginevra yawned in boredom. Stretching her hands above her head, she sighed audibly into the sky.

  “Tired?” Wolfe inquired over his shoulder. “Would you like me to stop?”

  The concern in his words took her off guard. “Nay, I’m fine. It’s just tiresome back here without my own horse.”

  “It’s getting on in the day. I think I should try to do some hunting, lest we won’t have fresh meat for the journey,” Wolfe voiced absently. Nodding to the distance, he said, “I believe there’s a stream that way should you like to wash the mud from your hair. It will make a good place to camp for the night.”

  Ginevra bit her lip at the reminder of her mud bath. Stiffening against him, she breathed, “Fine.”

  Wolfe nudged Desert, moving swiftly into the forest. Within moments, they were by a clearing next to a small stream. The sun wasn’t as bright as speckles of light danced on the woodland floor. Lacking comment, Ginevra slid from the horse before it completely stopped. Wolfe jumped to the ground with a questioning glance to her back.

  “I’ll get firewood,” she announced.

  “Gin, is aught amiss?” he inquired, his voice even.

  “Nay.” Her shoulders twitched in rigid propulsions, as she leaned over to grab a stick and then another. She refused to look at him as she angrily stacked the firewood in her arms.

  Wolfe tethered Desert’s reins loosely so the horse could graze near the stream. Then, taking off the saddle pack, he pulled out his dagger and fastened it at his waist. When he turned around, Ginevra was gone. Wolfe frowned in frustration, but didn’t go after her.

  Ginevra stoked the fire into a bright blaze. Kneeling, she looked around the clearing for Wolfe. He was gone. She assumed he was hunting. However, he didn’t tell her he was leaving so she wasn’t sure. Desert was tethered nearby. The horse’s comforting snorts and whinnies joined the forest sounds. Wind wrestled treetops showered their songs from above. The clear waters of the stream flowed gently, resounding over the peaceful campsite.

  Shivering, Ginevra looked at the inviting stream, drawn to the water’s edge. With a sigh, she felt her dirty locks. They were still caked with mud from Helewysa’s attack. Smiling despite herself, she laughed as she remembered the naked noblewoman’s stunned face. If she had to decide, she rather thought her attack was the better revenge. What was a little mud compared to the humiliation of being put on public display? Surely nobles and peasants alike would be talking about it for several years to come.

  Still chuckling, she dipped her hands into the cold water and splashed it on her face. Scrubbing the grime of travel from her features, she soon found herself longing for a bath. With a quick glance around the campsite, she slowly unbuckled her belt. Then, when she heard no human sounds coming from the surrounding forest, she slipped out of the borrowed breeches. Her tunic was soon to follow, landing in a crumpled pile on the shore.

  Desert sniffed the air as he nodded his head. Ginevra glanced at him with a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes. Standing naked by the shore, she waded into the cool stream. As the water deepened, she sat. The cool liquid lapped about her shoulders in a gentle caress. She sighed happily and took handfuls of sand from the bottom to scrub at her skin. The water clouded around her with dirt, but soon cleared as it was swept away with the current, leaving her clean.

  Ginevra didn’t notice the steamy gaze that watched her steadily from behind a large oak tree. The blood thickened in the man’s veins as he spied the naked woman on the shore, as his brown eyes shot fire from under half-raised lids. Her sprightly body moved deliciously in the sunlight as she waded into the water. He grasped the skinned rabbits tightly in his fists. Smiling in pleasure, he tossed the meal soundlessly near the campsite. Then, turning, he disappeared into the trees.

  Ginevra washed furiously, cleansing her skin the best she could without the aid of soaps. Then, rinsing her hair in the same fashion, she pulled the wet locks to ring them out the best she could. Having no linen to
dry off with, she quickly climbed out of the stream and brushed the water droplets from her skin with a gentle flick of her hands.

  Satisfied that she was as dry as she could make herself, she pulled Wolfe’s tunic over her head and quickly did up the breeches. Lifting her wet locks, she wound them into a knot at the nape of her neck and bound it in place with a leather strap. Suddenly, she frowned. Looking at the ground, she saw two skinned rabbits ready to cook. A blush colored her features as she glanced to the trees.

  “Wolfe?” she questioned carefully. She received no answer. “Wolfe, this isn’t amusing.”

  Still she got no answer. Feeling exposed, she lightly tossed another stick on the fire. That was when she saw a neat pile of firewood stacked near the rabbits. Taking one, she placed it on the flames that instantly roared with the attention. Feeling an odd chill, she shivered. Next to the firewood was the making of a spit. She shook her wet locks. With much haste, she built the spit and set the rabbits to cooking.

  Wolfe’s stomach growled as he neared the camp. He smelled the cooking meat before he saw Ginevra by the fire turning a spit. Striding forward, he raised a questioning brow at her handiwork as he tossed a rabbit near her feet.

  Ginevra’s eyes shot up in surprise. His piercing gaze swept over her wet hair and freshly scrubbed skin. A smile lined his firm lips as he looked down at her breasts. Her cheeks instantly colored as she thought of him watching her bathe. Glancing at his offering, she asked lightly, “Do you really think we need that many?”

  Wolfe frowned. Taking the dagger from his waist, he tossed it to the ground. The blade embedded in the dirt near his rabbit. Ginevra eyed the bloodied weapon before grabbing it. Taking it to the water’s edge, she quickly rinsed it off.

  “You appear to know your way around a campsite,” Wolfe admitted reluctantly.

  “Surprised I can build a fire?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.