Emerald Knight

by Michelle M. Pillow

  By all that is holy! she thought incredulously. I’m away from my two husbands!

  Ginevra let go of Purch’s reins. She ran her fingers over the sweaty bareback of the horse before letting him graze freely on the countryside.

  She treaded gingerly over the field, careful as to where she placed her feet. Then, hearing an approaching horse, she cocked her head up. She saw the proud face of Desert before she saw Wolfe. Ginevra gasped in dismay. Turning, she saw Purch had wandered a good distance away. Desperately, she ran full tilt. Her toe stubbed on a jutting rock, but she ignored the pain as it shot up her foot.

  Ginevra sprinted harder, pushing herself to the brink. Unexpectedly, a roar sounded behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes rounded in surprise. Wolfe jumped from his steed.

  “Ah-hah!” he shouted as he landed cleverly next to her. Desert continued on a little ways before stopping to graze next to Purch. Wolfe stumbled over the ground, pulling Ginevra down with his weight as he passed. Spinning at the last moment, he landed on his back so she was cushioned from the fall.

  “Oh!” Ginevra hissed in mortification. “You bloody fool! Are you trying to kill me?”

  Her answer was his hearty laughter.

  Ginevra hit his chest. Wolfe grunted, trying to feign discomfort and failing miserably. His eyes sparkled with mischief. A smile found his face.

  “Well, are you trying to attack me or not?” Ginevra snapped when he didn’t move to strangle her.

  Wolfe’s grin widened. Wrapping his arms around the small of her back, he rolled her onto the soft grass bed. Instantly, his lips met with hers parted in anger. Ginevra tried to protest. He drew back with a frown. Slowly, he shook his head and shushed her heated words. His eyes bore into her with penetrating softness. She stopped struggling, melting instantly into him.

  Wolfe dipped his lips to hers once more. The feel of her soft skin had haunted him for years--the taste of her, the smell of lavender. It drove him mad with desire. He tried to go slow, but as his hands discovered the willingness of her softly moaning body, he couldn’t help himself. It had been too long.

  Like a ravishing beast, he tore at her clothes. Ginevra groaned in frantic excitement. It was as if no time had passed. Her fingers dug beneath his tunics, instantly finding her favorite bend in his chest, right below his nipples. She tore at his waistband, needing to feel him claim her. She needed to know he wasn’t a dream but a real man.

  Freeing his manhood, Ginevra angled her legs apart. Wolfe tugged at her nightgown, hiking the voluptuous material to her waist. Their bodies twitched in pain, neither one able to slow after so much torturous waiting.

  Ginevra panted and moaned, incoherently urging him faster. Wolfe didn’t need to be told. He guided his arousal to her opening. Already he felt the slick moisture awaiting him. With as much control as he could muster, he entered her fast and hard. She contracted around him tightly. Wolfe grunted in pleasant surprise to find her tight.

  Moaning with need, he pumped his hips against her in rough slams of passion. Ginevra’s body accepted him willing, glad that his need matched her own. She didn’t mind his rough touch or fervent passions. Equaling her rhythm to his, she breathed in noisy gasps of growing ecstasy. The tension built within them, tearing their bodies apart with a violent need. Their fingers clawed, desperate to tear through the clothing that kept their bodies from touching completely.

  Wolfe shouted into the field, a low, agonizing sound. His buttocks flexed painfully as he buried himself completely within her silken depths. Ginevra accepted his release and met it with her own. Her body trembled and swayed. Her eyes blackened to the morning light until she almost swooned. Only Wolfe’s sweaty kiss awakened her.

  Wolfe took her pleasured gasps into his mouth, breathing them in with her unique scent. As the trembling subsided, he rolled off of her completely spent. Pulling her into the crook of his arm, they lay hidden in the tall grasses.

  “I’ve missed you, wife,” he whispered delicately against her temple before kissing it.

  Ginevra shivered, breathless. “What happened? I thought you were angry with me.”

  “I was. That’s until I saw our son. He’s beautiful, Gin. You did a wonderful job. I swear my heart almost burst when I laid my eyes upon him.” Wolfe kissed her again, pulling her closer. “In that moment, I realized that all the demons that haunt us don’t matter. He’s what matters, our Thomas. And we’re what matter, just us--husband and wife.”

  “But, what of William?” Ginevra asked. “I’m married to him, too.”

  “I would’ve done the same thing as he, had you been his widow,” Wolfe admitted. “Whatever it was, I know that you married him for a reason.”

  “Your father was about to accept a proposal on my behalf. Don’t be angry with him. He only wanted to see me happy. When we were told you died, I--”

  Ginevra suddenly cried. Pushing away from him, she sat up. Wolfe saw her shoulders tremble. Coming up next to her, he hugged her to his chest.

  “What?” he urged. “What, Gin?”

  “I wanted to die too. I couldn’t bring myself to face living without you. You’ve been my whole world since the day I was born. I grew up knowing exactly who I was to marry and when. And, well,” Ginevra shrugged helplessly, “I was too numb to care about aught else.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Wolfe said. “And it’s all right. I know that you had to consummate--”

  “Nay,” Ginevra shot, her eyes growing round. “We didn’t. We tried to start but it wasn’t right. We couldn’t even manage to get our clothes off.” Suddenly, she giggled. “Poor William. It was very hard for him.”

  “Obviously, not too hard,” Wolfe teased. He felt a masculine relief sweep through him. Though he knew if she had gone to his brother, he wouldn’t have held it against her.

  “Oh,” Ginevra gasped in dismay, playfully hitting his arm. “I meant because he thought his new wife gone mad. I told him I saw your ghost and he wanted to lock me away and toss out the key. I must say, it was quite a nasty trick to play on us.”

  “I know,” Wolfe said. He would have been remorseful if he wasn’t so happy. “I just had to sort through some things first.”

  “So why did you pretend to be a ghost?” Ginevra laid her head against his chest. Absently rubbing at his back in small caresses, her fingers skipped over several scars. She froze, sitting up straight to look at him in horror. “What--?”

  “Gin,” Wolfe sighed. He pulled her hand away. “I told you that I lived through hell. I didn’t lie.”

  “What did they do to you?” She wouldn’t be deterred so easily. Pushing at his back, she lifted his shirt. Underneath were the straight puckered lines of whip lashes. She gasped in fright.

  Wolfe gently pulled her back to his chest. He knew he had to tell her. His brown eyes clouded for a moment, as he said, “Gin, they didn’t do aught we wouldn’t have done in their place. In fact, I think we did much worse.”

  Ginevra’s featured turned sorrowful as she carefully watched him. Swallowing, she lightly touched his face. “In so many ways you look so different.”

  “Yea,” Wolfe nodded. “I am different. Can you accept that?”

  “I accept you; that’s what matters.” Ginevra smiled, cupping his chin. “For you are the same to me.”

  “I was taken prisoner after battle,” Wolfe said.

  “That much I have been told,” Ginevra admitted.

  Wolfe mustered a small smile at her interruption, before sadly continuing, “I saw things I could never describe to you. I spent many months in a Turkish prison. I saw our countrymen come in and they never left. I myself was whipped to elicit a confession--”

  “To confess what?”

  Wolfe lifted his finger. “Shhh. Or I won’t tell you.”

  Dutifully, she nodded. Her wide emerald eyes watched him with hurried patience. She unconsciously leaned into him, as if she could erase all of his pain.

  “They didn’t care. They just figured if they whip
ped me, I’d confess to something. The more I kept quiet, the more I was beaten. Then they left me to recover.” Wolfe leaned over to lightly brush a kiss on her furrowed brow. “Every memory I had of you flashed through my head in that prison. I thought I deserved to die for ever hurting you. So when they asked my name I lied.”

  “But--”

  “Nay. Truthfully, it wasn’t just that. It was the knowledge of the whole foolish campaign. We shouldn’t have been there. I didn’t understand it when I left, but I do now. I tell this to no one but you. I trust you, Gin.”

  Wolfe’s fingers shook. His eyes bore into her with such raw emotion that she thought she might scream at the intensity of it. His body shook, almost unable to believe that she was real, that he was finally at home in her arms. Her voice held quiet, knowing that he was placing his life in her hands. For what he said, if even repeated in a rumor linked to his name, could be considered traitorous.

  “I couldn’t bear to see so many of my men tortured day after day.” As he spoke, his eyes became dull as if he didn’t see her before him. Ginevra lifted a hand to rest on his chest. “And, God save me, I hated the Saracens for what they did. I wanted to kill them all. I wanted to die. But then Saif adDin, Saladin’s brother, discovered who I was. He took me above the prisons and gave me a soft bed to sleep in. He treated me kinder than we treated their captured nobles. We were invited to great feasts and shown the marvels of their castles. Saif adDin really wanted to prove to us how civilized they were. He didn’t like the endless wars of his people and pressed his brother for peace. I helped him to negotiate many terms with Richard and when I left for home he was still arranging the treaty.

  “But, before I was released, Saladin hesitated. He didn’t return the promised prisoners or the Holy Cross we sought to reclaim on time. Richard marched well over twenty five hundred men into the city and ordered them beheaded one by one. I stood with Saif ad-Din on his terrace as it happened. I can still see his face as he silently watched. My hatred faded, knowing he felt for his people what I did for mine. The mass execution took many hours. Hell, some of them were just boys. It was more death than I ever wanted to witness again.”

  Ginevra felt her stomach lurch. Her hands shook. “Nay, you--”

  “Gin, don’t. I,” Wolfe hesitated. He wiped a tear from her face. “I shouldn’t have told you that. I was just trying to make you understand why I was so confused.”

  “How could Richard? I met him--” Ginevra gasped. She hugged herself to Wolfe’s strong chest.

  “Nay, even Saif ad-Din realized that his brother would’ve done the same thing. It’s the way of war. But what I have come to realize was that we could never control such things. They are meant by destiny to happen. Just like me here with you now is destiny. We can’t question it, only accept it.”

  Ginevra trembled delicately in his arms. Slowly, he drew back down into the tall grasses. He nestled her into the crook of his arm. Wolfe let his lungs breath, feeling the weight of his burdens lifting from his chest. Leisurely, he turned to look at her. Her eyes had drifted closed.

  “Wolfe,” she murmured, feeling him stir beneath her head.

  “Yea, Gin.”

  “I’m sorry too--for everything. I should have told you of your son. I was angry with you for leaving me. I was angry with you for taking other women to your bed during the tournament. And I know, being gone so long you--probably--”

  Wolfe felt her tremble. Glancing down, he realized that she cried. She refused to look at him and tried to pull away. Wolfe refused to let her go. She pushed more insistently at his chest, trying to hide her face. He turned on his side, cupping her jaw with his palm.

  Ginevra couldn’t meet his eyes. He’d explained so much to her, but said nothing of the letter he had sent her. He said nothing of loving her. And she cared so much for him that it was hard to breathe. Her heart had always belonged to him.

  “There were no others. Not since you,” Wolfe whispered.

  Her eyes finally locked with his. She read the truth in their familiar brown depths. A bittersweet relief flowed over her. Sniffing, she closed her eyes and nestled closer. It was not the confession of love she’d hoped for. But having him once again safe in her arms was enough. She could live with his just being alive.

  “I’m tired,” she murmured. Her eyes drifted open for a languid moment before shutting once more. It was all she could say, without saying too much. The long years poured in on them, the endless nights of worry and sleeplessness. Wolfe sighed and kissed her on her head. And there, in the tall waving grasses of Whetshire land, they fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Morning coolness turned into afternoon warmth as the noble couple slumbered in the field. Murmuring lightly in protest, Ginevra inched closer to Wolfe’s side. Grimacing as she felt a sharp poke in her back, she smiled, thinking Wolfe was trying to wake her. She ignored the poke, content to linger in drowsy comfort.

  The prodding became more insistent, almost painful. Ginevra groaned and swatted behind her. Her fingers met with a stick as it withdrew from her back. Frowning, she quickly sat up. Blinking heavily to clear the sleep from her eyes, she looked around. Gasping, she saw a pair of black clad legs. Her mouth opened to scream as her hand shot behind her searching for Wolfe in fright.

  “Shhh,” came a soft voice. “Don’t move.”

  Instantly, she recognized the foreign drawl of Lord Eilric. Swallowing, she followed the legs up over lean masculine hips to the narrow but sturdy folds of his chest. And finally, seeing his face outlined with sunlight, she scowled darkly at him.

  About to speak, she saw the warning in his eyes. Following his gaze, she saw his hand was raised with a sword. The blade tip pressed into the soft flesh of Wolfe’s throat. Wolfe stared angrily back at the man, knowing instantly who he was.

  “Get up, Ginevra,” the man said. His voice was coarse, his face contorted.

  “Lord Eilric?” Ginevra began. “What are you doing? It’s not what you think. This is Lord Wolfram, my husband come back from the war. Take down your arm at once and no harm will befall you for your mistake.”

  “I know well who he is,” Eilric spat. “Now, get up.”

  Ginevra glanced at Wolfe. His eyes didn’t leave Eilric’s face as he curtly tilted his jaw in a motion for her to stand.

  “You don’t need his permission!” Eilric raged. “Do as I say!”

  Quickly, Ginevra ambled to her feet. Her nightgown flowed over her body like the whispering of wind through the rolling grasses. She turned her back to Wolfe, hoping to cause enough distraction to give him time to free himself from the blade point.

  “Now, move away,” Lord Eilric commanded. When she didn’t move fast enough for his liking, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. Pressing her to his body, he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. Coldly, he stated, “It’s time we were done with this, Ginevra.”

  “Done with what?” she questioned in confusion. She glanced from Wolfe to Eilric and back again.

  “This monster killed my brother, massacred him in his own bed. He murdered his friends, his family, and even his wife pregnant with his child.” Eilric glared wildly at Wolfe. His hand never wavered. “I rejoiced the day I learned you were killed in the crusades. I thought God delivered justice for me, but I see God was only waiting until I was ready to kill you myself.”

  “What?” Ginevra questioned. She glanced at Wolfe. He lay unmoving. “Who was your brother?”

  “He was a great man, a fearless leader that fed the poor and protected them against the injustice of English nobility.” Eilric’s arm stiffened on Ginevra’s waist. “I was going to kill him at the tournament. It was why I was there. Then I saw you, Ginevra. I saw your beauty and knew I had to have you for my own. I would’ve saved you from him, but I hurt my wrist and couldn’t complete my mission. So I bided my time. I knew duty and fate would once again bring us together.”

  “What was your brother’s name?” Wolfe stated darkly. He didn’t miss
the familiar way his attacker addressed his wife. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Ginevra glanced at him, her eyes hard. She didn’t look fearful. Derisively, he smirked, “I think I’d remember killing such a noble and true man.”

  “He was Hrod of Eschenfeld, known to most as the Dark Swordsman.” Eilric stated proudly.

  “The Dark Swordsman and his companions were a murdering lot of thieves that pillaged and ravished their way throughout the countryside. He wasn’t murdered in his bed. I tracked him down like the animal he was and fought him fairly. As to his wife, he threw her onto my blade to protect himself.” Wolfe’s jaw tightened. It had been a gruesome task he’d performed that night, bringing the head of his brother’s slayer to his father. His chest lifted with angry breaths as he watched Eilric for one mistake he could exploit.

  “I’m going to do what I should have done years ago,” Eilric announced. A smirk lined his lips at Wolfe’s helpless outrage. Wolfe could see nothing from his position on the ground but the two who stood above him. The blade pressed deeper into his throat, drawing a thin line of blood from his flesh. Wolfe felt it bead only to run a rivet down the side of his neck.

  “Eilric,” Ginevra murmured in a throaty growl. She smiled widely for her captor. He glanced in mild surprise as he saw it in the corner of his eye. Wolfe growled. Ginevra puckered her lips and slowly pressed an opened-mouthed kiss onto Eilric’s stubbled cheek. The man jolted in surprise at the forward advance. But his pleasure soon faded as Ginevra took advantage of his momentary lapse. Angling her arm about his neck, she pulled with all her weight, causing Eilric to fall with her onto their backs.

  As they fell, Ginevra screamed, “Wolfe run!”

  Wolfe shot up instantly. Jumping to his feet, he whistled for Desert. The horse burst out of the nearby forest followed by Ginevra’s startled steed. His sword was still strapped to the horse’s back.