Knights of Valor

by Denise Domning

  Elena's knees shook, her body trembled, felt like it was on fire. She reached her him. He hovered over her, his arms bracing his weight on either side of her shoulders as he nipped at her lips, sucked the tender flesh and then claimed her mouth for a savage, hungry kiss. With her toes, she trailed over his calves and the backs of his thighs, before she realized what she was doing.

  "Why did you stop?" he murmured against her lips.

  "I…I don't know." Why had she stopped? Michael wanted her to touch him. Knowing he desired her touch just as much as she yearned for his pushed her forward. She did it again, loving the feel of his body against her.

  Elena trailed her fingers up and over his arms, worshipping each and every line of sinew. Over his back, massaging, stroking. He was so strong, taut. She tugged on his linen shirt until he relented and took it off. Bronze muscled chest, rippling stomach, and thick arms were her treat. She splayed her hands over his chest, the sprinkle of crisp hair tickling her palms. She liked touching him. Relished his groans of pleasure and his hooded passionate gaze.

  So, this was what making love was. Giving pleasure and receiving it in return.

  She had the sudden craving to feel his skin against her own. Elena sat up, pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, and then moved to stand. He stayed knelt before her, and after untying the sides of her gown, she lifted it up and over her head. She stood before him, nearly nude with her chemise and stays hiding her flesh from his eyes.

  "Turn around." His gentle command was given in a husky tone that sent shivers of delight racing along her spine.

  She obeyed him. Not for fear of retribution, but because she wanted desperately to be out of her clothes. Desired at this moment more than anything, to feel his flesh on hers, his mouth on her skin.

  With deft fingers he unlaced her corset and let it fall to the ground. Elena resisted the urge to throw it into the hearth. To watch it burn to ash.

  Michael lifted the hem of her chemise exposing her behind. She moved to shove it back down instinctively, but then his hot lips were on the round flesh of her nether cheek, she gasped, then sighed. Everything Michael did felt good. Better than good. Wicked, delicious. He nipped her flesh. Elena gasped with shock as torrents of unknown, seductive sensations rippled through her. She tugged the chemise over her head and whipped it to the side.

  With his warm hands on her hips he turned her to face him, her most intimate part only inches from his face. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

  "You are even more gorgeous than I ever imagined."

  His hands splayed over her hips. His eyes hungrily took in every inch of her. Michael couldn't have been aware of how much his words meant to her, how much she'd craved to hear that she was desirous.

  "Thank y—" she started to murmur, but her words were cut off as he buried his face in the juncture of her thighs.

  Her knees threatened to buckle, and she stifled a cry. He kissed her curls, his hands massaging, coaxing.

  "Your scent is intoxicating." His spoken words against the sensitive flesh sent cascading waves of decadence through her. "I'm going to taste you."

  "Oh, God," she mumbled, her head falling back.

  He pulled her closer, his tongue delving between the slick folds of her nether region, flicking over a heightened sensual spot that caused her insides to turn to mush, her knees to quake violently, and moans of pleasure to escape unheeded from her lips.

  What he did to her felt too wondrous to stop, and too wicked to be anything but sin. Never had she imagined that a man and a woman could make love like this. Michael was opening up a whole new world to her, one she never wanted to leave, and one that would ultimately have to end, or they'd both be put up on the chopping block.

  His fingers slid into her center, pumping in time with the flicking of his tongue, and all her morbid thoughts disappeared to be replaced by a vast canvas of desire, pleasure, ecstasy. Elena gripped his shoulders to steady herself, her hips rocked with his ministrations, and her eyes closed in silent delight.

  Pressure built within her. She was on the brink of something, she wasn't sure what, couldn't comprehend it, only knew she wanted him to keep going. A spark popped in the hearth just as her body broke apart, wave after wave of piping hot fire tore its way through her womb, her limbs, her heart. The shriek of pleasure she gave was sure to wake up the entire castle.

  Her knees gave way, and Michael steadied her, laying her down on the fur rug. Another wicked sense of enjoyment rippled through her as the soft rug tickled her bare flesh.

  "Oh, Michael," she murmured.

  A soft scratching at the door cleared her desire-filled haze, fear taking over.

  "My lady, is everything all right? We heard…something." Raelyn's voice echoed questioningly on the other side of the door.

  Elena's face flamed hot. No doubt, her maid ran to her room when she didn't hear the belligerent shouts of her husband, only Elena's shouts of pleasure.

  Elena tried to speak, but her voice came out a harsh, choked whisper. She cleared her throat. "Just a nightmare, Raelyn."

  Elena could sense Raelyn's hesitation on the other side of the door. A long pause followed.

  "Sweet dreams," her maid finally said. "We shall inform any visitors you are not to be disturbed."

  Considering it was well into the middle of the night, Raelyn's words were almost humorous. If anything, they gave away that she knew Elena had a guest. She flopped her arm over her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut.

  For once, she had let herself go. Fell quickly into Michael's embrace and enjoyed the most deliciously carnal pleasure of her life, and she'd been caught. Her insides warred between telling him he must go, and letting him please her further.

  Michael's soft laugh caught her attention, and she peeked at him through hooded lashes.

  "I believe your maid feared for your safety." He lay down beside her, pulling her once again into his arms. "I think she's not heard you shout like that before."

  "Ugh," she groaned, feeling the heat once again enflame her face. "'Tis a dangerous game we play."

  Michael nodded, his fingers trailing circles over her belly. "One I wish to play again." He kissed her breast, his lips tantalizing her flesh. He blew gently over her nipple until it puckered, strained for him to take it into his mouth. And he didn't leave her waiting long.

  His lips circled the turgid bud, tongue fluttering around it. She moaned low in her throat, the sparks that had so recently tamped down, flaring up once again.

  "You make me feel so good, Michael. I've never—" She didn't know how to express what was the rapture he brought to her.

  "'Twas your pleasure, a peak, the pinnacle of desire. When I stroked you with my tongue…" He licked her nipple again. "When I thrust my fingers inside you…" His fingers caressed down her belly, over her mons and sank once again into her flesh. "You came alive."

  Elena bucked her hips, arched her back. "Aye."

  "Your reactions are so honest, so passionate." He slipped his fingers from inside her and grasped her hand. "Touch me. Feel what you do to me."

  He placed her hand on his engorged member, straining the confines of his woolen breeches. The muscle in his jaw ticked, his eyes glazed, and he moaned. His reaction to her touch only made her more bold. She stroked him, enjoying the heavy weight of him in her palm. He was large, much larger than Kent, she feared they wouldn't fit. But at the same time, urgency took over. She wanted him to sink inside her, the most intimate part of him, touching her, pulsing within her. She wanted him to peak, to reach the pinnacle of their desire together.

  Pushing him onto his back, she was overcome with a need to be in charge, and Michael acquiesced to her silent demand. She unthreaded the ties of his breeches, pulled them down to his ankles, not bothering to remove his boots. She stared hungrily at his rigged length as it jut out from his body, long, hard, thick.

  Elena moved to straddle his hips, desire coursing through her. Her gaze locked with his. Hungry blue-green eyes de
voured her from head to toe. Michael threaded his fingers with hers, placing them on his chest. His hips thrust up at the same time she sank down, taking him fully inside her, stretching her. She was surprised when no pain accompanied his invasion, even more surprised when hot rampant sensations whipped through her. Her body dripped with need, coating him, easing his entrance. She didn't even know that a woman's body could do that, would do that. All the more reason she loved this knight. Her body had a mind of its own, and demanded she mate with him, demanded satisfaction, demanded pleasure anew.

  She rocked her hips back and forth, up and down, swirled them in a circle, finding her rhythm, melding it with his. Her head fell back as once again rapture enveloped her, taking her to heights she'd never known.

  He moved his hands to her hips, stroking her, holding her steady as he thrust inside her. He massaged her breasts, tickled her belly and ribs, came up on his elbows to nip at her flesh as he continued to plunge deeper, faster. She met each thrust with a rock of her hips.

  And then it was there again. Her body winding tighter and tighter, round and round, until it snapped, unraveling, shattering. Michael captured her mouth at the moment she reeled, taking her moans with it. He pulsed inside of her, his own groans of satisfaction melding with hers.

  They collapsed in a heap of damp, tangled limbs, sated sighs on their lips.

  As they held hands, their contented murmurs filling the room, Elena was aware of one thing—tonight had irrevocably changed everything. No longer could she live without Michael, and never again would she let her husband touch her.

  He snuck from the shadows outside of her ladyship's chamber. His knees ached from standing rigid. From waiting hours to know for sure about the events that took place within. He'd watched the captain and the lady as they raced, hand in hand for her chamber. None the wiser to who might lurk.

  A wicked smile curved his lips.

  Imbeciles.

  They should have known better than to run carefree, adulterous desire raging from their bodies. Oh, they'd looked about them. Made a good effort, too. But he was good. Hid too well. They were lucky he wasn't of a mind to tell his lordship.

  It hadn't taken long before muffled cries of pleasure could be heard. Who did they think they were fooling?

  His cock was full, throbbing from the sounds of their fucking. Her ladyship had never entertained him thusly, even though he'd made it more than clear he would have taken her.

  Damn, Devereux. The captain owed him more than he knew. Of all the cocks in England, it had to be that bastard'sthat took the flesh he so badly desired

  He skulked down to the great hall, snores from the wounded sounded loudly. Behind a screen he found what he was looking for. A servant girl slumbered, hair the color of straw, not as shiny and lustrous as their mistress, but she would do. He rolled her over roughly, and climbed on top of her. Her eyes widened with shock, fear. He clamped his hand over her mouth. Fumbled with his breeches, her skirts. He thrust into her. Pounded into her flesh. He took out his frustration, anger, desires on the woman. He didn't hear her moans of pain, only the shouts of pleasure from Lady Elena.

  And when he peaked, he imagined it was her ladyship. But he wasn't sated. Not fully. Nothing could satisfy him like she could. His member rose again, and he continued to thrust inside the serving wench, releasing twice more before he could no longer go on. And still he wasn't satisfied. He raged with an internal desire so rampant that only Lady Elena would be able to soothe him. Only her.

  Elena slept well. So well, in fact, she didn't wake up until well past Mass. She hurried to ready herself, all while trying to ignore the curious glances from her ladies. Lucky for her, Michael had risen at some point in the night and disappeared without ever being discovered.

  "Are you well, my lady?" Raelyn asked, finally.

  Elena looked at her indifferently, even though she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

  "Quite well. Is ought amiss?"

  Raelyn narrowed her eyes, but knew well her place not to question her further. Elena wanted so dearly to break out into laughter and tell her ladies all about her night, but she knew she could say nothing.

  "Mass has been said, but Father Patrick is still at the chapel if you're wishing to…seek confession?" Raelyn said with a raised brow.

  Sly little chit, trying to coax it out of her.

  "Prayer at my prie dieu will suffice." Elena knelt before her private altar and mumbled her prayers. Afterwards, she absently picked at the bread and cheese her ladies laid out for her to break her fast. She grabbed a chunk of brown bread and stuffed it in her mouth, suddenly ravenous, and then took a hunk of cheese to the window where she stared at the bailey grounds.

  She took bites off the cheese as she watched the men below. Half of them worked on repairs of the battlements, and others on the rest of the damage, none the wiser to what happened to her the night before. None knowing how much she'd changed.

  The other half of the soldiers repaired any damage that was done on the outer wall, the gate and the drawbridge from the battle.

  How could she have forgotten? In her euphoria from the night before, she'd neglected the wounded in the great hall below.

  "How are the wounded?" she asked.

  "We lost one sometime in the night, my lady," Beth offered. "Mercy has returned, giving draughts and changing bandages."

  "She could use my help." Elena stuffed one more bite in her mouth and downed a large gulp of ale. "Come, let us tend to the people."

  On the stairs she paused and turned to her ladies, who nearly bumped into one another in their haste to stop. "What of the earl?"

  "Still asleep," Olivia whispered.

  Elena nodded and headed back down the spiral stairs. Relief flooded her. The last thing she wanted to deal with was her husband. He rose later and later, imbibing in more and more drink. How she hated the man, hated that he'd wed her. If only her father had let her marry Michael as she'd told him she wanted to often enough as a girl.

  They entered the great hall, and immediately she was awash with the scents of blood and sickness. Some of the wounds were becoming infected. Mercy sat in the middle of the room beside a soldier, unwinding a strip of gauze from his puss covered chest wound. Elena cringed, and ordered the servants to bring more boiled water for the healer. She then ordered the used, rancid gauze and linens to be burned. A set of servants were ordered to scrub down the floors with boiling water and lye to keep disease at bay.

  The last thing they needed was for some malady to strike.

  After things were set to rights and the wounded seen to for the time being, Elena went in search of Michael.

  She found him in the lower bailey by the main gate. He was giving instructions to several masons and their apprentices on how he wanted the walls and gate strengthened. He turned to her, his hand gripping her elbow gently as he walked with her away from prying ears.

  "Good morning," he whispered, his eyes catching hers. In that moment she heard what he really wanted to say, saw it in his eyes how much he loved her.

  "Good morning." She tried not to blush.

  "To what do I owe this honor? Are you well? You aren't…sore, are you?"

  "Sore? No." She shook her head. "My body is still singing from last night," she said shyly.

  He smiled with male satisfaction. "Would that we could run away today and I could make you sing all over again."

  Elena smiled, getting lost in his eyes. What a pleasant thought his words brought on. Flashes of his hands and mouth on her body caused her to tremble. She rubbed her arms as tingling bumps rose along their length.

  "Michael, you mustn't speak like that in public. Someone is bound to notice our desire…and assume we have been unseemly together."

  "Aye, desire." His gaze greedily roved over her, sending a flush from her breasts up her neck. "But you are right. We shouldn't draw attention to ourselves. There are several knights within Kent's retinue that would still see me tossed out of here—see that I'm
drawn and quartered. They are looking for any excuse as is Kent. We shan't give it to them."

  Elena shook her head. "No. We will have to be cautious."

  "Aye." Michael looked around as if trying to find those who would cause them harm at that moment. "I long to kiss you though," he muttered.

  "And I you." Elena bit her lip, and when their extended conversation started to draw the stares of more than one passerby, she knew it was time to get to the point of finding him and leave all manners of courting behind. "I came to find out specifically if any more outlaws had been seen? Is there danger of another attack?"

  Michael took out his dirk and knelt to the ground drawing a wide circle. "This is Kent, my lady."

  Her heart ached for Ireland at that moment. How many times had they sat out in the fields like this, with Michael drawing pictures for her in the ground so she might better understand his meaning?

  "The outlaws came from here." He drew some shapes that resembled trees. "Yet those that retreated went here." He pointed to the north.

  "Do you think it was planned that way? To divert your attention?"

  The tip of his dirk came to rest on his chin and he turned it back and forth making her nervous that he might cut himself. He looked deep in thought. Pressing his lips together, Michael shook his head.

  "I feel as though I am being set up. Part of me wonders if Kent didn't hire those men himself to attack the village. He wants me out and I don't know why. I think he expected to have a different man take position here. One like himself. He doesn't like how I've taken the men in hand and the respect that most show me."