by Evie North
A KNIGHT OF TEMPTATION by EVIE NORTH
(KNIGHTS OF PASSION)
There were five of them, boys, whom Stephen the would-be-king had gathered together for safety. Their fathers were his strongest supporters, lords and barons who had been killed in the battle for the throne between Stephen and his cousin Matilda. He placed them in an orphanage connected to a monastery and there he trained them to grow into knightly warriors. The tattoo upon their arms proclaimed their allegiance to the king and each other, and their determination to win back their destiny.
1
Copyright © Evie North, 2013.
All rights reserved
KINDLE EDITION
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1
11 50 AD, the north of England
Melina avoided the eyes of her bodyguard. It was something she was becoming adept at, since her father had brought him into the household and given him the task of keeping watch over her all day, every day, and sleeping across the threshold to her chamber every night. But it was no use. Even with her head turned she could feel his dark eyes upon her.
Deep dark pools that drew her into their depths, making her skin burn and her heart flutter. The one and only time she’d made the mistake of gazing into those eyes she’d paid the price, losing her wits entirely for several heartbeats. The man was handsome in a rugged way, his body hard and strong like a warrior’s should be, but it was more than that.
There was something . . . Was it the look of him, the scent of him, the taste of him? Not that she’d touched his skin with her tongue yet, but she’d thought about it. At night, in her chamber, in her luxurious bed with its furs and curtains, all alone with him outside her door.
Oh yes, Melina had the makings of a sensual woman and that was the trouble.
Because she was promised to old Lord Saunders, her father’s ally in this bitter civil war between the cousins Stephen and Matilda, a war which had been raging now for over fifteen years and had torn England apart. Lord Saunders would help her father to hold onto his lands against Stephen’s army—lands he had taken by force at the beginning of the war—and marriage to Melina would consolidate their military union. The one thing Lord Saunders had insisted upon was that she be a virgin when she came to their bed that first time. Evidently his previous wife had lain with another man first and his heir did not resemble him at all. His lordship did not want such a thing to occur again, and he was insistent upon her maidenhead being intact. And so the bodyguard had come to keep watch on her.
The bodyguard she dreamed of holding in her arms, naked.
“Lady Melina?”
The bodyguard’s voice was deep, the timbre of it brushing against her senses. Melina did not respond, humming to herself as if she was completely unaware of him standing so big at her back in the walled garden. She felt the heat of him like a blazing fire, she smelled the spicy scent of his skin. The ache between her legs grew more urgent, as it often was at night now, when she thought of him lying upon her threshold. Some nights the ache was so urgent that she had even taken the shameful step of touching herself to ease it.
“Lady Melina.”
His hand closed upon her arm.
He wasn’t allowed to touch.
Startled, Melina spun about, a frown furrowing her brow. His head was lowered from his greater height down to hers, but even so he was over a foot taller than she. She didn’t make the mistake of meeting his eyes, not this time, directing a cold stare beyond him instead.
“How dare you lay your hand on me, Grendell!”
To her surprise his hand wasn’t withdrawn. In fact he tightened his grip and moved closer, so close that his body brushed against hers. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she felt her breasts begin to ache and tighten. Oh no, no! This was not good. She must escape him now, at once, before her body betrayed her completely and something happened that must not happen.
“Lady Melina.”
She attempted to shrug his hand off, and when that didn’t work she began to prise at it with her fingers. But still he would not relinquish her. His grip was iron, but gentle; he was not hurting her, just holding her.
“Let me go,” she hissed.
Was he smiling? Melina could see the curve of his sensual mouth, and before she could stop herself she looked up into his dark eyes. No, no, no! But it was too late and already she was sinking into the midnight pools, feeling her heart begin its heavy pounding.
Pleasurable sensations rippled through her—it was as if her body was no longer her own to command—and she struggled to maintain control. And then his mouth was on hers. Hot and hard.
She was too shocked to move. A blast of heat scolded her as if she stood in the doorway to hell. But why was hell so pleasurable? Why was she feeling as if being here, in his powerful arms, was exactly where she should be?
Her own weakness frightened her and suddenly she was struggling in earnest.
His mouth slanted over hers, his lips moving in a constant mesmerising caress. Melina twisted against him, desperately seeking escape. Not because she was afraid, it wasn’t that, but because she was weakening rapidly in her resolve not to join in.
His kisses, the press of his body to hers, was eating away at her determination. From the moment he’d been introduced to her by her father, she’d wanted him. Wanted him in a way so sensual, so carnal, it made her burn with need and shame.
A lady of her rank did not desire a lowly bodyguard! And yet it seemed that this lady did.
“Melina,” his husky voice was a groan. “So beautiful . . .”
In a moment she’d be lying spread beneath him.
Her panicked elbow found his solar plexus and he huffed out a breath. Melina took advantage of the slackening of his arms to wriggle free, and then backed away a yard or two. Rumpled, her fair hair coming down, her blue eyes flashing. This was better. She felt back in control now, and suddenly she was angry.
“A bodyguard does not dare to touch a lady,” she said in a low voice. “My father will arrest you and have you thrashed for this.”
He stared at her a moment, absently rubbing the spot where her elbow had struck him, and there was no fear or remorse in his face whatsoever. In fact there was a glint to his eyes that told her he’d enjoyed their tussle and a smirk to his lips that suggested he might be about to do it again.
She mightn’t escape the next time.
She might not want to.
With a soft cry Melina spun around and ran through the garden, her skirts fluttering about her, and her long fair hair tumbling from its braids. Her gaze was fixed on the castle door that led to safety from the urgent sensations rampaging through her body, from the man watching her go, and from the knowledge that beat in her temples like a drum that she must go to Lord Saunders a virgin or the alliance with her father would be voided.
In the airless garden a blackbird began to sing, the sound sweet and pure, and suddenly tears were stinging Melina’s eyes. She was in a snare. Even while her lips were burning from Grendell’s kisses and her body was aching for his touch, she knew he was forbidden to her. Her destiny was already written.
Life was unfair. She’d seen the way the serving girls looked at Grendell. If she were a lowly maid she could have
had him in her arms by now. In her bed. She could love whomever she wished and it would not matter.
Once, last year, she had come upon one of the maids and a groom, lying entangled in a stall of the stables, their bodies joined and arching in intense pleasure as they rutted. The image had stayed with her, and now it returned in vivid detail, except the man with thrusting buttocks was Grendell and the woman beneath him, moaning in her pleasure, was Melina.
“Melina!” Her father’s shout as she ran into the castle made her jump guiltily. He was coming toward her, the beamed ceiling of the great hall rising high above him, the walls crowded with sharp and nasty looking weapons and wild animal heads. Her father appeared worried, as he often did these days, and when Melina moved to curtsey he caught her arm and hurried her toward the curling stone stairs that led to the upper chambers of the castle.
“Lord Saunders has been seen on the road. He’ll be here before nightfall. Go and change into your best gown, and braid your hair,” he added with a frown. “You look unkempt, girl. Do not give him a distaste for you. We need this union if we are to hold on to our home.”
“Father, I . . .”
“What is it, girl?” he cut her short. The worry was drawing lines on his face and shadows in his eyes. This land was not his, had never been his. He had taken it by force when Melina was a child, and now he had to make alliances with men like Lord Saunders to hold it. He had to use his own daughter as part of the bargain to hold on to his ill-gotten gains.
“Nothing, father.”
He wasn’t listening anyway.
Melina could have caught his attention; she could have made him listen. What if she told him what Grendell had done in the garden? Instead she fell silent, merely hurrying to do his bidding. She told herself she would just have to make sure she did not get too close to Grendell again, not until she was safely wed to Lord Saunders.
And then a sneaky little thought jumped into her mind:
What if you were marrying Grendell instead? What if it was Grendell who would lie next to you in your marriage bed instead of Lord Saunders?
Of course she dismissed that immediately, relegating it to the depths of her soul, where she kept all the dreams and wishes she’d grown out of once she became a woman. Such things were not possible in the real world and she’d best get used to being bedded by Lord Saunders because that was where her future lay.
***
Melina bathed in the rose petal scented water brought up to her chamber by her servants. The warmth soothed her and once she was wrapped in her robe, she lay down a moment upon her bed.
She didn’t mean to fall asleep, but she’d been up since before dawn seeing to the household preparations for Lord Saunders’ arrival, and the feasting that was to take place that night.
In the warmth of her bed, with her body relaxed, pleasurable dreams began to trickle into her head.
Grendell was looming over her, naked. She’d seen naked men—as lady of the castle it was her job to bathe her father’s important cronies and guests, although she only soaped their backs before the maid took over. It was a courtesy and as a young unmarried woman she was not expected to fully comply.
Now, as Grendell smiled down at her, she saw how young and strong and handsome he was. He ran his hand along her body, pushing impatiently at her robe. His roughened palm lay heavy upon her thigh, and then slid toward her hip. His own thigh, thick with muscle and rough with manly hairs, pressed between hers. His smiling mouth came down upon her half naked breast, tongue twirling about her peaked nipple.
Melina cried out and awoke.
The next moment she was sitting up, blinking, at the sound of the door banging open and there, filling the doorway, was her bodyguard. He looked fiercesome, ready to protect her against all dangers, but when he saw it was only a sleepy-eyed girl, confusion filled his face.
“Melina?”
Her fair hair spilled over her shoulders, her robe revealing more of her naked body than it was covering. Dark eyes jerked to hers, holding her gaze for long moments, and then he reached behind him and closed the door. Quietly.
Melina realised her breathing had quickened. She knew she should tell him to go, but her throat seemed to have thickened and closed over, and she couldn’t utter a single word. He reached down and dragged his tunic up over his head and his naked chest gleamed in the soft light of the dying fire. Her dazed eyes noted strange markings upon his upper arm, a tattoo like a Celtic cross. And then a heartbeat later he was climbing onto the bed beside her.
Like her dream come true, he reached out and covered her plump breast with his palm. The sensation melted her and Melina made a little sound in her throat. His lips quirked and he smoothed his hand over her satin skin, before reaching to tweak the tight nipple with his finger and thumb.
“Why . . . ?” she began breathlessly, and couldn’t go on.
“I thought I heard you cry out,” he growled, and then bending his head began to suckle on her breast.
Her hips jerked up from the bed and she would have cried out, but his mouth quickly moved to hers and muffled her shriek.
“You came to save me,” she whispered, when she could speak again.
He quirked a brow at her. “I am your bodyguard, lady. My life is yours and I would stand before you and any danger.”
Her arms slid about his neck and she drew herself close to his face, her lips finding his. He reached behind her, planting his big hands on her buttocks and drawing her closer still, until her bare flesh was pressed to his breeches. He was swollen and hard against her, and suddenly the ache between her thighs was so powerful she needed to assuage it.
Melina rubbed her body against his like a cat. She slipped one leg from beneath him, hooking it over his narrow waist so that the bulge between his thighs was just where she wanted it. She remembered the maid and the groom, the way he had pushed against her so rhythmically and her gasps and moans of ecstasy.
Was this the way it was done?
“Oh Grendell,” she gasped, as the pressure of his body against her ache began to grow in waves of pleasure.
He was helping. Reaching down to stroke her pussy with his long, gentle fingers, adding to her hot slickness. Her moans were growing loader as she writhed against him, kissing his face blindly, her tongue tasting him just as she’d dreamed of night after night.
And then it happened, a wondrous rush of sensation that caught her up and held her fast for ever so long. When she returned to herself he was caressing her face, watching her with an expression in his eyes that was hot and tender all at once, an expression she had not seen there before. Then in a moment it was gone, replaced by his usual smirk.
“I have pleased you, lady?”
Melina swallowed, nodded, not trusting her voice. She reached up to touch the tattoo on his bicep. “This is pretty.”
He chuckled. “Pretty? Lady, this is the mark of a warrior. When I was in the
orphanage . . .”
“You were an orphan, Grendell?” Her heart ached for him.
He seemed not to want to answer her, but then he shrugged and said, “I was, but in the orphanage I made friends. Now there are five of us and although we are not related through blood, we all have the same desire to unite England once more.”
“Unite England? Only Matilda can do that, Grendell, as you well know. Only Matilda and Lord Saunders can help my father keep his lands.”
“His lands?” Grendell mocked, as if he knew better.
Melina tried to read his expression. There was anger and pain, but then he shook his head. “It matters not,” he whispered. “This is what matters.”
Slowly he bent his head and began to lathe his tongue over her breasts, one at a time, drawing the peaks into his mouth to suck and tease them. And to Melina’s amazement the pleasure began to bubble away again, the ache returning, just as if she had never satisfied it.
Would it always to be like this? Would she crave him over and over again with an insatiable hunger?
Frustrated she tried to push him away but when he rolled from her, the first thing she did was climb atop him, thighs straddling his breeches. He lay on his back, watching her with narrowed eyes, his face set in a rigid mask as if he didn’t dare to let his emotions rule. That made her all the more frustrated because Melina’s emotions were very much ruling her.
She put her hands over the massive bulge in his breeches and saw the flicker in his eyes. Was his mouth a little tighter? Were his hands clenched with the need to keep control? Melina knew all about losing control, and suddenly she wanted to have him in her power.
Smiling she began to unfasten the laces, tugging roughly at them in her eagerness to conquer him. The garment opened and his rigid cock sprang out, rearing up toward his belly as if it had a life of its own. Melina’s eyes widened, and then she reached to grasp him, exploring his flesh with wonder.
“But how . . . ?” she gasped.
His hands were clutching the bed linen now, his eyes darkened with passion. His voice was breathless. “Have you never seen the animals mating, lady? The stallion and mare?”
Melina shook her head. “I saw a maid and a groom once.” She flushed. “I did not see exactly what they were doing.”
He gave a short laugh. “And you want to know?”
She nodded vigorously. The ache was intense and she went to rise up on her knees, so that she could press his cock against the apex of her thighs and use him as she had a moment ago. But he groaned and caught her about the waist, stopping her so that she was suspended above him, so close and yet unable to move.
“Grendell,” she wailed, writhing. Her body was weeping with her desire, the muscles in her thighs trembling. She felt the head of his cock brush against her and he gave a low groan. “I want you. I-I am in desperate need of you.”
But grimly he held on to her. He even shook his head.
“No, lady. What you ask of me is impossible.”
“You are a servant and I order you!”
She twisted and managed to free herself, falling across his naked chest, her hair in his face. For a moment he was still, as if his control hung in the balance, and then he caught her up and rolled her in the linen, tightly, so she was a prisoner of her own bed.
