A Knight of Honor

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Taylor swiveled her head to see Slane moving his horse over the lowered drawbridge and heading into the open gates of the castle. She turned back to the man, swinging her leg over her horse to dismount. She approached him, squinting. There was something about him. Something familiar.

  The man groaned again, tossing his head. The damp strands of his hair clung to the blood on his face. There were slashes all over his body; his skin was dirtied with ash and soot. He had been tortured, she was sure. But by whom?

  Suddenly, the man fell to the ground. He landed hard and fell forward onto his stomach. Taylor glanced up to see Slane looking down at her from atop the castle wall. He grimaced and turned away. Taylor shifted her gaze back to the fallen man and approached him. He was badly beaten and there was no telling how long he had hung there.

  Taylor bent and grabbed his arm, pulling the man over onto his back. She froze, staring at the face. Even battered and bruised she knew that face. Her insides swirled in agony and contempt. Finally, she stepped away from him, her face a mask of loathing.

  “Who is he?” Slane wondered, emerging from the castle.

  “My father,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Slane bent beside the fallen man, putting his ear to his chest. The faintest tremor of a heartbeat drummed against his ear. Slane lifted his head and placed a hand near the man’s lips. Faint whisperings of air hit his hand at regular intervals. He lowered his hand and shifted his gaze to the man’s closed eyes. “Lord Sullivan?” he called.

  The man groaned and his eyes slowly worked themselves open to the merest slits of life.

  “Who did this?” Slane demanded.

  Lord Sullivan opened his mouth, but no sound issued forth.

  Slane turned to Taylor. The night’s wind gently lifted the wispy curls of her hair and placed them back over her shoulders delicately. Otherwise, she had not moved. She stood like a granite statue, watching through cold eyes. “He’s dying,” Slane hissed, furious with her inactivity.

  But even with his admission, she didn’t move to her father’s side, didn’t kneel with tenderness and weep. “He’s your father,” Slane reminded her, shocked at her coldness.

  “Taylor?”

  Lord Sullivan’s broken voice turned Slane’s attention back to the man. His eyes had widened to pools of deep brown. His gaze moved past Slane to lock on Taylor with a renewed vigor, a wish granted. But the joy and happiness Slane saw for a brief moment on the old man’s face faded.

  Slane turned back to Taylor. She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even batted an eye. God’s blood! Slane thought. What is wrong with her? He stood and moved to her. “He’s your father!” Slane whispered harshly. “Go to him.”

  But she didn’t move. She never turned to look at Slane; she only glared at her father with such condemnation that Slane was taken aback.

  “Taylor,” her father pleaded. “I’ve finally found you.” He lifted an old, trembling hand to her, his fingers outstretched, grasping for something. “Forgive me, child.”

  Taylor stiffened, her jaw clenching, her eyes narrowing.

  “Forgive me,” he begged.

  Slane waited, as did her father, waited for the words that could heal them. Slane turned to look at her, urging her to forgive. She parted those lips, but the word that came forth was not one of absolution.

  “Never,” she snarled.

  The old man’s hand clenched into a fist and dropped to the ground.

  “Taylor,” Slane exclaimed. “He’s dying. Let him go in peace.”

  “And what of my mother?” Taylor snapped. “Did she die in peace when those flames ate her skin from her body? Did she?”

  Lord Sullivan groaned. As Slane turned to him, his eyes rolled into his head before his body sagged to the earth and he sighed his last breath. Slane knelt by his side, placing a hand near the man’s mouth. But he knew lord Sullivan was dead. He placed a hand on his chest, saying a silent prayer for him. His final request had gone unfulfilled. He had not been given the forgiveness he sought. After so many years, so much pain... Taylor could have let him die with honor, in peace, but she knew nothing of honor, nor of love.

  Slane whirled on her, glaring up at her in disbelief, as if she were some dark goddess deaf to the desperate pleas of her subjects. “He’s your father! And he is dead! Now you will never know his love. Never. Why? Why not forgive a dying man his faults?”

  “Why should I,” she demanded, “after what he did to my mother?”

  “He wanted your forgiveness, Taylor! Now he’s dead.”

  “Good,” she snapped. “He deserved it. He killed my mother with no regret, no remorse. He showed her no mercy. Not even when I asked him for it. He refused to listen to my pleas. And I begged him. I begged him not to hurt her. I begged him not to take her away from me.” Tears rose in her eyes. “He wouldn’t even let me say goodbye to her.”

  Slane saw the shimmering sadness fill her eyes, but he felt such an incredible rage at her insensitivity that he couldn’t stop himself from clenching his fist and taking a threatening step toward her. “He was your father!” Slane roared. “He gave you your life! You’ve cursed him to a horrible death that he can never escape! You could have given him one moment of peace with three damn words! Just three words, Taylor!”

  Taylor did not retreat under his approach. She stood her ground. “Did he forgive my mother?” Taylor hollered back. “He murdered her! He took her life by burning her at the stake! What more horrible death is there? I’ll give him no peace. Let him rot for what he’s done to me. To her!”

  “Listen to you!” Slane cried. “Listen to what you’re saying!”

  But she wasn’t listening. Her voice broke as she tried to speak. “You don’t know what it’s like to have your mother taken away from you! I’ll never forgive him. Never!”

  Slane lowered his voice. “Don’t you see, Taylor? Don’t you see what you just did?” Slane waited to see the ugly realization dawn in her teary eyes. But the realization never came. “You have abandoned your mother forever.” Slane paused. “You’ve chosen to make your father’s rage and hatred your own. You now have his cold heart beating in your chest, not your mother’s.”

  Taylor began to shake her head, to deny his words, but she halted, frozen in disbelief. Her mouth opened in silent denial, but her voice choked on the agony of his revelation. The pain of what she had become overflowed her lids, slipping down her face. She stood, trembling, her entire body shaking with misery.

  Slane opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly Taylor whirled, running to her horse. In one fluid movement, she pulled herself onto her steed’s back and was off, racing away.

  “Taylor!” Slane hurried to his horse and quickly mounted. “Taylor!” he cried out again at her fleeing back, but he knew she would not stop. She was riding like a woman possessed, her hands cracking the reins again and again, her hair flying wildly out behind her. He spurred his horse forward, snapping sharply on the reins, demanding the beast ride as fast as it could go.

  Taylor continued to charge ahead, racing toward a nearby forest, and then vanished into its deep shadows.

  “Taylor, stop!” Slane cried, following her into the thick trees.

  He knew she was an expert rider, but he also knew she was not concentrating, not thinking where she was going. Slane watched her horse leap a fallen tree and felt his own heart leap as she teetered precariously for a long moment before righting herself. He had to catch up with her.

  Slane urged his horse deeper into the thick expanse of trees, dodging fallen trunks, ducking beneath attacking branches. He saw Taylor’s horse stumble and he spurred his horse on. His heart twisted inside of him, knowing the agony she must be experiencing. Knowing that he had inflicted it on her. But she had to see the truth!

  He knew he would have to catch her if he wanted to stop her. Blood pounded in his ears; the wind rushed by him. His horse cleanly leapt another fallen tree and he found himself racing just behind Taylor, bursting into
a small clearing.

  Just then a dark shadow fell over Slane, obscuring the moonlight. He looked up to see a huge wall of trees filling his vision on the opposite side of the clearing, a mass of hard trunks and jagged spiked branches that were impenetrable for a horse.

  “Taylor!” Slane screamed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Slane spurred his horse hard and the animal surged forward. He lunged for Taylor, extending his hand as far as he could. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he yanked her sharply from her horse.

  Taylor pushed backward, struggling against his hold, and toppled both of them from Slane’s horse. They hit the ground hard; she landed on her right side, Slane on his back. He winced at the sudden pain in his back, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived.

  Taylor tried to roll away from Slane. “I don’t think so,” Slane told her and grabbed her wrist, yanking her back to him.

  She pounded on his shoulder, trying desperately to break free of him.

  He forced her legs down with the weight of his body and crawled on top of her, pinning her flailing arms to the ground at her sides with his hands. “Enough!” he roared into her face.

  To his surprise, she stopped struggling, stilling her efforts at escape. He gazed down in wonderment at her broken face, shocked and guilt ridden by the tears covering it in a sheen of sorrow.

  She stared up into his eyes with such misery that it shattered his soul. A broken sob escaped her full lips. He wanted to take all her agony away. He wanted to touch her pain and erase it. He wanted to heal her broken soul. He rubbed his fingertips against her cheeks, tracing her cheekbone, wiping her tears from her skin.

  She parted her lips to inhale a shaky breath and Slane’s gaze was drawn to her mouth. She was so lovely. And so hurt. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to her quivering mouth to comfort her. Only to comfort her.

  But something happened he had not planned on. A jolt rocked him as his body came instantly alive. It was as if he were feeding off her vibrancy, her need... and found the same need within himself. He pulled back to stare into her eyes. They were swollen from crying, but there was also something else, something hidden deep within them. Something that called to him. Something he could not deny.

  A fiery urgency filled his body and he felt himself being swept up in an inferno, into a blazing fire of need that could only be quenched by one thing. Slane bent his head to Taylor’s lips, reclaiming them. He needed her just as much as she needed him. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. And this time, he would not be denied. Her mouth parted and he tasted her fully, exploring the sweet recesses of her mouth, feeding off of her delectable lips. His manhood grew strong beneath his breeches, bulging against the cloth, aching to explore the dark hollow that lay but a few inches beneath it.

  Blood pounded through his mind as his lips swept hers. His consciousness seemed to ebb and then flame brighter than ever. He felt more alive than he had ever felt. He felt every inch of his body pressed intimately against hers, his chest against her breasts, his bulge intimately against her core. His blood surged through his veins, burning like molten lava. He released his hold on her and she immediately put her hands on his arms, refusing to relinquish the moment.

  Instead of pulling back, Slane dipped his hand to cup her breast through her tunic, encircling it with his fingers, massaging it with his thumb. Her flesh was firm and full, filling his hand.

  Taylor gasped and Slane kissed her again, driving his tongue deeper into her mouth, plundering the recesses, exploring every part of her mouth. Her hands moved from his arms to his back, tracing the coiled muscles with light strokes.

  Slane slid his hand across her neck and dipped his fingers beneath her tunic, almost ripping it in his hurry, in his craving, to feel her flesh. When his fingers encircled the delicate, sensitive rise of her breast he felt her arch toward him, gasping for breath. Her knees came up at the sides of his body, her womanly core pressing tight against his manhood. Slane dipped his head to her neck, tasting her skin, wanting her with an urgency he had never felt for anyone else.

  Taylor moved her hips against his. She responded to his caress with a deep groan that inflamed Slane’s already combustible senses. He slid to the side of her body, pressing kisses down her throat to the tip of her tunic. He moved his hand out of her clothing and over her flat stomach, across the planes of her belly, to the bottom of her tunic, which had gathered dangerously close to her womanhood. He moved his hand to the bottom of the cloth, feeling a heat emanating from beneath the fabric of her leggings as his fingers touched the very edge of the tunic. Then he dipped his hand lower. He touched the inside of her thigh, letting one finger roam close enough to her womanhood to feel her shudder. The smell of her raw lust permeated her leggings and he let the sweet aroma fill him, let the intoxicating scent of her possess his senses.

  Slane moved his hand up to the top of her leggings. She placed a trembling hand over his, halting his movement. Confused, he looked into her eyes.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” she whispered in a husky voice.

  His confusion vanished and a dark grin came to his lips. “I know exactly what I’m doing,” he whispered in a silky voice before his hand slipped inside her leggings. He moved his fingers closer to the wetness of her womanhood and touched the soft curls of hair that kept her pearl hidden. Her womanly hair caressed his fingers with whispery, silky softness as he moved through them, easing his way toward the moist petals of her womanhood. He reached the delicate folds and parted them. And then he touched the precious jewel that lay hidden beneath. The sweet sound of her gasping breath, the gentle curve of her arching back, did indeed show that he knew exactly what he was doing.

  Taylor couldn’t have stopped him if she wanted to. But the only thing she wanted was more of him, more of his touch. Shivers of pleasure peppered her skin and passion pounded through her veins as he expertly stroked her to heights of rapture.

  Slane removed his hand from her womanhood and was surprised and gratified to hear a groan of objection. Slowly, he began to undress her, lifting her tunic up over her flat stomach, past her slim rib cage and over her breasts. He bent his head to the mounds, worshiping her flesh with light kisses. He eased the tunic over her head without taking his lips from the peaks of her breasts. His tongue swirled over the rosy tips, across the hardened pebbles of her nipples.

  Taylor gasped, her mind swirling end over end, her world tilting on its axis.

  Slane’s lips returned to claim Taylor’s, buffeting them until she was breathless. His hands skimmed the sides of her body to her waist and tugged down her leggings. His kisses traveled over her throat and down to the valley between her breasts as he pushed the leggings from her body.

  When he had freed her body of her clothing, he gazed down at her with adoration. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Quickly, he yanked his shirt from his torso.

  Taylor watched the unveiling of his glorious body. Like a curtain being swept aside, his tanned chest was revealed, gleaming like bronze in the rising sunlight. Muscles lined his exquisite frame, and more planes of muscle contoured his stomach. She had never seen a more handsome man. When he slid his leggings from his legs, she marveled at the stark power in them.

  He leaned over her, holding himself above her with his hands for a long moment, simply gazing down into her eyes. She reached out to him, running her hands along his arms, his shoulders and into his hair.

  He lowered himself to her, and Taylor inhaled sharply as his chest touched her bare breasts, the peaks tingling with pleasure. Then his body covered her like a warm blanket. She felt something touch her most intimate core and knew what it was. She opened her legs, trying to feel him against her, to be closer to him.

  Slane almost exploded at her invitation. His member lurched forward and found a hot wetness waiting for it. She wanted him as much as he did her. He groaned at the realization. He reached down and touched her core again, openi
ng it. She raised her hips and he eased himself into her.

  He felt her stiffen and stopped, pulling back to gaze at her face. Could it be? he wondered. Could she be a virgin? He kissed her lips with a powerful hunger, one close to starvation, and then trailed hot, wet kisses down her neck. He caressed one of her breasts with teasing feather strokes until she relaxed again.

  He slid the rest of the way into her, penetrating her completely.

  She gasped and thrust gently, tentatively. He answered her plea and began to move. Slowly at first, and then their tempo increased as she matched his moves, thrusting against him. A swirling ecstasy built inside her, until she thought she could take no more. He touched her breasts, kneading, squeezing, and kissed her neck with hot liquid caresses. Her desire rose to peaks of pulse-pounding passion, swirling past the stars to a heaven she had never known existed. Then he kissed her lips with a fierce possessiveness that sent her exploding toward the heavens. Shattering into a million twinkling lights, she lingered in those heavens for a long moment until she fell toward the earth like a shooting star, burning like a fiery inferno. Finally, she lay still beneath him, breathless.

  Slane stared down at her in disbelief. He had thought she was beautiful before, but that was nothing compared to the vibrant creature beneath him. Her cheeks were rosy and bright, her breath now easing from her lips in a sweet rhythm of contentment. She was more than he could have possibly imagined. She was everything he could ever want. And with that one thought, he lunged into her, again and again until his own world erupted in a rapture to rival hers. He stiffened, releasing his seed into her, holding her tightly, binding them body and soul.

  Slowly, reality penetrated his mind. He felt the night’s breeze cooling his heated skin. He heard his horse whinny in the distance. Birds clattered somewhere to his right. But mostly, he could feel Taylor’s breasts crushed to his chest, her flat stomach pressed to his, his manhood sheltered in her warmth. Slowly he withdrew from her, rolling onto his side.