Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set

by Jill Elaine Hughes

  And once again, Lord Verdigris is our captor.

  We can’t see him, of course. He’s trapped the four of us here together, but has conveniently placed himself where we can’t see him—or beat him up, like we all want to.

  We can hear him, though. Loud and clear.

  “Ah, my Lady Louisa, you are indeed a clever one,” his voice booms at us over an invisible loudspeaker. “Ye used your unmatched lady-softness to open one of my less powerful time portals on your own, ‘tis true. But beautiful and sensual as ye are, ye are still but a mere mortal. Ye are far too young, ignorant and fragile to unlock the true secrets of traveling across the centuries,” he taunts. “And now, ye will be punished. Along with your comrades.”

  And now, more of that annoying, villainous laughter. Much louder this time, too. It echoes back and forth between my ears until my head becomes like the soundtrack of a Scooby-Doo cartoon.

  Jaclyn rolls her eyes. “Well, this was a fine mess you got us into, Lady Louisa.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I thought it would be a lot easier than it ended up being. I didn’t anticipate getting us all trapped somewhere in another dimension.”

  Jaclyn scoffs. “That’s obvious.”

  I throw up my hands and shrug. “Hey, look at the bright side. At least we all got to have some unbelievable sex.”

  Jaclyn isn’t pleased. “I could have had unbelievable sex back in the Hall of Harlots,” she hisses. “Now I’m trapped with you in celibate hell for all eternity. Thanks a lot.”

  And Jaclyn is right. We are all trapped in celibate hell for all eternity. Because somehow, when Lord Verdigris was tossing us all around like marbles in that time vortex, he had all of us outfitted with chastity belts.

  Iron chastity belts. Iron chastity belts locked shut with magic locks, no less.

  We are so screwed. And not literally, either. Figuratively.

  Goddamn it.

  I look to Pembroke for support. I try to reach out and touch his hand—but of course, I can’t, because I’m not only wearing a chastity belt, I’m locked inside some kind of magical force-field that prevents me from touching any of my cellmates.

  Lord Verdigris thinks of everything.

  I guess that’s why he’s an evil, immortal, kidnapping, time-traveling bastard, and I’m not.

  Shit.

  Pembroke tries to grab my hand too, but the damn force field keeps getting in the way. Every time we try to reach for each other, we get hit with something that resembles a cross between an electric shock and those lightning bolts that come out of Emperor Palpatine’s fingers in Star Wars.

  So it kind of goes without saying that Pembroke and I won’t be having sex any time in the near future.

  “Pray, good friends, restrain yourselves,” Trenton says. “Your passion for one another is poison in this cursed place. I only wish my poor dead Beloved were still alive. For she was strong in the magical arts, and could have reversed the spell.”

  Jaclyn rolls her eyes again. “If your poor dead Beloved was so good at magic, then why’d she end up dead?”

  Trenton sighs. “Magic is not infallible, my lady. Even the immortal have weaknesses that may be exploited.”

  I’m astonished at this. “Trenton, was your girlfriend immortal?”

  Trenton’s eyes brim with tears, and he sighs wistfully. “Indeed she was, my lady.”

  Okay, so now I’m puzzled. “If she was immortal, then why’d she die?”

  “Yes, please do explain, Sir Rose Knight,” Pembroke adds. “I have always been curious about Lord Verdigris’ immortality especially.”

  Trenton wriggles inside his chastity belt and struggles against his force field for a moment, obviously just as uncomfortable as the rest of us—if not more so at the thought of his lost Beloved. Finally, he speaks. “The gift of immortality comes at a price,” he says. “For it does not mean complete immortality. ‘Tis only the gift of eternal youth. We immortals may not age, but alas, we may be murdered. With the right weapon.”

  My eyes fly wide. “Wait a minute—you are immortal too?”

  Trenton nods. “Aye, my lady. And Lord Verdigris and I have been immortal enemies for centuries.”

  Pembroke frowns. “You’re both immortals, then. And tell me, good sir—are you both members of the Eastern order of das vampyr as well? Nosferatu? Bloodsuckers who fly by night?”

  Trenton laughs. “Oh good my lord, no indeed. There are other species of immortal besides the dark lords of the Eastern forests. Not all of us immortals fly by night and feed upon blood. We stay eternally young through light magic. But like the young, we may still die by violence, alas, as my Beloved did.”

  Jaclyn perks up a bit at this news. “Were you always immortal, my lord Rose Knight? Or did you become so?”

  “I became so when I joined in connubial bliss with my dearly departed beloved.” His eyes twinkle. “And ladies, I’m afraid that anyone who joins in connubial bliss with an immortal becomes immortal themselves, as the light and power of magic infuses both bodies at the point of ecstasy. So, my ladies, my oath of fealty and chivalry bounds me to report that both of thee beautiful ladies are now among the living immortal. Ye shall never grow old, and never die, unless ye come upon one who knows the secret of magical violence, as Lord Verdigris does.”

  My jaw drops. So does Jaclyn’s. “Wow. I guess I really am stuck in a chastity belt for all eternity, then. Since I’ll never die.” And I’ll never grow old, either, which just means I’ll be a horny thirty-year-old in a chastity belt forever.

  Great.

  Lord Verdigris must be reading my thoughts from some unseen vantage point, because I hear more of that cartoonish laughter. “Alas, Madam Jasphet and Lady Louisa are not worthy of immortal privileges,” he booms on his unseen loudspeaker. “All the more reason for ye to be imprisoned in the vortex forever.” He laughs that ridiculous laugh again, but it’s not quite so sinister this time. In fact, Lord Verdigris even sounds a little nervous.

  I motion for everyone to gather round closer. “Wait a minute, you guys,” I whisper, hoping the spying Lord Verdigris won’t be able to hear me. “Is it me, or do you get the feeling that Lord Verdigris didn’t know that Jaclyn and I are immortal now?”

  Everybody nods. But I’m still at a loss. “But Trenton, if what you said about having sex with the immortal is true, wouldn’t the entire Hall of Harlots be immortal too, since we’ve all slept with Lord Verdigris?”

  Trenton shakes his head. “Alas, no. For Lord Verdigris is an immortal of dark magic, not light. He draws his magic power from the ladies he beds, rather than bestowing that magic upon them. The dark arts, they are selfish,” he says. “And jealous. For ‘twas jealousy that he used to help vanquish my Beloved.”

  I pull my comrades in even closer, almost to the point our force fields start throwing sparks. “Look, there’s got to be some way that the three of us immortals can pool our powers to get us out of here. But how?”

  Pembroke turns to Trenton. “My lord Rose Knight, you said that even immortals have weaknesses that may be exploited. I have been Lord Verdigris’ bondservant for many years now, and I have observed traits in the man over these many years that point to his weakness. In my day, Napoleon seemed insurmountable, but we soon learned he had a weakness for women and was easily insulted on his short stature. Lord Verdigris has a weakness for powerful women, this we know already, even if he knows how to use his magic against them.” Pembroke rubs his hands together, excited. “But if there is anything the man cannot resist, even more than a beautiful, powerful woman, it is a wager. Like my rakish older brother Robert, Lord Verdigris is an incorrigible gambler. Especially when he thinks he cannot lose, which I’m afraid is most of the time.”

  A slow smile spreads across my face. “So all we have to do is come up with an idea for a bet that Lord Verdgris thinks he can’t lose, but we know he can?”

  Pembroke smiles back. “Precisely, madam.”

  Well, that seems easy enough. “I think I have
an idea.”

  Chapter 16

  I’ve just finished whispering the details of my plan to my fellow prisoners. And they aren’t that enthusiastic.

  “Let me get this straight,” Jaclyn whispers. “You’re going to convince Lord Verdigris to transport all of us back to New Jersey so you can fight a duel with him there? And bet him that if he loses, we get to stay in New Jersey? But if he wins, he gets to kill us all, even the immortals? Why don’t we all just hang ourselves with magic nooses now?”

  I hold up my hand. “Keep your voice down, Jaclyn. You don’t want him to overhear. Just let me explain things in a little more detail.”

  “Yes, please do, madam,” Pembroke whispers. “For even though you are my heart’s most beloved, I must confess I am having a spot of trouble with your plan as well.”

  “I plan to offer Lord Verdigris the opportunity to fight a duel with me on my home turf of New Jersey. The only catch is, I get to choose the venue, the rules, and the weapon. And trust me, nobody knows more about how to survive the tough streets of New Jersey better than me. I think everything’ll work out fine.”

  Jaclyn arches an eyebrow. “You’ll choose the venue? And the weapon? What makes you think Lord Verdigris’ll go for it?”

  “Oh, I have my ways,” I snicker. “Just leave everything to me.”

  I break up our huddle, clap my hands, and begin shouting out into the mists. “Hey! Lord Verdigris! HEY! Are you listening? ‘Cause I got a proposal for ya!”

  Silence.

  “HEY! I know you’re out there, somewhere! And I’ve got a BET for you. A BET you’re sure to win! C’mon! I know you love to gamble!”

  Silence.

  “You can’t lose!”

  The cartoonish laughter once again fills our cell. “My lady Louisa, there is no such thing as a wager that cannot be lost,” he says, feigning indifference. But I can tell that he’s still just a little bit interested.

  “Okay, fair enough,” I offer. “Let’s just say it’s a wager that would be very difficult for you to lose. Difficult, but not impossible.” How about that?”

  “Go on.”

  “All right. You agree to transport all of us to my hometown of Trenton, New Jersey so you and I can fight a duel. A duel with rules and weapons of my choosing. If you win the duel, you get to use whatever means you want to kill all of us. But if you lose, me and all my friends get to stay in New Jersey, and you also give me the secret of opening and controlling the master portal. And you also agree to free Bridget and let her live with me in New Jersey.”

  There’s more silence while Lord Verdigris thinks it over. After almost a full minute, he speaks. “What happens in the event of a tie?”

  A tie? Well, I guess that’s something I hadn’t thought about. I ponder this a moment, then come up with something I think is pretty reasonable. “Well, in the event of a tie, you get to challenge The Rose Knight in a jousting match at Medieval Worlds, the place where I first met you. Winner takes all. How about that?”

  “Very well then, Lady Louisa. I agree to your wager. And I shall look forward to winning it and killing you all.”

  More of that annoying cartoonish laughter. And all at once, the vortex begins to spin, spin, spin, faster and faster, until we’re all spat out one by one onto the pavement on Kingsbury Street in Trenton’s South Ward. There’s a rundown pizzeria on one side, and a gun shop on the other.

  Perfect.

  Pembroke and Trenton look around, utterly mystified. Jaclyn just looks scared. (The rough-looking neighborhood punks watching us from their hangout on the corner probably aren’t making her feel very safe.)

  “Madam, pray, what is this strange and exotic place?” Pembroke asks.

  “This is Trenton, New Jersey,” I say. “This is my home.”

  Chapter 17

  Lord Verdigris appears out of thin air on the pavement beside us. To my surprise, instead of his usual elegant knight’s clothing, he’s dressed in urban-homeboy clothes circa 2009—a Fubu shirt and matching baseball cap (turned backwards, of course), unlaced Converse hi-tops, baggy jeans pulled way down his ass, and a huge fourteen-carat-gold dollar-sign necklace. Obviously, Lord Verdigris studied up on early 21st-century urban culture before dropping by. He blends right in with the rest of the Trenton, New Jersey riffraff.

  Unlike the rest of us, who are all dressed in our Hall of Harlots clothes. The gangbangers on the corner are closing in, probably casing us out as easy mugging targets.

  Lord Verdigris gets up from the pavement, dusts himself off, and looks at me expectantly. “Well, I am here, Lady Louisa, as promised. Now if you will please proceed with this absurd duel of yours so that I may kill you and your friends.”

  “All right,” I say, standing up and dusting off my Vampira gown—which wouldn’t play well on the streets of Trenton even on its best day, let alone now when it’s been torn literally to shreds by all that swirling around in the goddamn time vortex. “Let’s get this party started.” I turn to the group of gangbangers who’ve just closed in on us before they can have a chance to pull their guns. “Hey, homeboys,” I say, and flash the Gangsta Disciples sign at them. (My next-door-neighbor back in my apartment building is an undercover cop; he taught me all the local gang signs to use in case I ever got into a jam on the street). The Disciples return the sign and grin. “What da fuck is up wid yo outfit, ho?” one of them asks. “You an yo peeps is dressed weird. An’ how’d y’all just fly down outa da sky like dat? Dat shit is fucked up!”

  “We ummm, just parachuted down from a costume party,” I try to explain. “On Donald Trump’s private plane. Yeah. We umm, we work for Donald Trump and he sent us all down here to scope out some property for his next riverfront casino. He wants to build a new Trump Tower in Downtown Trenton.”

  A boldface lie, of course. Donald Trump would probably eat Rosie O’Donnell’s pussy with a side of coleslaw before he would come within even five miles of Trenton, but these gangbangers don’t look smart enough to know any better.

  “Awright, cool,” the gangbangers’ leader says, adjusting his low-hanging ghetto jeans. “Dat’s what we need round here. Some goddamn video poker.” He pushes up the sleeves of his New Jersey Nets satin team jacket and cuts his eyes at Lord Verdigris, who is growing increasingly impatient. “So what else y’all doin’ here, huh? You look like y’all got some other bidness ‘sides real estate.”

  “As a matter of fact we are,” I say. “My friend over here”—I point at Lord Verdigris—“is from Philadelphia, and he and I have a bet to settle before we scope out any property for Mr. Trump. And I’ve decided that we’ll settle the bet with a game of Yo’ Mama. Winner takes all. I need some street-smart guys to judge the game. Y’all up for that?”

  The gangbangers laugh, slap hands, and nod. “Hell yeah,” says their leader. “We always got time for a game o’ Yo’ Mama. Which one o’ y’all gonna start?”

  “I will,” I say. “Once I’ve explained the rules of the game to my friends here. See, they don’t play Yo Mama back where they’re from, so they need to know a little about what it is.”

  Lord Verdigris holds up his hand. “I require no explanation, Lady Louisa. We play a version of this game in my own time. ‘The game, ‘tis as ancient as the Romans.”

  The gangbangers stare at him. “Damn, dat dude talk funny,” one of them says. “He don’t sound like he from no Philly, neither” another says.

  “He’s from South Philly,” I explain. “The Irish part.”

  They seem to accept that. “Well for the rest of you, the rules of the game are, Lord Verdigris and I will trade insults about our mothers until the judges here declare a winner. And if there’s a tie, we’ll have to go to Medieval Worlds’ to settle the bet.”

  “Aw, y’all goin’ to dat knights-an-horses joint?” the lead gangbanger asks. “I went there once on a field trip. Dang place smells like horse shit.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, it does. Now let’s get started, shall we? Lord Verdigris, your mam
a is so fat, she’s got her own kingdom.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Verily, ye say so? Well, Lady Louisa, your mother is so fat, she fell in love—and broketh it.”

  Everybody laughs. “I think I played a version of this in the nursery with the servants’ children back at Elysia,” Pembroke says.

  “That’s nice, Pembroke,” I reply. “But please shut up until we’re finished. You’re messing up my rhythm.” And I didn’t expect Lord Verdigris to actually be good at this game, either—but as usual, he’s full of surprises. “Lord Verdigris, your mama is so fat, she sweats lard.”

  “Lady Louisa, your mother is so ugly, she makes blind children cry.”

  “Oh yeah? Your mother is so ugly, when she looks in the mirror, it breaks.”

  “Your mother is so ugly, Lady Louisa, that the tide won’t come back in.”

  “Well, your mama is so ugly that Medusa is jealous.”

  “Your mother is so ugly, her pillow weeps all night long.”

  “Your mama is so fat, her tailor has to take measurements in centuries.”

  “Your mother is so fat, her gown is used to house a garrison of soldiers.”

  “Your mama is so stupid, she tried to drown a fish.”

  “Your mother is so old, when I told her to act her age, she died.”

  By now we’ve both run out of insults. Lord Verdigris and I just fold our arms across our chests and give each other the staredown from hell.

  Jaclyn turns to the gangbangers. “So, judges. Who won?”

  The gangbangers huddle for a conference. After a minute or two of discussion, they throw up their hands. “Dude, I dunno who won,” one of them says. “They wuz both pretty good.”

  The lead gangbanger agrees. “Looks like a tie to me.”

  Lord Verdigris smiles, rubs his hands together like a slumlord. “Then let the jousting begin!”

  He snaps his fingers, and we’re all caught up in the time vortex yet again—but only for a moment. When we come back down to earth, I find myself back at the Medieval Worlds arena, at the exact same moment I headed off for the men’s room and got myself into this whole mess in the first place. But instead of sitting on a haybale narrowly missing flying rump roasts, I’m backstage, in the stables-slash-dressing-room-slash-employee-break-room.