Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set

by Jill Elaine Hughes

  This puzzles me. “Seeing his dad at Crown, or fighting his dad at Crown?” I ask.

  “Both.” Pegeen glances at her watch. “Our ten minutes are up. We better get back to work before Brad notices we’re both gone at the same time. You’re walking on thin ice with Brad as it is.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “You know, I’m thinking it might be time to find another job.”

  “Don’t leave me here all alone!” Pegeen protests. “You can only get a new job if I can get one with you. I really don’t know if I could survive all of Brad’s bullshit without you here, Lees.”

  I smile and nod in response as we sneak back onto the inspection floor, but don’t answer her. Much as I love my best friend, I’m starting to think now that we are both in our late twenties, she and I need to start doing fewer things together. After all, how will Pegeen and I ever really grow up if we don’t each have lives of our own? It’s normal and natural for best friends—even best friends as inseparable as Pegeen and I—not to do absolutely everything together. At our age, it probably just isn’t feasible anymore.

  Especially if I’m going to be Queen someday soon.

  Chapter 17

  After work, I’m sitting on the couch at home circling want ads in the Dayton Daily News when my land line rings.

  “Lisa?” It’s Syr Phillip, and he sounds excited.

  “Hi sweetheart,” I purr as my body buzzes with delectable memories of our overnight tryst. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too, Lisa. The whole drive back to Columbus, all I could think of was. . .” Syr Phillip trails off and I hear him suck in his breath through his teeth.

  “What?”

  “I’m kind of still at work. Can’t talk about—you know.”

  “Right,” I reply, giddy with the heat that rises higher and higher in my nether parts with every word that my beloved knight utters. “So, how are things other than, um—you know, our hot sex last night?”

  I can almost hear Syr Phillip’s body getting aroused through the phone line. “Fine,” he breathes. I can tell he’s trying hard not to get too worked up. “I. . .met with. . .my sales director this. . .ahhhhhh, morning.”

  “Are you all right, my sweet lord?” I say, my voice a husky, erotic half-groan. Erogenous zones I never even knew I had are popping up like hives all over my body.

  “Lisa, milady, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice and conversation topics as non-sexy as possible right now,” Syr Phillip whispers into the phone. “I’m sitting in my cubicle about six feet away from the Vice President of Pfizer Midwest Sales Development, and I can’t let him see me get hot under the collar, if you know what I mean.”

  “Okay,” I acquiesce. “I’ll just say a bunch of highly un-sexy words. How’s that?” I pause to think up a few. “Ummmm, how about—soap scum, garbage, tax return, spark plugs, belly-button lint, and Ted Koppel.”

  “That’s much better, Lisa. Now I can actually think about something other than ravishing you. Like Crown Tournament. You haven’t chickened out on me or anything, have you?”

  “Nope. In fact, I’m looking at the want ads as we speak. I think I’ll have to cut AC Delco loose in favor of a new job if you win. My boss isn’t too keen on me taking sick days, let alone extended vacations with my new boyfriend who also happens to be the Great and All-Powerful King of the Middle Kingdom.” I am careful not to mention anything that might remotely refer to Syr Phillip’s father or the Kingdom of Aethelmarc.

  “Take it easy, Lisa. I haven’t won yet.”

  “But you will, won’t you?”

  “I certainly hope I will, milady. But there are no guarantees, especially now that the Tuchux and the Great Dark Horde are supposedly in league with one another to try to keep me from winning.” I notice that Syr Phillip’s voice is a little unsteady.

  “Why is that?” I ask, a bit fearful of pushing Syr Phillip into this topic of conversation.

  “Well, there is the little matter of the fire at Lady Ramona’s house,” he says, agitated. Now I think I understand why Syr Phillip sounded excited when he first called—sounding excited can sometimes be the same as sounding scared.

  “But you didn’t have anything to do with how the fire started,” I say, noticing that my voice has developed a nervous tinge of its own. “Did you?”

  “No, of course not. But the fact that Master Melphus was there and already angry with me for—well, for making out with his most favored lady—“

  “Don’t remind me,” I hiss. The memory of seeing Lady Ramona suck-facing with my newly favored lord and knight still stings.

  “Lisa, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m sorry.”

  “You better be,” I retort, my tone hard and yet sexy and playful at the same time.

  “The very thought of how my uncouth behavior must have hurt you tortures me day and night, milady,” Syr Phillip gushes, the tremor in his voice gone and replaced by the gallant knight’s tone I’ve come to love.

  “Good,” I reply saucily. “You’ll remain in my favor for the time being, then. By the way, have they ever figured out what caused the fire?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure it’s being investigated. But if I have to venture a guess, I think that one of Tuchux may have started it. The Tuchux are a duplicitous bunch. They might be pretending to be allied with the Dark Horde right now, when in fact they are really only acting on their own behalf. Because selfishness, violence, and hurting the innocent are what the Tuchux are all about.”

  Now I’m clueless, as I always am when Syr Phillip starts talking SCA politics. “Who are these Tuchux, anyway? Are you ever going to explain that?” I have no idea what the term ‘Tuchux’ even stands for, other than it sounds vaguely like a breakfast cereal.

  “The Tuchux are kind of an entity among themselves. They technically aren’t even part of the SCA, although they participate in Pennsic every year. Like the Great Dark Horde, they’re mercenaries. They fight the War battles either on the Midrealm side or the East Kingdom side, depending on which king pays them more in bounty.”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay,” I mutter, not really understanding all the complexities of SCA politics and social hierarchy, as per usual. “But what, or who, are these Tuchux?”

  “Well, the Tuchux have been around since sometime in the late sixties, I believe. Most of them live in or around Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania, where the Pennsic War is held every year. The Tuchux are strictly a fantasy group, and unlike the SCA, they have no real interest in historical accuracy or education or anything like that.”

  “Uh huh,” I drawl, not really understanding.

  “The Tuchux are barbarians,” Syr Phillip says through clenched teeth. “They are rude, crude, filthy, and disgusting. They have no chivalry at all. They’re animals, in my opinion. They even wear animal skins as clothing.” I can almost hear Syr Phillip shudder through the phone.

  “So, are these Tuchux like a cult or something? Are they barbarians in real life, too?” I conjure up a mental image of men and women in animal skins chewing on greasy animal bones and grunting. I figure maybe they make their money by hiring themselves out as zoo exhibits or something.

  “Lisa, the strange thing about the Tuchux is, these guys are generally all highly respected members of their everyday communities. Doctors. Lawyers. Corporate CEOs. Engineers. Highly successful businessmen. People who lead very busy, strait-laced, important lives. And for reasons I don’t fully understand, all these doctors, lawyers, CEOs and businessmen decided one day to get together to spend their vacation time wearing animal skins and leather loincloths, rubbing their bodies with bacon grease, getting pitch-drunk, and addressing one another as ‘bitch’ and ‘dog’. I’ve had a few run-ins with the Tuchux at past Wars, and none of them were pleasant, let me tell you. I have to reiterate again—I really can’t stand those filthy Tuchux sons of bitches.”

  “Okay, okay!” I burble, surrendering while simultaneously making a mental note to research the Tuchu
x on the Internet. “So what does all of this have to do with you winning Crown Tournament?”

  “Well, it’s complicated. There may be some last-minute additions to the Lists I might not be prepared for, and I’ll need to be ready for anything. Those Tuchux who bother to get authorized in the SCA style of fighting are really quite good, although I’m not sure if any of them are actually qualified to fight in the Midrealm—like I said, most of the Tuchux live in Pennsylvania. But even without any Tuchux there, I will have to be ready for anything. I’ll need to spend more time at fight practice in the next two weeks than usual, which means I won’t be able to see you very much.”

  “Oh,” I murmur. All the erogenous zones that had been buzzing at full-tilt just moments ago suddenly go cold.

  Syr Phillip detects my disappointment. “I’m sorry, Lisa. But I have to be prepared if I am going to defend your honor at Crown all the way up to the final round.” I hear the slightest hint of self-doubt in Syr Phillip’s voice, and I wonder for a moment how much of what Pegeen told me about Syr Phillip’s father, the King of Aethelmarc, is really true.

  “Lisa, I’m very sorry that I won’t be able to spend much time with you before Crown, but believe me, it’s for the best.”

  I say nothing. I choke on the start of some stinging tears in the back of my throat instead.

  “It will be all right, Lisa.” Syr Phillip’s velvety voice soothes me through ninety-five miles’ worth of Ma Bell cable—although not very much.

  “But—I was really hoping we could, you know, spend some quality time together,” I cry, trying to keep any double entendres out of my tone out of respect for Syr Phillip being at work.

  “Lisa, I promise I’ll make things up to you the night of Crown. In the meantime, though, I’ve got a couple homework assignments for you.”

  I toss aside my Dayton Daily News in frustration. “Like what?”

  “For one thing, be available for Barlonda to do fittings on you whenever she needs to. I want you to be garbed to the hilt at Crown. Everyone’s eyes will be on you, and I want all those eyes to be impressed.” Syr Phillip’s tone has gone from a satiny, soothing baritone to hard-edged and competitive.

  “I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” I reply, eager to please my knight. “Barlonda already has my blue gown’s makeover almost finished, plus—“

  “I don’t want you wearing that one to Crown, nice as it is,” Syr Phillip retorts, his voice now almost a hiss. “I want your garb matching mine, so everyone knows that you’re my lady.” The competitive edge in Syr Phillip’s voice now shifts to one of possession. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was pounding his fists with every word he spoke. That icy possessiveness makes me both a little scared and a little turned on at the same time.

  “Uhh—I’m sure that will be fine, honey. Barlonda can come by in the evenings after I get off work to do fittings. No problem.”

  “Good,” Syr Phillip replies, his voice much calmer and more even now. “There’s another thing I need you to do, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Shire of Winged Hills has planning meetings every Sunday night at the Wright State University campus. These meetings aren’t like an event, where you have to show up in garb and speak forsoothly and all that. They’re strictly for discussing and planning SCA business and upcoming events. They’re also a good way to meet people outside of regular SCA activities. Plus—“

  Syr Phillip trails off and I hear him suck in his breath again, something he seems to do a lot when he’s nervous.

  “Plus what?”

  “Plus, these weekly meetings are a good place to spy on people.”

  “What?” I do a double take against the phone mouthpiece, bruising my chin in the process. “You want me to spy on people?”

  “Well, maybe that’s too strong a term. Find out a few things would be more like it.”

  Now I’m starting to get suspicious. “What kinds of things, exactly? And about whom?”

  “Master Melphus, mostly. He resides in Winged Hills and I want to know what he’s up to. Find out who’s talking to him, or about him. Especially any mention of what’s going on with the house fire investigation. And report that information back to me.”

  “Phillip, I don’t think—“

  “Please, Lisa. I really need you to do this.”

  I stretch out on the sofa, feeling nervous and conflicted. As much as I feel attracted to Syr Phillip, the whole task stinks of the kind of dirty work that is probably unfair to ask of a clueless SCA newbie like me—super-handsome knight’s girlfriend or not. “And if I don’t?”

  Syr Phillip sucks in his breath again. “I can’t force you, of course. But if you really do want to be Queen—“

  “And I do,” I snap.

  “Then you’ll help me with this one, small thing. It’s not a big deal. You’re new to the SCA, after all. People will think it’s perfectly natural for you to ask a lot of questions—even questions that more experienced SCA folk would find tactless and rude are fine coming from an inexperienced person like you.”

  Now my blood is up. “Oh great. So now you think I’m tactless and rude?”

  “Lisa, you’re twisting my words—“

  “Syr Phillip—“

  “Phil. I’m just plain old Phil Dawson right now.”

  “Fine, plain old Phil Dawson, whatever.” To my surprise, I find myself stamping my foot and wagging my finger at the empty space just in front of me. “I’ll have you know that I do not appreciate you putting me up to this little spy assignment of yours one bit. I know that I’m a SCA newbie and I’m pretty much clueless when it comes to everything about the SCA—“

  “And that’s precisely what I love about you, Lisa.”

  My finger freezes mid-wag and my jaw drops, banging itself against the phone with a painful crunch.

  What was that he just said?

  Did the sexiest SCA knight this side of Cleveland just say that he loved something about me? Suddenly, I feel my body turn into a sticky pile of goo.

  “Lisa, are you all right? Because I can’t have my fair lady getting the vapors at such a crucial point in time.”

  “Huh?” is the wittiest retort I can manage.

  “Lisa, I just said that your naiveté as far as all things SCA are concerned is one of the many, many things I love about you.”

  “Huh?” I sputter again. All of my other vocabulary seems to have flown out the window. Why do I always clam up when hot, handsome men say they love things about me?

  “Okay, Lisa, if you’re going to give me the silent treatment, I’ll just hang up.”

  “No, no!” I finally manage to say. “Wait! It’s just that—it’s just that you never said you, ahhhh, loved anything about me before.”

  “I love and adore many things about you, Lisa.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, most of them are a little difficult for me to discuss with the Vice President of Pfizer Midwest Sales Development sitting just a few cubes away, darling.”

  Darling! He called me darling! My body is now making the transition from a sticky pile of goo into a river of very runny, sexy oatmeal.

  “Lisa, I really need to hang up now. The sales director is giving me a dirty look. Pegeen should have all the information on when and where the next Winged Hills meeting is. Just go, see what you can find out about Master Melphus, and call me back with what you find out.”

  “Okay—“

  “And one more thing. I need you to think up a more elaborate SCA name and persona in time for Crown Tournament. Apparently the SCA already has a ‘Lisa of Winged Hills’ on its official roster, so you’ll have to come up with some other variation. Baron Grizzly can probably help you with that.”

  “But—“

  “Lisa, I adore you, but I really must hang up now. I’ll call you later in the week. Goodbye, milady.”

  With that, there is a muted click and the velvet voice of my beloved knight is gone, replaced by dial tone.
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  I stand up and begin to pace the room, rubbing my hands together in an effort to restore them from runny, sexy oatmeal-goo back into solid flesh. Okay, so Syr Phillip—or plain old Phil Dawson, as the case may be—didn’t exactly say he loved me. He said he loved the fact that I am clueless about all things SCA-related. I’m not sure if being clueless and ignorant of how the SCA works is necessarily a good thing. Plus there’s the fact that Syr Phillip wants me to spy on Master Melphus. Shy as I am, I’ve never been much for backstabbing and intrigue. It goes against my earnest, hardworking-Midwestern-orphan nature.

  Then again, Master Melphus is kind of a rude, crude, oafish jerk. He probably deserves to be spied on.

  Syr Phillip also said he adored me. Which isn’t exactly the same thing as saying “I love you.”

  But in a pinch, I’ll take it.

  I pick the phone back up to call Pegeen. I’m sure I’ll be needing her expert gossip advice on my spy assignment. After all, Pegeen knows more about gossip, spying, and creative backstabbing than any woman I know.

  Chapter 18

  “No way am I helping you with this,” Pegeen growls at me when I meet her at Max and Erma’s half an hour later. “No frigging way.”

  “Why the hell not? You love gossip. You love meddling into other people’s business so much, you practically invented it.”

  Pegeen swirls around the straw in her iced tea glass with a perfectly manicured finger. “This is different, Lees. You want to spy on Master Melphus Mattingar the Hun? A Master-at-Arms in the Horde? This is the Great Dark Horde we’re talking about.”

  “So?”

  “They’re called the Great Dark Horde for a reason, Lees. Do you have any idea what happens to people who spy on the Great Dark Horde?”