by Wend Petzler
Caressing his sleek chest, she rocked her hips, creating a delicious friction. When Isabella had his complete attention, her hands explored her husband's heavily muscled body. “I wish Alison to be placed as a member of our party, she is a noblewoman.” She lowered her breasts, brushing her erect nipples along his sensitive skin, playing his games. Isabella lifted her head, covering his parted lips with hers, the tip of her tongue ran along his lower lip before whispering, “She needs our protection."
He tried to concentrate on her words until Isabella shifted her body lower, her mouth nibbling at his neck, her tongue tracing a lazy pattern along his collarbone. When her hot, wet mouth found his nipple, he broke out in a sweat as her sharp teeth scraped and teased the hardening bud. Her strong hands held his arms pinned as her mouth worked down his muscled stomach. Isabella's tongue dipped in his navel, tracing the dark trail of curling, black hair downward. Her supple body slid erotically down his and when Isabella's wet mouth was near his hard shaft, her eyes met his. Holding his breath, he wildly wondering what she would do next.
"I believe Alden is her lover.” Her tongue ran along the long, thick length of his pulsing staff as she sought to distract him.
Cold shock hit him, bringing him out of the sexual fog he was enjoying. “Alden?” Nicolas dragged her upward. “You wish me to place his woman in my protection?” he growled, effortlessly tossing Isabella on her back, pinning her lithe body beneath him.
"I know Alden is responsible for whipping you, don't deny it!” Nicolas raged at her. “I will kill the man for hurting you. There is no way in hell I'm protecting his whore,” he shouted, furious Isabella dared suggest such a thing to him.
"She has bore him a son. The boy is currently at Blood Keep in Gabriel's care,” Isabella whispered as she parted her legs, sliding up his, the crisp hairs on his legs sent shivers of delight to her very core.
Nicolas struggled to hold onto his anger. “Do you trust Alison?” he whispered, brushing his mouth against her sensitive skin before capturing a ripe nipple, swirling his raspy tongue over the hardening bud. Chuckling devilishly as Isabella gasped, arching her back for him to take more. Complying, he suckled harder, drawing the taunt nipple deep into his mouth.
She couldn't breathe as his hands wandered down her ribs, her stomach, and thigh, cupping the soft mound of her womanhood. Isabella shuddered as his thumb massaged the tiny pearl, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. “Not completely,” she gasped out. “I do know she is a victim. First, her father disowned her then her lover abandoned her. Alison has had to depend on herself to survive. Alden makes promises she knows he won't keep.” She trembled as Nicolas worked a sensual magic on her body, panting at the heady feel of his hard length pressing against her thigh. Fire ignited through her as she wreathed under his heavy weight, desperately wanting Nicolas to be inside her.
Nicolas leisurely played Isabella's body. He could just bet Isabella never allowed herself to lose control, to allow someone else to lead while she just followed. Rising above her, sweat pouring from him, he refrained. She writhed wildly under him as her hips urged him to take her. He captured her soft lips in a hard kiss and he plunged deep inside her wet core. Isabella cried out, digging her sharp nails into his tight buttocks. Lifting her hips, she urged Nicolas to thrust harder, deeper. Nicolas complied and pumped savagely into her, then slowed, withdrawing almost to the point of separating, then drove himself deeper each time. His features contorted from the pleasure and agony of her hot, tight wetness surrounding him, holding him prisoner. Nicolas deliberately slowed his pace, wishing to draw Isabella's pleasure out, surprised when Isabella rolled him onto his back and grinned wickedly at him. She was back in control. He couldn't think as she rolled her hips, rocking to and fro, her hands braced on his chest. Mischievous, emerald eyes luminous, she watched him groan in pleasure.
"Protect her for me?” Isabella whispered as she squeezed her inner muscles around his long shaft. His grip on her waist tightened, she gasped when he lifted her up and down his hard length, creating an exquisite friction, inflaming her more. “Please?” she gasped, losing her focus to get him to agree.
Nicolas started to laugh. “Fine! I will give her my protection. Can we please concentrate on other business?"
"Please, Nicolas, please,” Isabella begged hoarsely, her body on fire, ready to explode.
Complying, Nicolas rolled her under him, sliding his legs under hers. Clutching her firm buttocks, he lifted her hips to meet his savage thrusts as he pumped his shaft harder and faster. He clenched his teeth, trying to hold back until he felt her silken muscles tighten around him as Isabella climaxed, taking him along with her. When he felt her sheath tighten around him, gripping him, Nicolas threw his head back, shouting as he shuddered, emptying his hot seed deep inside Isabella.
They clung to one another, afraid to let go. Nicolas rose on his elbows, easing his weight off her. Tenderly placing soft kisses along Isabella's neck, he worked his way to her swollen lips. A foreign emotion rose unexpectedly, but the thought of speaking such things terrified Nicolas, so he remained quiet. Exhausted, Nicolas pushed his weary body off her and collapsed on his back. Enfolding her into his arms, they finally found peace in each other's arms.
"Thank you,” she whispered, listening to his heart thundering in his chest.
Pressing a tired kiss on her lips, he replied, “Your welcome. Let us get some sleep. Morning comes much too quick."
Yawning, Isabella fell asleep, content to be back in his arms again.
The next morning Nicolas woke early to Isabella curling closer against him, seeking his body heat. He had missed Isabella more than he wished to confess, even to himself. Was he falling in love with his wife? Nicolas lived his life carelessly, living for his king and his men. He truly did not know how to love a woman like Isabella. She suffered horrible, physical abuse at the hands of men who were sworn to protect her. Had Isabella suffered mental abuse as well? She didn't show any signs of instability, only a streak of stubbornness a mile wide. Other than that she seemed reasonably sane.
Growing convinced Edward sent him to guard Isabella and Blood Keep from Lord Alden, he reflected over what he'd learned so far. Alden was the center of discord at Blood Keep, Nicolas was sure of it. He was also convinced they were being set up. But, Gabriel did have the boy and they had Alison, maybe they can draw Alden out, dealing with the man once and for all. Isabella stirred, rolling over on her side, smiling up at him.
"Good morning.” She yawned, stretching.
The blanket slipped, exposing her sleek body. He silently groaned, his manhood hardened as his eyes roamed the sensual curves of her firm body. Why couldn't he get enough of this woman? Needing to place some distance between them, Nicolas rolled from the bed, yanking on his braies. Unsure of the emotion rising up inside him again, he needed some fresh air. “You had better go to your room and ready for today."
Hurt by his cold abruptness, she reached for her discarded shift and donned the garment, leaving without a word to him. Sighing heavily, he had to be rational when it came to his wife and could not afford to allow her body and all Isabella's temptations to distract him. Nicolas dressed quickly and left the chamber to prepare his men for the last leg of the journey.
Alison was just rising from her bed when Isabella slipped inside their room. Isabella smiled at the young woman as she dragged her trunk around and opened it. “Which gown would you like to wear today when we meet the King?” Isabella asked Alison who stared at her, confused.
She was speechless. When Isabella failed to return last night, she assumed she was to remain a servant. Here, Isabella was asking which gown she wanted to wear. “Meet the King?” Isabella held up a gown made of tawny gold satin to her.
"I'm not very good at this, but I think the color agrees with you.” Handing it over to Alison, Isabella contemplated her own. “I think I shall wear the plum velvet.” She shook the gown out and laid it on the bed, surprised to see tears falling down Alison
's heart-shaped face. Stricken, she rushed to her side. “Have I said something to upset you? I'm sorry if I had."
Alison shook her head as she wept. “No, you have not upset me. I do not deserve such charity. I have sinned in the eyes of God. My punishment is to be a servant."
Isabella stared at Alison, stunned. “Did you love him?” she asked gently.
"Yea, I did,” Alison whispered in anguish by her past and the evil deed to be done to Isabella.
"God loves you and the beautiful boy you gave life to. You did not know your lover was married. You believed in the man you loved, though I feel I must caution you. He has lied to you once, doubt not he won't hesitate to do so again. As a noblewoman, you must choose what is right for you and your son. You are now in the protection of the Demon Lord and the Red Dragon, champions of King Edward. No harm will come to you, I swear it!” Isabella took Alison's cold hands in hers, smiling encouragingly.
Alison felt hope for the first time in many years. “Thank you for your kindness. And, I would very much like to wear the yellow gown. But, I do suggest we wear wimbles, it is proper when we meet the king.” She smiled shyly at the woman she now considered friend.
Isabella scrunched her face in mock displeasure. “If you must insist.” Winking at Alison, she donned her gown.
The sun shone brightly when the women walked downstairs to the main chamber of the inn. Nicolas stomped about in agitation, desiring to be on the road, suddenly halted in his tracks, stunned by his wife's transformation. Isabella's burnished gold-brown hair was swept up elegantly, spiraling tresses fell down her slender back, covered by an olive-colored wimble. Her conduct was demure. Captivated by her haunting, uncommon beauty, he stared, jaw dropped. The plum velvet snugly fitted her narrow waist, pushing her small, proud breasts daringly upward. Tastefully enhancing the bounty, the squared neckline allowed the blushing curves to be viewed without pushing her completely out of the gown. A cloak of black velvet, the inner lining reddish-black sable, was tossed carelessly about her shoulders giving Isabella an air of royalty.
Emerald eyes glowed wickedly. “Do I please you, my lord?” Isabella asked coyly, batting her thick lashes as she executed a perfect curtsy.
Pride rose in his heart as Nicolas stared at his wife. Isabella continued to amaze him as she adapted to any occasion with style and a sense of humor. What more could a man hope for in a wife? “Yes, you please me.” Nicolas took her hand in his and bowed low, placing a soft kiss in the center of her sensitive palm. Isabella's smile turned brilliant as she formally introduced him to the newest member of their party.
"Nicolas, I wish to present Lady Alison.” Isabella took Alison's hand, encouraging her to come forward.
Shyly meeting Drago's fierce gaze, Alison dropped to a curtsy. “Many thanks, Lord Drago, for allowing me the dignity of my station once more."
"Rise, Lady Alison, and welcome to our household. My wife holds you in great faith.” His voice softened for her ears only and softly growled a warning, “Do not dishonor Isabella or place her life in jeopardy. I vow I will hunt all who are responsible if injury should befall her. Do you understand?"
She nodded hesitantly. Fear pounded in her heart, knowing she had already placed her new friends in danger.
"Good, let us be on our way.” Nicolas led his awaiting wife outside as one of his men offered his arm to Alison.
Alison blushed as the eager young knight assisted her. She smiled sweetly at him, happy again. The gown felt heavenly against her skin, the fine fabric glided over her body with such softness, feeling once more a lady. Alison thanked the young man as he helped her in the carriage. Isabella sat inside, looking absolutely miserable at being in the carriage once more. Alison knew how she felt, hating it, too. In short time, the travelers were on the road to London.
"Isabella, what is the King like? Will he turn me away because of my sins?” Alison was afraid she would lose her happiness at the hand of a truly righteous man as Edward the Third was acclaimed to be.
"Fear not, my cousin is a man of honor. If you asked, Edward would personally turn England upside down to avenge the wrong done by your lover. Do you wish me to speak to him about your situation?"
Alison swallowed hard. Once she believed in romance, praying her honor would be restored, but she was a grown woman now and fairy tales were dreams of a dead past. “No, my lady, I want no blood on my hands. I wish only to raise my son to become a Black Knight and live the rest of my life simply.” Alison smiled sadly, trying to figure out how to repair the damage she reaped on Isabella.
Disappointed, Isabella sat back against the cushioned seat of the rocking carriage. “As you wish."
The sun was setting beyond the dark sea when London, the beating heart of England, came in view. As they approached the high gate protecting the palace, Nicolas announced his party. The guards bowed formally to the Champion of England and opened the gate for him and his party to enter. Halting his horse below the entrance, Nicolas dismounted, handing the reins over to Ahmed. Striding over to the carriage, he opened the door, aiding Isabella's descent. Nicolas captured her reluctant hand and led her up the steps to the castle. Alison blushed when the same young knight who assisted her earlier rushed to take her hand, escorting her inside.
A pompous, old man dressed in white silk bowed low at the waist then turned on his heel, leading them down a long hall. Gold gilded trim was set along the walls of tapestry, all dedicated to knights and acts of chivalry. Isabella noted the many changes since her last visit two years ago. The grandeur of the castle was indeed magnificent. Still, she wished she was home. They entered the great hall where the King and his Queen sat upon their golden thrones in magnificent refinery. In a great, booming voice, the old man announced their arrival.
Edward motioned imperiously for them to approach. When they stood before the royal couple, Isabella curtsied as Nicolas bowed at the waist to the sovereign King of England.
Red-faced with fury, Edward roared, “Drago, what the hell have you done to my cousin?"
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Chapter Eleven
"Your Majesty?” Nicolas asked in confusion. His wide eyes whipped over to his wife who smiled demurely at him. Isabella's emerald eyes glittered with unsuppressed amusement.
"What have you done to Isabella?” Edward marched up to the couple, casting a dark scowl at the gathered nobles whispering to one another as the English monarch bore down on his champion.
Alarmed and disturbed by his wife's amusement at the precarious position he was in, he replied hesitantly, “I married Isabella as you commanded, Your Majesty."
Edward waved his hand, dismissing Drago's reply, impatient to get to the bottom of the drastic change in Isabella. “Not that! Isabella, follow me. I wish a private word with you.” Edward took Isabella's hand, dragging her along as he stormed off to his private chambers.
Phillipa, Queen of England, took pity on the confused knight. “Fear not, Drago. My husband is quite fond of his cousin and only wishes Isabella to be happy. Accompany me, I wish to share a glass of wine with our champion."
Bewildered by the King's anger, Nicolas bowed to his queen and offered his arm out to her. What the hell will Isabella tell Edward? Nicolas cast a worried frown at the door closing behind his unpredictable wife.
Edward shut the door firmly behind Isabella, facing her. “Has Drago forced you to wear gowns?” He demanded, half-afraid he had made a horrible mistake by sending Drago to Blood Keep. Since Edward found Isabella living in hell at Middlesex, he vowed he would never allow anyone to ever abuse her again!
She laughed gaily and took his large hands in hers. “Edward, I felt it was time to allow myself to be what God made me, a woman."
Forcing himself to calm down, Edward urged Isabella to take a chair by the fire and went to pour a glass of wine for both of them. “What has become of my Demon?” Edward asked, deeply concerned as he sat in a chair across from Isabella.
"The Demon Lord was temporarily re
tired, though I have need of him more than ever. The Keep is being torn apart by allegiances.” Isabella smiled ruefully at her cousin and long time friend.
"My spies have uncovered a plot involving William McLeod unifying the border lords, making a plausible threat to Blood Keep. I need the Black Army to be strong.” Edward's dark eyes were fierce with the love he had for her. He would not allow a mere man, although champion to England, make Isabella a simple woman. She had more than earned the right to be whoever she wished to be.
Staring into the fire for a brief moment, she lifted her gaze to her concerned cousin. “Worry not,” she replied wearily and squared her shoulders. “With the aid of the Demon Lord, I will publicly align my house with Drago's before the Tournament of the Demons. The Black Army will not unite with him unless I do."
Compassion filled his dark eyes. “It's a dangerous game you play, but one of great importance to me. I need the Demon Lord and the Red Dragon facing our enemy, side by side.” Edward unfolded his tall length from the chair, holding his hand out to Isabella. “By the way, you look beautiful!” He grinned and placed a kiss upon her smooth cheek.
"Thank you, Your Majesty.” Chuckling, they left the chamber and rejoined Phillipa and Nicolas. Ignoring the questioning look upon her husband's pinched features, Isabella turned to a very distressed Alison. “Your Majesty, I would like to introduce you to a member of our party, Lady Alison.” She motioned for the frightened woman to come forward.
