Captured by Her Enemy Knight

by Nicole Locke

  Wresting control, she released an arm, jammed her elbow back. A grunt, but the arm holding her remained gentle, large, strong. Careful.

  Not danger... Not... She woke.

  Eldric at her back, his hand on her shoulder, whispering words she didn’t understand. Until she did.

  ‘Shh, it’s only me. No one’s here. You’re safe.’

  She shuddered. ‘I thought I was...’ Held down. Her arm pinned, her hand splayed so he could slice each of her fingers. How many times did her father threaten an appendage? How many times did she dream—?

  Panic. She couldn’t catch her breath!

  ‘Shh,’ Eldric insisted, his words never stopping, the hand on her arm brushing. ‘Be at ease. It was a nightmare. It’s not truth.’

  She stilled; he didn’t know. Of course, he wouldn’t. ‘It was my truth.’

  He pulled her closer and she let him. She wanted, needed that warmth. He couldn’t know how much.

  ‘You want to tell me your dream?’

  She stared at her hand, splayed her fingers, counted each one.

  ‘Cressida, what did you dream?’

  ‘I told you things...good things. I thought they were good. I see now that they were merely ways he controlled me.’

  She counted backwards. Ten. Nine. Eight—

  ‘Don’t.’ He clasped her hand in his.

  ‘I need to say this.’ She turned into his arms. ‘Where are the pillows?’

  ‘Gone. You cried out and...’

  He began to pull away and she gripped his tunic. She felt that uneasy thrill when she climbed too high. That moment when the branch under her feet swayed, but she saw further than anyone. ‘I don’t want that life any more. I don’t.’

  His arms were there, hovering above her back. Surrounding her, but she needed more than that.

  ‘I know you don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t you think I know that, after all these hours spent, all you shared?’

  ‘I didn’t share everything.’

  She felt it then. His hand brushing down her hair, his fingers carefully unknotting each strand. ‘Neither did I, but we’ll remedy that. After this night, I can’t go back to the way we were. You aren’t just an enemy. But it’s late and we can talk in the morning.’

  She shook her head. Felt the press of time. She’d told Eldric too much, risked his life. That’s what her nightmare truly meant. It wasn’t only she who her father threatened. It was Eldric, too. He needed to know how much she risked everything. ‘I don’t want to wait. You don’t understand.’

  ‘Shh, in the morning. In the morning. We’re tired,’ Eldric whispered, the weight of his arms against her back now. Almost a true embrace. Heavy with the weight, but not trapped. She felt...secure. When had she been held like this? When had she been cared for? He was so large, it didn’t take much to make him her entire world, to believe he could ward off true evil.

  They stayed like this for a long while. Easing into each other’s breaths. She grew quiet, letting the rhythm he rocked her with and his heartbeat shove the nightmare away, his hand at the back of her head soothing.

  His breath, the murmurs, were everything to her and, for every bit that he tugged her closer, she pushed herself into this embrace and felt the tightening of his body. Until his rocking ceased and his heartbeat changed its rhythm. Until she felt a certain heaviness in her own breath.

  He swallowed. ‘Cressida, are you still awake?’

  Ever since she’d been caught by him, she felt she was dreaming. ‘I don’t think I could sleep again.’

  ‘Could you tell me one more truth?’

  She felt his breath over the top of her head; even that she didn’t want to end. If it would take her telling him more to hold her like this, she’d talk and talk and talk. ‘Yes, I meant it. I meant it. If you need—’

  * * *

  ‘No, not.’ Eldric hated the way he began his question, could feel Cressida becoming frantic again, which was everything he didn’t want. Not when she had allowed him to hold her like this. When had any female welcomed all his touch? His frame, his weight. Most times he was so careful to keep it all away, but Cressida kept tugging him closer and he let her.

  Everything about holding her was a wonder. But out of all they had discussed, there was one matter that he couldn’t quite shake. One matter that he felt had to be truth, but he didn’t know why.

  ‘I need to know,’ he said. ‘I want to know... Why do you feel so natural in my arms? Why is it when we touch, when I can scent your hair, do you seem familiar?’

  He felt the slight twitch of her shoulders, the hard swallow against her throat. ‘Because you’ve... You’ve touched me before.’

  Needing to see her expression for this conversation, Eldric cupped her jaw, gently pulling her face around. A tiny movement, but enough to partly turn her to him, to brush her shoulder against his chest, her arm across his stomach until it rested between them.

  ‘Since I’ve captured you,’ he said.

  She shook her head and it released the fragrance of rain and forest that clung to her pale tresses. He inhaled deeply.

  ‘Because I glimpsed you in that tree?’ He brushed his thumb across her cheek, his calloused hand far too large for her ethereal beauty, but he couldn’t stop brushing his thumb across again to continue to feel the softness. ‘This—’

  She laid her hand on his and stilled his caresses.

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘At Swaffham, in the winter, we—’

  ‘We?’ He released his hand, laid it on her shoulder and turned her completely. Pale hair, wide crystal eyes, lips a distinct shade... Slowly, Eldric laid a finger across her cheek just under her eyes. By no means was it a mask, but it was enough to cast a shadow, to darken that one eye. To change it to a darker blue.

  ‘It was you.’ He pushed up until she was beneath him, both his hands cradling her face to hold her still for his gaze. Days in her presence with him staring at her, hours that she slept where he couldn’t take his eyes away from the improbability that was her. Nothing. Nothing gave away that he’d been this close to her before.

  Except, from the beginning he’d felt this familiarity. He thought it was the shock of capturing her. Never in a thousand years could he have guessed that the woman he danced with at a Christmas celebration in Swaffham last winter was Cressida.

  He’d been sent to Swaffham to spy on his friend Hugh of Shoebury, whom the King believed was a traitor. Hugh had, indeed, been sharing English secrets via a half-thistle seal, but only with their friend Robert of Dent who had married into the Scottish Colquhoun Clan.

  All the time Eldric spent there trying to determine the truth, he’d eaten lavish meals, swum in icy waters, attended masked dances. There in the Great Fenton Hall, he’d spotted the dark-haired woman. She was no bigger than...than the Archer. But she stood in the shadowed corner, fidgeted with her gown and looked around her with a sense of wonder.

  As he conversed with friends and drank far too much, he knew the woman in the corner also watched him with the same open expression.

  Never would he have dared approach. She was far too tiny for one such as he and his size. Yet, when their gazes met, her delight turned to an almost fragile longing. It called to something inside him and he was halfway across the room before he knew what he did.

  Most often when he approached women, they’d tremble, run or gloat as though he was some conquest to boast about later. When he was younger he didn’t care, but over the years he’d found it difficult to be interested enough to pursue, persuade or negotiate.

  Which was why, when the tiny maiden in the corner remained, when she raised her chin with a gaze neither shy nor bold, there was a part of him that exalted. For several heartbeats, they stood without words. He was transfixed and, despite propriety, despite etiquette, he held out his hand.

&nbs
p; He didn’t know what to expect then. Certainly not his reaction when she flouted the same rules as he, placed her hand in his and he brought them to the other dancers. By the time the music began he realised it was a piece that kept them apart far too much and, just as they were to meet again, just when she was at one side of the room and he the other, she disappeared.

  He had searched for her after, but there was no trace. No trace, and now, now she was here. He couldn’t truly believe his eyes, didn’t dare trust her words as he tried to merge the details of that night to this woman under him.

  ‘It was you I danced with,’ he repeated. ‘How?’

  She nodded. ‘I knew you were there. I thought to simply observe the way I always had and then—’

  ‘Then I saw you and couldn’t take my eyes off you.’ She held still for him. Nothing but wonder and delight in her eyes. Years and years of derision regarding his sheer mass, only truly comfortable around his fellow warriors. Always feeling awkward around any maiden tall or not, for none was as wide as he. Knowing he could crush them and could do little about it.

  But the maiden in the corner he could never forget. Not when she had stared directly into his eyes, like she was doing now. Unafraid...and wanting. She had no idea what that meant to him. How he had searched for her, couldn’t forget her, and all this time... All this time she was...this woman.

  Whom he touched, felt the softness of her skin, the warmth, saw the curves of her hips, her breasts.

  Slammed with the utter awareness of her proximity, the fact the woman he had lusted over the last several months was beneath him, Eldric shuddered. He was surrounded with the way she felt, her scent, the stunning colour of her eyes and hair. All of her within reach for his pleasure. He hoisted himself up, poling his arms on either side of her body.

  ‘You need to move from me, Archer.’

  * * *

  Cressida thought Eldric would be angry she had duped him last winter. That the shame would add to his revenge. He hated her, wanted her dead, then she had danced with him as if it was all a jest. Flirted as though she’d done it a thousand times before, their eyes clashing in a dance that went far beyond the steps they made in that hall.

  But it wasn’t anger that blazed through the warrior’s eyes. Not wrath that shuddered his body because she physically experienced each of his breaths, observed the waves of prickles up his arms, the flush that spread upon his throat.

  It was heat. Intent. Desire. And the more they stared at each other, the more it increased. All her life, she’d watched, observed until her prey was within her sights. All her life, she’d wanted Eldric. Could it be possible that he desired her, too? Never in her life did she think so.

  Yet what did she do now? She had no experience with men, no experience even talking to others. Instead, she had watched. She had watched and watched and then, when it came to Eldric, she had dreamed. It was those dreams that kept her still in this moment.

  ‘Cressida, this time, this place. This is why there’s been a contradiction between us. I should hate you, but I can’t. I shouldn’t trust you, but I do. I shouldn’t kiss you, but I did. This is what I was missing. You. I was missing you. And now you’re here...’

  The strain in his voice. One moment they argued; another moment she was asleep in his arms. She didn’t have to wonder now why she fell asleep near him, why she allowed herself to be vulnerable to him.

  This was Eldric and, from the moment she had heard him whistle, from the moment he had laughed, she was always vulnerable to him. Never more so than now, as she placed her hands upon his chest, felt the thump of his heart increase like her own and began to think back about the other times they had touched, the way he looked. She began to believe.

  ‘What is this, Eldric?’ If he truly wanted to be away from her he would have stood. Stormed out of the room. Instead, his arms on either side of her body shook.

  ‘God’s bones, woman, I’m begging you to move. I’m a man, do you understand? One who has wanted you for far too long.’

  Cressida’s heart didn’t care if it survived or not. Eldric felt the same about her as she did him. This was like some promise of the ocean that didn’t—hadn’t—lied to her.

  ‘And if I don’t want to?’ she said. ‘You said I deserved kindness. What if I want more than even that?’

  Chapter Twelve

  Another great shiver, his eyes blazing a warning she didn’t heed. Then, on a hungry groan he lowered his head and took her lips. No hesitation this time, no waiting for this kiss. She knew what she challenged when she said those words. A roll of his hips until he was against her side, his arms lowering that bit more, so she felt the weight of him. Felt the answer to her question: he did want her.

  Twining her hands behind his head, she pulled him towards her. His arms shook, his great strength affected by such a small touch. He kept that slight distance, trailing his kisses along her jaw towards her ear. Only his lips, only the heat and weight of his body to the side of hers. None of his touch.

  ‘How did you hide from me in the hall?’ he demanded. ‘Your hair was dark.’

  ‘I... I put oil and ash...’ she caught her breath ‘...bound it up to prevent it brushing anything. I don’t understand what’s happening.’

  ‘I searched for you that night.’ He licked along the rim of her ear, the warmth of his lips, the heat of his breath, making her shiver. ‘The following day, again, I searched. So much pressure, so many demands and I wanted to find this one woman who left me wanting.’

  Could she trust this? She wanted to. Threading her fingers through the length of his hair, she tugged and pulled, felt and saw the surprised curve to his lips, an almost disbelieving look in his eyes.

  ‘Tell me more about that night,’ he whispered in her other ear. ‘How did you hide the colour of your eyes?’

  More of him above her, more of him for her to reach—she arched her own neck, pressed her own lips under the line of his jaw at the tenderest of spots and mimicked what he was doing to her. The light kisses, the dart of her tongue to taste him.

  Against his skin, she said, ‘I shaped the mask to cast shadows.’

  He groaned, raising his head. His thumb rubbing across her lips. Branding her as surely as his kisses. ‘But this mouth, these lips.’

  That night, she had meant only to observe, but he’d held out his hand and so she took it. Why did it feel as though it was happening all over again? She reminded herself she’d worn a mask, a gown. Now, with Eldric’s dark blue gaze riveted to her lips, there were no shadows or mask to hide behind and she slid her bottom lip under her teeth.

  ‘No, no, no,’ he chanted. ‘Release your lip, Cressida.’ When she didn’t, couldn’t, he tapped the corner of her mouth until her mouth eased. Then he rubbed along the parted seam and she had an overwhelming need to taste the tip of his finger. To taste him.

  A hum under his breath as if he knew that want. ‘Across the room, I focused on what little I could see of you, what was not part of the costume, the headdress, the gown, just this jaw, this chin, these lips. This lip in particular, it looked so soft. It feels soft now.’

  She couldn’t stand it. She had to. Darting her tongue out quick, hoping in vain that he wouldn’t notice. He did.

  His breath hitched. Hers stopped completely.

  ‘What is happening?’

  ‘You know. Surely you know.’

  Did she? She couldn’t think! ‘But why?’

  ‘Because I wanted you at that dance. The duties I had to complete and there you were. I haven’t stopped thinking of that woman at the dance.’

  ‘But that woman...’ she said. ‘But I’m me.’

  * * *

  It was her. All this time, the Archer was Cressida. Cressida was the Archer. His enemy and the woman who haunted him.

  Eldric only touched her hand at the dance, but she felt...right. When he spoke, bendin
g to be heard over the roar in his ears in the din of the crowd, and caught the scent of her, he was snared. All through the simple dance, he kept his gaze on her. Then he’d turned, blinked and he only saw her back to him, the trail of her gown as she bolted down the shadowed hall.

  Aware of his size and the distance, he waited one, maybe two more steps before politely disengaging and pursuing her, but she was gone.

  Until he captured her. Even as he fought her, his body knew.

  ‘I know who you are. All the more, I know, Archer, and something in me knew it, too.’

  He noted the changes this intimacy had on her. The ones that were tightening everything in him, demanding him to claim this woman in all ways. The flush to her pale cheeks, the darkening of her eyes. He wanted her then and, now that he knew who she was, somehow, despite everything still between them, he wanted her all the more. But more words needed to be shared.

  ‘Cressida, there are matters to talk about... I meant it when I said in the morning we’ll talk. But now...with this truth between us, I can’t deny the coincidences. I feel as if fortune or fate has brought us here. What are the odds that you would be you?’

  Her brows drew in. ‘I’ve always known it was me. I always knew I was there.’

  What was she telling him? ‘You were there...to watch.’

  She nodded. ‘I was there for you.’

  He shook his head. ‘All this time, I dreamed of you. Pursuing the Archer and dreaming of a woman who I shared only a few words with. Since last winter I argued that I had no time for any other woman, I needed no distractions. The truth was, I was only wanting you. Sit up.’

  She did. He gathered the hem of her tunic, felt it tear as he whipped it over her head.

  Her arm snapped across breasts he ached to taste. But it was her look of discomfiture that stopped him cold. A sharp reminder of who he was. Of what he had just done. Holding her tightly to him, ripping her clothes from her body. Like some...brute.