The Maiden and Her Knight

by Margaret Moore

  “Which is why I prefer not to get caught in a thunderstorm if I can help it.”

  “Yet you rode out this morning.”

  “To ensure that my guest was not lonely.”

  There was another rumble of thunder, closer this time, and he looked up at the rapidly scudding clouds. “I think we had best abandon the notion of getting to the river.”

  The words had no sooner left his lips than fat raindrops began to fall. Lightning lit the sky and a loud roll of thunder followed almost instantly.

  “Bob, Harry, ride back to Montclair,” she ordered, twisting in her saddle to address them. “Tell them that Sir Connor and I have taken shelter from the storm in the shepherd’s hut in the river meadow.” She gestured to a hovel at the far edge of the field. “Otherwise, I will be soaked through before we can get back. I have no wish to fall ill.”

  Another bolt of lightning flashed as the two men exchanged wary glances. Connor was just as taken aback by her suggestion.

  “Go, now, before the storm breaks in earnest,” she commanded. “I would not have you two sick, either.”

  The rain began to fall harder, and they obeyed, turning their horses and galloping off.

  “Allis, I don’t think this is wise.”

  “They are wearing gambesons and helmets, so they are better protected against the rain. I have only a thin woolen cloak.”

  With that, she spurred her horse and made for the small shelter.

  He really had little choice but to follow. He couldn’t leave her alone. And if he were being truly honest, he didn’t want to.

  Chapter 19

  As Allis hurried inside the hut, Connor tethered the horses beneath a sheltering oak as quickly as he could. The wind came up, lashing the rain against him. His task finished, he threw his arm over his head, ran to the hut and ducked under the low lintel. The ancient leather hinges creaked in protest as he shoved the decrepit door closed. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness as he breathed in the odor of straw and damp wool.

  Allis sat on a pile of straw, with her back against the far wall. She had thrown her cloak over her shoulders and had her legs drawn up, her arms wrapped around her knees. “It doesn’t leak as much as I thought it would, and we’re alone.” She smiled and patted the straw beside her.

  As he joined her, he couldn’t share her levity. “I don’t think it was wise to send Bob and Harry back while we stay here. Furtive meetings in Montclair are risky enough.”

  “I truly would have been soaked through before we could return.” She took off her wet scarf and barbette and laid them on her other side, then shook out her marvelous hair. “I thought you would be pleased, although apparently you are not.”

  He forced himself to remember why being here with her was not a good idea. “Of course I’m pleased to be alone with you, but this is too reckless. What will people think?”

  “That the lady of Montclair didn’t want to get wet through and catch her death of cold.” Grabbing her scarf, she began to get to her feet. “If you would rather I risk being ill, Sir Connor—”

  He pulled her down onto his lap. If she, the dignified lady of Montclair, was willing to risk gossip, he would not gainsay her. Besides, every impulse within him urged him to stay.

  “Don’t be angry, Allis. Please.” He kissed her lightly and pulled the scarf from her fingers. He tossed it away, then reached up and toyed with a lock of her luscious hair, tucking it back behind her delicate ear. “It just seems so impetuous.”

  Of all the things for him to say! He laughed at the incongruity of it. “The times I’ve been chastised for acting without thinking, and now here I am chastising somebody else!” he explained as he caressed her cheek.

  Then he recalled that too often, the criticism had merit. “Usually I’ve gotten into deep trouble when I acted without thinking.”

  “If you believe this is so wrong, we can go back,” she suggested, winding her fingers in the lace at the neck of his tunic. Suddenly vulnerable, she tilted her head to look up at him questioningly.

  The pace of his beating heart quickened. “I thought you were the responsible one in Montclair, always worried about what people will think and say.”

  A look of sadness came to her eyes, and he instantly wished he had not said that. “Yes, I have been, for a long time. But when I’m with you, I don’t want to worry about such things, at least for a little while. I want only to think of us.”

  He stroked the silky skin of her cheek and brushed his thumb over her full lips, the softness of them enticing and tempting. “I just don’t want anything to go wrong. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I don’t want to lose you, either,” she murmured, turning her head slightly. Her lips skimmed over his palm as butterflies flutter over a flower, and the delicate, yet sensual, act fired his blood. “A few tongues may wag, but what of that if we are to be married?”

  “Are we, Allis?” he whispered, wanting to hear it from her own lips as he lifted her hand and grazed her wrist with his mouth while looking intently into her glistening eyes. “Are we to be married? Would you agree to be my wife, even though I have nothing to offer you?”

  She cupped his face and regarded him steadily as she spoke with undeniable conviction. “You offer me your love, Connor. You offer me a life such as every woman dreams of, beloved, secure, as your equal, not your servant. You can imagine my life as the bride of Rennick DeFrouchette, or another of his ilk. Compare that with the love you offer me, and then tell me which is the better choice.” She smiled gloriously. “It is not such a hard decision to make.”

  Joy, pride, hope, wonderment all burst forth within him at her words. What had for so long been a future dark and bleak as the windswept moors with night upon them was suddenly ablaze with hope and happiness. All the mistakes, anger, despair, fear and regret that had gone before in his life were washed away by her, and he was newly made, re-created and free of the past. Free to begin again, with Allis by his side. Here, now, in this simple hut, he did not envy any king in his palace, or sultan on his throne. He no longer cared what the world thought of him, because Allis’s love was all, and she was giving it to him.

  He undid her cloak and slipped it from her shoulders. “Allis, my Allis,” he whispered as he nuzzled her wonderful soft and smooth neck, then trailed his lips to her mouth, capturing it for a long, luxurious kiss.

  She wanted him, he wanted her; they were to be wed. There had been no doubt in her voice, and certainly there was none in her kiss, or when she lifted his tunic. Her graceful hands moved over his naked flesh as if they were dancing a slow, luxurious dance of seduction. He gasped as they wandered over his nipples, then moaned as she tugged his tunic upward and let her tongue do the same dance.

  Caution and concern fled as dry leaves in a sudden blast of wind. He could no longer fight the desire throbbing through him. He did not want to struggle against his desperate yearning anymore.

  Palming the warm weight of her breast, he brushed her aroused nipple with his thumb. His lips pressed against the throbbing pulse of her neck, and he felt the tempo increase—although her ragged breathing told him all that he needed to know.

  “I’m going to make love with you, Allis,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

  She nodded.

  “Now.”

  “Please,” she sighed.

  Tenderly, blissfully, he ran his hands up under her skirt and along her bare and shapely legs, letting his fingertips linger ever so slightly at certain places as her breathing suggested. The curve of her knee. The hollow where thigh met hip. There her breath caught in her throat.

  “Is this truly what you wish?” he whispered.

  She smiled and brought her hands to the front of his breeches. “I will prove it,” she said softly as, with swift, sure movements, she undid his belt and tossed it toward the door.

  He held his breath as she stripped him of his tunic and untied his breeches to free him, a look of blatant hunger on her fa
ce. He closed his eyes and moaned softly as she stroked him, reveling in the building, exquisite tension.

  She truly, truly wanted him to love her. And by God, he would! He already loved her as he had never loved a woman, or even knew he could.

  “Sweet heaven, Allis, you are my sun,” he whispered as he dragged his mouth along her soft cheek, “bringing light and happiness into what has been only darkness and despair.”

  “Connor, my Connor,” she murmured as his kisses transported her away from the world of duty and responsibility, from pain and fear, into a realm of excitement and desire. This time, there was no hesitation and no dread, no concern for what might happen in the future, because she was sure she knew.

  They belonged to each other. They were destined to be together, made for one another, alike in need and understanding. He made her feel young, alive, full of life and joy and hope—and so much more. No man had ever roused such a passionate, exciting desire within her, or filled her with such longing. It was as if she had been encased in ice, waiting for the one man who could shatter it and envelop her in the wonderful, all-encompassing warmth of his love.

  Slowly, carefully, he eased her back into the straw, cushioning her with his right arm. The straw tickled her shoulders for the briefest of moments, before his mouth left hers and slipped with almost dainty, devastating leisure down her throat. With his left hand, he untied the laces at the front of her bodice just as slowly and carefully.

  She gasped and arched as he cupped her breast, then put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him close, wanting the whole length of his lean, hard body against hers. She captured his mouth with fiery need. His kiss likewise seethed with longing and desire, and her hot blood throbbed throughout her anxious body as his tongue claimed hers.

  Long and luxuriously they kissed, as if time stood still outside the hut, or as if they were already husband and wife, and this their home. They kissed lightly, playfully, teasing one another with the merest touch of mouth upon mouth. They kissed like young lovers who had never kissed before, delighting in the discovery of the sensations it could arouse. Finally, they kissed deeply, passionately, kindling the subdued desire they could no longer control.

  All the intimate moments they had shared before seemed but a pale prelude to what was happening now, as if their previous embraces were a peck on the cheek compared to their deep, intoxicating, feverish kisses.

  Her control slipped and slid away, and she didn’t care. She was fast approaching the edge of something vast and mysterious and not without its own danger, yet she hurried onward of her own accord. All she cared about was Connor—being in his arms, his mouth upon hers demanding and seeking, loving him.

  She gasped her approval as he tugged her bodice lower, exposing her thin silk shift. She might as well be naked, and her taut nipples pushed against the fabric as if anxious for his mouth to surround them. She would swoon if he did not, and then thought she would swoon when he did. He teased, nibbled and licked her breasts through the fabric in a way that set every particle of her flesh tingling.

  Arching, gripping his shoulders and raising herself, she sought more and more of that feeling.

  He drew back suddenly, his mouth a grimly painful line, while his eyes were still dark with unquenched desire.

  She had been holding onto his injured shoulder too tightly.

  But she did not want to stop. Not yet. Indeed, she wanted more and more and more. She wanted to love him, fully and completely, with her body as well as her heart.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot about your shoulder. Here, lie back.” She pushed him down until he was lying on his back beside her.

  “What…what are you doing, Allis?”

  “Helping.” Raising her skirts, she stepped over him, so that she was above him. Then she lowered herself over him, until she straddled his hips. At the contact of his body with hers, she grew moist and thought the tension building within her would kill her if she did not assuage it—or let him.

  He closed his eyes and moaned softly. She bit her lip to keep from moaning herself as his arousal, hard beneath her, created even more appetite.

  “This is better, is it not?”

  “Oh, sweet heaven,” he muttered, opening his eyes. A look of concern came over his flushed features. “Better does not begin to describe…Allis, we should not—”

  She put her fingers against his lips, then kissed him deeply, once more feeling him rub against her in a way that made her ache with yearning. “I told you, Connor,” she whispered, “I am weary of being wise and responsible. I want to be young and free. I want you to kiss me, and touch me, and caress me.”

  “I want to make love with you.” He ran his hands up her belly over the bunched fabric of her bodice to her breasts, and gently kneaded them.

  She held tight to his upper arms, steadying herself against the welcome onslaught of exciting sensations. “Then make love with me, Connor. Please.” Unable to resist the primitive urges building inside her, she began to rock against him. “I want you to make love with me, Connor. I want to belong to you, and you to me, for ever and ever. I want this more than I have ever wanted anything. I need you more than I have ever needed anything. Please don’t refuse.”

  “Allis…”

  “You make me feel so young. Free.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Happy in a way I no longer believed possible. You have made me live again, Connor.” She took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. “Make me feel even more alive now. Love me, Connor, and make me yours forever.”

  He did not reply with words. Instead, he put his hands beneath her and gently positioned her. Gazing at her face, watching her, he slowly thrust into her willing body, past the slight barrier, until he was fully enveloped in her warm and willing flesh.

  Tremendous happiness and tremendous need struggled within him. Primitive impulses urged him to take her swiftly and put an end to the torment of unassuaged desire. Every element of his being commanded him to move, to act, to thrust hard until he felt the bliss of release.

  But not yet. Not yet. Not until she gave him a sign that she was still willing, still certain.

  And then she opened her eyes, and smiled.

  His embrace tightened. Pulling her hard against him, he kissed her fervently. By heaven, what a woman! Never in all the world had one like Allis existed—bold and brave as any warrior, yet fully a woman, with a woman’s softness.

  He thrust again, trying to go slowly and move with care, fighting to ignore his own need. As she had been a maiden, he must not rush this. He must take time to let her grow used to him inside her. He must be patient, no matter how difficult that was.

  Tempted by her flushed skin, he ran his tongue down her neck, tasting the saltiness of her flesh and feeling her heat.

  And then she began to move her hips, rocking against him. He bit his lip and fought to be still. Let her do this, at first. Let her set the pace.

  As she moved in that ageless rhythm, he closed his eyes and willed himself to wait as long as he could before he let himself be carried away.

  Outside, the storm raged on, but he was oblivious, aware only of the thunder of his own blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart. His injury was forgotten, as was everything except Allis, the center of his world.

  She bent forward, so that her breasts brushed lightly across his chest, her nipples teasing his, in a way that made him growl with savage desire. Her hair fell about them in a golden curtain as he slipped her shift from her shoulder, baring it to his lips, his touch. He could not wait any longer.

  Looking into her beloved face, he lifted his hips, thrusting deeper within her. Her eyes flew open. “Does it hurt?” he asked gently.

  “No, it feels…it feels so…” She squirmed a little, wriggling in a way that inflamed him even more. “Good.”

  At that, he could no longer restrain himself. He pulled her down and claimed her mouth as he began to buck his hips.

  Breaking their kiss, Allis moaned and put her ha
nds beside his head. The muscles of her body squeezed him as her pelvis rose and fell with his movements, matching his rhythm. He had never known a woman to respond with such wild, unbridled abandon, who loved with all her body and vitality, holding back nothing. Unrestrained. Free.

  He wanted this to last forever—or at least until she knew the joy of release first, but…he…could…not…wait.

  Her name burst from his lips as he climaxed and wave after wave of euphoria washed over him. As she slowly collapsed against him, he could scarcely draw breath, and it was only moments later, as she lay nestled against him while he was still inside her, that he felt her body pulsating.

  Slowly, slowly the world around him calmed. Everything returned to what it had been before—or nearly. The world became a blissful paradise in a shepherd’s hut.

  She shivered against him and he reached for her cloak. He tenderly tucked it around her, and kissed her forehead lightly. “I don’t know what I have done to earn this reward.”

  “You understand me, and so much,” she replied softly as she snuggled closer. “The loneliness I’ve felt, the weight of my duty and responsibility.” He felt her mouth form a smile. “And you are very handsome.”

  “So you want me only for my looks? Oh, I am wounded to the quick!” he cried in mock despair, but really delighted by her drowsy merriment.

  She laughed, the sound warm and domestic and altogether wonderful. “I’m sure you’re very well aware of how good-looking you are. And if you were not before you came to Montclair, I daresay Merva told you.”

  “I paid no attention to Merva,” he replied with feigned indignation.

  “None at all?”

  “No, not a whit.” A slow ache began in his shoulder, but he didn’t want to move. Holding her close in such wonderful intimacy was worth a little pain.