Thrill Of The Knight

by Julia Latham

  “You’re none the worse for battle,” Philip said, smiling. “Did it feel good?”

  “It would have felt better to separate his ribs with my sword, but I am patient.”

  “Surely the soldiers will give you another try, since they’re probably looking for us.”

  “Let them look. They won’t find us.”

  “Will Lady Elizabeth be all right with us gone?”

  “She’d be the first to tell us that she can take care of herself. But I’ll return to her side tonight. For now show me the way to the army.”

  After a journey of several miles, they passed the inspection of several guards before entering the encampment spread out across a meadow in the heart of a woodland. Pavilions for the higher-ranking knights were scattered between many campfires. Though several soldiers worked over cauldrons preparing the midday meal, the rest were gathered in an open area of the meadow, where the grass had been stamped into dirt as a hundred soldiers trained.

  Still mounted, John and Philip watched the training exercises for several minutes from the cover of the trees. Ogden and Parker rode up to join them in the woods.

  Parker, short and broad, squinted up at John. “Good to see ye again, milord.”

  John smiled briefly. “My thanks for your help when we were attacked by thieves. My lady and I will not forget it.”

  Ogden grinned. “She’s a fine woman, milord. Had a dagger out ready to defend herself.”

  John nodded and looked back at the training. “I would have thought that learning new skills would make Alderley’s men eager. Why is it not so?”

  Ogden spit out the end of his long mustache. “The missive from Lady Elizabeth settled ’em down a bit, but they don’t trust us—nor you. Just another suitor fightin’ over their lady, accordin’ to them. Maybe ye’re her last hope, and not the right man.”

  John arched a brow at him.

  “Just repeatin’ their words,” Ogden said, reddening.

  John debated simply riding up to the soldiers and introducing himself, but how could he just demand their allegiance, when they were already doubtful of him?

  And then an idea came to him. He glanced at Ogden. “Have you had an informal tournament to test their skills against each other?”

  Ogden frowned. “Nay, milord, though it be a good idea.”

  “I’ll be joining.”

  “Won’t they hesitate to—”

  “But they won’t know who I am. Find me a helm and training armor and bring them to me here. Parker can distract them all by organizing the tournament. Group the men informally to fight each other, with a winner being declared before any blood loss. The winners continue to play each other, until there is only one man left standing.”

  Philip smiled. “And you assume you’ll be one of the winners?”

  “I don’t assume it will be easy,” John said, “not if they’ve learned Parker’s skill with the sword.”

  Parker cleared his throat. “Go on with ye, milord.”

  John waited in the forest while his three men-at-arms gathered together Alderley’s soldiers. The idea of a tournament was at first greeted without spirit, but gradually the men began to become enthused, especially when everyone was ordered to keep their helm on. The knights recognized each other of course, but not all of the simple soldiers. Ogden mixed everyone up, and John was able to slip into a group as it spread out near the trees.

  His first opponent was a common soldier by the look of his garments, but he fought with an eager skill that was impressive. Where John wanted to circle, getting an impression of his foe, the soldier was too eager and tired himself trying to chase. Ogden was judging their group of fighting men, and called a winner when John had the man on his knees, his sword knocked from his hand.

  By John’s fourth bout, there were only a dozen men left, most of them knights. More than one man had angrily demanded to know his identity, but John spoke only with the skill of his sword. Everyone was exhausted, and the sun’s heat rose in waves off their armor. The losers became the spectators, falling and propping their heads on their helms to watch the tournament.

  When it came down to the final two men, one of them John, he sensed the crowd’s curiosity, knew they were still trying to guess his identity. Though tired, he was ready to battle, especially against an opponent who was trying to pretend he could keep his sword arm up. But John could see the trembling in his hand. This was no time for a cautious approach. John came out swinging his sword with purpose, forcing his opponent to jump over his blade and stagger. But the knight raised his sword enough to parry another hard blow. John felt the concussion right up through his shoulder. His breathing was a harsh gasp; the heat inside his helm made perspiration flow freely down his face, stinging his eyes. But he couldn’t lift his visor to wipe it away. Distantly, he heard men cheering. With his sword he battered the shield until it crashed against the knight’s body.

  The knight groaned and tried to stumble away, but John didn’t allow him to retreat. Only when he’d fallen and was unable to lift his sword did Ogden and Parker call the match and declare John the winner.

  His opponent managed to stand, swaying. He pulled off his helm. “I am the captain of the guard. Who has defeated me?”

  John sheathed his sword and removed his helm. The cheering was suddenly replaced by a tense silence.

  “I know you not,” the captain said. “I am Sir Jasper. Who are you?”

  John reached down inside his shirt and pulled forth the chain about his neck. He donned the ring slowly, letting the emerald catch fire in the sun. “I am John, Baron Russell, and by contract with your late liege lord, I am betrothed to Lady Elizabeth.”

  The captain’s eyes widened. “My lord, why did you not show yourself to us?”

  “Doubts about my abilities and my claims have been spoken here among Alderley’s soldiers.” John turned slowly in a circle, meeting as many eyes as he could. “I wanted it understood that I am capable of standing at your side, defending Alderley, defending your lady. We cannot allow Bannaster, who banished you from your own home, to succeed. When I need you, will you be at my call?”

  One by one, the soldiers and knights rose to their feet, their expressions ranging from determination to exultation.

  Sir Jasper nodded to him. “We gladly offer you our support, my lord. We will march with you now, if you need us.”

  John finally smiled, looking at all the exhausted men who puffed out their chests and reached for their swords. “Now is not the time, Sir Jasper, but you have my gratitude.”

  A low murmur of voices began behind John, and he could see the wary expressions of the soldiers in front of him. He turned around to see four strangers emerging from the trees.

  Philip came to his side, his expression intent. “More guests?”

  John recognized the stranger who had not denied his connection to the League of the Blade. Though the three other men with him were not dressed alike in livery, they all moved with a unison and professionalism that marked them as trained by the same master.

  Sir Jasper said, “Lord Russell, shall we disarm them?”

  John shook his head. “I recognize one man. Wait until you have my orders.”

  Together, John and Philip walked across the meadow to meet the four strangers. The man they’d met before they arrived at Alderley now bowed courteously to John. In his face glowed the wisdom and experience that made his age so hard to determine. The other three men with him wore expressions of interest, but it was plain who led them.

  “Lord Russell, it is good that we meet,” the stranger said.

  John nodded. “I think you and I have been in close proximity recently.”

  Philip grinned. “You do enjoy making an entrance. You’ll have to tell me how you snuck into the castle, released us from the dungeon, and removed that pesky soldier all in a night.”

  The man merely smiled and shrugged.

  “You did release us from the dungeon,” Philip said.

  “Since you
deserved to be released, I am glad that it was done,” the stranger said.

  “Not exactly an answer,” John said. “But since I ‘deserved’ to be released, have I earned your approval?”

  “You have been a source of strength for Lady Elizabeth Hutton. So far you have been able to aid her without allowing her people to be harmed.” He glanced at Alderley’s soldiers behind John. “Your next move is of interest to me.”

  “Then perhaps you would help train Lady Elizabeth’s soldiers? Philip tells me that the legends claim your knowledge of stealth is impressive. They will need everything you can teach them, if we are to invade the castle with little death and destruction.”

  The stranger glanced at his three men. Though no one spoke, it was as if they could read each other’s expressions.

  “Very well,” the stranger said at last. “Our aid will be a tool to use as you deem fit. It will be up to you to choose your course wisely. You may have the use of my men for a sennight, no more.”

  “Then that will have to be enough,” John said. “I think matters will come to a head before that. You have my gratitude. Allow me to introduce you to Sir Jasper, the captain of the guard. You will be working with him, for I am needed urgently elsewhere.”

  The day passed with excruciating slowness as Elizabeth tried to pretend that everything would work out. She avoided the great hall, because Bannaster was too happy with himself, as if the king’s decision was a foregone conclusion.

  And she was avoiding her own people, who looked on her with pity. Maybe they were disappointed to think that her betrothed had been there, but had proven unable to overcome Bannaster.

  She found herself hoping for a clandestine message from John, but received none.

  That night, she retired alone to his bedchamber. It had been stripped bare of his few belongings by soldiers searching on Bannaster’s orders. Yet it gave her comfort to be in John’s bed, to imagine his scent lingering on the cushions.

  She fell asleep pretending that he was with her, and awoke hours later to find him hovering over her, his hand covering her mouth.

  Her body went stiff with shock, and then when he released her, she threw her arms about his neck and just held on.

  He was warm, and he was safe, and he smelled like—

  Straw.

  She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked up into his face. “John, how did you get back into the castle?” she whispered frantically. “What if someone saw you? What if—”

  “No one saw me,” he said, caressing the side of her face, and then her hair.

  “You came back,” she murmured, looking up into his strong face.

  As she traced the scar down his left cheek, she felt her emotions overwhelm her. He had risked everything for her, and she wanted to risk everything for him. She pressed her lips to his scar, and felt him go rigid in her arms. Her mouth worshiped the hurts he’d sustained in his hard life, when he’d thought himself unwanted by his family, when he’d thought himself alone.

  She didn’t want him to be alone anymore.

  He was breathing heavily when her light kisses traveled across the stubble covering his jaw.

  “Elizabeth—”

  She silenced him with a kiss on the mouth. His lips, so firm and smooth, finally shaped themselves to the pressure of hers. She held his face in her hands and pressed her mouth to his over and over, memorizing the texture and the touch.

  And then the taste. She angled her head and deepened the kiss. He groaned, but did not take control, just allowed her to do as she wished.

  And she was so grateful, so appreciative. He understood her as no man had ever attempted to. She tasted him with her tongue, darted into his mouth and retreated over and over again, until she could feel him trembling. She ran her hands through his hair, fisting them in it to hold him to her, although it was unnecessary. He was grasping her by the waist, sitting by her side on the bed.

  It wasn’t enough. She was desperate to be closer to him. Dressed only in her smock, she climbed to her knees, letting the coverlet fall around her.

  She finally broke the endless kiss, her lips tender and trembling, to stare into his eyes.

  Then she pulled the smock up her body and over her head, leaving her naked.

  He inhaled sharply, and his hot gaze traveled down, lingering on her breasts, and especially at the curls that hid her womanhood from him. She pulled the leather tie that held her hair plaited behind her, and it slid across her back and over her shoulders.

  He would have reached for her, but she spread his arms wide, so that she could touch his chest. She’d seen the wonders he could perform with a sword, and now she wanted to see even more. She pulled the belt loose at his waist, and it came free, along with his scabbard, which she let fall gently to the floor. She pulled him to his feet beside the bed and rose to stand with him. He was wearing a black doublet and hose, which must hide him in the shadows. But it made him look different than he had as a simple bailiff with a splint covering his bare leg beneath his tunic. Now he looked like a knight, like a baron.

  And it thrilled her to know he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Naked, she moved around him, loosening the laces of his doublet, helping to push it up his body as he pulled it over his head. Next came his shirt, and she slipped her hands beneath it to touch the bare skin of his chest while he fumbled trying to pull it over his head.

  “I watched you bathe the other night,” she whispered, when the handsome expanse of his chest was before her, the ring hanging over his heart.

  While his hands slid down her arms, he gave her an arched brow of surprise.

  “I wasn’t asleep,” she continued. “I watched you disrobe, and I studied your body with a curiosity that rather shocked me.”

  “I hope I measured up,” he murmured against her ear.

  She sighed as he spread kisses down her neck and pulled her against him. Her breasts were pressed to the hard heat of his skin, and they ached with an insistence that drove her farther in this wicked display of her need for him.

  She slid her hands down the slope of muscles that played across his chest, through the feathering of hair scattered there, down to the belt to which his hose was tied. She undid each point with a tug, and the fact that he shuddered each time sent an answering wave of desire through her. She felt alive with the need to join with him, to be one with him. Her skin itched with it; her mind was consumed by it. When she was able to push the last of his garments off, she stared down at his engorged penis, which brushed against her body, making her shudder.

  He lifted her chin and searched her eyes. “Do not be afraid, sweetling.”

  She gave him a wicked smile. “Oh, fear is the last thing I’m thinking about.”

  When he returned her smile in relief, she kissed him again, pressing herself to him, feeling the promise of his erection caught between them. His big arms crushed her to him, as if he needed to be closer. His kisses were wild and passionate, and the brush of his chest hair across her sensitive nipples helped fan the rising flame that her need had become. She reached to touch his penis, but he only allowed it for a moment.

  “Ah, sweetling, I want this night to last, and your touch is sure to hasten my pleasure.”

  “But I don’t understand. I need to touch you.”

  “First, I need to touch you. I want you prepared for me.”

  Though she frowned her bemusement at him, she did not argue. Though she had led the encounter to this point, he now took over.

  And she loved it. She didn’t know what he would do, and that only increased her pleasure. They swayed in the center of the chamber, their hands seeking, caressing. He bent her back over his arm, so that his lips and tongue could arouse her breasts. Even the ring dangling against her was an erotic sensation. She let herself lean back in his embrace, knowing he would never drop her. His lips tugged at her breasts, and when his teeth nipped her, she shuddered and sagged in his arms. One hand slid down her back and over the rounded curve of her buttocks.
Her flesh tingled with the pleasure of it, especially as the tips of his fingers gently teased the cleft between them.

  His hand continued its decent, tugging at her knee, lifting her leg from the floor to press himself deeper between her thighs. The length of his erection rode the depths of her as she hung in his embrace. His hardness was the most intimate caress, and he used it against her with precision, knowing where to rub himself.

  His mouth moved between her nipples, suckling and licking, his big hands held her body to him, while his penis rubbed and probed. As the rising pleasure became a madness that seemed to have no end, she groaned and tried to press his entrance into her body, but he would have none of it. She lost touch with the floor, lost herself in the sensations, and then lost her last touch on reality when pleasure exploded inside her. Her body shuddered helplessly, as waves kept rising through her.

  With a groan, John turned and braced her against the edge of the high bed, pulling her thighs about his waist, at last beginning his entrance into her body. She couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop pulling him tighter against her and the pleasure continued to throb inside her.

  “Easy, sweetling,” he murmured, bending over her on the bed. “I don’t wish to hurt you. A woman’s first time—”

  “I don’t care,” she said, using her feet against his backside to push him into her.

  His brow was wet with perspiration, his face a grimace as he held back from her, as if he knew her body better than she did.

  Maybe it was so, but right now she needed to be joined with him. She ran her hands over every part of his body she could reach, arched her hips off the bed to press him deeper. He gasped when she touched his nipples, so she concentrated her efforts there, knowing how wondrous such ministrations on her body felt. His skin, at first so smooth and soft there, pebbled beneath her fingers.

  At last, with a shudder, he pulled on her hips and buried himself inside her.

  The pain was a momentary burn that swiftly faded beneath the thrill of knowing that, at last, she was one with the man meant to be her husband, her mate. He began to move inside her.