Tournament Prize
Page 11
It made him nervous. Well, more nervous than he already was.
Guillaume ducked into the tent, contriving to fill it by sheer force of presence. Though Alan couldn't grudge that, not now. He owed a great part of his present happiness to this man.
"Have a surprise for you," Guillaume said. "Outside. If you've finished preening."
"Fine one to talk." Alan waited for the page to nod, then with a measured step processed to the cleared space outside. Almost bare now, with the majority of guests already departed. Some had remained, on Charles' and Madeline's invitation, to attend the ceremony and the banquet after. But the great crowd and spectacle of the tournament had moved on.
It gave the place a desolate air, and yet underneath that lay a note of contentment. In a week or so, Alan thought, these fields would begin to forget the ravages of so many hooves and feet. Months would pass before all the traces were erased, but even now a sense of great peace began to reclaim the countryside.
Guillaume's horse waited, grand in colours, ears pricked. Alan felt the customary sting of his heart. It had grieved him to part with this animal, his first and best of friends. He'd found others, of course, luck had graced his fighting days, he'd done well. But this horse had meant more to him than any since. Alan had not yet learned to accept so grievous a loss.
"He's yours," Guillaume said.
Alan stilled. Turned to search for meaning in those dark taunting eyes.
"Call it a wedding present," Guillaume went on. "I don't mean to make a habit of going soft on you. But you've earned him back. Besides, Matilda wants you to have him, and she won't let up until I agree."
"Truth." Matilda emerged from the other side of the horse, one hand firm on the bridle. "You can call it a present from both of us, if you like."
Alan walked forward, slowly, while the world rippled around him. Took the rein from Matilda, and met her smile.
Leaned forward on impulse to kiss her cheek. "Thank you. This means... more to me than I can say."
"I know." She patted his arm. "Go on, mount. You'll want to arrive in style to claim your bride."
***
Caroline held her breath. They were alone at last, she and Alan: just the two of them, husband and wife. Sharing a bed.
She was naked. Entirely naked, under the coverlet. And he also. She felt the warmth of his body, so close to hers, almost touching.
He lay beside her, supported on one elbow, and caressed her face with his free hand. Watched her with intent eyes, darkened by evening shadows and desire.
Which she answered with her body and all her heart.
He leaned over and kissed her, slowly at first, gradually deepening. Tasted her, as she tasted him, and let his hand travel down her shoulder and onto her breast. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer still, touched skin to skin, his chest against hers.
Alan eased his lips from hers. "One thing only," he murmured.
"What?" Caroline whispered in return. She didn't want to talk, not now: she wished only to give herself over to pleasures of the body, with him.
"It has troubled me since the evening we first met."
"Oh?" A little chill ran through her heart. What might she have said, or done, that he objected to?
"I must know it," Alan said, "before I can think of anything else."
Caroline swallowed. She must not fear: he loved her exactly as she was, and they belonged to each other in a divine and indissoluble bond. "Tell me."
Alan grinned. "What precisely is your objection to Anselm's second proof of the existence of God?"
Caroline grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him back onto the bed, and kissed him again and again as he laughed at her.
***
About the Author:
Maria Ling lives on the edge of a moor in Yorkshire, England, surrounded by ruined abbeys and haunted caves. Visit her Smashwords author page for more stories.
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Also by this author:
The Norman's Captive
by Maria Ling
The Norman held out his palms to her, empty. Then unstrapped his belt and placed it very carefully on the table, sword and knife and all. Held out his palms again.
Well, she hadn't imagined he was taking her here for a knife-fight. And he was unarmed now, she could -- no, she couldn't strike at him, that was a ridiculous idea, he wore a mailcoat that covered his chest and arms and reached to his knees. If he were asleep she might get close enough to stab him in the eye, but he wouldn't sleep for a while yet, no, she understood that well enough. He spoke again now, in that hated Norman tongue, it made her want to spit. But his tone was mild and low, not curt as it had been with the men, she could almost believe he was pleading rather than commanding. Which was absurd, of course, he could order her as he liked and force her to comply, no one would defend her.
He mimicked the sheathing of a knife. Oh yes, that would suit his purpose well. Anger flared up within her, dissolving the worst of the fear.
When a Norman knight captures her as she flees her abusive home, Saxon peasant girl Leofe knows exactly what she faces. But Roland proves to be unlike any man she's ever met - and since her survival depends on pleasing him, she resolves to do so fast. Medieval romance novel set in twelfth-century England.
Available now from Smashwords or your preferred ebook retailer.
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Also by this author:
Lady Knight
by Maria Ling
Her smile faltered. She stared back at him with widening eyes, a deep mossy brown softer than he could ever have imagined. Her lips tempted him, too, slightly parted, he could bend his face to hers and --
Christ and Holy Mother Mary. This wasn't on, he couldn't fall for her. Not a fellow knight, which she was -- hard as he longed to regard her as a woman and a bedmate. They'd meet on the battlefield again, at the next tourney or the next, he couldn't...
Maybe he could.
After all, he'd seriously thought about seducing her.
But not like this. It would have been a fun encounter, all pleasure and no commitment. And she'd have to be married, he'd sworn that to himself. But she wasn't, he'd swear to that now, there must have been some mention of the man before this moment. Even if he wasn't here -- which he would be, surely. What man of blood and flesh could stay away from her side?
No, she was single, and glorious, and he desired her beyond anything he'd felt for a woman before. Which he couldn't show her, of course, she'd laugh at him or despise him or worse...
Worse, she'd respond in the way his quick imagination promised that she would, all passion and lust and fierce enjoyment, and then...
Guillaume swallowed what felt like a knuckle in his throat.
Then he'd never let her go. Never relax his grip for an instant. Because if once he got close to her, so close as to make the two of them become one...
"Take it outside." Roland, God and all the saints damn him straight to hell, chose that moment to butt in. "I like a good punch-up as much as anyone else, but some of us prefer to eat in peace."
Tournament champion Guillaume has no mercy on rival knights - except for the one who is also the most ravishing woman he has ever beheld. But Matilda scorns chivalry, and aims to defeat him on the battlefield. Which means he must use other skills entirely, if he's to vanquish both her body and her heart. Medieval romance novel.
Available now from Smashwords or your preferred ebook retailer.
***
Also by this author:
Knight for a Husband
by Maria Ling
"Come, lady Rowes," Hugh said. "Give yourself and your son into my care."
So much for that hope. "I can't," she said. But her eyes strayed to the corpses on the ground. So quick it had been, one moment alive and the next one dead. She'd expected screams and suffering. The sudden change shocked her. And the thought that Will -- her fingers clenched on him again. He writhed in her grip.
"Last chance," Hugh said. He
looked stern now, a tall slouching man clad in leather, with a grim set of his jaw. "I mean what I say. You and the boy I will have, by force if necessary. Come now, come willingly, and I give you my word that you won't be harmed."
"I don't believe you." Mary raised her chin. She would end this now, so quick it might be. "The only reason you'd want us is to use us against my lord."
"Of course," Hugh said. "But there are ways and ways. Besides, it may not prove necessary. I think we've won the day. But you will come into my care, and I will serve you up to the king, and he'll be glad of that, I think. A pretty woman to dangle at one of his loyal men, along with title and lands."
Mary caught her breath. "You'd never."
"Oh, not for myself." He gave a negligent shrug. "Someone far higher in his favour than me, I should think. But you'll be a fair prize, and the boy a surety for your good behaviour. It's the way these things are done." He straightened abruptly and strode towards her. "Now, if you please."
Mary swung around, with Will bodily in front of her. But it was too late, she was surrounded. Men on all sides now, lazy and confident.
"Come." Hugh's hands closed on her arms. She shook him off, or tried to, but his grip tightened so hard she yelped. "No more trouble. It won't be the first time I've whipped a woman. Or a child either."
"Don't you dare." She fought against him, he was strong as rock. "If you touch my boy -- "
"Then do as I bid you, for the last time."
She slumped in his arms. She'd lost before ever he spoke to her, and she knew it. "Provided I have your word." For what good that would do, she had no reason to trust him, no reason to think he stood high in favour with the king. From his own words, rather the reverse. His guarantee was a weak and feeble thing, she dared not place her faith in it. But she was caught, she and Will both, and if her obedience secured Will's good treatment, that would be enough.
"You do." His grip eased, enough that the pain dripped from her arms. He pulled her towards him, not too hard, more encouragement than command. She yielded to it, let him lead her away, shushed Will when he complained.
"A fair catch," Hugh said as he led them back onto the charred ground, and circled around to the rear of the force. "I wish all my hunts were as speedy and successful as this."
Forced to marry brutal warlord Hugh de Vion, widow Mary of Rowes thinks only of survival. But when Hugh's overlord John de Bois demands her young son as hostage, she must trust her husband to protect them both - if she pays his price. Medieval romance novel set in England during the Angevin wars.
Available now from Smashwords or your preferred ebook retailer.
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