My Valiant Knight

by Hannah Howell

  “What a clever mon ye are, m’lord.” The sting she had intended to put behind her words was greatly reduced by the soft huskiness in her voice.

  Gabel laughed and bent to kiss her as he unlaced his shirt. “I have ne’er known a woman to wear braies.” He took off his shirt, rolled it up, and placed it beneath her head.

  “Ronald insisted that I wear them. He said that it was one more shield, one more thing to cause a mon to hesitate and thus allow me a chance to get away.”

  “And are you going to try and get away from me?”

  “I should,” she whispered as she gave into temptation and smoothed her hands over his broad chest, savoring the way he trembled beneath her touch. “I should strike ye sharply, push ye aside, and flee to my bedchamber, honor and maidenhead still intact.”

  “I have no plans to steal your honor, sweet Ainslee.”

  “Nay? Ye mean to bed me, to use me to sate your desires.”

  He touched a kiss to her frowning mouth as he eased her chemise off of her faintly trembling body. “I do not mean to use you, Ainslee MacNairn. I mean to enjoy you, savor you, and please you. Do you deny what flames between us?”

  She shivered as he threw her chemise aside and crouched over her. The way he stared at her as he slid his big hands down to her braies made it hard to breathe. There was no ignoring or denying the passion darkening his eyes. Desire had put a light flush upon his high cheekbones and tightened his lean features. The knowledge that that passion was for her was a heady thing. He shared her hunger and her need, even if he did not share any of the deeper feelings she was afflicted with. Ainslee only briefly wished that she had the strength of will to leave his arms. She wanted him too much, wanted desperately to taste the passion he offered her. She gasped with pleasure and thrust her fingers through his thick long hair, when he touched a kiss to the tip of her breasts.

  “Tell me, Ainslee. Do you deny the passion which gnaws at us?”

  “Nay,” she whispered, trembling as he pulled off her braies. “Howbeit, I should still refuse it.”

  “As should I, but I fear I have no strength to do so,” he muttered, hastily shedding the last of his clothing as he looked over every inch of her slim, pale body.

  “ ’Tis good to hear that I am not the only weak soul here.”

  When Gabel tossed aside the last of his clothes and crouched over her again, Ainslee felt a touch of alarm ripple through her desire. He was a big man, and she was suddenly all too aware of how small and slender she was. Their passion matched, but she was no longer so certain that their bodies would. When he eased his body down onto hers and their flesh met, such a wave of desire tore through her body, it pushed aside all of her concerns. He felt good, and he made her feel very, very good. Ainslee suddenly did not care about anything else.

  “Are you going to push me aside, fair Ainslee?” he whispered against her lips.

  “Nay, ye rutting Norman bastard, I canna, and I think ye ken it weel,” she replied, her words harsh, but her tone of voice soft and welcoming.

  “Nay. I but prayed that I was not the only one crippled by this aching need.”

  Ainslee knew exactly what he referred to. The passion was so strong, the need so great, she simply did not care about such things as consequences. She greeted his fierce kiss with a hunger to equal his. As his kisses moved to her throat, she ran her hands over his back and down his sides, the warm tautness of his skin a delight to touch.

  A soft cry escaped her when Gabel’s kisses reached her breasts. He stroked the aching tips with his tongue and she arched against him, burrowing her fingers into his hair to hold him in place. As he drew one hardened nipple deep into his mouth, a tremor tore through her body, the strength of feeling his caress invoked causing her to shake. She grew feverish in her movements as he moved his hands over her body, finding every sensitive spot upon her skin. Gabel kept her fever raging with his touch, his kisses, and the heated words he whispered against her skin.

  Only once did shocked modesty cut into her blind desire. Gabel slowly covered her inner thighs with kisses, then lightly touched one to the aching place between them. Ainslee gasped and flinched away from him, but Gabel gave her passion no time to fade. He quickly returned to the caresses and kisses that had fired her blood, banishing all the cooling effects of her shock.

  When Gabel loomed over her, she looked at him. Before she could find the voice to ask him why he had stopped kissing and stroking her, she felt him press into her. She stared at his taut features as he eased their bodies together, breathless with anticipation. A sharp pain caused her to gasp, and she clutched at his shoulders. Even though desire still held her tightly in its grip, the pain dimming it only briefly, Ainslee suddenly felt clearheaded. She was intensely aware of their entwined bodies, of the feeling of being joined with Gabel, and even the rhythms of his breathing. With a deep sigh of pleasure, she curled her body around his and pulled him closer.

  A groan shuddered through Gabel, and he came alive in her arms. Ainslee felt her body quickly learn to parry his every thrust. The desire that had flooded her body began to collect low in her belly in a hot knot. It grew to a strength that was almost painful, then burst, spreading over her with such force that she cried out his name. A small part of her was aware of Gabel tightly gripping her hips and driving deep within her as he shuddered and groaned. She blindly wrapped her arms around him when he collapsed against her.

  It was a long time before Ainslee regained her senses. She was wondering what to say or do, when Gabel left her arms. Chilled, she tugged his cloak over her, suddenly painfully aware of her nudity. When he returned with a damp rag, she blushed as he bathed away the stains of her lost innocence. She was still unable to look at him when he laid down beside her and tugged her into his arms. The warmth of his body and the way he stroked her hair smoothed away her embarrassment, but she was still unsure of what to do next.

  “Do you now regret what we have done?” Gabel asked, Ainslee’s continued silence beginning to make him uneasy.

  “Oh, nay,” she assured him, finally looking at him and briefly touching his cheek. “I should regret it, of course, and now loudly bemoan my loss of honor, but, to speak truthfully, ’twas great fun.”

  “Fun?” Gabel laughed and kissed her, delighted by her response. “I have ne’er heard a woman call it fun.”

  “Oh? And ye have had your skills judged often, have ye?”

  “Not as often as you may think. You did not expect a man of six and twenty to be a virgin, did you?”

  She smiled, her brief flare of jealousy quickly passing. He spoke pleasantly, simply stating a fact she could not dispute, and not admonishing her. Ainslee also knew that, although Gabel might find a hint of jealousy amusing, even flattering, too much could become deadly to whatever they might share. There was no future for them, and so tearing herself apart over his past or future lovers was extremely foolish of her. She idly ran her foot over his calf and wondered how much more they might share before she had to leave Bellefleur. Ainslee hoped to gather up a multitude of memories to take back to her bleak life at Kengarvey. She dared not ask, however, knowing that any demands at all could easily push Gabel away, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Nay, I didna think ye were as innocent as I,” she said. “I ken the ways of men better than I do the ways of women, but vanity briefly made me wish to be something more than just one out of many.”

  “Oh, you are certainly that, Ainslee MacNairn.” He gently kissed her.

  “I canna bear the uncertainty any longer,” she burst out “What am I to do now?”

  Gabel grinned and took her hand in his, kissing her palm. “We could stay here or we could slip away to my bed or even yours. Did you think I would now dress and stride away?”

  “Weel, nay, but I wasna sure who was supposed to do what.”

  “There is a chill in the air,” he said as he sat up, pulling her up with him. “ ’Twill be more comfortable if we return to the keep.” As h
e handed her her clothing, he added, “We can slip away from here without being seen, so you need not fear that everyone will soon be whispering about you.”

  “Not even my guard?” Ainslee briefly feared that her constant guard had been lurking outside of the stable for the whole time.

  “I sent the man away when I first came out to join you by the dog pen.” He glanced at her as they both began to dress. “I still puzzle over why you were wandering about alone earlier this evening.”

  “Alone? Why should ye think that I was alone?”

  “Because, if your guard had been with you as he should have been, he would have told me of your trouble with that falling stone. Vincent knew nothing of it.”

  “I eluded him for a wee while, is all.”

  “Nay, I think not, although you should be commended for trying so hard to save a fool from a much deserved punishment. Vincent is a fool, but he is an honest one. He confessed to being distracted. So, Paul now shares the guarding of you with Michael”

  “And what will happen to Vincent?” Although she knew it was a grave crime for a guard to neglect his duty, she did not wish to see Vincent pay too dearly. He had simply been a pawn in Lady Margaret’s deadly game.

  “He will be mucking out the stables for a fortnight. A sore blow to a knight’s pride. When he returns to his post as one of my men-at-arms, I am certain he will be more diligent.”

  Ainslee nodded as Gabel helped her don her cloak and led her out of the stables. It was demeaning to be reduced from a man-at-arms to a stableboy, but, if she had been any real danger to Bellefleur, Vincent’s distraction could have cost his lord very dearly. What Ainslee did not know, and dared not ask about, was if Gabel had taken any special note of whose maid had led the guard astray. If he had, he would have to ask why, and the answers might make him suitably suspicious of the Frasers. She prayed Gabel was asking himself a lot of questions.

  As they reached the head of the stairs, Gabel hesitated only a moment before leading her to her bedchamber. Ainslee was briefly distracted by a soft noise, like the faint click of a door latch, but she could see no one. A chill rippled down her spine, and she huddled a little closer to Gabel. When they entered her bedchamber, she was momentarily concerned that Gabel would now leave her, but he smiled, then shut and latched the heavy door. Ainslee laughed softly and tossed aside her cape. She sat down on the bed and, with opened arms, silently invited him to join her. To her delight, he also laughed and strode over to the bed, gently tumbling her down onto it. Their love affair was destined to be a short one, but Ainslee intended it to be full and memorable.

  “What ails ye, daughter?” grumbled Lord Fraser as his daughter shut her bedchamber door and angrily paced the room, pausing only to kick out at a piece of furniture.

  “That MacNairn whore has taken Sir Gabel to her bed,” Margaret snapped, and threw a heavy tankard against the wall.

  “Are ye certain?” Lord Fraser rescued the dented tankard and filled it with mead before sitting down on her bed.

  “They just slipped by my door, wrapped in each other’s arms. They hadna even brushed the hay off of their clothes. ’Tis clear that they have been rutting in the stables like animals.”

  “That doesna mean that he will now take her to wife. She is a MacNairn. Not only has her father blackened the name, but she has no dowry—no lands, no coin, no power. A pitiful poor choice for a bride.”

  “Men have made pitiful poor choices before.” She leaned against the bedpost and crossed her arms over her chest as she scowled at the door. “And ’tis a sore blow to my pride to have that MacNairn whelp bedding the mon I intend to wed. She must pay for that insult.”

  “Ye- have only had one plan to rid Bellefleur of the lass, and that failed.”

  She glared at her father. “ ’Twas a good plan, but I have fools surrounding me. I must see to this myself. I begin to think it might not be wise to kill her here.”

  “Where else can ye kill her? Ye canna wait until she returns to Kengarvey.”

  “Nay, I canna. Howbeit, it should surprise no one at Bellefleur if the whore disappears. After all, prisoners escape all the time.”

  Nine

  Ainslee stretched, reached out, and sighed when she found the other side of the bed empty. Gabel had quietly slipped away before dawn, just as he had said he would. She knew it was for the best. Such discretion would save her some embarrassment. Nevertheless, she regretted the need for such subterfuge. It would have been far nicer to wake up to the morning wrapped warmly in his arms, with no need to worry about what people saw or thought. The need to creep about stole some of the beauty from their lovemaking.

  She crossed her arms beneath her head and stared up at the ceiling. There was an aching in her body as a result of her first bout of lovemaking, but it was a discomfort made bearable by sweet memory. Everything she had ever been taught told her what she had done and what she intended to keep on doing was wrong, but her emotions told her it was right. Ronald would never condemn her for what she did, for her attempt to grasp at some happiness for herself, and his was the only opinion that mattered to her.

  Curling up on her side, she decided it was too early to get out of bed. The sun had not even risen yet. Gabel’s leaving must have disturbed her and caused her to wake up, for she was still very tired. A cool breeze briefly touched the back of her neck, and she tugged the coverlet more tightly around herself. She then frowned, certain that she had heard a footfall, but, even as she turned to look, a blinding pain burst inside of her head.

  “Careful, fools,” hissed Lady Margaret as she hurriedly looked over the unconscious Ainslee’s wound. “We dinna wish to leave bloodstains behind.” Assured that Ainslee was not bleeding, she signaled the two burly men with her to wrap Ainslee up in the blanket. “Get her out of here, and be careful not to be seen. I will follow as soon as I have gathered up her clothes.”

  “Why do we need to take her clothes?” asked the pox-marked, dark-haired man who tossed Ainslee over his broad shoulder.

  “Because, my idiot cousin, she is to have escaped. No one will believe that she has fled into the night barefooted and dressed only in a thin nightrail. Go, Ian,” she ordered her cousin, “and be sure that your hulking companion keeps a close watch upon your back.”

  Lady Margaret cursed softly as she stuffed Ainslee’s clothes into a saddlepack. She wished she had more clever allies than her cousin and his friend. They were the only ones who could ride away from Bellefleur without rousing too much curiosity, however. No one would question two Fraser men-at-arms riding away to rejoin Lord Fraser’s son. Ainslee’s blanket-shrouded form could easily be explained away as part of the travellers’ baggage.

  The first tint of sunrise was coloring the sky before Lady Margaret watched her cousin and his companion ride away. She was not too concerned about being seen up and about at such an early hour. No one at Bellefleur knew her well enough to dispute her claim that she had risen to be certain that her cousin carried a gift and a message from her to her brother. Rubbing her hands together to warm them, she hurried back into the keep, already anticipating the uproar, when it was discovered that Ainslee MacNairn had escaped.

  A groan escaped Ainslee as she felt her body hit something hard. Cursing, she sat up, wavering slightly as a fierce dizziness overwhelmed her. She wondered dazedly how she had gone from her soft warm bed to a crumpled blanket on the hard, frost-tinged ground. Two pairs of dirt encrusted boots entered her line of vision and, rubbing her temples in a vain attempt to stop the throbbing in her head, she slowly looked up at the two men standing before her. She recognized one as Ian Fraser and felt a spasm of alarm. There was only one reason for her to be smuggled out of Bellefleur before dawn and dumped miles from anywhere. She was about to be murdered.

  “Where have ye brought me to?” she demanded, hiding her fear and watching the two men closely.

  “ ’Tis a wild place south of Bellefleur,” replied Ian. “Near to five hours ride to the south.”

 
“Ah, so ye arena intending to return me to Kengarvey.”

  “Nay. Me cousin has taken a fierce dislike to you, Ainslee MacNairn. Now, de Amalville is a stranger here and doesna ken much about Margaret, but I wager ye ken what happens to ones she takes a dislike to.”

  “Aye, she sends hulking idiot cousins out to get the blood on their hands.”

  “I wouldst dull that sharp tongue of yours, woman. I hold your life in me hands,” he snapped, flushing with anger.

  “Nay, ye hold the means of my murder, is all. Ye havena the courage to return to that hell-born cousin of yours and tell her that ye left me alive. So, why dinna ye and that mute, witless hulk with you just do as ye have been commanded to, and then skulk off to whatever hole ye slithered out of.”

  To her surprise it was not Ian Fraser who lunged at her, but his companion. Her goading had served its purpose, however, by instigating a blind attack. Ainslee grunted with pain as the man fell upon her and wrapped his thick hands around her throat. She groped for his dagger, even as she fought for breath and against the urge to pull at his choking hands. When her fingers closed around the hilt of his knife, she nearly cried out her relief. Using the man’s body to hide what she was doing from Fraser, she stabbed her attacker between the ribs, driving the well-honed blade of the dagger into his heart. Even as he grunted and slumped against her, she pushed him aside. In one swift, graceful move, she took the man’s sword and stood up to face a stunned Ian Fraser, armed and ready for battle.

  When the man reached for his sword, she tensed, hoping she had the strength to wield the heavy sword well enough and long enough to stay alive. Ian did not draw his sword, however. He stared at his dead friend, then at a grim-faced Ainslee, and back again several times. Her heart skipped with hope when he cursed and rushed to his horse.

  Ainslee did not ease her fighting stance until Fraser was long out of sight. She slumped to the ground, weak with relief and some disbelief that she had fended off two strong men. Fortunately for her, they had been both stupid and cowardly. It was several moments before she realized that she was far from safe. She was out in the middle of a harsh cold land wearing only a nightrail, and with no chance of getting any supplies, for they were on the back of the horses Fraser had taken with him.