Knight of Deceit (Knights of Passion Series 2)

by Evie North

  She arched against him, clinging to him, aware of the thrust of his body inside hers. She kissed his neck, finding the hollow there, remembering how she had often secretly gazed upon that place when Barlow was nearby. He lifted his head with a groan and she felt the beginnings of the end, rippling through her, causing her muscles to contract and her heart to beat harder.

  A moment later he cried out and spilled into her, and she gasped and held him as she was catapulted into ecstasy.

  *

  Maven gazed up at the green canopy above her, listening to the birds. The man still joined to her was stroking her hair, his face against hers, and it seemed for a moment as if their breaths were perfectly synchronised. This was more than a fumble. This was something so special she struggled to find the words.

  Was it the ring? she asked herself. Has Master Keevil put some spell upon me apart from the one he stated?

  “Will we meet again?” she murmured aloud.

  He lifted his head and it was Sir Walter’s pock-marked face above her, his pale eyes, and yet at the same time it was not. Once again his face wavered and for a moment, just a moment, it was Barlow gazing down upon her.

  Startled, she tried to rise but he had already become Sir Walter again. Her heart was deceiving her, she thought, by turning the knight into the squire. He sat up and straightened his clothing, and with shaking hands she pulled down her own skirts.

  What have I done? Margaret would be furious with her. She was supposed to lead Sir Walter along with promises and temptation, not give in at the first opportunity!

  “Tonight,” he said gruffly, standing before her. “I will arrange it.”

  “I thought we were too well guarded,” she replied, and couldn’t keep the misery from her voice. “Soon we will be in England and gone.”

  “You do not need to go,” he reminded her, and suddenly there was an urgency in his voice, in the hand he clasped about hers as he helped her to her feet. “If you agree to come with me, I will take you away into the north. By the time they . . . your father discovers we have fled it will be too late.”

  Maven felt her heart lift like a bird flying. Yes! she thought. A moment later reality, like an arrow, brought her crashing down. It was impossible. Sir Walter thought she was Margaret and if Margaret did decide to go with him then Maven would still be sent south with Isobel. Her fate would remain the same.

  “I must return,” she said. “Stay here until I am safe back at the camp. We must not be seen together.”

  He let her go and although she did not turn as she hurried through the trees, Maven felt his gaze upon her back. Once she was safely out of sight she removed the ring and slipped it back into her pocket. Soon she heard the sounds of the princesses’ train and hurried quickly to the litter. As she’d expected Margaret was seated inside.

  “You took your time,” she said sharply. Her eyes were narrowed, suspicious, but Maven shrugged as if there was nothing amiss.

  “He was overly eager,” she said. “I had trouble dissuading him from running off there and then.”

  Margaret considered this and then she smiled, as if Sir Walter’s eagerness had been for her. “Did he say he would meet with you again?”

  “Tonight, my lady.”

  “’Tis risky.”

  “He said he would bribe your guards.”

  “Well.” Again Margaret appeared flattered. “Tonight shall be the final time, Maven. You will tell him you have decided to go south after all and take your chances with the English royal court.”

  Maven felt her heart sink. Her body was still singing from her encounter in the woods and the last thing she wanted to do was end her trysts. She bowed her head so Margaret couldn’t read her eyes. “Very well, my lady.”

  Margaret didn’t seem to notice her less than enthusiastic response. She was already considering her own future and Maven was sure it did not contain any thought of her maid in waiting and half sister. Maven was just a warm body to use when she needed a spy but there were plenty more warm bodies, and she told herself that if she was gone then Margaret would soon forget her.

  As the train prepared once more to take to the road south, she reminded herself that she’d known the ending to this story all along. And yet there was something hot and bright, burning inside her. A wilfulness she had never felt before. A determination to take her own chance at happiness, no matter how foolish and dangerous it might seem.

  Maven was considering escape. For a moment her heart pounded in her chest and her breath caught in her throat. Could she really run away? Not with Sir Walter, that was impossible, but what if she were to use him? Travel a little way north before striking out on her own. Sir Walter would be angry, of course, but she would wait until he was asleep and then . . .

  Maven shook her head. She was a young woman with little money and little power and she doubted she would get very far. Sir Walter would send his men to bring her back and punish her, and alone and friendless Maven would have no choice but to comply.

  It isn’t fair, she thought to herself, tears stinging her eyes, but when had it ever been? If only she could find a way of turning the situation to her advantage. Of escaping Margaret and Walter and finding happiness with Barlow.

  *

  It was evening and they were accommodated in a house in a town, given over to them by the local provost—or more likely appropriated by King John’s man, an officious gentleman called Sir Leonard. Maven had been waiting nervously for the message from Sir Walter, and when the door opened she looked up expectantly.

  Her heart gave a flutter. It was Barlow. His face was set in sober lines, his eyes downcast, as he presented the folded paper to the princess. Then as he stood waiting to be dismissed, he shot a single glance across the room at Maven. It was enough. His dark eyes burned for her. Margaret, who had barely noticed him, waved a hand to send him on his way.

  “Sir Walter will be here at midnight,” Margaret announced, crumpling the note in her hand and tossing it into the fire.

  Maven had turned to watch from the second story window. She wasn’t disappointed. Barlow stepped from the door into the street and looked up; they stared at each other he reached into his pocket and held something up, something that glinted in the fading light.

  A ring! Gold and heavy, and probably with mysterious markings. Similar to the one Master Keevil had given Margaret.

  Maven gasped, understanding that it had not been Sir Walter in her bed. In her arms. No wonder she had felt so conflicted when she was with him. Barlow had taken his master’s place, just as she had taken Margaret’s. They were both mere pawns. Master Keevil’s amusement was because he knew what was afoot. And now their tryst tonight would be their very last, forever. Unless they did something—something so dangerous and so daring she could hardly think of it without shuddering.

  “Maven?” Margaret’s voice was harsh.

  Maven spun around, facing back into the room. “I’m sorry, my lady. I-I was distracted.”

  Impatiently Margaret waved her hand. “You must make Sir Walter understand this is your final meeting. At the same time you must not cause him any insult—who knows if I may still need him. I-I haven’t quite made up my mind, so you must walk a fine line, Maven. But I am sure you are clever enough to find a way.”

  Maven tried not to smile. “Yes, my lady,” she said softly and all the time she was thinking: Barlow, I am meeting Barlow.

  However Margaret wasn’t finished. “You are clever, Maven. I have always thought so. And you have been loyal to me. When we reach England I will see that you are rewarded.”

  Surprised, Maven met the princess’s blue eyes, so like her own. “Serving you is its own reward, my lady.” The lie tripped off her tongue.

  “But there must be something you wish for,” Margaret said a little impatiently.

  Barlow and a life away from you, Maven thought instantly. “Perhaps you will grant me the wish of no longer asking me to lie with men I do not love,” she said daringly, and held her brea
th as she waited for a response.

  Margaret smiled. “Love? What is love to you, Maven? Is there a man with whom you are smitten?”

  “And if there is, my lady? Would you grant me leave to stay in Scotland, to be with him?”

  She laughed. “But you are so good at learning the secrets of the men you take to your bed,” she retorted with careless cruelty. “No, I cannot grant you that wish, Maven. Think of another.”

  But Maven did not answer and Margaret had lost interest. She was already planning ahead, considering her options. England and a noble husband or elope with Sir Walter and stay in Scotland. At least, thought Maven bitterly, her half sister had a choice.

  *

  It was late when he came. Across the roof and through the window, silent and clothed in black, standing in her small chamber with rain like diamonds in his hair.

  The cloak she’d wrapped around herself was all covering, but she felt as if she were naked before him. Her loose hair lay about her shoulders but of course she was wearing the magician’s ring so he saw Margaret and not Maven. Just as she saw Sir Walter and not Barlow.

  However she knew the truth now.

  He reached for her and suddenly she was in his arms. “Barlow?” she whispered against his lips.

  He smiled. When he held up his hand, she saw the same ring on his finger as was on hers. “You knew before I showed you, didn’t you?” he said.

  “I saw Sir Walter but I felt you. Your hair, your skin, your kisses. Somehow I sensed something was amiss.”

  “It was the same for me, Maven. I saw Princess Margaret but when I touched you I knew it was you. But I was already aware that your mistress would never take the risk of meeting with Sir Walter, just as he would never meet with her. They are well suited, those two. They use others in their plots and do not care who might be hurt, as long as it is not them.”

  “So this game they were playing, all the time they knew?” Maven cried, angry and hurt. “They were like puppeteers pulling our strings?”

  “But the game has changed,” he reminded her. “We are no longer their puppets.”

  Maven wasn’t so sure.

  “Will we?” He’d clasped the gold ring on his finger and so did she, and together they removed them at the same time.

  Instantly she saw him. Barlow. The man she loved and longed for. And she could see the same thoughts in his eyes just before he bent his head to kiss her.

  This time it was Barlow she clung to and Barlow who removed her cloak and Barlow’s eyes that burned as he looked upon her nakedness. He lifted his hands to cup her breasts, running the pad of his thumb over the jutting nipple of one while his mouth covered the other. Maven groaned and stumbled back to the bed.

  They fell upon it in a tangle of limbs, but he was soon busy stripping off his clothing. Maven ran her hands over his shoulders, bending to kiss his chest, her tongue trailing down to his belly and lower, finding his protruding cock. He held her head, murmuring his pleasure, as she licked and then covered him with her mouth. Barlow’s hips pushed forward and as she sucked upon him he cried out suddenly, spilling into her mouth.

  “Maven,” he said raggedly, and she looked up at him. He lifted her, so gently she felt humbled, and held her in his arms. “You are all I want in this world. I will not let you go.”

  Maven tucked her head within the curve of his neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. “Has your master set you this task before, Barlow? Has he ordered you to bed women and discover their secrets?”

  “Yes,” he sighed. “Many times. And you too?”

  “Yes, me too.” Maven snuggled closer. “When you spoke of escape in the woods today . . . Was that you talking, or Sir Walter?”

  His arms tightened around her. “It was me, Maven.”

  She smiled against his skin. “Thank you. I do not want to go to England. I want to be with you, always. But how can we? You’re only a squire and I’m but a maid.”

  “You’re right. We are nothing to these important people with their schemes and plots. But that will work in our favour, Maven. Because we are nothing to them they will not bother with us, not after the first flurry when they realise we are gone. We will find somewhere to hide and wait until they forget, and then we will live our lives.”

  He was right, Maven thought. Margaret would soon forget her, and Sir Walter too. They were ambitious, and would both move on to their next plot and find new counters to use in their games.

  Barlow held her away so that he could look into her eyes. “You know I am Sir Walter’s half-brother? My father is fond of me. He will be angry at first, for Walter’s sake, but he will eventually forgive me. We will need to hide for a little while, and I know a place in the far north. The land is wild, Maven. Are you brave enough to go there with me?”

  She smiled and reached to stroke his cheek. “If you and I can be together, Barlow, then I can be brave.”

  He turned his head to kiss her fingers. She could feel his cock hard again, nudging her thigh, and she lay down, drawing him on top of her. When he was inside her, moving with her, she sighed her contentment. Whatever the risks, whatever the outcome, she would go with him. Better to die with Barlow than live without him.

  *

  The plan had been for Maven to slip away in the morning, before the train made its way across the border and into England, but Margaret was keeping her close. Frustratingly she had to stay.

  “What did Sir Walter say?” Margaret wanted to know. Something in the princess’s expression caught Maven’s attention. Had she changed her mind? Yesterday she had been all for an English husband and now she was wavering.

  “He wants to take you north, my lady.”

  Margaret chewed her lip. “Send for him, Maven. I wish to speak to him once more before we leave.”

  Anxiously Maven glanced over at the guards by the door. Sir Leonard, the king’s man, was frowning at Margaret. “My lady, we are setting off for the border in a moment. We have no time for—”

  “Send for him!”

  Maven went to the door, briefly explaining that the princess wished private conversation with one of the Scottish knights. A last minute message to be taken back to her family. Sir Leonard looked as if he didn’t think such matters important—he had a schedule to keep—but everyone knew the Princess Margaret was strong-willed and would have her way. With a huff of breath he nodded and sent a servant off to fetch Sir Walter.

  Maven stood by the window, her body tensed and anxious, wondering what was about to happen now. Would Sir Walter himself come to Margaret’s summons, or would he send Barlow in disguise? And what would this mean to Maven and Barlow and their plans to escape?

  Out in the street she saw Sir Walter striding quickly toward the house, but he did not look up at her. He seemed in a hurry and full of his own thoughts.

  “He is here,” she said to Margaret.

  The princess settled herself, straightening her back, assuming her regal look, although Maven could see the girl was full of disquiet about her future. She was only sixteen after all, and despite her manner she was still a young girl. “Allow Sir Walter in and then leave us alone,” she ordered the men at the door. And, when they appeared dubious, “Do as I say!”

  The next moment Sir Walter was striding across the room toward the princess, his face full of triumph as he knelt before her and took her hands in his. His voice was too low for Maven to hear, but the intensity of their conversation made her think she was going to throw in her lot with the Scottish knight.

  Maven’s gaze went to his fingers but with Margaret’s entwined in them it was difficult to see if he was wearing the golden ring. If this was Barlow then he was acting under orders because he had not glanced at her once.

  “Maven!” The princess was frowning and had clearly been repeatedly calling her. “Go to the stables and see that my mare is saddled. Do not allow yourself to be stopped by anyone. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  She passed close by
Sir Walter but he had eyes only for Margaret, and then Maven was outside, hurrying toward the stables.

  What should she do? She was angry now. She could see her blissful future vanishing beneath the catastrophe of Margaret escaping with Sir Walter. If the two of them managed their elopement then Maven would no doubt be made to bear some of the blame and be punished accordingly by both kings. Margaret would have destroyed her one chance of happiness.

  The stables were busy, with horses being readied for the journey, and the grooms had no time for her. Raising her voice threateningly she finally managed to get her orders obeyed, and the princess’s dappled grey mare was saddled.

  Maven led the animal out into the yard. The mare had always been a favourite with her, more so than with her mistress who cared little for animals and pets. She soothed her with soft words and pats, and the mare went docilely, despite the jostling crowd. What was she to do now? She felt a tug on her arm but with so much going on she ignored it, until she felt it again.

  “My love.” Barlow! She turned and flung herself into his arms and he held her safe, cocooned within the swarming movement all about them. “Maven, we don’t have much time,” he murmured in her ear. “Sir Walter and the princess are planning to run. They will be followed, brought back, and all hell will break loose.”

  Maven met his eyes, her own wild. “What will we do? If they take her then I will be punished. I know her. She will probably say it was my fault.”

  “Then we must go now.”

  “Maven!” That imperious voice made her jump. Too late, the princess was here.

  “My lady, you must think carefully,” she spoke in a rush, her voice trembling beneath her mistress’s imperious stare. “Think what you will lose. Think what Scotland will lose.”

  Sir Walter was reaching to help her onto her mare. “Princess Margaret will ride today,” he said to Sir Leonard, who had followed them out and was asking questions in an angry tone. “The litter makes her feel queasy.”

  But Maven’s words spilled out of her, desperation giving them a fluency she did not know she had. “In England you will be a royal hostage, a princess of great value. If you run then you will be nothing but a traitor to be caught and punished. Your father may forgive you but he will never give you all you deserve. He will send you to an estate far away, where he cannot see you, where no one can admire your beauty, my lady, as it should be admired.”