Table of Contents
A Damsel in Distress
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 1
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 2
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 3
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 4
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 5
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 6
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 7
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A Damsel in Distress A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 1
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 2
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 3
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 4
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 5
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 6
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 7
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A Damsel in Distress
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A Damsel in Distress © 2008 By Brenda Williamson
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A Damsel in Distress
>* * *
by Brenda Williamson
To My Reader:
I love the chivalry of knights rescuing ladies, but I also like ladies that have a little spunk and aren’t afraid to go after what they want. Ware and Irisa make the perfect couple as strong individuals and romantics that let love into their hearts. I hope their story inspires you to live life to its fullest.
A Damsel in Distress: Chapter 1
Irisa lay in the open field, exhausted. The loud thunderous rumble from the sky made her lift her head. Searching the blue heaven, she looked for the dragon she fell from in flight. She twisted and turned on her knees and examined the horizon.
Against the sun, the silhouette she expected appeared. She struggled to get to her feet as the beast riding low, followed the terrain and crested the hill from which she watched.
She anticipated one kind of rider and got another. Instead of a barbarian, a knight appeared riding the large dragon.
The knight pulled back on his reins and the beast landed with a skidding quick halt. The animal stomped the ground and snorted as the sizable man slid from the saddle.
“And pray tell what exactly are you doing?” He strutted toward her, impressive and superior.
“Waiting to be rescued?” She gave him a coy smile and a flutter of her lashes.
She’d never seen a more dashing man.
“If you were a damsel in distress, I might oblige.” He rested his hands in the area of his hips and stared down at her.
“You dare to give me arrogance?” She assumed all knights looked forward to a day they could be the ready, willing and able protectors of women.
She watched him with worry and recalled one particular knight of the realm not to her liking in any area of conduct. This one fell quickly into the same category of conceit.
“Well, are you going to explain?” he asked again.
Irisa didn’t like his impatience or his apparent annoyance with her.
“Oh, I thought t’would be nice to lie tied up in a field for a while,” she shot back sarcastically and lifted her bound wrists for him to see.
His brow rose as he moved in closer, his gaze taking in the rope cutting into her wrists.
While he appeared capable of carrying the heaviest of armor, he breathed laboriously with the chore of moving in his attire. Leather leggings, knee-high boots and a chain mail vest over a blue tunic were light wear for a warrior, yet he showed weakness in his moves. Or maybe it was a tiredness he suffered like her, for a boring life.
“Then it appears you do need rescuing.” His looming shape blocked the sun, leaving angelic rays cast around his head and shoulders. “From a life of thievery, perhaps?”
“I was kidnapped you oaf.” She waved her arms at him insistently. “Untie me.”
“Kidnapped?”
“Yes, now would you mind cutting these binds, they’re digging into my flesh.”
As the victim of an abduction gone awry, she fumed with her frustration as the knight stared at her.
He shifted his stance, folded his arms over his broad chest and ignored her plea. Moving from the blinding morning sun, he took a new location that let her see him clearer. With the turn of her head, she followed his slow circling inspection.
An internal heat rushed deep into her loins and placed a succinct titillation on her senses as she examined him. Her heartbeat quickened at the observance of the fine male specimen. She couldn’t begin to recall a time she found herself utterly fascinated by a knight’s appearance, and she knew many.
In his favor, and the cause to the liquid lightning flowing beneath her skin, he didn’t jump to her commands either. Always a curious enigma on the knights and guards of her father’s castle, Irisa knew just how to tease and taunt them. The only thing she retained in her devilishly forward attitude was her virtue. She denied all men the pleasure of her body beyond caresses and kisses. The knight before her stripped away the desire to hold onto the last chaste thing about herself—her virginity.
Delighted by the imaginary way his gaze peeled her clothes away, she watched lust build within his dark eyes. It would be hard to ignore the magnetism of which only wild beasts knew in mating season.
“I should string you up for stealing one of my dragons.” His gaze narrowed. “Where is your accomplice?”
“Maybe it wasn’t too clear to you the first time I said it, but I was tied, gagged and put on the dragon by ruffians. I assume their plan was to ransom me back to my father.”
“And my dragon?”
“What can I say? It was not a well thought-out scheme on their part. When they saw the dragon grazing in the pasture, one snuck up and captured it.” She wrestled with the bonds. “Now cut me loose.”
“Then what?”
“What is this, story-time? One man rode off on horseback and the other thought it would be best to fly me, his prisoner, back to wherever they came from, I assume.” She lifted her arms higher. “Take this rope off me.”
His impervious attitude toward her beauty confused her. Had not every man she met, told her they’d fulfill all wishes as quickly as her wants whispered from her lips? Even the man that put her on the dragon removed her gag becau
se she blinked her eyes a few times and gave him an expression of fear.
“Sounds like a tall-tale to me.” His fingers folded around her arm and he jerked her to her feet.
“I command you to obey my orders and untie me.”
In his stare, she saw he deliberated over setting her free. She hadn’t the patience to wait and twisted her hands, fighting the rope.
“Command, order and obey,” he laughed. “Aren’t you a brazen wench with your tone.”
“Wench!” she gasped, as the derogatory word slipped beneath her tolerance of his manners.
He picked her up and hoisted her to his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Put me down. Irisa kicked in the air. “Where are you taking me?”
“To your punishment for thievery.”
“You can’t.”
“Oh, but I can. I saw you abscond with my dragon. I have a dozen field tenants as witness to the offense.”
His attempt at mounting his dragon failed. The weight of a knight in even light armor was enough to make the chore difficult. Her additional poundage hindered his objective.
“It’s not so easy, is it?” Irisa laughed on his second try. “I can image it makes it even more tricky hanging onto a struggling woman. But don’t mind me. Have your fun trying to get on your beast.”
Her giggling abruptly stopped when he slapped her bottom. The sting silenced her delight and infused her cheeks with heat.
“How dare you.” She tried fixating on resentment in an effort not to notice his hand remained firmly fastened to the fiery imprint. Her insides trembled with anticipation of him giving her another smack.
Instead, his palm swept from one red-hot cheek to the cool one. He caressed in a circling motion that spiraled outward until he had covered her whole quivering rump. Her stomach tightened into a tangled mess of nervous knots and her mouth went dry from panting.
He snorted an amused sound and she kicked her legs, disliking what he guessed was her submissive interest in his actions.
“Now we see who has the last laugh.” He tossed her sideways over the saddle.
“By far, this is not over.”
“You’re right about that.” He slapped her bottom again and gave a firm squeeze, leaving her speechless.
Wicked ideas emerged and she imagined herself bare-assed to his abuse. She prided herself by dominating men in whatever endeavor she took on with them. This knight made things challenging and exciting. Her insides surged with a quickening of lust that threatened to divest her of her last virtue.
***
Ware swung up behind the saddled wench. He smiled, thinking how much he’d like to give her a thorough paddling for her haughty and inept waywardness. Too pretty to be a peasant, she didn’t act like a lady either. He also didn’t like the idea she might be one of his neighbor’s daughters since tavern whores liked sexual games, while he found noblewomen reserved prudes.
It didn’t stop his thoughts from wandering with the idea of violating the brash young woman.
He kicked the flanks of his dragon without pulling back and the animal jogged along the ground. The jarring ride gave the lady punishment for making him ache to have her. She grappled for anything to steady her position and when her delicate hand landed on his thigh, a spark ignited a vein that went directly to his cock. He closed his eyes and imagined what she could do with her fingers if they wrapped his stiff erection with as much verve as she already displayed.
The daydream ended abruptly when her hand hit the inside of his boot. He glanced down and watched her extract his dagger from its sheath.
Instinctively, Ware kicked his leg up and the impact sent the lady tumbling off his saddle. She rolled down the incline of the clover-covered hill. A scream squealed from her and his mind grasped at how she might have fallen on the knife.
She relieved his fears by sitting up immediately, spewing a dozen curses at him for his boorish behavior and something about his mother, which he didn’t quite hear.
“Up,” he commanded the dragon and directed his flight down the hill. “Not exactly ladylike language, now is that?”
Ware stopped a safe distance. In her hand, she clutched the sharp blade. His gaze wandered to the appealing, long and shapely legs protruding from under her bunched up gown. Creamy calves curved to beautiful smooth knees and continued into luscious milky thighs. His tongue ran over his lips in thought at how splendid she’d taste.
The combs and pins that once captured her hair on her head were gone. A swallow, too hard to pass the dryness in his throat left him silent and in awe. Cascading bright ringlets caped the lady’s small shoulders and dripped in golden spirals to the lush green grass. Again, his imagination twisted with ideas of her silky hair caressing his flesh.
She lifted her arms and with her hands still tied together, she tried shoving her hair back. The obstinate shorter locks in the front fell over her eyes and she looked through them at him.
“You will be sorry for your ill manners, Sir.” She shook her head and flipped her head back until most of the long coils swung back out of the way of her sight.
“I would have been most unhappy indeed if I let you stick my own knife in my leg.”
“You are absolutely right, there.” She put the knife handle between her drawn up knees.
Captive to the display, he watched her.
“You aren’t going to stop me?” She placed the twist of hemp binding her wrists on the blade.
“And miss the show you are giving? Hardly.”
Her beautiful thighs led to the curve of her bottom sitting on the hem of the gown. Elegantly poised, exposing more than her legs, she sawed the rope back and forth against the steel blade. He reconsidered her as a peasant, a thief that stole a noblewoman’s clothing. He had never met a lady of refinement as uninhibited.
The rope snapped and she jerked her skirting down. Jumping to her feet, she took a warrior’s stance, ready with the dagger extended in his direction. Her fiery dark brown irises displayed a bold defiance and he wanted to ravish the beauty before the heated passion of her anger dispersed. A woman’s flared temper could make a sexual encounter a sin to share even for the devil.
Ware slid off his saddle, laughing and shaking his head at having a notion. Duty-bound to not place a damsel in a position to defend herself, he bowed in offer of his servitude.
“Sir Ware Pembroke, M’lady.” He never let his gaze break from hers. “I should like to be of assistance.”
***
Irisa pursed her lips. Sir Pembroke’s overconfidence was rough and beautiful. His mahogany mane of hair fell forward and he swept it back with the tips of his fingers funneling through the stray wisps. The handsome distraction bothered her.
“Hand me my dagger.” He held his hand out as he neared.
She shook her head, but lowered the knife.
“I’ll not ask you again.”
His hypnotizing stare heated her pores. The chaotic nerves beneath her skin tingled as if needles prickled her flesh, especially her breasts. His gaze lowered to the very points of her hardening nipples and she realized she rubbed one breast to stop the annoyingly throb.
He had a wicked grin, the kind that threatened her with a ferocious dominance she wanted to give into.
When he came at her, there were no more warnings. In her attempt to flee, she fell with him. There, with the knight pinning her to the ground, she lost the weapon as he yanked it from her hand and tossed it aside.
“Sorry M’lady, I hate blood, especially my own.”
His one hand manacled both her wrists in the ring of his thick fingers. She studied his face when it came closer. His square jaw, the slope of his nose and his full lips were sensual and appealing. The weight of him was not as unwelcome as she pretended. Every breath she took created a friction against her nipples from where the cloth of the gown pressed. Her mind went numb as the ache in her loins grew feverishly intense.
Did he know? Could he tell by the way her body heaved up and
down? He obviously guessed that something was willing in her and his mouth fell upon hers. She whimpered with a wanton’s soul requesting his sweet abuse of her lips. Writhing from the torture of his weight, she continued in her playacting to see how far she could lure the knight into doing wicked things to her.
His free hand moved up her side and stroked the side of her breast squished against him. Periodically, he squeezed and she lifted her hips in search of an intimate connection. Only his body forced her down and the chain mail began embedding the fabric into her flesh.
He rocked on top of her, making her insides tighten and moisture dampened her thighs. His hot breath seared her lungs and she clung to him, eager for the kiss to last much longer than it did.
Lifting his head, he gave her a mocking smile. “I see an inferno heating your velvet cheeks, M’lady.”
She closed her eyes, savoring a bit more of his manhandling. His fingers curved over her breast and the slow motions titillated her nerves. He pinched her nipple between the oscillating strokes and finally the weight of his hand lay on her breast as if it were nothing more than another form of restraint.
“I could have done you worse.” His weight on her eased. “However, I think you’ve been punished sufficiently.”
Irisa moaned at the loss of the orgasm building inside her. She lifted her head, pressed her mouth to his and kissed him gently.
Sir Pembroke pulled away and stared at her. His dark brows joined with surprise. She batted her lashes modestly and held her bottom lip between her teeth.
“You look as if you’ve forgotten how to be noble with a lady of breeding.” She teased, quite pleased by his astonishment.
“What breeding you’ve sprung from has yet to be determined.” His mouth captured hers roughly for a moment and pulled back. “However there is much to be said of the lower class.”
Her smile faded with the development of his bemused expression. She hated when a man thought he could get the upper hand with her. It was what always drove her to push when shoved.
Sir Pembroke’s mouth captured hers again. He kissed her hard and purged her of every trace of saliva as his tongue bathed her with rapt attention. The rumble of her submission wasn’t far from his extrication of her senses. His lips moved harshly and sucked on hers with overwhelming enthusiasm. He released her wrists and stroked over her head as the deluge of passion flowed from his kiss into her.
A Damsel In Distress • Dragon Fighter Romance Book 1 (Dragon Fighter Romance ~ Book 1) Page 1
