Knight of Desire

by Knight of Desire (lit)

  If this was sin, he was long past caring. He tasted her as he wanted to. As he’d wanted to from the first time. When she gasped in surprise, he tightened his hold around her thighs. She would have to make her protest loud and certain if she wanted him to stop. No other woman tasted like this, smelled like this. He licked and sucked and slid his finger inside her.

  She writhed and moaned, but he would not be satisfied until he made her cry out. When she did, he surged up on his knees and pulled her hips against him, thrusting, fast and hard, fast and hard, until they cried out together.

  He collapsed forward, panting, his weight on his outstretched arms, his forehead resting on her chest.

  Neither had spoken a single word.

  He lifted himself up and dropped beside her, spent.

  Surely that frenzied coupling had satisfied the aching hunger inside him. But when her fingers brushed his cheek, he knew it had not. He wanted far more from her than he could trust her to give.

  He lay on his back, staring into the darkness. Her fear in the first days of their marriage had been real. He was almost sure of that. But had she feigned the tenderness in the weeks that followed? Had she?

  He was about to get up to return to his own bed when she moved beside him. The breath went out of him as her hand came to rest on the flat of his stomach. Then she leaned over him, her hair sliding over his skin.

  And he was lost again.

  She did not come to his bed as she used to. But each night he went to hers, and they made love. Silent, frantic, all need and want and anger. Afterward, he would leave her, unable to bear the intimacy of sleeping with her.

  Though she let him into her bed each night, she avoided him during the daylight hours. Against his will, he watched for her all day. He caught only glimpses of her—leaving a room, walking on the ramparts with Stephen, running across the bailey yard with Jamie.

  He knew it could not go on like this.

  When she once again did not come to the hall to take her breakfast, he decided enough was enough. He took the stairs two at a time and entered the solar.

  He stood outside the closed door to her bedchamber, asking himself why he was there. He did not know whether he could trust her. Whether her feelings were true. The hard truth was, none of that changed what he wanted. He wanted their relationship to be as it had been before.

  Through the door, he heard her retching. He pushed the door open to find her vomiting into a basin. As she wiped her mouth on a cloth, she looked up. The apprehension that came into her eyes when she saw him took him aback.

  “Are you ill?” he asked from the doorway.

  “ ’Tis nothing. Just an uneasy stomach.”

  His anger drained out of him. She looked so frail and vulnerable in her night shift, with her slim ankles and delicate feet showing below. Despite everything, a feeling of tenderness swept over him.

  He took the basin and towel from her and set them aside. Taking her hand, he said, “Catherine, I want us—”

  Before he could say more, there was a loud banging at the solar door. Damnation.

  “What is it?” he shouted as he stomped into the solar.

  To his surprise, it was not a servant waiting outside the door but one of his men.

  “Lord FitzAlan,” the man said, “we have reports the French have landed a force.” He was breathless from running.

  “What else do you know? Where are they?”

  “They landed at Milford Haven,” the man said. “ ’Tis a disaster, m’lord. The castles at Haverfordwest, Cardigan, Tenby, and Carmarthen have all been taken. The French are now sweeping across the south of Wales to Cardiff.”

  “God in heaven,” William swore, “the king and his army are in the North.”

  “I was told messengers are on their way to both London and the king.”

  “We must make haste to be ready when the king calls.”

  William followed the man out. What he had to say to Catherine would have to wait.

  The castle bustled with activity as the men prepared to leave for war. There would be a major battle when the two armies met, so William would take most of the men with him. Luckily, Ross Castle could be defended with a small number of men. The most serious threat was siege. William had worked hard, however, to ensure the castle’s stores were adequate.

  As soon as the news reached the king, he would race his army south. He would send word to the Marcher lords, telling them where to join him for the confrontation.

  The call would come soon. As soon as tomorrow.

  At supper, he asked Catherine to wait up for him. He did not know if a full reconciliation was possible, but he wanted to come to some understanding with her before he left. He still had much to do, so it was late before he finally made his way up to their rooms.

  He found her asleep on the window seat in the solar. The candle on the table was nearly gone. He pulled up a stool, glad for the opportunity to watch her unobserved.

  Starting with her shining hair and the delicate features of her face, he let his gaze travel over her. His throat tightened as he took in the curves of her breasts, her waist, her hips, and then the long line of her legs. When he reached her feet, so small and graceful, he felt an unexpected sting at the back of his eyes.

  What was he to do with her? He could not say, but he did not want to leave things as they were. He picked up her hand and rubbed his thumb over it. Its very smallness made him feel protective.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “You were smiling in your sleep,” he said. “What were you dreaming?”

  Still only half awake, she said, “A dream I often have about something that happened long ago.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. Awake now, she gave him a wary look and shook her head. “It will only make you angry.”

  “Please, I want to hear.”

  After more prodding and assurances, she gave in.

  His heart turned in his chest as she began to tell of the ride they took the night before her wedding to Rayburn.

  “A young man was sleeping in the stable, and he went with me.” She cast a nervous glance at William and added, “He was an honorable young man who wished to protect me.”

  William nodded, which seemed to reassure her. He kept quiet and let her tell the tale.

  At the end, she said in a wistful voice, “That night I felt safe and happy and free all at once.”

  He swallowed hard, regretting that he’d never made her feel that way again.

  “I’ve dreamed of that night often,” she said, looking off into the distance. “The dream seems to come to me when I am worried or unhappy.”

  He felt worse, knowing he was the cause of her unhappiness tonight.

  “Is your dream always the same?” he asked. “Do you dream it just as it happened that night?”

  She looked down at her hands and took her time in answering. “It has always been so, until tonight. This time, the young man became you in the dream.”

  William felt as if a fist gripped his heart. Taking both her hands, he asked, “Do you remember in whose service this young knight was?”

  She jerked her hands away. “You are not going to chase him down and threaten his life, are you?”

  “I swear, I will not.”

  She seemed to take him at his word, for she put her hand to her chin and paused to think. “I am certain he did tell me.… He was on an errand for someone important.…”

  Her eyes widened. “It was Northumberland.”

  “Aye, it was.”

  She stared at him a long while, a question forming in her eyes.

  “My hair was long then, and I wore a beard,” he said in a quiet voice. “At that age, my pride at being able to grow one was greater than my annoyance at how much it made me look like Hotspur.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “It was you?”

  He nodded.

  She scrutinized him through narrowed eyes. “ ’
Tis true, between the beard and the darkness I could see little of the man’s face,” she said slowly. “But the difference is in more than your appearance.”

  “I am changed?” he asked, though he was not sure he wanted to hear.

  “You are used to command now, and it shows,” she said in a tentative voice. “Back then, you were… you were… more trusting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She bit her lip, hesitant.

  “You can tell me,” he pressed.

  “You did not know me, yet you took every word I said on faith.”

  He saw the hurt in her eyes. And the accusation.

  “I thought you had forgotten that night,” he said, his heart in his hand. “I dream of it as well. But in my dreams, I always rescue you.” It made him feel vulnerable to tell her, but he made himself continue. “I chastised myself for not finding a way to help you that night. I think that is one reason the dreams would not leave me.”

  “You could not know how Rayburn would mistreat me,” she said without a hint of hesitation. “And there was nothing you could do. Rayburn was the king’s choice.”

  He shrugged. Practical considerations did not release a man from what honor required.

  “How long have you known I was that girl?” she asked, an edge to her voice now. “Did you know even before you came to take Ross Castle?”

  “I did not know until I saw you on the drawbridge.” He closed his eyes as he recalled how he had ridden his horse up to her in a fit of rage. “It was when you fainted.”

  They were silent for a time, each lost in their own thoughts.

  “Guilt was not the only reason I dreamed of you.” He wanted to tell her all of it now, before he left for battle. “There have been other women. But from the night I rode with you in the moonlight, it was always you I wanted.”

  The confession was hard to make. He expected it to please her. Instead, her expression grew melancholy.

  “At times in these last weeks, I believed you cared for me.” She sighed and shook her head. “But it was never me you cared for. You were in love with a girl in a dream.”

  He came to her tonight hoping to bridge the rift between them. Even though he had doubts about her, still he came. He confessed he had wanted her—dreamed of her—for years.

  And yet, she dismissed all this as nothing.

  “You have hurt me more than Rayburn ever did,” she said.

  There was nothing she could have said that would have surprised or offended him more.

  “I’ve never taken my hand to you,” he snapped.

  “Rayburn battered my body, but he could not touch my heart. He was predictably cruel, never once to be trusted.” She looked hard at him as she spoke, her eyes revealing both hurt and anger. “But you, William, you are so kind to me that I trust you—and then you rage at me.

  “You made me ache with your tenderness,” she continued, her voice beginning to quaver. “And then you come to me in lust only, taking me and then leaving me more alone than I have ever been before.”

  “You could have refused me,” he said in a choked whisper. “I told you that you could.” It was his only defense.

  “I missed your touch,” she said, her smile bittersweet. “Each time, I hoped what we did would bring you close to me again. That it would be as it was before between us.”

  William covered his face with his hands, overwhelmed with emotion. When he heard her rise, he dropped them and looked up at her.

  “It is you I need rescuing from now, William, for you are breaking my heart,” she said, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “You bring me misery of a kind Rayburn never could.”

  He grabbed her wrist to stop her from leaving.

  “I am sorry with all my heart for hurting you,” he said, pleading. “I am sorry for it all.”

  “You did not even believe me when I tried to warn you of the French landing,” she flung at him, her voice bitter.

  He did not care if she chastised him so long as she stayed.

  “I should have listened to you.” The fact that the troubadour brought her news of war did not mean the man was not also trying to seduce her, but William did not say that.

  “Please, Catherine, I do not want to leave with this unhappiness between us.”

  She knew the risk that he might not return from battle without him having to say it. It was unfair to play on her sympathy in this way, but he was too desperate to care.

  All he wanted was to have that closeness between them again. The joy. She was not like other women, not like his mother. If he could make Catherine happy, she would not leave him.

  He pressed her open hand against his cheek. “I know I cannot mend it all tonight,” he said, looking up at her. “But could you pretend to forgive me for this one night? We cannot know when we will have another.”

  When he kissed her palm, she closed her eyes as if bracing herself. He put his arms around her waist and rested his head against her.

  “I promise I will be a better husband to you when I return.” He meant it with all his heart.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, then kissed the top of his head. The miracle of her kindness washed over him.

  He knew he must not fail her again.

  He rose to his feet and lifted her in his arms. He looked into her face, waiting for her answer. After a long, long moment, she nodded. He carried her to his bedchamber before she could change her mind.

  Tonight he would take her with a tenderness he hoped might begin to heal her heart.

  He set her on the edge of the bed and lit a single candle. When he came to sit beside her, she moved away so that they did not touch. He had a long way to go to earn her trust back.

  He turned her away from him and began massaging her neck and shoulders. Her muscles were tense under his hands; he worked them until he felt her relax.

  He kissed her along the curve of her neck. When he reached her ear, he whispered, “Lie down for me, Kate.”

  She let him ease her down onto her belly.

  He undid her braid and ran his fingers through the long, silky strands. As always, he was mesmerized by the hundred shades of gold reflected in the candlelight. Sweeping her hair to one side, he leaned over and pressed his lips to her cheek.

  He rubbed her scalp and temples with his fingertips until she closed her eyes. Then he moved down to her shoulders and back, massaging through the thin night shift. By the time he worked his way to her fingers, her hands were limp.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, and smiled at her muffled grunt in response.

  He turned his attention to her feet, rubbing first the soles and then each toe in turn. The curve of her lips told him she was enjoying his ministrations. He bent her leg so that her foot rested against his chest while he massaged her calf. He stopped to kiss her foot, her toes, to run his tongue along the sole of her foot.

  He laid her foot on the bed and kissed the back of her knee. As he kissed it, he eased her night shift up her thighs.

  The room was warm.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead as he massaged her thighs. Slowly but steadily, he worked his way upward. When he got to the juncture between leg and buttock, he traced the delectable curve with his tongue. When she shivered in response, he gently bit her with his teeth. Once, twice, three times.

  He lifted his head and gave it a shake, reminding himself that this was for her. He tried to slow his breathing.

  He returned to his work with renewed resolve. As he pulled her shift up, she lifted her hips and then her chest and head. He had her naked at last.

  God have mercy, his wife was beautiful.

  His wife.

  He straddled her to rub her back. With slow deliberation, he worked his way over every inch. Then he ran his fingers in light circles over her back. He felt himself grow harder and harder with anticipation as he swept his hands closer and closer, until at last his fingers touched the soft, full curve of the sides of her breasts.

  Feeling her stir at the tou
ch, he clenched his jaw until it ached. He wanted to feel her breasts in his hands, her nipples hard beneath his palms.

  He took a deep breath.

  Hoping he could keep himself in check, he leaned on his forearms to kiss her neck. His chest brushed against her back, sending a jolt of hot lust through him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the urge to rub his throbbing cock against her backside. If he did, he would never last.

  For a long moment, he remained poised over her, his breath coming hard and fast. All he could think of was lifting her hips and entering her from behind.

  He opened his eyes as she rolled over to face him. Her amused smile told him she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. Eyes twinkling, she shook her head at him. He was pleased to see a hint of the playfulness she used to show him in bed.

  “Aye, ’tis much too soon,” he agreed. Sighing dramatically, he fell beside her and took her in his arms.

  “It is good to be here with you like this,” he said, and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured, squeezing closer.

  She gave him an openmouthed kiss that made him forget his name. As they kissed, he slid his hands between her legs. It took the breath out of him when he felt how hot and wet she was. She would kill him for certain. She pressed against him as if wanting to melt into him.

  Keeping his hand on her, he eased himself down on the bed until he could take her breast in his mouth. When he did, he heard her sharp intake of breath. He loved to hear the sounds she made. He slowly slid his finger in and out of her as he flicked his tongue over her nipple, listening to the change in her breathing.

  His heart pounded in his ears as he sucked harder, and she moaned and moved against his hand. At first, he ignored her insistent pull on his shoulders. He was set on bringing her to release the first time before he entered her. But when she persisted, he obeyed.

  Hovering over her, he gave her a long wet kiss. When she wrapped her legs around him, the battle was lost. He slid deep inside her in one forceful stroke.

  Good God! The rush that went through him blinded him and left him shuddering. It was all he could do to stop himself from spilling his seed at once. He found her mouth. Their tongues slid together as he moved back and forth against her as slowly as he could bear.