A Hard Day's Knight

by Cate Masters

  As if frozen in time, Gwyn didn’t move, eyes wide. Her lips parted, and something glimmered inside her mouth. It flowed from Gwyn to Morgan in a band of light. Her spirit! Lance’s heart wrenched, but the force of whatever Morgan hit him with weighed on his chest like a boulder.

  Gwyn slumped to the sand in a lifeless heap.

  In a frenzy of grief, Lance lost his mind. “No.” He closed his eyes, then popped them open, searching for the Harley.

  Morgan circled Gwyn, preening herself.

  He might escape her notice. Dragging himself across the sand required a Herculean effort. Focusing his mind, he willed every cell of his body to move inch by inch to the motorcycle. Fingers closing around metal, he located his prize.

  “Come out, come out, Lancelot,” Morganna chanted in a singsong tone. “Time to play. Or should I say, pay.” Her voice hardened on the last word.

  “Not this time, witch.” He lunged at her with his sword, the only prize he’d saved from his old life. A prize given to him by Merlin, forged in the same fire that wrought Excalibur, and imbued with magical elements by the wizard himself. In the centuries since Morgan le Fay had wrought her curse, he’d hoped to have the chance to use it.

  Not having wielded it since Merlin presented it to him, Lance curled his hand around its hilt, lifted it to remind himself of its heft. Why had Morganna chosen now to return? Because of Gwyn. That has to be the reason. At his realization, the sword gleamed in the night as if reflecting moonlight, but no moon shone.

  Fear widened Morganna’s eyes at the sight of it, and she hissed, “No.”

  Whatever held him bound suddenly snapped him free. The burn in his veins cooled. “Yes.” Encouraged by her strange response, he attacked, slicing the blade through the air as he advanced.

  A shriek told him he’d sliced her. In a dark mist, Morganna’s image faded with an echoing cry.

  “Not yet.” He grasped her hair, pressing the blade to her throat. “Give me back my love.”

  “Gwyn? Or Guinevere?” Morganna hissed.

  The thought of regaining his dearest love clouded his mind, and the temptation to ask for Guinevere overwhelmed him. But no, the witch meant to deceive him. She’d return his love’s bones, and he’d be left with no one.

  He pressed the blade deeper. “Gwyn.”

  Morganna tsk’d. “Not your deepest, dearest love?”

  The centuries he’d roamed the world without Guinevere hadn’t dulled his love for her. But he knew now he had to move on. Gwyn had touched him like no other girl since Guinevere. The two shared so many qualities; he’d swear Gwyn was Guinevere reincarnated.

  Rather than causing him doubt, the witch had illuminated his heart. Lance still had the ability to love. He wouldn’t waste it.

  “I’ll do anything for Gwyn.” The girl who’d given her life for him. He’d return the favor if needed.

  Light poured from Morganna’s shrouded hand as it waved from the black mist then withdrew inside it. Beyond, Gwyn stirred, her moan almost inaudible.

  Turning, Lance loosened his grip for an instant. Long enough for Morganna to escape his grasp and disappear completely.

  He ran to her, and lifted her into his arms. “Gwyn?”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Lance.” Tenderness in her voice, until her eyes flared wide with fear. She gasped. “Is she gone?”

  Relief swept over him. “Yes, sweetness. Morganna is gone.”

  “Forever?” She clutched his shirt.

  Somehow, he doubted it. But now that he knew his sword contained untold power, he’d protect her. “I believe so. Are you all right?”

  “I will be.” Her eyes held his. “Did you mean what you said?”

  Had she heard? “What did I say?”

  Her face relaxed, an angelic peacefulness lending her skin a glow. “That you’d do anything for me.”

  A knight must be true to his word. Even if he hadn’t said it aloud, he’d never deny her. “Name it, and it’s yours.” He’d take great pleasure in fulfilling her every need.

  Her face quirked in a mischievous smile. “Teach me to fence. I want to be able to kick her ass if she ever shows up again.”

  My queen has finally returned, a warrior goddess. He smoothed her hair. “We’ll begin lessons tomorrow.”

  Her fingers edged inside his shirt. “What about tonight?”

  “Tonight, I’m going to take you home and put you to bed.”

  Her brow arched and she drew him closer. “I don’t want to sleep.”

  Oh, she truly was a siren. He’d enjoy bringing that side of her to life. “I said nothing about sleeping.” He leaned in to kiss her.

  Wariness cooled her heated eyes. “What about tomorrow?”

  He heaved a ragged breath. He’d already committed to teaching the workshop. He shrugged. “Ever been to Sedona?” His breath grew shallow, awaiting her response. She had the power to curse him again to loneliness. He wasn’t willing to spend another eternity without her, and would fight for her love until he’d won her, forever if need be.

  She grasped his head, her teasing lips reaching for his. “Home’s too far away. We need to finish what we started. Right now.”

  Thank the gods. Now Sedona wouldn’t feel like banishment.

  When their mouths met, he knew only her warmth. He matched the urgency in her kiss. No longer could he stop his hands from peeling away her gown, and laying her atop it on the desert floor. She tore at his jeans as he tasted her nipples. At his suckling, she arched her back. Unable to resist her body’s invitation, he fitted his knees astride hers, but hesitated. This was no longer merely a dream to torture him, but a tantalizing reality. His muscles strained against his skin, wanting all of her at once. The touch of her hand atop his as he guided himself inside tested his power of self-restraint.

  Other women had shared his bed, but never his heart; in his mind, it was always Guinevere’s body warming his. He moved slowly, taking the time to savor her, to make certain her pleasure equaled his own.

  The heat of her around his cock ignited long dormant fires. Moving as one, he held her gaze, her desire more intoxicating than mead, driving his passion to maddening heights.

  He murmured, “Give yourself to me, Gwyn. All of yourself.” As if in a fever, he revealed his need for her, how he dreamed of finding her. How this was so much better than any dream. How he’d never lose her again.

  At each uttering of his heart, her cries grew louder, filling the empty desert. Her breaths grew faster, and she clawed at his back, legs locked around his, opening to him. Finally, she called out, “Lance!”

  The explosion in his brain seared away time, melding past with present. Stars blazed overhead as he took his fill of her. When finally the moon smiled from another quadrant of heaven, he collapsed onto his side, cradling her. Out here, it was too easy to believe time had shifted back centuries. He wouldn’t fool himself into believing it, yet her earlier words still shook him. He’d only just begun to finish what he’d started, so very long ago.

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

  Multipublished, award-winning author Cate Masters loves stories with a dash of magic, mayhem and romance! Reviewers have described her stories as “so compelling, I did not want to put it down,” and “such romantic tales that really touch your soul.”

  When not spending time with her family, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com, Facebook, Goodreads and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.

  Cate loves to hear from readers. Email her at: cate.masters@gmail.com

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