England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Like a stone wall gradually succumbing to the inevitably more powerful force, the dog-man’s fear and resistance dissolved stone by stone. Gaithlin was purposely flaunting the cheese, knowing that he would come to trust the hand that fed him. Like any living being, trust had to be earned and she fully intended to acquire his faith with her gentle manner and non-threatening actions. Then, she was positive, communication would follow.

  Christian watched with baited breath as the first chunk of yellow cheese met with the dog-man’s filthy mouth. Gaithlin laughed softly as the man chewed vigorously, promptly breaking off another piece when he opened his mouth for more. With every piece of cheese, a stone in the canine-human’s wall smashed to pebbles; the more she fed him, the further relaxed he became. And the closer Gaithlin came to triumph.

  Christian watched, hands on hips, as Gaithlin fed the captive the entire wedge of yellow cheese. It was almost like observing a mother bird feed her young; the gaping mouth, the weak whimpers, as bits of food were delivered. When the prisoner had completely devoured the hearty nourishment, Gaithlin retrieved a cup of water from the smaller iron pot and the man drank greedily.

  Exceedingly calm for an individual who had been snapping and growling not a few minutes before, the dog-man’s expression on Gaithlin was almost curious as she knelt before him once again. Christian continued to watch, amazed with her achievement, as she attempted once more to communicate.

  But it was a frustrating progression. The captive obviously did not understand spoken language, as Christian had suggested, and Gaithlin did her best through use of signs and gestures to convey her message; no more stealing, if food is desired simply ask, and no lurking in the thicket with the intention of spying.

  By the time she was finished, she could tell by the reflection in the dog-man’s eyes that he had not understood a word of what she had been attempting to convey. Frustrated and disheartened, she rose to her feet and continued to gaze down upon the captive, wondering how on earth she ever could have thought to make him understand.

  She should have listened to Christian from the first and saved herself the frustration and heartache. He had been correct regarding Malcolm’s sleeping arrangements, and he had further proved his superiority by passing the proper assessment regarding the dog-man’s intelligence. The prisoner was obviously beyond her help and several minutes of futility and confusion had made her fully cognizant of the fact.

  Yet, the natural instinct of hope ingrained within her soul had insisted she try, the inherent fortitude of strength and determination that had been instilled to her over years of hopelessness had come to demand she expend the effort. It simply wasn’t in Gaithlin’s nature to surrender; if there was even the smallest measure of hope, she had to try.

  When a thick warm arm went about her shoulders, she leaned gratefully against the accompanying torso. Christian gently kissed the top of her head. “You tried, honey. At least he is calm now.”

  She shrugged, her head resting on his shoulder. “Release him, then. There is nothing left to accomplish if he cannot understand what I am saying.”

  Christian kissed her again before releasing her, moving back to the shelter to retrieve his dagger. Left alone with the shivering, fed prisoner, Gaithlin shook her head sadly.

  “Don’t you understand me?” she whispered. “I am trying to be your friend. I want us to live peaceably.”

  The man continued to stare at her and she felt as if she were speaking to an animal; the wide-eyed, blank stare was enough to cause her to turn away in sorrowful defeat. The next time the fool and his wife returned to raid their encampment, she would be unable to protect them against Christian’s wrath. Clearly, there would be no other alternative. Still… she had tried.

  Christian emerged from the shelter moments later with a sleepy-eyed lad in tow. Malcolm smiled brightly at Gaithlin, who managed a weak grin of her own as she brushed her hand affectionately over his stubbled head. Then, she put her arms about the boy’s shoulders as Christian moved for the dog-man, cutting his rigid bindings in one swift motion.

  At first, the man didn’t move; his eyes were wide on both Gaithlin and Christian as he came to realize that he was no longer bound to the tree. Gaze darting frantically between the two blond-haired people, he straightened stiffly and sniffed the air a few times as if attempting to determine their motives purely by the scents they were excreting.

  With a loud yelp that startled Gaithlin and Malcolm, he suddenly dashed behind the pine he had been adhered to, peeking out from behind as if to spy on his former captors. The three rational humans continued to observe him curiously as he rounded the tree a couple of times, clutching at the trunk and sniffing the bark strangely. Then, when Malcolm began to giggle as a result of the dog-man’s mystifying antics, the captive dashed off into the trees in a series of whoops and screams.

  Even Gaithlin was grinning by the time the peculiar man cavorted off. “What on earth was that all about?”

  Christian shook his head. “I could not begin to guess. But I would venture to say that he is happy to be free.”

  As Gaithlin nodded, Malcolm suddenly broke from her grip and dashed towards the smoldering embers of “his” fire. “What’s ta eat? I’m hungry!”

  “You are on the menu,” Christian said with mock-severity, fighting off a grin when Gaithlin swatted at him on her way back to the shelter. “I intend to make a Malcolm Stew.”

  Once, the jesting declaration would have sent the young lad into fits of terror. But coming to know the warlord as he had over the past few days, Malcolm realized the man took great delight in taunting him. And he loved every minute of it.

  “Ye haveta catch me first!” he declared.

  Christian’s eyebrows rose at the challenge. “Is that so? We shall see how fast you can run, then.”

  Malcolm whooped and giggled as Christian moved toward him. “I can run as fast as th’ wind!”

  “A bold statement,” Christian countered with mock-outrage. “I would wager to guess that you cannot outrun my charger.”

  Inside the shelter, Gaithlin cleaned herself up for the day ahead, listening to Malcolm’s delightful terror and Christian’s low threats. Donning Carolyn Howard’s gown of dual-colored linen, a persimmon bodice and skirt with a contrasting color of pale peach, she braided her hair into a single thick rope and secured the end with a measure of twine.

  Emerging from the shack in anticipation of a pleasant day, she was not surprised to find that Christian and Malcolm’s game had ended in an intent huddle over the large iron pot. Secured to the tripod, the ingredients that Malcolm had combined at Christian’s direction were beginning to simmer over the open flame. Gaithlin leaned over the pot, eyeing the contents.

  “What have you fine gentlemen made?”

  “Porridge,” Malcolm said proudly.

  Christian’s massive hand rested affectionately on the lad’s bald head. “And then we shall grind some of the wheat into flour for tomorrow’s bread.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Tomorrow? Why not today?”

  He matched her raised brow. “Because we will not be here to enjoy it. Tomorrow, upon our return, ’twill be a fine meal of fresh bread to greet us.”

  “I don’t understand. Why won’t we be here to enjoy our bread today?”

  Christian’s hand left Malcolm’s head; suddenly, Gaithlin’s entire face was encompassed by two great palms and the familiar surge of delicious excitement fired through her slender body. Licking her lips, she waited with quivering anticipation for Christian’s delectable kiss and was mildly disappointed when he seemed content for the moment to stare deeply into her eyes.

  “Because we will be traveling to an abbey, south of Castle Douglas along the Firth of Solway,” his rich voice was a sensuous growl. When Gaithlin’s eyebrows rose questioningly, he continued with a faint smile. “You see, my lady, I am no longer content to lie beside you at night, forbidden by your logic to devour my fill of your luscious body. Since you wish to wait for
our marriage before you relinquish your innocence, I have decided that tonight will see this matter accomplished.”

  A flicker of a smile danced across her rosy lips. “We will be married today?”

  “Indeed. As I told you, ’twas always my intention to marry you immediately. The sooner we return to Eden as man and wife, the sooner we can settle the foolish boundaries of the Feud.”

  Her smile broadened as her hands came up, joy such as she had never experienced filling her heart. The warmth, the delight, was beyond the expression of mere words; Merciful Heavens, how she was desperate to show him the emotions churning within her heart.

  She thought herself a fool for having ever resisted his proposal. It was no longer merely the issue of joining two families that had known nothing but the devastation of war for the past seven decades; whether or not peace came as a result of their union was no longer a concern to her. What mattered was that she and Christian would be married, forever of one soul and heart and body. Forever to live as man and wife, no matter what the future contained.

  She was so happy she could scarcely contain her emotions. There would be nothing else on the earth that would every cause her to experience more joy than she was sampling at this moment, and as Christian’s ice-blue eyes blazed against the flushed vision of her beautiful face, she wound her hands behind his thick neck.

  “I want to be your wife, Christian,” she breathed, her eyes riveted to his sensual lips as they loomed closer and closer with each successive moment. “I want to be all to you.”

  “You already are all to me,” his voice was husky, feeling her need and excitement as it mingled with his own. “Haven’t you realized that by now?”

  She nodded unsteadily, feeling his deliciously searing breath on her face. Merciful Heavens, the nearer he beckoned, the hotter she became. What had started as a joyful demonstration of their mutual agreement had suddenly encroached into the familiar territory of lust and desire. A raging wildfire that neither one could manage to control.

  His lips clamped down upon her tender mouth, whimpers of passion and pleasure filling the air. Tongues met with natural ease, tasting the recognizable essence captured within their individual qualities as they licked and plundered and ravished. Fingers tightly embedded within his honey-blond tresses, Gaithlin was rapidly losing what was left of her draining senses.

  “Oh, Christian,” she gasped against his mouth. “I don’t want to wait until tonight. I want to know you now. I want to show you the joy of my heart.”

  He suckled fiercely on her tongue, growling heavily in response to her plea. He was so overwhelmed with the taste and feel of her that he could barely form a coherent thought beyond lifting her from the ground and carrying her towards their shelter. If she wanted him now, then he would not dare dispute the boundaries of their earlier conversation; after all, they were to be married this day. What difference did it make if he took her before or after the ceremony?

  He would take her this morn. He would take her tonight. For the rest of their lives, she would be the Demon’s wife and he would take her every day until the sun forever ceased to shine. Good Christ, how he had waited for this moment.

  Kicking open the door of their shelter, he was barely cognizant when Gaithlin called breathlessly to Malcolm, diverting the lad’s attention with chores and instructions while the adults were left to their pleasure. Setting her to their pallet in a heat of passion, he wedged the ancient door closed before returning to Gaithlin with an expression she had seen many a time before. Only this time, it was far more potent.

  His red-swollen mouth worked as if he was attempting to speak, somehow offering the summation of his emotions. But he couldn’t seem to form the correct thoughts regarding the most monumental event of his life and without further ado, he moved across the brittle rushes and pulled Gaithlin against his chest with more tenderness than he ever knew to exist.

  Fastened to his wonderful lips, Gaithlin moaned softly as his hands moved to the stays of her gown, removing it from her supple body with deft experience. She was so consumed with the delight of his heated mouth that she was unaware when his hands left her, removing his tunic with such blind eagerness that he tore a seam. The boots and breeches immediately followed and before Gaithlin realized the extent of their naked state, she was on her back and completely covered by his massive body.

  Christian thought he might ease her natural apprehension with a few well-chosen words at this point; in fact, he had been practicing such words for precisely this event. But as the actual moment happed upon him, he was so selfishly involved in the feel of their naked flesh that the only sound capable of coming forth from his throat was an animalistic rumble.

  There was nothing that mumbled words could convey better than his tender touch was capable of expressing. His hands roved and caressed, probed and stroked, as Gaithlin writhed beneath him with her usual abandon, as if she had experienced his desire a thousand times before. Christian devoured every movement beneath him, savoring the motion, knowing that never in his life had he sampled anything so incredibly wondrous.

  His mouth found her beautiful breasts, lapping and suckling the tender fruits with the greatest of pleasure. He could feel Gaithlin’s fingers in his hair, urging him onward, demanding his attention, and he was so consumed with his own erotic lust that his hands were literally shaking as he explored every inch of her mouth-watering flesh.

  Gaithlin’s mind was focused on one thing; the only matter of concern was Christian’s gentle, powerful hands as they possessively kneaded her breasts and the anticipation of the erotic delights his mouth had yet to introduce. Unafraid of his lustful onslaught as a proper virgin should have been, it was not within her nature to fear; instead, she was inherently moved to the brink of expectation as his wicked attentions continued towards untapped depths.

  Yet in spite of her eagerness to experience his passion, she bolted when his fingers gently probed the blond triangle of curls between her legs. Passion somewhat damped by apprehension, her eyes fluttered open to find Christian wedged between her open thighs, breathing heavily as he gazed lustily upon her most private core.

  “Christian…,” she licked her dry lips, struggling to form a complete sentence capable of relaying her natural concern.

  He tore his eyes away from her delightfully pulsating blossom, meeting her cat-shaped eyes. “Trust me, honey,” he rasped, running his hands the length of her torso until he came to her breasts. Fondling gently, he relished in her sighs of pleasure. “You must trust me. I have dreamed of this longer than you can know and I promise I shall be entirely gentle with you.”

  She shuddered violently when his fingers pinched her taut nipples and her eyes closed once more, her apprehension fading in lieu of the erotic anticipation. “How… how long?”

  Satisfied that she had relaxed once more, his hands left her breasts and moved to grasp her buttocks. “A long, long time. Months.”

  “Months?” her voice was barely a whisper. “We have only known each other a few days.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, smiling at the crystal-clear recollection of his nude water nymph on that searing August day. “I have dreamed of you every day since the first I saw you, wet and nude and uninhibited.”

  In spite of her lust-induced haze, Gaithlin managed to grasp the confusing gist of his words. “I… I wasn’t nude when you first saw me, Christian. True, I was wet, but… oh!”

  Her back arched up from the rushes as his tenderly probing fingers found her swollen bud of passion. He laughed softly as her legs quaked involuntarily to his gently erotic touch. “Aye, honey, you were nude.” He bent low, depositing a line of sweet kisses just above the border of kinky curls. “You were swimming in a lake. And I watched you through the shield of the forest, dreaming of the moment when I would be free to touch you as I am now.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, her eyes opened once more and she raised her head, gazing at him with suspicion and lust-hazed confusion. “You… you s
aw me swimming in a lake? When?”

  He grinned, kissing her groin once more as his fingers raked her dark-blond mat. “Well over a month ago. A lake in the disputed territories that you frequented regularly.”

  She stared at him, the flush of passion abruptly transforming into a mottle of embarrassment and anger. Suddenly, she propped herself up on her elbows and attempted to slide away from him, struggling to close her thighs. Gripping her legs tightly, Christian was not surprised with her outraged reaction; in fact, he had expected it.

  “You will tell me why you were spying on me, Christian St. John!” she demanded. “And why did you not tell me this before?”

  He held onto her knees tightly, wrestling with her strong legs as she struggled to pull free. “Truthfully, because I never saw the need to tell you. It didn’t seem to be a staunchly pressing matter.” When she drove her heel into his rock-hard thigh, he grunted with mounting irritation. “Gae, I didn’t even know who you were at the time. Quinton found you weeks before while on patrol and….”

  “Quinton?” she shrieked. “Who is this Quinton? Kelvin mentioned him as well!”

  “My brother,” Christian grunted again when she inadvertently kneed him in the ribs. “My younger, more foolish brother who was as enchanted by your magnificent beauty as I was.”

  She succeeded in yanking one leg free and twisted to her side. Christian released his hold on her remaining leg and threw himself forward, trapping her between his massive body and the wool of their pallet. Gazing at the profile of her flushed, furious, beautiful face, he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at her indignity. In spite of her justifiable anger, he refused to allow her violent mood to spoil his own pleasure; dipping his head, he began to rain gentle kisses upon her neck and shoulder.

  “Don’t do that,” she insisted hotly, squirming beneath him in an attempt to dislodge his massive weight. “You will not be forgiven so easily for this… this embarrassment. Tell me; why did you not think it a staunchly pressing matter to mention that you had spied on me?”