One Knight Enchanted: A Medieval Romance (Rogues & Angels Book 1)

by Claire Delacroix

  “I take thee, Annelise de Sayerne, to be my wedded wife...”

  Annelise made her vows in turn, her voice growing in conviction as she spoke.

  The lord slid his ring onto the middle finger of her left hand. It was heavy and still warm, a weight to remind her of her pledge. Annelise glanced up when he kept a grip on her hand, wishing she could see his eyes in this moment.

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” he said huskily. “With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow.”

  It was done.

  She was married.

  Annelise stared down at the ring, the red stone almost glowing in the moonlight, and thus missed her new husband’s quick movement.

  He caught her nape with one warm palm and pulled her in his embrace with gentle force. His kiss was gentle, cajoling, yet more resolute this time. He held her against his strength and she felt both cherished and protected.

  An unfamiliar longing was awakened within Annelise, its embers stoked to a flame as his kiss deepened. She found herself melting against him, surrendering to his touch, mimicking him and wanting more.

  So much more. She could feel no imperfections in his form, although something decidedly hard pressed against her hip. She ran her hands over his shoulders and soon forgot her exploration, for she liked the feel of him so very well.

  She tasted the hunger in him and knew that she was not powerless in this exchange. That, above all else, gave her hope for their future.

  Finally, he lifted his head and cupped her face in his hands. “Well, wife of mine,” he whispered. “Shall we retire to our nuptial bed?”

  Annelise had never expected she would be so willing so quickly, but she was. Her flesh tingled in the aftermath of his touch, and though she did not know precisely what would happen abed, she was anxious to learn more.

  She wanted his hands on her.

  She wanted his lips on her.

  She was a wanton of the first order, yet in this moment she did not care.

  Annelise nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her husband swung her into his arms and carried her back to the palace with such ease that she dared to hope he had no flaw at all.

  What if this might prove to be the match she had always desired?

  Annelise’s kiss had set Rolfe’s blood afire. That she had learned so quickly to mimic his movements, that she should so readily entice him with ardor was far more than he had expected.

  She would have him in her thrall if he were not cautious.

  Rolfe could think of nothing but the consummation before them as he carried her back to his favorite chamber. She kicked her feet playfully and stole glances at him, her expression a mix of anticipation and maidenly concern. He would see those fears banished and pleasure found in their stead.

  The palace offered an abundance of pleasures but he wished that they might have had a solid bed. There was nothing in his opinion that could compete with the comfort of a massive bed, rooted to floor and ceiling with four oaken pillars and hung with heavy draperies to block the cold. His parents possessed such a bed, and he had not seen the like since he had left for Outremer.

  It was at moments like this that Rolfe disliked the exotic tendencies of the palace. Likely, they would have to make do with cushions, leaving them with aching backs on the morrow.

  Even that prospect could not dampen his ardor. One night of loving—one night of loving a woman whose allure grew by the moment—and he would be free of the curse that bound him. Finally, it seemed that Rolfe’s good fortune had returned.

  He stepped into his favorite chamber and froze in his steps.

  To his astonishment, there was a bed precisely as he had imagined against one wall of the room. The tub and the low table where Annelise had eaten were both gone, although the fountain still danced in the moonlit courtyard beyond.

  He stared at the bed and Annelise slipped from his embrace. She crossed the chamber and gave one post a shake, as though she doubted the evidence of her own eyes. Then she turned to him, those eyes flashing. “How did you cause this to be here?” She gave the bed a hearty shove, then glanced back to Rolfe. “It is fixed to the floor as solidly as though they were made together. This was not here earlier. Is this the same room?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then how can this be?”

  Rolfe understood that it was because he had wished for it. He recalled the second djinn’s spell.

  And whether he feel good or ill,

  the palace shall reflect his will.

  How much could he wish for? Clearly, he could not wish to break the curse, and his desire to win Annelise’s agreement had not readily overcome her reluctance to wed him. This was a matter to be considered later, perhaps on the morrow when he could discuss it with Annelise.

  He did not dare to confide in her just yet.

  Not give the rest of the curse.

  “Servants,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I am fortunate to have some gifted ones here.”

  “Servants.” Annelise echoed, her doubt more than clear. She folded her arms across her chest and granted him a skeptical glance. “No servant, however diligent, could have built this bed in the time I was gone.”

  “Never underestimate the skill of a talented craftsman.” Rolfe felt the weakness of the argument but he had no other.

  Annelise’s lips tightened and he knew she would not abandon the issue so readily.

  Indeed, he looked forward to hearing what she would say.

  “Which reminds me,” she said with another survey of the chamber. “I have not noticed anyone here since I arrived. Not one other mortal soul.” She turned to look at Rolfe, her manner expectant. “Only horses. Where are your servants, sir?”

  “Oh, they are here. Perhaps you have not looked in the right places,” Rolfe replied. Unable to hold her gaze—even though he knew she could not see his own eyes—he turned to snuff the candles.

  There was a matter requiring their immediate attention. The more he spoke to Annelise, the more she intrigued him and the more he was tempted to confide in her. They had to break the curse as soon as possible.

  Annelise did not move, Rolfe noted. Nor did she undress. He paused before extinguishing the last candle. “Do you need assistance?”

  A gleam lit her eye. “Will you summon one of your servants to assist me?”

  Rolfe bit back a smile, knowing he should have anticipated her. “No. It is too late to trouble them.”

  “You are a thoughtful master.”

  “I do try.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “But it is evidently not too late for them to build a bed.”

  “It is precisely because of such diligent labor that I would let them rest now.”

  “Indeed,” Annelise murmured, eying the bed again.

  Rolfe saw that her concerns were returning, and knew they had to get to bed with all haste. “Perhaps I should help you disrobe.”

  The lady flushed scarlet. “I shall manage on my own. I am not accustomed to having a maid, after all.”

  Why not? Why would she not have a maid? Rolfe did not ask because he had no desire of more conversation.

  When Annelise did not make any move to unknot her laces or even remove her shoes, he prompted her again. “Are you going to disrobe, my lady?”

  Annelise lifted her chin and turned to face him. “If I cannot see you, sir, then be assured that you are not going to see me. I shall await the darkness. ”

  There was much to be said for the lady’s spirit. Rolfe smiled as he pinched the last wick and plunged the chamber into darkness. The moonlight did not illuminate beyond the courtyard, which defied belief.

  But then he realized that, too, was a mark of his will. He wished for complete darkness and so it was.

  He cast his cloak aside, discarding boots and shirt. The garments fell audibly to the floor.

  Annelise was breathing quickly, but he could not discern that she had undressed. “God in heaven, but it is dark,” she whi
spered, agitation in her tone.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked when he was beside her.

  “Of course not!”

  Rolfe said nothing, guessing that the heat of her reply meant otherwise. He waited, giving her the time she seemed to need.

  When the silence stretched between them, Annelise sighed. “I am, perhaps, a little uncertain, sir,” she acknowledged in a small voice that he already knew was uncharacteristic. “What exactly should I expect to happen this night?”

  Rolfe imagined that she had tilted her head to look where she thought he was, and he could easily picture her amber eyes bright with curiosity.

  He reached for her cheek and stroked it gently. “More like the kisses in the courtyard. Did you not enjoy them?”

  “I did. But the other...” Her voice faltered. “Will it hurt?” There was a slight tremor in her tone.

  Rolfe could think of nothing but reassuring her.

  He slid his fingers along her jaw and cupped her face in his hands. Her skin was softer than the finest silk. Rolfe could feel her racing pulse under his thumb and took encouragement from it.

  “It may hurt,” he murmured, brushing his lips across hers. She trembled but did not retreat or pull away. “But only for a moment if it does, and only this first time.” He felt Annelise swallow. “I vow to you that I shall be gentle.”

  “You like to make vows, sir.”

  “I like to keep them even better.”

  She took a quick breath. “Of course, for you are a knight.”

  “I am, lady mine.”

  He felt her straighten beneath his hands and his heart soared at her boldness.

  “And I am your lady wife,” she whispered. “I trust you in this, sir, and I will be your wife in every way by morning.”

  The conviction in her words stole the breath from Rolfe’s lungs. Her confidence touched him to his heart and redoubled his determination to do his utmost to please his Annelise.

  She would have no regrets. Rolfe would ensure as much.

  He bent and captured her lips, liking how she rose to her toes to meet him, and his surety that this match would be a good one grew stronger again.

  He would spend the night convincing his lady of the same.

  Chapter 5

  “I do not know what to do,” Annelise admitted when Rolfe broke his kiss.

  “Nothing,” he murmured against the softness of her cheek. “Simply enjoy.”

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly, and he felt the tension ease out of her shoulders. He took one himself, wanting to be sure to seduce her slowly.

  “Very good.” Rolfe whispered the words into her ear.

  Annelise shivered then giggled. “That tickles!”

  It was as good a place to begin as any. “And this?” Rolfe pressed a slow kiss into her ear. The lady quivered again, as he had guessed she would.

  “That is a tickle of a most wicked kind,” she said, her words breathless.

  “How so?”

  “It awakens something deep within me.”

  “Something good?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  To Rolfe’s surprise, this time it was Annelise who stretched to brush her lips across his. He liked that she wanted to participate and deepened their kiss, even as he planned how to encourage her. He trailed kisses down her cheek and she tipped her head back with a purr of satisfaction. He ran his teeth across her earlobe. “And this?”

  Annelise gasped. “I do not know what to call how that feels.”

  “Good or bad?”

  “Oh...” Her laugh was throaty. “More than good.”

  Her enthusiasm made Rolfe chuckle again. “Then perhaps we should try the other ear.” He took his time with that kiss, savoring the way she melted against his chest. The darkness made the scent of her skin seem more potent.

  More beguiling.

  Annelise locked her arms around his neck and kissed him fully, showing an expertise unexpected. He caught his breath that she learned so quickly. The night promised to be even more delightful than he could have imagined.

  Her breath tickled as it fanned his ear. “Good or bad?” she whispered, mischief in her tone.

  “More than good,” Rolfe growled, liking her playfulness as well. He ran his hands down her sides and feigned surprise. “You are still fully garbed, my lady.”

  As though she had just realized that he was not, Annelise’s hands moved from Rolfe’s neck to touch his bare skin. Her fingers fanned out as she tentatively ran her hands across his shoulders. Rolfe let her explore, sensing that she needed to know something about him before they were intimate.

  He heard her take a deep breath as her hand slid downward. When she found the mat of his chest hair, she bounced her fingers playfully upon it, then slid them through its tangle.

  “Furry,” she pronounced, then skimmed her fingertips over his nipples. Rolfe inhaled sharply at her light touch and Annelise, noting his reaction, paused to caress his nipples. “You like this,” she whispered.

  “As I expect do you.” Rolfe cupped her breast in one hand, then teased the nipple with his fingertips. Even through the heavy woolen cloth, he felt it tighten to a peak.

  “So I do,” Annelise admitted, then stepped back from him, her hands stroking him. Rolfe closed his eyes, awash with pleasure from her touch. Her fingertips eased lower, where the hair thinned near his waist, then halted at the drawstring of his chausses.

  She hesitated.

  “My turn,” Rolfe whispered. Before Annelise could protest, he bent and rapidly unlaced the sides of her kirtle. He lifted the garment over her head and cast it aside, then the chemise she wore beneath it. The warmth of her skin greeted his exploring fingertips and he slid his hands over her upper arms.

  “Your hair,” he whispered, knowing that he would never find all the pins in the darkness. Rolfe heard them tinkle to the floor as she removed them quickly, then the heavy mass of her hair fell over her shoulders and his hands.

  It was thick and almost straight. Rolfe could imagine the shimmer of it and remembered its rich auburn color. He buried his hands in its thickness, then pulled her into his embrace.

  With those amber eyes, she should be garbed in emerald green, in samite and satin heavy with golden embroidery. She needed veils of the finest cloth of gold to highlight the richness of her coloring.

  Indeed, her worn travel garments scarcely did her credit. With such vivacity and life, Annelise dressed as a queen would be a stunning sight.

  The fullness of her breasts pressed against his chest as he explored her. Her waist was delightfully narrow under his hands, her curves ripe enough to fill his hands. Rolfe’s heart leaped when her hair moved over his hands, evidence that she had tilted her head back. He bent and captured her tempting lips beneath his own, swallowing her sigh of satisfaction.

  Rolfe kissed her gently, savoring her. He felt Annelise catch her breath, then caressed her bottom lip with his tongue. She parted her lips, welcoming him, and Rolfe sampled her deeply, loving the taste of wine mingled with her own honeyed sweetness.

  She was all sweet curves and femininity, her skin soft no matter where he touched her. Rolfe kissed her leisurely and thoroughly, taking his time with the feast she offered. Annelise was his wife and his salvation both. He could give her no less than his all.

  His hand moved in her hair, caressing her jaw, tracing the curve of her ear. Annelise shuddered and her hands locked around his neck. He lifted her to her toes, cupping her buttocks with one hand and pulling her against the heat of his arousal. She moaned softly and rolled her hips against him with a need that thrilled him.

  Desire surged through Rolfe. He kissed Annelise with new fervor, fearing he would spill his seed early if she rolled her hips again, but he could not step away. He would have liked to have seen her but the darkness was complete.

  “Oh,” Annelise whispered as her lips moved against his throat. Her voice was unsteady.

  It amused Rolfe that this woman of so many wo
rds could only conjure that one small exclamation to describe this. “Oh?” he repeated with a smile.

  “I...I had no idea.”

  Rolfe could not help but chuckle at the wonder in her voice. The affection he already felt for her surprised him with its intensity. Rolfe could not recall ever being so aware of a woman so quickly before.

  “And still you have not, wife of mine,” he murmured. “We have only begun.”

  He bent quickly and took one of her feet in his hands. It was so slender and small, so delicate compared to his own, that he halted for a moment in silent appreciation.

  Annelise’s hands landed on his shoulders, and Rolfe quickly unlaced her shoe. He discarded it, noting with interest that she did not wear hose.

  She had been in a hurry to seek him out. That made him smile.

  Her foot fit perfectly in his palm and Rolfe could not resist caressing its arch. The darkness served only to heighten his awareness of her.

  The other shoe was shed and Rolfe paused with both hands wrapped around the lady’s graceful ankles. He glanced up and her fingers dug slightly into his shoulders.

  “There must be more,” she whispered, her impatience urging him on.

  Rolfe eased his hands slowly up her calves, feeling the shape of her. His lips followed suit, tasting and caressing as he progressed. Had she worn stockings, he would have removed her garters with his teeth.

  Her thighs were slender, and when he approached her hips, the sweet perfume of her arousal tempted him. That mingled with the scent of the roses was more intoxicating than the finest wine. Rolfe filled his lungs with the heady scent and caressed her as his lips meandered onward.

  She gasped when he reached the apex of her thighs and Rolfe buried his nose in the nest of curls. His tongue danced against her and he knew he had found the prize he sought when Annelise gripped his shoulders.

  “Oh!” she gasped. “Sir!”

  Rolfe pulled her closer, one of his fingers rising to caress her even as he continued to tease her with his tongue. Her enthusiasm fed his own passion as nothing else could. He wanted more of Annelise; he wanted all of her. He wanted to make her collapse on top of him. He wanted to feel her wrap herself around him and demand more. He wanted to hear her cry out as she found her release and know that he was responsible. He felt her skin heat and her pulse race. A quiver passed over her flesh, but she did not pull away.