Knights of Valor

by Denise Domning

  Slane slid his hand across her neck and dipped his fingers beneath her tunic, almost ripping it in his hurry, in his craving, to feel her flesh. When his fingers encircled the delicate, sensitive rise of her breast he felt her arch toward him, gasping for breath. Her knees came up at the sides of his body, her womanly core pressing tight against his manhood. Slane dipped his head to her neck, tasting her skin, wanting her with an urgency he had never felt for anyone else.

  Taylor moved her hips against his. She responded to his caress with a deep groan that inflamed Slane's already combustible senses. He slid to the side of her body, pressing kisses down her throat to the tip of her tunic. He moved his hand out of her clothing and over her flat stomach, across the planes of her belly, to the bottom of her tunic, which had gathered dangerously close to her womanhood. He moved his hand to the bottom of the cloth, feeling a heat emanating from beneath the fabric of her leggings as his fingers touched the very edge of the tunic. Then he dipped his hand lower. He touched the inside of her thigh, letting one finger roam close enough to her womanhood to feel her shudder. The smell of her raw lust permeated her leggings and he let the sweet aroma fill him, let the intoxicating scent of her possess his senses.

  Slane moved his hand up to the top of her leggings. She placed a trembling hand over his, halting his movement. Confused, he looked into her eyes.

  "You don't know what you're doing," she whispered in a husky voice.

  His confusion vanished and a dark grin came to his lips. "I know exactly what I'm doing," he whispered in a silky voice before his hand slipped inside her leggings. He moved his fingers closer to the wetness of her womanhood and touched the soft curls of hair that kept her pearl hidden. Her womanly hair caressed his fingers with whispery, silky softness as he moved through them, easing his way toward the moist petals of her womanhood. He reached the delicate folds and parted them. And then he touched the precious jewel that lay hidden beneath. The sweet sound of her gasping breath, the gentle curve of her arching back, did indeed show that he knew exactly what he was doing.

  Taylor couldn't have stopped him if she wanted to. But the only thing she wanted was more of him, more of his touch. Shivers of pleasure peppered her skin and passion pounded through her veins as he expertly stroked her to heights of rapture.

  Slane removed his hand from her womanhood and was surprised and gratified to hear a groan of objection. Slowly, he began to undress her, lifting her tunic up over her flat stomach, past her slim rib cage and over her breasts. He bent his head to the mounds, worshiping her flesh with light kisses. He eased the tunic over her head without taking his lips from the peaks of her breasts. His tongue swirled over the rosy tips, across the hardened pebbles of her nipples.

  Taylor gasped, her mind swirling end over end, her world tilting on its axis.

  Slane's lips returned to claim Taylor's, buffeting them until she was breathless. His hands skimmed the sides of her body to her waist and tugged down her leggings. His kisses traveled over her throat and down to the valley between her breasts as he pushed the leggings from her body.

  When he had freed her body of her clothing, he gazed down at her with adoration. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Quickly, he yanked his shirt from his torso.

  Taylor watched the unveiling of his glorious body. Like a curtain being swept aside, his tanned chest was revealed, gleaming like bronze in the rising sunlight. Muscles lined his exquisite frame, and more planes of muscle contoured his stomach. She had never seen a more handsome man. When he slid his leggings from his legs, she marveled at the stark power in them.

  He leaned over her, holding himself above her with his hands for a long moment, simply gazing down into her eyes. She reached out to him, running her hands along his arms, his shoulders and into his hair.

  He lowered himself to her, and Taylor inhaled sharply as his chest touched her bare breasts, the peaks tingling with pleasure. Then his body covered her like a warm blanket. She felt something touch her most intimate core and knew what it was. She opened her legs, trying to feel him against her, to be closer to him.

  Slane almost exploded at her invitation. His member lurched forward and found a hot wetness waiting for it. She wanted him as much as he did her. He groaned at the realization. He reached down and touched her core again, opening it. She raised her hips and he eased himself into her.

  He felt her stiffen and stopped, pulling back to gaze at her face. Could it be? he wondered. Could she be a virgin? He kissed her lips with a powerful hunger, one close to starvation, and then trailed hot, wet kisses down her neck. He caressed one of her breasts with teasing feather strokes until she relaxed again.

  He slid the rest of the way into her, penetrating her completely.

  She gasped and thrust gently, tentatively. He answered her plea and began to move. Slowly at first, and then their tempo increased as she matched his moves, thrusting against him. A swirling ecstasy built inside her, until she thought she could take no more. He touched her breasts, kneading, squeezing, and kissed her neck with hot liquid caresses. Her desire rose to peaks of pulse-pounding passion, swirling past the stars to a heaven she had never known existed. Then he kissed her lips with a fierce possessiveness that sent her exploding toward the heavens. Shattering into a million twinkling lights, she lingered in those heavens for a long moment until she fell toward the earth like a shooting star, burning like a fiery inferno. Finally, she lay still beneath him, breathless.

  Slane stared down at her in disbelief. He had thought she was beautiful before, but that was nothing compared to the vibrant creature beneath him. Her cheeks were rosy and bright, her breath now easing from her lips in a sweet rhythm of contentment. She was more than he could have possibly imagined. She was everything he could ever want. And with that one thought, he lunged into her, again and again until his own world erupted in a rapture to rival hers. He stiffened, releasing his seed into her, holding her tightly, binding them body and soul.

  Slowly, reality penetrated his mind. He felt the night's breeze cooling his heated skin. He heard his horse whinny in the distance. Birds clattered somewhere to his right. But mostly, he could feel Taylor's breasts crushed to his chest, her flat stomach pressed to his, his manhood sheltered in her warmth. Slowly he withdrew from her, rolling onto his side.

  Taylor didn't want to open her eyes; she was sure it had all been a dream. She felt... safe somehow. It was silly and ridiculous but she felt sated and warm and…

  She opened her eyes. The blackness of the night sky had burned away, replaced by the red of the rising sun. She felt the soft grass beneath her back, heard a soft whinny, and turned her gaze. In the distance, Slane's horse stood, eating the grass.

  She turned to look at Slane. He was staring at her with a small grin on his face.

  "What?" she asked defensively.

  "You're beautiful," Slane whispered.

  Taylor was unprepared for the honesty in his voice. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks and had to look away from him.

  His low rumble of laughter shook her body. "You don't take compliments too well."

  "Sorry. That wasn't something Jared taught me," she retorted, grabbing for her tunic.

  But Slane was quicker. He snatched it off the ground and moved it out of her reach. "And did he teach you how to kiss like that?" he wondered in a strangely dark voice. "Or how to respond to a man's touch like that?"

  "Of course not," she said, lurching for her tunic.

  Slane easily moved it out of her grasp. "Then someone else taught you?"

  "No," she said, dropping her hand. Her eyes got a faraway look to them as she remembered. "There was one man, or rather boy, who came close. But I just didn't trust him." She snorted. "It's a good thing I didn't. He was a liar and a thief."

  "There were no others?" Slane wondered.

  Something in his voice pricked her nerves and she lifted her head. He hadn't known! He had thought she had slept with other men!

  Slane scowled. "I'm... You
've never..."

  Taylor shook her head slowly. He'd regret what he'd done now. He'd turn away from her. "No. There was no one before you." She steeled herself against his rejection.

  But there was no rejection. His look softened with tenderness. There was possessiveness in his stare, and something else, something she didn't recognize. A crooked grin curved his lips and he leaned forward to plant a kiss against her cheek.

  She lifted her eyes to lock gazes with his. He was so close to her that she felt the heat of his breath fan her lips. He reached out to her, drawing her to him, engulfing her in a tight embrace.

  Shocked, Taylor couldn't reciprocate. She let him hug her, feeling the warmth of his body seep into her own. She felt the caress of his cheek against the top of her head.

  Finally, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, nervously, as if she was afraid he would vanish and she would be alone again. They sat that way for a long moment, the glow of the morning light reaching out to touch their entwined bodies.

  An ache filled Taylor, starting in her chest and encompassing her entire body. She had a feeling, a strange feeling this would be the last time she and Slane would ever be together. She pulled back to gaze in his eyes, stroking his hair, touching his face, trying to memorize this moment. She had never felt anything like this. She wanted to stay with him, be a part of his life.

  "I have to bury your father," Slane whispered. "You don't have to go back."

  "I'll go with you," she said.

  Slane touched her cheek softly, then bent and kissed her lips. He held her tunic out to her.

  Taylor took it and slipped it over her head. Slane pulled on his leggings, and Taylor donned her own. She reached for a boot but cast Slane a look over her shoulder. He was staring at her with a serene look. She straightened and looked askance at him. But then, the look was gone and Slane was smiling, reaching for her.

  The horse whinnied in the distance as Slane chuckled, pulling her against him, kissing her neck. But every instinct in Taylor flared to life. She went as still as a rock.

  Slane eased his hands from her. "What is it?" he wondered.

  Taylor listened hard, but there was no noise. The birds, the forest around them was still, silent in warning.

  "Slane," she cautioned, her gaze searching the trees around them.

  Slane followed her gaze. He stood, pulling her up beside him, holding her protectively by his side.

  Every instinct in Taylor's body told her to get her weapon. Her stare shifted to Slane's horse. Where the devil is my steed? she wondered. Her sword was on her horse! She scanned the clearing, but there was no sign of him.

  She moved toward Slane's horse, but Slane caught her wrist. "What?" she asked, lifting her gaze to his. But he was staring at something directly before them.

  She swiveled her head to see a line of black-clad men heading toward them. Some held bows and arrows aimed at them; others clutched swords. She froze as she spotted one man walking ahead of the rest. He was dressed all in black, his dark cape swirling out behind him in the breeze, looking like a bat's wing. An ugly, gleeful smile filled his thin lips and his dark eyes. "Corydon," Slane snarled.

  Hatred burned in Taylor's veins as she stared at the man dressed in black. She scanned the ground for a weapon of some sort, but there was nothing. Not even an old log. Here she was, face-to-face with Jared's killer, barely clothed and completely unarmed. She watched Corydon approach with narrowed eyes. Then she suddenly jerked forward toward him, her fist drawing back to strike.

  Slane immediately grabbed her raised wrist and pulled her protectively to him, placing his body in front of hers to shield her from Corydon's lascivious gaze and her own impulsive actions.

  "He killed Jared!" Taylor hissed.

  "It will do you no good to get yourself killed," Slane snapped back.

  Only then did her gaze shift to the archers to see their strings pulled taut, their arrows targeted on her chest.

  "I have been looking for you forever, my dear," Corydon said to Taylor. "What a joy it was to finally come upon you here." He chuckled lustily. "What an absolute pleasure. Your little love notes were quite helpful. I was so disappointed when they stopped."

  Taylor moved to step around Slane, but he halted her, seizing her wrist in his fingers.

  Corydon glanced toward the smoldering castle. "When you disappeared, I had to come up with another plan."

  Slane's gaze followed Corydon's; then disbelief and contempt curled his lips. "It was you," Slane hissed. "You burned the village and the castle."

  Taylor felt ice freeze her blood. The utter destruction and devastation she had seen was Corydon's doing. Not only had he murdered the only true friend she had ever had, but hundreds of innocent people as well.

  "I knew you of all people would come charging to the rescue, bringing our lovely prize with you." His dark gaze shifted to Taylor. "Here I was ready to lay siege to the castle and wait for you to arrive when all I had to do was knock and convince your poor old father that you were my prisoner." Corydon chuckled softly, running his black-gloved hand over his mustache.

  Taylor's back slowly straightened in dread. Surely, her father would not have been stupid enough to fall for such a ploy.

  "I must say, I was rather surprised at how much you meant to your father. Had I realized how easy it was to gain control of Sullivan Castle I would have done it much sooner."

  "You bastard," Slane whispered. "You killed helpless people!"

  Corydon shrugged his black-caped shoulders. "I only burned the village and the castle to get your attention. Rebuilding is simple compared with finding one woman. A woman who was far too dangerous to let escape. The heir to Sullivan lands couldn't be left to roam the countryside, or join forces with one of my enemies, eh, Donovan? Now stand aside and let me have my prize."

  Remorse and despair washed over Taylor. Even though she had tried to put her lineage behind her and forget her past for the last eight years, it rose like a specter to haunt her. Her noble position was the cause of all this death and destruction. It was because of her, because of what she was born to, that so many had lost their lives.

  "She means nothing to you now! Her home is burned. Her father is dead."

  "But she is still alive. She poses a threat," Corydon said. "Besides, she might be worth much more than I could have possibly hoped. Look at the way you're protecting her. And the romp the two of you just had. Why, one might think you had feelings for her."

  Taylor saw Slane stiffen, saw his hands tighten to balled fists. She placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. "It will do no good to get yourself killed," Taylor whispered to him.

  But her words had no effect on him. His muscles bunched beneath her fingers, refusing to release the anger and tension knotting them.

  Slane studied Corydon for a long, tense moment. The two nobles stared each other down, their dislike for each other clearly visible in the mutual disdain etched into their features.

  "Corydon. I've a proposition for you," Slane finally said.

  Corydon held up his hand, stifling his laughter. "Please don't bore me with 'take my life instead.'"

  "Not quite," Slane said. "A fight. You and I."

  Corydon straightened, his dark gaze snapping to Slane. They locked gazes for a long moment.

  "To the death," Slane added.

  Taylor's heart lurched.

  "It's what you want," Slane urged.

  "A fight you say?" Corydon echoed thoughtfully.

  "Right here. Right now. Me against you. If you win, you get Taylor and I will be dead. If I win, we'll go free."

  "Slane," Taylor gasped, fear gripping her heart.

  At Corydon's hesitation, Slane added, "What's wrong, Corydon? Are you afraid?"

  A slow smile slipped across Corydon's lips. "This is an opportunity too good to pass up. Very well. I accept your challenge." He turned away and began to remove his cape.

  Slane turned to Taylor. "No matter what the outcome," he whispe
red to her, "you take off for those woods. Do you understand?"

  "No," she gasped. "Don't do this. You don't have to."

  Slane lifted his eyes to hers. "What other option do I have?" he asked gently.

  Taylor stared into his blue eyes. "My honor isn't worth defending. It's a losing battle."

  "I don't give a rat's ass about your honor right now," Slane said, smiling softly. He ran a finger along her cheek. "I'm defending your life." Their gazes locked and held. Then Slane turned away to look at his horse, to look for his sword.

  That was when Taylor saw Corydon approach, his sword raised high. "Slane!" she warned.

  Slane shoved her hard out of the way. Taylor recovered quickly, rolling to her side to see Slane duck Corydon's swing and move away from the deadly blade.

  "He doesn't have a weapon!" Taylor shouted.

  Corydon stood over Taylor, an amused glint in his gaze. "He said right here, right now."

  "You have to give him a weapon! What kind of fight would it be without one?"

  Corydon turned back to Slane. "The best kind, my dear. The kind where I win."

  Slane cursed himself for being a fool. He should have seen Corydon's trickery coming. He knew the man couldn't be trusted. But Slane would have done anything to give Taylor a chance to escape. Now he faced his most dreaded enemy, half naked and weaponless.

  Corydon approached slowly, confidently, a taunting grin stretching his thin lips. "Your weapon is well out of reach. Surrender to me now and I'll make your death quick."

  Slane's eyes narrowed. He glanced at Taylor to see her rising to her feet. She was so small and fragile compared to Corydon. He would never let Corydon get his hands on her. Just the idea of Corydon thinking about touching Taylor made Slane savage with anger. He couldn't lose this fight. Taylor's life depended on it.

  Corydon swung and Slane sidestepped, barely avoiding the sharp blade. He had to concentrate on the battle before him, not on Taylor's escape. He focused his effort and his gaze on Corydon. If only he could get the sword from Corydon somehow.

  Corydon feinted left and swung right. Slane easily avoided the move. Slane dodged the blows until Corydon arced one toward his head. Slane stepped into the swing and grabbed Corydon's wrist, stopping the strike mid-swing.