A Knight in Central Park

by Theresa Ragan

  “He knew not of the people’s strife. ’Twas Harig’s doing when Sir Richard left to do the king’s bidding. I do not know when I fell in love with Sir Richard exactly,” Mary squeaked, wringing her hands as she spoke. “Love is not an emotion you can turn on and off at will. ’Tis just there like the air we breathe.” She gazed lovingly into Richard’s eyes. “There is naught that can cure the heart of its grasp once love has taken hold.”

  Alexandra rolled her eyes. “How could you love a man who snatches you unaware, leaving your house a fire. Grandfather could have been killed.”

  Mary looked devastated by the news.

  Richard frowned. “Harig was not ordered to stay behind and destroy your property. Message of the mayhem and destruction he caused came to me only days ago. Harig will be well punished for his deeds.”

  Sir Richard turned pleading eyes to Alexandra. “Mary confessed her love for me months ago, and yet she refused to come with me because of you. I felt I had no choice but to take her by force. But I swear before the king himself that I never intended for any harm to come to you or your family.”

  “So, this is my fault?” Alexandra said through gritted teeth. “This man,” she said to her sister, jabbing Joe in the arm, “risked his life to save Grandfather and me from the fire. If it were not for him who knows what Harig would have done to our brother. I shudder to think of it.”

  “I did not know,” Mary said, reaching out a hand to her, “I swear.”

  “’Tis my fault,” Sir Richard declared boldly, “and I shall send a dozen of my men to Brookshire to rebuild. Tell me what I can do to make this up to you?”

  Alexandra crossed her arms. “You can begin by putting a stop to the overtaxing of our people. They work their fingers to the bone, and for what? They can hardly keep their children fed or clothed. What of that?”

  Once again Sir Richard appeared genuinely appalled. “I had no idea. Clearly I need to visit my holdings more often. The matter will be remedied, I assure you.”

  Alexandra’s features softened as she placed her arms about her sister, whose tears were streaming freely now.

  “I should have told you of my feelings months ago,” Mary told her, “but you were always so busy. ’Twas never the right time.”

  Alexandra shook her head. “I never gave you the chance, so obsessed was I with the crops and whether or not the wheat would provide us enough money to send you off to London to be well schooled.”

  “I failed to realize your intentions,” Mary said.

  “’Twould seem you are not the only one who was keeping secrets,” Alexandra admitted, realizing she should have spoke to Mary of her plans.

  Mary wiped her eyes before she reached out and pulled Garrett into their tight circle, giving him a warm squeeze, making him both wince from pain and blush from embarrassment.

  “It might cheer you to know,” Mary said to Alexandra, “that Richard has provided me with many skilled tutors. Since arriving, I have devoted myself seriously to my studies. Not only have I learned the abacus, dear sister, I have made the acquaintance of geometry! And who would have guessed there to be such a long line of poets, orators, and philosophers?”

  Alexandra looked to Joe.

  He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

  Her gaze fell to the blood staining his clothes, and then back to his pale face. His legs wobbled just before he crumpled to the ground.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As the steel of the Sword must be tempered in fire and water, so must the soul of the Knight be tempered by adversity and compassion.

  —Unknown

  It wasn’t easy, but Joe sat up in bed. Somebody had dressed him in a long-sleeved tunic. The garment was soaked through with perspiration. He pulled it over his head, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his well-bandaged arm. The bed was layered with too many fur covers. He was thankful for the cool air coming through the arrow slits across the room.

  For an instant before waking, he thought his miraculous travels nothing but a dream, but then everything came back to him in a flash.

  He moved his legs over the feathered mattress, his bare feet brushing against the stone floor. He remembered the malicious look on the assassin’s face as they rolled on the ground. Joe was lucky to be alive. Moonlight filtered in through the arrow slits and narrow windows. His mouth was dry. He needed water. He stood, wobbled slightly as he set off to look about in the semi-dark for a pitcher of water. “Ow! Damn chair.”

  Somebody moved within that same chair. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark as he reached out blindly. He felt strands of silky hair...a woolen blanket...a shoulder. “Alexandra?”

  Startled, she jumped to her feet, the top of her head hitting his chin. Joe rubbed his chin and held back the curses begging to come forth.

  “Sir Joe, is that you?”

  “What’s left of me,” he managed.

  Her hand reached out for him in the dark, brushing against his groin, thigh, abdomen, arms. “You’re cold,” she said. “You best return to bed so I may check your wound.”

  “Another minute under all those furs and I would have been roasted alive.”

  She bent over to retrieve her woolen blanket and once again brushed against what was now his full-fledged erection. “God’s teeth, I am sorry,” she said, leaving the blanket. She cleared her throat and said softly, “I did not realize you carried a weapon whilst you slept.”

  “Handled properly,” he said, finding the pain from his injury quickly replaced by something much more promising, “you’ll find that my weaponry is hardly perilous.”

  Alexandra laughed, then reached out a hand, this time purposefully seeking him out. She would never have thought she would find a man’s body so wonderfully fascinating. God’s creation was indeed extraordinary, she thought, as she ran her fingers down his rigid shaft, surprised by its unyielding hardness. “Mayhap to you it is not dangerous because you are familiar with its behavior,” she said.

  He stifled a moan. “It’s not an animal, Alexandra. It won’t sit or roll over.”

  “Then why,” she asked playfully as her fingers explored, “does it stand ever at attention, awaiting my orders like a lovesick pup?”

  He released a long, shuddering sigh. “Because he likes you,” he said as she continued her exploration, sliding her fingers tightly around its thickness until he let out a growl and gathered her into his arms, carrying her only a few steps back to the bed.

  “You are injured, and I do not wish to hurt you further,” she said when he placed her on the feather mattress.

  “Trust me when I tell you that all pain left me the moment I found you watching over me.”

  In the dimness of the room, Alexandra saw him as a silhouette, a dark shadow keenly watching her as he undressed himself and then her until they were equally bare. His hand fell upon her knee, climbing higher as he said, “It’s my turn to explore.”

  Her fingers clutched the furs beneath her so as not to give away the urgency she felt.

  “No resistance?” he asked. “No opposing defenses?”

  “Never,” she said, feeling breathless as his palm glided over her thigh, teasing her and making her yearn for more. She raised her hips the slightest bit, hinting for just that.

  Waves of excitement rippled through her body as he continued his exploration. She leaned her head back, inhaling deeply as his touch filled her with exhilaration. Never in this lifetime would she have dreamt that a man touching her so intimately could feel so pleasant, so freeing. She clutched the mattress as his hands continued their lovely assault. ’Twas difficult to breathe as her pleasure mounted. She was ready, and she wanted him inside of her. “Please,” she cried. “The beast...where is the beast?”

  She saw the gleam of his pearly white teeth as he smiled down upon her, teasing her further when he asked, “What is it you want, Alexandra?”

  “Do not tease. ’Tis cruel to do so. Lay claim to that which is presently yours, Sir Joe. I demand that you do
so.”

  He laughed, then moved himself over her, causing her to gasp in the darkness when he lowered his mouth to her warm flesh.

  She shuddered. “Oh, you do not play fair,” she said between heavy breaths as he lifted his head and then moved upward, bringing himself full upon her. The mounting anticipation was quickly replaced with blissful ecstasy as she climaxed instantaneously, unable to contain a string of shuddering moans. Her sweet release lingered on as he covered her neck and collar bone with kisses.

  She raked her fingers through his hair, urging his mouth impossibly closer, tight against her breast. She climaxed yet again, breathless, satisfied, and he pulled out before he exploded himself, letting his seed fall to the linen sheet.

  Alexandra cuddled closer to his chest after he laid his head back on the mounds of pillows, trying hard not to be bothered by the fact that he refused to spill his seed within her. His pulling out only confirmed his eventual departure. She refused to think of it now, could not bear to imagine him living centuries out of reach.

  A light whistling sound came through the wind-holes carved in the limestone walls as she looked at Sir Joe. “If you could leave this very moment, would you?”

  “Alexandra,” is all he said as his hand lingered on her side. But no other words were forthcoming, which was indeed an answer in itself.

  He would leave her.

  After all they had shared, he would leave her.

  “Do you truly not love me?” she asked.

  Silence followed by an answer worse than silence. “I don’t know,” he said. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “But yester morn, during the play, I thought...I thought perhaps you might have been speaking from the heart.”

  He propped himself in a position that would allow him to look into her eyes, wincing from the pain in his arm. “I swear, Alexandra. I don’t mean to hurt you. I’m not sure I even know what love is. And even if I did, I don’t think I could ever love you the way you want to be loved...the way you deserve to be loved.”

  “I love you,” she said, putting a finger to his lips before he could tell her otherwise. “You cannot take that away from me. I do not say the words to cause you guilt. I only say them because my heart tells me I must. I cannot bear to let you leave without fully telling you how I feel.”

  “Alexandra—”

  “Nay, let me finish, ’Tis all I ask.”

  His heavy sigh stirred her hair.

  “I love you not because of what we have shared in bed, or because you possess a handsome face, although both certainly add to your appeal.”

  He pulled in a long breath, his hand resting on her thigh.

  “I love you for keeping your promise, risking your very life in doing so. You are much braver than you let on. Fearless is what you have proven yourself to be, despite your kindliness toward my siblings and your obsession with cleanliness.”

  He raised a brow.

  “I do not lie.”

  “No,” he said, “this time you do not lie.”

  She propped herself on an elbow. “This time?”

  He nodded. “You do trip over your tongue when you lie, you know. Your eyes grow round when you’re in the middle of telling one, almost as if you’ve already been found guilty.”

  “You act as if I have been lying through my teeth since we met.”

  “No,” he disagreed, his voice soft and reassuring. “Only twice...maybe three times. For instance, just before you let me walk off with that fake rock. And then again when you and your grandfather pretended to have a plan. And then...”

  “I have heard enough,” she blurted, nestling once again into the crook of his good arm. “But verily I do not lie when I tell you that I did not plan for things to happen as they did. I never believed Grandfather’s tales until his stones brought me to you. But now that you are here,” she said, “everything feels as it should be, as if destiny truly does know best.”

  “People make their own destiny.”

  A rooster crowed in the distant hills.

  “Whatever happens,” Alexandra said, choosing to ignore his statement, “say that you will savor the time we have left. Promise me that.”

  His fingers brushed against her face as if he were hoping to forever remember the angles of her cheeks and the shape of her lips.

  “I will cherish every moment,” he said at last, “I swear.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Better break your word than do worse in keeping it.

  —Thomas Fuller

  Spring was well over, but Alexandra felt as fresh as the dawning of a new day as she watched Sir Joe kneel before the king. Alexandra could not recall ever being more proud than she was at this moment. Her hero from Central Park was being dubbed a true knight by the King of England himself.

  “A defender of the weak and unsuspecting. Merciful, bold and courageous you have proven yourself to be,” the herald said before the king’s assemblage of a few select lords and ladies.

  Alexandra’s sister, Mary, and Sir Richard, the Lady and Lord of Radmore’s Keep stood nearby. How very strange, Alexandra thought, to be within Sir Richard’s fortress, seeing her sister at his side, his gaze falling lovingly upon his new wife. It would take some getting used to this new brother-in-law of hers...but if her sister was truly happy, then what more could she ask for?

  “Sir Joe, are you prepared to accept the accolade of knighthood this day?” King Henry asked from his velvet cushioned high-back chair.

  “I am.”

  “Well then I give you these spurs.”

  A young squire knelt before Sir Joe and fastened spurs to his leather boots.

  “These spurs,” the herald said next, “represent the right of a true knight to ride unhindered throughout the land, protecting the weak, defending the defenseless, and helping the needy. And adorning this belt,” the herald went on as the squire fastened the belt about Sir Joe’s waist, “are blue stones representing the Virgin Mary, reminding every Knight to be ever faithful in his duties, to be pure of heart, and to be respectful in his actions and his deeds.”

  “Choose death before dishonor,” the squire said before stepping back and making room for King Henry to come forth.

  “Never draw this in anger,” the king said as he placed a mighty broadsword in Sir Joe’s hands. “This sword represents the Knight’s right to dispense justice. The double edge of the blade ever reminds you, brave Knight, to temper justice with mercy. As the steel of the Sword must be tempered in fire and water, so must the soul of the Knight be tempered by adversity and compassion.”

  As the herald asked Sir Joe to swear his oath of fealty and service, Alexandra held tightly to Sir Joe’s leather satchel; inside of which was the last stone. By entrusting it with her, he had in a sense, entrusted her also with his own destiny.

  Sir Joe spoke as if he was not sure of his love for her.

  But she knew otherwise.

  She did not need to hear the words to know that he loved her. She saw the love he held for her every day in the way he looked at her, in the way he worried over her siblings, and in the way he so plainly trusted her without fault.

  Verily she wanted naught more than to throw the stone into the black hole within the garderobe. He was no wandering troubadour, no simple man. He was her knight. And it dawned on her suddenly that mayhap he knew her better than she knew herself, for suddenly she felt sure he had given her his satchel, knowing she would want naught more than to throw it into the moat.

  And how very tempting the notion was.

  Carefully tugging on the ties, she pried the bag loose and reached within until she felt the stone’s rough edges upon her fingertips. Odd, she thought, for the stones she had carried had been as smooth and as cold as marble.

  Her mouth felt suddenly dry as she realized this was not the rock Sir Joe thought it to be. Grandfather!

  Hastily, she pulled the rock out into the light. She did not have to see the dull white veins running through the stone to know that it
was not the true stone. She gaped in stunned silence at Sir Joe as he knelt before the King of England.

  She could not fault Grandfather, for she too, wanted naught more than to have Sir Joe stay with her forever. But unless ’twas his own choice, she could not trick him again. They had both made promises to one another.

  Sir Joe had kept his promise. She could do no less.

  She would not fret over it now, she thought as she watched with great pride as King Henry took the heavy sword from Sir Joe’s hands and tapped its blade to Sir Joe’s good shoulder.

  “I hereby dub you Knight,” the king said. “The Black Knight of Levonshire.”

  Afterward, the king rambled on, telling all to enjoy the festivities planned by their gracious hosts, Sir Richard and his lovely wife, Lady Mary.

  After congratulations were given, Alexandra caught sight of Sir Joe coming her way. She wished to avoid him for as long as it took to figure out how to tell him he had not the true stone. But the time was to be now. She could only pray he would take his recent oaths seriously. Surely he would not do anything rash in full view of His Majesty? She nibbled at her lip and turned toward the long tables of food, pretending not to see him.

  He took hold of her arm and then touched her chin, bringing it upward so she had no choice but to look at him. “Have you been crying?”

  “Nay, of course not,” she said. “I-I do believe Sir Richard’s cook is overly fond of onions.”

  “Alexandra...”

  “Am I stuttering?”

  He nodded.

  “Is it the ceremony that has you tearful, or is it the fact that I refused to wear those tights you’re so fond of?”

  She smiled, all the while wishing she did not have to look at him each time as if it were to be her last. “I will miss you when you are gone,” she blurted.

  “We’re not going to talk about my leaving, remember? We’re going to eat and drink and be merry and then we’ll dance the night away.” He tilted her chin upward once again. “Alexandra, what’s wrong? You’re acting strange. There’s something you’re not telling me.”