Knight Furies

by C. C. Wiley

  “The fault does not lay with you.”

  “It should have been me who died of the sickness. Not our father or mother. Their deaths were because I put my desire and passion first. I vowed that I would never do that again. The price is too great!

  “Don’t you see? Trouble has already followed this broken vow. First the sheep escape their enclosure. Then the fire.” Her eyes widened. The stolen shipments. She covered her mouth with her fingers. She had broken her vow and brought the troubles on them all.

  “Our kiss,” Nathan whispered. “That is why you blamed yourself? You pulled away from me. It is not the king’s edict for marriage.” He forked his fingers through his hair. “You are letting fear steal from you. From us.”

  Hurt, Meg snapped. “And you are stealing from Baldric. This was to be his holding.”

  “Not anymore. You knew that. Had Sir Vincent any other living blood relatives it could have passed to him. In truth, you should thank the stars and fate and whomever you pray to, that it was I who killed his only nephew. Hugh was worse than that bastard Vincent.”

  Meg blinked away the pain. “Worse?”

  “God bless Christ on the cross and his bloody wounds, we will wed. And we will make this arrangement work.”

  He looked every bit of the angry warrior and Meg saw what those who dared to stand against him saw. A man who would not be broken or swayed from his quest. She had to make him understand.

  “But I explained to you why I cannot. We cannot consummate the marriage bed.” She hugged her stomach, willing the ache to pass. “It would bring more trouble. Mayhap even death the next time.”

  “Let me remind you that it is Henry’s decree that Fletchers Landing is now mine and we are to become man and wife.”

  “Because that is what the king wants?” Meg narrowed her gaze. “I see. You desire to please your king so that you may return to his side.”

  “You wish me to wed you and then leave?”

  “Is that not what you have desired since your arrival?” She poured a mug of ale and swallowed it in one gulp. If only her hands would quit shaking. Whether he stayed or left, someone’s heart was bound to be broken when he discovered the rest of her secrets.

  Nathan helped himself to the ale and drank deeply from the mug. His tendons stretched from shoulder to jaw, as he swallowed its contents. When he was finished, he returned the mug with deliberate care next to hers.

  Meg gasped as he swept her off her feet. “What do you think you are about?”

  “Not all men are cut of the same cloth,” he said, as he carried her to her bed. Her heart thundered against her chest. Excitement set her pulse racing. “Set me on my feet,” she whispered. The sound of her voice carried little conviction as desire warred with fear. Was that really what she wanted? She did not know anymore. Life spun like a top. “I’m not a babe to be carried about.”

  “Indeed. ’Tis a fact I have noticed since the moment we met across the stream.”

  The skin over his cheeks and around his mouth was stretched taut. His heart vibrated through his tunic, galloping against her shoulder. Her hip skimmed his flat stomach. To her surprise, he ignored her order and carried her to the bed. He paused long enough for her to wonder if he’d reconsidered. Then he nudged aside the heavy drapes and removed all doubt.

  He let her slide down his chest, stopping only to place her on the mattress before releasing her.

  Meg dug her fingers into the coverlet and wiggled to stand. “I cannot…we cannot do this.”

  “Be still for a moment.” He gently pressed her shoulders so that she remained seated.

  Her eyes burned. “If you force me, I will fight you,” she warned. “Of this, I vow.”

  “Meg.” He tipped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I desire you. I admit it freely.” There was an air of pride as he spoke. “But set your heart at ease. I have never forced a woman to slake my needs.”

  She fought the urge to nip and taste his flesh. Her fingers clenched and unclenched. Her core tightened.

  He stared at her mouth, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her lips. “When we do come together it will be on your terms.”

  “Confident, are you?”

  “I think you want me, too.” His head dipped to the side. “You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  Meg squashed the thrill that threatened to float up from her belly. She watched, wide-eyed as he knelt and lifted her foot, placing it on his knee.

  “I keep thinking of when we first met. Beside the stream. I believe you started lusting over me the moment we first met.”

  He removed her shoes and let them drop to the floor. The soles echoed in the wave of silence hanging between them. “You, my sweet, were staring at my feet.”

  Meg gasped. “I never—”

  He ducked his head so that she could no longer read his expression. The curls of his auburn hair tickled his neck as he chuckled. “Not a very skilled liar, are you?”

  “How dare you,” she withdrew, tugging to free herself from his hands.

  “I’ve been told many times that I dare too much.” He nudged her skirt out of his way. Warm breath skimmed over her leg. His hands encircled her ankle, prodding the aching joints. Then he worked up her calf until he arrived at the top of her stockings. He played with their edge. “Ah, I do believe I recognize these. Hello, my lovelies.”

  “Nathan.” Instead of chastisement, his name sounded like a plea of passion to her ears. Her core clenched and unclenched. Her nipples pebbled. Meg closed her eyes and bit her lip to suppress the groan.

  Slipping a finger under the fabric, he rolled them down her leg, baring her feet. Her toes curled at the pleasure. A sigh filtered through her lips as he rubbed his hand over the aching bones where her shoes often pinched. She searched for his head to pull him closer. For what, she did not know. Would it be after this night that she no longer came to him a virgin?

  “Please,” she whispered in defeat. Raking her fingers through his mane of curls, she drew him to her bed.

  “Not tonight, my lady,” he murmured. Lifting both legs, he tipped her back until she rested on the bed, her head upon a pillow. “When we come together you will no longer question your desire.”

  “Sleep,” he said, placing a kiss upon her forehead. His lips scorched a path to her mouth. “Perchance you will dream of me and see us in the future. We will speak of our new arrangement come the morn.”

  Meg stared at his retreating back. The door clicked shut. Desire flooded her limbs. Pressing her thighs until she ached with need, she stroked the many places that he left untouched. Frustration lit like a wax taper. Her only satisfaction found that night was the knowledge he too would ache with unresolved need.

  Chapter 14

  Nathan’s cock would not allow him to sleep. The fire haunted his dreams when he closed his eyes. And when he lay awake all he could see was Meg. Her glossy dark hair splayed upon the coverlet, eyes pleading for passion’s release. Thighs opened for him to plunder, teasing him to take action.

  Once again, his cock rose to attention at the thought.

  If a glimpse of her fair calves turned him into a rutting hart, what would it do to him when he saw the whole of her? Every inch of flesh would require stroking and tasting. It startled him to think what kind of control she could have over him. If he allowed her, she would be devastating.

  He rose from his bed and prowled the keep halls and found his way to the portraits of Meg’s ancestors. They looked down their commanding noses. That should most certes clear the lewd thoughts from his mind.

  Those who came before him knew of their heritage. They had fought to protect the Fletchers Landing’s people and maintain prosperity. Some succeeded where others failed.

  Nathan felt like the imposter that he was. His family had died so long ago, that he never felt the need to unearth the roots of his herit
age. His place had always been in service to the king. The Knights of the Swan were his brothers. He had no need for more than a solid set of armor, a strong horse, and a few coins to help him entertain the women in his bed.

  And now, through marriage and Henry’s favor, he had inherited another family. What would those who came after him have to say about Sir Nathan, Lord of Fletchers Landing? Would he be up to the task that he’d been given?

  He raked his fingers through his hair. Time and time again, he had scoffed at his friends as they were saddled with land and buildings in need of repair. And now, with one stroke of the pen, King Henry had handed over these holdings. Why grace him with this gift now?

  “Good morrow. I see you rise early.” Brother John joined him in the hall and stood at his elbow. “Have you adjusted to your good fortune?”

  Is that what it was? Judging by the looks that he’d received the night before, he should feel blessed that they hadn’t tried to poison him. “I fear the family is none too pleased.”

  The good brother’s deep sigh echoed against the cavernous walls. “Aye, but it is as the king wills.” His crystal blue eyes followed Nathan. “What do you intend for them? The unknown is but a heavy weight around one’s neck when there is fear. But when there is hope, one can accept change with a little more ease.”

  “I had no foreknowledge that this would come to pass. I was tasked to glean information from a journal. Not to accept both land and Lady Meg’s hand in marriage.”

  “You will need to accept it all or displease our king.” Brother John turned and began his slow amble out of the keep. “No one knows for certes what a king will take into his head.” He folded his hands behind his back as they walked through the gallery.

  “There is always a price when someone meddles in affairs,” Nathan said.

  “I take it that you disapprove of my interference in the fate of Fletchers Landing.”

  Nathan stopped to squeeze the old man’s shoulder. “I’m still doing my best to understand all of your motives. Where does Lady Meg go at night?”

  “Speak to her. She keeps her secrets for good reason. But she needs you even though she does not realize it.”

  Nathan cut his attention to the shore. That was the direction in which he had seen the lights every night since his arrival. “I spoke with her last eve. She is displeased with the notion of marriage. Nor is she pleased with my taking of the holdings.”

  A glint of anger sparked over the monk’s visage. “I am well aware of your visit to her bedchamber.”

  A rush of heat found its way to his ears. “We spoke. That’s all that took place.”

  “See that it doesn’t until you are wed. And in the meantime, woo her. Convince her that marriage to you is a blessing. Not a curse.”

  How long would that take? Nathan did not relish the idea of a prolonged betrothal. He wanted it finalized as soon as possible.

  “Two days hence, you will officiate at our wedding,” Nathan announced. “That should give adequate time to prepare for the celebration.”

  “So soon? Do you not wish to discuss this with your betrothed?”

  “She may not want a celebration, but I think it best that we proceed with or without her approval. I will speak with Meg and the children and make it clear of my plans. I waited for her to rise, but have not seen her leave her rooms. She avoids me. But I will be lord of this domain. I wish to see the ledgers.”

  Worry marred the monk’s brow. He looked up at the tower and pointed to the high windows. “The master chamber was where her father conducted Fletcher Landing’s affairs. I will take you there.”

  * * * *

  Nathan marveled at the resplendent chamber. Glass windowpanes reflected a rainbow of colors on the walls. Books, lined up like soldiers, filled the shelves.

  He ignored the guilt as he walked on a thick rug. These were now his private chambers, his library. He was Lord of Fletchers Landing. No longer an intruder. So why did his skin prickle? He pushed open the shutters and inhaled.

  A navigator’s glass rested on a stand near a double-wide window. Its shining copper tube glistened in the sun. Nathan swung it about, searching the land leading to the firth. Beyond its shores lay the sea. A handful of fishing boats bobbed in the waters. Merchants should be coming here, looking for fine wares to sell. Instead the harbor was deserted. What dangers kept them away?

  A worktable sat in the middle of the room, angled to catch a wide view of the village and fields. After replacing the smaller, feminine chair with the solid heavy one standing in the corner of the master chamber, he sat behind the overlarge table and surveyed the stacks of leather-bound ledgers Brother John had pulled for him.

  Nathan scrubbed his hands together. Thankful he had been given the opportunity to be schooled in mathematics, he settled in to learn of his new home. His breath rushed from his body.

  Home?

  He could not recall the last time home was a reality. A place you could trust that no matter what events befell you in your travels, you would be received with open arms.

  The hours spent reading through the numbers scribbled across the parchment had begun to make his eyes water. He rubbed his cheek when it jumped. Thanks to the strain, a tic had formed. The words swam and danced behind his lids.

  He would rather battle a horde of Frenchmen or chew off his leg than read another page of jagged shaky handwriting. He closed the tome. Picking up another, he flipped it open and sighed with relief. This hand was more meticulous in the numbers and letters.

  Hunched over the pages, he read until daylight turned to night. Drawing the candle nearer, he reread the entry. The calculations did not balance.

  A scratching came from the other side of the door.

  “Come,” he ordered, marking his place with his finger.

  The handmaid entered with a food-laden tray. She was a pretty thing with rosy cheeks, her flaxen hair pulled back and tucked under a cap. “’Tis long past your first meal, my lord.”

  The deep curtsy brought her cleavage under his notice. She lowered her lashes, creating delicate shadows over her cheekbones. “I thought you might be hungry by now. You, being our new lord and master, should be seen to. Given the best treatment and care.”

  There was a time when he would have been enticed to have a tumble with her. Instead, his little head slept. Glowering, he laid his pen down on the table. “And who might you be?”

  Bidden by his question, her smile widened. “Millicent, my lord.”

  Nathan folded his hands over his chest and leaned in his chair. “You accept me as your lord so readily? What of the Lady Margaret?”

  “That she dragon locks herself away from the rest of us, playing with her hives and bees. Not natural, is it?” She caught her lip with her teeth. “I probably shouldn’t have spoken so clearly. My uncle is always telling me I speak my truth too loudly.”

  Nathan rose, towering over her diminutive figure. “How long have you worked in this keep? You need to be taught discretion.”

  He jumped as she plopped down and knelt beside his knees. Her fingers dug into his thigh with a claw-like grip. “Mercy, my lord. I meant no harm,” she wailed.

  “Shite, Millicent, stand up.” He extracted her nails from his person. His attempts to put the desk between them proved difficult. The wench was as slippery and determined as an eel.

  “What are you doing, Sir Nathan?”

  “Meg,” he started.

  “Unhand her at once.” Meg’s nostrils flared. She pushed past him and lifted the serving wench from the floor by the elbow.

  “If you take notice, I was not touching the wench. In truth, she was climbing up my leg like an alley cat.”

  Meg turned her dark glare on Nathan and swished her skirt around him as if he had the plague. “Return to the kitchens. Wait for me there.”

  Nathan watched the comely wench turn
her waterfall off and on with expert ease. Her mouth pursed in a bow.

  “Yes, my lady.” Eyes cast down, she stepped toward the door to make her escape.

  “Inform Cook that our evening meal will be taken one hour later,” Meg said.

  The serving maid was not so talented to hide the glare cast behind Meg’s back. The treacherous woman smoothed her hands down her apron and over her hips. She licked her lips, offering up her foul treats for his use. A blond spider spinning her web.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Meg’s frown deepened. She stood before him, a warrior; a sight to behold. Her scowl was fierce enough to force a Viking to flee back to his ship. “You will not bed every wench in Fletchers Landing.”

  “My lady,” he said. “You are the only woman I wish to bed.” He drew her to the chair beside the stacks of ledgers.

  She nudged one of the heavy tomes. “What are you doing in here? This is my parents’ private chamber.”

  Nathan hooked a hip on the table and braced his other leg on the floor. He bit his lip to keep from noticing that her gaze kept slipping toward his groin. Good. Let her be as off-balance as the damn accounting.

  “As Lord of Fletchers Landing, I am to go over the accounts. Am I not? Who keeps this mess?” he asked, pointing to the hated pile of numbers.

  “I do,” she said. Her arms crossed below her chest, lifting her bosom higher.

  “Then, my dear betrothed, we will be spending every waking hour, straightening them out.”

  “Mayhap too many battles have scattered pieces of your brain matter. There is nothing wrong with my numbers.”

  He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. She’d struck too close to the center of his fear. But he had never given up field position before and he was not about to start.

  “Send word that we will take our meals here. We will not stop until you and I have gone over everything.”

  “Meals?” Her mouth made a pretty little circle. One he wished would someday be used on him in many exciting ways. He tore free from the fantasy.