The Knights Elemental

by Sahara Kelly

  “Now.” Gilles spoke the word with authority as his eyes swept both women. “I think it’s time for us to share some information.”

  Guy nodded in agreement. “Tell us, please, what exactly has been going on?”

  Gilles felt Linnet draw a deep breath. Her breasts stirred, rousing a similar sensation in his breeches. He did his best to ignore it, knowing that this conversation was important. His cock, however, refused to acknowledge anything other than its most immediate need. Linnet.

  Gilles sighed. “Better make it a short story, too.”

  Guy’s lips curved. “Agreed.”

  Linnet and Mechele both blushed.

  Mechele broke the pregnant silence that had fallen, as four minds had drifted to places best not explored at this particular moment.

  “It all began after our first good harvest,” she said, frowning a little at her hands as they lay folded on the table. “We had paid our tribute, and thought all was well, until riders arrived from Lymington, announcing that they had orders to review our land, our crops, and possibly re-assess our amount.”

  Linnet nodded. “We showed them every hospitality, permitted them access to our storage barns, our livestock, everything they needed to know. We assumed they’d raise our tribute slightly. After all, it had been a good harvest, the first since the Swanns had left, and so we waited.”

  Mechele took up the tale. “Then the next thing we know, Lymington himself rides up to the front door.” She bit her lip, and Guy leaned even closer.

  “Tell us, Mechele.”

  Mechele glanced at Linnet, who continued for her.

  “Lymington saw us. For the first time, I suppose. I can’t recall meeting him prior to that day.” She glanced over at Mechele for confirmation.

  A little nod greeted her words.

  “Well,” continued Linnet, twisting her hands nervously. “Apparently he liked what he saw.”

  Gilles could feel his muscles go rigid at these words. He flicked a quick glance at Guy’s immobile features. None but he would have noticed the quick tightening of that jaw or the change in Guy’s eyes.

  “He…he…made some suggestions.”

  “What suggestions, love?” Gilles asked the question far more gently than he would have believed possible. His heart was in his throat and his pulse was beating rapidly now.

  Linnet shook her head, unwilling to continue.

  “He…he wanted us both in his bed.” Mechele’s words exploded into the darkness.

  Gilles felt Linnet’s hand slip into his. It was cold.

  Guy’s arm slipped protectively around Mechele’s shoulders and he encouraged her to continue. “Go on, love. Tell it all. We have to know.”

  “Well,” sighed Mechele, shaking her head. “We denied him, of course.”

  Gilles bit his lip in fury, but kept his words inside him.

  “And we sent him away with something less than our usual courtesy.”

  That comment brought a wry grin to the lips of both men. They could just imagine the words that were probably spoken.

  “Then our next visit was from his estate manager, telling us of our new tribute, and what would happen if we failed to pay it.” Mechele’s voice was stronger now. “Lymington had tripled our amount. Tripled. Can you believe it?”

  Linnet nodded. “It was not something we could hope to meet, until the winter had passed, and we knew how much would be left. We had just restored Maltby to some kind of order. If we’d paid, we would have threatened the very lives of some of our people. We couldn’t permit that at all.”

  Gilles agreed and glanced absently at the dancing crowd. No, neither Linnet nor Mechele were the type to jeopardize those whose existence depended on them.

  “The next visit was laughable,” continued Mechele. “Lymington’s men arrived, demanding the increased tribute. And they carried a message from their Lord offering to wed me and thereby negate any overdue balance or future increases.”

  Linnet snorted. “As if we’d consider such a thing.”

  Gilles’ pulse was threatening to deafen him, and he had to shake his head to clear it.

  Mechele giggled. “Remember that this is not a big shire. Most of Lymington’s men were known to us, and so we entertained them like royalty, fed them, offered them our ales, and even a slice of Mistress Cooper’s extraordinarily fine blackberry pie. They were content, pleasant, and took our politely worded apology back to Lymington.”

  “Thus establishing the pattern of which Lymington complained,” muttered Gilles. “You seduced his men away from him.”

  Mechele straightened. “I’d not use exactly those words, Sir Gilles.”

  “You mistake, love,” said Guy warmly. “You seduced them with your kindness and your warmth, not—I am glad to say—with your delectable body.”

  Mechele subsided into a warm blush.

  Linnet took up the tale. “As a last resort, Lymington arrived once more, in full armor this time.” She snickered and glanced at Gilles. “I have not had the pleasure of seeing you two in your armor, but I’ll wager my best chaplet that it’s nothing like the sight of Lymington stuffed into his.”

  Guy and Gilles smiled, knowing in all modesty, that she spoke nothing but the truth.

  Gilles encouraged her to continue. “Go on, sweet. What happened when the corpulent Knight in his too-tight armor arrived on your doorstep?”

  Linnet chuckled. “Unfortunately, that final episode does not reflect well upon me, Gilles.”

  A mobile eyebrow flew up over laughing blue eyes. “Let me guess,” said Gilles teasingly. “You grabbed some mud and spoiled his shiny breastplate.”

  Mechele laughed. “I wish we’d had the chance, Gilles, I really do.”

  Linnet sobered. “I did something worse, I’m afraid. This time he’d come with an offer of marriage for me. Since I was unrelated by blood to Sir Dunstan, his guess was that I was in need of a husband of substance.” She snorted. “And by the Saints, he had plenty of substance to him.”

  Gilles drew a breath, fighting the urge to smash something. “So what happened?” he asked coolly, amazed at his own composure.

  Linnet glanced at Mechele, a silent plea in her eyes.

  Mechele finished the tale. “Linnet told him to his face, in front of his men, that she’d sooner marry a midden for muck, and that if he didn’t get his arse off our property within minutes, she’d take a scythe to whatever scrawny piece of flesh was buried between his fat thighs.”

  Gilles and Guy burst out laughing, and Linnet buried her face in her hands and moaned.

  Even Mechele was laughing now, and Gilles gently rubbed his palm across Linnet’s shoulder blades in a move that was supposed to be comforting, but was doing very nice things to his own body, too.

  She raised her flushed face and grinned. “And I don’t take a word of it back, either. The man is a pig, and a greedy one at that, and I am probably being unfair to pigs by using them as a comparison.”

  Mechele caught back a giggle and sighed. “Since then, we’ve had more demands, which we’ve managed to parry, but he’s hiring new men, unknown to us, who are harder to convince. And it’s been a difficult time. We’ve lost stock when they got into swampy fields thanks to unfortunately ‘broken’ fences. One of our wells has turned sour and is no longer usable.”

  “The orchard suffered a lot of serious damage in the last thunderstorm. And there have been other, minor, annoyances, all of which have made us all jumpy and nervous, but steeled us against giving in to this—blackmail of his. For we certainly believe he is behind these incidents.”

  “Plague take the man,” spat Guy, anger seething from his body. “To make such demands, and then resort to such underhanded trickery from spite and bile. It’s beyond words…”

  With an effort, Gilles calmed his temper and organized his thoughts.

  “Your story certainly bears out the tales we heard, albeit from a slightly different perspective. May I ask exactly how much tribute is currently assessed to Malt
by?”

  Linnet named a sum that made both men gasp.

  “You cannot be serious,” said Guy, mouth agape.

  “Oh never more so, Guy,” answered Mechele. “We have no notion of what is a fair assessment, we only knew what was within our bounds to pay, and what seemed fair and right. This sum was neither.”

  “I should say not,” said Gilles. “Such a sum would be not untoward for the richest shire in the land. Not a small estate like Maltby. Whatever possessed Lymington to put such a price on this place?”

  He looked at Mechele and Linnet and then he knew.

  Without a doubt, Lymington had seen them as the women they were. Beautiful, independent, self-possessed, and with a bearing which told all who took the time to look that there was a great deal of passionate fire buried beneath the ladylike kirtles and chaplets.

  After all, had not he and Guy succumbed to that very fire?

  Guy spoke carefully. “It is very clear that Lymington is in the wrong. His actions do not bespeak those of an honorable man, nor those of one whose interests lie in fairly submitting a tribute to his own liege Lord. You should be aware that the sum he is assessing you is more than that assessed on him by Lord Benstede. The extra would go, no doubt, into his home, his chests of gold, and his belly.”

  “One can only imagine what his other estates are paying, in that case,” said Linnet thoughtfully. “He must be lining his pockets very comfortably with the excess profits of his stewardship.”

  Guy and Gilles shared a look. This situation was untenable and would not be allowed to continue.

  Their thoughts, as always, ran together. They would find a way to stop this appalling blackmail and right a wrong that should never have happened in the first place.

  No one would take advantage of Maltby Abbey and its newfound successes, nor would anyone be allowed to threaten its very existence out of sheer greed and spite.

  And no one, no one, was going to even think about Linnet and Mechele with anything other than respect.

  Not while either of the Knights Elemental drew a breath.

  Gilles put his hand to Linnet’s chin and drew her face around so that he could look into her eyes. “You’ve told us what we need to know, sweet. Let us shoulder this burden. Send it all the way to the back of your mind. We shall deal with this matter on your behalf from now on.”

  Guy had pulled Mechele closer to him, almost onto his lap. “We’re here now, Mechele. Nothing can threaten you like that ever again. Certainly not Lymington. He is no more than this bug…” Powerful fingers reached out and crushed a moth fluttering too close to the flames of the small tallow lamp that flickered on the table.

  Gilles’ fingers tightened on Linnet’s jaw. “I can think of most pleasant ways to distract ourselves for the rest of this night, love. What say you?”

  Chapter 8

  “I…I…” She found her wrist taken in a firm clasp and her body drawn to its full height as Gilles dragged her from her seat.

  She was dimly aware of Guy picking Mechele up into his arms with a strong, smooth movement.

  “We shall bid you sweet dreams, my friend,” he muttered as he bore his burden off into the shadows.

  “And you,” said Gilles, tugging now on Linnet’s arm.

  “But…but…I thought we…I mean…we could…”

  “What, love?” asked Gilles, pulling her along behind him.

  “Well, I thought perhaps…the stables…” she gasped, catching her breath as his pace quickened.

  He chuckled, a light hearted and sensual sound that warmed her soul, and other bits of her body as well.

  “No, sweetheart, no hay for us. I have other plans.” He paused at the small servants door into Maltby Abbey. “There are none to see us, love. Take me to your chamber?”

  Linnet glanced around, mouth dry.

  Gilles was right. The party had moved to the far end of the courtyard, as if by giving them privacy, the tenants were approving the actions of the four at the small table.

  She sighed. “Very well, this way.”

  He followed her silently as she made her way into the house, swearing she could feel his eyes on her backside as she mounted the stairs and led the way to her chamber.

  Once inside, Gilles closed the door behind him and lowered the stout bar into the lock. “Now, Linnet. It’s just the two of us. And about time too…”

  Linnet’s breath quickened as the light of the candles reflected sparks from a pair of hot blue eyes.

  He moved closer, and she lowered her eyelids in preparation for a kiss that never came.

  Instead, she felt his hands, just brushing the sides of her body and sliding up to remove her chaplet and veil. Then he unfastened her hair.

  “Such wondrous stuff,” he murmured, sliding his hands through it and freeing the tresses to tumble loose.

  She opened her eyes again and watched him as he smoothed away the tangles, slowly and leisurely enjoying the feel of it between his fingers.

  She was confused.

  She wanted him badly. She was his for the taking. Why was he not taking her? Why was he playing with her hair when her whole body was throbbing with need? Didn’t he know?

  His gaze met hers, and her doubts flew away. He knew.

  Unbidden, her hands reached to his chest and began their own journey. Over the hard planes and valleys, up and down, she found a new joy in just the feel of his body beneath her palms.

  His eyes were practically glowing as he reached for the laces of her gown, slowly slipping them free of their knots and loosening the fabric with each tug.

  She daringly pulled his shirt from his breeches and groaned a little as her hands found his flesh. Burning hot and smooth to her touch, it brought a matching heat to her loins and a tremble to her hands.

  “Let me see you, love,” he whispered, easing her now loose kirtle off her shoulders and pushing it to the floor.

  He was kneeling before her and she waited for him to rise and press his hardness against her. Oh how she wanted it.

  But again, he surprised and confused her.

  Instead of rising, he placed a soft kiss on her knee.

  “Gilles…I…what…”

  “Ssshh, Linnet. Relax and let go. Tonight you shall do naught but enjoy. I am going to love you, Linnet…” His tongue traced its way up her inner thigh and she shivered, feeling that flames must be following its course. “Love you until you forget everything but me.”

  As if that was going to be a difficult task. “Truly, Gilles,” she answered softly, “I think that will be no hardship.”

  His eyes flickered up at her from where he knelt before her. She saw his quick grin. “Good girl,” he said, and returned to his task.

  Low in her belly the heat had begun, and Linnet knew her body was responding wildly to the touch of his mouth.

  She flinched as she felt him near the juncture of her thighs and realized he was helping himself to the moisture that had already dampened her skin.

  “Mmm, such a wonderful flavor you have, Mistress Linnet. All woman and desire and…”

  His lips brushed her mound and her cunny and she gasped aloud.

  “Do you mind?” He pulled his head away slightly, almost as if he was asking her permission to continue.

  She fought the desire to reach down and thrust his head back between her legs. “Er…no,” she admitted, thinking that she had just uttered the understatement of the year.

  Thankfully he continued, before she fainted from the need he was arousing.

  His tongue swept between her parted thighs, more deliberately now, sending bolts of lightning to her spine and her brain and even her damned fingertips.

  Never could she remember feeling this way. Never had every single particle of her skin been so alive to another human touch.

  Her nipples pebbled, her mouth opened on a breath and she sighed with pleasure as his tongue found her secrets and learned the texture of her swollen folds.

  He nibbled and nipped and licked,
his fingers slipping to her buttocks to hold her higher and align her to exactly where he wanted her.

  And exactly where she wanted to be.

  She cried out as he suckled her flesh, her hips beginning to writhe underneath the steady sweep of that loving tongue.

  “You like this, Linnet?” His question caught her by surprise. People didn’t talk while loving. Not in her experience, anyway.

  “Oh yes,” she mumbled, striving to force the words past the huge lump of lust that was swelling in her throat. “Oh yessssss…”

  His tongue worked her hard now, making her shake and shiver and grasp his hair as her knees weakened.

  She could feel every slick swipe and flick and for a moment feared she’d collapse on top of him in a mammoth eruption of desire.

  “Your sweet honey is flowing, Linnet. We need no bees to make it run freely, just a touch,” said Gilles, blowing his breath softly on her mound.

  She sighed, losing herself completely in his touches.

  It came as a shock when he pulled away and stood. She found herself confused again as he gently cupped her face. “Taste yourself, Linnet. Taste your sweetness, your intoxicating flavor which has put a spell on me…”

  He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her passionately, opening her mouth and sliding his tongue inside.

  She caught a hint of him, his particular essence that had so aroused her when their lips first met. But it was mingled with a sweet tanginess, her own juices, and the erotically charged combination stirred her in places she’d never imagined.

  He pulled their lips apart, a sweet smile on his face. “Never have I tasted such a woman, my love.” He tugged his shirt free and off his shoulders. It fell in a soft pool on the floor next to her forgotten kirtle. “Come. It’s time we explored some more of these pleasures.”

  He stripped off his breeches and within moments had her lying on the bed. She made to move and pull back the covers, but he stilled her.

  “Stay, Linnet. Feel the softness beneath you.”

  He’d lowered her onto one of the furs that lay across her bed. Not needed during the warm months, but come winter they provided much-needed heat.