Date Knight

by Bridget Essex

  Date Knight

  by Bridget Essex

  “Date Knight”

  © Bridget Essex 2015

  Rose and Star Press

  Smashwords Edition

  First Edition

  All rights reserved

  Smashwords License Statement

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  Synopsis:

  Once, there was a librarian, a warrior woman, and a love story that was out of this world...and now they're back in an all-new adventure!

  Holly would never have believed that the gorgeous woman who appeared in her backyard one magical night (wielding a sword) would turn out to be the love of her life--but the lady knight Virago is exactly that. Virago and Holly are madly in love, and Virago is still learning the ways of our world (and becoming slightly addicted to coffee). But as much as Virago loves Holly, she can't forget the world she came from.

  One night, another massive storm descends on Boston, and this time, four new women appear in Holly's backyard, each one of them wielding a sword. They are close friends and fellow knights of Virago, but they're not here to visit. They have come through the portal to ask Virago back one last time. The queen of Virago's beloved city is in danger and needs Virago's help.

  Holly is a librarian who always wished magic was real. And now, her new girlfriend is going to take her to another world. With an assassin on the loose and an evil king out to get the queen, what could possibly go wrong?

  DATE KNIGHT is a light-hearted, fantastical romance that will take you on a journey you’ll never forget. It is a sequel to A KNIGHT TO REMEMBER

  Dedication:

  Always and forever to my own lady knight in shining armor. I love you, baby.

  And this book is especially dedicated to Sir Terry Pratchett. You will never know what you meant to the twelve-year-old girl who needed your magic so very much. Beyond the grave, I salute you and I thank you with deepest love. This story—and I—would not exist without you.

  Chapter 1: The One-Week Anniversary

  I jump up and down and cheer at the top of my lungs as I wave my little blue-and-black pennant like a madwoman over my head. Down in the Knights of Valor “jousting arena”—which is just an area of the dog park that's been cordoned off with fraying rope on haphazardly placed plastic stakes—the knight in shining armor lifts her lance to me in triumph as she wheels her horse around with a practiced hand, trotting that enormous black beast along the fence line and posting in the saddle with a gorgeous behind that I'm totally not staring at.

  (I lied. I am.)

  Though there's currently a big medieval-style helmet covering the knight's beautiful face, hiding her smoldering blue eyes and that certain expression she gives me when she's just won a joust...I know it's all there, anyway, even though I can't see it.

  Because that knight in shining armor just happens to be my new girlfriend, Virago.

  Who, I'd like to point out, just happens to be a knight from another world.

  A few weeks ago, I did not have said girlfriend. A few weeks ago, I was living a vastly different life...

  So I think it's safe it's safe to say that it's been one hell of a month.

  “Dude, did you see how she just walloped that other knight off his horse?” asks Carly, as she jumps up and down, too, waving her blue-and-black flag just as hard as I'm waving mine. My best friend's bright red curls are flying all over the place, and her enthusiasm is pretty much off the charts. “That was awesome!” she hoots, pumping her fist in the air. “Take that, red-and-black knight who we're supposed to boo for, for absolutely no reason!” she hollers down onto the field.

  The red-and-black knight, currently huddled in a small ball in the middle of the arena, winces a little, swiveling his helmet around to see who shouted at him. I feel, in that moment, a little sorry for the knight...who's probably going to be nursing some pretty nasty bruises on his bottom since Virago hit him with the butt of her lance...

  I've got to remind her—for probably the millionth time—that she's not really jousting for anyone's hand or honor right now. She's supposed to be jousting theatrically.

  Old habits die hard, I guess.

  I'm still waving my flag like crazy when Virago wheels her horse back around toward us, pacing her mount beautifully along the fence. She's riding a gorgeous, big-boned black horse that's probably either a full-blooded Percheron (think large, black relations of the Budweiser Clydesdales) or related to one. Either way, because of how tall that horse is, Virago is currently sitting about eight feet off the ground, which is pretty damn high, but she's perched up there like she's perfectly comfortable, like she does this every day, and doesn't even have to think about it. It's pure effortlessness, the way she works her legs smoothly against the horse's sides, the way she sits back in the saddle, handling the reins like the trained professional that she is.

  But she's reaching up now and taking off her helmet, holding her reins and the lance in her other leather-gloved hand as she slows her horse to a standstill. The gelding comes a stop, pawing at the ground and snorting.

  Suddenly, the world starts to move in slow motion (or, at least, it seems to), a distant, hard rock ballad blasting out of someone's faraway car in the parking lot. The ballad playing is about sexy ladies, appropriately enough, as Virago takes her helmet off, shaking out her long, black hair and tossing it over her armored shoulder. Virago rakes a gloved hand through her hair, the strands now falling in perfect black waves over her metal-clad arms, down her back, the tips curling and shining against the spirals carved into her armored back-piece. And now she stops, rising up in her saddle. Virago searches through the crowd with her piercing blue eyes as she stands in the stirrups, her gaze trailing over the assembled people gathered along the fence line, her brow furrowed, just a little, as she searches...

  And then her gaze finds me.

  And when her eyes light on mine, the entire “arena” of the Knights of Valor Festival starts to glow as brightly as the surface of the sun. Because those bright blue eyes fix me in their sights, sparkling with energy, with delight, and her full lips turn up at the corners revealing dazzling, white teeth, and...my God...the smile that unfurls... It's utterly enchanting.

  I can feel my knees weaken immediately, my heart rate accelerating like I just ran a mile in a second, as I hold her gaze, and I smile, too.

  Because Virago is looking at me right now with a mixture of triumph—Carly's right; she really did wallop that other knight, poor guy—but also this kind of pure, radiating joy at seeing me in the audience, watching her do one of the things she's best at: being a knight. Her bright blue eyes dazzle, and the planes and curves of her face, naked of makeup, radiate with a flush of exertion and exhilaration. But there's more to her expression than that.

  Because there's this specific look that Virago has that she saves, only for me.

  It's love. Love, pure and simple, perfect and absolute. When Virago gazes at me, it's like nothing in the world exists except the two of us. Like everything else around us and outside of us—the people, the houses, the city of Boston, the world—fades away until there is only us and the connection that's between us, so bright and vibrant, pulsing like a newly born star. I can practically feel it, like a shining thread that binds my heart to hers.

  I think it's safe to say that, in all of the relationships I've had, I have never been looked at in the way that V
irago looks at me. Honestly, I didn't think that people ever looked at each other like that.

  Admittedly, I'm an incurable romantic, and I've read about a billion lesbian romance novels—give or take a few. Hey, I'm a librarian. It's practically my job to read. But I thought all those furtive glances were hyped up for effect. That “meaningful look across the room,” that “stolen moment where we glance at one another.” I mean, it was romantic and heart-fluttery to read about smoldering gazes, but I'd often wondered how based in reality that sexy, happily-ever-after stuff could possibly be. It couldn't be real, I'd thought...and I'd believed it. Life had beaten me down, and I didn't believe in the possibility of true love, or soul mates, or even people who just really, unconditionally loved each other.

  Until I met Virago.

  Until I fell in love.

  And I'm pretty sure I look at her in that exact same way that she looks at me.

  “Hey, earth to Holly! Come, in Holly,” says Carly, good-naturedly elbowing my ribs with a laugh, her smile wide as she shoves some of her curls out of her face; it's a little windy today. “Cartoon hearts are bouncing around above your head,” she chuckles at me, with a little eyeroll, a manicured brow raised impishly. “And now said hearts are popping like tiny balloons and showering me with love-colored confetti.” She pantomimes brushing something invisible off of her shoulders.

  “Cartoon hearts. Sure. I'd believe it,” I sigh happily, then grin at Carly. “Okay, so what's 'love-colored' look like, exactly?”

  “Pink and red with a few white ones,” Carly replies automatically, still grinning as Virago turns her horse around and begins to trot him back toward the makeshift tent-turned-stable where the horses for the Knights of Valor Festival are kept while the festival is in progress. She posts in the saddle easily, rising and falling in the perfect rhythm of the horse's hooves, and I'm having a very difficult time not looking at her leather-covered behind again. I can already feel my cheeks blushing as I look back at my best friend, my best friend who is absolutely not hiding the fact that she's making fun of me.

  “Hey, you know, I realize how sappy we're both being,” I admit gently as I tuck my blue-and-black flag into my oversized purse, pushing my purse's strap back up onto my shoulder. “And I'm really sorry that we're infecting you with love cooties,” I tell her, with a wink.

  “Oh, you had to deal with me when I first got together with David,” says Carly with a shrug, “and I'm highly aware that I shed a lot of love cooties in those first few years. And, you know, even now,” she tells me, with a chuckle and a shake of her head. She pauses for a moment, holding my gaze; then she takes a deep breath. “I don't mind all the cartoon hearts, Holly,” she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she snakes an arm around my waist and draws me into a surprise hug. “It's really wonderful. You have no idea how wonderful it is—to see you so damn happy. You're, like, radiating. Like Godzilla, when he got radiation pumped into him in that one movie. But in a good way,” she tells me sincerely.

  I'm laughing. “Hey, coming from you, that's the ultimate compliment,” I tell her, squeezing my geeky friend tightly before letting her go.

  “I mean, do you realize how lucky you are, Holly?” asks Carly, holding me out at arm's length and searching my face. “I just want to make sure, 'cause I seem to remember, like...oh, a month or so ago, a rather different visit to the Knights of Valor festival. Remember? One where you were pretty damn depressed because that ridiculous woman you called your girlfriend was being a total asshat? Just wondering if the asshat reference jogs your memory at all,” she says wryly, sticking her tongue out at me.

  I open my mouth, ready to defend my ex—and then I remember that Nicole was cheating on me for a year. I snap my mouth shut, shaking my head with a small sigh.

  “Holly,” Carly tells me, her face shining as she beams at me. “That woman right now, in the armor?” She points across the field at Virago. “The woman you're madly in love with? She came for you across worlds. I just...I just hope you know how lucky you are to have found each other.”

  I glance across the lawn, at Virago astride that big, black horse, talking to one of the knights down on ground level, a big grin stretching across her face. I can't hear what they're saying, but Virago tilts back her head at that moment and lets out such a joyous peal of laughter that, even over the noise of the rest of the Knights of Valor Festival, I can hear it, can hear how bright and happy her laugh is, like ringing bells.

  The sound of her laughter makes my heart skip a beat.

  “Yeah,” I tell Carly, and I realize that there are probably even more cartoon hearts rising out of my head now and popping like tiny balloons, showering my friend with “love-colored” confetti. “I do know how lucky I am.” I smile contentedly.

  That's the deepest truth I know.

  I'm the luckiest woman in this world. And, you know, pretty much any other world.

  “Good,” Carly says with a satisfied nod, hooking her arm tightly through mine. “So, don't you think that we should go congratulate your lovely knight on yet another fine performance?”

  “Sure.”

  “By the way,” Carly tells me, a brow up as we begin to step over the knee-high rope fencing. “I think it's pretty awesome that the festival lets Virago participate in the jousts and everything”—Carly gestures forward, her tone a little incredulous—“without a single page of paperwork documenting her previous work experience. Which happened to all take place on another world,” says Carly with a laugh, as we thread our way through the exiting crowd, aiming for the back tent. “I mean, how did you convince the festival guys? Virago doesn't even have a driver's license! No passport! No nothing!”

  “Well...” I shrug. “Virago just tried out for the joust like everybody else and really impressed them with how she handled the lance work and the horse. And, you know, considering that she jousted for my hand a few weeks ago at the festival, before the whole Beast thing happened... I mean, it was a few weeks ago, but obviously some gorgeous lady knight asking eloquently for the right to prove herself behind a lance for her lady's hand... That's pretty much something that nobody's going to forget.”

  “True, that,” says Carly, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets. “But, still, I think it's pretty awesome that they're letting her do this without references or...well, anything,” she says, glancing sidelong at me.

  “Are you suggesting that Virago used some sort of magic to convince them to let her joust?” I ask, innocently batting my eyelashes. “Why, madame—the nerve!” I tell her, as her eyes grow wider, her mouth open in a little, round “o.”

  “You know what? I'm sorry I asked,” she quips, eyes still wide, hands up in an “I surrender; please stop talking about it” sort of gesture.

  “Okay, okay. It was just a little magic,” I tell her, holding my thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth apart as she shakes her head, rolling her eyes and trying not to smile.

  Yeah, I've got to admit, it's kind of questionable that we decided to use magic for that. But it's the only time we've ever used magic on anyone, and it was for a super good cause. Virago loves being able to joust at the festival (and it was only a “these are not the droids you're looking for” moment. I promise).

  Carly and I move through the crowd, and then the people part...

  And there she is.

  As we approach Virago, my heart starts to flutter against my rib cage, my mouth turning up at the corners as I look at the gorgeous woman perched atop that massive horse. Virago gazes down at me for a moment, looking as pleased as a cat who just ate an entire pet shop's worth of canaries. She swings a leg over the rump of her big horse and hops down onto the ground effortlessly, her armor clanking as she settles. Virago lifts her chin then and gazes at me with those perfect bright blue eyes.

  “Hello, my love,” she growls happily. And then Virago leans forward, the leather thongs along her sides creaking as she wraps her strong arms around my middle, drawing me close, my costume dre
ss pressing against the front of her armor with its glorious, scroll-worked breastplate, covered in tiny spirals. And then she's kissing me. Fiercely. Her mouth is hot and soft and fiery against mine.

  Virago tastes of white-hot mint, and her lips are full and warm against me, electric. She kisses me, tasting me, holding me tightly. I wrap my arms around her neck and draw her down, happiness filling every atom of my body.

  We stand, of course, next to a massive horse along the edge of the arena. And the massive horse chooses this moment to stomp one of his massive hooves, flicking his tail at flies, glancing over his shoulder with a very long-suffering sigh. Since Virago started jousting here just a few days ago, it's our kissing that delays the horse from his oats each evening. I'm starting to get a complex that the creature kind of hates me because of it.

  Carly coughs politely and clears her throat. “Not that I don't enjoy watching a nice makeout session between a woman I kind of consider a sister—so, you know, therefore, cooties—and a knight from another world,” she tells us mildly, “but...”

  I'm laughing as I back away a little from Virago, shaking my head as my blush deepens. “Sorry, Carly,” I tell her, but she's chuckling, too.

  “Hey, I don't want to interrupt something as hot as all that,” she tells us with a wicked grin, “but I've got to get going. I promised David I'd be home to cook him my specialty!”

  “Takeout pizza?” I ask her, returning the grin.

  She spreads her hands and smiles as beatifically as the pope. Or Oprah. “You get a takeout pizza! You get a takeout pizza!” she says, in perfect pantomime of Oprah's Favorite Things, as she points at random people in the crowd. They look a little surprised but shrug and keep going about their business, because—frankly—this is a Renaissance festival, and there are much weirder things going on around here.