How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel

by Alden, Stella Marie

  It was hard to think with his mouth so close and his shaft so large. “Hmmm? Oh. Yes. For keeping me safe.”

  “What else would you have me do, Lady? You’re my wife.” His face was laced with genuine surprise.

  “You could’ve given me over to him.” Wrapping back into his embrace, his neck muscles bulged, and his heart pumped against her ear. Somehow she had annoyed him again.

  “Why in God’s name would I do that?”

  Now it was she whose hackles lifted. “Would it not be easier to be rid of me than to wage war? Time after time, you put yourself and your men in danger for my sake. I’m just a woman; and a side that came with your land grant from the king. You said so yourself.”

  “What do I have to do to get you to understand? It’s all different now. I have feelings for you, woman. Strong feelings. The kind I don’t even fully understand.”

  “How can that be? I argue with you incessantly.” She pushed away from his chest so she could watch his responses better.

  There was true fondness when his hazel eyes regarded her. “Step back into my arms. As close as you were to me last night.”

  She did as he asked and he tucked her between his legs and cocooned her body with his. After a moment, he said, “Don’t you feel safe?”

  She pondered his words. “I simply don’t think I know what safe feels like. Certainly, right now, I’m safe. With you.”

  “I’d have you feel like nothing could ever harm you.” He sighed, inhaled deeply, and combed his fingers through her hair.

  “You ask too much.” But she lied. At that moment, all was warm and safe and wonderful.

  “I’ll take care of you, if you’d just let me.” His arms tightened as he pulled her more closely into his body. Then his lips found hers and his tongue claimed her mouth. She reached her arms around his neck and kissed him back; pushing her hardening breasts against his broad chest and feeling the heat grow between her legs.

  He made a low growl in his throat. “By all that is holy, I’d go through fire and brimstone to keep you with me. A lifetime will nay be enough.”

  He stepped away, and his eyebrows creased as if in pain, after taking one more kiss. “Right now, though, I need to go downstairs and see to it those ruffians don’t destroy our home. You need to stay put.”

  “I vow to you. I will.”

  “See that you do.”

  Much later, he rapped on the oak. “Wake up and unbar the door.”

  “I’m not asleep. Who could sleep even for a wink with all that ruckus?” She rose up from under a fur by the fire and put her mechanism book aside.

  “Hold off.” She poured some grease from one of her candles onto the wood that barred the door. “There,” she said with some pride. “I fixed it.”

  He laughed when the wood block slid without sound or effort. Entering quickly, he latched the door behind him. “I came back as soon as I could, but the bishop’s men have a never-ending thirst for mead.”

  He made a sound in the back of his throat that Ann had come to learn meant an annoyance of the purse.

  “Fear not. We’ll have more mead in the making soon. High summer is when honey is plentiful.”

  The candles picked up a gleam in his eye. He moved closer and put a kiss on her lips. “And now, witch, you fancy that you read minds? Can you guess what I’m thinking now?”

  She laughed, took his hand, and led him to the pallet. She stepped onto the wood frame and rose onto her toes. With her lips now at the same height as his, she laid siege upon his mouth. He tasted not of mead, as she anticipated, but of cook’s jams. As he’d taught her, she let her tongue play swords with his.

  The first round went to her, but then he moaned and retaliated. His amazing large hands grabbed her just under her ribs and his thumbs caressed the nubs of her hardening breasts. She gasped for air.

  “Ah, sweet Ann. You can’t imagine what it does to me when I know you want me as much as I do you.” He lifted her up to press against his staff.

  “Have I been woman enough for you?” She giggled.

  He took her wrist and guided her to feel under his tunic. “I think we should put that fallacy to rest, once and for all. Come and let me test your womanhood to see if I can stand up to it.”

  “Would you like me to help with your boots again?” A bit bold, she knelt on the pallet with her head just in front of the bulge under his tunic.

  “Aye, that would be fine.” He sat and raised one leg for her.

  She reached much higher than necessary, then slid her hands down the coarse hair of his legs until she reached his boot. She untied the laces and pulled. Even higher she reached for the second. Her husband watched, eyes wide with centers blackened.

  “And your sword?” Her hand drifted over his throbbing rod while unbuckling the frog that held his sword. “And your shirts?”

  He lifted his arms and she stood on the pallet’s edge to pull off his tunic and linen shirt. She couldn’t help, but let her hand caress over his body to the arrow shape of hair that started at his navel. Stopping at the base of his thick pintle, she leaned over and kissed him, and her magnificent beast moaned.

  “I must get your knives now.” She went to her knees and untied the weapons on his thighs. She caressed his large appendage, and his face tightened as if in pain.

  “Did I hurt you?” She removed her hand quickly.

  He groaned and placed it back. “It is unearthly pleasure. Pray continue.”

  Bending forward, her fingertip caressed the sides of his rod and the silkiness at the tip. A bead formed and she tasted him. As he had done for her the night before, she licked him, and played him with her tongue.

  “Oh, God. Take it completely into your mouth. It is exquisite torture.” He dug his hands into her hair as he pulled her closer.

  Interested, she took the length of him in and gently sucked as her huge warrior shuddered. His pintle expanded more fully. How could such a little touch bring The Beast so?

  “Maybe thou art a witch. Never have I experienced anything like this. Enough play or my seed will go to waste.”

  Lifting her arms up over her head, he tugged off her tunic, then her chemise. It took some doing, but finally he undid the leather ties holding the three sheaves, and her knives clunked on the floor. Effortlessly, he drew her up by her armpits and placed her on her back, opening her legs fully.

  She closed her eyes, waiting for the entrance of his rod, but instead felt another kind of invasion.

  “Marcus?” She peeked. In the flickering light, his eyes gleamed and a half-smirk spread across his face. He blew between her legs.

  “The battle has shifted, my Lady, and you must endure the assault.” As he put his skillful tongue to work on the soft folds of her flesh, he chuckled. “Oh, yes, and you will surrender.”

  Her derriere muscles clenched and her ears rang as she strained to find paradise. With her back arched, she opened her legs wide, and waited for the final touch that would send her on her way.

  Rolling onto his back, he brought her astride, and she sank onto him. “Ride me to heaven, Lady,” he commanded. They met each other again and again, thrust for thrust, until she screamed.

  His seed filled her with a final plunge and a shout. She pushed on him several more times to feel his still-throbbing pintle echo pulses to her own as their bodies slowly called a truce. She fell onto his chest; to the racing drumbeat of his heart.

  She woke when he pulled out, ever so slowly, rubbing against the sensitive area. A heavy arm draped across her midsection and rough fingertips drew circles around her navel.

  “When did you give Abernathy a Roman coin?”

  “Hmm?” Heavenly clouds still swirled around in her mind’s eye.

  Tickling her side, he said, “Wake up. You’ve made all of your accounting quite clear in your little ledger. I found out what you did.” His tongue laved her breast and it hardened.

  She gasped and he laughed. “Time to tell me all your secrets or I
shall torture you all night.”

  “So now you want my gold? That’s what this is all about. My first husband comes with a whip, and you with your wonderful ways.” She laughed, too.

  “My wonderful ways? Do you mean like this?” He raised an eyebrow, blew on the dampness he’d left on her breast, and nipped. It tightened, hardened, and a line tugged down to the folds between her legs.

  “Or like this?” He dragged his finger all the way to her wetness. He drew little circles until the nub went hard.

  A moan escaped her lips. “You know only too well.”

  “You’ve cast a spell over me. I may never recover.”

  “And you must be the Archangel Michael. Who else could bring me to heaven and back?”

  He made a pleasant little beast growl. “Will you confess this to the priest in the morning?”

  Her face warmed. “No. I think not. Tis no sin in making babies with one’s husband. Even if it is sinfully good.”

  He stretched and his muscles flexed against her naked flesh. “As I predicted the day I married you, I think we’re well matched. In all seriousness. Promise me that you’ll consult me before giving any more coin away. Gold like that is unique. For some people, a treasure hunt becomes a sickness of the mind, and they will pursue it beyond food and life to get it.”

  “I wouldn’t have needed to, except for Abernathy, and now I don’t need his protection. I have you.”

  “Aye, come here wife, and I’ll have you again.”

  Chapter 13

  Ann rose off the bed a bit disoriented. The room was filled with an eerie morning fog and visions of lovemaking flashed before her. Mayhap she should not rouse her sweet beast? Silently, she donned a long chemise and gray tunic, while a mist swirled around her and men sang rowdy songs from afar. Why was she in a tavern?

  A nasty flavor burped up from her insides and her stomach rolled. Her monthlies were late. Best to think on something else, like how to improve her monies with the dye vat. She was so far behind, what with getting married and all.

  But I’m sure I can get the colors right. She sat down in a field filled with blue cornflowers in full bloom. All I have to do is gather them and boil them. Then, oh then, she’d have blue wool of the most expensive color. The vat appeared before her, bubbling under a hot flame and she gave the wool a stir with a stick. Which young man would she send next to apprentice in London? So much to be done before fair time.

  Her eyes opened wide and the pleasant scene in front of her changed into a nightmare.

  What is real?

  Heart pounding, she froze. Dear God, no. She had dream-walked deep into the heart of hell.

  She put a bare toe back a step, retreating up the stairs, and fixed her gaze down to her own great hall. Many of the bishop’s men were unconscious in their own vile juices, but the ones who were not, stared back up with way too much interest.

  She willed her legs to fly to the safety of her room, but even drunk, the bishop was fast and she still groggy. He dashed up the stairs and grabbed her bare foot.

  “Where are you going, Lady Ann, and in such attire?” He dragged her down to his level on the landing.

  “Excuse me, Your Excellency. I was going to see about some breakfast and issues in the town.” She twisted, but his vise-like grip held fast.

  “Issues? What kind of lady has issues in the town?” His mouth went wide with a sneer, his fingers dug into her skin, and he brought his face so close that his nose touched hers. The vile smell of vomit assaulted her nostrils.

  “One who finds it necessary to labor.” Would she faint or retch or both? Neither, she decided. Not until she knocked him down the stairs.

  He swayed a little in his drunken stupor. “Labor? Certainly you’ve servants for that?”

  “Yes, of course. A lady like myself needs not worry about such things.”

  At the foot of the stairs, Thomas had begun to make his way toward her. He nodded, but from the way men crowded about, it was plain he needed more time.

  The bishop’s eyes narrowed, looking more like a pig, than not. “But you were about to, were you not? Maybe you were going to search for hidden coins?”

  Again with the gold? “No, I was going to look for flowers.”

  His face grew redder; both thumbs buried into her shoulder and he shook her. “Is that where you’ve hidden the gold coins, in the flowers? Tell me girl.”

  “No, that is where the flowers are hidden.” She gave the idiot an innocent flutter of her eyelashes.

  Thomas moved closer and several more of Marcus’ knights joined with him, but more of the bishop’s men had moved in to guard the foot of the stairs.

  “Are you getting fresh with me, child?” He pulled her close to his body. He reeked of days of non-bathing and his clothes smelled of bad ale, old food, and upchuck. A flea jumped off his tunic and onto hers.”

  “Uck. Please, sir, Your Holiness, let me go.” She pushed against his fat chest.

  “Mayhap just a small kiss for the sake of God. Then I’ll have your marriage annulled and you can come and join my nunnery? We always have room for more ladies, such as you.” The smelly pig wrapped his arms around her and grabbed at her breasts.

  “Marcus!”

  She squirmed, but the man’s fat girth made it impossible to move and his foul mouth covered hers. His tongue thrust down her throat and she gagged. When she came up gasping for breath, he turned her and pushed her head forcefully to the staircase and held her there by the neck.

  Shouts ensued and steel met steel. Men grunted and Thomas’ shrill whistle pierced atop it all.

  Too late.

  Her tunic went high and cold air greeted her naked behind. From under her shoulder she could see the pig tuck his tunic up. He was unclothed from the waist down, his male scepter swollen and pointing. She screamed, but her mouth was pressed to the stone stairs, muffling her cry.

  “Quiet, witch.” He slapped her bare ass so hard that tears ran down her cheeks.

  Never. Never again, she thought. I’ll slice his balls off, first. She reached for the knife on her left forearm. Oh God, no. All her knives still lay on the floor, next to her pallet.

  Marcus heard her scream and turned to an empty divot in his pallet. With his heart beating wildly, he grabbed his sword, and jumped over the top of the staircase to the main landing in one bound. In a glance, he surmised the chain of events leading up to this moment.

  His sword slipped under the balls of the shocked bishop who was about to enter his wife from behind. “What kind of vow of chastity did you take? Speak plainly so all can hear. Mayhap I can help lead you from temptation. Permanently.”

  The room went deathly quiet and swords dropped to the floor. The few of the bishop’s men, who had not been knocked unconscious by Thomas, crowded about the foot of the staircase in confusion.

  Ann quickly pushed her tunic down over her behind, ran back up the stairs, down the hall, and bolted the door. Safe.

  “Aaarrrgghh!” Marcus stared down the assembly, naked as the day he was born, with his sword arm aching to lift and unman the bishop. The knife poised in his other hand waited to be thrown at anyone who dared move or even blink. In another lifetime, another place, he would have gladly gutted them all. Splayed them in half, by God. His men, too, would suffer for this insult. How the hell had they let their guard down so?

  He pushed his sword closer to the Bishop’s now-shrunken pintle, tearing skin. “You would sin in my home? With my lady? My wife? Answer quickly as I’m not well known for my patience, Your Excellency.” He spit out the word with such disdain that he knew all below waited for a river of dark red to flow.

  Thomas, the first to move, avoided his gaze and directed the bishops’ entourage out of the great hall, dragging the unconscious as they went. From above, Marcus waited, contemplating just how to unman the pig. Outside in the courtyard, restless horses nickered and men mounted.

  “Go home and thank God you still have breath in you. Never before
has any man seen The Beast in full temper and lived to tell the tale,” Thomas said.

  The bishop, sweating profusely, began the rite of excommunication.

  Slowly, Marcus lifted his sword and drew a tiny line of blood from between his legs. “It won’t count if thou art dead.”

  He hissed. “How dare you?”

  “No. How dare you? How dare you invade my house in the name of God, and try to take my lady on my own stairway?” He shouted to no one in particular, “Take him out of my presence and into the dungeon, before I slice the pig in half and place him on a skewer to roast out front on the great lawn. I’ll display his head atop a pole for all to see.”

  Stephen, his eyes and nose red from either drink or lack of sleep, stepped forward. “M … M … M’Lord, we have no dungeon.”

  “Oh, for all that is holy. Then it’s decided. I’ll have to remove his balls right here, like a sheep. Then, Dame March can roast them, and we’ll all feast.” He raised his sword a mite more and the bishop fainted.

  “Marcus!” Brother James stood in the front door. He wore no cross, no belt, and straw from his pallet stuck to his hair.

  “Oh, Hello. You’ve decided to join us for bishop-balls?”

  “Christ our Savior. Stay your hand. Think of the repercussions from Edward. What will become of your wife? I’ve rooms for men in the abbey and they lock with, but one key. You can put him there.”

  He considered that request, frowned, and kicked the bishop so fiercely that his round body rolled down the staircase. “Take him wherever you like. And while you’re at it, take his last confession.”

  Waving two of Marcus’ knights inside, James hurried them all across the room. “I think that can be accomplished.”

  “But not before we give the man plenty of time to reflect in solitude.” Marcus glanced down at his nakedness and gave a grim half-smile. “And after I’ve time to get dressed.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” James squatted beside the unconscious bishop, put an ear to his mouth, and raised his eyes to the heavens, no doubt thankful the pig had not yet met the devil.

  Marcus cleared his throat, then stood silent until he caught the gaze of each who had been brave enough to remain in the great hall. He memorized their names for later. “Now, where’s that other grunt, Abernathy?”