The Heat of the Knight

by Scottie Barrett

  A mead-induced notion occurred to her as she approached. Who would she really like to kiss? This was her chance to taste him while she was concealed.

  Of its own volition, her body moved through the crowd until she stood before Colin. Her whole body trembled. He quirked a quizzical brow, but he bent his neck so that she could set the humiliating crown atop his head. She could hear the jeers of the performers and the surprised muttering rolling through the crowd.

  Beckett laughed. “Suits you, cousin. Perfect fit,” he chided.

  The lute player’s lyrics could barely be heard above the noise of the crowd. She picked out the few words that cued her to the second part of her act.

  Beckett’s laughter stopped immediately when she curtsied deeply before him. Her arms were shaking as she stood on tiptoes and interlaced her fingers around his neck. His stiff, stubborn neck was as rigid as iron. His gaze skipped from her lips to her breasts and back again. She knew that lifting her arms had exposed slivers of her nipples to his eyes alone. He was refusing to kiss her, refusing to follow the ancient storyline.

  Feeling the heat of humiliation flood her cheeks, she started to loosen her grip. Startling her, he suddenly dipped his head at the same moment that his hands made a shelf beneath her bottom, lifting her so that her feet barely grazed the ground. The starling had flitted upward from her stomach and seemed to lodge in her heart, its wings beating furiously. His big hands molded her bottom, pulling her hard against him as his mouth covered hers with a fierceness that made her gasp. His tongue plunged into her mouth. Warm and thick, it felt alien yet completely delicious.

  The crowd began to cheer him on. She was caught fast in her own trickery and enjoying every exhilarating second. Unable to remain passive, she captured his tongue and began sucking gently on it. Her bold move seemed to shock him. He released her suddenly, and she wobbled a bit as she landed on her heels. His apparent bafflement did not prevent him from acting the protector as he pinched the sides of her bodice and yanked upward to cover the tops of her nipples.

  Quivering from head to toe, she ran and hid in the tent. Relieved to find it empty, she quickly shed the ancient costume. The canvas opening was pushed aside. Beckett ducked beneath the tent’s ceiling. His chest heaved as he stared at her.

  “Woman, you are driving me to madness.”

  “You knew it was me all along.” Somehow that made the whole thing easier to bear. He wasn’t just kissing anyone with such fervor.

  “Finish what you started, Christiana. Or are you just a tease?”

  His challenge shocked her. She took several steadying breaths while she fastened her belt at her hips. “Since it seems I will never be allowed to know the touch of a husband,” she said pointedly, “and I am not suited for the life of a nun.” She shrugged. “I will finish what I started, but I want my freedom in return. Have your way with me, then I will be on my way.”

  His eyes narrowed at her sharp words. The muscle in his jaw worked, and the set of his mouth was grim. He clearly wasn’t pleased with her unenthusiastic acceptance, but it didn’t stop him from saying, in a very dictatorial manner, “Go up to my chambers and make yourself naked. I expect to find you waiting for me.”

  She pressed her hands together and bowed in the manner she imagined of an obedient harem girl. “Yes, my master.”

  “Quit the charade, Christiana. You haven’t been subservient a day in your life,” he growled and flung aside the canvas door.

  Leaving the noise of the faire behind, Christiana chose a narrow path seldom traveled that followed the riverbank. She feared meeting one of the performers. She had no wish for a scolding or ribald comments.

  The exotic scents of wild roses and jasmine permeated the air. She took a bracing breath. Would she really allow herself the sinful experience of sharing a bed with the master of Dareford? Had it been her desire for independence, or had his kiss emptied her head of all sense? Why on earth had she agreed so readily to his demands?

  Christiana stopped to pluck a wildflower and heard a rustle in the bushes. There was a shout followed by cackling laughter, and then she was knocked to the ground, her face pressed into the dirt. She tried to buck her assailant off her back, but the person dug a knee into the base of her spine and yanked hard on a handful of her hair. She attempted to strike sideways at her assailant’s thigh, but another person took hold of her wrists, bending her arms and pinioning them to her upper back. A piece of cloth was stuffed into her mouth, muffling her cries. The sickening sound of her hair being sawed off made her weep. Her tears turned the ground beneath her cheek to mud.

  Christiana pulled the cloth from her mouth, but she lay without moving long after her attackers had disappeared. Finally, she heaved herself to her feet, staggered to the river, and contemplated her fate. The setting sun glimmered on the surface of the river. Kneeling on the mossy bank, she peered into the water, but she couldn’t make out her reflection. She drew her fingers through the tufts of her hair and cried some more. She imagined she could hear her tears hitting the water. Mayhap she should thank Maud and her accomplice for helping make her decision for her. It wasn’t to Beckett’s or any man’s bed she would be going to tonight. It would be back to the servant’s quarters for her.

  Christiana splashed the icy water over her face and scrubbed away the dirt. She had a fleeting thought of running away, but knew she wouldn’t survive. From her leather purse, she took her linen head-wrap to cover her shame and trudged toward the castle.

  Exhausted and heartsick, Christiana navigated through the keep, stepping gingerly over men slumped against the benches and strewn among the rushes. It was hardly necessary to be so careful, considering that their brains were probably soaked in spirits. The smell of sour ale and vomit made her gag. She pressed a hand to her mouth. Someone roused at the end of the room, and she hurried her pace fearing that a man might take advantage of the situation and leave his knightly honor behind. A big hand wrapped around her wrist, and she looked up to find Beckett glaring down at her. The embers of the fire reflected in his black eyes.

  “Did you get lost on the way to my chamber? Allow me to show you the way.” She let him lead her up the winding stone steps to his bedroom. She tripped at the landing, but he did not slow his step.

  His booted foot thundered against the door, throwing it wide. Once inside, another kick slammed it shut. The brilliant flames in the massive hearth illuminated the solar.

  “I believe I mentioned something about you being naked,” he said, surveying her from head to toe.

  Christiana could not move.

  “Disrobe,” he ordered and began tugging off his own clothing.

  Still she stood frozen.

  “So, you are a tease? Just as I suspected.” His anger seemed to vibrate through the vast room.

  A sad laugh escaped her lips. She swept off her head-wrap.

  “Do you think this a clever ploy?” Stepping closer, he lifted a lock of her hair. “You will go to any means to thwart my wants. Anything to avoid coupling with me, eh Tiana?”

  “Do you honestly believe I did this to myself?”

  She drew her hand over her neck and showed him the blood on her fingers.

  His nostrils flared. She watched him flex his fingers before curling them into hard fists.

  “It seems your attention to me has provoked your concubines into jealous action.”

  “Maud,” he guessed easily. “She has a venomous temper. I should have had you better protected. Anyone who is responsible will be banished.”

  He flung open the door and bellowed for his guards. She had never once heard him shout like that before. It was such an intimidating summons that, even in their semi-conscious states, men came galloping to do his bidding. His anger echoed off the walls. His boot spurs clanged as he paced the stone flooring. She could hear the drunken mumbles of the guards quickly turn to coherent words as Beckett’s rage increased.

  With anger still hardening the features of his face, he reentered the room a
nd shut the door. After dipping a corner of his tunic in a tankard of ale, he swiped at the blood on her neck. She winced at the stinging sensation.

  “I will take my shorn locks and bid you goodnight,” she said, pulling away from his ministrations. She felt quite confident that it would be safe to return to her cot. Her nemesis would certainly be apprehended before she’d made it to the servants’ quarters.

  “What does the length of your hair have to do with fucking?”

  His wicked statement brought a heated blush to her cheeks.

  “You are utterly bewitching.” He combed his fingers through her massacred hair. “You look like a snow fairy. A sugar-sweet pixie.” He took a tuft of hair and curled it around his finger. “No more games. No more excuses. Stay...or leave, but don’t play with me anymore, Tiana.”

  In answer, she began removing her leather garters. As she slowly slipped off her woolen stockings, she stopped and flicked her hand to shoo him away. Muttering an oath, he moved to a corner of the room to shed his own clothing. With predatory intuition, he seemed to realize when she’d completely bared her body. Instantly, he turned to face her, his dark eyes glinting from the shadows. She covered her breasts with her forearm and held the other hand over her blond curls. Naked from the waist up, he stalked across the room.

  Rather roughly, he removed her hands from her body. “I believe you did not hate me so much once.”

  “True. I liked you very much. I was young and foolish and under the illusion that you and I were equals. Now I see the truth. You are my master.”

  “Tiana, if you are determined to play the servile wench, then I intend to take full advantage of my power.” There was a raw catch in his voice. She’d meant to wound, but her words only served to tempt him.

  The man radiated potency from his gleaming black hair to his muscular chest to the thick bulge in his breeches. It seemed possible he could get a maid with child by merely smiling at her. A babe was the last thing she needed. “I want no consequences from this evening’s play.”

  “Understood,” he said. The slight downturn of his lips betrayed his irritation.

  He scooped her up and plunked her atop the table. He cupped her breasts and lifted them. “More than a generous handful.” Even his big hands could not contain them completely. “This perfect rose nipple is mine.” His tongue rubbed roughly over the entire areola. A shiver of delight raced up her spine. With a single stroke of his tongue, she felt in danger of yielding to his every command. “Mine, as well.” He tasted the second nipple.

  His gaze drifted downward, his long lashes shadowing his cheeks. He watched as his fingers petted the triangle at the apex of her thighs. “As soft as down and nearly as pale.”

  Bashful, she covered herself again.

  “Enough.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

  Grabbing her ankle, he dragged her to the edge of the table then wrapped her legs around his waist. Christiana felt a wave of dizziness and took hold of his massive arm. Beckett dipped his head so that his mouth hovered over hers. She raked her free hand through his hair, letting the satiny strands glide through her fingers, and reeled at the intimacy. It seemed she’d been waiting a lifetime to be this close to him. His lips parted, but he did not lean in to kiss her. Instead, he plunged a finger into her tight sheath. Awed by the invasion, she tightened her grip on his powerful arm. She felt herself get wet as he smoothed his finger in and out. His long finger was now drilling deep and deeper still, until her breathing rapidly increased. She was panting into his mouth.

  His gaze lowered, and he forced her legs wider so that one ankle was hooked over the top of a chair. Ecstasy shot through her as he completely opened her to his unrelenting gaze and watched as his finger penetrated her. She looked down, too, at the pink petals of her pussy, slick with the cream he’d coaxed from her.

  As he brought the cream to his lips to taste, tendrils of heat unfurled in her lower belly. Taking a step back, he shoved his breeches off his hips. He made an attempt to hold her gaze with his own, as though he knew his nakedness would daunt her. But brazenly she looked down at his intimidating cock and spread herself even wider in wanton invitation. Suddenly, denying him seemed unnatural. For one night of bliss, she was willing to give him everything he wanted.

  “Now that is charmingly obedient. Don’t you worry you’ll spoil me?” he asked, his voice rough. Beckett settled his big body between her thighs. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she tugged him forward, touching his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. With a groan, he grabbed the cheeks of her buttocks with his big hands, the fingers digging into the crevice as he pushed himself forward. He guided the head of his cock into her. She gasped, and he peered at her through sable lashes.

  “Mayhap giants and pixies weren’t meant to mate.” She polished off her mischievous comment with an impudent smile.

  One forceful thrust conquered her, effectively wiping the smile from her face. The masculine potency of the man stole her breath. Her fingers gripped the tablecloth runner as her body adjusted to the length and hardness of him. Her eyes glossed with tears. It was the most incredible feeling to hold him so deep inside her.

  “Lie back,” he instructed.

  The moment she complied, he stroked her slit with his callused thumb sending a frisson of excitement through her. She tried to squeeze his shaft, but her pussy, still stunned by the size of him, would not perform. He stroked more intimately between her parted labia, and her pussy finally responded, clenching his cock possessively.

  “Though you may hate me...” He found her nub and teased and tugged it until she cried out, “—your body seems to desire me.”

  Desire him? Her body had fallen instantly, worshipfully, in love with his. She raised herself onto her forearms, thrusting out her breasts. Her erect nipples were begging for his attention.

  Sensing her eagerness, he reached and swirled one of his thumbs over her nipple as his other thumb made an identical motion over her tingling nub.

  Her gaze focused on where they were joined. Feeling feverish, she sucked in her bottom lip at the arousing sight. “Fuck me.”

  “Most obliging,” he drawled. He dragged himself out and the honeyed-friction was enough to make her eyes roll back. Taking a firm grip on her hips, he shoved his sleek cock to the hilt and then withdrew again. With wicked abandon, she arched her pelvis higher so that he rammed into her with such intensity her trembling legs could no longer grip him. Her knees parted and her legs flopped open.

  Gripping her thighs, he tugged her so that her buttocks slid to the very edge of the table, impaling her further. Her toes now grazed the floor. Her thighs were still not splayed wide enough for him, and he forced them shamelessly apart. With her buttocks teetering on the edge, combined with the weight of her dangling legs, she was presented to him at such an angle that his cock found a deliriously sweet spot with each and every thrust. Through passion-clouded eyes, she stared up at him as he claimed her.

  “Beckett,” she moaned.

  With a groan, he withdrew suddenly and grabbed her from the table, crushing her against his chest as he roared his release. Once he’d set her back down, he braced his hands on the table, effectively trapping her. His lips tipped sulkily.

  No doubt she’d done everything wrong. Well, she’d held up her end of the bargain, and that would have to suffice.

  “You did not find satisfaction,” he said.

  “But I did.”

  He looked unconvinced.

  “Truly,” she insisted.

  Beckett, refusing to budge, remained a barrier to her clothing. Wishing to cover herself, she whipped off the tablecloth, spilling a bowl of nuts at the far end of the table. Walnuts bounced crazily across the room. “Oops,” she said with an apologetic smile and swathed herself in the linen.

  “Now you are testing my patience.”

  “I’ll pick them up.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the nuts.” He tugged an end of the linen, unwrapp
ing her. “Willful chit. You’ll sleep without a stitch on.”

  “Staying the night was never mentioned. I’ve earned my freedom.”

  He recoiled as though she’d struck him. “So that is why you kissed me today rather than crown me the cuckold.”

  “You know I am not that cunning.” Clearly, she’d injured his feelings, and it bothered her. Squeezing past him, she padded barefoot across the room. She could feel moisture where her thighs rubbed together.

  She climbed dutifully into bed, aware that she was transferring evidence of her lost virginity onto his bedclothes. A stain that would have been a source of pride for a new wife, she thought wistfully.

  Signaling frustration, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Tiana, must you fight me on everything?”

  “No, not on everything. I actually don’t mind not picking up the nuts,” she said with a smile.

  Even after the extreme intimacy they’d shared, somehow sleeping tucked against him would be too wrenching. Her heart already ached with the knowledge that she would be forever recalling this night. She lifted his heavy, restraining arm and slipped soundlessly from the bed. Draping herself in one of the fur coverlets, she tiptoed around and stealthily wheeled out the servant’s truckle drawer from under the bed and crawled into it. Having barely shut her eyes, she felt herself being lifted high in the air and spilled out onto the bed. She had to laugh at her predicament. But he wasn’t smiling.

  Standing with his back to the fire, his muscles gleamed golden. “Sass me all you want outside of these bed curtains, but here, you obey.”

  She remembered back to that infamous night when he’d serviced a bed full of women. “I did not witness this high-handed attitude when I watched you with your harem. Or were they already trained?”

  He quirked one dark eyebrow. He knew as well as she that it was a ridiculous question. Those women had been so eager and slavish that there was no need for him to demand.

  In a rather nonchalant manner, though his muscles bulged threateningly, he snapped the trundle bed into pieces with his bare hands, tossing the pieces at intervals into the fire. His dark eyes were unfathomable. Where did her dearest friend go? What had turned him into this formidable stranger?