“Good, because I’m not,” she admitted. “I have no domestic skills.”
He raked a gaze over her that made her feel sexy despite the red nose, watery eyes and wrinkled T-shirt.
“No doubt you have other female talents we can explore once you’re better,” he replied. “Now, rest while I make some calls.”
Twirling the unfamiliar engagement ring round her finger, she nestled back into quality cotton sheets and closed her eyes. “Thank you, sir knight,” she whispered, knowing deep in her heart the Templar would never visit her again.
It's Been A While
Peter spent most of the morning conducting further research into weddings at Cressing and telephoned there for more details regarding costs, venues and Essex county requirements.
Susie woke around noon, and seemed much better.
She took a shower while he made lunch. When she emerged, dressed in one of his XL T-shirts, his cock reacted predictably. It was an effort not to scoop her up, carry her back to bed and ravish her.
He shared the information he’d gathered, pleased to see her tuck into the chicken salad sandwich he’d made. “So it will cost us around £5000, even if we married in the Tudor Garden, which would be more suitable for a small wedding.”
She paused in mid-chew. “Well, the barns are way too big since there’ll probably just be the two of us, but still. That’s a fortune.”
“Hugh and Edgar will come if they’re not away, but you’re right.”
“Aren’t you going to invite Dr. Addis?” she teased.
“Doubtful. Maybe John will come from the Cheese.”
She sighed wistfully. “I would love to be married at Cressing. I have this strange feeling my knight is still there.”
“There was a Templar cemetery on the property at one time, so he may have been buried nearby. De Norrels most certainly would have been.”
“Well, it’s your money. I don’t have any to contribute, but I think it’s too much. We’d be better off saving the funds for our house on Cyprus.”
He stared at her.
“What? Did I say something silly?”
He shook his head. “No. I was suddenly struck by the fact I am sitting here calmly planning a brand new future with a woman I love but only met days ago.”
She put down the sandwich and fiddled with his grandmother’s ring. “Are you having second thoughts?”
He covered her hand with his and looked into the spellbinding eyes. “Not a bit. My life has done a complete 180 yet it all feels so right, and I agree with you. I’d rather put the money towards Cyprus. Cressing would be fitting, but too expensive. So I looked into Wandsworth Town Hall.”
“Near my flat?”
“We can have the Mayor’s Parlour for £380 and it holds ten.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Two days later, Susie was well enough to venture out. Peter had laundered her clothes—even her undies, which made her dizzy just thinking abut it. He really was a very self-sufficient man.
First, they went to Wandsworth Town Hall to register for the marriage ceremony, hoping to reserve the Mayor’s Parlour. There was a requirement of a 30-day waiting period and, as luck would have it, the reception room they wanted was available, thanks to a cancellation.
They decided they’d like to spend the first two days of their married life together at Peter’s before flying to Cyprus. The travel agent was helpful and found them a hotel that would be convenient for touring the Templar ruins. She also recommended a friend from the island who could help them find a house to rent.
“It’s all falling into place,” Peter declared when they arrived back at his flat. He set two bags of groceries down on the kitchen counter. “Go relax in the living room, and I’ll make dinner.”
“I feel useless,” she replied.
He patted her bottom. “Go.”
She sank into the overstuffed couch and put her feet up. Peter’s home was more spacious and better furnished than any place she’d ever lived, yet she felt she belonged. They’d been brought together by powerful forces neither of them fully understood. She accepted it, though she had to pinch herself occasionally.
A delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. “Smells wonderful,” she said when he appeared with two glasses of Malbec. He handed both to her, lifted her legs and sat beside her. He retrieved his glass then trailed his fingers up and down her denim-covered legs stretched across his lap.
“Everything I cook is wonderful,” he retorted, clinking his glass to hers. “It’s a good sign your cold is clearing up. Hope you’ve got your appetite back.”
She sipped the wine, wondering if she had the courage to tell him how much she wanted him. The bold, fruity taste and the need pulling at her inner muscles bolstered her resolve. “I have an appetite for something besides food,” she confessed. “And I can’t wait thirty days.”
Peter gripped Susie’s ankle. Simply running his fingers up and down her long legs had aroused him. He took a gulp of his favorite wine. “I didn’t want to ask until you were well enough.”
“I’m sufficiently recovered. I was beginning to think perhaps you were trying to emulate the Templars,” she said with a naughty smile.
He laughed out loud. “That would be why I bought condoms today. Drink up and let’s test them out.”
“What about your culinary triumph in the kitchen?”
He lifted her legs and moved to extricate himself from the couch. “It’s in the oven on a low light. Lots of time, whereas I am about to explode with need of you.”
He hurried to the kitchen with their empty glasses, turned down the oven, then came back, pulled her up and led her to his bedroom.
She looked a little uncertain, so he put his arms around her waist and pressed her to his body. They swayed together, breasts to chest, belly to belly, his hard cock pressed to the place he most wanted to be. He felt the need to be up-front with her. “I’m not a virgin,” he confessed. “Wild oats of a teenager and all that. But it’s been a while.”
She rested her head against him and put her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Peter,” she murmured.
“I suppose I’m trying to tell you I’m not a very experienced lover.”
She tilted her head to look up at him. “Do you want me?”
In reply he bent to kiss her, deeply, drawing her tongue into his mouth, hoping she tasted his desire. He cupped a breast, relishing the ripe firmness he’d anticipated, and brushed his thumb over a hard nipple. Her responsive whimper of arousal added fuel to the fire at his groin. “I want to eat you alive,” he rasped.
She drew the T-shirt over her head to reveal the cotton bra he’d laundered. Holding it to his nose after taking it from the dryer had been titivating. Seeing creamy breasts begging to be released from its confines sparked an urge to strut about the room beating his chest and shouting Mine!
He slipped the straps from her shoulders, reached round to undo the hook, drew the garment from her body and tossed it aside. He studied her naked beauty, wanting to imprint on his mind the perfect curves, the exact color of the pouting nipples with their larger-than-expected haloes. Reverently, he placed his hands beneath them and lifted.
She arched her back and raised her arms above her head, whimpering when he rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
“You are lovely,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to suckle each nipple in turn.
He savored her sweet taste, inhaling the aroma of a woman aroused. Her moans of delight and the tightening of her flesh beneath his tongue sent the little swimmers in his heavy balls into a frenzy.
He put his hands on her waist and shoved jeans and panties down over her hips. Breathing hard, she wriggled to help him then stepped out of the clothing while holding her breasts to his mouth. Torn between wanting to keep on suckling and seeing all of her now she was naked, he took a breath and stepped back.
He stared at the golden curls at the apex of
her thighs. “You’re blonde,” he exclaimed.
She smiled seductively. “Did you think it would be pink down there?”
A memory of the pink clit of his imaginings surged into his brain. He had to see for himself.
He tore the T-shirt over his head while she helped him unfasten his belt and ease his jeans over his hips. He hopped about off balance trying to rid himself of the pants, finally collapsing backwards onto the bed, his legs dangling over the side. “See what I mean about out of practice?” he quipped, feeling awkward.
But he sobered when he realized she wasn’t laughing or embarrassed. Lips slightly apart, she stared at the bulging package straining to be free of his briefs. He was humbled when she knelt between his legs, pressed her hands into his thighs and nuzzled her nose against his swollen cock.
“I love your scent,” she whispered, turning those wide eyes on him.
“Please,” he begged, incapable of forming coherent thought.
She hooked her thumbs in the elastic of his briefs and slowly, carefully, peeled them over his arousal. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she explained.
He wasn’t sure what had become of the articulate religious skeptic, Doctor Peter H. Bateson, but when his cock sprang free and she swirled her tongue over the tip, the needy man on the bed could only rasp, “Christ.”
Thank You, Keith
Susie treasured the close relationship she’d had with her brother. Now, she was thankful for his naughty side. Keith the rebel hadn’t hesitated to boast to his sister about what turned him on. She had taken it all with a grain of salt—until now.
Trusting in his wisdom, she hesitated only a second before tasting Peter’s cock. His reaction proved her brother correct, and the sweet saltiness caused a very pleasant tightening inside her most intimate place. “Do you like that?” she asked in a sultry voice she barely recognised, confident he did.
His reaction took her by surprise. Growling, he pulled her onto the bed and took her place to kneel on the rug. As his thumbs parted her lower lips it came to her in a flash of clarity that Keith hadn’t lied about men loving to taste women—there.
But Peter stared so long at a part of her body she’d never seen, she began to wonder. His staring made her pussy throb. Her whole body heated. She squirmed and moaned as a need built inside her. Then he licked his lips, lifted her hips and touched his tongue to her clit. Her mind went blank as sensation swamped her body.
He suckled her wetness, his arms clamped around her thighs as she rode wave after wave of euphoria. She keened his name, wanting the rapture to go on and on and on.
Suddenly, he was looming over her, looking like a hungry tiger. He touched the tip of his cock to her throbbing opening. She held her breath in anticipation, but then his lustful smile turned to a frown.
“Shit. Fucking condom,” he rasped, raking his hair off his face as he lunged forward to reach for the drawer of the bedside table.
They were going to be man and wife, hopefully start a family, what did she care about condoms, she needed him inside her N-O-W. By the time sanity returned in the form of a vision of being pregnant while digging in the dusty Cyprus heat, he’d already put on the condom. “I wanted to help,” she said, then giggled self-consciously at the silly remark.
He kissed her in reply, filling her mouth with the intoxicating taste of her own juices combined with hints of Malbec.
She was reborn as he slowly guided his thick cock inside her quivering sheath. The pain was insignificant compared to the joy of feeling him nestled to the hilt, their bodies joined as closely as they could possibly be. Then he began to move and the pleasure built again.
True to his nature, Peter worried he might hurt Susie. He wasn’t exactly small in the male genitalia area, but it perhaps wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t a virgin.
Those thoughts were forgotten when he felt her hymen tear. Being the first made every extra penny spent on ultra-thin condoms worth it. She was tight, but the pulsating grip of her muscles on his cock was excruciatingly wonderful. She matched his rhythmic thrusts, seemingly enjoying his total loss of control.
As his sperm catapulted from his body he stretched his neck, shouted something unintelligible, then collapsed on top of her.
When he floated back to reality a few minutes later, she was twirling her fingertips in the sweat on his shoulders. Suddenly, sweating seemed like a good thing.
“I should have bought a bigger packet of condoms,” he rasped.
She kissed his neck. “You can buy more tomorrow.”
He raised his head, awe-struck as he stared into the sated eyes of a well-fucked woman. “I’m worried twelve might not last until then.”
The Dig
Cyprus, Six months later
Peter checked his watch as he settled into the deckchair, donned his sunglasses and looked out over the impossibly blue waters of Larnaca Bay. He was thirsty after spending most of his Friday shopping for groceries and preparing dinner, but he’d wait until his wife got home.
He hadn’t seen her since Monday. During the week she lived on-site at the dig at Idalion, a half hour’s drive away. She claimed not to mind sleeping in a dorm, but was always glad to get home to their little cottage by the sea. After the ritual of lemonade on the terrace, followed by supper, they spent most of the weekend in bed, enjoying the view and each other.
Some weekends she regaled him with details of the exciting relics they’d unearthed; when they found nothing he kissed away her disappointment.
He spent his days touring Templar sites all over the island on his scooter. His first foray had been to Kolossi and the moment he’d set eyes on the castle, it had hit him like a ton of bricks that he actually knew absolutely nothing about the lives of the Templars themselves.
Walking in the footsteps of the knights who’d ruled the island had inspired him to write—good stuff, buried treasure, instead of the dry research he’d churned out before. If things panned out, he planned to publish his writings. Oxford University Press had expressed an interest after he sent them a couple of chapters.
In a couple of months they’d have some decisions to make. Susie’s stint with the dig would be over and she’d expressed an interest in going back to university to perhaps major in archaeology. Plus, she’d dropped hints about starting a family. His cock swelled at the prospect of making love to his wife sans condom.
The beep-beep of a scooter’s horn heralded her return home. Humming, he took off his sunglasses and hurried to the galley kitchen. He retrieved the jug of lemonade from the fridge just as a gorgeous bronzed blonde came in, helmet in hand.
“Hey Dr. Bateson,” she said with a smile in that sexy Welsh lilt that never failed to turn him on.
“Hey Mrs. Bateson,” he replied, handing her a glass of lemonade. “Ready for another weekend in paradise?”
She gulped the cool drink, then put her arms around him and planted a cold, wet kiss on his lips before pressing a hand to his arousal. “I see you are,” she whispered with a wink.
Footnotes
IDALION For a history of the excavations at Idalion in Cyprus you can go to http://www.lycoming.edu/archaeology/digs/historyOfExcavation.aspx OR http://digs.bib-arch.org/digs/idalion.asp
CRESSING TEMPLE http://www.visitparks.co.uk/places/cressing-temple/#tab_overview has excellent pictures of the barns or you can search Google Images.
YE OLDE CHESHIRE CHEESE Google will provide a long list of sites about this landmark London pub.
THE TEMPLARS IN CYPRUS If you’re interested in discovering more about his period of the Order’s history, Google is a good starting place.
About Anna
Thank you for reading KNIGHTLY DREAMS. If you’d like to leave a review where you purchased the book, I would appreciate it. Reviews contribute greatly to an author’s success.
For a complete list of my books, you can visit my website. I also have a Facebook page, Anna Markland Novels.
Tweet me @annamarkland, and join me on Pinterest. If
you want to try another sample of my work, you can download a FREE novella, Defiant Passion.
In my bestselling, page-turning novels passion conquers whatever obstacles a hostile medieval world can throw in its path.
Besides writing, I have two addictions-crosswords and genealogy, probably the reason I love research.
I am a fool for cats.
My husband is an entrepreneur who is fond of boasting he’s never had a job.
I live on Canada’s scenic west coast now, but I was born and raised in the UK and I love breathing life into history.
Escape with me to where romance began and get intimate with history.
I hope you come to know and love my cast of characters as much as I do.
I’d like to acknowledge the assistance of my critique partners, Reggi Allder, Jacquie Biggar, Sylvie Grayson, Alice Valdal and LizAnn Carson.
Knightly Dreams Page 7