A Knight and White Satin

by Jackie Ivie

  Everything stilled, and Dallis slid her cheek along his flesh to look up at him.

  “She does.”

  He shook his head. “Nae,” he replied.

  “She does. I saw her.”

  “What you saw was na’ real, Dallis.”

  “I saw that woman. She could na’ take her eyes…or her hands from you!”

  “You believed that?”

  He hooted a bit with amusement, and that displaced her face from his chest and her fingers from his belly. She didn’t mourn the loss. She was ready to slap at him.

  “Of course I believe it. I have eyes.”

  “Oh, Dallis. Such a treasure you are. Truly.”

  The expression when he looked down at her was so tender, she caught her breath, the fist she’d made with her hand relaxed, and her eyes widened.

  “I’d forgotten such naiveté exists.”

  Her face fell. She felt it. That’s when she pinched her lips together and narrowed her eyes, and glared at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “That woman lusts for you.” She said it with a tone that usually brooked no argument. She should have known it wouldn’t work on him.

  “That woman lusts for power.”

  “Exactly as I said.”

  He grinned, showing very white teeth, and then he sobered. “That’s a compliment. I think,” he said finally, and then flexed everything on his naked frame that she was supported by. Everything.

  “Payton,” she said in a warning fashion. “You get off subject too often, and too easily. You are to cease it. I tire of it.”

  “Best go tell the lads I’ve changed my mind, then. Although you should do it.”

  “Why me?” she asked.

  “You’re dressed.”

  “They’re your men,” she shot back.

  “You’re their lady. Sworn to protect and cherish.”

  “Do you always argue?”

  Both eyebrows raised. “Do I always argue?”

  “’Twas what I asked.”

  “Never mind. I’ve changed my mind again.”

  “On what?”

  “First light. I’d decided to miss it. ’Twas a grand idea a-fore.”

  “A-fore what?” she asked.

  “Your arguments. Ceaselessly.”

  “Payton.”

  Every other man had stopped everything and kept a respectful look about him when she’d used that tone. Not Payton. He responded with a bigger grin.

  “Verra well…Dallis. We’ll both miss it. And I’ll go speak of it with them, saving you the issue. In a bit.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Why canna’ you keep on task? We are na’ leaving at first light, and I wish to ken why.”

  He sighed heavily. “My wife is na’ letting me sleep. I’ll be stuped and blunt if I try and leave. I may even fall off my horse.”

  That time she did slap at him, but he must have known, for she’d never seen such fast movement as he made to block her hand with his. And then he kept it, brought it to his lips, turning it over as he did so, in order to place a kiss on the vulnerable underside of her wrist. Then her palm. Dallis couldn’t prevent each lurch of her frame as he tongued flesh that had never felt the like. He knew it, too, for he was chuckling when he’d finished, and put her hand back into place atop his chest.

  “You wish me on task?” he asked.

  She didn’t even nod. Her entire body felt too tensed and readied, and irritated.

  “Well?”

  He repeated it, but he was trailing a finger up her arm, and watching it until he reached her shoulder. He moved the gaze to hers, and completely stole her wits with the roar that seemed to crest through her, to end as a wave sound in both ears.

  “Aye.” The word was croaked.

  “Then, give me a task I want.”

  Dallis leaned back, using the back of his thigh as her bulwark to give herself space and breathing room, and stop the vexation that seemed to be emanating from the naked frame she perched atop. She put her hands to his shoulders to make certain of it, and straightened her arms.

  “The widow lusts after you,” she said finally.

  His reply was a hooted sound, but since he’d flung his head back to make it at the canopy above them, she couldn’t get what it was. Or what it was supposed to be. He was still grinning and rolling his eyes when he looked back down at her. Dallis didn’t change expression.

  “You are devilishly stubborn, Wife.”

  “So I have been told,” she returned. “The widow?”

  “She can have any man she fancies…and probably has. Why would she want me?”

  “You’re the King’s Champion.”

  “Na’ any more. I retired. ’Tis why I journeyed to my castle…and my wife.”

  “The greatest warrior in Scotland? Retired?”

  “I fulfilled the king’s requirements of me. He had nae other choice.”

  “His…requirements?” Her voice shook.

  “Are you starting to see yet?”

  He was entirely sober as he said it, and that just sent a ripple of shiver through her. It wasn’t pleasant.

  “Our sovereign is a wealthy man…when his mistresses are na’ taking it from him. He required funds, and I was a means to getting them. That is all I was. Ever. Nae doubt he has another champion battling for him already.”

  “But—this eve. This presentation. Those…followers…I doona’ understand.”

  It sounded it too. Her arms were relaxing and she was settling back to the enclosure he’d made for her between his legs, welcoming the hard surface beneath her for its tangibility.

  “I have a certain drawing value, Dallis. ’Tis what the widow wants. And what I am required to give.” His voice spat the last of it.

  “Then why do you visit here? You hate it. You said so. Yet…here we are.”

  “To ignore Widow Meryck’s invitation is a grave insult. One does na’ insult a woman with this much power, Dallis.”

  “But if she already has power…why does she want you?”

  “I turned my back on The Stewart. That has value to her. Revenge value.”

  “Why would the king care?”

  “Who do you think sired her youngest daughter, the infant Mary?”

  She was reeling in place, and nothing on her showed it other than the way she inhaled air and held it for long moments before letting it out. “She’s the king’s mistress?” she asked.

  “Former. She was replaced…discarded. Ignored…and then rejected. So now she is bitter. And vengeful.”

  “Then, what good will it do for Redmond to go to her this eve?”

  His eyes went wide and he stared at her. “He told you that?”

  She shook her head. “I’m na’ as naive as you believe. I pieced it together myself. So, why is he?”

  He shrugged. “Women must lust more for him, than they do me.”

  Dallis lowered her chin and glared up at him through her eyelashes in a pose reminiscent of his. He responded with more amusement. She had to resort to looking away from him and pretending an aloofness her body wasn’t assisting with.

  “Ah…Dallis. Doona’ act like this to me. Na’ now. Please?”

  She smiled at the carved wood of the enclosed bed. All it took was a bit of play-acting like she didn’t care? He was too easy. He sighed heavily, brushing the side of her shoulder with air.

  “All right. I forfeit. MacCloud seeks his own legacy in a different manner from how I got mine.”

  “You got yours through killing and taking.”

  “I prefer conquest and victory,” he replied easily.

  “He…told me it was charity.”

  Payton chuckled. “Fancy bit of charity that is. He tries to get the widow with child. A male child. ’Twould be the best way to force her to the aisle.”

  “He wants to wed with her?”

  “Only with the king’s blessing. And the king would bless him fair should he remove this thorn from his
majesty’s side. With titles and property and more funds that the king does na’ have.”

  “So…Redmond planned this?”

  “Let’s agree…that MacCloud does na’ fight against it.”

  “What does the widow hope to gain?”

  Payton put both hands on her shoulders and pulled her back into his embrace, twisting her torso so she’d be shoved against his chest and unable to move from it.

  “You need ask?” he asked. “I must be a verra poor teacher.” And then his lips came down on hers.

  They didn’t wait for sunrise, making it a moot point that neither he nor the woman slumbering atop him went to tell the guarding clansman of the changed plans. He hadn’t wanted to move her from where she snuggled, warming his side, and brushing a bit of breath across his chest, and making the entire area warm and tight and odd-feeling.

  He couldn’t sleep, and that was completely off-kilter. Payton never had trouble sleeping. Especially after feeling as drained as this vixen of a wife managed to make him feel. He still couldn’t place it. He felt all torn up over her, and knew it wasn’t love emotion he was suffering. It couldn’t be. He didn’t trust her. He had a scar on his temple to prove that much. And without trust, how could there be anything as perfect as love?

  But he did feel something. Something more vast than he’d felt before, and something so consuming, he was willing to stay in one spot while she used him for her mattress and pillow, even though it numbed his legs not to shift. That’s how much he cared. And that was just wrong.

  The tapping on the door was barely noticeable, but Payton turned his head toward it. They had but one high slit for a window in this chamber room, and there was nothing resembling light coming from between the shutters.

  It couldn’t be daylight yet. Not only were the nights longer, but he’d noted the log in their fireplace sometime after she fell asleep, and there’d been enough deep-burning wood to keep them into the morn, and partly into day as well.

  “My Laird? Payton!”

  Now they were calling for him, and in this castle with a volume loud enough to pierce wooden doors, that was unsafe. And unwise. Payton maneuvered from beneath Dallis with difficulty, disentangling her arm from about his neck, and her hair from every part of his torso it clung to.

  “Payton!”

  “Aye?”

  He had to speak it before he was loose of Dallis, because they were starting to pound at the wood, and that would just rouse the entire household, making any kind of an escape impossible.

  He was almost to the door before they started hitting at it again.

  “Cease!” He had the bolt drawn and the door cracked, and then he was looking at several of his men. Dressed. Cloaked. And glaring at him.

  “’Tis na’ dawn,” he mentioned.

  “You’ve moments. Dinna’ waste them.” Redmond shoved past him and walked through the door, before averting his eyes from the goddess stretching in place on the bed.

  “Already?” she asked.

  “Here.” Redmond flung his cloak at her. “And Payton. Dress. Quickly.”

  “What did you do?”

  “’Tis na’ what I’ve done, or dinna’ do,” he hissed. “’Tis fate. And cunning.”

  “Cunning?”

  “I eavesdropped. I overheard her messenger. And her orders.”

  “What message?”

  “The Stewart is journeying here. Due tonight! She was told to make ready!”

  Payton put both hands into the air. “Fair enough. I’ll dine with My Liege on the morrow. After he visits her. You should have stayed. It would have been amusing.”

  “She does na’ wish to be caught with me in her bed.”

  “And so you are na’. What of it? She’s getting what she wants.”

  “Nae! She wants revenge! And she has the means for it right here. Right now! Dress faster!”

  Payton had donned his shirt and socks. He looked over while unfurling the length of plaid that was supposed to wrap about his frame as a kilt and chest band and held it to his waist for the start.

  “I doona’ see the issue, Redmond. Unless you left her unable to desire him. And if so, I’m verra proud of you.”

  “Can you na’ think quicker than this! She dismissed me! With one word. And it was nae lover word. And then she sent for her personal guards. I stayed in the doorway long enough to hear. I’m telling you, we’ve nae time. Move!”

  “Go through to the wife’s chamber. Awaken the Lady Evelyn.”

  “Already done. With luck, she’s already in the stables, awaiting you. Everyone awaits you!”

  “Why?”

  “Because she wants to be caught with you in her bed! What better vengeance could there be? And she does na’ wish you aware at the time.”

  Payton felt his eyes widen, and his hands tremble. He tossed the sett over his shoulders for donning later, fastened his belt, shoved the sword into its sheath and slid into his boots. He looked across the chamber at his wife. Locked eyes. All his wife had for clothing was a cloak. And the very wrinkled underdress she’d pulled back into place the moment Redmond had entered. She was still the most tempting vision imaginable.

  He smiled.

  “We doona’ have time for this! Any of this! If we take the unused wing, beyond your wife’s chamber, we may get to the stables without getting spotted.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” Payton held out his hand for Dallis and they were at the other door as he said it.

  Their progress was silent and steady, with three men in front of him, while the others trailed behind, constantly checking. Constantly moving. Making sure of the path before allowing Payton and Dallis to use it. And then using the first available door to access the walkway along their wall. That way, they only had two worries: cold, and being spotted. Payton crept along the battlements behind his men, going to a crouch-walk between merlons, and Dallis kept pace the entire time. She was even giggling at one point, and that sound made his heart stumble, like always.

  Then, they were at a series of guard steps, carved without much skill, and difficult to see through the fog of each breath. Payton skimmed his back along the rock wall for stability, and silently cursed the entire miserable plot. It was blister-raising cold and sinister dark, and only a king’s fury over wounded pride could get man or beast out on a night like this one.

  They spotted the stables easily, as the lone brightly lit building, and the one generating the most steam into the air. The volume of horseflesh inside it guaranteed it.

  “How will we get through the gate? And over the drawbridge?”

  Someone asked it as they readied mounts for riding double again. He’d been promised an escort of fifty men. Mounted. That’s why he’d postured and posed and played at being a favorite. It had been for naught. And it wasn’t real. But he’d always known that.

  Payton didn’t even ask Dallis if she wanted a berth atop Orion and in her husband’s arms. He didn’t want to hear if the answer was nay. He lifted her into position in front of his saddle, and arranged the cloak over her legs.

  “We doona’ use the gate.”

  Redmond answered him, as he pulled another hank of plaid from his bag to replace the one covering Dallis. Then he lifted Lady Evelyn into the saddle and started walking toward the back of the stable.

  “We don’t?”

  “Nae need. They built this castle with a tunnel. Come lads!”

  Payton looked at his man in surprise. He didn’t even know Castle Ballilol possessed a tunnel. He decided the man was better than cunning.

  “Slowly now. And watch your step. I dare na’ use the path. We’ll have to wait by the crypt wall. In shadow.”

  “But, if there’s a tunnel, and we’re na’ near the gate—”

  “The tunnel will be in use, lad,” Redmond answered.

  “It will?”

  “Aye. We need await the party using it to enter. In silence. And then we use it to leave. None will even look twice.”

  “What p
arty?” Alan was hushed the moment he asked it.

  “The king’s. I hope,” Redmond finished.

  “Damn, but I hate this castle,” Payton whispered.

  Chapter 17

  Dallis shivered in the pre-dawn light and that got her Payton’s arms as he pulled her even closer to his belly, and wrapped more of his covering about her. She hated to think of how exposed he might be, but the warmth was too intoxicating and addicting to think of refusing. Aside from which, she wanted to be right against him, listening to his heartbeat, and waiting for the occasional grunting moan sound he gave that transferred weirdly into her ear.

  She nestled her chin into the depression below his throat, breathed deeply of the man-scent of him, and gave her own moan. And got tighter arms about her.

  The horse’s movement was gentle and hypnotic, with generous steps across a beaten path, and it was so close to perfect contentment, she was at a loss on how to tell Payton.

  “Dunn-Fadden?” She whispered the name.

  He lowered his head, running a breath all about her features. “Aye?” he replied, with the same whispered tone she was using.

  “That widow definitely lusts for you. Admit it.”

  “Jesu’.”

  The word was accompanied by a general shake of his entire torso that was probably laughter, although he withheld the sound of it. His features were in an open grin, though.

  “Well, she does. There is nae more dispute.”

  “Wife, you feel verra fine in my arms, and even better in my bed. If you say she lusts for me, then I’ll na’ argue more.”

  “Well, she does.”

  “I know,” he said. “Every lass lusts for me.”

  “As long as you admit it.” She turned back to contemplation of the throb of motion in his throat that matched his heartbeat.

  “Is there another…widow…at this new castle? This…Canongate?”

  “There is a lady of the keep. But she’s wed. To the laird.”

  “I will na’ be forced from my bed and sent fleeing into the night due to her lusts, will I?”

  He chuckled. Moved something on him enough that it lifted her to his chin level, and then he turned and placed a kiss there.

  “If it gets you in my arms again atop my horse, then I am na’ adverse to such a thing,” he replied finally, teasing her skin with more of his breath, hued with the frosted air.