"Whilst? Only a man dressed like you would say something like that. And Callahan's is casual; I was only suggesting you change into jeans, what does witchcraft have to do with it? I still plan on changing," she said over her shoulder on her way toward the door. She didn't have to turn around to know he followed her. Clinking metal would have been enough, but she also sensed him watching her every move. She tugged at the hem of her blazer, suddenly a little self-conscious he might be looking at her ass.
"First my clothing, then my speech? If you are so easily offended, Lady Hannah, it might be best if you tell me exactly how many enemies you will need protection from before I can claim my reward."
"I was careless once and some thug stole my purse. I don't have enemies." She stopped and was surprised to see his mouth quirked up at the edges. Ah, so he did smile. She couldn't resist asking him, "Where were you then?"
"Fighting for my liege lord. I am here now."
"I know, looking for your reward. Well, dressed like that you'll be protecting your own honor on the streets. Not mine." She shook her head and unlocked her office door. She didn't bother to switch on the light, just reached inside and grabbed her long coat off the hook beside her opening. She slipped her arms into the sleeves, dropped her father's gift into the left pocket while she patted her hand against the right to confirm her mace was still tucked safely inside.
"I have no fear of the streets," he said.
"That's because you have a big sword." She winked at him and closed her door. She was shamelessly flirting with him. She should be ashamed of herself. Instead she felt giddy and maybe even a little bit naughty, standing alone with him in the dimly lit hallway.
"Perhaps you would feel better if you held my sword?"
She rolled her eyes and laughed out loud. "Just how big a favor did you owe Susan?"
"I accept no favors, my lady. I earn what is mine, and I am here to claim it."
"And what exactly are you claiming?" She narrowed her gaze at him.
"Lady Hannah," he sighed. "The witch gave me specific instructions to protect you and claim my destiny. You distrust me?"
She bit back her initial laughter that anyone would call Susan a witch. "Distrusting? Me?" She put a hand on her chest and gave him her best melodramatic huff. Susan really should have told her the man would be so outrageous and so damned sexy. This date might actually be fun. She decided right then and there to enjoy every minute of this farce.
"Okay, Lancelot, I'll play along. I thought we were to meet at the restaurant, so I need to go home and change. But don't expect me to dress up too. Okay with you?"
He inched toward her and the proximity of his lips to hers startled her. "My name is Sir Gavin of Rogueforth."
"Sir Gavin, it is." She gulped, and without thinking she reached out and traced the scar along his face. "Did it hurt?"
Gavin kept his eyes on hers but didn't pull away as her fingers followed the scar from end to end. He pulled off his gloves and the rough pad of his forefinger gently touched her chin. "Pain lasts seconds, honor lasts forever."
If she were the type to melt into a puddle, this was the moment. Who said things like that? Apparently, a medieval knight did, and if she didn't think about who he really could be, how he got here, or anything else rooted in reality, she could fall into his arms and live the fantasy. Just for one night. She was going to have to get Susan a better gift than the cashmere sweater currently wrapped under her tree.
His finger left her chin to drift along the side of her neck. Her skin sizzled beneath his touch and her legs began to wobble. Hot damn, were her panties getting damp? He leaned in close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath against her throat. He kissed her ear and the chain mail he wore rubbed against her breast through the fabric of her coat.
He was no frog. Damn Susan should have warned her to at least wear her lacy black thong!
"Our fates are entwined. Do you not feel the connection between us?"
Hannah shivered again, but she wasn't cold. She tilted her head back and bit the inside of her cheek. His mouth was right there, so close. Did she dare?
She couldn't deny the quiver of her skin when he touched her or the way her heart danced when their eyes met. But was it fate? Did she believe in such a thing as destined love? In the second it took to consider kissing him, he took control of the moment and lowered his mouth over hers. It took but a moment for his tongue to nudge her lips apart and allow him to invade. When she did, he claimed every inch in true warrior fashion. Clearly this large, gorgeous man was a formidable opponent no matter what battle he waged.
Heat rushed up her neck, down her chest and landed between her legs. If this was what he meant by claiming her, she wanted more. Hannah leaned in and kissed him back. Her mouth molded onto the soft, tender, but insistent lips of her masquerading knight. Her arms went around his armored shoulders, the metal of his mail cooling her overheated fingers. As if hungry for more, he explored her throat, giving her but scant seconds in between to catch her breath. His own labored breathing matched hers as he nibbled on her bottom lip. His fingers threaded through the curls at the back of her head, while her own fingers wound their way through the black hair above his ears.
Caught between her heart beating frantically in her ears and the ripples of excitement flowing over her in wave after wave of almost uncontrollable lust, Hannah found herself powerless to do anything other than fervently kiss him in return. He loomed over her, cradling the back of her head in his hand as he gently backed her up against the wall. With his low growl of desire filling her mouth, she had the urge to growl back.
"Miss Falcon, you and your guest need to get a move on." The voice of the night guard stopped Sir Sexy's sensual assault with the force of a bucket of ice water being poured over their heads. Gavin moved away from her, dropped his hands from her hair and stood between her and the guard.
Hannah touched her swollen, trembling lips and composed herself enough to answer, "Yes, Mr. Gimble, we were just leaving."
Gavin followed close behind her while they walked through the empty hallway toward the museum door. She felt his stare, those soul-baring eyes on her back. Her whole body still on high alert from his touch. All she knew was whatever favor he owed Susan, that kiss had been worth every penny. This giant hunk of metal with the gorgeous sea-green eyes was already a Christmas gift she'd never forget.
CHAPTER TWO
Gavin picked up the gauntlet and helmet he'd dropped on the floor before he kissed the woman called Hannah Falcon, and once again took note of his surroundings. Lights shone down on them, but he saw no visible candles. The air smelled vaguely of lemon and pines, but there were no rushes on the floor or fresh lemons anywhere he could see.
And the heat? He looked around and tried to figure out where the source of the heat came from. They hadn't passed a single fireplace on their way through the hallways. This was all quite confusing. He was out of sorts and not knowing what he'd find around any corner could break a lesser warrior. It was imperative he keep his wits about him.
The witch told him to pay both the time and place no heed. He was here for a purpose. And that purpose was walking away from him.
The lady moved with the grace of a deer. Though she dressed oddly, he'd been intrigued by her movements, by the sway of her hips. Her lush lips had responded to his kiss, he liked the way she tasted. He watched her from behind as they walked through this strange place with its many halls. From the tips of the bold red boots to the delicious way the breeches hugged her bottom, he'd already committed her form to memory.
"Lady Hannah," he called, while his eyes wandered from the abundance of auburn curls on the top of her head down the long lines of the wool coat covering her torso. "I must insist on walking through that doorway ahead of you."
His command didn't stop her; she kept right on walking. Clearly this woman had too much spirit for her own good. Over her shoulder she called back, "You're taking this role a bit too far aren't you?"
; Her voice trailed off as she pushed open an amazing door made entirely of glass. For a moment he stood there, rooted in place, with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Should he leave? Would he be able to get back home if he left the safety of this building? He knew his training, along with his mail and weapons, would protect him and serve him no matter what time or place this was. But, the unknown made him stop and think twice. As a warrior, he made battle plans, knew his enemy, their tactics and weaponry.
What lay out those doors? With no idea where he was, what year or what country even, could he tempt the fates by leaving the safety of this place? Would the magic which brought him here be gone?
Lady Hannah Falcon stood in the night, watching him, a frown marring the beauty of her face. No woman had ever dared touch his wound or look at him the way she had. His groin ached from the memory of their sweet kiss and of the tender way she'd caressed the heinous battle scar.
The only thing he knew for sure was that he had been told to protect a woman named Hannah from the future and claim his destiny. She had his heraldry clasp in her pocket. There was no choice but to follow her.
Hannah stood on the other side of the glass. She pointed at him. When he met her stare, she crooked a finger to summon him to join her. The audacity of the woman! She was ordering him? The task before him might not be as easy as he originally thought.
Trusting his instincts, he raised the shield before him and followed her into the night. "My lady, you take unnecessary chances. This behavior will cease," he said, stepping beside her on the hardened surface beneath his feet.
Cold, biting wind blasted the portion of his face. The mail offered a layer of protection from the elements, but he found himself so taken by the rush of activity on the street he barely noticed the weather.
God's teeth, this place is amazing!
He didn't know where to look first.
Men and women pushed past him; a few stopped to stare, several gave him odd looks, but most seemed in too much of a hurry to pay him any heed. Hannah's laughter and her warm breath permeated the air between them like a puff of smoke. A smile illuminated her face as if someone had shone a hundred candles in her direction when she pulled up the collar of her coat to ward off the cold. If only he could wake to a smile that bright every day, he'd consider himself rewarded.
"It's not bad. Let's walk." Her voice caressed his thoughts and he remained captivated by her ruby-red lips as she spoke.
"I will see you arrive safely."
"Of course, you will. Now, are you sure you don't want to change into something more comfortable for dinner?" Her eyes searched his looking for an answer. How could he explain something he didn't understand himself?
"I arrived with only what I'm wearing now."
"You came all the way from England in chain mail?" She shook her head and started to walk away. "Bet airport security loved you."
He thought she would cross to the park where horses were covered with colorful blankets and tethered to carriages, but she turned and walked along stone fortresses the likes of which rivaled the grandest castle walls. It was hard to resist reaching out to touch the stones. He didn't know what to make of the metal objects moving slowly beside them, the people yelling or the sounds of trumpets blasting around him, so he concentrated on his charge instead. He'd never seen so many people; it would be easy to lose track of Hannah in this crowd. He best stay focused.
Walking briskly beside her, Gavin took hold of her elbow. She stiffened at first and looked at him askance. When no verbal response came from her, he increased his hold and let her guide him through the throng of people.
"I traveled a great distance to find you. My attire was not a concern at the time." He leaned closer and even with the crisp air blowing around them he recognized her scent. Now that he'd tasted her, the sweet smell of her breath was seared into his memory.
He thought she might respond, her lips pursed and then she just shook her head and kept walking. Before he could blink a new scent wafted on the breeze taking him by surprise. Nose in the air, he inhaled deeply and his stomach grumbled.
"Chestnuts?"
Hannah nodded. "Over there, by the Salvation Army-"
"Army? Where?" A sea of people swirled around him and no one seemed the least bit alarmed. But he'd come this far and found Hannah. He'd honor his promise and protect her, even alone against an unknown army.
"Stand back. The army will not get to touch you, my lady."
*** *** ***
The next thing Hannah knew, she was up against the wall with Gavin shielding her. His sword drawn, he took on a menacing stance. He certainly had a flair for the dramatic. He could be an actor or a Broadway hopeful?
"Gavin," she said tapping him on the shoulder. "Last time I checked, the Salvation Army and their ringing bell were pretty harmless. I think you can stand down."
Shaking her head, Hannah stepped around her zealous escort. With a quick roll of her eyes to the few people staring at them, she laughed and motioned for Gavin to return the sword to his side. She walked over to the street vendor, quickly paid for a bag of freshly roasted chestnuts and handed them to Gavin.
"Enjoy. Merry Christmas," she said playing along with his ruse.
Minutes later they arrived at her building. Walt the doorman greeted her with an amused grin. "Good evening, Miss Falcon. Bringing your work home with you tonight?"
"My work is never done." Hannah smiled at Walt and took Gavin's arm as he followed her through the doorway eating his chestnuts. Something about Gavin wasn't quite right. He popped the nuts in his mouth one at a time and he appeared to be savoring each bite as if he hadn't eaten in ages.
Then again, she considered herself completely normal when compared to most of Susan's friends and relatives, so why did she expect anything less from Gavin? She'd seen her share of actors on the streets of Manhattan and had attended Broadway shows most of her life, but she'd never seen anyone this into their character. Moments ago with his blade drawn and his body in front of her, he looked downright fierce. They were both lucky no cops had been around to take exception to his brandishing a sword in public. As much as she loved Susan, she wasn't bailing her metal-clad cousin out of jail.
They got in the elevator and he instantly tensed. The doors whooshed closed and his arm went protectively around her shoulders, the bag of chestnuts clutched securely in his hand. With his feet planted apart, he swayed when the elevator jolted and started its ascent. She wanted to laugh at his theatrics, but the stern clench of his jaw, the tight thin line of his lips and the way his other hand gripped his shield tight to his body, made her bite her lip to hold the laugh in.
This was the guy Susan had been threatening to set her up with for years? She said he was a history buff, but this guy was a little overboard even by Hannah's standards. He lumbered beside her down the hallway. Although he stayed close to her side, his glances darted everywhere. The carpet, the walls and particularly the lighting overhead, all capturing his rapt attention for seconds before moving on to whatever interested him next.
"How about a drink?" She stepped into her apartment and held the door open for him. "And since I'm not expecting my apartment to be invaded tonight, why don't we leave the weapons by the door, okay?"
"My sword stays with me."
"House rules. No weapons past the doorway." She stood in front of him, blocking his entrance.
His expression turned cold. A good eight inches taller than she, he could easily overpower her and the thought made her stomach clench.
"Very well." He ground the words slowly.
With his sword leaning against the wall just inside her doorway, Gavin followed her into the living room. He lifted his arms and held them out, clearly expecting her to lift the tunic over his head. Was he kidding? She almost busted out laughing, but one look at his sincere expression and she clamped her mouth shut and swallowed her giggles.
Once the tunic was off and tossed over the back of her couch, he began the process of taking off t
he mail. From working at the museum, she knew how heavy and arduous a task it was. He bent at the waist and she helped pull the metal covering over his head. If she'd expected him to look less formidable without the mail covering him from neck to knees, she would have been mistaken. The white linen shirt he wore, open at the neck, did nothing to hide the muscles of his upper arms or the width of his powerful shoulders.
He obviously worked out. A lot.
She definitely needed a drink. Something cold to douse the heat which had started to climb from the juncture of her thighs up her chest and sucked all the moisture from her mouth. She could try to fool herself into thinking it was just the suffocating heat in her apartment, but one look at Gavin in his tight woolen stockings and that idea went up in smoke.
"Can I get you a beer?" she asked, walking into the kitchen and taking a deep breath.
He said something that sounded like yes, so she grabbed two longnecks from the refrigerator, popped the tops and took a quick sip from one to moisten her parched mouth.
Back in the living room, she found Gavin, standing in front of her Christmas tree. White tree lights haloed his powerful form, accentuating his wide shoulders, tapered waist and muscular thighs. Thoughts of pinching herself ran through her mind. This had to be a dream, right? The man was the stuff of her childhood dreams, adolescent fantasies and womanly desires…and he was standing in her apartment.
From where she stood, he embodied every fantasy she'd ever had – even if he was a little eccentric. But since when did her dreams come true? There had to be a catch somewhere, something would go wrong. This whole thing was too dreamlike, too strange.
He turned to her and smiled. The slight quirk of his lips, the twinkle in his eye, all the temptation she needed to go to him. Putting the beers on the table next to the couch, she sidled up beside him, and asked nervously, "So, Susan says you live in England."
"Yes," he answered absently, his focus on the tree. Gavin touched one of the white lights and looked at her. "No flames, no heat. I'm curious, how does it work?"
A Knight in Her Arms (A Sexy Time Travel Novella) Page 2