The Knights of Christmas

by Suzanne Barclay

  He wanted her.

  Benedick had never believed in fate, but yesterday’s strange dream disturbed him. It haunted him still, for fight it as he might, he knew a longing to be the man in the vision.

  Noel’s husband.

  For the first time in his life, Benedick yearned for something that could not be won by might or wealth, something that would not increase his coffers or his prestige. Despite all his previous vows to the contrary, he wanted to take Noel as his wife. But his desires were tempered by uneasiness and a suspicion that he would be doing her a disservice.

  Although Noel seemed convinced of his inherent goodness, Benedick was not so certain. He sought to put the past behind him, but it was a part of him, and he couldn’t help feeling that Noel deserved better than a battle-weary knight. And so he was determined to deny himself for her sake and tried to feel the better for it.

  So far he wasn’t succeeding very well.

  Startled from his somber thoughts by Noel’s lilting voice, he glanced up to find her leaning close. Too close. “Benedick, you must play, too,” she said. Oh, what he would love to play with her.... Straightening in his seat, Benedick dutifully took the piece of parchment she handed him as a lively group gathered around the table to share the ink she set out.

  “Now you must pick someone in the keep and write down his—or her—fortune,” Noel instructed with a mischievous smile. “Then tie it with a ribbon when you are done.”

  “Fortune?” Benedick asked dubiously.

  “Yes, of course. As the new year approaches, we all wish to know what it holds for us. And so we make predictions about upcoming events—and each other. ’Tis--”

  Benedick held up his hand. “I know. I know. Tradition,” he muttered, but he wasn’t annoyed as he once would have been by the admission. Instead, when Noel laughed gaily at his surly response, he felt the same sort of warmth he had known only in his dreams. It was as if he and Noel were bound by more than a few days together. They bantered readily despite the tension that sometimes flared between them, and Benedick realized that he was at ease in her presence as he had never been with anyone else. It felt good. Familiar. Like the home he had never known.

  Frowning at his wayward thoughts, Benedick snapped up his parchment and predicted much hard work in the months ahead for a certain squire who had enjoyed his holiday all too well. Then he sat back and waited for the others to finish. Some wrote laboriously, some lightly, and Benedick noted Alard’s cocky grin with misgivings. He hoped what the squire had written was not too ribald for Noel’s ears.

  As Benedick watched, Noel gathered up the rolls and distributed them once again. When she leaned over to present him a fat one tied with scarlet ribbon, he studied her intently. Although she appeared to hand them out randomly, he wondered warily if she had set aside a special prediction for him. Shifting uneasily, he was not so sure whether he should have joined in this particular game.

  The first few fortunes were tame enough: a rich harvest, a fat purse and a handsome stranger were vague enough to please those who read them aloud. Alard scoffed at his, and Hardwin greeted the eerily soothfast prophecy of fewer duties ahead with relief. But when it was Noel’s turn, Benedick glanced at her sharply. Yesterday’s dream clung to him, its own predictions all too vivid for his liking, and he knew a sudden urge to rip the document from her hands and toss it into the fire.

  Smiling, Noel released the ribbon, unrolled the parchment and began to recite. “You shall marry a man, brave and true, who loves no other as well as you—and present him with a healthy babe before the year is through!”

  Beaming at the announcement, Noel looked directly at Benedick as if daring him to dispute it, but he could not meet her gaze. Enmeshed in jealousy and doubt, he had to be nudged twice before picking up his own roll. He finally pulled away the scarlet sash only to feel his heart betray him with a jerk when he recognized Noel’s fine hand.

  “‘Your future is cloudy, for your path is forked,”’ he read. And so is your tongue, Benedick was tempted to add. “‘Choose wisely, and good fortune of home and hearth will be yours, the riches of the soul. But keep upon your present road and you will deny yourself all.”’

  Benedick smiled in spite of himself at her feeble attempts to influence him. Did she think that he, a hardened warrior, would be swayed by a mere game? Slanting her a glance, Benedict saw blue eyes sparkling with mischief and hope, cheeks delicately flushed and lips twitching with mirth. She teased him still.

  And in that moment, his heart, ever the defector, bowed in surrender, forcing him to admit just how much he loved her.

  The revelation wasn’t as startling as it should have been. Benedick wasn’t struck dumb, hit by lightning or visited by angels. He simply looked at his ward and, in that instant, knew what had been coming upon him gradually all along. And it seemed as if everything, from the first time that he saw her, had led up to this moment. It was love—not affection or lust or familiarity—that moved him, and the knowledge burned as brightly as her infernal Yule log.

  “But you knew that already,” she said.

  Startled by the words that so echoed his thoughts, Benedick lifted his brows in question.

  “You knew that you have but one choice to make,” Noel chided gently. Aye, but dare he?

  Vaguely Benedick heard Alard beg for Christmas kisses, signaling the end of the game, and the others moved on, but he remained where he was, savoring the idea that he, a bastard and a killer, could know this most tender of sensations. The elusive peace of his dreams was suddenly within reach, and he wondered if this feeling, so intangible but so strong, would be enough for her.

  Should he decide her future in his favor?

  “Benedick.” Noel’s soft voice garnered his attention, and he watched her draw her chair closer to his own. Soon she faced him, her knees nearly touching his, and she leaned forward to take his hands. Not one, this time, but both, her pale, slender fingers light upon his larger, callused digits.

  “I know that you forbade me to give you any more gifts,” she began, and though Benedick tried to interrupt her, she continued on, determined. “But you cannot prevent this gift, for it has already been given, without your permission—or my own.”

  Puzzled, Benedick eyed. her curiously, noting the slight tremor in her voice and the blush in her cheeks. “Last night, I had planned...” She faltered, her lashes fluttering as she dropped her gaze to their entwined hands, and Benedick felt heat surge through him.

  “But when you...” She paused and took a deep breath before beginning again. “Suffice to say that last night I thought long and hard, and I realized that I had used my wish selfishly, that what I want and what I think is best for you might not be right. In truth, I am no soothsayer, and I can not ordain the future.”

  Benedick lifted his brows in question, bewildered, once more, by her speech.

  She looked at him unswervingly. “Even though I still desire it,” she admitted with a smile, “I am rescinding my Christmas wish.”

  Benedick blinked. Her Christmas. wish? Was she serious? His gaze stole over her somber features and guileless eyes, and he knew the answer. To have such faith. Once he would have mocked it, but now Benedick found it as pure and bright as a star that gave light to a darkened world. For wasn’t that what faith was all about, believing in the unbelievable?

  Including love.

  “I know that tomorrow is Epiphany, and I will hold to our agreement, but I would have you know that you hold my heart in your keeping. ’Tis my gift to you, and you cannot return it, even if you will,” she said. Her smile wavered, and Benedick felt his own heart twist in response.

  She bent her head, her voice low. “I have another gift for you, perhaps not of greater value, but one which you might treasure more.”

  At her breathy whisper, Benedick’s hands jerked in her gentle grasp. Heat flooded his body, pounding through him, as he considered just what this present might be. Oh, Noel, you have no idea what I treasure, he thought.
>
  Although Benedick felt her fingers tremble, she lifted her face to gaze at him directly, her eyes bright and clear. And he knew. They both knew what she was offering. She would give him her body, without bargain or demand, at the urging of her heart, if he would accept it.

  He ought to refuse her, of course. She was gently bred, and had no business crawling into his bed. He should wait until they were married, at least, Benedick told himself, but he was hard and throbbing for want of her. And he was tired of waiting. After days of watching her, desiring her, loving her, he did not have the will to refuse her.

  Releasing her hands, Benedick rose. shakily from his chair. “I will retire now,” he said, his breath swift and shallow as he saw the blush rise in her cheeks. “Alard,” he called. “Since your holiday is nearly over, I free you from your duty to attend me this night. Sleep here by the warmth of the hearth, or find some other bed, if you wish.”

  Alard shot him a look, fraught with significance, that Benedick ignored. Keeping a tight rein on his taut body, he turned and made his way up to the great chamber, wondering if little Noel would dare to follow.

  Once there, he blessed her for turning the room into a warm, inviting, refuge worthy of her presence. The hearth burned brightly, coloring the sunny walls with a golden glow, and the expensive carpet was soft beneath his feet. Stripping swiftly, Benedick pulled the bed curtains partially open and climbed in, leaning back against the pillows as anticipation roared in his veins.

  Along with misgivings.

  He shouldn’t let her come to him, he thought again. He should tell her to go, Benedick vowed. But when his door opened, it felt so right to have her there—as if the dreams of a lifetime were real at last—and he could not deny her or himself.

  Noel said nothing, but stepped inside and bolted the portal behind her. When she moved forward, he caught his breath at the sight of her by firelight, her golden hair loose and flowing. She was wrapped in a fur cloak, and as he watched, she pushed it aside and let it drop to the floor, revealing herself to his ardent gaze.

  She was naked.

  Benedick choked back a groan as his body jerked in response. She stood before him proudly, her pale skin glowing, her breasts high and rose tipped, her belly flat and her slender legs delightfully curved. Then, as if she had used up all her boldness with her daring display, she hurried to the bed and slipped under the covers, pulling them clear up to her nose.

  Benedick swallowed a laugh as he looked down at her visible features, shadowy in the dimness of the partially curtained bed. Her eyes were closed, and she looked as if prepared to have a tooth drawn. Apparently her heart was eager to gift him her maidenhead, but the rest of her was not so enthusiastic.

  He ought to send her away and wait until they were wed, Benedick told himself again, but he had her now, in his bed, and he was not about to let her go. Slowly he lifted the edge of the blanket and pulled it downward, revealing her dainty mouth and chin, her long throat and the pale curve of her breast in the near darkness. At her tiny waist, he halted and folded back the cover. Then he lightly touched her brow with one finger. Her eyes flew open, her gaze locking with his, and whatever she saw there made her shiver.

  “Be not afraid, Noel,” Benedick whispered, though the words came out more roughly than he would have liked.

  “I am not, really. ’Tis just that I have heard it called a messy, painful business and I—”

  “Nay,” he said, stopping her lips with a finger. Breathing in her fragrance, mixed with greenery and Christmas scents, he smiled. “The magic is all around us.”

  Benedick saw her tension ease away as her mouth curved softly, and he traced it with his finger, shuddering when her tongue reached out to touch him. Holding himself in check, he trailed his finger over her cheek, along her neck, against her racing pulse, then over one silky shoulder and lower. His eyes followed the path, up her breast, rising with her rapid breaths, and slowly, gently, to the rose-hued peak.

  “Benedick.” Her breathless whisper undid him, and he moved over her, reveling in the feel of her hardened nipples against his chest. Burying one hand in her silken tresses, he took her mouth in lush, rich kisses, and she met him with delighted gasps and delicious strokes of her tongue. He paused for breath, savoring the touch of their bodies, the golden length of her hair, the beauty of her face, soft with desire, and the look in the eyes that met his own.

  And then he began again, with warm, wet, wondrous kisses of awakening and discovery. He caressed her hair, and put his lips to her throat, sending his tongue out to taste her skin, smooth and flawless. He tempered his strength, putting his weight on his elbows as he laved her breast and her nipple, careful not to draw too hard as she responded with innocent abandon.

  Finally, aching for her, Benedick nudged her knees apart and pressed his painful hardness against the center of her. The moist welcome nearly unmanned him, and he sucked in a harsh breath of restraint. Kissing her again, he took himself in hand and rubbed against her, bathing himself in her dewy heat until he could not bear it a moment longer. Breaking the kiss, Benedick gasped against her throat and positioned himself. He was sweating, rigid with the knowledge that this was Noel, and he must hurt her.

  “I love you, Benedick,” she whispered, and he lifted his head. In the shadows, he met her gaze, clear, unflinching, and with a low groan, he buried himself inside her in one long, slow thrust. So consumed by sensation that he could do nothing but savor it, Benedick closed his eyes, overwhelmed by it all. Pleasure. Heat. Noel.

  He was home at last.

  Her hips nudged his, and Benedick blinked as awareness returned. Although his head felt thick and groggy, he tried to sharpen his wits when he looked down at her. Virgin no longer, she did not rebuke him for his roughness, but wore a dreamy smile that made her appear as dazed as he felt.

  “’Tis wondrous,” she said, arching tentatively against him.

  “Wondrous,” he echoed, grinning at her, and then he moved, slow, sweeping thrusts that made her sigh with delight. He lifted himself up, pushing forward, deep and smooth, again and again and again until she cried out, her slender fingers clutching his arms. Her release fed his own, and it swept over him in waves, urgent and fierce and wrenching.

  At last, he collapsed upon her, barely summoning the strength to roll onto his sweat-slickened back. Drawing her with him and smoothing her long locks away from her face, Benedick felt totally sated, utterly content. He had lived the dream, and the reality was better beyond imagining. Holding her close, inhaling her perfume and feeling the gentle beat of her heart, he felt overcome with some strange emotion.

  Happiness.

  Startled by the discovery, he laughed aloud. “There must be magic,” he said, shaking his head in wonder as Noel smiled in agreement. “I do not deserve it,” he admitted. Although unable to stop his answering grin, he knew no reason why he, of all men, had found such joy.

  “Yes, you do,” she answered softly.

  “I do not deserve you,” he asserted, even as his grip on her tightened. It was too late now, for he would never let her go, whether she willed it or no.

  “Of course, you do,” she said in a voice wise beyond her years. And Benedick was struck by her prescience.

  “You knew it all along, didn’t you?” he asked in amazement.

  “What?”

  “That I would marry you.” He heard her swift intake of breath and felt her searching gaze.

  “Will you?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  Noel, as usual, surprised him. She neither gloated nor rejoiced, but eyed him intently. “Why?”

  “Because I cannot live without you,” Benedick answered, truthfully. “I love you, Noel.”

  Her slow smile warmed him clear down to his bones, and he knew a sudden, resurging need to possess her, to claim her as his own, now and forever. Gripping his arms, she lifted herself up to kiss him, her hair flowing around them, and Benedick felt himself stiffen inside her.

  “You g
ot your Christmas wish, after all,” he said as he rolled her beneath him. And so did I, though I knew it not.

  “Oh, no,” Noel said, breathless. “My wish was that you marry me. You must have fallen in love with me all on your own.”

  Benedick grinned at her absurd reasoning. “No more Christmas wishes, then?” he whispered. Watching her face, he began to move, slowly and surely, and reveled in her response.

  “For now,” she said with a gasp. “But next year...”

  Epilogue

  Benedick breathed in the familiar scents of the season, greenery and berries and spices, and felt his heart lighten. There was something about Christmas that never failed to cheer him. As Noel often said, it was a time when men were more charitable toward their brothers, but to Benedick, the holiday meant so much more. The years lifted away, as if he were renewed like the infernal Yule log, which seemed to grow bigger every year.

  Grinning at the thought, Benedick gazed lovingly at the scene around him, his hall bedecked for the celebration, his people busily preparing for this, the second day of the twelve days, and his children, all of them healthy and fine. Benedick drew in a deep breath at the sight of his sons and daughters gathered around the high table with sweets and gifts for his wife, whose birthday they were celebrating on this Christmas evening.

  And then suddenly, his vision dimmed and he felt an eerie dizziness, as if he had seen in all before: Petronella holding the baby, Godard with his back to him, and Noel seated in the shadows. His heart pounded a frantic pace he had not known since his days on the battlefields, but a vague memory to him now, and he pushed aside some of the revelers in his haste to reach his chair, for fear that someone had taken his place.

  It was empty.