A Knight's Honor

by Connie Mason

  Mariah reached the solar and stopped to gather her courage before continuing.

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  Falcon burned with frustration. Two days of frantic searching had yielded no sign of Mariah. The crofters

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  hadn't seen her; she was nowhere in the village. Edwina had returned to the keep and appeared as perturbed as Falcon. She knew of no secret place Mariah could be hid­ing. Falcon had been sleeping in her chamber in order to be on hand should she decide to return on her own.

  Falcon believed the answer to Mariah's whereabouts rested with Sir Martin in the cold grave they had dug for him. Falcon had scarcely slept since he had reclaimed the keep for Mariah. He had searched every wall in the castle for secret passages and found naught.

  Where are you, Mariah?

  Falcon sat in the chair before the hearth, but the blaz­ing fire did naught to warm the chill in his heart. He had to find Mariah. Robbie needed his mother.

  Falcon stared into the flames, fingers tented, his mind whirling in all directions when he heard a sound, barely audible: it was more an awareness, or expectancy. Antici­pation slammed into him. He rose, snatched up his sword and approached the door. Someone was creeping toward his chamber.

  He heard the sound again, this time identifying it as the soft shuffle of footsteps. His senses raced to high alert as he flung open the door. A shadow shifted, halted. He heard a small, breathless sigh as he pounced on his hap­less victim. His arm curved around a slim waist, his fin­gers sinking into tender feminine flesh. Her hair brushed against his face as he dragged her into his chamber. He'd recognized her scent immediately.

  He closed the door with his foot and dropped his sword, turning her in his arms so he could look at her.

  She met his gaze with unbridled joy. "You're alive! I prayed so hard for it to be true."

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  "Where have you been? We've looked everywhere for you. God's eyes, Mariah, I've been worried sick about you. Why did you wait so long to show yourself?"

  She touched his face. "It really is you. Sir Martin found a hiding place for me after Walter attacked me. He told me to remain hidden until he came for me."

  Falcon's face showed a myriad of emotions. "Did Wal­ter hurt you?"

  "Nay, he did not. I slashed his face with a meat knife. He fell and hit his head on the bedpost, knocking himself unconscious. Sir Martin arrived soon afterward, saw what I had done and found a hiding place for me. We both feared Walter's wrath."

  "You are amazing." Falcon grasped her hands, led her over to the fire and guided her into a chair. "Your hands are like ice. You must be thirsty and hungry."

  "More thirsty than hungry. What happened to Sir Mar­tin? Why didn't he come for me?"

  Falcon left her for a moment to fetch a cup of water. He handed it to her and she drank thirstily. "I'll send for some food."

  "Nay, do not waken anyone now. I can wait until morn­ing. Something terrible has happened to Sir Martin—I can feel it in my bones."

  Falcon knelt beside her and folded her hands in his. "Sir Martin is dead. Osgood killed him. Osgood's merce­naries deserted him when they realized they were out­numbered. Your enemy had no choice but to flee with them. They left through the postern gate before we could seal it."

  Mariah swallowed hard. "How did Sir Martin die?"

  "He died a hero's death, Mariah; that's all you need to

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  know. If not for him, we wouldn't have known you were unharmed and out of Osgood's reach. Without that knowledge, we could not have begun the siege for fear that Osgood would harm you. We buried Sir Martin in the family plot. I hope you approve."

  Mariah nodded, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Aye, I do. He was a good and loyal man."

  Falcon lifted her to her feet. "You're still shaking. You're safe now, love. Osgood will never return. He might find it expedient to leave the country before the king returns."

  "I thought you were dead," Mariah whispered. "I was afraid I would never see you or Robbie again."

  "I sent for Robbie and Becca. They'll be here tomor­row."

  They stared at one another. Tension radiated between them, a tension born of desperate need, a need that relent­lessly drew them together despite all adversity. Then she was in his arms. He was not sure who had taken the first step; it didn't matter. He only knew they needed each other, and that need was too explosive to wait.

  Mariah shuddered and closed her eyes. Wanting was such a fierce emotion. She wanted Falcon, but would he want her after she told him the truth about Robbie?

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  Chapter 17

  "Falcon, there's something I need to tell you," Mariah said.

  Falcon didn't want to hear it. Not now. Mariah filled his senses. He felt the immediate reaction of his body to hers, the swirling whirlpool of desire that overrode speech. No words were necessary at a time like this. He felt her quickened breath, and his body grew rigid. He wanted to touch and be touched. He wanted to love her.

  "Words can come later, love."

  His mouth claimed hers; his tongue prodded her lips, urging them to open to him. As she readily acquiesced, he explored and teased, overwhelmed by urgency. He broke off the kiss and placed her hand over his heart.

  "Can you feel my heart pounding? I cannot begin to describe how desperate I was to find you, or how afraid that I never would. With you in my arms I can think of naught but carrying you to bed and making love to you."

  Taking both of her hands in his, he led her to the bed.

  "Falcon, I want that, too, but first I must tell you—"

  "Nay, later, sweeting; my need is too great."

  He swept the rich thickness of her hair from her shoul-

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  der and pressed his lips against the silken flesh of her neck, and then against the pulse beating at the base of her throat. His lips plied their magic on her while his hands made short work on the lacings of her gown. The gown tumbled to her feet and her shift followed as his lips claimed hers. He reveled in her response; the growing pressure of her hands on his shoulders and her glowing eyes proved she wanted him as ardently as he wanted her.

  He kissed her passionately as he edged her backward. When the back of her knees hit the bed, he urged her down and knelt at her feet to remove her shoes and stock­ings. Then he stood and removed his doublet and shirt.

  "Oh, your wound," Mariah cried when she saw the puckered raw edges of Falcon's healing wound. "It must have hurt terribly."

  "You sent Edwina to me. Without her I might have died. But I didn't. You can see for yourself how well I am healing."

  Mariah watched in awe as he finished undressing, re­vealing splendid muscles and rippling bronzed flesh. She knew she should try harder to make Falcon listen to her confession, but her mouth was too dry to repeat the words. She would tell him later, once their desire for each other had been sated. All the fear and hesitancy she felt concerning Falcon's reaction to what she was going to tell him exploded in raw need. She wanted his love. She wanted his heart. She wanted him deep inside her. They would be at one with each other for perhaps the last time before he learned the truth and turned away from her.

  Falcon joined her on the bed. Leaning over her, he licked her stomach, his lips moving lazily upward to nuz­zle her breasts and suck her nipples. Mariah trembled like

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  a leaf in a freshening wind. The peaks of her breasts had hardened into pebble-hard buds, exquisitely sensitive to the touch of Falcon's mouth and tongue. Her nails curled into her palms as his tongue laved and teased and ca­ressed the elongated nubs.

  There was a brief moment when he claimed her lips that Mariah wanted to stop him and blurt out her secret, but all thought ceased when he plundered her mouth with his tongue, delving, seeking, demanding.

  A pulse pounded in Falcon's head and in his groin as he pursued his purpose with unrelenting passion. Mariah was his. How dare Walter
assault her! How dare he try to force her to wed him against her will!

  He tore his mouth from hers. Positioning himself be­tween her sweet thighs, he used his mouth to begin a slow exploration of her body, tasting every hidden crevice, every tempting curve. He strung kisses along the inside of her inner thigh to the plump petals of her sex. He parted her gently and bent his head to take the firm little bud between his lips and suckle it.

  He kept up the pressure until Mariah clung to him, be­seeching him, demanding that he fulfill the promises his hands and mouth had made.

  "Do you mean to devour me?" she cried.

  "Aye, in tiny morsels. Do you object?"

  "Nay, not if you let me do as I please to you."

  Lust rolled through him. "I can hardly wait, sweeting."

  Then he returned to his luscious feast. His lips found the soft hollow of her throat. He could feel the pulse throbbing excitedly beneath his mouth. His pulse marched to the same cadence as hers.

  He rolled onto his back, drawing her atop him. His

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  hands caressed the length of her, brushing over sensitive flesh. Then he grasped her waist and lifted her up so that her breasts hung over his face. Raising his head slightly, he licked and nipped at her nipples. A tiny moan slipped from her lips, followed by a gasp as he sucked hard upon them, each in turn.

  He rolled again, bringing her beneath him. He smiled into her eyes as he opened her cleft with two fingers and stroked down the sides, teasing her nether lips before thrusting his fingers deep inside her. Moisture dampened his hand; she moaned and arched up against him.

  His fingers left her. She could feel the heat of his rigid flesh probing her weeping center. The same heat blazed in his eyes as he gazed down at her. It intensified as he entered her, gliding easily into her yielding wet flesh. Mariah drew in a sharp breath, his kiss scorching the arch of her throat as he flexed his hips and thrust hard and deep.

  He lifted his head and smiled down at her. "You flow all around me like warm honey."

  Anticipation screamed through her senses. She hadn't realized how desperate she was for this, for Falcon. She arched her back against him and clutched his shoulders. "Please," she gasped.

  He withdrew slowly, filled her again, thrusting in long, slow strokes. She struggled against him, desperately wanting more than he was giving her. With his hands on her hips, he pressed her down when she tried to arch up, preventing her from controlling the pace or taking what she needed.

  "Falcon ... please ..."

  "Please what, sweeting?"

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  "Let me come," she begged.

  He thrust deep and held, grinding his hips against her pelvis, pumping into her again and again. She rocked for­ward against him, intensifying the pleasure. The tension gripping her body suddenly exploded. She screamed his name. He caught it with his mouth and held it captive while she thrashed wildly beneath him. He continued the steady thrusting until she went limp beneath him. She felt his muscles clench and gazed up at him. His head thrown back, his neck corded, he drove into her one final time. A moan escaped him as his orgasm burst forth in a powerful stream.

  They clung to each other in the aftermath, gasping for breath. An eternity later, he pulled away and rolled onto his back. Another eternity passed before he spoke.

  "I didn't hurt you, did I? I seem to lack control when I am with you."

  Mariah brushed a lock of hair away from his damp forehead. "Nay, you didn't hurt me."

  "I'll try to be gentler next time. It's just that... the thought of you here at the mercy of Osgood and Walter while I was recuperating and could do naught about it nearly drove me insane." He paused, then asked, "Are you sure Walter didn't hurt you?"

  She placed a finger against his lips. "Very sure, though he might have if Sir Martin had not hidden me."

  "Thank God he didn't find you. You'll have to show me your hiding place. Had Martin not taken the secret with him to his grave, you would have been found immedi­ately."

  "I am here now—that's all that matters."

  Mariah lay relaxed in Falcon's arms, fully aware that

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  she had to tell him about Robbie before they left this chamber. But not yet; dawn was still hours away. Raising herself up on her elbow, she began tracing a finger down Falcon's chest and nuzzling him with her lips. She heard him gasp, and smiled when she saw his sex stir and begin to rise. Then she used her lips, mouth and hands to tease him, until his manhood grew rigid, pulsing against his stomach with renewed need.

  She sent him a shy smile before lowering her head and covering the tip with her mouth.

  Falcon jerked upright. The feeling of her mouth on him was so intense he feared he would explode. Afraid that she would stop, he held her head in place and guided it up and down his engorged length until she learned the rhythm.

  Apparently, Mariah needed no lessons, for she began an erotic exploration of his cock with her tongue, from the tip to the root, while her hands caressed the sacs at the base.

  "Mariah, I can't... Dear God, you have to stop!"

  Grasping her waist, he pulled her on top of him and thrust deep inside her, driving them both to a volatile cli­max. Falcon held her close while her body convulsed and then stilled. Moments later, she fell asleep splayed on top of him.

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  Dawn lay heavy on the horizon when Falcon woke Mariah. She stirred, yawned and snuggled closer against his chest.

  "Wake up, sleepyhead," Falcon murmured. "I want us to be downstairs in the hall when everyone congregates

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  for breakfast. Your people need to know that you have re­turned to us."

  Mariah raised her head and glanced out the window. Though the day promised to be gray and dismal, daylight was indeed creeping over the horizon. And she still hadn't told Falcon about Robbie. She crawled off of him and sat beside him on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest.

  "There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago. I lied to you, Falcon."

  Concern creased Falcon's brow. "What untruth did you tell me this time? Were you afraid to tell me that Walter raped you? It doesn't matter. It wasn't something you wanted. Try to put it out of your mind."

  "Nay, that's not what I lied about."

  Falcon sat up and pulled her into his arms. 'Tell me. We're friends, aren't we?"

  Friends. Was that all she was to him? "I hoped we were more than friends."

  Falcon looked chagrined. "Of course we are. We've been lovers for years. I care about you, Mariah. If I didn't, I would have wed Rosamond instead of rushing off to de­fend you and Robbie. You should know that by now."

  "Have you forgiven me for lying about my relationship with Edmond?"

  "Aye, I've forgiven you, though I still don't understand why you lied. Was Edmond aware mat you were bedding me? I deserve the truth, Mariah."

  "Telling the truth is exactly what I intend to do. If you promise not to interrupt, I will tell you everything."

  Falcon sat back against the headboard and nodded, though his eyes remained wary. "Very well, I promise to

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  be attentive; I've been waiting a long time for this. When I returned to Mildenhall and learned that Lord Edmond was your husband and not your father, I was angry enough to wring your lovely neck. A man doesn't like being lied to, nor does he enjoy cuckolding a man he respects. I'm most eager to learn the reason for your lies."

  Mariah inhaled sharply, then let her breath out slowly. She knew this wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be said, even though Falcon might hate her afterward.

  "I'd better start at the beginning," she said.

  "By all means."

  "In the beginning, I was Lord Edmond's ward. He was an old family friend; my father named him my guardian in his will. I was thirteen when my parents died in a boat­ing accident. My parents weren't wealthy, I wasn't an he
iress. After their funeral, I came to Mildenhall to live with Lord Edmond.

  "He was like a father to me. I loved him dearly. When the king wanted me to wed a man Edmond knew to be cruel, he married me himself. I was seventeen.

  "I felt more like Edmond's daughter than his wife, and Edmond felt the same. Consummating our vows was awkward for both of us. But because Edmond needed an heir for Mildenhall, we both endured the process a few times.

  "Eventually, Edmond took ill and lost the ability to ... to sire a child. He hated the thought that Osgood would inherit if there was no heir. He knew Osgood would bank­rupt Mildenhall, and that our people would suffer under Osgood's heavy hand.

  "Both Edmond and I feared that Osgood would force me to wed Walter after Edmond's death. If I refused, I

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  would have had to leave the only home I had known since I was thirteen."

  "Then I arrived at Mildenhall," Falcon said quietly.

  "Aye, you were the answer to our prayers. At first I was appalled at Edmond's suggestion that I seduce you for the son you could give me. He saw his plan as a chance to thwart Osgood and his evil machinations. Edmond gen­uinely liked you and saw you as his last hope to save Mildenhall. Edwina told us that your memory would re­turn in time and you would leave Mildenhall."

  "You wanted a child from me," Falcon said through clenched teeth.

  "Aye, but our relationship came to mean much more to me than that. I began to care for you. I wanted you to stay at Mildenhall forever. I was heartbroken when you found your memory and returned to London. Shortly after your departure, I learned I was carrying your child. Edmond was ecstatic. He loved me enough to want me to experi­ence what he could not give me. With you, I learned what it meant to be a woman."

  "You used me." His words were clothed in bitterness. "Robbie is my son—my son!"