Her Rogue Knight

by Knight, Natasha

  Galahad slipped Abraham’s ring off his finger. “Abraham,” he said, holding it out to the old man.

  “Keep it, keep all of it. Everything I have is yours, Sir Galahad. You have my eternal gratitude.”

  “The ring belongs to you, Abraham,” he said, still holding it out to him.

  Abraham took it and thanked him. He then looked from Galahad to Gemma and back.

  “If I may have a word with your daughter outside?” Galahad asked.

  “Yes, of course,” he said, nodding.

  The two walked outside together as Alys helped her father settle back onto his chair. They walked in silence some ways from the house.

  “Have you decided?” he asked, just meeting her eyes.

  She realized how nervous he was at that moment.

  “Yes,” she said, her own heart racing, every part of her knowing she was making the right decision.

  He raised his eyebrows expectantly when she grinned.

  “Should you not kneel and take my hand? Offer me some token of your affection?”

  He smiled and in the next moment, came to one knee before her.

  “I have fallen in love with you, beautiful lady, and would be honored if you would take me for your husband. I have nothing to offer but my love, my protection, and this small token,” he said. It was then he produced a thick band of gold from his pouch. He held it out to her. “It belonged to my mother,” he said. She looked at it, noticing the deep engraving upon the metal.

  “Will you have me for your husband? Will you marry me, Gemma?” he asked.

  She held out her hand and allowed him to slip the small ring onto her finger. “Yes, Sir Galahad. I would be pleased to have you for my husband.”

  “Only pleased?” he asked, rising to stand, taking her by the waist and pulling her close before kissing her deeply.

  “Well, perhaps more than pleased,” she muttered against his lips.

  He lifted her and twirled her around, and she heard Alys laughing in the distance. “I love you,” she said, her smile spreading wide over her face as he set her down, still holding onto her.

  “I love you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gemma waited in the candle-lit bedroom, fresh from her bath, wrapped in his too big cloak. She fingered the thick band of gold around her finger, turning it a little, getting used to the weight of it, used to the idea of what it stood for.

  After two months, she and Galahad had been married. The wedding had been a quiet affair, but it had been enough, and she was happy. It had been a few weeks since then, and ever since their return, Galahad had been busy rebuilding the estate. Already the changes were breathtaking, and the house was slowly returning to what she once remembered it to be.

  She heard his footsteps outside and glanced once more at the bed. She removed the cloak she had been wearing, his cloak, but then pulled it back over her shoulders just as the door opened and he walked inside.

  He did not look pleased.

  She had been instructed to wait for him naked and kneeling at the foot of the bed. He had been very explicit as to the distance between her knees, the exact placement of her hands, the space her eyes should gaze upon, every little detail. But she just could not do it. She still felt embarrassed in the bedroom. He overwhelmed her, always.

  He looked at her, raised his eyebrows, then closed the door.

  She imagined her expression, her eyes wide, questioning, unsure as she clutched his cloak tighter to her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry,” she began, taking a step toward him.

  Although once she gave herself over, surrendered herself to his passions, she relished the feeling, something inside her still resisted.

  He halted her with a slight shake of his head. She stopped and dropped her gaze to the floor, to her bare feet peeking out from beneath the cloak that dragged around and behind her.

  She glanced back up at him. It wasn’t like it was going to be their first time together. She was no longer a virgin—he had taken her maidenhead on their journey and they had made love every night since the wedding. But she was even more nervous tonight as he had told her what he planned to do to her, how he planned to have her. He had been preparing her slowly, but the thought of the final act, of being taken there, was almost too much.

  “Why are you not ready for me?” Galahad asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

  “I don’t know. I was scared?” she more asked than told.

  Galahad’s expression softened, and he covered the space between them, placing his hands over her shoulders, looking down at her as she stared up at him. “Scared of me?” he asked, his eyes searching.

  She shook her head with a small smile.

  “Good. You have never to fear me, wife.”

  Wife. The word warmed her through.

  “What then?” he pressed. “What were you afraid of?”

  “I don’t know,” she began, looking anywhere but at him.

  He squeezed her shoulders. “That’s a lie. You know how I punish lies, yes?”

  Her head snapped up. “Yes, sir,” she said. “But…”

  “Tell me what you were afraid of,” he said, calming her by hugging her to him.

  Gemma softened, exhaled even as she lay her cheek to his chest. But he pulled away too quickly, holding her once again at arm’s length.

  He would not let her off, would not allow her any excuse. She was learning that about him, and although at first she had rebelled against it, she now appreciated and wanted it. She felt secure knowing he would contain her, could contain her. Since her mother’s death, she had been the one to make her own rules, decide everything for herself. This was a sort of reprieve from that; he was someone who could carry her, and she needed, at this moment, to be carried. At least for a while. And it certainly didn’t mean she would give up her independence. It was just easier to have him here, to know he was with her, her rock, solid and strong, someone to depend on rather than being the one responsible for everyone else.

  “I was a little afraid of what we were going to do,” she admitted.

  His warm smile turned into a devilish grin as his eyes brightened. “Well, wife,” he teased as he slid the cloak from her shoulders, “perhaps then you should be a little afraid.” He reached down to kiss her. She placed her hands on his chest but didn’t push back. Instead, she opened to him, her body softening in his arms—a sort of surrender.

  His kiss deepened, and she felt his cock harden against her belly. She remembered the first time when it had been inside her, how it had felt, how it had hurt, then felt so, so good. A sound came from her throat, and he chuckled as he ended their kiss.

  “You will give me the last of your virginity tonight,” he said, that evil little grin still on his face. His pupils were dilated, making his eyes darker now. “You will kneel on the bed with your back to me, you will stretch your arms out in front of you and place your face on the bed. You will offer yourself to me. You will ask me to take you, to make you fully mine.”

  Her face flushed red. She wasn’t sure at all she could do any of those things.

  He released her for a moment to pull his shirt over his head. “My innocent little wife,” he said, backing her up to the bed. When the backs of her knees hit it, she sat down, and he pushed her backward, laying himself partially on top of her.

  “I’m afraid it will hurt,” she said.

  “I promise it will be a good sort of hurt,” he said, kissing her, his hands cupping her bottom from underneath. “I believe you will come to love this particular sort of hurt, Gemma.”

  She felt every muscle tighten when he brought his hand to cover her sex.

  “I’m not sure it’s even possible. I mean, you can’t… I don’t think… do… that…” she stammered.

  “You can, and you don’t have to think,” he teased, pulling her up to stand as he sat down on the bed. “I am your husband. You only have to obey. I will take care of everything. But first, let’s deal with your punishment.”
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  “Punishment?” she asked. He held onto her one hand as he patted his lap with the other.

  He nodded, his smile teasing. “Lay across my lap,” he said. “Come.”

  “But…” she began, but stopped at the look in his eyes. Slowly, she bent forward and eased herself over his legs, placing her hands on the floor so her bottom was the highest point of her body. She kept her legs spread just enough, just as much as he had taught her.

  “I could look at you like this all day,” he said, one hand circling her buttocks.

  The position aroused her as well, something about offering her bottom to him did strange things to her. It was at odds with her resistance.

  “But when I ask you to be in position waiting for me,” he said, the first spank landing.

  She closed her eyes with the impact. “Ouch,” she couldn’t help but say.

  He stopped and caressed. “I expect you to be in position,” he finished, spanking two more times before stopping to rub.

  He wasn’t striking hard compared to how she knew he could, and she wondered when the real punishment would begin.

  “Can you tell me the other reason you’re being punished?” he asked, slapping each buttock five times in turn before massaging, this time focusing on spreading her legs farther apart.

  “I don’t know,” she said, but recognized her mistake quickly when the caress at her inner thigh turned into a slap. “Ow!”

  “Try again,” he said, this time sliding his hand underneath, cupping the entirety of her sex.

  “It wasn’t really a lie,” she said, knowing he meant when she’d told him earlier that she didn’t know what she was afraid of. “I was just…” He struck her buttocks again. “Ow, that hurts…”

  “Truth,” he said, striking twice more.

  “I was just embarrassed.”

  “Good girl,” he said, rewarding her immediately as his slaps turned into caresses, the flat of two fingers coming to rest on her swollen nub while his thumb kneaded it.

  She moaned, her body relaxing, her legs softening, opening.

  “Nice and wet,” he said, then stopped, slapping her hip lightly. He lifted her up onto her feet then, surprising her. She was expecting a harsher punishment than this.

  She looked at him, confused. “Is it over?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I have something different than a spanking in mind. I’m going down to the kitchen. I’d like for you to go stand in the corner while I’m gone, nose touching the spot I’ve drawn on the wall, hands on the back of your head. You’re not to move an inch until I return, is that clear?” he asked.

  Her stomach felt funny at his command, and her sex was pure heat. She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said.

  He pulled her into his arms for a tight embrace and laughed. “Don’t look so nervous,” he said. “I’ve never given you more than you can take. And you have nothing to be embarrassed about with me. I am your husband, I want to know all of you.”

  “What did you mean by having something different in mind?” she asked, growing more suspicious when his grin grew wider.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” he said, one hand squeezing her buttock.

  Gemma trembled a little. “What if I’d rather take the spanking based on how you’re looking at me right now?” she asked, looking up at him, worried, aroused, and nervous all at once.

  Now he really smiled and shook his head. He gestured to the corner. He had placed her there several times, and she hated it every time. It was humiliating. And he had drawn a circle onto the wall where her nose should touch, but for her to do that, she had to stand on tiptoe, which was less than comfortable.

  But she moved toward the spot, anxious, embarrassed, and aroused. She didn’t have to turn around to know he was watching her. Knew he would stay until she was in position. Once at the wall, she placed her hands on the back of her head and rose up onto her toes, setting her nose against the spot on the wall.

  “Good girl,” he said. “Stay right there.”

  * * *

  Galahad went out the door and down to the kitchen. He had made quite some headway in rebuilding the house, and he and Gemma’s bedroom had been his biggest priority. He wanted a large, comfortable bedroom for himself and his new wife, one that would be far enough away from the other rooms so that their privacy would be ensured.

  He had made his father-in-law’s bedroom more comfortable as well, fixing the crumbling wall adding thick tapestry to insulate the room. Mary and her children also had private quarters, better than most servants’, although he knew she was more than a servant.

  For Alys, he had taken special care. Although he hadn’t known her long, he watched her and worried about her. The doctor had confirmed she’d not been hurt during her ordeal, but she was such a serious child and what had happened at the lake still baffled him. He wondered if he would ever solve the mystery of the fourth jewel’s appearance. She couldn’t remember the man’s face, but she did remember one detail which she had shared with him and which he kept from Gemma. Morgan was right; Alys now owed a debt. And the man would come to collect on it in six years’ time.

  But tonight was not the time to think about this.

  He entered the kitchen to find his father-in-law sitting with Mary.

  “Ah, Galahad. I’ve a small matter to discuss with you,” Abraham began.

  He liked the old man, but this was not a good time. His wife was waiting for him. Naked and standing in the corner at that.

  “I’m just in the middle of something,” he said, seeing what he was looking for across the room.

  “It’s important. It’s about the deed to the property,” the old man pushed.

  Galahad looked at him, inhaled and exhaled a breath. “All right. I need half an hour. I will meet you in the sitting room.”

  Abraham nodded, and he and Mary left.

  He took what he was looking for out of the basket. Breaking off the largest piece of ginger, he sat down and began to carve it, all the while thinking about the delicious things he was going to do to his wife’s pretty little bottom tonight.

  * * *

  Gemma lifted higher onto her toes when the door opened, and he stepped inside. She didn’t need to turn around to know it would be him.

  “Come here, wife,” he said, standing at the foot of the bed.

  She turned and walked over to him, grateful to walk flat on her feet. She stood before him, eyeing the piece of ginger he held in his hand, wondering what he intended to do with it.

  “No more spanking tonight,” he said, his voice husky. “I do understand you didn’t intend to lie, but I want to be certain you understand when I ask you a question, you are to answer it not only honestly but also openly. I want us to be transparent with one another, Gemma. I want a good marriage, a wife I trust, respect, and love. To have that, we have to commit to being true about everything, hiding nothing, not even a small embarrassment over anything we do in the bedroom, is that clear?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “Did you remain with your nose touching the correct spot while I was gone?” he asked.

  She dropped her gaze to the floor. “For most of the time, sir,” she told him honestly.

  He nodded and made a sound that seemed almost a stifled chuckle. “We’ll work on that over time. For now, bend over and place your elbows on the bed,” he said, gesturing toward the foot of the bed.

  She eyed the ginger once, looked at him nervously, then taking her legs to hip width, bent forward and placed her elbows flat on the bed.

  “Good girl,” he said. “Hollow out your back.”

  She did, lifting her hips to him, feeling a rush of heat at her sex.

  His hand was on her hip, and as she turned to look over her shoulder she found him studying her bottom, his pupils dark, marking his arousal, which only served to heighten hers. He then placed the ginger root into his mouth once, turned his eyes to hers, then drew it out slowly. She swallowed.

&n
bsp; “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “What are you going to do with it, sir?” she asked.

  He grinned. “You’ll take it inside your bottom, and you will hold it there until I’m ready to replace it with my cock.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. She eyed the thick finger of ginger again, then shifted her gaze to the bulge that took up the front of his pants. He didn’t waste time as he brought the tip of the root to her anus, and she immediately clenched.

  “You know better than that.”

  She only needed to hear the tone of his reprimand to relax her muscles, softening her buttocks, allowing him to spread her open. When the cold tip pressed against her back hole, she made a sound and looked forward, her face turning red.

  “Good girl,” he said, pressing and rubbing the root against her tight passage while his other hand reached around to take hold of her swollen nub.

  That had the effect of relaxing her almost instantly as she moved into his hand, the sensation now familiar.

  “Good, keep softening, open for me.”

  He rubbed with one hand as he pressed the ginger into her tight hole with the other. Gemma found herself lifting her hips to him, pushing against the root. She didn’t mind anal play, and she liked it in fact when he used his fingers, but the thought of having the ginger plug her followed by his cock, his thick cock inside such a tight space, made her both nervous and more incredibly aroused than anything else.

  “That’s it,” he said, still rubbing. “Just a little farther,” he coaxed.

  She felt the pressure and pushed once more until finally, her tight opening closed around the narrower neck he had carved into the root.

  “Come up onto your hands,” he said.

  She rose slowly so she was just slightly leaning over and realized simultaneously exactly how the ginger would replace her spanking.

  “It’s hot,” she said.

  He cupped the back of her head and smiled down at her, kissing her forehead.