A Hard Day's Knight

by Cate Masters

  Reason fled, taking his sanity along with it. Blood rushed through his veins, muting sounds and sights. Only she was real, warm and soft, her skin satin to his touch. “Gwyn….” He ached to tell her, but had no words.

  At a lively tune, motion erupted all around. Couples broke apart, dancing on skipping feet to new partners, hand over hand.

  In the instant he loosened his hold, someone moved between them, twirling Gwyn from his reach. A woman grasped Lance’s hand and sent him reeling down the line of dancers. Straight toward the wench.

  Her long nails dug into his arm. “Lance. Time for you to leave. Now.”

  Touching her grated every nerve. “I leave in the morning.” Why had Morganna shown herself now? He’d waited for this moment for so long. He cursed himself for leaving his blade hidden on his motorcycle, as always.

  She grazed her ruby lips against his cheek. “I think you’d better go now.”

  Heat stung his veins like embers. He steadied himself. “No, Morganna.” Damn if he’d let her rule his life for eternity.

  Eyes narrowed, she clucked her tongue. “Such a shame. Your girlfriend’s already found someone new.”

  “What?” His heart leapt against his ribs as he strained to locate her. “If you hurt her, I’ll—”

  “Don’t bother with empty threats, Lance. You have no power.” She left no doubt as to her meaning.

  “Maybe you don’t either, Morgan.” Truth rang in his words, and the thing he most avoided wrapped around his heart like the ends of a whip. Dare he believe Morganna had shown up because Gwyn posed a threat? Was that why his wanderlust quelled in Gwyn’s presence?

  A hiss seethed through the witch’s lips, now twisted with rage.

  He felt no need to cower. To kowtow to her will as his drained away. Instead, strength twined through his limbs. Yes, perhaps the sorceress’ hold somehow loosened tonight. Perhaps he might yet reclaim his soul. His life.

  Unable to bear another moment in her company, he pushed her away and sent her stumbling backward then strode through the dancers. “Gwyn!” First, he had to reclaim her.

  The lute player looked over his shoulder, dragging a sluggish blonde toward an exit.

  “Gwyn!” Lance sprinted through the moving bodies, blocked at every step by someone hurtling past. Trapped in the maze of dancers, he watched her disappear with the musician through the exit. When he finally burst through the crowd at the edge of the dance floor, laughter echoed through the room as if broadcast through the speakers.

  Fear took root, an emotion long forgotten. Until now, he had nothing worth losing. He wouldn’t let the witch win. Not this time. Especially if losing meant harm to Gwyn, or never seeing her again.

  ***

  Vision blurred, Gwyn clutched Brett’s shirt and stumbled along. “Where are you taking me?” Haze shrouded her thoughts. “I want to go back.”

  “You’re better off without that loser.”

  Anger renewed her strength, and she dug her heels into the carpet. “Let go, Brett.”

  Buzzing sounded. He dug into his pocket and drew out his cell. Modern conveniences were cause for dismissal if Gwyn reported him. His pained expression told her he’d already been busted.

  “Yes?” His face blanched and his eyes snapped upward.

  She followed his gaze to the video camera mounted near the ceiling. Ha! Yes, busted. She jerked her arm from his grasp without any protest from Brett, who looked like he might puke.

  “Yes sir. But I—” The caller’s voice surged through the cell, and Brett nodded. “Yes. Right away.” He snapped the phone shut. “I have to go. Sorry about this. That woman, Morgan, said that guy was dangerous. I wanted to keep Gwyn safe.” He said the last to the camera. A plea for a final reprieve before termination?

  “Dangerous? That’s crazy.” Fear erased the clouds from her senses, sharpened them. Maybe Lance was the one in danger. “I have to get back.” Hitching her skirt, she rushed down the corridor.

  Rounding the bend, her heart leapt at the sight of him running toward her. “Lance! Are you all right?”

  He slowed his long strides, relief plain in his face. “Are you?”

  She patted his chest. “What’s going on?” Something about this seemed oddly familiar. “Who is that crazy witch?”

  He stilled, staring. “Morgan le Fay. A witch, truly.”

  Fear tingled up her spine, stealing her breath. “What?” She’d heard that name; like a nightmarish child’s dream, it arose from her deepest memory.

  “I can’t explain right now.” His grip tight on her arm, he guided her down the corridor.

  “Wait.” She jerked from his grasp. “This is crazy.” Did he perform a farce? For her benefit? No, if he wanted to be rid of her, he’d simply leave.

  Pain shrouded his face. “This day has led me where I never dared hope to go again. Gwyn….”

  The way he looked at her—like she caused him intense suffering—held her in place, stiff with confusion. “I need to know.”

  “So do I.” With swift steps, he advanced.

  Unsure what to expect, she backed away, the wall halting her retreat. His arms swept around her, his lips warm on hers. The thrill hit like a shock and stole her breath and thoughts. The more he touched her, the more she came alive.

  His mouth moved across her cheek in rough kisses, like he wanted to devour her, too. Her lips trailed his neck, teeth grazing his stubbled jaw. When his tongue circled her ear, she only knew she needed more. Skin to skin.

  His head dipped to her chest, lips caressing the edge of her bodice, across the top of her breasts, igniting a flame that threatened to melt her to the bone.

  Reason returned when she realized his fingers tangled in the laces to loosen them. “Not here.” Much as she’d love to, Castillo Resorts generally frowned upon sex in a public area with a customer.

  “Gwyn.” The steel in his blue eyes had turned molten.

  She cupped his face and drew him to her for a brief kiss. He pressed deeper, and she melded against him.

  A noise in the adjoining hallway roused her. “We should go.”

  Heaving a ragged breath, he touched his forehead to hers. “Yes, you’re right. Morganna will follow.”

  And do what? But Gwyn didn’t really want to know. “My apartment’s not far.”

  “No.” His response came as a command. He added more softly, “She can never know where you live.”

  His protectiveness infused her with warmth. “Then where can we go?”

  “My Harley’s out back. Let’s put some distance between us and her, and then discuss it. We’ve already lost precious time.”

  He grasped her hand and she hurried beside him through the winding corridors. At the first exit, he pushed open the door and ushered her through, keen eyes scanning the shadows behind them. His arm encircled her waist, hurrying her across the parking lot. They halted under a streetlight, the Harley beside it.

  His leg swung over the bike. He walked it out of the parking spot. It roared to life, and he revved it. “Get on.”

  Good thing she wore an A-line gown. Lifting her skirt, she slid her leg across the seat and fitted herself against his back. When the Harley sped forward, she grabbed his waist then hugged him tight. Another weirdly familiar scenario. Yet no way had they done this before.

  They wound through the streets of Las Vegas, more crowded than during midday. Neon lights blinked on every high-rise and club. When they left the glare of the city, stars filled the sky over the desert. So beautiful. She relaxed against him, wishing they could enjoy the moment.

  But no, Morgan tainted it, her threats following like a vengeful ghost. Gwyn checked the road behind them constantly, half-expecting to see a spirit rush up, snapping its sharp teeth. All her senses told her it would happen.

  The rush of night air did nothing to calm Lance. But for once, he wasn’t swept along by overwhelming pain, the curse of Morgan le Fay for loving Guinevere.

  Centuries of suffering hadn’t appeased he
r. The witch wanted him to suffer forever. The thought spurred him faster. Out of her reach. Did such a place exist?

  Gwyn tightened her hold, her mouth at his ear. “Where are we going?”

  He relaxed his hand on the throttle. They couldn’t run forever.

  Slowing, he steered the bike off the highway and halted. He raked a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

  She leaned her chin on his shoulder “For what?”

  “For getting you into this.” Nostrils flared, a nerve pulsed in his cheek as he stared into the distance, expecting the darkness to reveal her any moment.

  “Don’t apologize.” She climbed off the Harley.

  He rose beside her, too ashamed to face her. “I should never have come tonight.”

  “Don’t say that.” She clutched his shirt.

  The hurt in her voice wounded him. “It’s true. I knew Kurt might try something stupid like this, but I ignored it.”

  Frowning, she withdrew and rubbed her arms. “It wasn’t stupid.”

  “The one-night stand? Are you serious?” Maybe the idiot musician had drugged her.

  She slid her palms across his. “It brought us together.”

  He heaved a breath. “Yes.”

  Easing closer, she peered up. “You’re sorry about it?”

  “No. Yes.” Unable to think clearly, he broke away to pace.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean, it’s very good for me. Bad for you.” He closed the distance between them. Hands at her shoulders, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

  She smiled up at him. “It won’t. Everything will work out.”

  “You don’t know what we’re up against.” But when she said it, he almost believed it. Until the scent of apples rent the balmy breeze.

  Gwyn had had enough of bad luck. She’d finally found a guy, possibly the incarnation of her dream guy. And now some hag wanted to spirit him away? No way would she let that happen, even if it meant risking everything. All she had to do was find a way to strip Morgan of her power over them. Easy peasy, right?

  Right. A certain sort of witch, Gwyn had no trouble dealing with. But an actual sorceress? Might prove a little trickier. But they had to hurry. Something told her the witch lurked nearby. “Give me the CliffsNotes version. Quick.”

  Eyes narrowed, his lips pinched together. “You’ll think me mad.”

  “No more insane than people normally think I am.” No need to go there now. Her fantasy that she belonged in Medieval times caused most people to sputter, check the time, and scurry off. “Hurry. What hold does Morgan le Fay have over you?”

  Softness rounded Lance’s steely blue eyes. “A long time ago, I loved Guinevere.”

  Gwyn’s head spun. Guinevere? Lance Knight? Morgan le Fay? This was all too much. Focus. “And Morgan wanted you for herself?”

  “The only thing Morgan lusts after is revenge. Guinevere caught her with a lover. Not content with exposing Guinevere’s love for me, Morgan cast me into the future. If I stay too long in any one place, it becomes painful. Physically. The pain grows in severity until I leave.”

  “So that’s why you have to go to Sedona.” At least he wasn’t running from her.

  “And why I’ll have to eventually leave Sedona.”

  Damn if she’d let that witch get away with it. She paced, thoughts racing through her mind. No viable solution presented itself. “I need more information.”

  “Why?”

  She halted to face him. “So we can figure out how to get rid of Morgan once and for all. There has to be a way to free you from her spell, or whatever it is.”

  He rocked her in his arms. “All I know is, when I’m with you, the pain subsides.”

  She drew back to stare. “Really? When you’re with me?” Warmth suffused her, happy in the knowledge. But it cooled; he couldn’t stay with her every moment of every day.

  There had to be another way. A thought struck her. Maybe they had a chance. Their combined forces, or whatever, might be too much for old Morgan to handle.

  “Yes,” he said, turning thoughtful. “Unless something else changed tonight.”

  “Oh.” Right. He’d never been to Medieval Merriment before. Maybe something about it strengthened his defenses. “But the Castillos wouldn’t use anything authentic at the themed dinner.” Or anywhere in the resort, unless someone guarded the priceless items.

  His attention sharpened on her. “You’re thinking some object there might be from the past?”

  “No, it makes no sense.” Unless part of her was so pathetic, she couldn’t admit Lance didn’t need her.

  A breeze whispered like laughter, bringing the scent of apple across the desert.

  Lance glanced up. “She’s coming.”

  “On what? There are no vehicles on the highway.”

  His deep voice held a grim warning. “Morgan travels on no highway. She has her own particular vehicles.”

  “Can your bike outrun her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  A gust of wind kicked up sand. Dark clouds scudded across the sky, blocking out the stars.

  “We better find out. Now.” She clutched his shirt as sand gathered into a whirling dervish and rose up from the desert floor, spiraling toward them.

  “You’re right. Let’s go.” Lance guided her to the Harley.

  As soon as he jumped on the bike, so did she. Bring it on, witch.

  Chapter Four

  Insanity. Lance should never have brought Gwyn out here. Now Morgan would kill them both. He gunned the Harley and they sped off. Too late, he realized he should have aimed for Vegas instead of deeper into the desert, where Morganna could use all her tricks without fear of spectators.

  Spits of fire rained down all around them. Gwyn shrieked and huddled against him.

  Curse you, Morgan! He leaned forward and pushed the bike to eighty. Eighty-five. Ninety. Its frame trembled.

  The sparks grew into fireballs hitting the sand like lightning. Gwyn squealed and brushed her skirt. A large ember landed on his leg. With a cry, he swatted it away.

  Outrunning her wouldn’t work. But what?

  The dervish spun at crazy angles heading for the road. Grit flew in his eyes. “Damnation!” He blinked hard to clear it.

  Ahead, the dark swirl expanded while doubling in size. Inside its spinning walls appeared the image of a terrible wraith, its spiked teeth opening to swallow them.

  Terror slowing his motions, Lance veered away. The Harley spun out of control, toppling them to the ground. They rolled, and the bike spun away like a toy.

  As the awful specter approached, Lance rolled near Gwyn and drew her into his embrace. “No matter what happens, my love for you will never die.” Guinevere’s face flashed in his mind.

  She stroked his cheek. “Kiss me.”

  Much as he hated to at that moment, he glanced pointedly at the dervish. “Now?”

  “No time like the present.” Cupping his face, she leaned up to kiss him.

  The moment her lips touched his, the wind circled them in a howling frenzy. If this is how I must die, so be it. He pressed deeper into the kiss.

  The tornado raged around them, yet they remained in the center of calm, untouched. Shrieks like that of a banshee wailed, gaining in intensity, its fury undeniable. The witch’s tantrum occurred at the fringes of his awareness. All he truly knew was the blissful feel of Gwyn’s soft, full lips moving against his, the pressure building inside him as centuries of unfulfilled yearning screamed for release.

  The last shred of reasoning told him the witch waited for the exact moment to strike him dead. Otherwise, he’d strip Gwyn and make love to her now.

  No. First, he must protect her. Reluctantly, he eased away.

  Her lips smiled against his. “See? It worked.”

  “What worked?”

  She peppered his cheek with sweet kisses. “Our positive energies blocked her dark spells.”
r />   Oh, the feel of her beneath his hands, pressing against his chest, drove him to madness. He moaned, “Yes,” then realized what she’d said. His eyes flew wide. “What did you say?”

  Her lips smiled against his. “Our combined force of positivity must render Morgan le Fay powerless over us.” She nipped his ear then trailed her mouth down his neck.

  His groin tightened, but so did his nerves. The wraith circled them, shrieking her fury, ugly face aimed at them.

  If only he had time alone with Gwyn. Morgan hadn’t lost her power. She merely toyed with them, waiting for the right moment to strike. “Gwyn. I have to face her. Alone.” Even then, he had no idea if he could keep Gwyn safe. The weight of his words hung in the air.

  Like green crystals reflecting firelight, her eyes blazed in the dim night. “No. I won’t let her take you.” She pushed him away, and in one swift motion rose and ran into the desert.

  The cyclone matched her movements, effectively trapping her within its spinning web.

  Gwyn’s fists stiffened by her sides. “Morgan! You can’t win.”

  Another shriek rent the night. Of laughter. The hideous wraith settled into the shimmering image of the witch. “Really? Because you said so?” Appearing within the tornado, Morgan’s head tipped back in howls of laughter.

  “Gwyn, no!” Lance scrambled to rise.

  Morganna scowled and held out her hand, fingers like claws. A shimmering ball hurled through the darkness and struck him in the chest, knocked him to the sand and pinned him there.

  His limbs like tree branches, Lance watched in horror as the sorceress turned back to Gwyn with an evil smile. “You were saying?”

  With a look of confusion, Gwyn shrank back for a moment then stiffened as she faced the witch. Her hands balled against her waist. “Pay attention this time, hag. Leave him alone.”

  At the word hag, Morganna’s pleasant demeanor disappeared. Teeth bared behind twisted lips, her image solidified as she touched down to the ground. A black satin gown clung to her curves, a sheer black robe fanning out behind her as she glided closer to Gwyn.

  “Hm, you’re right. I believe my old bones need a shot of youth.” Morganna’s eyes hurled daggers, but her tone dripped with sweetness. “Yours.” As the witch’s mouth opened, an eerie rush sounded.