Up Her (Bang Lords Book 1)

by Dani Stowe

  Poor roses. It’s possible they will become stained a blood red should I have to slaughter this man out here, but I’ve always liked red roses better anyway.

  The man leads me down the steps to a set of perfectly cut rectangular stones placed in a circular array. He gestures I sit, so I do as he requests. From the corner of my eye, I feel his gaze follow my face as I lower myself to sit on the stone. His gaze shifts towards my breasts and I cover my chest with a palm, feeling naked.

  He flinches at my discomfort. “You will have to forgive me.”

  I bite my lip. You’re in the king’s service. You don’t deserve forgiveness, I silently think.

  “When I first saw you,” he continues, “I could not help but think we have met before. You look strangely familiar. By chance, do you have those same feelings?”

  I shake my head, no.

  “You do not talk much.” I shake my head again and he chuckles. “Would you prefer I remove my mask?”

  I reach forward to stop him, as I don’t want to have to take off my mask, but he’s rather quick and slips the ribbon easily over and off his head.

  A tingle runs through my chest like a cool breeze encapsulating me, causing my skin to tickle and gooseflesh to rise. I feel even more naked at the sight of him.

  He does look familiar, but I’m not going to admit it.

  “Perhaps, we should discard your mask, too,” he says, reaching for my face.

  I clutch his fingers. They are long and strong, but I grip them.

  “Ah!” he cries out in response to the tight squeeze of his knuckles pressed bone against bone and he cocks his head sideways.

  Surprised at my strength? You should be.

  I push his fingers back to him where he presses my hands flat and firm into his chest. My cheeks warm as I retract my hands and he smiles once more to reveal deep muscular trenches to the sides of his strong upward smile. I can only imagine the lean cuts of muscle he must have spread across the rest of his body.

  I admit it will be a waste to kill such a fine-looking man. I feel worse as he takes my left hand and kisses my knuckles with warm, moist lips. He attempts to pull at my right hand, but I feel the weight of the knife there, so I jerk my hand back.

  He sighs. “I am sorry. We are not married yet and, considering your family history, I am sure you are a most restrained and reserved type of lady. I heard you are the only family your father has left, which is why he has allowed you to become as old as you are without being married.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “I am not stating you are...mm...old,” he stutters. “I just mean most young ladies are already made wives by thirteen or fourteen, some even younger. A few young men are even made husbands by such an age, but my work in service to the king has left me no recourse to take a wife—until now.” He smiles again and I am forced to bite my lip for some strange reason. “I believe King Richard has finally taken pity on me, allowing me to marry. I shall reach my thirtieth year soon. I am glad he has found me a wife that is not so young.”

  I huff. I want to kill him. Kill all of them! The thought of girls being plucked so young infuriates me. To avoid such savagery is one of the few benefits of having grown up as an outlaw among orphans.

  Oh no, my face has given my thoughts away. He attempts another kiss at my left hand, which I pull back but he will not let go.

  “Do not let my commitment to King Richard cause you fear.”

  I’m not afraid! Do I look afraid?

  He strokes my left hand with his thumb. “In all my years of service to the king, I have won many battles for him, captured and killed many an enemy and saved the king’s life several times over. He is frustrated, for I have not seized the leader of the band of outlaws, but the task will at least keep me home, here, in the kingdom. I am sure you have heard of the resistance residing in the forest?”

  A chill runs down my spine—here sits my tracker with my hand in his. I attempt to pull my hand back once more.

  “Do not fret,” he continues tugging my fingers into his lap. “I will be a good husband to you. I am close to capturing the leader and the king has promised me a small fortune for all my service.”

  I don’t give a crap about fortune. I want my family back, you arse!

  He runs the pad of his opposite thumb across my cheek. His finger is warm. My cheeks flush scarlet at his touch.

  “I am sorry,” he says bashfully, “I have devoted too much of myself. Perhaps I should not have been so bold to discuss knightly things with such a fair lady. I am certain you are not interested in men’s business and bloody tales.”

  I bat my eyes. Regretfully, I admit it’s not likely I will kill the king tonight, but perhaps I can escape with information. “I am interested.”

  “Are you?” his face brightens.

  I fake a smile back. “Genuinely.”

  The man in black cocks his head again. “Lady Claire, I must admit, I am relieved. You are a breath of fresh air. I was hoping to choose a wife of my own, but the king would not have it. Sometimes, I deem he confuses me with being his brother, as we are so close in age, or even sometimes his father, as he has lacked one for most of his life. Arranging our marriage, I believe, was his way of rewarding me for pledging my loyalty to him for so many years.”

  Not to mention, you’re also his number one marksman, executioner, and assassin!

  “May I please remove your mask?” he inquires, reaching for my face, but I smack his hands. “Forgive me, Lady Claire,” he murmurs as he rubs the sting. I hope it hurts! He scratches his forehead. “My feelings have been in a quandary as of late. I was excited at the thought of taking a wife, then fearful of whom she might be, not having the choice for myself. It has vexed me for some time.” He examines me again with his sparkling green eyes. “Seeing you now, I must say I am most excited. I promise I will be a good husband. Fear not my behavior this evening. I may have appeared as unruly as the outlaws, or worse, untrustworthy. Will you pardon me for making so many untamed advances?”

  Never!

  “Sir Hale,” calls a king’s messenger from the balcony. “Our king has retired to his chambers and wishes to speak with you.”

  Sir Hale. I recognize the infamous name.

  He nods at the messenger and turns back to me. “This is something that will be commonplace. Tis likely we will live in the castle with the king once we are married. I will be at your beck and call, second only to the king, I promise.” The man is trying to sound cheerful, but it’s obvious he is distraught with the thought. “Will you meet me tomorrow? Meet me at the market after the morning bell tolls. I would love to take you on a tour of our beautiful countryside.”

  I wish to laugh. In fact, it’s taking an enormous amount of energy to contain the urge. It’s I who should be giving the tour. No one knows these lands better than my gang of outlaws and me.

  I grin, but he doesn’t stand to walk away. He is waiting for definitive confirmation. I believe my chance to assassinate the king, along with the significant time my gang and I have invested on this night, has been wasted. But another plot ruminates in the back of my mind. Perhaps I could get this man to reveal things to me, letting me in on everything he knows.

  I force a heavy nod in agreement. Sir Hale kisses my hand again, but as he gets up to peer down at me—my soul ignites!

  I don’t just recognize him, I remember him.

  My mind shatters. I watch him turn away. He’s still smiling as his right hand caresses the handle of his sword at his hip. I am filled with a rush of emotions. My heart and mind are battling one another with such ferocity, my whole body feels alight and I want to tear off this stupid dress to reveal myself.

  I will meet Sir Hale tomorrow and I will make sure I am privy to everything he knows because I know this man and this will not be the first time Sir Hale has aided me.

  Chapter 2

  Hale

  There is something familiar about her, like she is something out of a dream or, perhaps, a memory. I prefe
r it be a dream. If I did not have to march my feet to meet with King Richard, I might take a moment for myself to allow my mind to wander.

  “Lady Claire,” I say to myself as I march through the castle. Her name rolls off the tip of my tongue. I wonder what she tastes like. I know I promised to be a good husband, but tis likely she is a virgin, as she should be, yet the thought of tearing her open and making her scream with her first feel and thrust of me is already driving me towards lunacy. Her scent, like forest lilies, along with the color of her lips, as if stained by red wine, are enough to make me hard and now I’m desperate to know what she looks like.

  I should have torn that mask from her face!

  I smile to myself. Ah, who am I fooling? I’d take her with the mask on. Hell, I’d fuck her with the dress on. I doubt she will have a chance to make it out of her wedding dress before I pull at her golden hair while flipping up her gown. I will not even have to slap her arse to get her to tighten around me—she is a virgin! She’ll be screaming her first time, but it should only be the one time and I’ll be a good husband after that—maybe.

  For now, I suspect I should play the role of a gentleman and make it easy for Lady Claire to meet me at the altar. She will be my wife, after all. Perchance this is my one opportunity to know what tis like to have a family. Richard is the only family I have known, as my own was slaughtered when I was a child. Consequently, I am subordinate to Richard.

  Some days, I think I shall allow Lady Claire to not feel as though she is subordinate to me. It will be nice to have someone I might be able to speak my mind with, someone I shall confide in. Lady Claire seems attentive to my words. I pray she was genuinely interested. Tomorrow, perchance, I should be more attentive to her, if she should choose to speak more.

  I march faster as I enter the king’s chambers. His door is wide open and I am not surprised to find three nude ladies in his bed with him.

  “Sir Hale!” the king beckons to me as he scurries off the bed. A servant drapes him with a thick red velvet robe. I am thankful for the slight chill blowing through the windows, which forces him to cover up. I hate having conversations with him when his scrawny body is entirely exposed and his measly lanky cock is erect. He likes to admire it and I fear he should ever see mine. The king might remove it from me. Tis twice the size of his when standing at full attention. I have known the king to do barbaric things when he is jealous. Many a finger have been severed from hands he decided were too large, heads from men he thought were too proud, and daughters from fathers he deemed too pretty.

  “Twas the young lady with whom you disappeared?” Richard continues. “I believe you beat me to her. I was just about to call her to sit upon my lap when you commented the need to fetch something at the banquet table. I had no notion you were talking about that fine specimen of a woman.”

  “Forgive me, Sire,” I say and bow my head. “Lady Claire arrived early.”

  “Oh my!” shouts the king, cocking his head. He looks confused. “Was that the Lady Claire? I had no idea she’d grown to be so...beautiful!” He laughs at himself in the full-length mirror—admiring his curly blond hair. “Well, she did have the mask on. Were you able to take it off, Sir Hale?”

  “Yes,” I lie.

  “And what did she look like?”

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