The Knight's Reward (Border Series Book 10)

by Cecelia Mecca

Nay.

  “Aye, love. Tell me when it no longer pains you.”

  “It no longer pains me.”

  Groaning, Neill did not wait for further confirmation.

  He pulled out slowly, just to be sure.

  “That . . . feels . . . different.”

  “This is just the beginning.”

  Out, and in. Just slightly deeper this time.

  “Ahhh.”

  “By night’s end . . .” This time, he circled his hips as he moved. “You will come again, as you did beneath my fingers. And will know the pleasure of joining this way.”

  Her hands fled from his back and grasped the blanket beneath them.

  “I believe . . . I believe I know the pleasure already.”

  He moved slightly faster now, one hand moving down her stomach.

  “Nay, wife. I do not believe you do.”

  She was tight, slick, and able to take him fully. So he did not hold back, and teased with his fingers too. Small, quick circles at odds with the deep, slow thrusts that claimed her as his wife each time.

  “Neill . . .”

  Ah, yes. That was better.

  “Aye, love?”

  Straining to hold himself back, Neill knew his voice must sound pained. And though he’d imagined this very moment over, and over, and over again, he was determined she would come first.

  Now.

  He thrust hard but rubbed his thumb softly. By the look on Kathryn’s face, he could tell she was overcome. Screaming into the night, she clenched against him. Neill removed his hand and let himself go completely.

  His cries mingled with her own until he exploded, shuddering with her in one powerful moment that he’d remember for the rest of his life no matter how often they made love.

  And they would. Often.

  Collapsing and rolling her on top of him, Neill gathered her close, his hands resting on her buttocks. Her hair tickled his chest until she finally lifted her head. Pulling out, he groaned again and watched her expression as it turned from pleasure to wonder.

  “Now that,” he said, “is exactly what I was aiming for.”

  She tried to prop herself up, but Neill wouldn’t let her. He wanted to feel her breasts against his chest. Feel every bit of her body pressing on his.

  “Am I your prisoner?” she asked, turning her head to look up at him.

  “Aye.”

  “Good.”

  He smiled, pulling her even tighter against him. They lay that way, listening to the waves, to each other’s heartbeat.

  “I would stay right here forever,” she said finally.

  “I love you,” he murmured into her ear in response.

  “And I love you, almost as much as . . .”

  She lifted her head, Neill suddenly anxious about what she was going to say.

  “Almost as much as?”

  Kathryn glanced down between them, and then back up at his face.

  “Almost as much as that.” A wicked grin spread across her face.

  “Worth waiting for?”

  She nodded. “Aye. Very much so.”

  Much to his surprise, he agreed.

  Epilogue

  They arrived at the inn just as the sun set, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting out through the open shutters. A familiar smell, and one Kathryn had missed. Kenshire’s baker was as fine as any, but Magge made the inn’s bread herself. She’d always bragged of it, saying an inn without good ale or bread would close its shutters before long. And as the third-generation owner of The Wild Boar, she would know better than most.

  Kathryn and Neill had been married less than a fortnight, and he’d not wanted to leave Kenshire Castle so soon. But she had insisted on coming here to see Magge. To tell her she was safe and say goodbye properly. So they’d agreed to a visit to Brockburg with a stop at The Wild Boar on the way.

  Kathryn took a deep breath as she stepped inside, immediately wishing she hadn’t. While the smell of bread wafted out through the kitchen windows, the stench in the hall was one she’d gladly forgotten. No matter how often they changed the rushes or attempted to keep the floor free from bones and spilled ale, The Wild Boar had always smelled like any other inn.

  A not entirely pleasant scent.

  “Kathryn!”

  Although Magge sounded overjoyed to see her, true to her nature, she sidled up to Neill first. The ladies at court could learn something of flirting from the aging innkeeper.

  “Come here,” she said, reaching for her next.

  Kathryn tossed her arms around the woman who had harbored her, protected her, and squeezed tight.

  “’Tis good to see you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry we did not send word sooner.”

  Magge let her go, stepped back, and looked at her from top to bottom.

  “You look as you did before. A true and proper lady.”

  “And my wife,” Neill added.

  Magge’s eyes widened. Kathryn laughed as the innkeeper slapped first her and then Neill on the shoulder.

  “I’d said you’d not be back. I won’t deny I dared to hope.”

  “But here I am.”

  Magge made a noise. “To visit ol’ Magge, and nothin’ else.”

  That much was true.

  “The wife of a Waryn. And this Waryn.” Magge whistled. “I’ll be hearing this story after I settle that.” She nodded behind her.

  How Magge could see through her back, Kathryn was not sure. But she’d always managed to sense fights before they broke out, and sure enough, two men behind her appeared to be squaring off. Neill stepped forward, but Kathryn stopped him.

  “She’ll want to do this herself.”

  “Show of strength?”

  “Aye,” Kathryn said, navigating them through the crowded hall to the very table where she’d first seen Neill some months ago.

  She could tell he was remembering it as well.

  They sat, Neill glancing Magge’s way once more. As Kathryn had suspected, she’d prevented the fight and was already walking toward them with a pitcher.

  “Servin’ the great Neill Waryn and his wife,” she said, placing it on their table along with three mugs. “And a pleasure to do it.”

  Magge sat with them, poured their drinks, and without preamble said, “So now. Go ahead.”

  Kathryn began to tell the tale, lowering her voice at times and letting Neill stop her at others. Only as she told the story did it strike her how very much had happened since they’d last left the Boar.

  “And none of yer guests came here on their way,” Magge tsked when she heard of the wedding.

  “We gave them little notice,” she said. “Neill wished to marry rather . . . quickly.”

  He nearly spilled the ale he’d just drunk when Magge slapped him on the back for the second time that night. “A right smart lad, just like his brothers.”

  Kathryn continued, but she noticed an odd look on Neill’s face. He was no longer listening, his gazed fixed on something, or rather someone, near the entrance. She finished her story but could tell something was amiss.

  “Ye’ll be wanting some meat pies then, aye?” Magge said, standing after she’d congratulated them at least three more times.

  “If it pleases you,” Neill said.

  “I miss some of this,” she said, looking around the inn. “Perhaps I should join Magge for a time.”

  “Or perhaps not.”

  “Twould do no damage with you here to defend my honor.”

  “I’m not so sure of that,” he said with a dark look at one of the men she’d noticed watching her.

  Kathryn laughed then. “It seems, husband, we will not always agree.”

  Neill cocked his head to the side, looking at her for a long time before he answered.

  “It appears not.”

  “But I still love you.”

  “As I love you.” Neill leaned forward. “Would you like for me to show you?”

  Aye, she would like that very much. “Later. I am quite hungry.”


  She glanced around the hall. The innkeeper was nowhere to be found.

  “So now that the Day of Truce and hard-fought peace along the border have been restored, and my tournament days are in the past, whatever shall we do with our time?” he teased.

  She looked for Magge and did not see her.

  “Meat pies be damned.”

  This time it was she who grabbed her husband’s hand. “I have a thought about that.”

  “And I’m thankful for it,” Neill said, following her. “And for much, much more.”

  Love the Border Series and being on the inside? Join Blood & Brawn, a private reader group on Facebook, for even more deSowlis goodness.

  Get a free scene

  Get a bonus sexy scene to THE KNIGHT’S REWARD along with a free prequel novella and other bonus chapters by becoming a CM Insider.

  Become an Insider

  Stay in the know! Go behind the scenes with other Border Series readers in the most fun private Facebook group ever. Regular giveaways, live videos and lots of shenanigans will ensure. . .

  Join Blood & Brawn

  Sneak Peek: The Vampire’s Temptation

  A contemporary paranormal crossover to the Border Series

  Stone Haven, Pennsylvania

  “I don’t do shots.”

  Everyone began protesting at once—well, everyone other than Tom, who simply ignored her protest and ordered six Slippery Nipples from the bartender.

  “Take it, Alessandra. It’s not every day you celebrate a new job—”

  “Or abandon your colleagues.” Charlotte scrunched up her nose in mock anger. Everyone laughed, but Alessandra knew there was a bit of truth to her friend’s allegation. She was leaving them, after all. Who was she to deny her boss—ex-boss now—if he wanted to buy his teachers shots after their last day of in-service?

  “Besides, this is more of a cordial than a shot,” Charlotte said as the bartender lined the drinks up on the bar.

  The group looked at Charlotte as if she’d gone daft.

  “It’s all semantics,” Charlotte said, “but Alessandra will only drink cordials, so . . .”

  “Leave it to the English teacher,” Tom murmured. “Cordial. Shot. Call it what you will,” he said, lifting his glass. “To a successful school year, to the best teachers in the district, and to Alessandra Fiore—an excellent history teacher and soon-to-be excellent college professor.”

  “Cheers,” her friends said one by one, lifting their glasses in a toast. Accepting defeat, she did the same, then drank down the guaranteed headache. As she swapped the empty shot glass for the beer someone else had bought her, Tom clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the new gym teacher, who’d barely made it out alive this year. The poor guy had fallen prey to so many first-year pranks, it was a wonder he’d still shown up to drink with them this afternoon. Or maybe it wasn’t so much of a surprise. She wondered how he’d fare next year, then realized again she wouldn’t be around to find out.

  She looked at the familiar dark oak of the bar that had witnessed more teacher happy hours than she could count and wondered what her new colleagues would be like. There were only a handful of young professors at Stone Haven University, and none of the others would be in the history department with her. But if an inferior social life at work was the price to pay for her dream job, so be it. Plus, her friends would still be here, at Murphy’s Pub, every Friday like clockwork.

  “Everything OK?”

  She jumped a little at the sound of Toni’s voice. Her roommate worked at a shop down the street and typically closed the place down on Fridays. Alessandra hadn’t expected her for at least another hour.

  “What are you doing here so early?”

  Toni took the ever-present hair tie from her wrist and, in one swift movement, drew her hair into a perfect messy bun. Red hair stuck out in more places than it didn’t, the bright color attracting as much attention as her welcoming smile. Toni’s hair was impossible to look away from. Unbelievably, it was entirely natural too.

  “Birdie came down to close. I couldn’t miss your grand celebr—”

  Her eyes suddenly went comically wide, focused on something over Alessandra’s shoulder. Alessandra started to turn in that direction, but Toni grabbed her arm.

  “No! Don’t look.”

  Rolling her eyes, she humored her friend.

  “Holy hotness,” Toni whispered just loud enough for her to hear. “And he’s looking at us.”

  Alessandra lifted her Corona Light to her mouth, and got a mouthful of lime. She’d forgotten to shove it down the neck. Grabbing a bar napkin, she caught a glimpse of Toni’s worshipful expression. Man, the girl had it bad.

  “Is now a bad time to remind you of your boyfriend?”

  “Be cool,” Toni said.

  Alessandra had to laugh at that. “If anyone here is not being cool, it’s you. Seriously, what’s up with you? Let me get you a—”

  She’d brushed off Toni’s hand and finally managed to get a look at the man who’d turned her friend into a bumbling mess. And Alessandra could certainly see what all the fuss was about.

  He was looking at them. And not even attempting to hide it. Undeniably good-looking, his dirty blond hair and musician vibe were less intriguing than the way he was staring at Toni. That stare was intense and probing, as if he knew her, but Alessandra was certain she’d never seen him before.

  “Her usual,” Alessandra said to the bartender, forcing herself to look away from the newcomer.

  “You’re not buying me a drink,” Toni said, trying to push her aside. “This is your night.”

  Before Alessandra could take another glance at the stranger, Tom stepped away from the stretch of bar they’d taken over. As their principal, he rarely stayed out for more than an hour or so.

  “Good luck,” he said, hugging her as if this were goodbye for real. Stone Haven was as small a town as it got, however, and there was no doubt she’d run into him at least once a week. Here at Murphy’s or walking down their only Main Street. But the employer-employee bond they’d had was now over, and for that she felt a pang of sadness.

  “Thank you,” she replied. “For everything.”

  He smiled, saluted to the rest of the group, and left.

  “Another round of shots,” someone called out. “To summer . . .”

  She was so not doing another one. They gave her a pounding headache, and Alessandra had promised herself she would run in the morning. Or at some point tomorrow. She’d been putting it off for a week, and a day after indulging in bar food and too many drinks was the perfect time to get her butt in gear.

  “They’re just getting started,” Toni said with a grin, lifting her glass in the air. “To new beginnings,” she said with a not-so-sly glance at the other end of the bar.

  Alessandra followed her gaze.

  He was gone.

  Shrugging, she lifted up her bottle and clinked glasses, grateful for good friends and a summer with nothing to do but prep for her classes in the fall.

  “To new beginnings.”

  Lawrence was here.

  Taking a sip of a gin and tonic, Kenton stared out into the distance from the second-floor balcony of his new home. A train’s whistle broke the blessed silence, though “silence” wasn’t truly silent for him, and hadn’t been for some time. In still moments, he could hear shop owners in town putting out their trash and preparing to close for the evening.

  Even so, the view was relaxing—the line of trees across from him was broken by only one discernible building, the courthouse that stood guard on Main Street. The downtown area of Stone Haven was lined with brightly colored Victorian homes and townhouses. He’d considered purchasing one of the latter, only to dismiss the idea.

  Too confining.

  Now, it would seem, the decision had been a good one. If his senses were accurate, and they always were, his temporary lodgings were located just next door to his nemesis. Purchasing the mansion had attracted attention, but no matter. He w
ould be long gone as soon as the deed was done.

  He sat, making a mental note to request that his maidservant purchase cushions. Apparently the previous owner had not found wrought iron as uncomfortable as he did.

  Kenton took another sip of his drink as darkness fell. The maid he’d hired from the previous staff—the mansion had been a bed and breakfast when he purchased it—appeared around the balcony to his right. She’d not spoken yet, but Kenton could hear her breathing.

  “Send him up,” he said without turning toward her. “But from the outside entrance,” he added. “He may not go inside. Ever.”

  Whether the woman was startled by his knowledge of her presence—because he already knew a guest waited below—or because of the vehemence of his request, Kenton wasn’t sure. Nor did it matter. What did matter was the man who even now made his way up the winding outside staircase.

  As Lawrence entered the room connected to the balcony, it struck Kenton that he’d made a critical error. He should have killed the girl—woman, more precisely—before Lawrence had arrived. Now his purpose in Stone Haven would be more difficult to fulfill.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” Lawrence asked, walking around to stand just next to him. He didn’t need to ask who. The man wasn’t talking about his elderly maid.

  “I’d offer you a drink, but regrettably, you’re not staying.”

  “How long have you known about her?” Lawrence Derrickson had the sole honor of being the only person to almost make him lose his temper in over seven hundred years, and it would seem he still had the ability to get a rise out of him.

  “Longer than you, apparently.”

  He knew the barb would hit its mark, and it did.

  “Yet you haven’t killed her?”

  “Regrettably not.”

  “Why?”

  Knowing it would anger Lawrence, Kenton took a slow sip of his drink and looked down at the town below them.

  “A quaint little place. Didn’t expect as much, although I must admit, the only other time I’ve been to Pennsylvania, when—”