A Knight in Central Park (29 page)

“Handled properly,” he said, finding the pain from his injury quickly replaced by something much more promising, “you’ll find that my weaponry is hardly perilous.”

Alexandra laughed, then reached out a hand, this time purposefully seeking him out. She would never have thought she would find a man’s body so wonderfully fascinating. God’s creation was indeed extraordinary, she thought, as she ran her fingers down his rigid shaft, surprised by its unyielding hardness. “Mayhap to you it is not dangerous because you are familiar with its behavior,” she said.

He stifled a moan. “It’s not an animal, Alexandra. It won’t sit or roll over.”

“Then why,” she asked playfully as her fingers explored, “does it stand ever at attention, awaiting my orders like a lovesick pup?”

He released a long, shuddering sigh. “Because he likes you,” he said as she continued her exploration, sliding her fingers tightly around its thickness until he let out a growl and gathered her into his arms, carrying her only a few steps back to the bed.

“You are injured, and I do not wish to hurt you further,” she said when he placed her on the feather mattress.

“Trust me when I tell you that all pain left me the moment I found you watching over me.”

In the dimness of the room, Alexandra saw him as a silhouette, a dark shadow keenly watching her as he undressed himself and then her until they were equally bare. His hand fell upon her knee, climbing higher as he said, “It’s my turn to explore.”

Her fingers clutched the furs beneath her so as not to give away the urgency she felt.

“No resistance?” he asked. “No opposing defenses?”

“Never,” she said, feeling breathless as his palm glided over her thigh, teasing her and making her yearn for more. She raised her hips the slightest bit, hinting for just that.

Waves of excitement rippled through her body as he continued his exploration. She leaned her head back, inhaling deeply as his touch filled her with exhilaration. Never in this lifetime would she have dreamt that a man touching her so intimately could feel so pleasant, so freeing. She clutched the mattress as his hands continued their lovely assault. ’Twas difficult to breathe as her pleasure mounted. She was ready, and she wanted him inside of her. “Please,” she cried. “The beast...where is the beast?”

She saw the gleam of his pearly white teeth as he smiled down upon her, teasing her further when he asked, “What is it you want, Alexandra?”

“Do not tease. ’Tis cruel to do so. Lay claim to that which is presently yours, Sir Joe. I demand that you do so.”

He laughed, then moved himself over her, causing her to gasp in the darkness when he lowered his mouth to her warm flesh.

She shuddered. “Oh, you do not play fair,” she said between heavy breaths as he lifted his head and then moved upward, bringing himself full upon her. The mounting anticipation was quickly replaced with blissful ecstasy as she climaxed instantaneously, unable to contain a string of shuddering moans. Her sweet release lingered on as he covered her neck and collar bone with kisses.

She raked her fingers through his hair, urging his mouth impossibly closer, tight against her breast. She climaxed yet again, breathless, satisfied, and he pulled out before he exploded himself, letting his seed fall to the linen sheet.

Alexandra cuddled closer to his chest after he laid his head back on the mounds of pillows, trying hard not to be bothered by the fact that he refused to spill his seed within her. His pulling out only confirmed his eventual departure. She refused to think of it now, could not bear to imagine him living centuries out of reach.

A light whistling sound came through the wind-holes carved in the limestone walls as she looked at Sir Joe. “If you could leave this very moment, would you?”

“Alexandra,” is all he said as his hand lingered on her side. But no other words were forthcoming, which was indeed an answer in itself.

He would leave her.

After all they had shared, he would leave her.

“Do you truly not love me?” she asked.

Silence followed by an answer worse than silence. “I don’t know,” he said. “I honestly don’t know.”

“But yester morn, during the play, I thought...I thought perhaps you might have been speaking from the heart.”

He propped himself in a position that would allow him to look into her eyes, wincing from the pain in his arm. “I swear, Alexandra. I don’t mean to hurt you. I’m not sure I even know what love is. And even if I did, I don’t think I could ever love you the way you want to be loved...the way you deserve to be loved.”

“I love you,” she said, putting a finger to his lips before he could tell her otherwise. “You cannot take that away from me. I do not say the words to cause you guilt. I only say them because my heart tells me I must. I cannot bear to let you leave without fully telling you how I feel.”

“Alexandra—”

“Nay, let me finish, ’Tis all I ask.”

His heavy sigh stirred her hair.

“I love you not because of what we have shared in bed, or because you possess a handsome face, although both certainly add to your appeal.”

He pulled in a long breath, his hand resting on her thigh.

“I love you for keeping your promise, risking your very life in doing so. You are much braver than you let on. Fearless is what you have proven yourself to be, despite your kindliness toward my siblings and your obsession with cleanliness.”

He raised a brow.

“I do not lie.”

“No,” he said, “this time you do not lie.”

She propped herself on an elbow. “This time?”

He nodded. “You do trip over your tongue when you lie, you know. Your eyes grow round when you’re in the middle of telling one, almost as if you’ve already been found guilty.”

“You act as if I have been lying through my teeth since we met.”

“No,” he disagreed, his voice soft and reassuring. “Only twice...maybe three times. For instance, just before you let me walk off with that fake rock. And then again when you and your grandfather pretended to have a plan. And then...”

“I have heard enough,” she blurted, nestling once again into the crook of his good arm. “But verily I do not lie when I tell you that I did not plan for things to happen as they did. I never believed Grandfather’s tales until his stones brought me to you. But now that you are here,” she said, “everything feels as it should be, as if destiny truly does know best.”

“People make their own destiny.”

A rooster crowed in the distant hills.

“Whatever happens,” Alexandra said, choosing to ignore his statement, “say that you will savor the time we have left. Promise me that.”

His fingers brushed against her face as if he were hoping to forever remember the angles of her cheeks and the shape of her lips.

“I will cherish every moment,” he said at last, “I swear.”

S
pring was well over, but Alexandra felt as fresh as the dawning of a new day as she watched Sir Joe kneel before the king. Alexandra could not recall ever being more proud than she was at this moment. Her hero from Central Park was being dubbed a true knight by the King of England himself.

“A defender of the weak and unsuspecting. Merciful, bold and courageous you have proven yourself to be,” the herald said before the king’s assemblage of a few select lords and ladies.

Alexandra’s sister, Mary, and Sir Richard, the Lady and Lord of Radmore’s Keep stood nearby. How very strange, Alexandra thought, to be within Sir Richard’s fortress, seeing her sister at his side, his gaze falling lovingly upon his new wife. It would take some getting used to this new brother-in-law of hers...but if her sister was truly happy, then what more could she ask for?

“Sir Joe, are you prepared to accept the accolade of knighthood this day?” King Henry asked from his velvet cushioned high-back chair.

“I am.”

“Well then I give you these spurs.”

A young squire knelt before Sir Joe and fastened spurs to his leather boots.

“These spurs,” the herald said next, “represent the right of a true knight to ride unhindered throughout the land, protecting the weak, defending the defenseless, and helping the needy. And adorning this belt,” the herald went on as the squire fastened the belt about Sir Joe’s waist, “are blue stones representing the Virgin Mary, reminding every Knight to be ever faithful in his duties, to be pure of heart, and to be respectful in his actions and his deeds.”

“Choose death before dishonor,” the squire said before stepping back and making room for King Henry to come forth.

“Never draw this in anger,” the king said as he placed a mighty broadsword in Sir Joe’s hands. “This sword represents the Knight’s right to dispense justice. The double edge of the blade ever reminds you, brave Knight, to temper justice with mercy. As the steel of the Sword must be tempered in fire and water, so must the soul of the Knight be tempered by adversity and compassion.”

As the herald asked Sir Joe to swear his oath of fealty and service, Alexandra held tightly to Sir Joe’s leather satchel; inside of which was the last stone. By entrusting it with her, he had in a sense, entrusted her also with his own destiny.

Sir Joe spoke as if he was not sure of his love for her.

But she knew otherwise.

She did not need to hear the words to know that he loved her. She saw the love he held for her every day in the way he looked at her, in the way he worried over her siblings, and in the way he so plainly trusted her without fault.

Verily she wanted naught more than to throw the stone into the black hole within the garderobe. He was no wandering troubadour, no simple man. He was her knight. And it dawned on her suddenly that mayhap he knew her better than she knew herself, for suddenly she felt sure he had given her his satchel, knowing she would want naught more than to throw it into the moat.

And how very tempting the notion was.

Carefully tugging on the ties, she pried the bag loose and reached within until she felt the stone’s rough edges upon her fingertips. Odd, she thought, for the stones she had carried had been as smooth and as cold as marble.

Her mouth felt suddenly dry as she realized this was not the rock Sir Joe thought it to be. Grandfather!

Hastily, she pulled the rock out into the light. She did not have to see the dull white veins running through the stone to know that it was not the true stone. She gaped in stunned silence at Sir Joe as he knelt before the King of England.

She could not fault Grandfather, for she too, wanted naught more than to have Sir Joe stay with her forever. But unless ’twas his own choice, she could not trick him again. They had both made promises to one another.

Sir Joe had kept his promise. She could do no less.

She would not fret over it now, she thought as she watched with great pride as King Henry took the heavy sword from Sir Joe’s hands and tapped its blade to Sir Joe’s good shoulder.

“I hereby dub you Knight,” the king said. “The Black Knight of Levonshire.”

Afterward, the king rambled on, telling all to enjoy the festivities planned by their gracious hosts, Sir Richard and his lovely wife, Lady Mary.

After congratulations were given, Alexandra caught sight of Sir Joe coming her way. She wished to avoid him for as long as it took to figure out how to tell him he had not the true stone. But the time was to be now. She could only pray he would take his recent oaths seriously. Surely he would not do anything rash in full view of His Majesty? She nibbled at her lip and turned toward the long tables of food, pretending not to see him.

He took hold of her arm and then touched her chin, bringing it upward so she had no choice but to look at him. “Have you been crying?”

“Nay, of course not,” she said. “I-I do believe Sir Richard’s cook is overly fond of onions.”

“Alexandra...”

“Am I stuttering?”

He nodded.

“Is it the ceremony that has you tearful, or is it the fact that I refused to wear those tights you’re so fond of?”

She smiled, all the while wishing she did not have to look at him each time as if it were to be her last. “I will miss you when you are gone,” she blurted.

“We’re not going to talk about my leaving, remember? We’re going to eat and drink and be merry and then we’ll dance the night away.” He tilted her chin upward once again. “Alexandra, what’s wrong? You’re acting strange. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“How is it that you read me so well?”

“You’re an open book Alexandra Dunn. When you look deep into my eyes and lean close, I know you want to be kissed.”

She looked to her feet.

“And when you cross your arms and tap your feet, you are angry with me,” he said. “And when you avoid me and can hardly glance my way, I know you’re hiding something. So tell me. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

“’Tis about the stone,” she divulged, handing his satchel to him.

“It’s here,” he assured her. “I can feel it.”

She shook her head. “Nay, I am afraid Grandfather has played a trick on you.”

His muscles tensed. He plucked the stone from its hiding place and held it to the light. His face paled. “Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Your grandfather had been reluctant to hand it over...why would he have an ordinary rock stuffed away in his mattress...unless,” he said, his expression turning grim, “unless he knew I might ask for it. He’s a smart man, that grandfather of yours...sneaky, but very clever all the same.”

Clearly, Sir Joe was doing his best to rein in his frustrations, Alexandra realized. From the satchel he retrieved a folded parchment and a writing utensil. He counted the lines and then added two more. “Twenty nights have passed,” he said finally. “That leaves me with nine days to get back to your village.” He took a firm hold of her shoulders. “Can we get back in that amount of time?”

She nodded. “If we make haste.”

Although Mary was disappointed by their need for a hasty departure, she and Sir Richard were more than helpful in seeing them off. Provisions were many and Sir Joe and Alexandra were given a mule to carry the load. With no time to waste, they said their good-byes, two sisters promising to set eyes on one another soon. Garrett, Sebastiano, and Joe were already mounted. They waited patiently for the women to hug and cry and hug again.