The Heat of the Knight (7 page)

His gaze lowered, and he forced her legs wider so that one ankle was hooked over the top of a chair. Ecstasy shot through her as he completely opened her to his unrelenting gaze and watched as his finger penetrated her. She looked down too, at the pink petals of her pussy, slick with the cream he'd coaxed from her.

As he brought the cream to his lips to taste, tendrils of heat unfurled in her lower belly. Taking a step back, he shoved his breeches off his hips. He made an attempt to hold her gaze with his own, as though he knew his nakedness would daunt her. But brazenly she looked down at his intimidating cock and spread herself even wider in wanton invitation.

“Now that is charmingly obedient. Don't you worry you'll spoil me?” he asked, his voice rough. Beckett settled his big body between her thighs. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she tugged him forward, touching his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.

With a groan, his big hands grabbed the cheeks of her buttocks, the fingers digging into the crevice as he pushed himself forward. He guided the head of his cock into her. She gasped, and he peered at her through sable lashes.

“Mayhap giants and pixies weren't meant to mate.” She polished off her mischievous comment with an impudent smile.

One forceful thrust conquered her, effectively wiping the smile from her face. The masculine potency of the man stole her breath. Her fingers gripped the tablecloth runner as her body adjusted to the length and hardness of him. Her eyes glossed with tears. It was the most incredible feeling to hold him so deep inside her.

“Lay back,” he instructed.

The moment she complied, he stroked her slit with his callused thumb sending a frisson of excitement through her. She tried to squeeze his shaft, but her pussy, still stunned by the size of him, would not perform. He stroked more intimately between her parted labia, and her pussy finally responded, clenching his cock possessively.

“Though you may hate me…” He found her nub and teased and tugged it until she cried out, “—your body seems to desire me.”

Desire him? Her body had fallen instantly, worshipfully, in love with his. She raised herself onto her forearms, thrusting her breasts out. Her erect nipples were begging for his attention.

Sensing her eagerness, he reached out and swirled one of his thumbs over her nipple as his other thumb made an identical motion over her tingling nub.

Her gaze focused on where they were joined. Feeling feverish, she sucked in her bottom lip at the arousing sight. “Fuck me.”

“Most obliging,” he drawled. He dragged himself out and the honeyed-friction was enough to make her eyes roll back. Taking a firm grip on her hips, he shoved his sleek cock to the hilt and then withdrew again. With wicked abandon, she arched her pelvis higher so that he rammed into her with such intensity her trembling legs could no longer grip him. Her knees parted and her legs flopped open.

Gripping her thighs, he tugged her so that her buttocks slid to the very edge of the table, impaling her further. Her toes now grazed the floor. Her thighs were still not splayed wide enough for him, and he forced them shamelessly apart. With her buttocks teetering on the edge, combined with the weight of her dangling legs, she was presented to him at such an angle that his cock found a deliriously sweet spot with each and every thrust. Through passion-clouded eyes, she stared up at him as he claimed her.

“Beckett,” she moaned.

With a groan, he withdrew suddenly and grabbed her from the table, crushing her against his chest as he roared his release. Once he'd set her back down, he braced his hands on the table effectively trapping her. His lips tipped sulkily.

No doubt she'd done everything wrong. Well she'd held up her end of the bargain, and that would have to suffice.

“You did not find satisfaction,” he said.

“But I did.”

He looked unconvinced.

“Truly,” she insisted.

Beckett, refusing to budge, remained a barrier to her clothing. Wishing to cover herself, she whipped off the tablecloth, spilling a bowl of nuts at the far end of the table.

Walnuts bounced crazily across the room. “Oops,” she said with an apologetic smile and swathed herself in the linen.

“Now you are testing my patience.”

“I'll pick them up.”

“I don't give a damn about the nuts.” He tugged an end of the linen, unwrapping her.

“Willful chit. You'll sleep without a stitch on.”

“Staying the night was never mentioned. I've earned my freedom.”

He recoiled as though she'd struck him. “So that is why you kissed me today rather than crown me the cuckold.”

“You know that I am not that cunning.” Clearly, she'd injured his feelings, and it bothered her. Squeezing past him, she padded barefoot across the room. She could feel moisture where her thighs rubbed together.

She climbed dutifully into bed, aware that she was transferring evidence of her lost virginity onto his bedclothes. A stain that would have been a source of pride for a new wife, she thought wistfully.

Signaling frustration, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Tiana, must you fight me on everything?”

“No, not on everything. I actually don't mind not picking up the nuts,” she said with a smile.

* * * *

Even after the extreme intimacy they'd shared, somehow sleeping tucked against him would be too wrenching. Her heart already ached with the knowledge that she would be forever recalling this night. She lifted his heavy restraining arm and slipped soundlessly from the bed. Draping herself in one of the fur coverlets, she tiptoed around and stealthily wheeled out the servant's truckle drawer from under the bed and crawled into it. Having barely shut her eyes, she felt herself being lifted high in the air and spilled out onto the bed. She had to laugh at her predicament. But he wasn't smiling.

Standing with his back to the fire, his muscles gleamed golden. “Sass me all you want outside of these bed curtains, but here, you obey.”

She remembered back to that infamous night when he'd serviced a bed full of women. “I did not witness this high-handed attitude when I watched you with your harem. Or were they already trained?”

He quirked one dark eyebrow. He knew as well as she that it was a ridiculous question. Those women had been so eager and slavish that there was no need for him to demand.

In a rather nonchalant manner, though his muscles bulged threateningly, he snapped the trundle bed into pieces with his bare hands, tossing the pieces at intervals into the fire.

His dark eyes were unfathomable. Where did her dearest friend go? What had turned him into this formidable stranger?

“A silly thing to ruin that merely to have me next to you for one night.” She turned away from him and shook her naked bottom purposefully in his direction before crawling under the furs. “Now, if you don't mind, it has been a very long day, and I must be up early tomorrow.” Tucking the covers under her chin, she shut her eyes.

“Seems I failed to mention that this is a permanent arrangement.”

Her eyes flew open. “Oh no, you promised that I could go back to my cottage.”

“You can, of course, but there isn't anything left of it.” He hurled the last piece of the wood frame into the fire. “There is no more of it than there is of the trundle bed. Stubborn as you are, I knew you would insist on returning, and I'm not going to allow you to starve to death. This is your home now.”

“But I passed by it this morning. I looked in the window.”

He shrugged. “Things change.”

“You've decided I'm to be your whore without even asking me?”

He pushed her back onto the mattress. Stripping her of the cover, his hands gripped her knees and pressed them up and out. He settled himself between her parted legs. His silken skin was heated from the fire. Her legs trembled, weakened from their first coupling. “Again? More than once in an evening?”

“Colin doesn't have much stamina?”

“You are a bull-headed man.” She reached over and peeled back the coverlet to show him the pale pink stain that proved him the first.

“All those times you and Colin met?”

“'Twas only as friends. Our little group had diminished from three to two.”

“By God, a virgin?” He studied her intensely. “That explains why you were clinging to me like a panicked kitten.”

Christiana noticed for the first time the crescent marks where her nails had bit into the skin of his arm.

“But you allowed me such liberties.” The man seemed truly astonished by her revelation.

She could only shrug. Her body had reacted to his as if by instinct. Perhaps a virgin was supposed to accept with grim passivity her deflowering.

An arrogant, thoroughly male expression tipped his lips. “I'd ask your forgiveness…”

“But 'twould be a lie. You're pleased to have been the first,” she finished for him.

“Aye, too true.” He toyed with her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Fascinated, she watched as he pulled the rosy erect nub gently between his teeth. And then his mouth covered the entire aureole and suckled it. Her whole body tingled at the erotic tug on her nipple. She gathered his glossy, ink-colored hair into a tail at his nape exposing the etching on his neck. Everything about him fascinated her.

With her other hand, she traced the scar, the wings that enfolded both sword and shield. It was a representation of the Angel of the Apocalypse. The scales of justice were drawn on the shield. The mark was all that remained of the soldier who had once risked his earldom to go on crusade. She wondered if she judged him too harshly. Perhaps, after years devoted to battle, he deserved to indulge himself with pleasure.

He lifted his head, a wicked smile playing on his face as he inched inside of her, thick and hard. With each exquisite increment, she dug her fingers into the sleek muscles of his back.

“I'm asking,” he said with another persuasive thrust into her tight sheath. “Will you stay with me?” He drove deeper. Her pussy clenched around him.

“I won't have any of your bastards.” Startlingly penetrating strokes made her stammer her demand.

“You've made that clear. I am determined to tame that mouth of yours.” He nibbled her bottom lip and then plunged his tongue deep into her mouth.

He reached between their bodies, his thumb finding the most sensitive part of her.

Rubbing the pad of his thumb over her nub, he teased it until a scintillating sensation thrilled her whole body. He was certainly taming her body. She felt sinuous and feline as she arched toward him, taking all of him. Lifting his head, he peered down at her.

Beneath his heavy lashes, his eyes were slivers of gleaming onyx.

“Who are you?” she whispered. The heaviness and heat of his body, the size of his cock inside her, the tantalizing feel of his thumb stroking her, and his delicious masculine scent enveloped her senses. The man was completely intoxicating.

“Come with me, Tiana,” he said, his breath warm against her mouth. Her body seemed instinctively to know what he meant, and she followed. Heavenly spasms overtook her pussy. Shuddering in her arms, he spent himself outside her body.

“So
that
is satisfaction,” she said in awe. Her body thrummed with pleasure.

His chest heaving, he rolled onto his back.

She traced the design on his neck; the mark spoke of violence. “Is this a souvenir from King Peter's crusade?”

“Aye.”

“When you left to join the campaign, I was certain it was the last I'd see of you.” She lifted his heavy arm and found the other inked scar. A Jerusalem cross he'd had carved on the underside of his forearm; a crusader's mark to ensure a Christian burial.

“Hopefully, you weren't too disappointed I'd survived.” He scooped her up and settled her atop his hot body.

Blinking hard, she prevented tears from chasing down her cheeks and onto his chest.

She trailed her finger over his Adam's apple to the hollow at the base of his throat. She concentrated on slowing her breathing until she was calm enough to speak. “I want a garden.” The words shot out louder than she expected.

He propped his arm behind his head and peered down at her. “Mercenary little thing, aren't you? I've never had to pay for these favors before.”

With a cry, she tried to shove herself off his body, but he'd anticipated her outrage and clamped his hand on her bottom, holding her fast. “Not that you aren't worth it.” His deep voice resonated through her.

“'Twasn't meant as payment. I wanted something to occupy my time. Or am I to lounge naked in your bed all day?”

“I suppose that was too much to hope for,” he replied with a roguish smile.

“You are a very wicked man, Beckett de Saxby.”

“So you keep telling me.” His big hand kneaded her bottom. “A garden you shall have, but within the castle walls. I don't want you going beyond the moat. 'Tis a dangerous time.”

“And I want my hives moved. You haven't destroyed those, have you?”

“I haven't.” He was twisting tufts of her hair forming the ends into points. “But I told Thomas, the boy you entrusted with them, that they were his to keep. Reckoned it would keep him from poaching from my rivers.”

“I'm glad for Thomas.” She swirled her fingers over his chest. Beneath all that hard muscle, there actually beat a heart.

“Out! Out! You clumsy dog.” Christiana waved her arms at the lanky, gray hound.

“You'll crush all the new seedlings.” Chastened, Christiana's new, long-nosed companion lowered his head and walked forlornly out of the garden. He pushed his head up against her hand for a pat. “You surely are starved for attention, Sir Rascal. I know exactly how you feel.” His tail wagged at the knightly name she'd dubbed him. Reaching down, she gave his neck a hearty rub. “Now stay out of my garden.” With a tiny whimper, the dog sat obediently by her feet.

Christiana surveyed the freshly sprouted rows of herbs and flowers. The dainty plants were thriving in the warm afternoon sun. By midsummer, people would be begging her for sprigs of lemon balm for fevers and marjoram for poultices. Christiana knelt in the dirt to wrench free some of the scraggly weeds that had pushed through the freshly plowed earth. The rosemary and mint were already releasing whispery hints of fragrance. More than half of the garden had been planted with lavender, for no other reason than it was her favorite. And this was her garden after all…his gift to her.