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Authors: Suzanne Barclay

The Knights of Christmas (26 page)

BOOK: The Knights of Christmas
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Benedick lifted his brows in question, bewildered, once more, by her speech.
She looked at him unswervingly. “Even though I still desire it,” she admitted with a smile, “I am rescinding my Christmas wish.”
Benedick blinked. Her
Christmas. wish?
Was she serious? His gaze stole over her somber features and guileless eyes, and he knew the answer. To have such faith. Once he would have mocked it, but now Benedick found it as pure and bright as a star that gave light to a darkened world. For wasn't that what faith was all about, believing in the unbelievable?
Including love.
“I know that tomorrow is Epiphany, and I will hold to our agreement, but I would have you know that you hold my heart in your keeping. 'Tis my gift to you, and you cannot return it, even if you will,” she said. Her smile wavered, and Benedick felt his own heart twist in response.
She bent her head, her voice low. “I have another gift for you, perhaps not of greater value, but one which you might treasure more.”
At her breathy whisper, Benedick's hands jerked in her gentle grasp. Heat flooded his body, pounding through him, as he considered just what this present might be.
Oh, Noel, you have no idea what I treasure,
he thought.
Although Benedick felt her fingers tremble, she lifted her face to gaze at him directly, her eyes bright and clear. And he knew. They both knew what she was offering. She would give him her body, without bargain or demand, at the urging of her heart, if he would accept it.
 
He ought to refuse her, of course. She was gently bred, and had no business crawling into his bed. He should wait until they were married, at least, Benedick told himself, but he was hard and throbbing for want of her. And he was tired of waiting. After days of watching her, desiring her, loving her, he did not have the will to refuse her.
Releasing her hands, Benedick rose. shakily from his chair. “I will retire now,” he said, his breath swift and shallow as he saw the blush rise in her cheeks. “Alard,” he called. “Since your holiday is nearly over, I free you from your duty to attend me this night. Sleep here by the warmth of the hearth, or find some other bed, if you wish.”
Alard shot him a look, fraught with significance, that Benedick ignored. Keeping a tight rein on his taut body, he turned and made his way up to the great chamber, wondering if little Noel would dare to follow.
Once there, he blessed her for turning the room into a warm, inviting, refuge worthy of her presence. The hearth burned brightly, coloring the sunny walls with a golden glow, and the expensive carpet was soft beneath his feet. Stripping swiftly, Benedick pulled the bed curtains partially open and climbed in, leaning back against the pillows as anticipation roared in his veins.
Along with misgivings.
He shouldn't let her come to him, he thought again. He should tell her to go, Benedick vowed. But when his door opened, it felt so right to have her there—as if the dreams of a lifetime were real at last—and he could not deny her or himself.
Noel said nothing, but stepped inside and bolted the portal behind her. When she moved forward, he caught his breath at the sight of her by firelight, her golden hair loose and flowing. She was wrapped in a fur cloak, and as he watched, she pushed it aside and let it drop to the floor, revealing herself to his ardent gaze.
She was naked.
Benedick choked back a groan as his body jerked in response. She stood before him proudly, her pale skin glowing, her breasts high and rose tipped, her belly flat and her slender legs delightfully curved. Then, as if she had used up all her boldness with her daring display, she hurried to the bed and slipped under the covers, pulling them clear up to her nose.
Benedick swallowed a laugh as he looked down at her visible features, shadowy in the dimness of the partially curtained bed. Her eyes were closed, and she looked as if prepared to have a tooth drawn. Apparently her heart was eager to gift him her maidenhead, but the rest of her was not so enthusiastic.
He ought to send her away and wait until they were wed, Benedick told himself again, but he had her now, in his bed, and he was not about to let her go. Slowly he lifted the edge of the blanket and pulled it downward, revealing her dainty mouth and chin, her long throat and the pale curve of her breast in the near darkness. At her tiny waist, he halted and folded back the cover. Then he lightly touched her brow with one finger. Her eyes flew open, her gaze locking with his, and whatever she saw there made her shiver.
“Be not afraid, Noel,” Benedick whispered, though the words came out more roughly than he would have liked.
“I am not, really. 'Tis just that I have heard it called a messy, painful business and I—”
“Nay,” he said, stopping her lips with a finger. Breathing in her fragrance, mixed with greenery and Christmas scents, he smiled. “The magic is all around us.”
Benedick saw her tension ease away as her mouth curved softly, and he traced it with his finger, shuddering when her tongue reached out to touch him. Holding himself in check, he trailed his finger over her cheek, along her neck, against her racing pulse, then over one silky shoulder and lower. His eyes followed the path, up her breast, rising with her rapid breaths, and slowly, gently, to the rose-hued peak.
“Benedick.” Her breathless whisper undid him, and he moved over her, reveling in the feel of her hardened nipples against his chest. Burying one hand in her silken tresses, he took her mouth in lush, rich kisses, and she met him with delighted gasps and delicious strokes of her tongue. He paused for breath, savoring the touch of their bodies, the golden length of her hair, the beauty of her face, soft with desire, and the look in the eyes that met his own.
And then he began again, with warm, wet, wondrous kisses of awakening and discovery. He caressed her hair, and put his lips to her throat, sending his tongue out to taste her skin, smooth and flawless. He tempered his strength, putting his weight on his elbows as he laved her breast and her nipple, careful not to draw too hard as she responded with innocent abandon.
Finally, aching for her, Benedick nudged her knees apart and pressed his painful hardness against the center of her. The moist welcome nearly unmanned him, and he sucked in a harsh breath of restraint. Kissing her again, he took himself in hand and rubbed against her, bathing himself in her dewy heat until he could not bear it a moment longer. Breaking the kiss, Benedick gasped against her throat and positioned himself. He was sweating, rigid with the knowledge that this was Noel, and he must hurt her.
“I love you, Benedick,” she whispered, and he lifted his head. In the shadows, he met her gaze, clear, unflinching, and with a low groan, he buried himself inside her in one long, slow thrust. So consumed by sensation that he could do nothing but savor it, Benedick closed his eyes, overwhelmed by it all. Pleasure. Heat. Noel.
He was home at last.
Her hips nudged his, and Benedick blinked as awareness returned. Although his head felt thick and groggy, he tried to sharpen his wits when he looked down at her. Virgin no longer, she did not rebuke him for his roughness, but wore a dreamy smile that made her appear as dazed as he felt.
“'Tis wondrous,” she said, arching tentatively against him.
“Wondrous,” he echoed, grinning at her, and then he moved, slow, sweeping thrusts that made her sigh with delight. He lifted himself up, pushing forward, deep and smooth, again and again and again until she cried out, her slender fingers clutching his arms. Her release fed his own, and it swept over him in waves, urgent and fierce and wrenching.
At last, he collapsed upon her, barely summoning the strength to roll onto his sweat-slickened back. Drawing her with him and smoothing her long locks away from her face, Benedick felt totally sated, utterly content. He had lived the dream, and the reality was better beyond imagining. Holding her close, inhaling her perfume and feeling the gentle beat of her heart, he felt overcome with some strange emotion.
Happiness.
Startled by the discovery, he laughed aloud. “There must be magic,” he said, shaking his head in wonder as Noel smiled in agreement. “I do not deserve it,” he admitted. Although unable to stop his answering grin, he knew no reason why he, of all men, had found such joy.
“Yes, you do,” she answered softly.
“I do not deserve you,” he asserted, even as his grip on her tightened. It was too late now, for he would never let her go, whether she willed it or no.
“Of course, you do,” she said in a voice wise beyond her years. And Benedick was struck by her prescience.
“You knew it all along, didn't you?” he asked in amazement.
“What?”
“That I would marry you.” He heard her swift intake of breath and felt her searching gaze.
“Will you?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
Noel, as usual, surprised him. She neither gloated nor rejoiced, but eyed him intently. “Why?”
“Because I cannot live without you,” Benedick answered, truthfully. “I love you, Noel.”
Her slow smile warmed him clear down to his bones, and he knew a sudden, resurging need to possess her, to claim her as his own, now and forever. Gripping his arms, she lifted herself up to kiss him, her hair flowing around them, and Benedick felt himself stiffen inside her.
“You got your Christmas wish, after all,” he said as he rolled her beneath him.
And so did I, though I knew it not.
“Oh, no,” Noel said, breathless. “My wish was that you marry me. You must have fallen in love with me all on your own.”
Benedick grinned at her absurd reasoning. “No more Christmas wishes, then?” he whispered. Watching her face, he began to move, slowly and surely, and reveled in her response.
“For now,” she said with a gasp. “But next year...”
Epilogue
 
 
B
enedick breathed in the familiar scents of the season, greenery and berries and spices, and felt his heart lighten. There was something about Christmas that never failed to cheer him. As Noel often said, it was a time when men were more charitable toward their brothers, but to Benedick, the holiday meant so much more. The years lifted away, as if he were renewed like the infernal Yule log, which seemed to grow bigger every year.
Grinning at the thought, Benedick gazed lovingly at the scene around him, his hall bedecked for the celebration, his people busily preparing for this, the second day of the twelve days, and his children, all of them healthy and fine. Benedick drew in a deep breath at the sight of his sons and daughters gathered around the high table with sweets and gifts for his wife, whose birthday they were celebrating on this Christmas evening.
And then suddenly, his vision dimmed and he felt an eerie dizziness, as if he had seen in all before: Petronella holding the baby, Godard with his back to him, and Noel seated in the shadows. His heart pounded a frantic pace he had not known since his days on the battlefields, but a vague memory to him now, and he pushed aside some of the revelers in his haste to reach his chair, for fear that someone had taken his place.
 
It was empty.
Foolishness, Benedick thought as he ran a hand through his hair and grinned. Or was it? Slowly the dream came back to him, a vision from long ago in which he stood outside this family circle looking in, wishing that he could be here and hold this future in his hands.
And now he did.
He owed it all to Noel's Christmas wish, Benedick thought, and then shook his head at such a nonsensical notion. Obviously some of Noel's fancies had rubbed off on him over the years, he decided as he scooped up Gabby, who was lifting her arms to him impatiently. It was only natural, he told himself, for did he not indulge his wife inordinately?
“Kiss, Papa,” Gabby demanded, and he complied, giving her a loud smack on the cheek that sent her into a fit of giggles. Then again, his wife also indulged him aplenty, he thought with a grin. Had she not given him all this? And made this keep a home, filling it with life and laughter and love.
“Make a wish,” Benedick urged, his voice roughened by emotion, and he saw Noel's swift glance, her tender smile and the still-mischievous sparkle in her eye.
“Why?” Gabby piped up.
“You aren't going to wish for another baby, are you?” Petronella asked suspiciously.
Benedick eyed his wife's slender body. If she knew a child was on the way, she often requested a fat, healthy infant. But her belly was as flat as a girl's, so he didn't think a baby was in the offing, though not for lack of bedding. His innocent Noel had developed into a lusty wench, as eager for a romp as he, and just as content to lie afterward in his arms, that certain warmth surrounding them.
“Why?” Gabby said.
“No baby this year,” Noel said. “This Christmas, I shall wish for something entirely different.” Then she paused, drawing the moment out until she had everyone's attention. “I would ask for a happy, healthy new year for us all.”
 
“Aw, that's not different,” Godard complained.
“But it's what I want,” Noel said, reaching out to hug the twins, who stood on either side of her.
“Happy Birthday, Mama,” they all shouted then, accepting her hugs and kisses with various degrees of enthusiasm, depending up their ages. Godard, Benedick noted, was too much a man, but someday he would come to appreciate the more tender emotions, as his father had.
Over the general clamour, Gabby's voice rose high and shrill, ringing sharply in Benedick's ear. “Why wish?” she demanded. “Why wish?” They all looked to Noel, who smiled at Benedick, deferring the question to the head of the household as often was her wont.
“'Tis tradition,” he replied, with a grin.
 
 
BOOK: The Knights of Christmas
13.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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