Carolyne Cathey (22 page)

With her legs as leverage, she rotated her hips in movement
with Valiant's steps, slid up, then down, and then again.

"Ah, love.  What you do to me, mean to me, is beyond
wonderful."

His words encouraged her boldness, her inner heat.  The
friction of him inside her stoked her fire until she writhed.  She grasped his
shoulders and buried her face against his neck.  Moisture trickled down her
back and between her breasts.  Her rhythmic pulse blended with the movement of
her hips, the movement of the horse, slow . . . sensuous . . . liquid heat.

Kyle groaned.  "I burn, love.  I burn."  He
gripped her bare buttocks with his warrior's hands and crushed her to him. 
"Ah, love . . ."   He shuddered, then shuddered again. 
"Eleanor."  He made her name sound a primal prayer.  His manhood
pulsed and bathed her womb with his melted passion.

She couldn't go on, yet she couldn't cease, she ached with
such intensity.  She rode him, mindless to all but the craving that demanded
satisfaction.  More.  Aye, more.  And more again.  A feeling most wondrous
spread from her groin up her spine and demanded her surrender. 
Take all. 
Give all.

A giant convulsion rippled through her body, and then
another, until she felt surrounded, submerged, drowned in love.  Spent, she
sagged against his chest.  His heart thumped against her ear as her ragged breaths
blended with his, as her womanhood throbbed around his maleness.

Leaning down he brushed back her damp hair and feathered
kisses over her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, tender gifts of emotion from the
battle-hardened warrior. 

She felt blessed as she rocked against him, washed by the
magic of moonbeams, surrounded by his mantle, his arms, his affection.  A sigh
escaped her chest.  "I wish we could ride forever, my lord, but I must ask
you what you meant about sacrifices and consequences and that your time grows
short.  'Tis because of the threat of war?"

A war caused by her interference
.

"Ah...well."  He paused, and so did Valiant.

Wind rustled across the nearby grain field like a lover's
caress.  The grain whispered in response, soft, hushed.

She glanced up at his face framed by the diamond strewn
sky.  He tilted his head down to hers, his brows drawn together in a frown. 
Had his face paled?  'Twas difficult to tell, for the moonlight bathed his hair
and face until they seemed unreal.

"If you insist on such seriousness, love, then I must
unfasten you from my body or I'll not be able to concentrate upon our
discussion."  Then a hint of mischief flickered at the corner of his
mouth.  "'Tis a shame you can't stay attached to me at all times in this
manner, but 'twould be awkward.  In practice, I'd forget which spear to joust
and Jerrod would topple us both in the mix-up."

Eleanor laughed.  Peril cloaked them like the night, yet he
still could make her laugh.

Lord Kyle lifted her while behind the protective cover of
his mantle.  His manhood slipped from inside her body, a loss and a pleasure at
the same time.

He settled her sideways on his lap and she wrapped her arms
around him.  Then he covered her again with his cloak much like the velvet sky
embraced a star.  She snuggled against his warmth to protect herself against
the dreaded words that surely would chill her more than the night.

His massive hand slid under the heavy drape of her now-damp
hair, warm and comforting, then eased down her back in a possessive gesture. 
"You see, love, the king will be most displeased with my decision to not
plight my troth with Lady Mellisande."

The king again.  Would she finally see past the mysteries
to the truth?  "Why the king, my lord?  I remember when Lord Hanley spoke
his name as a threat.  And I remember when you said you cannot do as you will
for you are the King's man.  But what is the connection, my lord?"

"Lady Mellisande is a distant cousin to King Edward. 
Our sovereign wishes to honor me, to draw me into the bosom of his
family."

A cold stone formed in her chest where her heart should
be.  Lady Mellisande.  The king.  The chill of fear and the heat of love
battled for control.  "Might he understand why you wish not to marry her,
my lord?  Most likely, he doesn't know Lady Mellisande's true nature."

"Think you he cares?  Nay.  'Tis the alliance that
matters.  He expects me to control her nature, to bend her willfulness to my
own, as he expects me to bend my nature to his as his vassal."

"The king's man."

"Aye."

"What will he say, my lord?"

His fingers fondled the downy hairs at the nape of her neck
and made her shiver.  "I pray my tongue will smooth out his ire.  I never
gave my vow to wed his cousin, although Hanley already sent a rider to him
informing him of such." 

Her error in the garden when she congratulated Lady
Mellisande on the betrothal.  The lady’s wave of triumph.  The man’s signal. 
The sound of hooves on the bridge.
 
Her
interference.
 

Kyle stroked her hair as if in thought.

"I pray he'll not consider my refusal as treasonous. 
He cares not for treason."

"Treason?"  She straightened and jerked her gaze
to his.  "Surely not!"

He cocked a brow.  "But, he is the king.  He expects
his wishes to become fact, or wonder why.  I have persuaded him before now.  I
hope I shall again."

"But, you are his knight!  You fought by his
side!"

"I have.  And he has promised me a favor." 
Kyle's mouth curved into a smile that didn't hide the concern in his eyes. 
"Don't worry, lass.  'Twill be well."

Eleanor prayed for the king's understanding.  If Edward
knew of a possible connection between Mellisande and Brigham, then perhaps . .
. "My lord?"

"Aye."

"I must speak of Brigham."

Lord Kyle tightened his thighs beneath hers.  Valiant
lurched to an obedient walk.

He held her closer and nuzzled her hair.  "I'd rather
take you in the grain-field, Eleanor.  If not for your recent illness, I'd lay
you amongst the fragrant wheat and plant my seed in you again to see what will
grow."

He knew what to say to make her insides go all hot with
want.

"Look at the moonlight upon the grass, my sweet."

She turned her gaze across the moon-basked field. 

"See how the wind ripples the grain, love.  'Tis like
the sea.  And the waves undulate like your body when you ride me."

The image increased her distress and reminded her how
impossible her hopes, reminded her of her purpose.  "My lord, I must tell
you about Brigham before we reach the keep."

Lord Kyle tensed.  "Aye." 

The wind sighed, then stilled.

Of a sudden Eleanor sensed danger, an invisible presence as
if the dragon hovered.  She attempted a swallow, but her throat felt as dry as
raw wool.  And yet, she must warn Kyle.  "I've heard suspicions that
Brigham plans evil against you, my lord.  I've told you of his cruelty, of his
vicious rule while you were away at war, although you were loathe to believe
me.  But now I've heard of armed men, of excessive levies of money and food
that he carries to an unknown destination.  Why?  And where?"

His hands tightened on her arms.  "You know how much I
abhor interfere, yet you do so again?  Do you not yet understand the danger of
your manipulations?"  He drew in a sharp breath. "Or do you?  Perhaps
I am the one who refuses to acknowledge the truth, that you are more than you
pretend, that you are what I saw in the flames, disguised in sweet
temptation."

Desperate to feel him, to soothe his irritation, she
stroked her now-icy fingers down his temple.  "Don't be angry with me, my
lord.  I only fear for your safety.  And I don't know what you mean about
seeing me in the flames, or that I am someone other than . . . "   Her
heart leapt to her mouth and seized her tongue.  Fear slid over her flesh like
melted snow.  "You saw me in the flames?" 

You'll burn, witch.  You'll burn
.  Brigham's threat, an actuality. 

Kyle had seen her death.

The wind gusted an angry moan.  Or did the dragon stir? 
Leaves hurried past as if in fearful flight, then all grew silent again. 

She shuddered.  Dread as cold as a chilled tomb seeped into
her bones.

Lord Kyle rubbed the rough pad of his thumb over her lips
as if in thought.

And all the while she sensed the dragon, almost believed
she heard him breathe.  Nay, she only heard the brush of the wind across the
grain.

Lord Kyle fisted his once-gentle hand on the reins and
urged Valiant to a faster pace.  "Listen to me, Eleanor.  I want you to go
to my chamber.  Bolt the door."

She clutched at his arms.  "Bolt the door?  But what
about you?"

"I go in search of this hide-out."

"But, my lord!  'Twill be dangerous!  Nay.  At least
wait until light."

Valiant's hooves on the wooden drawbridge clattered
accusations:
interference, interference, interference
. 

Would she never learn?  In hopes of helping, she had
endangered him even more.

Lord Kyle pulled his steed to a halt in the shadow of the
gate and pierced her with a tortured glare.  "Who are you, really?  What
is this power you have over me?"  Frustration rasped out with his words,
irate, accusatory.

"Do you need help down from your horse, Kyle?" 
Sir Jerrod's voice pierced through the darkness.

Kyle flinched as if jolted to reality.  "You return
earlier than expected, Jerrod.  Nay, I need not your help with this lass."

"Oh.  So two of you sit atop Valiant.  I thought you'd
gained a goodly amount of weight since your return to the home-hearth.  I feared
the lack of exercise had widened your girth.  But now I see that you most
likely put forth commendable exertion with your companion, although, 'twill
never be enough, at least not for you.  However, 'tis a first for you I
believe, to ride while being ridden."

Eleanor jerked as Lord Kyle leaned down and grabbed Sir
Jerrod by his surcote.  Fabric ripped.  "To tell you to hold your
misplaced humor is like trying to tell a dog not to lap its own vomit, but you
dare show disrespect to Eleanor again and I will cut your tongue from your
over-used mouth."

"Cease!  'Tis habit, Kyle."  Sir Jerrod shoved
Lord Kyle's hand away and retreated a step.  "You've never reacted thus
before now.  You behave as a man who's in . . . "   He drew in a sharp
intake of air, his shadowed expression incredulous.  "My instincts were
correct in urging me to return here instead of continuing to my family’s
holdings.  What foolishness has happened since last I saw you?  Surely you
didn't agree to...I mean, the king...And the dragon...You said she might be
the--"

"Enough, Jerrod!"  Lord Kyle shook him, then
released his hold.

Sir Jerrod caught his balance.  Straightening, he indicated
her with his head.  "Not with this lass, Kyle.  Anyone but her."

Lord Kyle reached around her body.  Metal scraped metal.

He drew his sword!  Heartsick that she had brought friend
against friend Eleanor groped for his fist upon the hilt of his sword. 
"Nay my lord--"

"Heed me, Kyle!"  Sir Jerrod held up his hands. 
'Tis not disrespect I intend.  Eleanor is a winsome lass.  But 'tis
dangerous."

"I said, enough!"

Sir Jerrod stiffened, his fists clenched at his side as if
he struggled to keep his tongue.

Lord Kyle swung to the ground with her in his arms, then
her bare feet touched cold earth, much like the cold that crept into her
heart.  She had caused trouble between friends who were more like brothers. 
And she wondered what Sir Jerrod had started to say about her and the dragon,
and danger.

She longed to ask Lord Kyle again if he had meant to honor
the wager.  Nay, she must have misunderstood, for the king would never allow
such a folly.  Then what?  What did he mean?  She ached to question him
further, but not then, not in front of his fellow knight, a knight who feared
that Lord Kyle showed over-much concern for a peasant, who believed Lord Kyle
should choose any but her.

Even though Lord Kyle caressed her back in a gentle manner,
she felt the tension in the air, thick, heavy. 

He cleared his throat as if to gain control.  "I’m
grateful you’re here, Jerrod.  Now, mount up.  We ride again."

Eleanor whirled and clutched at his arms.  "Nay!  You
must not!  I would speak with you!"

"Not now, love."  Lord Kyle stepped back and
turned toward his horse.  "Come, Jerrod.  We go in search of
vermin."  He swung onto Valiant's back, then strapped his scabbard low on
his hips.

Sir Jerrod appeared shaken from his confrontation with Lord
Kyle, but he forced a smile.  "Ah.  You lure me with bait you know I
cannot resist, to search for vermin in the cold of night instead of searching
for Beth in a warm bed.  How can I refuse?  'Tis tempting beyond words.  Does
this vermin have a name?"