Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set (44 page)

I settle back into the pillows, mulling all of this
over. “This is your way of helping me accept my plight here, isn’t
it, Bridget?”

She shrugs. “In a way ‘tis, lass. But I got ‘nother
message fer ye too. If ye truly want yer chance to be free o’ this
place, makin’ a big splash at the Harlots’ Ball is the way to go.
‘Tho I don’t got the faintest idea how ye’ll accomplish that.”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “
I
do.”

****

The day of the Harlot’s Ball has arrived. I’m in my
chambers, standing on a cushioned pedestal while Bridget pins up
the hem on my new ballgown. A ballgown I designed myself, I might
add.

I’ll never claim to know much about fashion. Most of
my pre-medieval-abduction clothes were worn Levis and tight
polyester-elastic tops I bought at the Cherry Hill Mall. But I did
always pay attention to what the actresses and supermodels wore
down the red carpet when they broadcast the Emmys and Oscars on TV.
So I’ll admit that my gown design probably won’t win any fashion
awards if I ever manage to get back to the twenty-first century.
But I can guarantee that it’s like nothing they’ve ever seen in the
twelfth century.

“I swear, lass, I ain’t sure ‘bout this gown o’
yours,” Bridget says around a mouthful of straight pins. “Seems a
trifle odd if ye ask me.”

Bridget is right—it
is
a trifle odd. But it’s
also more than a trifle sexy.

My ballgown in one part medieval princess, two parts
dominatrix, and one part urban vampire. With a little Nicole
Kidman-style glam thrown in. I must say, I’m pretty proud of
it.

The gown has a long, asymmetrical overskirt in
black, and a longer, fuller underskirt in deep blood red. The
skirts are gathered into a tight pointed waistline that leads up to
a red-and-black laced corset that leaves almost nothing to the
imagination. The plunging neckline reveals my snow-white
décolletage, and the corset itself is split open, revealing a black
satin stomacher beneath that stops just shy of my nipples. The
result is enough sexy, shiny cleavage for a
Maxim
cover.

If the red-hot corset and the skirt with a design
and color scheme right out of a
Van Helsing
comic weren’t
spicy enough, I more than make up for it on my upper half. One half
of the bodice is sleeveless and shoulderless, all the material
gathered up over my left shoulder in the “elegant cavewoman” style
sported by so many high-fashion getups on the Oscar red carpet last
year (and poorly knocked off a week later at Bloomingdale’s). But
my very own designer original is no knockoff. Unlike the “elegant
cavewoman” gowns at the Oscars that had one demure, solid
shoulder-to-wrist sleeve, my one sleeve is like an arm corset,
laced up one side and down the other with red and black satin
ribbons that show off plenty of skin.

Just as soon as Bridget is finished with that hem,
I’ll be ready to stroll into the Harlot’s Ball as the baddest,
sexiest, most fashion-forward dominatrix the Middle Ages has ever
seen.

Bridget pins up the last bit of hem, takes a needle
and thread from her bosom pocket, and begins to sew. “I hope ye
know what ye are doin’, lass. You’re liable to turn more than a few
heads this evenin’ in that getup.”

“Oh, I’ve got everything all planned out, don’t
worry.” And I do. In a manner of speaking, anyway. I haven’t
exactly worked out all the details yet.

Bridget finishes sewing up the hem, dusts off her
hands, and stands up. “Well, I’d love to hear what ye ‘ave in mind,
considerin’ that ye want me help escapin’ th’ Hall an’ all.”

I bite my lip. “It’s kind of um, well,
complicated.”

Bridget folds her arms across her chest and cocks
her head at me. “I ain’t a-gonna let up ‘til ye at least gimme a
hint, lass.”

“Well, Bridget, let’s just say I’ll be putting some
of my unique talents on display tonight,” I say. “The gown is all
part of that. And if all goes well, you and I will have some help
on our quest to get out of here and back to our own times.”

Bridget purses her lips. “But I thought ye’uz gonna
take me to America with ye, lass.”

“Oh yeah, right, of course,” I stammer. “Assuming
you still want to go. Trenton, New Jersey really isn’t that great
of a place.”

“I’m sure it beats bein’ locked up here as a common
chambermaid, lass,” she replies. “I’ll just sit back an’ let ye do
yer work, an’ ye kin let me know if ye need me ‘elp along the
way.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “Especially since most of the
work is going to involve me, two naked men, and a lot of rope.”

Bridget gives me a strange look. “Probably best I
don’t ask no more questions then, lass,” she says, then disappears
down the hall to find some cold cream.

I take a long look at myself in the full-length
mirror. I almost don’t recognize the sultry figure staring back at
me. All traces of the mousy, timid, and geeky New Jersey toll
collector and history buff are gone. In their place is a tall,
voluptuous, and insanely sexy vamp in a medieval
dominatrix-slash-time-traveling-sorceress outfit. I could have
walked right off the set of a
Red Sonja
movie. Or maybe a
glammed-up medieval version of
Resident Evil.
I can hardly
believe the transformation myself.

The only question now is, how am I going to use my
wild new self-image to get what I want the most? And moreover, what
exactly
do
I want the most?

Just a few short weeks ago, the answer to that
question would have been easy—a one-way trip back to New Jersey,
without so much as a glance back in the Hall of Harlots’ direction.
But now, things are a lot more complicated. Not only do I think I
might have fallen in love with Pembroke, I’ve also fallen in lust
with the Rose Knight. Not to mention the fact that I am enjoying
the hell out of my new role as Lady Louisa of the Crossroads,
medieval dominatrix and sexpot extraordinaire. Enjoying it a bit
too much, in fact. I’m enjoying it so much, I’m even wondering
whether it makes sense to try to escape the Hall of Harlots at
all.

I shake my head hard, trying to clear it of all the
confusing thoughts. I have a mission to focus on tonight, after
all. Tonight, by hook or by crook, I need to get Lord Verdigris,
Pembroke, and the Rose Knight into my bed. Maybe all at the same
time. And then, I need to figure out what the hell is going on with
those time-travel portals—even if the very idea of traveling
through time unescorted scares the crap out of me.

It’s a lot to keep a girl busy. Especially when
she’s wearing a corset.

Chapter
11

I’ve only been at the Harlots’ Ball for five
minutes, and I’ve already having problems.

Like Madam Jasphet and her minions, for example.
They’ve been staring me down from across the room ever since I got
here. Madam Jasphet looks seconds away from throwing a poison asp
fangs-first in my direction, while Mabel the flapper and Prudence
the corseted Victorian make menacing (and obscene) gestures at me.
I’ve already tried getting them off my tail several times, but no
matter how much I move around the room (or duck into corners, or
hide behind chamber pots) they always reappear, bent on winning a
Stare To The Death contest.

Suddenly the idea of time travel doesn’t seem so
bad.

As if on cue, Pembroke pops out of one of the heavy
wooden doors just behind me. He’s dressed in an outfit tailor-made
for Napoleon’s court—a blue velvet frock coat with gold trim, a
cream-colored silk cravat, and bright yellow breeches. Even if
Pembroke’s attire is separated from everyone else’s in the room by
hundreds of years, he doesn’t seem out of place at all. He glances
over both shoulders to see if anyone is watching us besides Madam
Jasphet and her minions—whom he pretends not to notice—then sidles
up to me. “Ah, Lady Louisa,” he whispers, placing a hand
surreptitiously on the small of my back. “You are the best sight
I’ve seen all day.”

“It’s been a lot longer than a day since we last saw
each other,” I point out, trying hard not to sound bitter.

“I know, madam,” he whispers, leaning in closer.
“Forgive me. It has been too difficult to escape my duties on the
Personal Guard. And Lord Verdigris has become quite possessive of
you.”

“You’d never know it from my end,” I whisper back,
all the while keeping one eye on Madam Jasphet. “He hasn’t been in
to see me in almost two weeks. Nobody else has, either.” I think
about mentioning that my crotch has been getting pretty damn itchy
for satisfaction since its last spectacular encounter with the Rose
Knight, but decide against it.

“I believe Lord Verdigris and the others have just
been preoccupied these last weeks,” he replies. “As have I. Louisa,
His Lordship has kept me on a rather tight leash since last we saw
each other. I am rather worried that he suspects something is
between us.”

My stomach does a little flip-flop. “Are you
sure?”

“No, madam, I am not. But I do have my suspicions,
especially since His Lordship has insisted I accompany him on his
two most recent time-travel excursions to Ancient Babylonia. ‘Tho I
believe I’ve discovered two new portals in the Castle as the
benefit of doing so.”

I take a few tiny steps towards one of the tiny
sitting-room nooks that jut off the ballroom and jerk my heard for
Pembroke to follow me there. “Two new portals, huh? And where might
they be?”

Pembroke grins. “Well, you might have a little
trouble believing this, madam,” he says. “But one of them just
happens to be the doorway into your bedchamber.”

I raise an eyebrow. “How is that possible? If that
were true, wouldn’t I have noticed somebody coming and going
through my doorway from centuries afar by now?”

Pembroke chuckles. “Alas, madam, with time travel
there come many paradoxes.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Perhaps it will be easier for you to understand
once you and I succeed in opening one of the portals,” he replies.
“There is another portal at the far end of the ballroom, just
before the gateway into the Hall of Harlots. That one will probably
be easier for us to access tonight.”

“Not necessarily,” I counter, “considering your
theory of how we open them. How am I supposed to tap into my
sensual powers in full view of everyone? Getting hot and heavy
requires a little privacy, you know.”

Pembroke chuckles again. “Oh, I am sure we shall
manage. And once the Ball has been in full swing for an hour or
two, everyone will be too drunk with grog and merriment to
notice.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” I scan the room,
looking for Lord Verdigris and the Rose Knight, and see neither.
“Tell me something, Pembroke. How do you feel about a
ménage a
trois
?”

“I have never had the pleasure of sampling one,
madam. Tho’ to sample one in your arms would be a pleasure in the
extreme.”

“Good,” I say with a grin. “Because you just
volunteered.” I take him by the arm and steer him across the
ballroom towards the spot where he says the time portal is. “But
before we get started, you need to find us a partner in crime.”

“Pray, whatever do you mean, madam?” Pembroke asks,
mock-serious.

“If we’re going to have a
ménage a trois
,
Pembroke, then we need to find a
trois
. I already have
someone in mind, in fact.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And who might that be,
madam?”

“Someone who can probably help the two of us on our
quest. The Rose Knight.”

Pembroke does a double-take. “The
Rose
Knight?
The Rose Knight
himself
? I think I’d rather be
eaten alive by wolves.”

“Why do you say that?”

Pembroke frowns. “I trust you are not acquainted
with the Rose Knight’s reputation?”

“Oh, I’ve heard a little about it here and there,” I
say, evasive.

“Then you obviously have not heard how the Rose
Knight looks upon every man besides himself as a mortal enemy.”

That stops me in my tracks. “No, I haven’t heard
that part.”

“It’s true,” Pembroke replies. “The Rose Knight is
so embittered by what happened to his beloved that he blames the
entire male half of humanity for it.”

“Well, Pembroke, it might interest you to know that
I hold considerable sway with the Rose Knight,” I say. “And what
better opportunity is there for you to change his opinion on all of
mankind than by having a little fun in the sack with him and me—a
woman he adores?”

Pembroke mulls that over for a moment. “Are you
really sure he admires you as much as all that, madam? Because I
daresay that would make you a most formidable woman indeed.”

“Oh, I’m formidable, all right,” I chirp just as I
catch sight of the Rose Knight out of the corner of my eye. He’s
just entered the ballroom, and dressed in full shining armor at
that, dragging his seven-foot lance alongside him.

The Rose Knight is always ready for battle, even at
a party.

“Speak of the devil,” I whisper into Pembroke’s left
ear. “There he is.”

“I shall allow you to approach him, madam,” he
whispers back. “Because I daresay the man frightens me.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Pembroke,
I
frighten
him.
In a good way.”

I sashay over to the far side of the room, my
vampire-like skirts swishing across the floorboards and catching
the firelight in their red satin seams. I stop just short of The
Rose Knight’s polished steel boot-tops. “Hello, Trenton,” I coo.
“Remember me?”

His green eyes meet mine, and he smiles. “Of course,
milady. How could I forget you?”

“Stranger things have happened, Trenton. I hope you
don’t mind me calling you that out here in the open.”

He glances over both shoulders, making sure no one
is listening. “So long as no one hears, milady, you may call me
whatever name pleases you.”