One Snowy Knight (36 page)

“Noel!” Guillaume yelled. He was already partway across the beach, headed to check on Dorcas. He turned and came back at a run.

Ella charged straight for Noel. Instead of protecting himself, he turned to shield Skena from the crazed woman.

A knife held in her hand, Ella screamed, “My baby! You killed my baby!”

The knife caught Noel in the lower back. Though the blade did not penetrate the mail shirt, the force of the blow to his wound, reinjured by Daragh, caused him to slump to one knee, still striving to pull Skena out of Ella’s range. Ella slashed at Noel again, but Skena blocked the arc of her swing. Noel surged to his feet, slamming his sword upward, catching Ella under her chin with the pommel and knocking her out.

“Tie the bitch up and toss her into the pit until she can be fetched to Challon. He can deal with the crone.”

Stephan came running back, frowning at the squire who had allowed Ella loose. “What means this? She was bound.”

The young man shrugged. “She had to pee.”

Noel growled, half-vexed with the green lad’s folly, half in pain. “Pee my arse. Never again fall for such a ploy. It will see you dead, or lashes to your back.”

“The woman is dead,” Stephan offered the tides. “The wolves with her. You go ahead, back to Craigendan with your lady. We will see to fetching her body back.”

Noel nodded, and led Skena to Brishen. “We need to get you back and into a hot bath to warm you. You are shivering.”

“Part cold. Part terrified,” she replied, watching him mount.

Guillaume scooped her up and deposited her crosswise on Noel’s lap. Situating her securely, he wrapped his mantle around her, too, to add its extra warmth. He took a moment to sigh relief. He swallowed hard to keep back the tears that threatened to come. His warrior’s mien had not failed him. But he was left humbled and holding his precious wife in his arms, knowing she was safe; fate had not been so cruel, a second time, as to take away his life, his future.

“Where are the children and Muriel?” Skena asked, trying not to cry anymore.

“Safe. I sent them back to Craigendan with a guard of two. They should be in the care of Lady Rowanne by now.” Pulling up the hood about her face, he brushed his lips softly against hers. “I am going to beat you when I get you home, wife,” he whispered.

“You will not,” she said, knowing it to be the truth.

Noel was forever threatening her with such treatment, but he would never raise a hand to her. This she knew as well as that the sun would rise in the morn; the knowledge shown in her eyes.

“This time I mean it. I do not think anything in life has ever scared me more than seeing you struggling with Daragh.”

“Then I will have to beat you, as well. For nothing has ever scared me as much as watching you fight that evil man.”

Noel gently nudged Brishen with his knees, giving him the command to move forward. Since the horse obeyed his knee and foot instructions, Noel was able to hold her close. So close she could feel his heart beating.

“I love you Noel de Servian. More than life,” Skena whispered against his chest.

Noel held a finger to his lips to stop Jenna from greeting him as he noiselessly entered the lord’s chamber. Skena’s back was to the door, and the maidservant was soaping her shoulders with a cloth. Jenna smiled as she spotted him. He winked at her and then flicked two fingers toward the door in a silent dismissal. Giving a nod, she passed him the rag, and then tiptoed from the room. At the doorway the young woman paused; a wistful smile molded her face before she gently closed the door.

“The lavender and the heat are relaxing,” Skena murmured and then sighed as he trailed the cloth over her beautiful shoulders and neck. “I could stay here all night, but help me out before Noel returns.”

“Noel has returned,” he whispered against her ear, then laughed as she jumped.

Her face alight, Skena turned partially around and gave him a drowsy smile. “Noel.”

“I just checked on Muriel and the children, and all three sleep soundly.” Leaning forward, he kissed the back of her neck, grinned as it raised gooseflesh. “You are giving me that come hither smile, hoping I will forget that I promised to beat you once I got you back to Craigendan.”

She rotated even more and then fluttered her eyelashes. “Come hither, Noel de Servian.”

“Oh, you live dangerously, my lady.” He dropped the rag and reached backward to tug his sark off over his head. He dropped it on the bench and sat down beside it to unlace his boots.

Skena watched him with hungry eyes as he stood to undo the front of his chausses and then push them off along with his braies. “Ah, my braw husband.”

“Braw? Just braw?” He arched his brow. “Not beautiful?”

Her bare shoulder gave a small shrug. “Mayhap…hmm…a wee bit bonnie.”

“Bonnie? But not beautiful?” he taunted.

“’Tis said men do not like being called beautiful.” Skena tried to play innocent.

“Well, this one loves it.” Pushing her forward in the tub, he started to step into the hot water behind her.

“Och, what are you doing, my lord husband?” she gasped.

He gave a low throaty chuckle. “Well, I am
coming…hither,
wife.”

She scooted forward to give him a bit more room. Her laughter bubbled forth as water splashed over the edge. “I am not sure we will both fit. As Muriel said, there is so much of you.”

“Trust me. We will
fit
…perfectly. I told you I would show you that we could.” He slid his legs carefully on either side of hers, and once settled, pulled her back against his chest. “Not too cramped, eh?”

“Mmmm.” Skena almost purred as his arm encircled her. “I agree…. It might be near perfect. Such a clever husband I have.”

Noel nipped at her earlobe as his arms flexed to pull her more tightly to him. “Are you going to proclaim how clever I am after I beat you?”

“You will not beat me. You bray such nonsense—”

“Bray? How dare you compare me to a fool jackass, wench!” He flipped her in the tub, so she was half draped across him, her right hip exposed above water. Feeling devilish, he planted his palm against her backside.

“Och, that stings,” she complained, but playfully, telling him that it did not smart too much. “Why did you do that?”

“To prove I am a man of my word. I said I would beat you—so consider yourself properly beaten, wife. Now you will obey me and not run off and scare me out of ten years of my life. I am not a young man. Never again should you trouble me in such a fashion.”

“Me? Trouble?” she spluttered as she rotated in the tub to face him.

“Aye, trouble. You go dashing about in snowstorms—” He started to rail at her, but she moved her thigh between his, rocking gently against his groin. “Ah, that is…
distracting.”

“Merely trying to help you
come
…
hither.
” Skena pressed her breasts against his chest and then nipped his chin. “Seems to me that I was dashing about in the snow when I found one snowy knight. Where would you be had I not been out causing
trouble?
”

Rolling his eyes, he pretended to think about the question. “Hmm…I suppose instead of the wolf being in my belly, I would be in his—”

Skena made a mournful face and thumped his chest. “How horrid! Never say such things. You do not know how scared I was that night.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye, I do. I remember most of it. My valiant lady warrior. No one ever fought for me before you.” He stroked the back of his hand against her cheek. “I also recall how you faced the pack another time, to protect and provide for the people of Craigendan—another instance of your running about. I will not have it, Skena. Do not scare me like that ever again.”

“De Servian, do hush. Give me those kissing lessons to make me call you Noel again.” Skena brushed her lips against his. “I love you, more than words can ever tell you.”

He hefted Skena so she was sitting astride him, his hands gripping the firm globes of her derrière, torn between the driving physical desire clamoring within his blood to rule, and the need to make her understand all these wonderful emotions that were so new to him. The emotions won. “Words can mean a lot. I am not sure I will ever tire of hearing
I…love…you
—or saying it. I do love you, Skena. It scares me how much. ’Tis not an easy thing for a warrior to admit. I have stood before the mouth of hell unleashed, killed to keep from being killed, seen the vile brutality and ugliness that man can conjure. None of it terrifies me with the same depth as the fear of losing you.”

She rubbed her thumb slowly over his lower lip, totally mesmerized by the small caress. “I understand, my love. The moments I stood and watched you fight Daragh were the longest of my life. Every breath, I feared one slip and I would lose you. So I know the fear. I suppose in time, when we are old and gray, mayhap the fear will ease.”

“I would not wager anything of value on that.” He took her mouth in such tenderness that Skena’s shaky hand reached up, her fingers brushing his cheek, proclaiming her awe at the profound bond they shared. Still, his blood could be held at bay for only so long. A naked, wet Skena pressed against his body saw his reason melting and his passion taking control. His groin nearly cramped from the blood flooding his flesh, sending its pulsing hot length nudging against Skena’s mound.

“I wanted so to tell you of my love, what you bring to me. Will you be angry with me if other parts of my body rule?” he said against her lips.

Her eyes flashing, she slowly shook her head no. “I was wondering when we would get to the ‘come hither’ part.” She shifted so her body was open to him, her hips rotating gently, rocking the mushroom tip into her channel. “Use those other ways to warm me de Servian.”

“Noel,” he corrected. He bore down on her derrière with his palms, impaling her with a single trust.

Skena nearly purred. “Noel. My snowy knight with the name of Christmas.”