The Dark Knight (19 page)

His eyes remained closed and she studied the crescent sweep of his lashes. There were so many mysteries to ponder about a man who should be almost dull with normalcy; a landless knight like so many at Coleway, men who offered protection from the lord’s enemies in times of war, or an escort for the lord and his family when they traveled to fairs, shrines, or tournaments. Such a man would not be expected to make so many life-or-death decisions about the fate of his liege lord’s daughter, and he would certainly not be so irreverent as Sir Percival was in her presence. He was unlike any other knight she had known, or even any other man she had known. Whatever this attraction was between them, the normal rules of chivalry and courtship did not apply.
Indeed, he made clear there were no rules. They were free to do as they wished. The world of convention and propriety was far away. For this brief moment in time, she was not bound by the rules that made a courtship between an unwed noblewoman and a landless knight impossible. She could do almost anything she wanted. She could smile and flirt with him, kiss him if she pleased. She could …

She blinked once, astonished at the lewd direction of her thoughts, and just as astonished that she did not recoil from the idea. In her mind she stepped closer to the place where rules were left behind, drawn to look over the edge and into the abyss. How would it feel to open her arms and throw caution to the wind, knowing it would be Sir Percival who caught her?

She didn’t know why she felt so certain of him. He had pledged to protect her with his life, but there was an underlying emotion at work that was harder to define, even though it was just as important. It was the way he made her feel when she was in his company, as if she could do or say whatever came into her head and he would understand, that he knew how her mind worked and the meanings behind her words. It was the sort of connection she saw between people who had been friends for a very long time, or siblings who were especially close, or couples who were long wed. She and Percival barely knew each other, but she felt that same sort of bond with him, a sense of ease that was as comfortable as if she had known him all her life.

Her hand reached out seemingly of its own volition to rest against his chest. Warm stone was the first thought that went through her mind. He was so much bigger and harder than she, but there was a gentleness she sensed in him that made his strength intriguing rather than alarming. She suspected he was a man who had known
little of gentleness in his own life, but every time he touched her he seemed to do so with great care, as if she were some sort of breakable treasure. Perhaps it was those small quirks that enticed her, that effortlessly drew her in.

He still hadn’t stirred from the weight of her hand on his chest and she grew bolder, moving her hand upward until her palm rested lightly against his cheek. The warm, sandy texture of his face fascinated her. Her palm tickled where it rested against the dark stubble that shadowed his jaw.

He shifted in his sleep and she went still as he turned his head and rubbed his cheek against her hand. After releasing a deep sigh, he rolled onto his back and then his breathing returned to normal. Her thumb now rested near the corner of his mouth and then she watched it move across his lips. She knew this was madness, but the lure proved irresistible. He would never know. She could pretend for just a few moments that there was nothing wrong with touching him as if it were her right. Even in sleep his mouth looked hard and unyielding, but her fingertips encountered skin as soft as her own. She closed her eyes and let her thumb rub over his lower lip, remembering his kisses, wondering when he would kiss her again, wondering how many kisses they would share before this dream ended.

If they were captured and returned to Coleway, she would be forced to endure John as her husband. When they reached the safety of Weston, she would be given to Faulke Segrave with her honor in tatters regardless of her actions. From all accounts, Faulke was a handsome man, but she had known other handsome men at Coleway and they failed to stir any hint of the desire that Sir Percival could arouse just by looking at her. Percival was risking his life for her and had already forsaken his
honor. Both their lives were at risk on this journey. Allowing him to introduce her to passion seemed a small price to pay. Indeed, it was a selfish price on her part. She had never wanted another man the way she wanted him, and there was a growing fear that she would never again want another man in the same way.

Suddenly his lips parted and a low, husky voice emerged. “You are playing with fire, Avalene.”

She jerked her hand away halfway through that announcement and gaped up at him. The fire he had warned her about was in his eyes, banked for the moment in shades of mossy green, but warm enough to make her blush. She bit her lower lip, trying hard to think up a believable lie for her brazen behavior. “I—I did not think you would awaken … er, mind, if I …”

“You did not think you would be caught,” he finished for her, in the same deceptively mild voice. His eyes narrowed when she began to chew her lower lip again. In one smooth movement, she found herself on her back with Sir Percival looming over her. There was a harsh edge to his features that she interpreted as anger. “Did you think your boldness would displease me?”

“I have no idea what will please or displease you.” She blinked once, searching for the right answer. “You do not look very pleased.”

“I do not look satisfied,” he countered. His gaze fastened on her mouth as he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, mimicking what she had done to him earlier. “Little girls who play with fire get burned.”

She wanted to tell him that she was not a girl, remind him that she was a woman full-grown. She could not utter a word. He had burned her lips with his touch alone. His fingertips inflicted the same sweet punishment along the curve of her cheek and she shuddered,
feeling a familiar tendril of liquid heat unfurl in her belly.

“Ah,
cara
,” he breathed, as he gazed down at her.

“The thoughts you put in my head.”

Cara
. The word sounded foreign to her, yet vaguely familiar. She had heard the word somewhere before, but not in tones so seductive or in a voice that made her breathless with anticipation. Would he kiss her again?

Her thoughts dissolved into swirls of emotion when his lips touched first one corner of her mouth and then the other. He moved lower to trail chaste kisses along the length of her jaw, and lower still to her throat, seemingly intent on exploring every inch of exposed skin. When he lingered near her ear she heard as well as felt him draw a deep breath, as if her scent intrigued him. He slowly released the breath and her whole body rose upward, drawn to him by some invisible force.

“Aye, impossible thoughts,” he murmured, settling some of his weight until his hips rested lightly upon hers. Helplessly, she pressed upward again. His low groan turned into words of encouragement as his mouth trailed a path toward hers. “Kiss me, Avalene.”

Her sensible voice argued that this was
wrong
. Then his hand cupped her cheek and all she could think was,
this is so right
. She obediently turned her head to kiss him. The instant their lips met she felt a tingling sensation begin … in her toes, of all places.

Impossible thoughts began to fill her head as well. Thoughts that maybe the fall would be worth it, that maybe she did deserve to indulge herself on this journey, to learn about lovemaking from a man who found her desirable, from a man of her choosing rather than a man chosen for her by others. This was not wrong.

Determined now to please him, she tried a more serious kiss like the ones he had taught her the night before.
He responded immediately, fitting his mouth to hers, but still letting her set the pace. Soon the chaste kisses were not enough to satisfy the craving that began to build inside her. A craving for what, she wasn’t entirely certain, but each kiss whet her appetite for more. Unfortunately, he seemed in no hurry to ease her hunger.

A wicked thought entered her mind. Before she could think better of the idea, she darted her tongue between his lips in a tentative stroke. He made a sound deep in his chest that was part growl, part groan, and then he took control. He taught her exactly how to taste him, drawing her into his mouth, then gentling the pressure to stroke her with his tongue. The intimacy should’ve shocked her. Instead, she tangled her fingers through his hair to hold him closer, growing hungrier.

Somewhere in her drugged senses she realized that his hands were skimming over her waist and hips, and then working at the ties that fastened her surcoat to loosen the garment. His mouth moved away from hers and she tried to tell him all the amazing thoughts that were running through her head, every feeling, every wonderful new sensation that he brought to life within her. The only sounds she could make were small sighs, then soft little moans when his teeth nibbled painlessly along the sensitive curve of her shoulder.

Her eyes widened when he sat up just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. He tugged at her surcoat until that garment, too, lay in a heap. She had scarcely drawn a breath before he leaned over her again, his weight braced on his hands. “Touch me, Avalene. I want to feel your hands upon me.”

Her gaze drifted across the vast expanse of his naked male chest, at muscles that stood out in rigid relief along his neck and shoulders, and even along the flat planes of his stomach. Before she could think to refuse his
order, he made the decision for her and placed her palm against the center of his chest.

“Feel how my heart beats for you,
cara
.”

For a moment she could feel nothing but the hard warmth of his bare skin, the rough texture of the dark hair across his chest. Then she felt the steady rhythm of his heart, strong and vital, the very essence of his life force. Tears welled in her eyes when she realized what he had just done and all the implied meanings, intentional or not. He had just placed his heart in her hand.

“What is this?” he asked, as he brushed away a stray tear with his thumb.

She could hardly explain what she did not understand herself. Instead, she put both hands on his chest and marveled at the difference between her pale skin and his sun-bronzed flesh. “I like touching you.”

She felt the vibrations of laughter beneath her palms.

“And here I worried that I had shocked your maidenly senses.”

“I have shocked myself,” she admitted, as she spread her fingers to feel more of him. Her hands drifted lower until they rested on the hard ridges of his stomach.

A deep shudder racked his body and her startled gaze flew to his face. His brows were drawn together, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Aye,” he answered hoarsely. He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “Nay, ’tis not pain, but frustration. This is not the time or place for love play.”

Despite his words, one hand moved to the laces of her chemise as his gaze held hers captive. Instinctively, she tried to stop him. Panic set in when he effortlessly brushed her hands away. He began to untie her laces. She looked from one side to the other, searching for a gap in
the branches that surrounded them. “We should not be doing this. Where is Oliver?”

“Asleep on the ridge above us,” he said easily, as he loosened the gathered neckline of her chemise. He glanced over his shoulder toward a place where the ground began to rise. “My other man, Armand, is keeping watch, but he cannot see through the branches of this tree and neither would dare approach before calling out. We are alone.” He turned back to her with a determined expression. “You are so beautiful; I just want to look at more of you. ’Twill go no further, I swear.”

He parted her chemise before she could object and she felt a chill of cool air on her breasts. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover herself and closed her eyes as well, but he gently pushed her hands away.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. His hand moved to her throat and he stroked the sensitive skin with the tips of his fingers. He traced a line down the center of her chest and her own breath caught in her throat, waiting to see what he would do next.

She had overheard enough gossip to know that a man often fondled a woman’s breasts when he kissed her. Percival’s intentions appeared obvious, but he surprised her by tracing the same innocent path back to her throat, his fingers lingering on a pulse point in her neck. She felt a painless ache in her breasts and
wanted
his touch there, but he lowered his head for another kiss and his fingers brushed along the line of her jaw.

Eventually his hand began to drift lower as if he couldn’t help himself, at first stroking her shoulders, then moving to her breasts, tracing their shape, cupping her as if to gauge their weight. The ache intensified. He drew back far enough to look into her eyes and then he brushed his thumb across one of her nipples in the same kind of stroke that he had used on her lips. Her back
arched and she gasped, overwhelmed by the shock of sensations that surged through her.

He seemed to know how to calm her, how to gentle the ragged burst of emotions. He cradled her face and made small hushing sounds near her ear as his lips pressed kisses into her shoulder. Her breathing had barely returned to normal when he shifted to settle more fully between her legs. Their lips touched at the same moment his chest touched hers, and the weight of his big body settled over her. They both gasped.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sensation of his bared skin against her own, at the unexpected shock of contact that passed between them. She wanted to ask him if that always happened, but he took her breath away with deep, drugging kisses and she soon forgot the question. She was in heaven … until his whole body suddenly stiffened and went still. He gathered her closer until it felt as if she were surrounded by him on every side.

The words he bit out were laced with such quiet venom that at first she thought it was emotion that made them incomprehensible.
“Rami, se veramente vuole morire, la accontento. Allora, lasciaci in pace! Capisce?”