Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry (15 page)

She turned her gaze back on him, s
tartled by how close he was now. He leaned all the way forward, his knees touched hers, his face was only inches away, and he held the arrow up to her nose.

“Admit it was you who shot this arrow.”

Her mouth w
ent
dry, stomach fluttered. How could she possibly answer him when all she could think about was kissing him?

She licked her lips. “
I cannot
.”

He grunted and sat back, his eyes still fixed on hers. “Elena, do you not remember?” With brows raised, he looked like he was teasing her.

“Remember what?”

“I am the one who taught you to paint a golden ring on your arrows.”

Now she frowned in earnest. She did not recall this piece of information. Her stomach turned to ice as she racked her brain for some memory.
No wonder
he’d known it was her. Michael had always been proud of her skill, but she’d become so used to fading into the background. Kent would never stand for her having participated in the battle, even if she did fell many an enemy.

“I can see from the way you are frowning you don’t remember. Well,
princess,
the ring represents your
royal
crown.”

With his mention of her childhood name, visions bombarded her mind. Visions of a young Michael helping her notch her arrows.
Michael running and pointing toward her arrow in a target.
Michael painting a ring on her arrow
and saying
,
“a crown for a princess.”

“What did you think you were doing?” he asked, incredulity coming out in his tone.

“Well, obviously saving your hide.” She let her annoyance at him show. How dare he insinuate she had done anything other than save his sorry arse!

“My hide did not need saving,” he growled. “Leave men’s work to men, just as we leave your work to you.”

Anger rose from deep inside her and gnashed its teeth. She stood, and poked him in the chest. “You are only here because of me.”

Michael rose from his seat, his face flushed with temper. He stepped closer to her, the tips of his boots touching the silk of her slippers. A tremor of fear passed through her. She had crossed the line and she well knew it.
Too late to take anything back.

“Do not forget the reason you summoned me. If you wish me to keep you safe, best heed my rules.”

Fears subsided and anger reared its head again. She wasn’t afraid of Michael. “You are not my husband!”

She regretted the words as soon as she said them. But what could she do? There was no magic to pull the words from the air and make them disappear. Michael’s face was stricken. Pain, anger, disappointment all painted on his chiseled features. What deluded impulse had made her shout such a contemptuous thing at her beloved? The man she wished was her husband.
The man she’d intended to be her husband…

Elena did the only thing she knew how to do well.
The only thing that kept her alive these past
several
years.

She ran.

She ran from her words.
Ran from the chaos that was her life.
R
an from the pain she caused—the ruin. Never again would Michael look at her with fondness. This was the thanks she’d given the man who’d traveled from another country to protect her. What madness addled her brain?

Not enough sleep.
Too much stress.
Years of abuse.
This is what her mind screamed. She’d lashed out at the only man she trusted. In the safety and darkness of the stairwell she leaned back against the wall, one hand covering her heart and the other pressed against her hip. She breathed deeply and evenly, trying to calm herself. She was on the verge of
hysterics
.

And then, anger boiled anew. Lifting the hem of her dress, she charged up the stairs to her solar. The man she’d bet her life on had just tried to rule over her. The lout! How dare he?

A strong han
d wrapped around her arm and urged her to turn around.

"My lady..."
 
Michael
whisper
ed
.

Her mouth fell open, and she shut it again, feeling like a fish out of water. Why was he being so gentle with her? After all she’d said? She knew then
exactly what type of husband Michael
would have been: the perfect one. She wrenched her arm from his light grasp and turned to continue up the stairs. She couldn’t face him. Mortification, anger, hurt, all warred within her.

Elena almost tripped on the next stair as
 
Michael tunneled past her, blocking her way.

He gazed at her in question, beseeching her.
“Elena
, please.”

Their eyes locked and for a brief moment all time stopped. Her troubles melted away as she gazed into his
bluish-
green eyes. Her chest pounded with un-expelled breath. She let it out, only to suck it back in again. Her heart beat erratically, and her feet, disobeying her pleas, moved one step closer to him.

Again her lips parted, but no words came out. They reached for each other, and
 
for a breath of time she almost let him kiss her. Almost let the desire that had been building in them both break free. But she couldn't. Not on the stairs, not when they were so exposed. If someone were to see...it would be the death of them both.

Elena turned her head, resting it on the cool stone wall. “I can't...” She couldn't finish
 
the words that needed to be spoken.

“Oh, my love.”
Michael’s voice sounded choked, as if he held back a great
 
force of emotion. He grasped her arm to him, laying his head upon her shoulder and kissed the tender spot in the crook of her elbow. Elena stifled the moan threatening to escape from such a simple yet sensual gesture.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I know how much you must have lost coming here for me, and for me to act like such a wretched woman toward you—” Tears streamed down her face as the words came out in torrents. “Please, forgive me. I
didn’t mean it. You know more than anyone in this world that I would give anything to be with you.”

“
Shh
…” He pulled her into his warm embrace.

Suddenly she didn’t care who saw them, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Michael—”

“Hush, love, I know,” he murmured into her hair.

If only fate had not wronged them from the beginning. If only she were stronger.
If only...

Chapter
Twelve

“C
ome with me,” Michael whispered. His lips pressed against
Elena’s
ear as he spoke. Shivers danced their way deliciously across her limbs. Her face filled with heat.

Sadness gave way to a sense of excitement
rippling
through her veins. She hadn’t felt this adventurous since she was a child—and even then it had been with Michael.

Elena found herself being pulled up the spiral stairs. The corridor was dimly lit by a wall sconce and shadows lurked everywhere. At any moment she expected one of Kent’s spies to jump from a dark corner and declare them adulterers.
But no one did.

“Where are we going? We can’t, you can’t,” she started when saw they headed toward her bed chamber.

“
Shh
…”
Held his finger to her lips to silence her protests.

When they came to her solar door, she placed a wavering hand on his forearm.

“My lady’s maids sleep in the adjoining chamber.”

“We shan’t wake them, my lady,” he murmured.

Her heart hammered in her chest, half from excitement half from disbelief. He wouldn’t dare!

Michael
opened the door quietly and they slipped inside. She paused for a moment, her breath held,
chest
burning. Her eyes nearly popped from their sockets, and her ears felt like they would drown in the silence it was so deafening. Michael gripped her hand in his, so warm, so large. They hurried through the door of her solar, past the room which held her ladies and then into her adjoining bedchamber. He closed the do
or, barring it
.

O
ne ha
nd gripping her on the waist, Michael
pulled her taut against him. They stood together like that for a
moment, just enjoying the heat of each other, the feel of a body pressed against one’s own. Lord, she had never experienced anything quite so exquisite.

Elena
knew what was going to happen, if she let it. She craved it, but abhorred it at the same time. The way he made her feel when he touched her was unreal. He filled her with desire and pleasure, something she’d never experienced before. For her,
intimacy
had only ever yielded pain.
From start to finish.
Kent was cruel with her body.

She shivered.

“Are you cold? I will build up the fire.” Michael walked to her hearth, took a poker, and stoked the embers. He added on a few more logs until it blazed high.

She should let him know the cause for her shivers were not from lack of warmth but from fear.

As if sensing she needed to be coddled and wooed, he took a fur blanket from her bed and placed it in front of the fire. He sat down, and patted the spot beside him.
Elena smiled wanly and
joined him, leaning against his broad frame. Michael scooted to sit behind her, tucking her neatly between his sinewy thighs, and pulling her back against his firmly muscled chest.

She tried to relax, to lean into him like she wanted to, but fear of discovery made it impossible.

“Let go of your troubles,” he crooned into her ear. The bristles from his day’s growth of beard tickled her sensitive flesh. His hands rubbed gently up and down her arms.
“I was careful. No one saw us. Not even the shadows.”

Part of her tension floated away. “What if Kent decides he wants to visit me?”
she whispered, ha
ting the fact that she reminded not only herself, but Michael that she was a woman already married.

He continued to stroke her arms, rubbing away her fears. “He won’t come to you tonight.” His words were strong, not a single strain of doubt laced within them.

All traces of fear subsided, and she truly relaxed, a sigh escaping her.
Michael’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.
She rested her arms over his, their fingers entwined. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head. Even though the kiss was fleeting, it sent a tremor coursing through her. She wanted Michael to make love to her. Show her what it was like to be in such an intimate embrace, his flesh inside her
. N
o anger, just love pulsing through her.

“Michael?” she asked, suddenly shy, her gaze fixed on the fire crackling in the hearth.

“
Aye?”
His voice was low
, his fingers danced within hers.

Suddenly
Elena
pulled away
,
turn
ing to
face him. She knelt between his thighs, her hands braced against each of his cheeks. She brought her lips to his, placing a
delicate
kiss upon them.

“Make love to me,” she breathed against his mouth. “I want to know what it’s like to have a man, a real man, love my body.”

Michael
moaned deep in his throat, his hands coming up to thread through her hair.
“As you wish, princess.”

His
mouth
pressed more firmly to hers, his tongue swe
e
p
ing
out to tease the crease of her lips
. Elena
opened for him, wanting him all the more. Their tongues tangled, rubbed, danced back and forth, igniting a fire inside her she’d never known. He gently pushed her back onto the fur rug, his mouth never parting from hers, and he trailed his fingers over shoulder
s
, her chest, and down the center of her breasts. The gentle
flutter
of his fingers
was akin to
a hundred butterflies dancing over her.
Her stays were an unwanted
restriction against the sensation. She wanted to feel his fingers against her bare flesh. But she needn’t have said a word.
Michael
trailed a path over her hip and untied the girdle loosely knotted there. A distant
plop
told her he’d tossed the belt
aside.

Her stomach leaped into her throat. This was truly happening.
At long last.
In the woods when they’d handfasted, she’d dreamed of it and not a day had passed when she hadn’t longed to be in his presence. If it weren’t for Kent, she’d be Michael’s wife in truth. Tonight she would pretend.

’Twas a sin to desire him.
’Twas a sin to let him touch her.
Well then, she was a sinner. And Elena wasn’t going to stop him.

His lips burned a path from her mouth to her neck, where he nuzzled her, sending ripples to rise on her flesh from head to toe. She moaned softly at his touch.
Michael
lifted her gown until it was mid-thigh, and he traced circles from her ankle to her knee, and then stopped, hovering over the bare flesh of her thigh. She opened her eyes to find him gazing deeply into her own.

“Elena, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this moment.”

She smiled. “From the moment I met you, I wanted you to be mine.”

“The dreams and fantasies of a little girl are hardly what I had in mind.” He
winked,
his lips quirking into a teasing smile.

Elena laughed softly. “No, they melded into the desires of a woman—a wife, your wife.”

Michael growled low in his throat and pushed himself to kneeling. He lifted her right leg and kissed her ankle before removing her slipper. The touch of his lips on a spot so sensitive sent a roll of delicious desire coursing through her belly. With nimble hands he peeled her hose down and off her foot, where he again kissed her ankle, only this time it was bare flesh to his lips. Elena gasped, her hands clutching the fur rug beneath her. Michael placed her naked limb, knee bent up, on the side of his hip. Her gown and chemise fell between
her thighs, hiding her most sacred spot, but a feral gleam in his eyes showed her he had caught sight of the dewy curls nestled at her center. Her womb contracted, fluttered, a sensation she’d never experienced before. She sucked in her breath, and bit her lip. Michael was bringing out a side of her she’d never known. A side she wished to have only ever known
—not the fear making love had wrought in this castle
.
This feeling s
hould have been hers years ago.
He showed
her what it was like to be made love to, slowly, sensually, lovingly. He continued the ritual with her left leg, kissing her ankle, removing her slipper and hose, and kissing her flesh again. He placed her leg on the outside of his opposite hip, and knelt between her parted legs.

Elena’s knees shook, her body trembled, felt like it was on fire. She reached her him. He hovered over her, his arms bracing his weight on either side of her shoulders as he nipped at her lips, sucked the tender flesh and then claimed her mouth for a savage, hungry kiss. With her toes she trailed over his calves and the backs of his thighs, before she realized what she was doing.

“Why did you stop?” he murmured against her lips.

“I…I don’t know.” Why had she stopped? Michael wanted her to touch him
. K
nowing he desired her touch
just as much as she yearn
ed for
his
pushed her forward. She did it again, loving the feel of his body against her.

Elena
trailed
her fingers
up and over his arms, worshipping each and every line of sinew. Over his back, massaging, stroking. He was so strong, taut. She tugged on his linen shirt until he relented and took it off.
Bronze
muscled chest, ripp
ling stomach, and thick
arms were her treat. She splayed her hands over his chest, the sprinkle of c
risp
hair tickling her palms. She liked touching him.
Relished
his
groans of pleasure
and his
hooded passionate gaze.

So, this wa
s what making love
wa
s. Giving pleasure and receiving it in return
.

She
had the sudden craving
to feel his skin against her own. Elena sat up, pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, and then moved to stand. He stayed knelt before her, and after untying the sides of her gown, she lifted
i
t up and over her head. She stood before him, nearly nude with her chemise and
stays
hiding her flesh from his eyes.

“Turn around.” His gentle command was given in a husky tone that sent shivers of delight racing
along
her spine.

She obeyed him. N
ot
for
fear of retribution, but because she wanted desperately to be out of her clothes.
Desired at this moment more than anything, to feel his flesh on hers, his mouth on her skin.

With deft fingers he unlaced her corset and let it fall to the ground.
Elena resisted the urge to throw it into the hearth.
Michael
lifted the hem of her chemise exposing her behind. She moved to shove it back down instinctively, but then his hot lips were on the round flesh of her nether cheek, she gasped,
then
sighed.
Everything Michael did felt good. Better than good.
Wicked, delicious.
He nipped her flesh
. Elena gasped
with shock
as torrents
of unknown, seductive sensations
rippled through her. She tugged the chemise over her head and whipped it to the side.

With his warm hands on her hips he turned to her face him, her most intimate part only inches from his face. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment
.

“You are even more gorgeous than I ever imagined.”

His hands splayed over her hips. His eyes hungrily took in every inch of her. Michael couldn’t have been aware of how much his words meant to her, how much she’d craved to hear that she was desirous.

“Thank y—” she started to murmur, but her words were cut off as he buried his face in the juncture of her thighs.

Her knees threatened to buckle, and she
stifled a cry
. He kissed her
curls, his hands massaging, coaxing.

“Your scent is intoxicating.” His spoken words against
the sensitive flesh sent cascading waves
of decadence
through her. “I’m going to taste you.”

“Oh, God,” she mumbled, her head falling back.

He pulled her closer, his tongue delving between the slick folds of her nether region, flicking over a heightened sensual spot that caused her insides to turn to mush, her knees to quake violently, and moans of pleasure to escape unheeded from her lips.

What he did to her felt too wondrous to stop, and too wicked to be anything but sin. Never had she imagined that a man and a woman could make love like this. Michael was opening up a whole new world to her, one she never wanted to leave, and one that would ultimately have to end, or they’d both be put up on the chopping block.