Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry (7 page)

He growled through his teeth in frustration. Just the thought of the vile man touching her creamy white skin sent him into a rage.

A sound alongside his tent pulled Michael from his seething anger. He sat up, slipped the d
agger
from under his pillow and blew out the candle. Silently he stood and crept toward the opening of the tent. Fingers, visible from the moonlight streaming in, curled through the opening and grasped the edge of the flap, pulling it slightly open. Michael eyed the slim
,
long feminine digits. A moment later he was speechless. The flap fully opened, revealed a wide-eyed Elena. Then just as quickly, she stepped inside, the flap closed and they were encased in darkness.

“Elena,” he gasped.

“
Shh
…” She placed a finger on his lips.

He grasped her hand, then slid his grip up her arm and pulled her toward him. She slipped her arms around his waist, and laid her head against his bare chest. She stiffened a moment, perhaps realizing he was half naked, and then pressed her cheek against him again. He touched his lips to top of her head, and finding the fabric of her headdress a disturbing barrier, pulled it from her head and let his lips
skim her silky hair.

“I snuck in here. The guards don’t know I’ve left my tent, and my ladies are sworn to secrecy.” Her whispered words came fast. Her fingers stroked his back.

“That was very dangerous, Elena. If anyone were to catch—” He couldn’t finish his words. Tension struck him deeply and he glanced about the empty tent as if Kent’s men would storm them at any moment.

“No one will find me.” Soft, warm, hesitant lips brushed against his chest over his heart.

Michael sucked in his breath. Prickled flesh rose along his arms and chest. He trailed his fingers along her jaw and lifted her chin toward his face. Although he could only make out the shadowy figure of her form, her eyes glinted in what little light surrounded them. He couldn’t take it any longer, he had to kiss her, taste her. Their eyes met, her lips parted slightly as she flicked her tongue over her lower lip, before disappearing.

“Forgive me,” he whispered.

There was a hitch in her breath, she bit her lip. He lowered his lips and brushed them against hers. She tilted her
head,
lips pressed warmly against his and sighed. The first true sound of contentment, peace he’d heard from her since seeing her first that afternoon. Her breath held a hint of mint as it caressed his cheek. How long had he been waiting for this moment? It felt like a lifetime and maybe it had been. He’d been in love with her since he was a boy, planned to marry her since then, and the day
they’d pledged themselves to each other w
as the day she’d been torn away.

He didn’t want to let her go, couldn’t now. His fingers found the small of her back and he kneaded her tense muscles until she relaxed, and then with gentle pressure tucked her against him. Her body melted to his. Her tension seemed to disappear and with it, his own anger and frustration. It was just the two of them. The world flowed away. No Kent, no
tournament, no England.
Just Elena, Michael and this kiss.

He fought the urge to lift her up and take her to his bed. Instead he held her close, kneaded her back,
stroked
her arms. He would let her lead the way. She parted her lips ever so slightly. As urgently as he wanted to thrust his tongue inside and claim what she offered, he resisted. Instead he teased her with his lips, kissing her over and over, until he felt like his head was swimming. It was she who tentatively teased the corner of his mouth with her tongue. And just like that he was lost.

Michael swept her into the air, but didn’t go anywhere. Instead he held against him, legs bent over one arm and back held in the other. Her arms slipped around his neck. He licked the seam of her lips, nibbled on her flesh, and stuck his face in her hair
,
breathing deeply of her essence.
’Twas a dream, it had to be. But he was wide awake.

Michael
kissed her neck up to her jaw line, and then met his mouth with hers again. This time she eagerly opened for him, tasting him. Their tongues danced like two swords sparring. He was dizzy with desire, shook with need, but still he stood there, holding her.

“Elena,” he murmured against her mouth. He couldn’t say more, although he desperately wanted to tell her how much he loved her. The words wouldn’t come, and so he kissed her some more, hoping that his adoration for her spoke louder in his actions than his lack of words.

*****

Despite the danger lurking all around them, for the first time in years, Elena felt safe tucked inside Michael’s arms. Together they could conquer the world.

She was warm, her limbs, every inch of her sang with exhilaration. This kiss was different than any kiss she’d experienced with Michael. Their connection was deep and soul-wrenching. Almost like a thousand fairies rained magical dust on them, sparks seemed to fly through the very air.

Michael’s skin was warm, muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as she ran them over his shoulders. She pulled the leather thong from his hair and laced her fingers through its softness. He was
all
raw maleness. Sensuality like she’d never known.

He held her tight against him, like she was weightless. How could it be that at the same time his mouth crushed to hers with a fierce intensity, he also kissed her with a delicate softness? Her mind reeled. He let her lead the way, set the pace. The power he gave her made her feel that much more comfortable. She wished this kiss would go on forever. Never before had she dreamed the melding of lips could be like this. As though the time apart had left them both with an urgent, desperate need, and each of them delighted in the connection so long missed.

Kent’s kisses were rough, repelling. With Michael it was tender, wonderful
,
but it was also deeply sensual.

A turning point was taking place. Something they would never come back from.

So much emotion flowed from them both as they nibbled, sucked and stroked at each other’s mouths.

Sinful it
was,
how her body reacted to him. She was a wanton.
An adulteress.
Or was she? She’d pledged herself to Michael and
he
alone. Her marriage to Kent was a farce in her eyes.

Her nipples hardened, pressing painfully against her tight stays. Between her thighs was warm, wet,
flooded.
Was something wrong? How could she feel so delicious, so beautiful,
sensual
? This couldn’t be right.

But it felt right and good. Every part of her sang for something more, but what? How much better could it get?

Lord how she wished she could declare her love for Michael and have him sweep her away. She’d give anything—even her soul, however blasphemous it was—to spend her life with him.

Even if it cost her an eternity in purgatory.

Chapter
Five

“I
have to get you back to your tent, my love.” Michael settled her back on the ground, his jaw muscles clenching fiercely. Returning her to Kent was the last thing he wanted to do.

In the shadows he saw her head bow as she nodded. “
Aye
, I have tarried too long already
. B
ut you mustn’t come with me. I must return on my own.”

“If
’
tis all the same to you, Elena, I would see you safely returned.” He let his determination shine through his voice.

She
laughed
,
the sound enchanting
. “You are still the same.
A true gentleman.
I would be pleased for you to accompany me, but you must at least put on a cloak.”

She pulled her hood over her head, and was once again concealed from his vision. Michael grabbed his tunic and threw it on over his head before pulling a cloak around his shoulders, and a hood
over
his head
, pulled low over his brow,
to hide his identity. They left just as quietly as she’d arrived. He followed her quick steps through the spaces made between tents, amongst the shadows, behind tents, through puddles of God only knew what… He preferred to think it was simply water, even though it hadn’t rained in a week—and the stench was a clear indicator.

Suddenly, a boisterous trio stumbled into their path.

“Ye want to wager? The bear’s in a fighting mood. Dogs will never win,” one shouted.

“No
,
thank you,” Michael replied.

“
Whatsa
matter?
Ye look like ye’ve got the coin. Pay up!”

Michael grasped Elena’s wrist and yanked her between two tents. He covered her from head to foot with his cape,
tucking her against him.

He kept the trio at bay with a few choice words
—not wanting to bring too much attention to them. The drunken group grumbled, but then
muddled along.

Once Michael was sure they were alone, he nodded to Elena. They
continued their trek through the tents, until she stopped before one set slightly aside from the others, larger, but other than that, held no discriminating features like the flags set on posts near Kent’s.

“This is yours?” he whispered.

She nodded and answered in hushed tones, “I do not like to be noticed.”

He would always notice her, not matter what. He reached out, stroked his fingers down her cheek and smiled. He glanced around.
Not a soul in sight
.

“One last kiss?”

Elena leaned up to give Michael a swift kiss, fighting against her desire to linger. His lips were so soft and warm.
His taste intoxicating.
In the shadow of the night, only the moon and stars lit their surroundings. A soft breeze blew chilly summer air, carrying with it the scents of the tournament. Some sweet, some foul.

She pulled back suddenly from his kiss—she’d allowed herself to become carried away once more. His dazed eyes met hers. She took the opportunity in his befuddlement to shove him away—lest she lose her nerve and cling to him all night. He barely
wave
red. She needed to move fast before he could stop her.

“Elena?”

She ignored his question, whirled around, lifted the tent’s side and ducked underneath.

“Wait,” he hissed, but she was already inside the tent.

He s
igh
ed
with exasperation fr
om outside, and then she heard the soft squ
ish of his boots on the soggy ground as he walked away. She breathed a little easier knowing he’d left
and she’d see him on the morrow—when God willing
,
he won the tournament.

Crouching low, Elena took in the diml
y lit surroundings of her tent
—and attempted to decipher if her husband was within. Regret and skittish nerves made her shaky. She hadn’t wanted Michael to escort her back, preferring to go alone and quietly
,
just as she’d come, but he wouldn’t hear of it. There was no use arguing
with him,
he wouldn’t bend.

Secretly she was relieved, for there had been much drinking going on amongst the people and she wasn’t sure she was a match tonight for groping hands.
’
Twas nice to have someone to protect her for once.
In fact, she quite liked it. And that fact unnerved her. She’d grown so used to always being on her guard.
Always having to defend herself and her ladies.
But Michael had completely taken down her defenses—one stone and weapon at a time.

With their steamy kiss and the emotional onslaught that came with it, her muscles were like dough, and her mind completely without sense. Again she wished she’d been dealt a different hand in life. She’d take being poor, a peasant, if it meant she could be with Michael.

Even with Michael for escort
,
they’d nearly been caught by that disparate crew of gamblers. Dear Lord Almighty, if someone had recognized her… She almost fainted at the thought. Her mind had not been her own when she’d begged her women to let her go to
Michael
. She’d been witless, but she’d do it again in a heartbeat to feel his arms around her again—to feel just one shred of the love and protection he’d bestowed on her.

She’d entered her tent behind the stacks of chests and barrels holding their supplies. There appeared to be no conversations going on within, but truly her senses continued to be in complete uproar. Still crouching, she moved to the end of the pile, her fingers sliding along the wooden chests
and barrels for balance. She
squelched a
cry when a small splinter sliced into her littlest finger. S
ticking her finger in her mouth, she wondered how a small injury could afford her such a sharp sting
. With a prayer
,
she peered around the corner, relieved to see her ladies all there, alert, wide eyed—and no one else.

Raelyn
jumped at the sight of her and rushed forward, pulling Elena to her feet.

“My lady, you gave us a fright! We had no idea who’d snuck in here. You’re lucky we did not call the guards.”

She
deserved
Raelyn’s
chiding, even if it was not her
maid’s
place.
Elena
was putting all of them in jeopardy with her behavior.

Suddenly, they all whirled toward the entrance to the tent.
Raelyn
held her fingers to her lips.

Then Elena followed the worried gesture by lifting her own hands to her mouth. Outside the tent she could hear the voices of her guards speaking to someone. Her head began to spin, her stomach tightened into knots. Had they caught Michael?

The voice grew a little louder. She was relieved it was not Michael, but a new type of fear stole over her.
The
someone
was her husband.

“How long has he been out there?” she
whispered
to her maid. Had he tried to come in while she was gone? Dear God, what had she done!

“Not long,” she said softly
.

Knowing he had not been outside the tent long reassured her that her maids were
safe,
and that she was too, but all the same, his presence sent a chilling fear down her spine. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. Her eyes glued to the closed opening. What a flimsy barrier to the outside world. Whoever wanted to gain entrance could if they just got past her guards—or they could sneak in the back as she had. Little good the guards did her anyway. They were her
husband’s men, if
he
wanted in, they’d let him without a second thought.

While Elena stared at the opening, praying her husband would just go away, her ladies worked quickly around her.
Raelyn
slipped Elena’s cloak from her body and tossed it to Olivia who tucked it quietly into a trunk. The ladies scurried around her to undo her hair, warm her limbs, and gather her night clothes, as she should have been abed or at least readied for it by now. She prayed to the Lord above, her husband didn’t wish admittance tonight. He only visited her on scheduled days, and tonight wasn’t one of them. But there had been a lot of drinking, he could have forgotten the day if he was deep in his cups. She shivered, her stomach plummeting. Perhaps he had noticed the way she and Michael reacted to one another.

The entire day’s events passed through her mind. She ticked off moment by moment what happened, what her husband could have misconstrued.

“Wine,” she whispered. An already poured glass was pressed into her hands. Her ladies knew her well. Should her husband ever visit her, she drank a glass of dark
,
strong wine to steel her nerves. She gulped the tangy liquid, feelings its warmth weave through her bones.

But then miracle of miracles, his voice faded away, and a motion from one of her other maids’ told her he had left. A collective sigh was met around the room, relief obvious in them all. She’d have to be more careful were she to sneak away again…perhaps if at all. Her hands shook.
Would probably be best to not ever repeat it.
She didn’t think she could handle the repercussions, even if Michael’s kisses made th
e world disappear for a moment, giving her hope.

The way
Raelyn
and her other maids’ hands shook as they finished undressing her and preparing her for bed, belied how they truly felt. She couldn’t put them through this again. Not unless she carefully planned it. No, even then it
was too much of a danger. Risking her maids
’
safety wasn’t part of her plan.

Her visit to Michael could have meant the lives of her ladies, her own life, and Michael’s. Kent would have strung him up, drawn and quartered him, emptied his bowels, castrated him and then had his limbs fed to the wolves.

As her ladies bathed her hands in warm lemon water she recalled her fleeting moments with Michael. Too much time had passed since last she’d seen him. She closed her eyes for a moment, pretending she wasn’t here in this tent, but somewhere else, Ireland perhaps, lying on
a bed of heather with Michael re
clined beside her.

Forgive me...
he’d said the words and she’d thought he meant for kissing her, but there was so much more lurking behind his words, behind his eyes. She wasn’t the only one haunted by demons. Could there have been more to his words? What exactly did he want her to forgive him for? If anything, she should be asking him for forgiveness. He was putting his life and body on the line to protect her. She’d not had the strength to run from her father, from Kent that day so many years ago.

How would she ever thank him now, for coming to her when she’d not the power to escape? All the kisses in the world would never be enough. She climbed under her fur blankets, pulling them up to her chin. The
sounds of her ladies settling in was
soothing. She felt protected in their midst. They soon quieted, and the candles were blown out.

In the darkness, she touched her lips, still swollen and sensitive from Michael’s kisses. Her hands still held traces of his musky scent…pine, cloves, horseflesh. She breathed deeply.

As much as she regretted instilling fear in her companions, seeing Michael had been worth it in the end, even if she could never do so again. She would pray fervently for forgiveness during morning mass. Then she’d pray and
offer up a lifetime of tithes for his victory.

She couldn’t be sure if he’d win on the morrow, only God knew that. If Michael did not succeed, she would be lost for life, but at least she’d have tonight in her memory forever.

*****

Arthur stepped from the shadows. A satisfied grin played across his lips.

Now Black Knight would
have
to give him a place amongst his servants, for Arthur held his secrets in his own dirty little hands.

Cool night air seeped into his tunic causing him to shiver. He rubbed his sticky hands together to warm them. The night air had certainly turned chilly. What a bit of luck it was he’d decided to sneak between the tents to find a warm place to sleep, else he wouldn’t have happened on the knight and the lady.

He’d had to blink a hundred times before he believed what he
was seeing as the Black Knight
kissed the
c
ountess.
Looked to be more than an impulsive kiss
,
too.
More like the kiss of lovers. How long had they been sneaking around behind the
e
arl’s back? And what a lucky chance that the knight, Sir Devereux, might actually win this tournament and end up closer to his lady love.