A Knight of Temptation (2 page)

Grendell was looming over her, naked. She’d seen naked men—as lady of the castle it was her job to bathe her father ’s important cronies and guests, although she only soaped their backs before the maid took over. It was a courtesy

and as a young unmarried woman she was not expected to fully comply.

Now, as Grendell smiled down at her, she saw how young and strong and handsome he was. He ran his hand along her body, pushing impatiently at her robe. His roughened palm lay heavy upon her thigh, and then slid toward her hip. His own thigh, thick with muscle and rough with manly hairs, pressed between hers. His smiling mouth came down upon her half naked breast, tongue twirling about her peaked nipple.

Melina cried out and awoke.

The next moment she was sitting up, blinking, at the sound of the door banging open and there, filling the doorway, was her bodyguard. He looked fiercesome, ready to protect her against all dangers, but when he saw it was only a sleepy-eyed girl, confusion filled his face.

“Melina?”

Her fair hair spilled over her shoulders, her robe revealing more of her naked body than it was covering.

Dark eyes jerked to hers, holding her gaze for long moments, and then he reached behind him and closed the door.

Quietly.

Melina realised her breathing had quickened. She knew she should tell him to go, but her throat seemed to have thickened and closed over, and she couldn’t utter a single word. He reached down and dragged his tunic up over his head and his naked chest gleamed in the soft light of the dying fire. Her dazed eyes noted strange markings upon his upper arm, a tattoo like a Celtic cross.

And then a heartbeat later he was climbing onto the bed beside her.

Like her dream come true, he reached out and covered her plump breast with his palm. The sensation melted her and Melina made a little sound in her throat.

His lips quirked and he smoothed his hand over her satin skin, before reaching to tweak the tight nipple with his finger and thumb.

“Why . . . ?” she began breathlessly, and couldn’t go on.

“I thought I heard you cry out,” he growled, and then bending his head began to suckle on her breast.

Her hips jerked up from the bed and she would have cried out, but his mouth quickly moved to hers and muffled her shriek.

“You came to save me,” she whispered, when she could speak again.

He quirked a brow at her. “I am your bodyguard, lady. My life is yours and I would stand before you and any danger.”

Her arms slid about his neck and she drew herself close to his face, her lips finding his. He reached behind her, planting his big hands on her buttocks and drawing her closer still, until her bare flesh was pressed to his breeches.

He was swollen and hard against her, and suddenly the ache between her thighs was so powerful she needed to assuage it.

Melina rubbed her body against his like a cat. She slipped one leg from beneath him, hooking it over his narrow waist so that the bulge between his thighs was just where she wanted it. She remembered the maid and the groom, the way he had pushed against her so rhythmically and her gasps and moans of ecstasy.

Was this the way it was done?

“Oh Grendell,” she gasped, as the pressure of his body against her ache began to grow in waves of pleasure.

He was helping. Reaching down to stroke her pussy with his long, gentle fingers, adding to her hot slickness. Her moans were growing loader as she writhed against him, kissing his face blindly, her tongue tasting him j us t as she’d dreamed of night after night.

And then it happened, a wondrous rush of sensation that caught her up and held her fast for ever so long. When she returned to herself he was caressing her face, watching her with an expression in his eyes that was hot and tender all at once, an expression she had not seen there before. Then in a moment it was gone, replaced by his usual smirk.

“I have pleased you, lady?”

Melina swallowed, nodded, not trusting her voice. She reached up to touch the tattoo on his bicep. “This is pretty.”

He chuckled. “Pretty? Lady, this is the mark of a warrior. When I was in the orphanage . . .”

“You were an orphan, Grendell?” Her heart ached for him.

He seemed not to want to answer her, but then he shrugged and said, “I was, but in the orphanage I made friends.

Now there are five of us and although we are not related through blood, we all have the same desire to unite England once more.”

“Unite England? Only Matilda can do that, Grendell, as you well know. Only Matilda and Lord Saunders can help my father keep his lands.”

“
His
lands?” Grendell mocked, as if he knew better.

Melina tried to read his expression.

There was anger and pain, but then he shook his head. “It matters not,” he whispered. “
This
is what matters.”

Slowly he bent his head and began to lathe his tongue over her breasts, one at a time, drawing the peaks into his mouth to suck and tease them. And to Melina’s amazement the pleasure began to bubble away again, the ache returning, just as if she had never satisfied it.

Would it always to be like this?

Would she crave him over and over again with an insatiable hunger?

Frustrated she tried to push him away but when he rolled from her, the first thing she did was climb atop him, thighs straddling his breeches. He lay on his back, watching her with narrowed eyes, his face set in a rigid mask as if he didn’t dare to let his emotions rule. That made her all the more frustrated because Melina’s emotions were very much ruling her.

She put her hands over the massive bulge in his breeches and saw the flicker in his eyes. Was his mouth a little tighter? Were his hands clenched with the need to keep control? Melina knew all about losing control, and suddenly she wanted to have him in her power.

Smiling she began to unfasten the laces, tugging roughly at them in her eagerness to conquer him. The garment opened and his rigid cock sprang out, rearing up toward his belly as if it had a life of its own. Melina’s eyes widened, and then she reached to grasp him, exploring his flesh with wonder.

“But how . . . ?” she gasped.

His hands were clutching the bed linen now, his eyes darkened with pa s s i on. His voice was breathless.

“Have you never seen the animals mating, lady? The stallion and mare?”

Melina shook her head. “I saw a maid and a groom once.” She flushed. “I did not see exactly what they were doing.”

He gave a short laugh. “And you want to know?”

She nodded vigorously. The ache was intense and she went to rise up on her knees, so that she could press his cock against the apex of her thighs and use him as she had a moment ago. But he groaned and caught her about the waist, stopping her so that she was suspended above him, so close and yet unable to move.

“Grendell,” she wailed, writhing. Her body was weeping with her desire, the muscles in her thighs trembling. She felt the head of his cock brush against her and he gave a low groan. “I want you. I-I am in desperate need of you.”

But grimly he held on to her. He even shook his head.

“No, lady. What you ask of me is impossible.”

“You are a servant and I order you!”

She twisted and managed to free herself, falling across his naked chest, her hair in his face. For a moment he was still, as if his control hung in the balance, and then he caught her up and rolled her in the linen, tightly, so she was a prisoner of her own bed.

He stared down at her, breathing heavily. “What you ask is the right of a husband,” he said. “It is for your husband to take your maidenhead, Melina. And as you often remind me, I am not to have that privilege.”

And then he was gone, the door closing behind him, leaving her aching with need and furious with herself and with him.

***

On soft

slippers she

pattered onto the small landing outside her door, and came to a hasty stop.

Grendell had appeared out of the shadows,

rising

up

to

his

full

intimidating size.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “I don’t want you near me ever again.”

“I am your bodyguard, my lady. I am always at your side.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh no, Grendell.

As you reminded me, I am to have a husband and it will b e he who chooses who we have by us. You will have to find another job.”

He let his gaze slide over her, taunting her with memories of their passionate encounter, but she held herself rigid, pretending it meant nothing.
He
meant nothing. “Lord Saunders may wish to employ me in the same capacity,” he said evenly.

“ H e must not!”
I could not trust
myself!

Too late she saw the glint of amusement in his eye, now that he had the reaction from her that he wanted. She swallowed back more hasty words and shrugged

her

shoulders

instead.

“Perhaps he needs a pig herd,” she said.

“Or a muck raker.”

His sensual mouth tightened; she had stung his pride, but he said nothing in reply, only turning and following her down the stone stairs that twisted around and around. Uncomfortably, she could feel him at her back, but she was trying not to panic in her need to get away from him. A maid had fallen here once and broken her neck.

“ I could be a groom,” she heard him speak at last. “I’m good with horses.

And mares. I’m very good with mares.

Especially the ones who need a soothing hand. I know just where to stroke them to calm them down.”

Melina clenched her hands and refused to rise to his bait. Let Grendell have his little joke; soon he would be laughing alone.

“Lady, I will never leave you.”

His voice was tender but she said nothing, refusing to trust him. And then she felt the warm caress of his fingers against her nape. Startled, Melina turned to confront him but as she’d feared she stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her about the waist, hauling her up against him. He stood, gazing

down

into

her

face, the

expression in his eyes intent and possessive. For a moment she could say nothing, o nl y aware of his heat, his strength, and her own frantic longing for him.

“Your tunic is new,” she whispered, enveloped in his spicy scent, “and very fine.” It was emerald green with embroidery about the neckline and the belt was sewn with coloured stones that could not possibly be jewels. Could they? Only lords and wealthy men could afford jewels and Grendell was a mere bodyguard.

He smiled without warmth, a mere twitch of his lips. “I had a need to be very fine tonight, lady.”

Melina shook her head and pulled away, clinging to the wall so as not to fall. “We will be late,” was all she said as she hurried ahead, eager to get away from him and the ever present temptation he held for her.

The great hall was awash with noise and candlelight and delicious smells. A troupe of minstrels had been hired for the occasion and a couple of them were tumbling before the dais where her father sat with Lord Saunders.

Melina shuddered.

As the lady of the castle it had been her task to make Saunders welcome and tend to him in his bath. Seated now, so richly dressed, he appeared every inch a wealthy lord, but in her head she could picture the unpleasant old man whose back she had soaped. Grey hairs had sprouted from his shoulders and his skin was wrinkled with age and he glared at her irritably when she dropped the ball of soap. Melina had been so nervous, longing for some kind word—after all, this was her future husband—but apart from muttering about her clumsiness he’d barely acknowledged her.

How different from Grendell!

Melina forced a smile to her lips, curtseying to Lord Saunders and her father, and then seating herself upon the sumptuously carved chair. They were too deep in conversation to notice her, and it made her sad when she remembered how much her father once loved her. Was he really only interested in her as the price to pay to keep hold of his lands? She clenched her hands in her lap, wondering how she was going to swallow a mouthful of the succulent feast before her.

Suddenly, intensely, she was aware of Grendell.

He was close behind her and as she went to turn, to ask him what he thought he was doing, he leaned over her shoulder and reached for one of the platters. His hands were tanned and scarred with the many injuries he had received since boyhood—his orphaned boyhood—when he must have first learned to be a warrior. And yet there w a s a delicacy to his long fingers, a gentleness in the manner in which he carefully placed the best pieces of meat before her. He took his time, acting as if it was all part of his job as bodyguard to feed her.