A Knight to Desire (26 page)

It was Simon's voice, but something was different. His voice vibrated with an unusual sound of eagerness and laughter. She opened her eyes. His face was different, too. He was laughing down at her, his eyes alight with a newfound joy she had never seen there before. In the moments between sleeping and waking, something had changed within him. Something that had been taken from him long ago had been returned.

"The rain has stopped. We must keep going if we are to make it to Pennyghael Abbey as planned."

She was naked beneath the cloak he'd spread over them last night. He was as gloriously naked as he had been when they'd made love. Early morning light filtered through the opening of their shelter, bathing Simon in a peach-colored glow that glinted in the darkness of his hair and turned his skin to a warm bronze. "You seem eager to go into battle when you are not even clothed yet."

He smiled. "I can dress faster than you can." He leaned down and kissed her with infinite sweetness. "And it's not the battle ahead that woke me from my dreams. It was you. I have never been this happy, Brianna." He pulled her into a sitting position. "But we must also remain vigilant. Complacency has injured many a knight."

She instantly sobered. "Do you think de la Roche is out there even now, watching us?"

The smile did not leave Simon's eyes as he lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her re-bandaged palm. "He's out there somewhere, of that we can be certain. Because of that, I want you to do something for me." He released her hand and turned to the saddlebag he'd set near the shelter's opening. He fumbled around inside the bag before he withdrew the Grail and handed the vessel to her. "I want you to carry this with you."

"The Grail?" She gently touched the satiny smoothness of the ancient cup. She frowned as the morning light gilded the artifact, turning it silver, then gold. She felt captured by the Grail's ever-changing color. "It appears as though it is a humble vessel one moment, then a glorious treasure the next. Do you see the same thing?"

"Aye, perhaps because it was the cup of a carpenter and a king." He shrugged. "All I know is that I am grateful it healed you and Bella and so many of my men." He placed his hand over hers against the cup. "I want you to carry it."

"Because of my dream?"

He kissed her again, quick and hard. "I want you to carry the Grail because I trust you to keep it safe."

The vessel warmed beneath their joined hands, filling her with a sense of peace and hope that they would not only triumph over de la Roche, but they would return the Grail and Joyeuse to the Templar treasure hold, keeping them safe for all time. "How close are we to Pennyghael?"

"I'm not certain. Maybe a day's journey until we get through these foothills. Another half day across the open land."

They were close. So very close to either success or failure. "Then that leaves us only half a day before de la Roche's army should arrive to scout the location and gather more men." Brianna scooted from beneath the cloak he'd laid over them. "We must get started if we are to have the best advantage in this battle."

He smiled mischievously. "Not just yet," he pulled her to him until the warmth of his breath brushed her ear and his arms formed a deliciously secure haven around her. "We have time for this." His teeth gently nibbled at the lobe of her ear.

A tingle of heat ran through her. "What about vigilance?"

His hands cupped her breasts. "As I said before, we need to enjoy the moments between now and then." His thumb and forefinger plucked at her sensitive nipples. "Do we have an accord?"

An aching fire throbbed between her thighs at his touch. "In all things."

His hand slid down from her taut stomach, then further down to tangle in her soft curls. While his fingertips delicately circled and rubbed, his thumb pressed skillfully against her core. He opened her legs and lifted her into the air, then slowly slid into her, filling her.

"Hold me tight," he said as breathlessly as she felt.

She did and forgot about leaving. She forgot about de la Roche. She forgot about everything except the feel of him. She closed her eyes, arched her head back as she moved up and down, feeling a slow, sensual caress that stoked her desire.

She could feel Simon's heart pounding against her breasts, feel the rising and falling of his chest with each labored breath. He brought her closer with a groan and she could feel the hair surrounding his manhood brush against that most sensitive part of her. He moved beneath her, matching her rhythm, driving deeper.

Brianna clutched at his shoulders, feeling something coiling inside her, wanting to be let out.

Simon arched her against him, bending his mouth to envelop her breast, nipping, suckling, until she sobbed at the exquisite sensations building inside. The sensation was too hot, too hard, too intense to hold on any longer.

She gave herself over to sensation and a savage cry tore from her lips, followed by Simon's, mixing their voices, pleasure, and release.

She collapsed against Simon, her head cradled on his chest, struggling to catch her breath. He cupped the back of her head with one hand, her buttocks with the other and held tight. As soon as she could breathe again, she lifted her head to find him as breathless as she was. He smiled down at her with that same laughter she'd seen earlier. "I think I will enjoy the moments between now and then very much."

He laughed softly. "So will I, my beautiful warrior."

The smile faded from her lips. That was the second time he'd called her beautiful. But she knew the truth. "You do not have to say such things to me, Simon. I need no pretty compliments. My father taught me to be honest about myself."

He stared at her with astonishment in his eyes. "He taught you what?"

"That I'm no beauty."

With a finger beneath her chin, he returned her gaze to his. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

She shook her head, suddenly breathless again at the fire in his eyes as he studied her face, her hair, her body still intimately pressed against his.

He tugged at a lock of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder. "Your hair shimmers in the light when you move your head. In the sunshine, your tresses turn to radiant fire." His finger stroked the curve of her brow. "Eyes so green, they remind me of the velvety hills of Glencoe in the spring. So beautiful." He stroked the side of her cheek with the back of his forefinger. "Your skin is as soft as the down on a bird's wings and it makes me long to touch you every time you draw near." His hands went to her shoulders and slowly caressed their way to her hands. He took both hands in his own and brought them up to his lips. He placed a kiss on the back of each hand. "Your hands, no matter their condition, are an extension of the warmth and honor and grace inside you. Aye, they wield a sword, but not for personal glory, only to aid those in need and to protect those you love."

She could feel tears burning behind her eyes and she quickly closed her lids to hide them. His words touched her, but it was the sincerity in the eyes looking into her own that sent a spiral of joy rippling through her, and the warmth of something else, something special that she did not want to name.

"Open your eyes, Brianna. Look at me."

Her eyes opened to find him smiling down at her.

"When I look at you I see beauty and strength. Your father was mistaken about so many things."

This time she could not stop the tears that came to her eyes. Her throat tightened. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

He gazed at her with surprise and anger and something else… "I need to ask you something that has been weighing on my mind for some time now." He hesitated a moment before he continued. "When I stopped by Rosslyn Castle to find you, your father talked about you as though you were dead. His steward, Judson, was the one who let me know where I might find you." His voice was silky smooth, almost a whisper. "What happened after you returned home from Teba? Your father used to dote on you. That he would say cruel things to you and cut you out of his life makes no sense."

Brianna tried to smile, but found her lips were trembling. Her heart pounded jerkily with a queer sort of panic. "I can't talk about my father. I won't."

Simon nodded. "When you are ready to talk about it, I am here to listen." He leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her cheek with velvet tenderness.

Her throat tightened all the more. Not once during the past several days in Simon's presence had she thought about her father's abandonment. She'd thought only about living life with a purpose once more. The purpose Simon had given back to her. She frowned and brought her gaze back to him. Perhaps she did own him an explanation.

"Perhaps someday I'll tell you what happened between us, but not now."

He nodded and offered her a gentle smile. "We can both focus on the 'between now and then' moments for a while."

"Agreed." The pressure in her chest eased and she leaned her head against Simon's chest once more.

"Rest for a few moments, then we will prepare to ride out." He settled her beside him and drew her into his arms. A breeze that was cool but not chill swirled through their private shelter, touching her cheeks and tugging at her hair, bringing with it the heady scent of greens and rich damp earth. Instead of pain, she suddenly found herself filled with hope — the hope that they would triumph over de la Roche and his army, that she could put her father's anger behind her, and for a future with the man who held her so tightly in his arms — if only her dream of Simon's death did not come true.

Simon!

Brianna's eyes flew open, her heart pounding with terror.

Blood. Simon. Death.

Nay!

Then as she came fully awake, a shudder of relief ran through her. A dream. It was only a dream.

Simon lay cradled to her in the small shelter, breathing the deep, even cadence of sleep. His arms were around her in a loose embrace as she stared into his face. Peaceful. Calm.

Then the image came again. Simon dropping to his knees. De la Roche standing over him, his sword held as to strike. The sword coming down toward his neck…

She drew in a harsh breath. Her dreams did not always come true. She'd only had the dream because she'd been thinking of Simon before she'd slept as well as her father and her brothers. 'Twas her own pain and anger that had no doubt tricked her into this nightmare.

But what if these images were a true vision? What if Simon were to die in such a barbaric manner?

The pain that tore through her was unbearable. She gasped.

Simon's eyes flew open. "Brianna?"

Her trembling hands reached out to touch his face. Warm, vibrant, filled with life.

His gaze filled with concern. "What is it?"

She did not want to speak of it, to give it any hook into either her or his reality. She had to forget the images. Bury them deep inside her.

"Was it another dream?" he asked.

She nestled closer to his warmth. "Aye, but it's gone now."

"By your trembling, I'd say it still lingers. Do you wish to discuss it?"

She nestled deeper into his shoulder. "Nay. The dream is gone."

He chuckled. "Because you willed it so?"

She looked at him then. "Exactly. If I give it no merit, it will never come to pass."

"You dreamed of my death again. Didn't you?"

"Nay," she lied. Destiny could be fought just as any other battle. The things she saw did not necessarily have to happen, not if she were careful. Had she not changed her own fate once before? Her father had sent her to the forest to die. That had not come to pass because she had refused to die. It had been her strength of will that had taken her from the forest and the dangers lurking there, to Abigail and the home they'd shared together.