Knight of Pleasure
“Do you want to learn how to protect yourself?” Stephen asked.
Green eyes sparking with fire, Isobel raised her sword and said, “Teach me.”
“You should carry a short blade as well,” he instructed as he fended off her attack.
“Why? You think you can knock my sword from my hand?”
“I can. But I will not have to. You will drop it.”
He forced her to step back, and back, and back again. She threw her hands up, sending the sword clattering against the wall
as she tumbled backward.
“I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,” she said, reaching her hand up for him. He took it and sank to his knees beside
her.
“Not true, Isobel,” he said in a harsh whisper. “ ’Tis I who am at your mercy.”
His eyes fixed on her lips, full and parted. The moment their lips touched, fire seared through him. She was kissing him back,
mouth open. Slowly, he lowered his body…
He froze the instant he felt the prick of cold steel against his neck.
“You are right,” Isobel said so close to Stephen’s ear that he could feel her breath, “ ’tis wise to carry a short blade.”
“An impressive debut… Margaret Mallory is a star in the making.”
—Mary Balogh,
New York Times
bestselling author of
At Last Comes Love
“5 Stars! Amazing… The fifteenth century came alive… I swear the turning pages crackled with the friction both characters
put out…
Knight of Desire
is the first in the All the King’s Men series and what a way to start it off.”
“A fast-paced tale of romance and intrigue that will sweep you along and have you rooting for William and his fair Catherine
to fight their way to love at last.”
—Candace Camp,
New York Times
bestselling author of
The Courtship Dance
“4 Stars! Mallory’s debut is impressive. She breathes life into major historical characters… in a dramatic romance.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“A lavish historical romance, evocative and emotionally rich.
Knight of Desire
will transport you.”
—Sophie Jordan,
USA Today
bestselling author of
Sins of a Wicked Duke
“4 Hearts! A breath of fresh air… a fascinating tale, mixing emotionally complex characters with a captivating plot… I really
enjoyed following William and Catherine as they explored their growing feelings for each other.”
“
Knight of Desire
is akin to stepping into another century; Mallory has a grasp of history reminiscent of reading the great Roberta Gellis.”
—Jackie Ivie, author of
A Knight Well Spent
“Stunning! Margaret Mallory writes with a freshness that dazzles.”
—Gerri Russell, author of
Warrior’s Lady
“An amazing debut… I’m looking forward to the next installment of this series.”
—
TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“Medieval romance has a refreshing new voice in Margaret Mallory!”
—Paula Quinn, author of
A Highlander Never Surrenders
“Mallory spins a masterful tale, blending history and passion into a sensuous delight.”
—Sue-Ellen Welfonder,
USA Today
bestselling author of
Seducing a Scottish Bride
“Terrific… strong… Fans will desire more deep historical romances from Ms. Mallory.”
“Margaret Mallory writes with intense passion and beautiful, believable emotion.”
—Lucy Monroe, bestselling author of
Annabelle’s Courtship
“The story sizzles with romance and adventure.”
ALSO BY MARGARET MALLORY
Knight of Desire
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2009 by Peggy L. Brown
Excerpt from
Knight of Passion
copyright © 2009 by Peggy L. Brown
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written
permission of the publisher.
Forever
Hachette Book Group
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New York, NY 10017
Visit our website at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
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www.twitter.com/foreverromance
Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First eBook Edition: December 2009
ISBN: 978-0-446-55854-9
Contents
For my parents, Norman and Audrey Brown, who gave me my love of history, books, and foreign places.
I will be forever grateful to Alex Logan at Grand Central Publishing for plucking
Knight of Pleasure
from the vast sea of manuscripts before her and saying, “Yes, I want this one.” A special thank-you also goes to my agent
and friend, Kevan Lyon, for her faith in me.
When I started my first novel, my favorite librarian (my sister) told me to join Romance Writers of America (RWA). Thanks
to her sage advice, I am part of the generous community of romance writers. I am grateful to the members of my local RWA chapters,
who cheer me on every step of the way; to my critique buddies, who always tell me what they really think; and to the published
authors who were exceedingly kind in their support of my first book,
Knight of Desire.
I beg forgiveness of my friends and family for neglecting them while I wrote this book. (We all know I will do it again.)
My love and thanks go to all of them, especially my husband.
Northumberland, England
1409
W
hich of you brave Knights of the Round Table will fight me?” Isobel called out.
“Me! Choose me! Isobel, choose me!”
Isobel ignored the shouts of the boys jumping up and down around her and rose up on her toes, searching for her brother. Where
was Geoffrey? When she spotted him in the tall grass, she dropped to her heels and sighed. Her brother was gazing at the sky,
a smile on his face, happily talking to himself.
She pointed instead to a frail-looking boy at the back of the circle. “You shall be Gawain.”
The other boys groaned as Gawain stepped forward, dragging his wooden sword behind him.
“Sir Gawain,” Isobel said, giving him a low bow. “I am the evil Black Knight who has captured Queen Guinevere.”
The little boy scrunched up his face. “Why do you not play Queen Gui-, Gui-, Gui-”
“Because I am the Black Knight.” At thirteen, she was the eldest here and got to set the rules.
She glared up at the gray stone walls of Hume Castle. The boys her age were inside, practicing with real swords in the castle’s
bailey yard. ’Twas so unfair! For no cause at all, her father forbade her to go off with the boys—or touch a sword—while they
were at this gathering. She was to sit quietly and keep her gown clean.
She turned back to Gawain and raised her sword. “Will you not fight to save your queen?”
Gawain stood frozen, his eyes round with panic.
Quickly, she leaned down and cupped her hand to the boy’s ear. “The Knight of the Round Table
always
prevails, I promise.”
She did her best to make his clumsy swings look skilled. When that proved hopeless, she jumped about, making faces and acting
the fool. Soon, even Gawain was laughing. She finished with a most worthy death, moaning and clutching her chest before sprawling
full length on the ground.
She lay, sweaty and breathless, listening to the boys’ cheers. The rare sunshine felt good on her face. When a shadow passed
over her, she opened her eyes. She squinted at the tall figure looming over her and groaned. Would Bartholomew Graham not
leave her alone? He plagued her!
“Go away, calf brain,” she said and stuck her tongue out.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows. More ill luck. All the older boys had come out to watch.
“You’ve changed since last summer,” Bartholomew Graham said. He moved his eyes deliberately to her chest.
“ ’Tis a shame you have not.” She batted away the hand he offered and scrambled to her feet. “Or have you ceased to cheat
at games and bully the younger boys?”
“I have a real sword, pretty Isobel,” he said with a wink. “If you’ll go into the wood with me, I’ll let you play with it.”
The older boys guffawed at this witless remark. Praise God, she would marry none of them! Her father would find a young man
as noble and worthy as Galahad for her.
“Isobel!”
The boys’ laughter died as her father’s voice boomed out across the field. Isobel was the apple of her father’s eye, and woe
to any boy caught offending her. Boys, big and small, began slipping away through the field. All save one. Her brother looked
about him as though awakened from a dream.
“Geoffrey, go!” she hissed at him. “It will not help to have you in trouble, as well.”
Isobel waved to her father. Ah, she was in luck. The man lumbering beside him with a gait like a pregnant cow was their host,
Lord Hume. Her father would keep his temper around the old man. All the same, she opened her other hand and let the wooden
sword slip to the ground beside her.
When the men finally reached her, she gave Lord Hume her best curtsy. She wanted to make a good impression, since her father
said Lord Hume could help them regain their lands.
“I am most sorry for your loss,” she said, pleased with herself for remembering the recent death of his wife.
What an old man he was! ’Twas hard to look at him with all that loose skin hanging from his neck and those puffy bags under
his eyes drooping halfway down his cheeks. But he must be wealthy. As wealthy as her father said, to own a jeweled belt that
could reach around that immense belly of his.
“Your daughter is the image of your lovely wife,” Hume said. “And she has spirit enough to keep a man young.”
How often did her father say she would make him old before his time? A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she slid
a look at him, hoping to catch his eye.
“Aye, she is a lively girl,” her father said.
The cheerfulness of his reply gave Isobel hope she might escape a scolding for her swordplay with the boys. While the men
talked on and on about some event that would take place in the autumn, she grew bored and tried not to fidget.
“ ’Tis settled then,” Lord Hume said, taking his leave at last. “You will want to speak to your daughter now.”
Lord Hume took hold of her hand before she could hide it behind her back. She tried not to make a face as he slavered on it.
As soon as his back was turned, though, she wiped it on her gown.
She stood beside her father, waiting to be chastised about swords and dirty gowns. When Hume finally hobbled through the castle
gate, she turned to face her father.
To her amazement, he was hopping from foot to foot, doing a little dance!
“Father, what has happened?”
He picked her up and swung her in a circle. Then he did his little dance again. Seeing him so gloriously happy made her heart
swell with pleasure.
“Tell me, tell me!” she said, laughing.