Knightless in Seattle (4 page)

As she contemplated the bloodthirsty nature of that
demand, Lance looked up, finding her in the crowd. Fierce triumph
blazed in his eyes as he nodded at her, an unmistakable promise to
claim his prize. To claim her.

Jackie's breath caught in her throat. She felt the heat of his
gaze stroking her as surely as his hands on her skin. And she was
acutely aware of exactly how much skin was exposed to his gaze in
her dress, the tightly laced corset plumping her breasts in blatant
invitation.

She fanned herself, sure that her breasts must be heaving.
How trite,
a small, annoying part of her mind thought, even as
another, much more insistent part overrode that with,
Oh. My.
God
. She had clearly never considered the hotness-factor of her
hero emerging the victor of a life or death battle.

Horns again blared in announcement from the end of the
arena, breaking the spell. Jackie's eyes were drawn to the royal
platform, where the current King and Queen rose and stepped
forward.

"What is your decision, Sir Lancelot?" called the King. "It is
for you to declare death or show mercy."

Lance stepped back from his opponent, releasing the man's
sword arm. "Vanquishing my foe in fair battle is victory enough, your
majesty," he said, and sheathed his sword. "I grant him his life."

"As you will." The King nodded. "Squire," he bellowed, "see
to Sir Reggie."

A wiry young man dressed in a simple version of Sir Reggie's
red and gold livery rushed onto the field toward his master. He
bumped into Lance as he passed him.

A wicked looking dagger dropped onto the sand at Lance's
feet.

A chorus of gasps rose from the spectators, followed by cries
of outrage.

"Foul! I cry foul!" shouted Sir Reggie, who scrambled to his
feet and pointed at the dagger. "It is illegal to carry such blades in
this round. He must forfeit the match."

Lance bent to retrieve the knife. He flipped it in his hand,
frowning as he examined the hilt. "This is not mine."

Jackie's vision went red, actually red. She had never felt so
angry in her life. "I'll bet I know exactly whose it is," she growled
under her breath.

Sir Reggie strutted in a circle around Lance. "It matters not
whose blade it is," he shouted, as if inviting the crowd's judgment. "It
matters only that he carried it."

Unable to contain herself, Jackie leaped to her feet, gripping
the rail. "Lance's squire did it!" she shouted. "I saw him with the
daggers when he came to get Lance, er, Sir Lancelot, ready. He said
he needed them."

Comments and catcalls answered her, and soon bitter
arguments broke out among the spectators. Shouts and accusations
erupted from rival factions, until the sound was almost
deafening.

"Peace!" shouted the king, in an attempt to calm the crowd.
When the noise died to a mutter, he called, "Those on the field,
approach, and we will judge."

Lance and Sir Reggie strode stiffly across the arena and
halted before the King and Queen. They stood well apart, Lance
stonily calm while Sir Reggie cast angry sidelong glances at him.

Lance, his temporary squire and Sir Reggie stepped forward
in turn to confer with the King, the Queen and a couple of elaborately
costumed people Jackie assumed were judges. Each combatant was
obviously given the chance to tell his side of the story. Lance stood
straight and calm as he spoke, while Sir Reggie punctuated his
speech with a lot of arm-waving and finger pointing.

At this distance Jackie couldn't hear what was said. She
could only watch, stomach knotted.

Finally the freckle-face squire was asked to step forward. At
first he faced the King and the noble judges with his arms crossed
and chin raised in defiance. But after only a few questions, he
seemed to lose his bravado, and looked at Sir Reggie uncertainly. At
one last question, his shoulders slumped and he hung his head.

His mumbled answer caused Sir Reggie to jump back, loudly
protesting.

The King, the Queen and the two noblemen all looked very
serious, but there was clearly no disagreement among them.

An expectant hush fell as the King stepped forward to the
front of the platform, and struck a commanding pose. "Hear our
decision, for it is final." His voice reached every corner of the
arena.

Jackie could begin to see why he had ended up as King of
this game.

"We find that the dagger in question was, secretly and with
malice--" Here he turned a stern look on Sir Reggie and his squire.
"--placed on Sir Lancelot's person by Sir Reggie and his agents, in a
deliberate attempt to tamper with the outcome of the battle.
Therefore, we declare that Sir Lancelot remains the winner, having
done his part to fairly best his opponent in battle under the terms of
these games."

Wild cheers, accompanied by foot stomping, erupted from
everyone in the arena. The rickety wooden stands shook so hard
Jackie feared they would collapse. While she appreciated the
sentiment, she couldn't hear the King, who was still attempting to
talk over the noise.

"Hey! Everyone be quiet!" She turned to shout at the people
behind her who were cheering and hugging each other. "The King is
still talking."

She might as well have been screaming into a gale-force
wind for all the effect her words had. Determined not to miss
anything the King still had to say about Lance, she threw politeness
to the wind and resorted to the only thing she knew that never failed
to get the attention she needed. Sticking two fingers in her mouth,
she gave the whistle her cousin Kenny had spent the better part of a
summer teaching her to master.

Silence fell. She was suddenly the center of attention.

"Hey!"

"What was that for?"

"Who did that?"

Jackie didn't waste her breath on apologies. She pointed
mutely at the King, who now waited silently. At this distance she
couldn't be sure, but she would swear he was smiling at her.

"We also declare Sir Reggie is from here on stripped of his
title and power. Guards, escort him from the arena!"

A murmur rippled through the crowd as two guards stepped
down off the platform to flank Sir Reggie and walk him off the field.
Lance remained standing alone before the platform.

The King addressed the crowd one last time. "I give you Sir
Lancelot, the winner of this match!" he shouted. "The house of
Greeve shall now become the ruling house of this game and its
ranking lord shall become your new King."

Spectators cheered and whistled, waving colorful hats and
pennants. Shouts of "Huzzah! Huzzah!" rang from one end of the
stands to the other.

Lance bowed solemnly to the King and Queen, and then to
the crowd. He turned and began to walk the length of the arena. He
waved and smiled as the sun gleamed like a benediction on his
armor and lit his hair with gold fire.

That was all Jackie had time to notice, because suddenly
Lance was there, standing directly in front of her.

"My lady." he said, and bowed low. Straightening, he
reached into his shirt to draw out a lacy white glove. "I have
something to thank you for."

Jackie opened her mouth, but before she could speak a
sudden sharp pain made her yelp. Lady Nima had stepped hard on
her foot and slid neatly in front of her to commandeer the rail. Jackie
was left with no option but to hop out of the way and glare at Nima's
back.

"Sir Lancelot," the noblewoman cooed as she reached for
Lance's hand. Leaning over the railing, she must have given him an
eyeful of what her plunging neckline was designed to expose. "I have
never seen you so masterful, so powerful. And so treacherously,
falsely accused. You quite took my breath away." She gave a little
giggle that would probably qualify as a titter if ever Jackie had heard
one.

Unbelievable
.
If she giggles any harder her boobs
are going to fall right out of her--

"Thank you, Lady Nima, for your dedicated patronage,"
Lance said, with a polite smile. Jackie couldn't help but notice that his
eyes never wandered south of the woman's face, and he dropped her
fingers after the briefest squeeze. "But I must speak with your
handmaiden, Jacqueline."

He reached past Lady Nima to extend his hand to Jackie,
who had been reduced to staring somewhat stupidly at the whole
interaction, while she wondered whether being an "extra" meant she
could tell this pushy bitch to back off and get out of the way.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she took Lance's hand,
allowing him to pull her forward to the rail. His eyes smoldered blue
fire as he touched his mouth gently to each of her knuckles and
finally pressing a kiss to her upturned palm.

It might have looked like just a kiss to everyone else, but it
felt like a whole explosion of fireworks in her head.

"I think I could really get into this LARP thing," she
breathed.

Lance smiled up at her, and slowly slid the glove over her
hand and up her arm.

The glint in his eye sent a shiver down Jackie's spine, and all
the way to her toes.

"Believe me, this has nothing to do with fantasy," he
murmured. "You and I are getting out of here as soon as possible. I
only have one more day in Seattle and I'm not wasting another
minute."

* * * *

"The first thing is just to get used to the way it feels in your
hand."

"Are you sure this is safe?" Jackie hated that she was being
such a baby about this. "I'm not really sure how to handle one of
these things."

Lance's warm breath tickled the back of her neck as he
reached around to close his fingers over her fist. "Trust me."

"Hmph. Like I haven't heard that before." Jackie stared
doubtfully at the eight inch dagger in her hand. How in the world
was she supposed to focus and keep from seriously hurting herself
with the wickedly sharp blade while her senses were completely
swamped by the man who was currently pressed close behind her,
shoulder, thigh, the backs of her knees?

They were in the living room area of Lance's hotel suite in
downtown Seattle, where they had ended up in less time than she
could have believed possible after he whisked her away from the
LARP event. They'd dropped her car at her place, before making a
drive-by to meet up with a bunch of the players for what she
supposed was the after-party. They stayed long enough to sip the
foam off one beer, and then made a bee-line to Lance's hotel where
they had been holed up ever since.

The desk and chairs were pushed to the walls, to give them
room to practice. For the previous hour, Lance had put her through a
strenuous workout until she mastered the self-defense move she had
asked him to teach her. Now they were doing what he called "a little
blade work."

Between lunging, parrying and the grueling repetition of
critical moves, they had traded bits of life-stories, covering the basics
and more. Jackie found herself completely at ease with Lance, who
disposed of pretense with warmth, honesty and total acceptance. He
was smart, funny and ferociously energetic.

As much as she appreciated the lessons, every passing
minute she spent with the man only increased her attraction to him.
It wasn't just his amazing body, or the impressive strength and
controlled power of his movements while he had been teaching
her.

It was the hunger burning in his eyes that made every
glance feel like a touch, every touch tingle like a zap of electricity.
Her nerve endings were sparking like loose power lines in a high
wind. Her whole body hummed with the steadily building tension.
She wanted him.

Bad.

Bad enough that she was willing to settle for what she could
get with him, even if it was only one night. She was pretty sure he
wanted her, too. When was he going to kiss her, for God's sake?

Outside, rain drifted through the darkened Seattle streets,
its faint patter on the windows setting a cozy music to the evening
and making the room into a warm safe cocoon for the two of
them.

Heat radiated from Lance's body, and the scent of clean,
warm, and intently focused man enveloped Jackie, bringing a definite
wobble to her knees that had nothing to do with the previous
workout.

She swallowed hard, and closed her eyes to try to gather her
wandering attention. "Okay, fine, Mr. Ninja Knight. Show me what
I'm supposed to do."

She felt him shift his weight from foot to foot behind her, as
his fingers tightened over hers on the dagger's handle.

"Slide your hand up a bit so your fingers are snug on the
underside of the guard. It protects you from your opponent's
weapon and keeps you from cutting yourself on your own
blade."

Jackie let him adjust her hold until her fingers bumped the
underside of the little dome-like shield-thing that circled the base of
the blade.

"Kind of like a little safety feature," she said, while eyeing
the dagger uneasily. "I get that." It still looked plenty dangerous. She
didn't know how much good a narrow hand guard was going do
when she was handling what looked like a machete to her.

"You're doing great," he murmured into her hair. His voice
slid like silk over her senses and made her want to throw the stupid
knife into the wall, grab him and have her way with him
right
now
.

She sighed. "Okay, so let's do this. I'm about as ready as I'm
gonna be." Plus, the sooner they were done with the martial arts
lesson, the sooner they could get on to other, more interesting,
activities.

He put his mouth against the back of her neck. "Planning on
using it against me?" His voice vibrated against her skin, followed by
the feel of his firm, moist lips as he trailed a line of kisses along the
side of her neck. Tingles exploded all the way down to her toes.

Jackie shivered and swallowed hard, fighting for control as a
haze of need swamped her vision. "Should I?" Her voice sounded
husky in her own ears.