The Heat of the Knight (4 page)

Nearly dropping her light, she stood frozen to the spot. The bed hangings had been drawn open. Lord Beckett faced the bed. His long fingers were probing deeply between the widely spread legs of a copper-haired women. Another woman was on her hands and knees as Beckett pushed into her from behind.

“'Tisn't fair for Alice to get all the attention,” the redhead whined. Quickly she climbed atop the brunette, duplicating the position of the woman beneath her, her bottom thrust out in the same manner. She rested her face on the other woman's head as her hands wrapped around the woman's breasts. She began tugging on the brunette's nipples.

Their long hair overlapped, red flowing on top of brunette.

Beckett did not seem to find the situation surprising. Instead, his hands clamped on the rounded buttocks of the woman riding atop, and he withdrew his shaft from the first woman. Rocking onto the balls of his feet, he lifted his body, the muscles in his thighs contracting, and accommodated the squirming, eager bottom of the other woman. She responded with a scream of delight as he drove into her pussy.

Christiana was mortified and enthralled all at once. As always, he mesmerized her.

Beckett was the biggest man she had ever known. The muscles of his massive shoulders and arms had been gained through the mastery of weapons. Endless practice with lance, sword, and longbow had built a fearsome physique. And now, she could see that he was of tremendous size everywhere. He pleasured both women with his long, thick, endless strokes. They wriggled with ecstasy against his skillful assault.

Still held thunderstruck, Christiana did not notice that someone else had entered the room until the woman glided up behind Beckett. The woman swung her heavy braid over her shoulder and smiled slyly in Christiana's direction.
Maud.
The serving girl put her hand between his legs and cupped the heavy sacs. He did not startle. His thumb was now servicing the woman on the top while he concentrated his rapidly increasing thrusts on the brunette.

Maud ran the fingers of her free hand in an arc just above his shoulder blades, sweeping his sleek, black hair to one side, exposing the startling, inked etching at the base of his neck. Squinting to get a better view of the symbol, Christiana could make out little but a sword and shield.

Christiana wet her lips. Her nipples hardened as she imagined running her tongue up his neck and along the blue-black stubble defining his strong jaw line.

The whole of the spectacle before her soon drew her attention again. With the cunning smile still playing on her lips, Maud leaned over and nibbled on his exposed nape. The movement caused him to turn his head.

His eyes were hooded and glazed, but Christiana was quite sure he saw her lurking in the shadows. He did not stop pumping his hips, yet his carnal gaze remained riveted on her face.

“Tiana,” he said, the sound guttural, and raw. His body stiffened and he clenched his muscular buttocks tightly and closed his eyes. Christiana took the opportunity to flee the chamber.

* * * *

Finding a deserted passage, Christiana set to pacing. Her whole body was trembling, and it had little to do with the cold. She could not erase the vision of Beckett naked in bed with those women. She kept imagining what it would be like to have his big hands on her, his lips on her bare skin, and his daunting cock plunging deep inside of her.

With hopes of finding Maud asleep, Christiana took a rush light from the castle wall and made her way to the servants' quarters. Or had Maud been allowed to spend the night in Beckett's chamber with the others? The thought of it sickened her. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into her own bed and yank the wool coverlet over her head.

A lone tallow candle lit the long room. There was a smattering of giggles as she hurried to her bed. The wretched Maud had returned and was still awake, sitting on the edge of her bed having her hair braided by her bedmate. Maud's hands flew to her mouth in a false attempt to smother her gleeful cackling.

Christiana refused to let it bother her. She had no intention of staying long as a captive within these stone walls. After tonight, she wanted to be as far away from Beckett as possible.

Stripping down to her chemise, she slid under the scratchy coverlet and curled up on the shabby straw mattress. Something nuzzled at her back. With a gasp, she flew off the bed and flung back the blanket. There in the center was a large brown rat and at least a dozen squirming pink newborns.

“Is something the matter?” Maud called from across the room.

“No, but I think your family is here to visit. Only they ended up in my bed instead of yours.” Christiana tugged on her kirtle, bent down, and scooped up the rats in her blanket.

Maud's thin lips were drawn tight. She glared at Christiana as she walked past her to carry the animals outside.

By the time Christiana returned, the candle had guttered out. She stumbled to her pallet in the dark. The rats she had removed were probably much nicer to share a room with than these women. Now if she could only erase the image of Beckett's sleek, muscular, deliciously naked body from her thoughts, she might manage to get a few hours sleep before she began another jolly day.

Christiana held the basket of eggs above her head as a herd of hounds raced towards the stables. One of the wolfhounds crashed into her legs. She winced as the eggs clicked against each other. “Ill-mannered hound! Heeding the lessons of your master, no doubt,” she called after the dog that hadn't let the collision impede his progress.

She watched with trepidation as a massive figure separated itself from the men assembling the hunting gear.

“'Tis surprising to see you up so early considering you'd had such a busy night,” she said as Beckett approached.

Christiana took a step closer, wanting to absorb some of the heat that emanated from his body. She had a sinfully sweet notion of how glorious it would be to still be abed, snuggling against the warmth of him.

There was the creak of metal and leather as he crossed his arms atop his jack coat.

She could feel rather than see his dark eyes glaring down at her.

She groaned inwardly. Why did she always allow her mouth to override her good sense?

Though he was cast in the predawn shadows and his features were barely discernible, she still avoided looking at him. She was thankful for the darkness as she felt a scarlet blush firing from her throat to her face.

“I didn't imagine it. You were in my room last night.”

“Not by choice,” she retorted. “'Tis vipers you have in your employ, setting me to a task they knew would cause humiliation.”

“So, you've finally had it confirmed for good and all.”

“What?” she asked.

“That I'm a heathenish beast.”

Yes, a supremely skillful, handsome beast, she thought. “As long as your harem appreciates your talents, what does it matter what I think?”

“Well, you never thought much of me anyway,” he said, his voice gruff.

“Once I believed you made of the most heroic stuff. I'm merely amazed to find Colin the warrior and you the hedonist.” She sensed him flinch at her judgmental words.

“That's not to say I don't think you manage your estate wonderfully, and you've no rival in hunting. No man has ever bested you at swordplay. And tilting at the quintain is surely…”

Even in the dark, she could see that his face was getting paler with every new compliment she uttered. He looked nearly bloodless.

“I beg you, no more. I've had my fill of your flattery.”

Barking, the dogs raced past them, hailing a newcomer. Colin greeted Christiana with an endearing smile.

“I thought to join you today, cousin.” Colin made no pretense to stifle a wide yawn.

“I've men enough. Go back to bed,” Beckett said, and headed back to his waiting horse.

Colin shrugged and turned his attention to Christiana. “Odd. My cousin's temper seems to grow shorter whenever you are about.”

Beckett drew his destrier to a quivering halt in front of them, and his companions followed suit. The horses stamped impatiently, their breath steaming white. Curiously, the dogs had not been leashed. Christiana had never known a hunting party to ride out from the castle walls unaccompanied by hounds. With apprehension, she turned to Colin, but he'd left her side and was walking toward the dairy.

She glanced back at the party of brutish men outfitted with weaponry enough for a small war. A scarred and scowling man at Beckett's side offered her what she supposed was meant as a seductive smile. His bared teeth only served to make him appear more menacing. Arnulph, the man who'd seen to her welfare when she'd first arrived, was among the group. His visage, with the single gleaming orb and the lid pulled taut over the hollow socket of the other eye, added to the fearful impression. She couldn't help thinking that it was Beckett and his men that looked the battle-hardened soldiers and not Colin.

“Stay out of trouble,” Beckett said in parting, nearly growling the demand.

* * * *

Using the damp stone wall for support, Christiana trudged up the narrow, spiraling stairwell. Each step seemed steeper than the last, and each corner led to deeper shadows.

The chill air, like the breaths of ghosts, lifted goose bumps on her skin. The sickly yellow light of the candle she carried did nothing to dispel the gloom. No wonder Maud had not clamored for this duty as she had every other one assigned to Christiana. It did not matter if Christiana was delivering the slop to the swine, or on her hands and knees scrubbing treacle from the floor, sly-eyed Maud would shrilly proclaim that the master was favoring Christiana.

Yes, quite the choice task she would be facing today. She expected to find the furnishings and tapestries dust encrusted. How many years, she wondered, had it been since the uppermost chambers of this tower had been occupied?

At the landing, Christiana stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Finding the room unlocked, she pulled open the massive wooden door and stepped inside. The rushes on the floor smelled stale, but there was only a light sprinkling of dust on the furnishings.

She blew the dust off a chest of drawers and set the fresh linens atop it. Spots of colored light dotted the brocaded bedclothes. How the cousins had delighted in showing her the stained glass dragon for the first time, with his talons and teeth dripping blood. She could see now why the expensive piece of glass had been relegated to a rarely used chamber.

There was something sinister in the beast's depiction. Panes of the glass were missing.

The dragon had only three feet now and a single wing. A frigid wind whistled through the window's empty spaces.

Christina peered through the hole, her gaze honing in on the stables. She'd heard talk in the kitchen that Lord Dareford was expected home today. He would surely have a ravenous appetite for his women once he returned from his hunting trip. How many feverish nights had she spent imagining her thighs spread sinfully wide as she enjoyed Lord Dareford's skills?

A blast of cold air hit her, and she turned to find that the heavy door had swung shut.

As she walked toward it, she heard a telltale cackle as the key turned in the lock.

Apparently, her newfound friend was at it again. Christiana tried the latch while throwing her weight against the door. Useless, as she'd expected. She hammered her fists against the unforgiving wood and screamed for help, then instantly regretted giving Maud the satisfaction.

How long, she wondered, until someone missed an insignificant serving girl? It might be months before anyone came up here again.

She was being maudlin. Obviously Beckett's fastidious housekeeper had had someone up here to clean mere weeks ago. Involuntarily, her teeth chattered at the thought of spending a night alone with only the dragon for company. Placing her mouth to the hole in the window, she shouted down to the courtyard, but her cries for help were like vapors rising to the sky.

With a wish to ignore her predicament, she went about her business of replacing the linens. She pulled back the quilted coverlet. A musty smell greeted her. She replaced the yellowing sheets with the fresh lilac scented ones. Finding a broom propped in the corner of the room beside the chamber pot, she beat the dust from the ancient tapestries and bed curtains. Attacking the cobwebs lining the walls eventually wearied her arms. Unhappily, her frenzied activity had only produced a clammy sweat that made her shiver all the more in the frigid room.

From her apron, Christiana pulled cleaning rags, stuffed them into the gaps in the window, and took refuge under the heavy coverlet.

* * * *

Two days later, not a mote of dust remained on the furnishings, and Christiana was ready to pull her hair out from boredom, not to mention her terrible thirst and pangs of hunger.

Excitable shouting filtered up to her from the courtyard. She moved back to the window and pressed her cheek against the cold glass. Beckett and his men had returned.

It looked as if they had little game to show for their trip. From here she could see there was only a brace of small animals. Had all that manpower not felled a single stag? What exactly had they been chasing? Wicked pleasures of all sorts, she was sure. Christiana was surprised at how easily Beckett had slid into the role of a dissolute aristocrat.

Tears threatened as she recalled his fierce black eyes glittering in the sunlight as he carried his knight's banner for the first time. The tears tumbled as she remembered how he'd saved her life, throwing himself off the horse to create a flesh and blood barrier between her and the charging boar. The sound of his leg bone snapping still haunted her.

By the grace of God, his leg had healed straight, though she often spied him rubbing away an ache.

Christiana could pick out his massive frame even amongst the hulking men he'd traveled with. Would he notice her missing?
'Twas a notion born of wishful thinking.
No doubt he had at least two willing companions lolling in his bed, eager to do his bidding.

An idea popped into Christiana's head. After throwing the heavy coverlet aside, she gathered up the linens and began tying the freshly laundered to the stale ones.