A Knight Of Desire (Knights of Passion) (2 page)

Yes,
she wanted to scream,
yes!
But he was stroking that place inside her, and she could feel the pleasure welling up, and then it was there, embracing her, and her head fell back and she gasped out, her hips thrusting against his fingers.

When she was able to think again, she was astride his thighs, his cock deep inside her, and he was pressing open mouthed kisses along her throat as he thrust slowly, lazily, driving her toward that star filled paradise once more.

“You will not change sides, will you?” she said shakily, when she was able to speak again. He had dressed and moved to the door, ready to leave.

“Never.”

“Then I am wasting my time.” Her eyes searched his.

“
I don’t think it was a waste of time, Annalise. Do you?”

No,
she thought as he went out and closed the door. The time had not been entirely wasted. Annalise had learned something, had experienced something she may never experience again. Matilda may see this as a failure, but those moments with Fitzallen were moments Annalise would never forget.

***

Some months later

“Who is there?”

Annalise
leaned over the wall and gazed down onto the road outside her gate. It was dark, but the small group of men were carrying spluttering torches and their light showed her that they were hardened soldiers in chain mail.

“Lady, step back,” her captain warned her.

But Annalise had never stepped back from anything.

Just then a voice called out,
“Lady Annalise!”

Her heart stilled and then began to beat harder. That voice. She knew that voice. It was
his
voice.

“Lord
Fitzallen? What are you doing here at my gates?”

“I am
here on the service of the king, lady. Will you allow me entry?”

Annalise
hesitated, her hand going to the scabbard of the sword she wore about her waist. It was no affectation. Annalise was practised at using it.

“Open the gate,” she told her captain.

A moment later Fitzallen and his men were riding into the bailey. Annalise watched them from the wall, and then began to make her way unhurriedly down. By the time she reached him, Fitzallen had dismounted and removed his helmet and was standing, watching her approach.

He looked amused
, his gaze on the sword fastened about her waist, and she felt herself flush angrily.

“I would not like to challenge you, lady,” he said with a mocking bow.

Annalise swallowed her emotion and forced a smile. “I am glad to hear it, my lord. Will you take refreshments before you tell me what has brought you here to my home?”

“Perhaps I can do both, and we can talk privately?”

She led him to a private room, sending servants to fetch food for him, and to his men in the great hall. Fitzallen was always a big man, but he looked huge in his chainmail, and for a moment she wondered whether she had been wise to allow him into her castle.

But strange
as it was, she trusted him. He may be her enemy, but he was an honourable man at heart, and the fact that she hadn’t been able to turn him to Matilda’s side made him even more honourable in her eyes. She certainly did not believe him capable of the sort of brutality she had seen among so many others in this long, drawn out war.

“King Stephen has heard that Matilda’s son and heir, Henry Plantagenet is in England.”

Annalise narrowed her eyes. “Why come here then?”

“You are Matilda’s supporter. I thought you might know where he is.”

Annalise
shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t. And if you think I will betray him to you because of your pretty smile, then you are much mistaken Fitzallen.”

That smile curved the corner of his mouth.

“Perhaps I could make you tell me, Annalise. I would enjoy that. You might enjoy it too.”

She didn’t respond. She would not let him know that after their encounter at court she had spent many sleepless nights remembering his hands on her, his big body pounding into her
s, and the unique pleasure he gave her. It was a pleasure she had not had since and now, in the room with him, a dangerous ache was beginning between her legs and on the tips of her breasts.

“What does Stephen intend to do with Henry Plantagenet,” she said to distract him, and herself.

“Capture him. Stephen has a son and heir too. He wants Eustace to be the king of England after him, not Henry.”

In
Annalise’s opinion Eustace was hardly kingly material, but she let the curl of her lip speak for her.

Fitzallen
stepped closer, crowding her, his eyes boring into hers. “Where is he, lady?
I need to know.”

Annalise
turned away, drawing her sword at the same time. It was smaller than a man’s, delicately made, and frighteningly sharp. She held it before her, tip pointed in the direction of Fitzallen’s throat. “I think you should go now. You have stayed long enough.”

“Oh I don’t think so.”
Slowly, eyes on hers, he drew his own weapon from its scabbard, the sword enormous in comparison to hers. But Annalise refused to be intimidated. She knew she was a good fighter, she had worked hard with the captain of her guard, and he had shown her that skill and speed were more important than size. She was confident she could defeat Fitzallen.

They moved about each other, cautious as cats, and then Annalise darted toward him, her sword swishing through the air. Fitzallen held up his arm and the chain mail repelled the blow. He feted with his own sword, but Annalise moved nimbly aside. She waited a moment, and then ducked in under his arm, aiming at his belly.

Did she mean to hurt him? No. She merely wanted to show him she was able to best him in a fight, to gain his respect.

But a
moment later she found herself a captive, his arm tight about her waist as he held her against his big body, his other hand twisting her wrist painfully until her sword clattered to the floor.

“Let me go,” she hissed furiously, struggling, but he was too strong.

“Why, when you feel so very nice?” he mocked, bending to kiss the arch of her neck.

“Because you are bruising me!”

She expected him to mock her further, squeeze her tighter, what she didn’t expect was for him to release her instantly. She spun about, not trusting him without her eyes firmly on him, and found him frowning. His gaze swept over her, as if searching for injury, and then he bowed his head in a gesture that was almost humble.

“
I beg your pardon, Lady Annalise.”

She reached down for her sword, slipping it back into its scabbard, just as the servants arrived with food and wine. He looked to her over their heads, raising his eyebrows questioning. She under
stood he was wondering whether he was still leaving or whether he could stay.

Annalise
sighed. “You may refresh yourself, Lord Fitzallen. I will arrange for a bath and a room for you, as well as accommodation for your men. But in the morning you will leave.”

“Will I see you again?” he asked softly.

Annalise lifted her head proudly. “No. And I do not know where Henry is, my lord. I spoke truthfully there.” 

But as she turned away a treacherous voice was whispering in her head:
He will be here tonight. Long enough for you to go to his bed and sate your senses.

All the same,
Annalise remained firm in her resolve until she heard the rooster crowing at dawn. And then suddenly she was panicking, thinking it was too late, and on swift feet she ran to his room.

He was already up, seated on the bed, yawning and stretching. He
jumped up in surprise at her hasty entrance, and then smiled when she slid the bolt across the door.

“You did not bring your sword this time, lady.”

“I do not want to fight you, Fitzallen.”

A moment later she was in his arms, their mouths fused, hands hurrying to remove clothing.

He lifted her against the wall, and she clung to him, thighs about his waist, her arms entwined about his neck. She was so wet he slid inside her easily, her own weight bringing her down on his cock so that he was deep inside her, almost painfully deep.

Annalise
revelled in it. Her hips moved with his, her body pressing closer and closer, until it was as if their skin melded together. Never had a man made her feel like this, never had she met a man who could be her match in this carnal sport.

Why, oh why, did he have to be Stephen’s man?

He clasped her buttocks, lifting and lowering her, his mouth wet and hot on her breast, his tongue teasing her nipple. She reached down to pull at the other nipple, arching her back, before lowering her own mouth to his shoulder, her tongue tasting the skin of his throat and then his jaw.

He groaned as her lips finally found his, and then they were both caught up in the tide of their climax.

For a time they could do nothing but
lean against the wall, panting, too weak to move, and then he carried her, stumbling, to the bed and collapsed upon it.

Annalise
stretched like a cat, then wound her leg about his, her hands linked about his neck. She opened her mouth to say:
Don’t go.
And then froze. He was her enemy. She could not ask him to stay with her, and even if she did he would not.

Fitzallen
was watching her, and then he smiled, and she knew he’d read her mind.

“Will you be at court again soon, lady?”

Annalise swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”

“Then I will not say goodbye, not this time.”

“No, not this time,” she whispered, and stretched up to kiss him again.

***

Everyone knew that Henry had come to see Stephen. The court was abuzz, and Annalise peered over the shoulders of those in front of her, hoping for a glimpse of Matilda’s son. He was supposed to be handsome. And clever. He had come to make a treaty with Stephen, to put a stop to the constant fighting. He wanted Stephen to make him heir.

And the king had agreed
!

She felt light-headed with relief. The wars were over, and finally they would have peace. No more taking sides, no more plotting, no more spying. Fitzallen must be
present. He could not be anywhere else on such an auspicious day. But she was yet to see him, and she was beginning to worry that after all he must not be here.

She missed him. He was the only man who would not leave her in peace, and at night she dreamt of him constantly, waking with an aching, unsatisfied body and a longing that would not go away.
She longed for him with an anguish that was all consuming.

Could she have fallen in love with him?

But there was something disturbing she had learned since she arrived. Fitzallen, so rumour would have it, was to be betrothed. A young woman who was Stephen’s ward, who would bring him wealth and power. She could hardly believe it, she did not want to believe it, but if he was to be married then it was even more important that she find him. One more night together, one more passionate night in her bed. She would still miss him and long for him, but perhaps if she lay with him often enough on that one night then she could finally get him out of her blood.

Annalise
heard herself give a little sob, and put a hand to her lips, angry with herself for showing her emotions. Fitzallen clearly did not care for her, not if he would go off and marry another woman. Hadn’t he said he would never marry because he had never found the woman who matched him perfectly?

T
he awful, terrifying thing was that she now knew
she
was the woman for him. She wanted him in her bed always, and because she had not told him—was unable to tell him—they were enemies after all—it was too late.

Someone was standing behind her.

She could feel the heat of his big body, and she could smell his clean male scent.

Fitzallen
.

Annalise made her face
indifferent, and planted a smile on her lips before she turned to face him. She almost made a misstep when she saw how finely he was dressed with jewels gleaming on his tunic and the belt that held his scabbard. “You are very elegant, Lord Fitzallen,” she said, finding her voice, mocking him gently.

“It is an important occasion,” he reminded her softly.
His eyes ate her up, and she felt herself growing warm and languid, wanting him.

“We will be
ruled by one king,” she agreed. “Peace at last, my lord.”

Fitzallen
gave her a sombre look. “No more wars, my lady. No more taking sides. We can be united.”

Annalise
tried to read the expression in his eyes but gave up. If she didn’t have him soon she would scream, and when she had him she would scream too. The thought made her smile widen.