Connie Mason (6 page)

A faint noise in the corridor caught his attention. He strode to the door and pulled it open. Mariah stood on the threshold, looking frightened and uncertain. He pulled her inside and closed the door.

“You came,” he whispered. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t.”

“I . . . couldn’t help myself.”

He hugged her against him. “I’m glad. You won’t be sorry, I swear.” He led her toward the bed and pulled back the covers.

He loosened the belt holding her robe together and pulled the edges apart, gasping when he realized she wore naught underneath but satiny skin. He pushed the robe off her shoulders; it fell to her feet in a puddle of silk.

“God’s nightgown,” he whispered, awestruck by the vision standing before him. Candlelight painted her body in varying shades of gold. “Words cannot describe your beauty. I have never seen its like.”

“How . . . how can you say such a thing when you cannot remember the women in your life?”

“I may not remember, but my eyes tell no lies.” She backed away. “You’re not shy, are you, Mariah? ’Tis not as if you are a virgin.”

“I have been with no man but my husband.”

“He is dead,” Falcon said harshly. “If you cannot forget him this night, then leave now, for I want no other man in our bed, not even a dead one.”

Mariah caught her breath. Was Sir Knight angry? She had come this far, she could not leave now. Even though she wanted this night for herself, she must think of Mildenhall and the son she needed to secure the holding for her people. She had never seduced a man, but if that was what it took to convince Sir Knight that he was the only man she wanted, then so be it.

“Make up your mind, Mariah,” Falcon challenged. “Can you forget your dead husband when I make love to you?”

Mariah sidled up to him and wound her arms around
his neck. His torso was stunningly bare; his thin hose did naught to conceal the engorged ridge of his sex.

“I promise I won’t leave you with child, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Mariah blinked. “ ’Tis of no consequence, for I am barren,” she lied.

“Are you certain?”

“Aye. Edwina has said it is so. ’Tis you I want, Sir Knight, you and no other.”

“Then prove it.”

Mariah stared at him. She hadn’t the slightest idea what he was talking about. She knew naught about seduction. Though she lacked a maidenhead, she had never really been made love to.

“Kiss me,” Falcon urged.

Mariah moved erotically against him, her fingers tangling in the silken curls at his neck, still damp from his bath. She raised her mouth to his.

Sir Knight’s mouth slammed down on hers. There was no gentleness in his kiss. It was hard, demanding, unrelenting. He prodded her mouth open with his tongue; she opened for him and he plunged inside. Lightning shot through her as he laved her mouth with his tongue, igniting the embers of passionate longing she had suppressed all these years. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, struggling for balance. His skin was surprisingly soft to her touch, yet underneath she felt his muscles harden and flex.

She inched closer, crushing her breasts against his chest. His arms snaked around her waist, hugging her close as he kissed her mouth, her eyes, her cheeks, her chin. And then his mouth found her breasts. Unexpected
thrills surged through her as Sir Knight’s tongue circled a nipple with hot, lazy strokes. Part of her mind marked every stroke of his tongue while the other part wondered what he would do next. She had never imagined a man’s touch could arouse this kind of need in her.

His mouth left her nipple; he scooped her into his arms and placed her on the bed. He stood over her, watching her as he stripped off his hose and tossed them aside. Mariah glanced at the thick length of his manhood and felt her cheeks heat. It rose hard and high against his stomach from a nest of black curls. She had seen his manhood before but never like this.

He lowered himself to the feather mattress and rolled on top of her. Mariah felt a moment of panic but quickly pushed it aside. Apparently, Sir Knight knew precisely what he was doing, and she thanked God for it.

His mouth found her breasts again, sucking hard on each nipple in turn, until they pebbled into aching buds. She bit her bottom lip to stifle a groan. He pressed an open kiss to her stomach, searing her skin with his tongue. Her mouth went dry. Alarm swirled in her belly when his mouth didn’t stop there but continued on a downward path. Her senses had been unprepared for what he did next, and she suddenly realized that she was too inexperienced for this virile man.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Aye, sweeting, I aim to.”

He spread her legs with his shoulders. Cool air teased her open flesh. Suddenly she felt exposed, shy. But there was more. To her utter humiliation, Sir Knight bent his head and flicked his tongue across her sex. She bucked; he chuckled and held her in place as he found the tender
nub between her thighs and sucked it between his lips. Sensation soared. Tremors raced through her core. She cried out.

He raised his head. “Did you like that?”

“Nay! Aye! I don’t know. Anything that feels that good must be sinful.”

He lowered his head and pressed his tongue inside her womanhood. She arched, gasped and tried to push him away. He looked up, watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Did your husband not kiss you there?”

“Nay, he would never—”

“A pity,” he sighed, moving up her body. “We shall save that for another time.”

He began kissing her again, her mouth, her breasts, her tender nipples, driving Mariah mad with wanting. She had never felt like this before. She burned, she couldn’t catch her breath. Hot blood gushed through her veins, heating her from the inside out. Color bloomed on her cheeks as Sir Knight’s hand drifted between her thighs. He opened her and plunged a finger inside. In and out, in and out, until she feared she would explode. Something momentous dangled out of her reach, but she didn’t know what it was or how to seize it.

“Sir Knight . . . please.” She wanted . . . she wanted . . . what? She didn’t know what to ask for.

He moved up her body. “Do you want me now?”

“Aye.”

“Where do you want me?”

She blinked but didn’t hesitate. She’d have to be made of stone not to know precisely where she wanted him. “I want you inside me.”

Bracing his hands alongside her, he lowered himself until he lay fully atop her. His member, hard like granite and hot as a flame, pressed into her inner passage. She heard herself moan.

Falcon paused. “You’re tight . . . too tight.”

Mariah had naught to say to that.

He pushed inside another inch, her wetness smoothing his entry. She held her breath. He bucked his hips, thrust forward and filled her. He was inside her, deep, full, stretching her. For a moment she feared she would tear. But of course she did not.

“Damnation,” Falcon hissed from between clenched teeth. “If you weren’t lacking a maidenhead, I would swear you were a virgin. Did I hurt you?”

“Only a little and just for a moment. Don’t stop.”

Their bodies were pressed together and slick with sweat as Falcon began to move. If he had done this before, and he knew he had, it had never been like this. Naught within his realm of understanding had ever felt this good.

He flexed his hips, thrusting his manhood in and out of her wetness. Mariah grasped his buttocks and arched upward, taking every turgid inch of him into her wet core.

She writhed, sobbed and rocked with agonizing rapture. The intense pleasure was almost too much for her to bear.

“Sir Knight,” she cried. “Please. I know not what is happening to me.”

“Trust me,” he grunted. “I will not leave you wanting.”

He continued thrusting and retreating, driving her, pushing her until she could stand it no longer. Pressure built; and then it happened. Her muscles contracted, she spasmed, heat flooded her core, and she screamed. He
continued pumping into her, panting, crying out as he emptied himself inside her.

Naught but harsh breathing filled the chamber. While Falcon had a vague memory of having lain with other women, he knew that what he and Mariah had just experienced was unique and precious.

Mariah stirred beneath him. Fearing he was crushing her, he pulled out and settled beside her.

“That was . . . I cannot describe it,” Mariah murmured. “I have never felt anything like that before in my life. What did you do?”

“You are very good for my pride, lady,” Falcon said, grinning. “I made love to you. When you mated with your husband, did he give you no pleasure?”

Mariah shook her head.

“Then he did not deserve you,” Falcon observed. “I am glad I am the first to unleash your passion.”

Falcon thought she looked so adorable all rumpled, her lips swollen from his kisses, that he wanted her again. He decided he must have been without a woman a very long time to be so greedy, and so ready.

He turned Mariah toward him; she went willingly into his arms. Then he began to make love to her again, using his hands, his mouth and his lips to arouse her. When he lifted her on top of him and told her to ride him, he knew by her puzzled expression that this, too, was another pleasure her husband had denied her.

“Ride you?”

He spread her legs so that she straddled him. Then he lifted her slightly and pushed her down onto his swollen cock. She gasped. He smiled. Grasping her buttocks, he began to move her up and down until she learned the
rhythm. She proved an apt pupil. Soon she was riding him like a bucking bronco, bringing them both to a shattering climax.

After that they slept. Mariah woke to the church bell announcing Lauds. Sir Knight was sleeping soundly beside her. She studied his face in the flickering candlelight, wondering how many women he had made love to before learning to do it so well. She smiled. Asleep, he looked very young and very vulnerable.

But he was a strong man. He had survived injuries that lesser men would have succumbed to. And she knew—
knew
—he would hate her if he learned she had lied to him and used him. Edwina had predicted a son would come of her coupling with Sir Knight, but if it did not, she would always have this night to remember. And God willing, there would be other nights like this one before Sir Knight left.

Mariah rose without waking him, donned her discarded robe and returned to the solar. Edmond was still sleeping. She wasn’t going to tell him about this night, or any others that might follow. Only if she conceived would she confess her sin. Until then, she fully intended to savor the pleasure Sir Knight gave her.

Falcon began to feel as if he belonged at Mildenhall. During the day he trained with Mildenhall’s knights, proving his worth as an experienced swordsman. He ate all his meals at the high table with Mariah and either played chess or just conversed with Lord Edmond when the old man felt up to it. But the nights belonged solely to him and Mariah.

She came to him at Matins, sometimes left at Lauds,
but more often than not lay with him until Prime, when the castle inhabitants began to stir. As far as Falcon was aware, no one knew about their nightly trysts. The passion he and Mariah shared within his chamber was without compare. The only thing stopping him from asking her to wed him was his lack of memory.

One night, as Mariah lay sated in his arms, he couldn’t recall how long he had been Lord Edmond’s guest and asked Mariah.

She thought a moment, and then said, “You were brought here on a Saturday, the day cotters bring produce to the castle. Since then, four Saturdays have come and gone.”

Falcon reared up. “That means I’ve been here well over thirty days. Has no one come looking for me?”

“Nay, but we are a remote holding and seldom have visitors.”

“Has no one heard rumors about a missing knight?”

“If they have, word hasn’t reached us yet. Are you so anxious to leave us?”

“I need to know who I am and where I belong, Mariah.”

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when Falcon turned to Mariah and began making love to her. Thinking about his missing past made him edgy and uncomfortable, but making love to Mariah made him forget for a short time that he was a man with no name, no past and no future.

Two days later, Falcon was heading out to the training field with his borrowed sword when Mariah intercepted him. “You’ve been training every day. Would you like to do something different today?”

He sent her a lopsided grin. “That depends on what you have in mind.”

She laughed. “Behave, Sir Knight. Come with me to the mews. You haven’t visited there yet.”

A buzzing began in Falcon’s head. “The mews?”

They turned in the direction Mariah indicated. “You haven’t seen Edmond’s falcons. He takes great pride in them. I thought we might take them out today. There’s a peregrine Edmond is particularly fond of. He used to love to hunt. Do you—”

Falcon stopped in his tracks. The buzzing in his head grew louder, and devils began dancing in his brain. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the pain.

“Sir Knight, what is wrong? Are you ill?”

Falcon stared at Mariah. “What did you call me?”

“Sir Knight. ’Tis what I always call you.”

The buzzing turned into a roar. Holding his head, he fell to his knees. His breath seized, and in that breathless moment he remembered his name and everything else about himself.

Mariah dropped down beside him. “Shall I summon Edwina, Sir Knight?”

He looked up at her, unfocused, disoriented. But out of the pain came illumination. “Do not call me Sir Knight. I have a name.”

Air exploded from Mariah’s lungs. “What just happened?”

He rose slowly, shakily. “I know who I am. I remember everything. The attack, where I was headed and where I had come from. I am one of King Henry’s knights. I fought with him in France and earned his praise. My name is Falcon of Gaveston and . . . and . . . God’s teeth!
My betrothed is waiting for me in London. We were to be wed over a fortnight ago. I must bid your father good-bye and leave immediately. Pray God Rosamond is still waiting for me.”

Stricken, Mariah searched his face for a hint of the man she knew as Sir Knight, her lighthearted lover. But that man was gone, replaced by a stranger. The moment he had remembered his name and past, his face had changed, hardened. He had his own life and purpose now, and she meant naught to him.