Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set (91 page)

I slump weakly onto the battered wooden bench. “So,
his dad beat him, huh?” Knowing the male ego the way I think I do,
I can only imagine how that would have made Syr Phillip
feel—especially at the age he was when he lost. “Was he so
embarrassed by that he didn’t fight in Crown again for all those
years?”

Pegeen sighs. “I really don’t know much more than
what I just told you, Lees. Mind you, I’ve only heard the stories
third-hand, but it seems like pretty much all the SCA folk who’ve
been around any length of time know them by heart. I honestly don’t
know why Syr Phillip didn’t fight in Crown again until now, but I
think I could probably hazard a guess.”

“Because he has enough money now, maybe? That’s what
he told me.”

“That might be part of it,” Pegeen says
thoughtfully. “But I think the real reason is because his dad moved
out of the Middle Kingdom last year. He moved to Pittsburgh, I
think, and that’s part of the kingdom of Aethelmarc. And about two
months after Syr Phillip’s dad moved to the kingdom of Aethelmarc,
he won the
Crown
of Aethelmarc, so that goes to show how
good a fighter Phillip’s dad still is, even at his age and in bad
physical shape. But to make a long story short, Syr Phillip is
probably only fighting in Crown Tournament here now that he doesn’t
have to worry about seeing his dad there.”

This puzzles me. “
Seeing
his dad at Crown, or
fighting
his dad at Crown?” I ask.

“Both.” Pegeen glances at her watch. “Our ten
minutes are up. We better get back to work before Brad notices
we’re both gone at the same time. You’re walking on thin ice with
Brad as it is.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “You know, I’m thinking it might be
time to find another job.”

“Don’t leave me here all alone!” Pegeen protests.
“You can only get a new job if I can get one with you. I really
don’t know if I could survive all of Brad’s bullshit without you
here, Lees.”

I smile and nod in response as we sneak back onto
the inspection floor, but don’t answer her. Much as I love my best
friend, I’m starting to think now that we are both in our late
twenties, she and I need to start doing fewer things together.
After all, how will Pegeen and I ever really grow up if we don’t
each have lives of our own? It’s normal and natural for best
friends—even best friends as inseparable as Pegeen and I—not to do
absolutely
everything
together. At our age, it probably just
isn’t feasible anymore.

Especially if I’m going to be Queen someday
soon.

Chapter
17

After work, I’m sitting on the couch at home
circling want ads in the
Dayton Daily News
when my land line
rings.

“Lisa?” It’s Syr Phillip, and he sounds excited.

“Hi sweetheart,” I purr as my body buzzes with
delectable memories of our overnight tryst. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Lisa. The whole drive back to
Columbus, all I could think of was. . .” Syr Phillip trails off and
I hear him suck in his breath through his teeth.

“What?”

“I’m kind of still at work. Can’t talk about—you
know.”

“Right,” I reply, giddy with the heat that rises
higher and higher in my nether parts with every word that my
beloved knight utters. “So, how are things other than, um—you know,
our hot sex last night?”

I can almost hear Syr Phillip’s body getting aroused
through the phone line. “Fine,” he breathes. I can tell he’s trying
hard not to get too worked up. “I. . .met with. . .my sales
director this. . .ahhhhhh, morning.”

“Are you all right, my sweet lord?” I say, my voice
a husky, erotic half-groan. Erogenous zones I never even knew I had
are popping up like hives all over my body.

“Lisa, milady, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it
if you’d keep your voice and conversation topics as non-sexy as
possible right now,” Syr Phillip whispers into the phone. “I’m
sitting in my cubicle about six feet away from the Vice President
of Pfizer Midwest Sales Development, and I can’t let him see me get
hot under the collar, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay,” I acquiesce. “I’ll just say a bunch of
highly un-sexy words. How’s that?” I pause to think up a few.
“Ummmm, how about—soap scum, garbage, tax return, spark plugs,
belly-button lint, and Ted Koppel.”

“That’s much better, Lisa. Now I can actually think
about something other than ravishing you. Like Crown Tournament.
You haven’t chickened out on me or anything, have you?”

“Nope. In fact, I’m looking at the want ads as we
speak. I think I’ll have to cut AC Delco loose in favor of a new
job if you win. My boss isn’t too keen on me taking sick days, let
alone extended vacations with my new boyfriend who also happens to
be the Great and All-Powerful King of the Middle Kingdom.” I am
careful not to mention anything that might remotely refer to Syr
Phillip’s father or the Kingdom of Aethelmarc.

“Take it easy, Lisa. I haven’t won yet.”

“But you will, won’t you?”

“I certainly hope I will, milady. But there are no
guarantees, especially now that the Tuchux and the Great Dark Horde
are supposedly in league with one another to try to keep me from
winning.” I notice that Syr Phillip’s voice is a little
unsteady.

“Why is that?” I ask, a bit fearful of pushing Syr
Phillip into this topic of conversation.

“Well, there is the little matter of the fire at
Lady Ramona’s house,” he says, agitated. Now I think I understand
why Syr Phillip sounded excited when he first called—sounding
excited can sometimes be the same as sounding scared.

“But you didn’t have anything to do with how the
fire started,” I say, noticing that my voice has developed a
nervous tinge of its own. “
Did
you?”

“No, of course not. But the fact that Master Melphus
was there and already angry with me for—well, for making out with
his most favored lady—“

“Don’t remind me,” I hiss. The memory of seeing Lady
Ramona suck-facing with my newly favored lord and knight still
stings.

“Lisa, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
I’m sorry.”

“You better be,” I retort, my tone hard and yet sexy
and playful at the same time.

“The very thought of how my uncouth behavior must
have hurt you tortures me day and night, milady,” Syr Phillip
gushes, the tremor in his voice gone and replaced by the gallant
knight’s tone I’ve come to love.

“Good,” I reply saucily. “You’ll remain in my favor
for the time being, then. By the way, have they ever figured out
what caused the fire?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure it’s being investigated. But
if I have to venture a guess, I think that one of Tuchux may have
started it. The Tuchux are a duplicitous bunch. They might be
pretending to be allied with the Dark Horde right now, when in fact
they are really only acting on their own behalf. Because
selfishness, violence, and hurting the innocent are what the Tuchux
are all about.”

Now I’m clueless, as I always am when Syr Phillip
starts talking SCA politics. “Who are these Tuchux, anyway? Are you
ever going to explain that?” I have no idea what the term ‘Tuchux’
even stands for, other than it sounds vaguely like a breakfast
cereal.

“The Tuchux are kind of an entity among themselves.
They technically aren’t even part of the SCA, although they
participate in Pennsic every year. Like the Great Dark Horde,
they’re mercenaries. They fight the War battles either on the
Midrealm side or the East Kingdom side, depending on which king
pays them more in bounty.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” I mutter, not really
understanding all the complexities of SCA politics and social
hierarchy, as per usual. “But what, or who,
are
these
Tuchux?”

“Well, the Tuchux have been around since sometime in
the late sixties, I believe. Most of them live in or around
Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania, where the Pennsic War is held every
year. The Tuchux are strictly a fantasy group, and unlike the SCA,
they have no real interest in historical accuracy or education or
anything like that.”

“Uh huh,” I drawl, not really understanding.

“The Tuchux are barbarians,” Syr Phillip says
through clenched teeth. “They are rude, crude, filthy, and
disgusting. They have no chivalry at all. They’re animals, in my
opinion. They even wear animal skins as clothing.” I can almost
hear Syr Phillip shudder through the phone.

“So, are these Tuchux like a cult or something? Are
they barbarians in real life, too?” I conjure up a mental image of
men and women in animal skins chewing on greasy animal bones and
grunting. I figure maybe they make their money by hiring themselves
out as zoo exhibits or something.

“Lisa, the strange thing about the Tuchux is, these
guys are generally all highly respected members of their everyday
communities. Doctors. Lawyers. Corporate CEOs. Engineers. Highly
successful businessmen. People who lead very busy, strait-laced,
important lives. And for reasons I don’t fully understand, all
these doctors, lawyers, CEOs and businessmen decided one day to get
together to spend their vacation time wearing animal skins and
leather loincloths, rubbing their bodies with bacon grease, getting
pitch-drunk, and addressing one another as ‘bitch’ and ‘dog’. I’ve
had a few run-ins with the Tuchux at past Wars, and none of them
were pleasant, let me tell you. I have to reiterate again—I really
can’t stand those filthy Tuchux sons of bitches.”

“Okay, okay!” I burble, surrendering while
simultaneously making a mental note to research the Tuchux on the
Internet. “So what does all of this have to do with you winning
Crown Tournament?”

“Well, it’s complicated. There may be some
last-minute additions to the Lists I might not be prepared for, and
I’ll need to be ready for anything. Those Tuchux who bother to get
authorized in the SCA style of fighting are really quite good,
although I’m not sure if any of them are actually qualified to
fight in the Midrealm—like I said, most of the Tuchux live in
Pennsylvania. But even without any Tuchux there, I will have to be
ready for anything. I’ll need to spend more time at fight practice
in the next two weeks than usual, which means I won’t be able to
see you very much.”

“Oh,” I murmur. All the erogenous zones that had
been buzzing at full-tilt just moments ago suddenly go cold.

Syr Phillip detects my disappointment. “I’m sorry,
Lisa. But I have to be prepared if I am going to defend your honor
at Crown all the way up to the final round.” I hear the slightest
hint of self-doubt in Syr Phillip’s voice, and I wonder for a
moment how much of what Pegeen told me about Syr Phillip’s father,
the King of Aethelmarc, is really true.

“Lisa, I’m very sorry that I won’t be able to spend
much time with you before Crown, but believe me, it’s for the
best.”

I say nothing. I choke on the start of some stinging
tears in the back of my throat instead.

“It will be all right, Lisa.” Syr Phillip’s velvety
voice soothes me through ninety-five miles’ worth of Ma Bell
cable—although not very much.

“But—I was really hoping we could, you know, spend
some
quality
time together,” I cry, trying to keep any
double entendres out of my tone out of respect for Syr Phillip
being at work.

“Lisa, I promise I’ll make things up to you the
night of Crown. In the meantime, though, I’ve got a couple homework
assignments for you.”

I toss aside my
Dayton Daily News
in
frustration. “Like what?”

“For one thing, be available for Barlonda to do
fittings on you whenever she needs to. I want you to be garbed to
the hilt at Crown. Everyone’s eyes will be on you, and I want all
those eyes to be impressed.” Syr Phillip’s tone has gone from a
satiny, soothing baritone to hard-edged and competitive.

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” I reply, eager
to please my knight. “Barlonda already has my blue gown’s makeover
almost finished, plus—“

“I don’t want you wearing
that
one to Crown,
nice as it is,” Syr Phillip retorts, his voice now almost a hiss.
“I want your garb matching mine, so
everyone
knows that
you’re my lady.” The competitive edge in Syr Phillip’s voice now
shifts to one of possession. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he
was pounding his fists with every word he spoke. That icy
possessiveness makes me both a little scared and a little turned on
at the same time.

“Uhh—I’m sure that will be fine, honey. Barlonda can
come by in the evenings after I get off work to do fittings. No
problem.”

“Good,” Syr Phillip replies, his voice much calmer
and more even now. “There’s another thing I need you to do,
too.”

“What’s that?”

“The Shire of Winged Hills has planning meetings
every Sunday night at the Wright State University campus. These
meetings aren’t like an event, where you have to show up in garb
and speak forsoothly and all that. They’re strictly for discussing
and planning SCA business and upcoming events. They’re also a good
way to meet people outside of regular SCA activities. Plus—“

Syr Phillip trails off and I hear him suck in his
breath again, something he seems to do a lot when he’s nervous.

“Plus what?”

“Plus, these weekly meetings are a good place to spy
on people.”

“
What?”
I do a double take against the phone
mouthpiece, bruising my chin in the process. “You want me to
spy
on people?”

“Well, maybe that’s too strong a term.
Find out a
few things
would be more like it.”

Now I’m starting to get suspicious. “What kinds of
things, exactly? And about whom?”

“Master Melphus, mostly. He resides in Winged Hills
and I want to know what he’s up to. Find out who’s talking
to
him, or
about
him. Especially any mention of
what’s going on with the house fire investigation. And report that
information back to me.”