Her Rogue Knight (10 page)

“A few days. Alys is still unharmed based on your vision, which means no one has inspected her for the mark. If they have not done so yet, I imagine there is no one who knows to do it. The men who kidnapped her may simply have been for hire and perhaps do not know what precious cargo they carry.”

“That’s good then. They won’t hurt her. But we won’t know where the people who ordered the kidnapping are waiting for her.”

“Likely at the ritual site.”

“How are we going to get her back? We’re only two. There were a dozen men who came to our house at least.”

“We need to wait, to see who is at the site. It may be easiest to wait until the ceremony. There will likely be less people there—they won’t want to share their sacrifice.”

“Please stop using that word. She is my sister, and she has a name.”

He looked at her. “I apologize,” he said.

Once the rabbit was ready, he took it from the fire. “Come, let us eat.”

They ate in silence, but every time she looked up, Gemma caught his eyes on her. “We’ll have to kill the men who ordered the kidnapping, won’t we?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered simply. “Do you understand why?”

She nodded. “They’ll come for us again if we do not.” She set the meat she held back down, unable to eat any more. “I’m tired.”

He nodded. Rising to his feet, he lay his cloak out to prepare their bed. He then turned to her.

“I will keep you safe, both of you. After this is over too, I mean.”

She looked at him, understanding what he spoke of. “If I said no… I mean, if I said I did not want to marry you, that it wasn’t my choice, would you make me?”

“I am a man, Gemma,” he said simply.

“You are a noble knight. You are Sir Galahad the Pure.”

He stepped closer. She remained where she was. He reached forward and began to untie the laces of her corset, all the while his eyes on hers. She stood still, allowing him to remove the stiff garment, but when he reached to continue with her dress, she protested.

“Sir,” she said, still not moving.

He ignored her. “I’m not so pure, Gemma,” he said, reaching his face to hers. She felt the prickle of his unshaven beard before the softness of his lips brushed hers. When she didn’t resist, he wrapped one arm around her waist and kissed again, this time more deeply. She closed her eyes, her body warming, melting into his even as she pressed her hands against his chest.

She made a sound, and he broke their kiss but remained as close as he was, looking down at her, his hold on her not allowing her to move.

“You kissed me this morning, Gemma,” he said.

She only stared at him, her mouth opening to say something but nothing coming.

“Did you think I did not know?” he asked.

Still no sound from her.

“Undress and prepare for bed. I’ll rub the ointment onto your backside.”

“No, you don’t need to. It’s fine. I mean… it’s not fine. It… I can do it.”

He smiled. “I prefer to. I’d like to look over any bruises. Undress and lay down on your stomach, Gemma,” he repeated, turning to tend to the fire. “And remember your promise of obedience. If you need a reminder…”

She looked at his back, unsure what to say, what to do. Modesty and pride, well, the latter more so than the former, had her fisting her hands in rebellion. The threat of another spanking on her already sore bottom, however, had her reaching to remove her dress. At least it wasn’t daytime and the room was not so well lit, she thought, comforting herself. But the thought of his hands on her… no, she had to stop that line of thinking now.

She removed her dress and went to lay down.

“Shift too,” he said.

She looked up to find him smearing some of the ointment from the pot onto his fingers.

“You won’t want this on your clothes,” he said.

He was right in that she did not want the fat of the ointment on her clothing, but the fact that she’d be naked while he rubbed the stuff onto her skin, specifically her bottom…

He smiled, waiting.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

He did, but not before she saw the broad smile across his face.

“You are awful,” she said, lifting her shift over her head and lying quickly down onto her belly.

“I’ve seen you half naked before,” he said, turning back as she drew the shift over her hips like a blanket. “And when you are my wife…”

“I am not your wife yet!” she protested, although it wasn’t a whole-hearted protest. He knelt beside her.

He made a sound as he pulled the shift from her hips so she lay completely naked. She heard him suck in a breath, and she tucked her arms beneath her chest, wanting to make herself as small as possible as he began to massage the ointment onto her thighs, starting at the backs of her knees. He worked his way up slowly. With his other hand, he pushed her hair off her back and rubbed her shoulders. He didn’t speak and neither did she. Instead, he massaged gently, his hands kneading the flesh of her thighs, her back, her bottom. She flinched a little when he touched the more tender spots, but the massage itself felt so good. She hadn’t been touched like this, well, ever.

“Good, just relax,” he said, straddling her hips and focusing both hands on her shoulders now, coaxing her arms out from underneath her and massaging those as well.

Gemma found her eyes closing as his thumbs worked slow, deep circles all over her back, moving lower as he moved lower, covering every inch of her back before starting on her buttocks, his fingers slippery from the ointment as he circled and kneaded. The attention was delicious. He worked his way over the fleshy mounds and to the cleft between them. She tensed for a moment, but he moved on to her sit spots, then to the crease between buttocks and thigh. He coaxed her legs apart as he worked her inner thighs, and before she knew it, he was turning her over onto her back.

Her eyes flew open, but her protest was weak. She was half lost in the ecstasy of his touch.

“Shh,” he coaxed, settling himself so her legs were trapped between his. She kept her eyes on his hands as he worked her shoulders, pressing them down, circling the tense spots, his fingers traveling over her breasts lightly. She looked at him then only to find his eyes darker as he looked down at her. Her nipples hardened when he passed over them, using the pads of his fingertips first before turning them so that he scratched with his nails. She gasped at the slight pain after such tender sensation but did not move, and when his gaze met hers, she held it.

Sir Galahad leaned down, bringing his mouth to hers, kissing her while his hands traveled south, covering the peaks of her pelvic bones, down over the flat of her stomach and into the small triangle of chestnut hair between her legs.

She gasped into his mouth, but when his finger touched that very sensitive, swollen nub, she moaned, allowing him to ease her legs apart, even finding herself spreading them wider when he pressed himself against her. He released her mouth then and brushed kisses across her jaw, her chin, her neck. He took each nipple into his mouth in its turn, sucking softly for a moment, then harder, drawing each one out. She reached out to touch him, the sensation at her breasts sending a signal directly to her sex.

“Sir Galahad,” she managed, twining her fingers into his hair as his mouth trailed down over her belly button, across her stomach. He sat up for a moment, his thumbs pushing the hair from her sex, his eyes on her there, taking in the pink, wet lips as he held them open for his inspection. He met her gaze when she made a sound. His pupils were dilated, his face flushed. Without a moment of hesitation, he brought his mouth between her legs, and when he kissed her nub, she gasped, reaching for him, lifting her hips to him when his mouth closed around it and he began to suck.

“Oh…” she managed, her breath coming sharp and short as he licked her, dipping his tongue inside her, one hand moving underneath to spread her bottom cheeks apart, one finger finding the entrance to her sex, another the space between that and her anus, and another on that back hole. But this time, his touch was different than the last when he had punished her. This time, he was soft; touching, circling, giving so much pleasure she found her hips bucking beneath his mouth. She became only her body as sensations she had never experienced before took hold of her wholly. She called out, she wasn’t sure if it was a scream or a moan or even his name, but she was lost in those moments of ecstasy, his mouth hot on her sex, his tongue wet, her body giving. Only when she lay spent, still shuddering from its exertion, did he move away, exposing her wet sex to cool air before he stripped off his shirt and lay next to her, gathering her in his arms, kissing her with the mouth he’d used to kiss her sex, to make her come. She tasted herself on him and opened to him, her hands on his head, her arms pulling him to her, wanting more, wanting him.

“Sleep,” he managed, his voice hoarse at her ear.

“I…” she began.

He pulled back and looked down at her. His expression was serious, but she smiled and reached to touch his face, his mouth.

“Sleep now, Gemma,” he said softly.

She closed her eyes and curled herself into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and she slept feeling safe, feeling warm, feeling so completely tender.

Chapter Eight

Gemma knew she was dreaming as soon as she opened her eyes. She stood at the shore of a lake she did not know. Water lapped along the beach, washing over her bare feet. The cool of it startled her, making her take a step back. She stood in her shift, the bracer on her arm, her long hair loose down her back, some small braids keeping it from her face. She held her bow and arrow. It was light, but she couldn’t decide what time of day it was. And she was alone.

She closed her eyes willing herself to see Alys.

She is unharmed.

The voice said.

Tonight is for you. Are you prepared to fight for her? Are you prepared to face who you are? To acknowledge the blood that runs through your veins?

Her mother’s words came as a single thought.

“Let me see you,” Gemma said aloud, her eyes filling with tears at the memory of her mother’s voice.

You are not yet ready to see me, child.

“I miss you.”

A breeze blew, caressing her face, lifting the hair from her neck. A thought did not accompany it, but the remembered scent of her mother filled the air around her. Gemma wept with longing.

They have taken a different path, Gemma. They will bring her to this shore, not the one your knight believes. Head north. Make your way to Bardsey Island. On the west side of the island is where you will find your sister. But hurry. Her time is running out. The fires will be lit in three days’ time. If you are late, she will be lost.

“Three days? How do I find the island?”

Open your eyes to see.

“You speak in riddles.”

Your lover is brave. But does he have courage enough to take the one thing that will keep you safe, daughter?

“I do not understand.”

Laughter like a bell.

Open your eyes to see.

All sound stopped then. Gemma opened her eyes just in time to watch the sky darken. She stood still as rain poured down, feeling the cool wet of water drench her through as the heat of her birthmark warmed her. This time the tingling deepened and spread, the sensation traveling along her neck and across her collarbone. She reached to touch it, hearing the hiss of the serpents as she suddenly woke, sitting straight up.

She looked around, slowly remembering where she was. She was naked and drenched in sweat but shivering at the same time. Sir Galahad was not in sight.

She found her shift and slipped it over her head, then put on her dress and corset, realizing that her bottom was no longer sore when she stepped out into the fresh morning air. With that came the memory of what they had done last night. Of what he had done to her. Her body came alive at the image even as her face flushed red with embarrassment.

“Gemma,” came his voice from behind her.

She turned to face him.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He came closer, and his hands immediately went to her shoulders, pushing he hair away, tugging the dress off her shoulder. He wasn’t looking at her face any longer.

“They’re not going where you think. They’re taking her to Bardsey Island.”

“Gemma,” he began as if he hadn’t heard her at all.

His tone was strange. She reached up to touch her hand to the spot he now traced, then looked down at it herself. There, across her shoulder and stopping at the curve of her arm was the birthmark. It had grown, the serpents thicker, their bodies somehow warmer than the rest of her skin. They were a part of her but at the same time, separate from her.

“What’s happening to me?” she asked, looking up at him.

He looked at her, his expression worried. “What did you see exactly?”

“I was standing on a shore of an island. This time I did not see Alys. My mother’s voice came again.” She remembered how her mother had called him her lover and had to drop her gaze to the ground.

Galahad’s hands were on her face, lifting it, forcing her to look at him.

“Go on,” he said.

“She said they have taken a different path. They aren’t going where you thought. They are heading north to Bardsey Island. She said we would find Alys on the west side of the island.”

“I have heard of it,” he said. “Was there anything else? Anything to guide us? Don’t leave anything out, Gemma.”

“She said the fires will burn in three days’ time, which we knew. She also said you were brave but asked if you had the courage to take the one thing that would keep me safe. I don’t understand. She told me to open my eyes to see. She laughed, and she wouldn’t let me see her, said I wasn’t ready. Do you understand this?”

* * *

Galahad looked down at her, wanting to erase the confusion from her face, wanting to tell her all would be fine. But he couldn’t do that.

“The serpents are a sign of protection from Avalon. They have been used before in the form of tattoos for centuries. Two intertwining serpents wrapped around the arm or wrist of a man who had sworn loyalty to the protection of the island, of its lore, its women. I believe you will be protected, Gemma. They feel warm to the touch, how do they feel to you? Do you know when they’re growing?”