A Knight's Honor Read online

  Edmond again, not Father. Strange, but he had heard of stranger things, if he could remember them. "I thought you might be angry with me."

  Mariah gazed at him then, studying his features. His face was no longer swollen, revealing the handsomest man Mariah had ever seen. His golden eyes held a hint of amusement, reminding her of the stolen moments of inti­macy they had shared last night. She had tried to forget, but how could she when she could still feel the softness of his lips against hers and the roughness of his tongue thrusting in and out of her mouth?

  "I'm not angry. But you shouldn't have taken liberties."

  "Why not? You are a widow, not a nun. I thought our attraction was mutual."

  Mariah hated living a lie. She wanted to blurt out that Edmond was her husband, but if she did and lost her one chance of having a son, Mildenhall would cease to exist as she knew it after Edmond's death. For Edmond's peace of mind and for the people of Mildenhall, she must se­duce Sir Knight for the child he could give her. And it had to be soon, before he regained his memory.

  Last night Edmond had spoken to her at length about the future of Mildenhall. He had impressed upon her that her future and the future of those she loved rested on her

  shoulders. Long after she had retired, she realized that her sacrifice wouldn't be a sacrifice at all. In fact, if the kiss she'd shared with Sir Knight last night was any indi­cation, she would find pleasure in his arms.

  Falcon pushed back his plate. "Would you like to show me around, Lady Mariah? I'd like to start with the grounds."

  Mariah scraped back her chair. "Are you sure you feel up to it?"

  "I need to stretch my legs. I am a man accustomed to pushing my body to its limits."

  "How do you know that?"

  " 'Tis merely a feeling. Just like the feeling that tells me this isn't the first time I have suffered wounds to my body. It is, however, the first time I lost my memory be­cause of them."

  They walked from the hall into the sunshine. Falcon blinked, raised his head and savored the fresh air. Mariah pointed out the various buildings in the inner bailey and what they were used for. Everything Falcon saw looked familiar. He realized that he had been inside or lived in a castle much grander than this at one time. He could name every part of the fortress, from the portcullis to the crenellations topping the parapet.

  "Are you tired yet?" Mariah asked.

  "Nay, I wish to see the stables."

  "You won't find your horse there."

  "Nevertheless, I want to see how familiar I am around horses."

  "Very familiar, I suspect."

  The stables felt like home to Falcon, a place where he felt comfortable. After admiring the horseflesh in Lord

  Edmond's stable, he left with a sense of belonging in this kind of environment, and a belief that it was only a matter of time before he knew where he fit in. Meanwhile, there was Mariah, a woman who intrigued him more with each passing day.

  Sometimes she looked at him as if she wanted some­thing from him. If it was sex, he would happily oblige, once he felt strong enough to make it good for both of them. He had almost reached that point now.

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  Falcon did not return to his bed that day, for he felt strong enough now to remain upright for long periods. That night after the evening meal, he played chess with Lord Edmond while Mariah looked on. During the following days he practiced at swordplay with Sir Maynard, the captain of Mildenhall's guards, and proved himself a ca­pable swordsman. Now that Falcon's strength had re­turned, he hoped to heal his memory, and remaining hidden away at Mildenhall wouldn't do that for him.

  One day Falcon asked Mariah to take him to the cotter who had found him.

  "Very well," Mariah agreed, "but I doubt you will learn anything from him. You can choose a horse from Ed­mond's stables."

  Mariah had proven correct. The cotter told him naught that he hadn't already learned from Mariah and Edwina. Then he asked Mariah to take him to the place where he had been found. After asking directions from the cotter, Mariah and Falcon started off to search for Falcon's past.

  When they arrived at the place described by the cotter, Falcon dismounted. He stood in the middle of the roadbed, searching for something, anything that would

  jog his memory. He looked around him, at the dense for­est lining either side of the road. His brow furrowed in concentration as an image flashed before his eyes. But it fled, vanquished by a crushing pain in his head.

  A groan ripped from his throat; he clasped his head be­tween his hands, trying to fight the agony that threatened to consume him.

  "What is it?" Mariah asked as she leapt from her horse and came to his aid.

  Falcon wagged his head from side to side. "There was something—I almost had it but I lost it. The pain— damnation, why can't I remember?"

  "Does your head still hurt?"

  "Like the very devil."

  "Come, there's a place nearby where you can rest until the pain goes away. Follow me."

  Leading their horses through the trees, Mariah guided Falcon to a grassy bank beside a babbling brook. Falcon dropped to the ground and rested his head against his crossed arms, waiting for the pounding to stop so he could think clearly.

  He lay back on the grass, staring at fluffy clouds float­ing aimlessly across a blue sky. If he never regained his memory or found his place in the world, of what use was he? What if his memory never returned?

  He glanced at Mariah and found her staring at him. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

  He studied her lovely face. The pain in his head had subsided, allowing him to see Mariah clearly. She was beautiful, kind and intelligent. Perhaps he should con­centrate on what he had here and forget his past. Mildenhall was not a bad place to live, and he truly liked

  Mariah's father. He wondered if he could make a life at Mildenhall.

  With Marian.

  "I'm thinking I'd very much like to kiss you. The first time whetted my appetite for more."

  "Your head—"

  "The pain has passed. It only comes when I try to re­member. Mayhap I should make new memories." He ex­tended his hand as if in supplication. "Will you help me, Marian?"

  A day hadn't passed that Mariah didn't think about that first kiss she had shared with Sir Knight. It had been like naught she had experienced in her twenty-one years. So how could she resist another taste of heaven?

  She took his hand and knelt beside him. She knew it was wicked of her to want Sir Knight's kisses when her husband lay ill in his bed, but she craved more out of life than tending an old man. She wanted to know pleasure, and she wanted a child.

  Edwina believed that Sir Knight would regain his mem­ory one day, and that meant he would leave. She could al­most bear his leaving if he gave her a babe to love.

  Sir Knight reached up, curled a hand around her neck and eased her over him. His body was hard, his face stark with a need she had never seen before on a man's face. Their lips touched, meshing together as their bodies melded. Icy shivers raced down her spine as his hands grasped her bottom and pulled her up snugly against his loins. Mariah had never felt anything to compare with the hard ridge of his sex pressing against the soft place be­tween her thighs. A small sigh hummed through her

  mouth as he prodded it open with his tongue and pressed inside.

  She closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensations tumbling one upon another. He brought his hands around to her breasts, tweaking her nipples through the material of her gown. A strange wetness pooled between her thighs as his hands and lips worked their magic on her. Her hips rocked against him of their own accord, as if rid­ing to some unknown melody. At that moment she would have done anything he asked of her.

  Sir Knight broke off the kiss. Mariah murmured a protest. "You're very good at this," she said breathlessly.

  "I am, aren't I?" His lightheadedness dissolved as he lifted her away from him and sat up.r />
  "Did I do something wrong?" Mariah asked. "Was I too bold?"

  "Too bold? Oh, nay, sweeting. This place is too dan­gerous for what I have in mind."

  He helped her to her feet, brought her against him and kissed her hard. "Come to me tonight," he whispered against her lips. "Let me finish what we started."

  Chapter 3

  Wearing naught but a chamber robe over her nakedness, Mariah sat curled up in a chair, staring into the dying em­bers in the hearth. The hour was late; the castle had set­tled down for the night, and the servants had long since gone to their beds. While Edmond slept soundly in the adjoining chamber, sleep was far from Mariah's mind.

  Come to me tonight, Sir Knight had said.

  That she even considered going to him surprised Mariah. His kisses had tempted her, made her aware of what she had missed in her marriage. Not that she regret­ted marrying Edmond. She loved him dearly. By his own admission, however, he didn't think of her as a wife, and bedding her had made him feel guilty, as if he were com­mitting a sin.

  Mariah tried to convince herself that going to Sir Knight's bed was a sacrifice she was only considering to save Mildenhall. But she was no fool. She wanted Sir Knight, not just for the son she needed but for herself. She wanted his passion. If she was to experience passion only one time in her life, she wanted it to be with Sir Knight.

  Marian heard the chapel bell toll Matins. As if in a daze, she rose and left the solar, irresistibly drawn by Sir Knight's promise of pleasure. No one saw her; no one heard her footsteps whispering along the corridor. She paused before Sir Knight's closed door, fearing she was making a mistake but unable to retreat now that she had come this far.

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  Falcon lit another candle when the first one sputtered out. Would Mariah come to him? he wondered for the hun­dreds time since he'd left to seek his bed. Besides recov­ering his memory, making love to Mariah was what he most wanted ... needed ... craved. Mariah was an enigma. Her seductive innocence appealed to him. She seemed refreshingly unaware of her own sexuality. It was clear to him that she was a stranger to passion. Even her kisses had been childlike, until he had shown her how one's tongue came into play in a passionate kiss.

  It was late, past Matins. Falcon feared that Mariah would not come to him. He should have finished what he had begun in the woods earlier today instead of worrying about their safety. But he would never put Mariah in dan­ger. Nor would he have pursued her if she had been married instead of a widow. He didn't know how he knew that about himself, but he did. He was learning that he had lived his life by a code of honor.

  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 y
our 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.