Page 20 of King’s Knight

He smelled of ale and his words were slurred. Drunk. She might have known he and his friends would be celebrating the matches they’d won. Did he even know where he was? “Alex, you are in my bed, not your own.”

He closed his eye and sighed contentedly. “I am merely resting and I like it here.” He rubbed his cheek against her pillow. “It smells very pleasant.”

His measured breathing told her he had gone back to sleep.

She took in his masculine form. Even at rest he appeared formidable and so sensual that a part of her wanted to crawl in beside him. Shaking off the scandalous thought, she shook his shoulder. “You must wake up!”

This time both his eyes opened and he reached for her, his powerful arms pulling her onto the bed and drawing her tightly against him. “I do like you in your bowman’s attire,” he said, nuzzling her neck. He inhaled deeply. “You smell like a field of flowers.”

She tried to wiggle free of his embrace but his strength held her to him. “Alex! Stop this at once.”

“Do not scold, Merewyn,” he said, tightening his grip and brushing his lips over her neck. “I like having you here. So soft. Can you not stay?”

It would have been laughable had she not been concerned about what others might think and where this could lead if she did not stop him. “This is my bed, not yours, you fool!”

Ignoring her protest, he rolled on top of her and brought his mouth down upon hers. The moment his warm lips kissed her, she forgot her scolding. She could not bring herself to refuse what she had longed for. He tasted of ale, his warm lips easing hers apart. Slipping in his tongue, he gently explored her mouth. ’Twas alarming and wonderful at the same time. Small ripples of pleasure coursed through her and an ache formed deep in her woman’s center. With any other man she would have reached for her bow, but this was Alex. She did not fear him, as she would have another man.

She threaded her fingers through his thick raven hair, finally able to touch what she had so long admired. In a moment, she would pull away, she told herself.

He wiggled his hips until they parted her thighs. His hard arousal pressed between her legs, moving against her woman’s flesh. Only his hosen and hers separated them. “I want you, Merewyn.”

He knows who I am! Reason came back to her. She would have to be the one to stop this. Reining in the passion rising within her, she placed her hands on his shoulders and hissed, “Off! You must get off! This is unseemly.”

He took her hands from his shoulders and raised them above her head, threading his fingers through hers. Pinned by his body and secured by his hands, she could not move.

His mouth sought the tender flesh of her neck where he trailed kisses down her throat, the stubble on his chin tickling her sensitive skin.

“You do not want me to get off, I can tell,” he muttered. His speech was still slurred and she was not certain he was fully awake. But when his hips pressed into her causing her to sink deeper into the soft bed cushion, desire threatened to intoxicate her as surely as the ale had robbed him of his wits. “You are so warm and soft and smell so good,” he murmured against her throat.

His words roused her from the fog into which she was slipping. “And you smell like the bottom of an ale barrel,” she said shortly. Afraid she would soon succumb to his seduction if she did not move this instant, she brought her mouth to his ear. “Alex, ’tis my bed you are in and you were not invited.”

She must have reached him in his stupor, for he raised his head, looked into her eyes and blinked. “Not invited?”

“Nay,” she insisted as firmly as she could, meeting his startled gaze.

“Oh.” Shaking his head, he let go of her hands and pushed his weight from her to sit on the bed, leaving her aching and wanting for his touch, but resolved to see him gone.

As soon as she was free of his body, she pulled her legs beneath her and scrambled back away from him on the bed.

He flung his legs over the side and turned to look back at her, blinking again as if trying to focus. Casting a glance around the chamber, he spoke in a clear voice. “ ’Tis not mine.”

“I have been trying to tell you that, you drunken sot.” She was not really angry with him. Drunk, he had stumbled into the wrong chamber, but his nearness had stirred her senses, his kisses made her want more and her heart hammered in her chest with the excitement of touching him as a lover might.

With a deep sigh, he got to his feet and walked to the door. Turning to look at her, he said, “You are beautiful when disheveled, Merewyn, but ’tis quite apparent I am not wanted.”

He opened the door to leave and she bit her lip to keep from speaking.

He could not have been more wrong.

CHAPTER 4

Alex speared a piece of smoked salmon with his knife and popped it into his mouth, savoring the salty, somewhat oily taste before washing it down with ale. A few days had passed since the contests and he had finally recovered from his celebration, his appetite returning full force.

His mother, dressed in a ruby-colored gown, glided toward his table and he welcomed her to the seat beside him.

“Do you go to the practice yard this morning?” she asked.

“I cannot avoid it. Rory and Guy want a rematch from yesterday’s practice and some of the men-at-arms are itching to have a chance to trounce the three of us.”