Page 13 of King’s Knight

They drew next to the stables and it occurred to her she would like to see his great stallion. “Would you show me your horse, the huge black one you ride?”

“Aye, but you will have to approach him with care since you are new to him.”

Inside the long stable building, a lone candle burned in a copper lantern. At the entrance, a stable boy stirred in his sleep. Alex brought his finger to his lips and beckoned her farther into the stable’s depths.

Horses moved about in their stalls, a few looking over the ropes across the open doors as they passed, greeting them with soft nickers. Near the back of the stable on the right was a large stall. The black stallion raised his head over the rope and, seeing his master, nickered loudly, his ears coming forward.

Alex reached out and stroked the stallion’s neck. “Missed me, did you?” Then, looking at her, he said, “I acquired Azor in Normandy.”

“Will he let me touch his muzzle?” she asked, tentatively reaching out her hand.

“If you speak to him with soft words, aye.”

Merewyn loved horses but she was certain this one tolerated only one master. Gently, she ran her palm over the stallion’s soft muzzle and reaching up, slid her hand down his forehead. “You are a handsome fellow.” Like your master.

The light was dim but there were sparks in the stallion’s eyes as he raised his head. “He is magnificent,” she said. Larger than her Welsh pony, the black horse appeared to her a confident beast. “And I think he knows it,” she said with a small laugh.

Alex turned her to face him and placed his hands on her shoulders. “He does. He’s a proud beast like his master.”

She knew she should move away but his strong hands somehow anchored her feet to the ground. Before she fully understood his intent, he pulled her to him and set his lips upon hers, claiming a kiss she could not deny him. It was her first, long imagined and now realized.

His warm mouth moved over hers, the effect like strong wine, lulling her to ignore the objections her mind was shouting. She brought her hands to his arms feeling the muscles flexing beneath his tunic and hung on as he swept her into a swirling mist of sensations.

Her lips still sought his as he raised his head. “I have been wanting to do that since you first entered the hall tonight.”

“You would claim a woman’s kiss merely because you desire it?” Mayhap it worked with others, but she refused to be one of his conquests. Bringing her hands to his chest, she pushed him away. “You have grown presumptuous.” She knew of his reputation. Few, if any, women ever told him nay. ’Twas said the wenches who had gone to his bed did not leave disappointed. It made her angry to think they had some part of him she never would.

He drew close and whispered, “We were once friends, Merewyn. We could be more.”

She jerked her head back. “Nay, I will not be one of your women.” Angry with herself for so willingly falling into his arms, she stepped away. Even now, his nearness caused her heart to flutter in her chest and her body to want more of his kisses. “Are they all willing?”

“Most are, but I did not invite every woman to walk with me, Merewyn. Only you. ’Tis not all women I want.” He stepped closer. “But I do want you, Merewyn.”

His bold assumption that he might have her if he but wanted her was the final stroke. She turned on her heels and ran out of the stable.

CHAPTER 3

Alex slept well his first night home, glad to be in a bed and not on the ground. He woke with the memory of the kiss he had stolen from Merewyn. A very pleasant memory until he recalled her reaction. He might have acted too soon. Too, he must remember that she was the woman who, as a child, he had protected from the lust of others.

Her words of condemnation still rang in his ears. Was he so arrogant as to think he could have any woman? Possibly so. And Merewyn might fear becoming one of those nameless, faceless wenches and village girls he’d slept with on the way to becoming a knight, or the ladies who now willingly offered him their favors.

But she could never be one of those.

In the years she had been gone, she had grown into an alluring woman, but nothing like the women who typically came to his bed, experienced and willing.

She is an innocent.

He had an overwhelming desire to protect her, even from himself. But, as he determined to do so, the memory of the way she had responded to his kiss, a warm kitten in his arms, still lingered and his body stirred in response. Would she again open to his kiss? And if she did, would he take her as he wanted to or would he refrain with her innocence in mind?

His stomach growled, reminding him of other needs. Rising, he dressed in the shorter tunic he would wear to the sword fighting match.

After a hasty meal of bread and cheese and a few words with his father, he left the manor and strode through the palisade gate, drawn by the noise of people at play. Above him, the sun beamed down from a clear blue sky. The day would be warm.

Stretched out before him, covering the large expanse of green in front of the palisade, was a festival to rival those he had seen in Normandy. It appeared all of Talisand had arrived for the festivities.

To his right, the sword matches were just beginning. The clang of metal meeting metal resounded through the air as knights and men-at-arms tested their skill against each other in a circle set off by brightly colored pennons flapping in the breeze.

Alex looked briefly in that direction, noting Rory’s red head moving about as he squared off against the more senior Jamie. Alex would join them soon, but first he wanted to observe the archery contest. He had heard much about Merewyn’s skills. Now he would see them for himself.