A medieval romance by
S.L. McKay
Excerpts from completed manuscript, June 2004
CHAPTER FIVE - Cont.
“The pallet is small as you say. We likely cannot sleep side by side.”
“Oh, no, you’re much too big. You’d take up the space and then some.”
“Right. So you’ll have to lay on top of me.”
“What?” Roses bloomed upon her cheeks. “When fish trade their fins for wings!”
“You’d prefer it the other way around?”
Her eyes darkened to sapphire. Lifting her chin, her eyes locked with his. “You truly are Norman swine!”
“French.”
“What?”
“I’m not from Normandy. I’m from Calais.”
“You are the Duke of Normandy’s minion.”
They were two feet apart. He stepped a foot closer.
“I am a knight in the service of King William of England, using your logic that makes me English!”
“No matter the adjective, you’re swine!”
His arm slaked around her waist and the inches separating them disappeared. She gasped as his heat and hardness surged into her. Repelled by her own attraction, she pushed her hands against the granite wall that was his chest.
“Unhand me, you-“
He lay a finger against her mouth. “Ah, don’t say it.” Eyes dark as night held hers. “Think twice before you assume to know me. I’ve not harmed a single hair on your head.” He moved his finger from her mouth to grasp a long wisp of her hair.
“Golden silk.” He whispered as he curled the skein around his finger and slowly unwound it before turning his eyes back to her face.
Her temper had subsided and she had ceased her struggling, having watched him touch her hair in a sensual yet oddly reverent way. She swallowed as his eyes captured hers much like his finger had just embraced her hair. A warm tingle shimmied from her breastbone to womb. Warm breath escaped from his chiseled mouth and caressed her cheek, causing her to wonder how it would feel to be kissed by those firm lips. Her mouth parted in invitation. As he leaned forward to oblige, her eyelids swooned, shuttering her from his probing gaze. Her pulse was racing, her breathing fast and shallow.
His mouth skimmed her mouth, her cheek. His breath kissed her ear. “It grows dark. I have a bedroll, Ariane, so you may have your pallet all to yourself.” He leaned back and reluctantly released her.
Her eyes flew open in time to see his knowing smile. She looked away, but not before he saw her confusion followed by anger. Her voice gave nothing away. "“Thank you, milord, for allowing a lady her privacy.”
“Privacy? I said nothing of privacy. I’ve no intention of letting you out of my sight.”
“But you said-“
“I wish for a goodnight’s sleep, which won’t happen if I have to keep one eye open to curb your temptation to vanish into the night. So, I’ll be spreading my blanket just inside your door.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear once more. “So sleep well, my sweet. We’ll be sharing our dreams, but not our bed -- not yet.”
She gasped. He chuckled.
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Copyright 2004 Susan McKay All Rights Reserved