Page 12 of Promise of a Knight
But if she didn’t... There was a convent waiting for her. Ending all that she’d come to find she enjoyed—court, the company of others, even their silly gossip, and one very fine, handsome knight.
Alex drained her wine, ignoring the burning path it made to her belly.
Now. Else she lost her nerve, or her meal all over the front of her dress.
Alex stood delicately, not making eye contact with anyone so as not to draw attention to herself. Especially not Alaric, though she felt his gaze burning into her back.
If this didn’t work, she’d not try again. Oh, dear heavens, why was she trying to begin with? Because her parents were still her guardians and they could and would imprison her for the rest of her life. That pushed her feet into forward motion.
The music, laughter and chatting drowned out the pounding of her heart, and she walked with surprising ease from the Great Hall without anyone stopping her.
Once in the dimly lit corridor, she let out a held breath and then hurried as fast as she could up the stairs toward the princess’ chamber.In and out. Quick. Simple. Take the necklace from the chest.Within her gown, her mother had sewn a secret pocket and she would slip the jewels in there, buttoning it up so they’d not fall out.
Reaching the floor of the princess’ chamber, she paused a moment to make certain she was alone. The corridor was dimly lit by only a few sconces. She could smell the damp muskiness of the stones and long tapestried runner in the center of the hall floor. Thankfully, there were no guards outside Princess Margaret’s chamber, else she would have had to come up with some clever ruse as to why she needed to get inside, and then an even cleverer lie as to why the jewels went missing after she’d done so.
Alex’s footsteps echoed on the wooden planked floor as she kept to the side near the wall. She reached the door, touched the handle, twisted.
“What are you doing, my lady?”
She jumped so high, she might have hit her head on the ceiling. Well, maybe if she were taller, but all the same, she fairly leapt out of her skin. Whirling around, the imposing figure of the knight she’d been avoiding loomed close. Too close. She could smell the spicy, woodsy scent of him. A fragrance she breathed in deep and burned to memory.
“Alaric,” she gasped. “Why have ye followed me?”
“You looked unwell. I wanted to check on you.” In the dim light she watched his eyes squint as he assessed her.
Could he read her so easily? Know that she was about to do something treasonous?
Alex tried to flash a disarming smile, wiping at a make-believe piece of hair tickling her cheek. “Shouldn’t ye be guarding yer princess?”
“I believe her betrothed, the king, has that well in hand.” Alaric leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his massive chest. So causal he looked. So in control.
Alex crossed her arms over her middle, trying to catch her breath, then quickly forced her hands to her sides realizing she’d taken a protective stance. “Then hadn’t ye best hasten back to England? Northumbria is where ye’re from if I remember correctly.”
Alaric chuckled. “That is correct. But Castle De Garde has been standing for many hundreds of years. My brother runs it well. A few more days without me will not make it fall.”
Alex humphed, not getting her way. And yet, she was relieved. She didn’t really want him to leave. Not at all. “Yer family is verra old?”
“Mmhmm. As is yours?”
“Aye.” She chewed her lip, wondering how in blazes she was going to get him away from her. This was the best chance she had. She wanted so desperately to be done with this vile business. For her sanity’s sake. Margaret would be sad that her necklace was taken and Alex would likely feel the guilt of it for the rest of her days.
Alaric stepped closer, still casually leaning against the wall, but his presence, it was crowding her sense and sensibility. “You haven’t answered the question.”
Alex kept her feet rooted in place even though she wanted to take a step back. The knight’s frame was large, broad and muscular. He didn’t wear armor tonight, but a doublet in red and gold and a brooch with a lion head over his heart. She wanted to trace that wolf. Alaric was a lot like the animal. Leashed power that, if let go, would tear into his enemies. Into her.
She didn’t want to be his enemy. Nay, quite the opposite.
“What question?” she whispered, her gaze riveted on the lion.
He stepped even closer to her. “What are you doing—here at Princess Margaret’s rooms?”
Alex shook her head just the tiniest bit, not wanting to tell him. Refusing. And not knowing what else to say.
“Sneaking about?” His tone was teasing, though his eyes searched hers for answers. “Should I be suspicious of you, my lady? You did confess to being a mischief maker.”
Alex swallowed, shook her head. Then she did touch the lion head, felt the coolness of the metal beneath her fingertip, and a shiver raced up her arm. The princess’ necklace was now the furthest thing from her mind. All she could think of was Alaric. Of his want to ravish her. Of her need to be ravished. Of his lips.
And then she was closing the distance between them, leaning up on tiptoe, her eyes dipping closed. Her mouth touching his.
At first he stood there, still as stone, as she pressed herself against him, breathed in his invigorating, masculine scent, a hint of sandalwood and bergamot. But a hitched breath later, his arms were encircling her. Lifting her further against him, closer to his exploring mouth—the taste of wine and spice vibrant and intoxicating.
Alex sighed, whimpered, lips parting, nearly fainting when he slipped his velvet tongue into her mouth. The heat of it alone seared her. Her entire body filled with fire. She found her arms circling his neck, clinging to him. Never wanting this perfect kiss to end.
Alaric was gentle, yet demanding. And oh, saints, but she felt thoroughly enraptured.
Even as she kissed him, allowed him to kiss her back, allowed his hands to span the small of her back and trace the line of her ribs, to cup her cheek, and thread his fingers through her hair, she knew she was in deeper than she’d ever expected.
Kissing Alaric was a sin. A depravity to be certain. If they were caught, she’d be labeled a harlot and her days at court… Oh, but she didn’t care. She wanted someone to catch her, to send her home, where she could hide away forever with the memory of this kiss for the rest of her days.
