The Knight Read online

He let her go—for now. But he had no intention of letting her walk away from him forever. He loved her and damn it, he would do whatever he had to do to get her back.

  “Is something wrong?” Sir David asked as he was leading her back to the bench at the dais. “Was the dance too much?”

  Joanna glanced up into his concerned gaze and managed a small smile. “The dance was perfect. The reel is my favorite.”

  Another song started up, and he had to raise his voice over the lively tunes of the musicians. “Then is it something else? Are your injuries hurting you, are you in pain—”

  She stopped him with a touch on the arm. “I’m perfectly hale. Truly, there is nothing to worry about.”

  Unconsciously, she scanned the room, relaxing only once she assured herself that he wasn’t here. Had he really gone so easily? She hoped so. Of course she did.

  Sir David studied her with a pinched brow. “Do you know that’s about the tenth time since you arrived that you’ve looked around the Hall like the bogeyman is about to jump out?”

  She was about to lift her thumb to her mouth, but bit her lip instead. “It is?”

  He nodded, patiently waiting—not demanding—for her to continue. She heaved a deep sigh and told him. “James came to see me after you left.”

  She could feel him tense at her side. Every muscle in his body seemed to flare. Apparently, in addition to the instinct to rescue, the urge to defend and protect ran just as strong in him. Knights! It must have something to do with the sword and armor.

  But he bit back whatever threats had sprung to his lips and took her hand, pulling her toward a quieter corner in the Hall near the edge of the wooden screen behind the dais. “Are you all right?”

  No, she wasn’t all right. The shaking inside that had started the moment she’d left James standing by the burn still threatened to shatter her carefully constructed resolve. It had taken everything she had to watch him ride away without a backward glance and not fall into a sobbing heap at her cousin’s feet. Seeing him again, hearing his words of love, and then seeing the shock and hurt when he realized she would not be swayed, had taken every ounce of her resolve. When it was over she felt spent, utterly drained, and weak.

  She’d done the right thing, but never had she imagined how hard it would be to do it.

  James had been everything to her for so long; seeing him again had brought it all back. The love she’d once had for him was gone, but vestiges of it remained in her memories—and in her body. Aye, her physical reaction to him was just as strong as it had been before. Her nerve endings didn’t know they shouldn’t flare, her skin didn’t know it shouldn’t tighten, her cheeks didn’t know they shouldn’t flush, and her nipples didn’t know they shouldn’t harden.

  She couldn’t see that tall, strong body and not remember how solid it felt on top of her—how he felt surging inside her. The memory of his skin sliding against hers, the heat of his body, the feel of the hard muscles under her hands…

  Longing rose up sharply in her chest and pinched.

  Every time he’d touched her earlier had been torture. She was so used to touching him back, she’d had to grabs fistfuls of her skirts to prevent herself from doing so.

  But she’d done it. She’d confronted him and weathered the storm of emotions. She was battered perhaps, but still standing.

  It was for the best. She’d meant what she said: James Douglas was her past. Today she’d taken the final step in making that a reality.

  Sir David’s concern and care for her feelings touched her. “I will be fine,” she said, realizing it was the truth. “It was difficult, but it had to be done at some point.” She managed another smile. “Frankly, I’m glad to have it over with.”

  Something hardened in Sir David’s expression. He was looking over her shoulder at the Hall behind them. “Maybe not as over with as you’d hoped.”

  She turned and her heart caught. Staring at them with the black, deadly look on his face that had earned him his epithet was James.

  He strode toward them—stormed, more accurately—practically shoving people out of his way as he wound through the celebrating crowd.

  Her valiant protector Sir David courageously, if not wisely, took her hand and stood beside her to face the imposing warrior, who looked more like an avenging demon.

  James had not missed the possessive gesture and she could see his eyes flare with rage. Jealous rage. Knowing she had to diffuse the situation, she carefully detached her hand from Sir David’s and squared to meet James who had stopped a few feet away. He looked like he wanted to slam his fist against Sir David’s jaw, but fortunately he’d managed to exercise some semblance of control, and his gauntleted fists remained in tight balls at this side.

  “Touch her again, and I’ll kill you,” he said in a low voice.

  Sir David didn’t react to the threat, though they all knew it was not an idle one. “Sod off, Douglas. If the lady does not want me to touch her, she’ll tell me. You have nothing to say about it.”

  Joanna groaned inwardly. Dear God, Sir David was going to make this worse. She would not be responsible for these two men coming to blows. “What are you doing here, James? I said everything I had to say. I told you I didn’t wish to see you again.”

  “You didn’t mean that.”

  Joanna belied that claim with a silent stare.

  James’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should ask you what you are doing here? I thought there was nothing between you? It sure as hell doesn’t look that way to me.”

  “Not everyone is as big a fool as you, Douglas. Don’t blame me for recognizing a treasure when I see one.”

  James made a sound like a low growl in his throat and took a step toward the other man, but Joanna stepped between them. “What is it that you want, James? Say what you have to say and then leave.”

  He looked at her so incredulously and so full of hurt, her spine shook from the effort to keep straight.

  “Come on, Jo.” His voice had taken on a soft pleading tone she’d never heard before. “Don’t be like this. It isn’t you.”

  Joanna turned to Sir David. “Will you give us a moment please?”

  The younger knight looked back and forth between them. Though his expression said it was the last thing he wanted to do, he nodded. Joanna breathed a sigh of relief when he walked away.

  But the tension remained.

  James watched him disappear into the crowd with a narrowed gaze, and then turned to her. Before she could protest, he took her by the arm and dragged her behind the partition.

  It was dark. The small space served as a storage area for the trestle tables when they were put away as they were now. There wasn’t much space, but he didn’t need any.

  No sooner had they disappeared from view of the Hall than he spun her around, pushed her up against the stone wall behind her, and slammed his mouth on hers.

  Her gasp of shock was swallowed in the initial onslaught of sensation. Hot, drenching, needy sensation. Surely, it was surprise that explained how her mouth instinctively opened and how her body melted into the strokes of his tongue. Of course it was. His big, hard body pressed against hers, hot and heavy, enveloping her in heat and virile male, leaving her nowhere to go.

  Her senses were drowning in him. The warm, spicy taste of clove, the soapy scent of his always freshly bathed skin, the scent of heather that lingered on his surcoat. Passion rose up like a maelstrom inside her, threatening to drag her under. But she tamped it down before the urge—the need—to respond took over.

  “No!” she murmured against his pillaging mouth. Putting two hands on his shoulders, she gave him a hard shove. “No!”

  This time the word was formed enough to be heard. He released her, stepping back to give her a few inches of space, but still looming over her.

  “How dare you!” she seethed, her chest heaving as she fought to take in air.

  He met her anger full on, returning it with a fierce glare. “You are mine, Jo. Mine.”

&nbs