Free A Knight In Her Bed by Evie North

 
    A KNIGHT IN HER BED
     
     
     
    1151AD
     
    Juliet was hungry. She’d gone without food for three days now and her body was weak, her head spinning. There had been times before when she did not eat but that was when she was younger. Tougher. The softer life she’d been living, travelling with a band of minstrels and staying in grand castles, had made her lax.
    A campfire burned brightly in a space between the torched houses. What had once been a village was now ash and despair, and the destroyers were feasting in the middle of it.
    Dark eyes narrowed she crept closer, watchful, knowing her life depended upon her fleetness of foot. The men were drunk, laughing, some of them curled up to sleep wherever they fell. She knew she should wait longer, until they were all asleep, but her belly was rumbling and her head light as air, and she thought if she waited any longer she may collapse where she stood.
    It was time.
    Juliet took a step and then another. Slowly she approached the campfire, finally getting down on her belly and inching forward. She had her sight set on a haversack just beyond the light of the campfire. The men had been removing foodstuffs from it and her mouth watered with anticipation as she crept across the uneven ground.
    Cautiously she edged forward, until her hand was on the haversack. She began to tug it backwards, slowly, slowly, her arm trembling at the weight of it.
    “Hey! Thief!”
    The accusing voice was very loud. The men were lurching to their feet, glaring around, fumbling for weapons with drunken hands. The one who’d given the alarm was moving toward her and his mouth looked ugly in the firelight.
    Juliet jumped up.
    When t hey saw it was a woman they stopped, but she knew it wouldn’t be for long. In war torn England women alone at night were good for one thing only. She must surprise them and give herself time to get away.
    She gave a loud clap of her hands and then she began to turn cartwheels. Over and over, her legs in the air, her skirts and long dark hair tumbling about her, as she wheeled back the way she’d come. Into the safety of the shadows.
    The only view she had of the men, as she spun, was their surprised faces. As soon as she reached the shadows she jumped to her feet and began to run. She knew that in a heartbeat they’d be behind her, baying like hunting hounds.
    But Juliet had overestimated her physical strength. Legs wobbling, head spinning, heart pounding, she stumbled against the blackened wall of a building. She knew in a moment they’d be on her and she wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.
    When the hand grasped her arm she thought it was one of them and turned to face him, determined to fight to the last.
    “Very clever, mademoiselle.”
    His voice stopped her. It was soft and husky, and she saw at once that he wasn’t one of the men from the campfire. There was enough light from the moon and stars to show her his fine clothing—his jewelled sword-belt and leather gloves—although his bowed face was in shadow. This was someone important.
    A lord then . A gentleman. Although in Juliet’s experience they were often worse than their underlings.
    “Let me go,” she said quietly, more of a command than a plea.
    Soft laughter. “I don’t think so.” He caught her as she tried to escape, swinging her back into his arms, his hand momentarily covering the swell of her breast.
    They both froze, then his hand automatically tightened and Juliet felt dizzy. Not from pain but from something unexpected. Desire. Perhaps it was because of the life threatening moment she was in, and the way his voice sent shivers down her spine. But it was definitely desire. Her nipple tightened, stabbing his palm. She became aware of the steady beat of his heart against her back, and then the sigh of his breath. And just for a moment his hold turned into a caress, his thumb brushing over the hard bud, turning her knees to water.
    “She’s here, she’s here!” The hound pack