Free The Pleasure in Surrender (an erotic historical short story) by Delilah Devlin Page A

“What landless bastard commands such a force?”
    He sighed. “Perhaps you are right. However, I would sleep easier if you remained inside the walls—at least for the coming weeks,” he amended when she gave him a scowl.
    It rankled that her freedoms were curtailed by an upstart. Still, it was worrisome no one had answered her calls for assistance. Was he truly so imposing?
    Her answer came one morning when the mists melted away to reveal glints of the armor and weapons of the force that spread across the meadow below the castle’s dirt moat. Guards had alerted Sir Geade, who’d awoken her before dawn to tell her they had visitors.
    As she strode the length of the curtain wall peering down at the small army, she felt her first real frisson of unease. It seemed the knight hadn’t been bluffing after all.
    Another note was passed. She held out her hand for the message, broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment. After a quick glance, she ripped the message to bits, tossing it over the castle walls. She hoped Lord Grim’s eyesight was good, because she didn’t want her response to his demand that she open the gates missed.
    Indeed, a horse burst from the line of mounted knights and rushed forward to a spot well beyond her archers’ aim, where he reined in his horse and stared up at the curtain wall. The man astride the huge black warhorse fixed her with a glare she couldn’t miss despite the distance, and she shivered. Was it him? Good Lord, he was large, freakishly so, with shoulders made to appear even more broad by the black bear sash he wore over his armor. His arms were bared except for a wide golden band surrounding one thick bicep. His thighs were like tree trunks as he straddled his great warhorse. There was little she could tell about his face other than the strong jut of his chin and sinfully dark gaze hidden behind the nosepiece of his conical Viking helm. Long dark hair waved from beneath his helmet.
    As she gaze down, an unexpected thrill pulsed through her. Completely unwanted. Irresistibly mystifying. Why after all the suitors she’d ousted from her keep, did this one make her breath hitch? Edwina drew a deep breath and slowly shook her head. It was only the thrill of the challenge he presented. She lifted her chin and turned her back.
    Geade groaned beside her. “You’d add insult to your refusal?”
    “He bluffs,” she said with a wave of her hand even though she felt the giant’s wicked gaze burning on her back. “We have the advantage. My mother withstood my father for months. The walls are strong, our stores of foodstuffs and weapons replete—thanks to his warnings. We have only to outwait him.”
    Geade’s gaze went to the meadow; his gray brows furrowed with doubt. “I don’t think this knight will wage a gentleman’s campaign to win your heart, milady.”
    Edwina rolled her eyes. Her mother’s siege had been a woman’s ploy to force a husband she wanted to accede to her demands. And she’d won. She didn’t need the old grizzled knight who’d witnessed her mother’s strategy to remind her this time was far different.
    Still, a siege was a siege regardless of the motives of either side. “We will not open the gates to this barbarian. Our neighbors will learn of this outrage, and they will come to our rescue. That or Lord Alred will put a stop to the Viking’s campaign. I have his promise of protection.”
    Geade’s breath whistled between his pursed lips. “I think not, milady.”
    At the jerk of his chin, she turned to gaze beyond the line of the Viking’s contingent. Alred’s banners waved behind them.
    “He supports his suit?” she said, feeling faint.
    Geade snorted. “He’s likely come to enjoy the battle. The tale of your lady mother’s victory provided entertainment for years.”
    Edwina pressed her lips together, not liking the faint humor dancing in Geade’s eyes. “I’m not my mother, and I’m not withholding my hand to ensure that I keep my wealth