A Knight Of Desire (Knights of Passion) by Evie North Page A

rub of his thigh as they moved closer on the bench seat. If there had been less people about them she might have ran her fingers along his well muscled leg, caressing the bulge she was sure was even now growing within his breeches. If they were alone, she would have knelt before him on the floor as she unlaced him, slowly, taking her time, and then leaning forward to cover the hard length of him with her mouth. . .
    “Lady?”
    Annalise blinked. The servant was holding out the wine jug, asking her if she wanted more, and here she was having carnal daydreams. It had been many months since she’d had a man, almost a year. On her estate, as she’d told Fitzallen truthfully, she lived quietly and modestly. It was only when she came to court, or when Matilda asked for her help, that she allowed herself the pleasure of being with a man and satisfying her lusts.
    And Annalise had grown to realise she was a woman with a great deal to satisfy.
    Fitzallen reached for his own goblet, his hand pressing momentarily against her breast. It was cleverly done, no one would have noticed, but Annalise felt a tremor of desire, her breasts growing heavy, her nipples tightening painfully hard.
    “You are flushed, lady,” he murmured in her ear , stirring her veil.
    “I am a little . . . hot, my lord.”
    His eyes gleamed. “I am weary of the noise in here. Perhaps, if you feel faint, I should help you to somewhere quieter. More private?”
    Annalise smiled and reached to take his arm. “Please, my lord, if you will be so kind. I may even need to lie down.”
    ***
    His body was well muscled, apart from the myriad of nicks and scars from the battles he’d fought. Annalise murmured praise of this big strong man, letting him see her growing desire, touching him, stroking him. She was one of Queen Matilda’s spies, and she’d learned to play a part, to put her real thoughts and feelings in a little place far to the back of her mind.
    But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself.
    Even so, this felt different. More intense. This man seemed different. For the first time in her life she felt a little out of her depth.
    “You are very beautiful, lady,” he murmured in his rich deep voice. “You should come to court more often.”
    “ A widow must be careful, my lord. She must preserve her reputation.” She said it modestly, her eyes downcast, and yet her lips were smiling.
    He’d removed her over-tunic, and admired the silken under garment. Her breasts were plainly etched beneath it, and he made a sound in his throat of pleasure and admiration. Annalise was well aware she was beautiful, and attractive to men, and she’d learned that they preferred boldness to her playing at being the coy innocent. Now she cupped her own breasts, fingering the hardening buds of her nipples, and smiling up at him.
    “I am very lonely, sometimes,” she said huskily.
    His expression had hardened with his passion, and he took a step toward her and then another, pressing his body to hers, forcing her to move backwards to the bed. She felt the mattress against her thighs and then he was running his hands down her half clothed body, while his mouth came down heavy and hot against hers.
    She kissed him back just as strongly, tangling her tongue with his, but a part of her was aware of what was happening. She could not afford to lose herself in the moment, no matter how passionate it was. She must always be on the alert. Perhaps that was why she rarely felt completely satisfied. There was always a part of her that remained separate from the act.
    He slid his hand under her skirts, stroking her thighs, fingers finding her slippery sex. Annalise moaned as he slid them inside her, at the same time circling her clit with his thumb. Her head went fuzzy and she took a shaky breath, but he wasn’t about to give her pause. He was removing her clothing with practised ease, and a moment later she was on her back on the bed.
    Annalise let him touch her, his tongue