Knight of Deceit (Knights of Passion Series 2) Read Free

down and pressing her hand to his breeches, feeling the hard length of his cock. Sir Walter was more than ready.
    He was tugging up her skirts, caressing her bare thighs, and then his hand was where she wanted it . Fondling her slick folds until she was unbearably swollen and aching for him to fill her. His mouth drew on hers, taking her soft moans, increasing her passion with the stroke of his tongue.
    Her hand s ought the fastenings of his breeches. He didn’t demur—perhaps he believed Margaret to be more experienced than she was. Maven’s mistress was a flirt and sometimes played a role beyond her years and experience, but Maven knew her to be far too canny to give up her maidenhead without a priest’s blessing.
    His cock was in her hand and she enjoyed the hard length of it. He moved against her with a groan. Maven couldn’t remember her orders anymore and even if she did she no longer cared what they were. When he began lifting her onto a fern covered bank she did not demur, and when he nudged her legs apart she raised her hips eagerly. His cock was at her slick entrance and he eased himself inside her, slowly at first, as if expecting resistance. But of course there was none. Maven wasn’t a maid and there was little point in pretending she was. A man like this would know she was play-acting.
    Margaret would be angry with her. The thought popped into her head, breaking through her haze of desire, and Maven attempted to stop herself. But it was too late. Far too late. Her body was making its own demands. The gathering storm of her climax meant she no longer cared about her orders or Margaret or the trouble she could bring down upon them all. Her heart was set on having this man deep inside her.
    She arched against him, clinging to him, aware of the thrust of his body inside hers. She kissed his neck, finding the hollow there, remembering how she had often secretly gazed upon that place when Barlow was nearby. He lifted his head with a groan and she felt the beginnings of the end, rippling through her, causing her muscles to contract and her heart to beat harder.
    A moment later he cried out and spilled into her, and she gasped and held him as she was catapulted into ecstasy.
    *
    Maven gazed up at the green canopy above her, listening to the birds. The man still joined to her was stroking her hair, his face against hers, and it seemed for a moment as if their breaths were perfectly synchronised. This was more than a fumble. This was something so special she struggled to find the words.
    Was it the ring? she asked herself. Has Master Keevil put some spell upon me apart from the one he stated?
    “Will we meet again?” she murmured aloud.
    He lifted his head and it was Sir Walter’s pock-marked face above her, his pale eyes, and yet at the same time it was not. Once again his face wavered and for a moment, just a moment, it was Barlow gazing down upon her.
    Startled , she tried to rise but he had already become Sir Walter again. Her heart was deceiving her, she thought, by turning the knight into the squire. He sat up and straightened his clothing, and with shaking hands she pulled down her own skirts.
    W hat have I done? Margaret would be furious with her. She was supposed to lead Sir Walter along with promises and temptation, not give in at the first opportunity!
    “Tonight,” he said gruffly, standing before her. “I will arrange it.”
    “I thought we were too well guarded,” she replied, and couldn’t keep the misery from her voice. “Soon we will be in England and gone.”
    “You do not need to go,” he reminded her , and suddenly there was an urgency in his voice, in the hand he clasped about hers as he helped her to her feet. “If you agree to come with me, I will take you away into the north. By the time they . . . your father discovers we have fled it will be too late.”
    Maven felt her heart lift like a bird flying. Yes! she thought. A moment later reality, like an arrow, brought her crashing