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He set the flask aside and stood. He was still a little unsteady on his feet as he followed her to a large tree just beyond the tent. She drew him out of sight and then turned to face him, hoping her acting was half as good as Alyssa’s.
“I had no idea you were such a powerful knight,” she said, stepping closer to him until mere inches separated her chest from his. She looked up at him between her lashes, and moved her hand to his thigh. “I want you, my lord. I want you to… I want you to…” She tried to fo
rce herself to say the words, but they wouldn’t come. It didn’t matter to him. Her back slammed into a tree as he collided with her, squeezing her breast with bruising force as his squishy mouth covered hers. She fought revulsion. Her hand moved to his crotch and she squeezed his hardening package roughly. Most men would have complained about her harsh treatment of his prized possession, but Abbot merely growled into her mouth, and rubbed himself against her punishing hand.
He tore his mouth from hers. “You want me to hurt you, don’t you?”
No, you sadistic bastard, I want you to die a horrible death. She squeezed his crotch even harder. He flinched, but covered her hand with his own and encouraged her to apply even more force up and down his length. She was so gonna soak her hand in bleach for a week when this was over. Ew. Ew. Ew.
“You do drive me to distraction, milady,” he growled. He pulled her hand away so he could press his pelvis against hers, grunting even though several layers of clothing separated his gyrating hips from their prize. Lara threw a hand out to the side, praying Alyssa would keep her promise. Lord Abbot’s hand grabbed the coif on the back of her head and jerked her head to the side. He ran his slimy tongue up the side of her neck. His other hand was still bruising her breast. Did he really think a woman would enjoy this sort of treatment?
“There you are,” Alyssa’s voice sounded from beside the tree. “Lord Abbot, it’s time for the archery match to begin. I suppose my sister could not wait until after the wedding ceremony to express her gratitude.”
Abbot lifted his head. “Go away, Alyssa.” His hand was still on Lara’s breast, but he’d stopped gyrating against her at least.
“The final round will only take a few minutes and then you can get back to fondling my sister.”
He glanced down at Lara who was sure she was about to faint. She hadn’t taken a breath in a very long time as she attempted to keep herself from vomiting. She glanced at Alyssa who was glaring at her for not playing her part better. She had fondled the bastard’s disgusting junk. What more did the little schemer want?
Lara swallowed her revulsion and rocked her hips against Abbot’s rock hard erection. “Hurry, Christopher,” she purred. “I want to ride you, my stallion.” She’d be needing a large bar of soap to scrub the foul taste of those words from her tongue. Lara forced her hand between their bodies to squeeze his balls. “Hurry.” She shoved him away then, and he stumbled sideways into Alyssa.
“Hurry,” Alyssa repeated, shoving him in the direction of the arena.
“Hurry,” he grumbled. “Yes, I’ll hurry.”
He adjusted the bulge in his britches as he wound his way back to the tournament.
“That was disgusting,” Lara complained.
“But it will work,” she said. “Now, stand over there where the archers can see you, but the crowd cannot, and act suggestive. Hike up your skirt.”
“You have got to be kidding me!”
Alyssa gave her a strange look. “If you are implying that I jest, I assure you I am entirely serious.”
“I almost feel sorry for Lord Abbot. He stands no chance against you, sister.”
Alyssa’s only response was a wicked grin. She walked back to the tent, leaving Lara standing near the end of the courtyard. A target was now sitting about ten yards from Reece who was patiently waiting for a stiff-legged Sir Abbot to join him.
Abbot grabbed his bow from his squire. The lad’s eyes lowered to the bulge in Abbot’s fly, then widened. The boy bit his lip and turned around, quaking with silent laughter.
The announcer’s voice carried across the courtyard. “The final round shall commence. The target will be moved ten paces back after each successful round. The first to miss the target loses. Lord Abbot will launch the first arrow.”
A trumpet bugled and Lord Abbot adjusted his fly again before moving in line with the target. He lifted his bow, arrow in place and drew back the bowstring. Lara busied herself with shifting her breasts more comfortably in her bodice. She didn’t look up and wasn’t sure if he was watching her. There was a loud thwunk as the arrow struck the target. Applause followed. Apparently, Lara need to up her game.
Reece’s arrow easily found its mark and two men moved the target back. Abbot took his mark again. Lara took a deep breath, pulled the pins from her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders, tossing her hair to get it to fall into place. Thwunk. Abbot’s arrow hit the target. This wasn’t working at all.
“That was close,” the announcer said. “But he did hit the target.”
Had he almost missed? Maybe this stupid plan was working better than Lara thought.
Reece moved into position again. Lara tried not to stare at him, but the look of intensity on his handsome face stole her breath. He let the arrow fly. Thwunk.
A collective gasp was followed by a spattering of applause. Abbot glared at the audience and the applause died.
“Perfect shot,” the announcer said. The target was moved another ten paces back. Abbot took his aim again.
Lara dropped her handful of hairpins accidentally/on purpose and bent to pick them up. She caught her skirt to expose the back of her leg and wiggled her hips. Thwat.
Abbot swore loudly.
“That’s a miss,” the announcer proclaimed.
Abbot threw his bow on the ground. Reece took his mark. He steadied his arm, concentration unbreakable. Abbot charged toward him with his fist raised.
“Reg, behind you!” Lara called.
Reece ducked and elbowed Abbot in the gut. When Abbot flipped forward to cradle his injured midsection, Reece punched him hard in the jaw. Dazed, Abbot landed flat on his back. Ignoring the collective gasp from the audience, Reece lifted his bow, his bloodied knuckles steady. He let the arrow fly. Thwunk. The crowd broke into cheers. Lara couldn’t stop herself from racing in his direction.
She heard the announcer proclaim. “The winner of the third match and the tournament is Sir Reginald Ferguson.”
Reece tossed his bow aside and held his arms open to catch Lara in an exuberant embrace. He spun her around in his arms before lowering his head and claiming her mouth in a heated kiss. Reece... The cat calls from the audience faded into the background. Reece. For Lara, all the world—present and past—disappeared. There was only him. Reece. The time, the place didn’t matter. Only the man mattered. Reece’s heart thudded against hers, his arms comforting and strong around her. His lips tantalized her senses, stealing all coherent thought.
When he drew away, he was smiling and she was weak in the knees.
“You did it,” she said, smiling back.
“I don’t guess I ever mentioned being part of a champion archery team in college.”
She chuckled. “No, you did not mention that.”
His grin set her soul on fire. “So, I guess Reg and Eleanor are officially engaged.”
“I’m so happy for them. I think we should celebrate.”
She didn’t know how it was possible, but his grin widened.
“Congratulations,” Lord Clayton’s voice boomed from behind them. He extended a hand to Reece, who shook it vigorously. “I underestimated you, young man. You fought honorably. My daughter has permission to wed you.”
Reece’s arm tightened around Lara and she leaned against him, her heart light. “Thank you, sir,” Reece said. “I am anxious to make Eleanor my wife, but may I request that the wedding be postponed until tomorrow night?”
Lara looked up at him in question.
“Very well. We shall make the arrangements and move the ceremony to my hold.” Lord Clayton nodded curtly and went to the stables to collect his horse.
“Why do you wish to postpone the wedding?”
“We’ll have leapt by then. I’d hate to intrude upon something so special between Reg and Eleanor.”
She smiled. “It’s sweet of you to think of them.”
“We can still celebrate their engagement though.”
“No argument from me,” she said, letting her gaze wander
over his hard, masculine form. “There’s something about a champion knight that sets a woman all aflutter.”
“If I’d have known that, I’d have dressed like a tin can sooner.”
“I prefer you undressed actually,” she teased. She glanced over her shoulder and found Alyssa had Abbot’s head on her lap and was stroking his hair as she murmured to him. That sly girl didn’t miss a beat. Lara still couldn’t fathom how Alyssa could want him. So he had a castle. And money. And a title. So what? He was still a loser. A pig. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t stomach being in Christopher Abbot’s company a second longer.” Lara took Reece’s hand and they headed towards Toby who was bragging to Abbot’s squire about his superior training and the honorable knight he served.
“You look ravishing in that dress, Lara,” Reece whispered in her ear.
She flushed despite herself. “Thank you.”
“I need to ask Toby something. Would you wait here for a moment?”
She gave him a questioning look, but nodded. He spoke to Toby, got a vigorous pat on the back, and was handed the reins of his horse. Toby pointed out towards the east of the castle and patted Reece on the back again. Reece smiled at him in appreciation and then headed in Lara’s direction.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise. We’re going for a ride.”
She smiled. “A ride? Aren’t we going back to Clayton castle?”
“Just a little side trip. Someplace private.” He leaned closer and his warm breath stirred the fine hairs behind her ear. “To celebrate.”
