Page 10 of Chivalry is Not Dead

“Gods, you are a creep.” Yet, it’s both of us, not just Leah, that tiptoe over to the bedroom door, cracking it open to get a peek at Sanders. Unsurprisingly, he hasn’t moved from where he was when we came in here, and he immediately clocks us staring.

“Need help in there?” he asks, with the smallest of smirks. Is he… making a joke? I thought my knight—no, not my knight—was the strong, serious type.

I hold out the bag of socks in my hand. “We have socks.”

He quirks his eyebrow, and I’m mesmerized by that one small movement. “They are like stockings?”

“Whatever you want to call them is fine by me,” Leah answers, giving Sanders a wink.

Alright, time for her to go.

“Sanders, you can use my bedroom to change out of your—suit? And Leah, you can leave.”

“And miss the show?” She moves around Sanders to plop down onto the couch. Two pillows tumble onto the ground. She doesn’t even notice.

“Leah! Get out of—wait. What show?”

Her grin is feral. “There’s no way he’s getting out of that on his own, am I right, knight?”

Sanders looks affronted. “I most certainly can get out of my armor on my own. It will just take time… and it is generally easier with a squire.” By the time he finishes his sentence, I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I will be helping Sir Alisander undress.

I sigh. Leah giggles. Sanders blushes.

Fantastic.

“Turn around,” I command. He does so, loosening his gauntlets and some of the straps on his arms. There are buckles on his shoulders and around his lower back that would be nearly impossible for him to reach. I do my best to unhook them without invading his personal space. Once I’m done, he removes the rest of his armor, leaving his chainmail over what looks like a few more layers of clothes.

“Gods, are you hot all the time?” I balk, admiring the quilted piece I can see under his chainmail.

“Penny, how bold of you!” Leah cackles.

Shit. “No! I mean like temperature hot, not looks hot, though you are looks hot too that’s for sure but I wasn’t talking about that it’s just a lot of layers and oh my gods I’m babbling, Leah shut me up!”

She’s zero help, having returned to sobbing fits of giggles on my couch.

Sanders traces my blush with his bare hand, a look of fascination and, is that determination in his eyes? “Do not be embarrassed, Lady Penelope. I do not understand most of what you just said.”

“That’s”—gulp—“good.” Fuck he’s close now. “That’s good,” I repeat, at a whisper this time.

He stares at me a beat too long before his eyes dart over to Leah, and he pulls back. “This layer is heavy,” he says, indicating the chainmail. “I have to let it slide off me like this.” He bows forward and it clinks as it slides down to the ground.

So. Fucking. Slowly.

Or maybe it just feels like slow motion in my mind as I see the smallest sliver of Sanders’ obliques that disappears so soon as the chainmail is finally off and he rights himself.

“Very impressive,” I mumble. “Water. I need some water. Sanders the, uhm, rest of your clothes are, uh, in my room. You can change in there. Door doesn’t lock but Leah will respect your privacy.”

“Like hell I wi—oomph.” I cut Leah off, covering her mouth and dragging her to the kitchen with me.

“For real this time, you need to leave,” I whisper-yell, checking to make sure Sanders is going into my room.

She holds her hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll go. But I won’t be happy about it. You have to give me every juicy detail of what happens tonight, Penelope Graves.”

“Nothing is going to happen!” I screech.

“You’re screeching.” She cocks her hip to the side and crosses her arms across her chest, staring at me with that look that shows she knows I’m lying.

“I’m not screeching!” I screech. Clearing my throat, I lower it as deep as I can. “I’m not screeching,” I try again.