A KNIGHT OF DESIRE
(KNIGHTS OF PASSION)
1153AD
Annalise slipped between the chattering guests in the White Tower and paused a moment as she caught sight of her quarry. Her heart began to beat a little faster. He was handsome, and his smile drew her like a moth to a candle, but she reminded herself to take care. Not to underestimate him.
Lord Fitzallen was a clever man, and he had been King Stephen’s man for many years now, since his family was killed in the early wars between Stephen and his cousin Matilda. Annalise had heard that there had been five orphans, brought together by the king, and trained to serve him. The other four were wed now, with lands to guard, but Fitzallen remained solitary.
Not that he didn’t have women. Annalise had seen the ladies swoon over him. In fact she was counting on his lusts to lure him into her trap. Many a man had turned his coat for the arms of a woman, she reminded herself, and Matilda and her son Henry were reckoning on her to be that woman. A man so close to the king, so important, could be crucial to their plans.
Fitzallen looked up at that moment and caught her eye.
His own darkened, and he smiled, the side of his mouth tilting up. It was a blatant invitation, and Annalise smiled back.
It ha s begun, she told herself, heart beating faster, as she watching him move toward her.
“Lady,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Will you join me at the feasting?”
She realised then that the servants were calling for them to move toward the eating area. “Have we been introduced?” she retorted, with a lift of her slim dark eyebrows.
“Fitzallen,” he gave a bow as he said it, and then looked up at her with a teasing grin. “But you know that, don’t you? I was told you asked for Fitzallen earlier, and I was pointed out to you. It just so happened the man you asked is a good friend of mine.”
Annalise gave a little shrug. “Your reputation precedes you, my lord. I was curious, I admit.”
“Curious about what, Lady Annalise.”
She hesitated, then rested her hand upon his arm as they moved toward the tables. “You know my name.”
“If a beautiful woman asks after me I am inclined to seek her out.”
They were seated, but Annalise hardly noticed her eating companions, her entire attention focussed on Fitzallen. He was the sort of man a woman couldn’t help but feel drawn to, as if he had an aura about him that was slowly and inexorably pulling her toward him. A sexual aura, certainly, because this close to him Annalise was beginning to feel her body hum in response.
The silk cloth of her under-tunic brushed against her breasts, sensitizing them, making her nipples stand up in invitation. She wondered if he could see, whether he knew. Whether he could smell the scent of her arousal even in this place, where perfumes were strong and the feast overpowering. She wriggled a little on her wooden seat, squeezing her thighs together tightly.
Soon, she promised herself, she would have him in her bed.
A servant filled their goblets with red wine, and Annalise sipped, smiling sideways at her companion when she saw him watching her mouth. She lapped a droplet of spilled wine from her lips with the tip of her tongue and felt him grow tense, his eyes fixed on her movement.
“You are married, my lord?” she ventured.
He shook his head. “I’ve never met a woman who was a perfect match for me, my lady. They are either too eager to please me, or too difficult for me to please them.”
“So you remain single and alone.”
“ You are married?” he asked, smiling to hide the new sharpness in his tone.
She could not blame him for being wary. Jealous husbands could be awkward.
“No, Lord Fitzallen. I am a widow and plan to stay that way. I have friends and relatives who are kind enough not to press me to marry again, and I live modestly on my estate.”
He was intrigued . Good. And he wanted her. She felt the brush of his arm against hers, and the
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