Knight of Deceit (Knights of Passion Series 2) by Evie North Page B

feathery curls on her mound. She was wet already—she couldn’t seem to help it—and whereas that may have given her away perhaps he wasn’t thinking straight either. He groaned and stroked her more strongly, easing his fingers inside her.
    Maven arched against him. It had been long since she’d felt desire like this for a man. Usually these subterfuges were simply unpleasant fumblings to be got over with as quickly as possible.
    “You are passionate, princess,” he said and s atisfaction filled his voice.
    Maven was passionate but Margaret was not, and it did not pay to be too careful. If he was suspicious then her best form of defence was attack.
    “Do n’t you like passionate women?” Maven asked him in her half sister’s imperious tone.
    He chuckled. “I did not say that.”
    His fingers continued to stroke and she felt her pearl swelling, her body aching with her need. She could sense his eyes on her in the darkness, and lifted her hand to touch his cheek, the skin freshly shaven. She could not feel the pock marks, but the fact that he had shaved for her when so many would not have bothered made her heart contract with emotion. And then she reminded herself that it was all a game. The sort of game an ambitious man might play to win his princess.
    His mouth was on hers again, hot and ardent, while his busy fingers continued to do their work. One more stroke and Maven felt the rush of her climax. She arched up, crying out softly against his lips, losing all thought of subterfuge in the pleasure washing over her.
    “Passionate indeed,” he murmured.
    Maven tried to regain her breath. She knew she must not allow him further liberties—Margaret had made that clear. When he tried to touch her again, she caught his hand in hers and said, “Please, sir, you must wait. I am a virgin. I cannot risk my chastity on a mere promise.”
    “ But a promise of so much,” he retorted swiftly, his voice ragged with unfulfilled desire. “We can travel to my lands and marry and take shelter there until your father the king allows us to return to court.”
    It sounded agreeable to Maven, but she was not Margaret.
    “I must consider these matters,” she prevaricated.
    “Of course you must,” he mocked , and then said, his fingers squeezing hers, “We will meet again tomorrow. I am travelling south to the border in your train.”
    “Tomorrow night?” Maven whispered hopefully , knowing the darkness was her friend.
    “Night is too risky. You will be guarded well by your father, and the English king has sent his watchdog, Sir Leonard. We will meet during the procession south. I will send you word. We will meet in the light of day and I will look into your eyes and see if you are telling me the truth.”
    *
    “He said what?” Margaret hissed.
    “He wants to look into your eyes and see the truth, my lady.”
    As Maven expected, Margaret was not happy. It was all very well to send Maven to do her dirty work but she did not want her own hands soiled.
    “I cannot meet him,” Margaret said, and suddenly she was more like a frightened girl than an imperious princess. “What if he expects more of me? You must do it, Maven.”
    “My lady—”
    “There is Master Keevil.”
    Maven ’s blue eyes grew very wide. Master Keevil was a magician and she had heard frightening things whispered about him. Margaret had been closeted with him before but never while Maven was present.
    “Send for him now and admit him as soon as he arrives. We must not delay.”
    Master Keevil was swift in his response. An hour later he stood in Margaret’s chamber awaiting her instructions. When she explained what they wanted of him he nodded sombrely and fingered his long beard. “It shall be done, my lady. I will send you a ring which your maid must wear when she meets Sir Walter. The ring will cast a spell and he will see you in her place. As soon as the ring is removed then she will be your maid once more.”
    Maven, standing trembling behind