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  DREAM KNIGHT

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, March 2004

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  PO Box 787

  Hudson, OH 44236-0787

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-841-3

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  DREAM KNIGHT © 2004 LOIS BONDE

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Heather Osborn.

  Cover art by Darrell King.

  Dream Knight

  Lois Bonde

  The Scottish Highlands - 1715

  If she hadn’t been covered with thick quilts and blankets, her limbs, trembling with fear and desperation, would have given her away. Catherine McLane had only napped fitfully the night before, but there was no possibility of her nodding off tonight.

  A creak from the wooden floor in the hall caused her to hold her breath, listening as uneven footsteps passed her door and faded away. That was the watchman making his rounds. Now! She had to go now. This was her only chance to escape.

  She rose and shook out the full skirt of the black mourning dress she’d worn to bed. Dark gray from multiple washings over the two years since her father died, it was the darkest and the sturdiest dress she owned. And in its faded condition, no one would guess the wearer was heir to the castle and her father’s entire estate.

  She pulled the covers up over a rolled quilt and poked the blankets to make them look as if she still slept in the center. Arranging a collar of red fox fur on the pillow, she prayed that it would resemble her own red hair. Mayhap the maid would think her sleeping late and not enter the room far enough to discover her deception. She would need every minute she could garner to get far away from the castle to some place safe where no one could find her. For a while at least.

  Tiptoeing to the trunk at the foot of her bed, she lifted the top and tensed when the aged hinges squeaked. She sucked in a quick breath and listened, but heard no one. This had to be how a frightened doe felt staring at the business end of a hunter’s crossbow.

  She pulled out the bundle she had prepared earlier that evening with a change of clothes and as many food stuffs as she could steal from the table without anyone noticing. She had wrapped it all in a tightly woven shawl and left long looped ties to hold it across her shoulders, leaving her hands free to manage her horse. She pulled on her sturdiest boots and tucked her dirk in the black sash tied around her waist.

  Moving by the moonlight that shone in the narrow windows of her bedroom, she grabbed a black shawl from the chair, and tied it over her hair. She pulled it forward over her face to cover the pale skin that would stand out in the night. Other than her own heart pounding rapidly, she heard only the summer wind meandering through the corridors in the drafty old castle.

  Maybe if the castle had been in better shape and her father’s coffers fuller, she would not have been promised in matrimony to their brute of a neighbor—the one man who would gain much from the addition of her lands to his own. She shivered to think of the giant coming to claim her. Thankful he had at least waited two years, she nevertheless resented the authority he had over her life. With her father dead and no other relative to protect her, she had to submit to the beast like a lamb to the slaughter.

  She hadn’t heard a good tale told about him. He was rumored to be taller than any normal man should be, with large beefy hands that could break a man’s neck without any effort, or a woman’s for that matter. Marion, the washerwoman, said that he had been known to bed a dozen women in one night and was still randy and ready for more come morning. The laundress had laughed, unaware that Catherine had overheard her randy conversation.

  Catherine wasn’t at all certain what a man would do with that many women in his bed, and wondered if it was whatever Nancy and the smithy were doing in the barn when she had walked in. They had been naked as the day they were born and not the least bit embarrassed by it. At first she’d thought poor Nancy must have been about crushed because the big man was lying right on top of her and insisting Nancy wrap her legs around his waist. Catherine remembered the earthy smells in the barn, the clean straw crunching beneath them. Nancy moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck as she locked her ankles behind his back. She clutched at his hair to pull his head down to hers. He kissed her and then his bare bum began to rise and fall. He moved slowly at first, then faster and faster.

  “Yes, yes,” Nancy had shouted. “Ride me harder, harder.”

  Catherine has been ready to run out of the barn before she was discovered, when all of a sudden, they were crying out like spectators at a jousting match rooting for the winning side. She’d felt a dampness between her legs from watching the couple. Instead of turning her off to the idea of marrying, watching the mating and how much they enjoyed it told her how much she would be missing when she married. She could expect no such exciting intimacies from her intended.

  She wouldn’t even maintain control over her father’s estate that was now rightfully her own. That would cease with the ceremony. The groom would merely incorporate her estate into his own that bordered hers on the north. When they wed, he would be owner and manager of all that was hers. It didn’t matter that she had run the castle and fed her people for two years without any help from anyone. She hated the idea of someone else being in charge, but she could do nothing to change it.

  But she could postpone it. She wouldn’t be in the castle tomorrow when the unwanted groom arrived. She wasn’t going to have him rob her of the virginity she’d been saving for a man she could love. She wanted someone to show her the ways of man and woman, someone of her choice, not the oaf she was to marry.

  Feeling her way along the stone wall, she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. She tiptoed past the scullery maid sleeping on her pallet on the floor, and pulled open the door to the bailey. Just as she slipped through it, she heard the clacking of one of the dog’s nails on the stone kitchen floor behind her. She had thought they were asleep on the rushes in the great hall.

  Her heart raced and she pushed on the door to be certain the latch caught. The dog had begun barking fiercely on the opposite side of the door. Panicking, she ran. She heard the maid yelling at the dog to shut up as she ducked through the arch that led to the gardens. Bending low, she kept running along the fence until she found the gate. She darted through it and was across the small open area to the pasture where their horses were kept in the summer.

  She clutched the top fence rail and swallowed hard against her dry throat. After two tries, she managed a low whistle. Moments later, she heard Toby come running. He’d been her pet and friend for ten years. He was getting old, but as long as she didn’t push him too hard, he was reliable and did her bidding. And his dark brown color was perfect for fleeing into the woods at night.

  She pulled out the carrot she had stashed in her pocket. “Come on, Toby. You’re my only hope now. You’ve got to get me away from here before that monster arrives.”

  He walked next to her on the other side of the fence until they reached the split oak where she pulled out the bridle she’d hidden that morning. In seconds she had it fastened on Toby’s head. But how could she mount him without assistance? She was tall for a woman, but not tall enough to get a leg over his bare back. In all her planning for her escape, she’d never thought of a block to stand on. Riding bareback and astride would be no problem. Getting up on Toby was.

  She looked around and saw the solution to he
r problem. By standing on the lower rail of the fence, she could lift one knee high enough to grab a handful of mane and pull herself up. Seating herself comfortably, she arranged her full skirt and petticoat and reined the horse toward the road heading north.

  After a mile or so she stopped and listened. She heard nothing but little sounds in the woods and the hoot of an owl. She allowed herself a smile. She had escaped. She was free to find love.

  * * * * *

  Sean Duncan tossed a log on the campfire and watched the sparks fly. He cursed his father for sending him off on such a cork-brained task. He was willing to do his part to ensure the family’s well-being, but marrying a young girl who was said to be so thin as to be hardly recognizable as a woman was not his idea of a fair share. But he could certainly see the wisdom of adding her lands to his own, so he was on his way to be wed. His strong sense of duty would allow no less.

  Once they were wed, he would own all of her lands adjacent to his. With the eventual addition of his father’s lands, he could make a formidable stand against any of the clans that might threaten them. Resigned, but not averse to stalling it a bit, he’d sent his retinue on ahead while he took his time.

  He tucked his kilt under his arse and sat against a huge chestnut. His dirk was safely tucked into his stockings and his sword lay at his side. He picked up his bottle of Scotch and drank deeply. Staring at the fire, he racked his brain for any excuse that could further delay his arrival at his bride’s castle. He had about given up when he heard the steady slow clumping of a horse’s hooves. Quickly shoving his pack under his blanket to give the impression that he was asleep, he darted into the dark woods with his sword.

  The horse passed within a few feet of him. He saw a rider slumped over its back, his arms hanging down on each side. Had he been accosted by a highwayman? Or was he feigning injury to get the upper hand?

  “Ho, there, friend,” Sean called out.

  The horse stopped, but the rider didn’t move. He could see now that his body was shrouded in dark blankets that went down to his boots. The man was lucky he hadn’t fallen off before now.

  Wary, Sean raised the tip of his sword and approached the horse. He heard a soft murmur, or was it a moan of pain? Using the tip of his sword, he lifted back the blanket shielding the rider’s head. A myriad of red curls sprang free, exposing a woman’s face that glowed in the firelight peeking through the trees.

  “By all that’s holy,” he murmured.

  He tapped her shoulder with the broad side of the sword, but she didn’t move. He could see that she was breathing and either sound asleep, drunk, or unconscious. Sheathing his sword, he led the horse to the stream by his campfire. He hobbled him so he could drink water and eat grass but not wander far. But what to do about the rider?

  He ought first to check to see if she was wounded, though he saw no evidence of blood or bruising. Lifting her from the horse was easy enough with a hand under each arm. He lowered her until her feet touched the ground. Her knees immediately began to buckle and she moaned. Mayhap she was injured after all. He swung her into his arms and carried her to his fire.

  She moaned again. Her soft complaints didn’t sound at all like she was in pain. He was glad of that. He couldn’t understand who would want to harm such a pretty little thing. He was startled when she suddenly wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled her cheek against the length of plaid crossing his chest.

  Feeling a tightening in his groin, he pushed her hair back from over her face and untied the shawl that had lost the battle to keep it confined. When he looked down carefully at her and saw the delicate features of a truly beautiful young woman, he drew in a quick breath. If only he could marry one as sweet as this, he thought sadly. Then he wouldn’t be taking his sweet time to get to his wedding. He’d be riding at a gallop, anxious to ride her just as hard and as fast. His cock surged and pressed against her soft breasts as he swallowed a groan.

  He cradled the back of her head with a hand, and lowered her carefully to his blanket. Searching for an injury, he felt thick layers of cloth wrapped around her chest. Was this a bandage over a wound? She might be bleeding under all that dark cloth. That would be reason enough for her unconscious state, and he had to find out before she lost too much blood.

  Seeing no buttons on the top of her dress, he slid the fabric off her creamy shoulders and located the laces criss-crossing down her back. Once they were loosened, he pulled her arms gently from the long sleeves, exposing the bindings he’d felt under her shift. Layer upon layer of coarse woven linen had been wrapped around her slender body. If she were injured, she would certainly be in pain when he lifted her again to unwind the linen. Considerate of her wellbeing, or so he told himself, he straddled her thighs with his legs to get in position, and pulled his dirk from his boot. Careful not to nick her smooth pale skin, he pulled the shift and linen up between her breasts and slit all the layers to the end of the wrap at her waist. The cut edges of the fabric leapt apart as the most beautiful, full, perfectly formed breasts he had ever seen bounced free from their confinement.

  “By the sword, why are such beautiful globes bound so tightly?”

  He took each breast in hand and lifted them, telling himself he was looking for any injury there. He had intended to let them go when he found none, but instead he caught the tips between his thumbs and forefingers and toyed with them. Instantly, they stood up high and firm as his rod followed suit.

  He jerked his hands away and swore a few succinct words, but they didn’t dampen his desire. Finding no wounds on her back to explain the binding, he set about pulling the sleeves of her dress back on. The task was impossible with her so soundly asleep. As he tried, she rolled over onto her side. Now she was so twisted in her dress that he had no hopes of dressing her properly.

  And her hip was gently pressing against his ballocks. Feeling too warm on the cool, early summer night, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

  “What have they done to you, lass?” he asked softly.

  Wanting to check elsewhere for an injury that would account for her still being unconscious, he lifted her skirts to the top of her thighs. He ran his hands gently up and down the creamy flesh on each one but found no wounds or broken bones. He reached for the skirts to pull them down, but his hand obeyed his desire, not his mental order to cover her. Instead, he exposed the auburn triangle visible below her twisted shift, and slid his hands under her shift and over her stomach. It was soft and pliable, not distended with signs of illness.

  Rolling her on her side to check her hips and pert little backside, he happily found no wounds anywhere. Reluctant to deprive himself of the beautiful sight, he held her hips lightly and lowered her onto her back. She moaned in her sleep and bent one leg up and away, opening herself intimately to him. Arching her back, she pressed herself against his hand, mumbling something that he couldn’t make out.

  He stopped breathing as the back of his fingers slid within her folds, a knuckle pressing against her moist well. Without thinking he lifted his thumb to caress the nub that stiffened under his touch.

  He drew in a deep breath and jerked his hand away from the heat he craved. What was the matter with him? He’d never had his way with a semi-conscious woman before and wasn’t going to start now. He jerked down the girl’s skirts and pulled up the bodice to cover her as best he could.

  With the girl stretched out between him and the fire, he lay down behind her, pulling up her blanket to cover them both. Before he could shut his eyes, she moved against him and pressed her backside into the kilt that was tented over his engorged cock.

  “Is this an invitation then?” he asked with a chuckle.

  She was obviously in the habit of sleeping with a man in the cozy fashion, and who was he not to accept her offer? Reaching under the blanket, he tugged up her skirt and petticoat until she was uncovered to her waist again. His kilt quickly pulled aside, he lifted her upper leg and slid his firm rod between her thighs.r />
  She moaned softly as his cock surged against her soft heat. He slid his hand around to her breast and softly kneaded the fullness. Nuzzling her bare shoulder, he laid a trail of kisses along her neck and her cheek.

  “Yesss,” she whispered and she twisted to press against his chest. Her head rolled toward the fire and then toward him. Her eyes fluttered open only to shut again as he kissed her lips softly and slid his hand downward. She was waking and wanted him. He would not disappoint her.

  Sliding his hand underneath her skirts, he found the soft moist folds he sought. She lay on her back, her thigh bent against his throbbing rod. His breath caught as he slipped his finger into her warmth. She was so tight, so hot. He couldn’t take much more of this. He circled and teased the hard nub until her body rocked in rhythm, inviting him to dance with her.

  He lifted her far knee over his hip so he faced her fully and pressed at the entrance to her warmth, his cock surging upward. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to slow down. She was driving him to a frenzied state he had never felt before. Her eyes were closed as if she still slept but never had he had a more cooperative woman. She raised her hand to hold his shoulder and she moved her hips to take the length of him within her. Her groan hissed between her teeth as she again whispered, “Yessss.”

  He leaned down to kiss her hard, grasped her hip, and thrust deep into her welcoming velvety depths.

  She cried out against the pain and pressed against his shoulders to free herself from his embrace. He froze as her eyes opened wide and saw his face an inch from her own.

  “By all that’s holy, you’re a virgin!” No wonder she looked so sweet, so innocent.

  He kissed her to smother her scream lest there be others within earshot. His cock throbbed within her. There was no turning back now. He would go mad if he stopped. His finger on her nub continued to do its magic as he kissed her, softer now, gentling her, arousing her, and finally getting a response in kind.