Read Online A Knight in Tarnished Armor by Jill Barnett - Free Book Online
Authors: Jill Barnett
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a catapult, he kicked William square in the belly and he doubled over and saw stars. A second later he tumbled backward and down the ravine.
Jagged rocks jabbed his shoulders, his back, his legs. He grunted. Bracken and sharp roots scratched his face and neck. He curled into a tight ball to keep from catching a limb and breaking bones.
Down he fell, faster and farther. Down, over more sharp granite edges and rough thorny bushes. Down until a mud pit stopped him. He lay there, mud oozing around him, the world spinning, and more stars than Linnet could count shooting past his vision. He didn't move for the longest time. He took one breath, then another, very slowly.
"William?" She was looking down from the edge of the roadside.
He opened his mouth.
"William, please. Answer me!"
He tried to speak. A moan came out.
"William? I'm coming down there."
"No!" he croaked.
Too late. Her muddy slippers crept over the edge and an instant later she was sliding down the hill on her backside, a fall of flaming red hair flying out behind her. "Ouch!"
He closed his eyes and mentally cursed.
"Oh!"
He heard the sound of tearing fabric.
"Heavens!"
Gravel rained down on him.
"Uh-oh!"
He could hear Linnet crashing through the bushes and winced. Before he could take another breath, she hit him with a grunt. He lay there, eyes closed, Linnet sprawled atop him. Her chest and belly were pressed against his and her legs lay between his own. He could feel her heart beating faster and louder than thundering horses.
Her nose was against his chest and her hair fanned out, twigs and leaves tangled in it. Slowly she raised her head and shook it. Leaves flew out and a twig slapped him in the chin. She shoved her hair out of her face and stared down at him. One small hand reached out to gently cup his cheek. "Are you terribly wounded?" she asked.
"Only my pride."
She whispered his name again, relief in her voice. Her lips were there. An inch away. He told himself not yet. But her body was soft and he wanted her. God, how he wanted her! He relied on pure concentrated determination to control himself. He closed his eyes, which only heightened his sense of smell, sound, and touch. Other than sight, that left one more sensation—taste. How would she taste?
He opened his eyes. There were tears in hers. Real tears. Worried tears. God's teeth. There was only so much a man could take. His mouth was on hers an instant later, his hand splayed across the back of her head, holding her to him. She went even softer against him, as if his kiss made her weak. He stroked her lips with his tongue and she gave a quiet gasp of surprise. His tongue sank into her sweet mouth, filled it, and the kiss was just as he'd thought.
She tasted of honey, of fire, and of everything he ever could need. His other hand slid over her shoulder and slowly down her slim back to caress her bottom. She moaned against the strength of his tongue. He held her hard against him and rolled with her, pressing her back into the soft mud, his mouth taking hers sweetly but firmly, mimicking the way he wanted to take her body—in long, slow strokes that lasted forever.
With her beneath him he pressed closer, feeling her sink into the mud but not caring, because she moaned against his mouth and gripped his shoulders. She didn't push him away. She held him fast and kept her mouth open, her curious tongue moving in answer to his. He shifted his hips, rocking slowly against her in a steady rhythm as old as time.
It was happening too fast. Too strong. Too out of control. He fought with himself, fought his primal urge and reason. He drew his mouth away, his breath coming as fast as his passion did. He looked down into those eyes, those wild golden eyes that looked up at him with such pure wonder. He wanted to show her what loving was, what a man and woman could be. He wanted to love her for all the days and nights left in this lonely lifetime. He wanted to die inside this woman.
But even in
Jagged rocks jabbed his shoulders, his back, his legs. He grunted. Bracken and sharp roots scratched his face and neck. He curled into a tight ball to keep from catching a limb and breaking bones.
Down he fell, faster and farther. Down, over more sharp granite edges and rough thorny bushes. Down until a mud pit stopped him. He lay there, mud oozing around him, the world spinning, and more stars than Linnet could count shooting past his vision. He didn't move for the longest time. He took one breath, then another, very slowly.
"William?" She was looking down from the edge of the roadside.
He opened his mouth.
"William, please. Answer me!"
He tried to speak. A moan came out.
"William? I'm coming down there."
"No!" he croaked.
Too late. Her muddy slippers crept over the edge and an instant later she was sliding down the hill on her backside, a fall of flaming red hair flying out behind her. "Ouch!"
He closed his eyes and mentally cursed.
"Oh!"
He heard the sound of tearing fabric.
"Heavens!"
Gravel rained down on him.
"Uh-oh!"
He could hear Linnet crashing through the bushes and winced. Before he could take another breath, she hit him with a grunt. He lay there, eyes closed, Linnet sprawled atop him. Her chest and belly were pressed against his and her legs lay between his own. He could feel her heart beating faster and louder than thundering horses.
Her nose was against his chest and her hair fanned out, twigs and leaves tangled in it. Slowly she raised her head and shook it. Leaves flew out and a twig slapped him in the chin. She shoved her hair out of her face and stared down at him. One small hand reached out to gently cup his cheek. "Are you terribly wounded?" she asked.
"Only my pride."
She whispered his name again, relief in her voice. Her lips were there. An inch away. He told himself not yet. But her body was soft and he wanted her. God, how he wanted her! He relied on pure concentrated determination to control himself. He closed his eyes, which only heightened his sense of smell, sound, and touch. Other than sight, that left one more sensation—taste. How would she taste?
He opened his eyes. There were tears in hers. Real tears. Worried tears. God's teeth. There was only so much a man could take. His mouth was on hers an instant later, his hand splayed across the back of her head, holding her to him. She went even softer against him, as if his kiss made her weak. He stroked her lips with his tongue and she gave a quiet gasp of surprise. His tongue sank into her sweet mouth, filled it, and the kiss was just as he'd thought.
She tasted of honey, of fire, and of everything he ever could need. His other hand slid over her shoulder and slowly down her slim back to caress her bottom. She moaned against the strength of his tongue. He held her hard against him and rolled with her, pressing her back into the soft mud, his mouth taking hers sweetly but firmly, mimicking the way he wanted to take her body—in long, slow strokes that lasted forever.
With her beneath him he pressed closer, feeling her sink into the mud but not caring, because she moaned against his mouth and gripped his shoulders. She didn't push him away. She held him fast and kept her mouth open, her curious tongue moving in answer to his. He shifted his hips, rocking slowly against her in a steady rhythm as old as time.
It was happening too fast. Too strong. Too out of control. He fought with himself, fought his primal urge and reason. He drew his mouth away, his breath coming as fast as his passion did. He looked down into those eyes, those wild golden eyes that looked up at him with such pure wonder. He wanted to show her what loving was, what a man and woman could be. He wanted to love her for all the days and nights left in this lonely lifetime. He wanted to die inside this woman.
But even in
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