Read Hot Summer's Knight for Free Online

you were a baby.
    “We’re going to Freycinet.  The Lady there pays fairly, we’ve been told.  She admired some of your father’s work at the duke’s palace last summer, and she’s asked him to come up here and do this job for her.”
    Jessamine registered the fact that a woman ran this part of the valley.
    “Where’s the Lord then?”
    “It’s not a question the likes of us can ask, child.  We mind our own business, and get on with the job.”
    Martha’s lecture continued along the same lines.  Jessamine had heard it many times before.  She was only a master carpenter’s daughter, and she must remember her place.
    Why, she’d like to know.  She knew she was pretty.  Men liked her, all sorts of men, from stable boys to dukes’ sons.  She didn’t see why she shouldn’t use her very obvious assets to their best advantage.  Her mother wanted her to marry another carpenter and help him in his trade as she had always helped Jessamine’s father, but Jessamine had ideas of her own.
    She vowed her life was going to be different, far, far different from the drudgery her mother endured without question.
    The road took them over an old stone bridge, through a village and another, more open, forest.  Then fields spread out around them, and in the distance, another, much smaller castle could be seen.
    Compared to Betizac, the castle at Freycinet barely deserved the name.  Its builders had placed it on a bend in the river, to give it some protection, no doubt.  A couple of towers, a hall, kitchens, stables, a few small cottages, and a smithy were enclosed within its walls.  Built as much of timber as stone, it looked as though it was cobbled together from whatever materials they’d been able to find.
    Not much of a place at all, thought Jessamine in disgust.  Her father and Albert led the first pair of oxen through the gates, into the courtyard, where a small crowd awaited their arrival.
    And then she saw him.
    A man was leaning on the gatepost, watching the carpenter’s arrival.  He held a heavy hammer in his hand, and a collection of tools lay at his feet.  He’d tied his long hair back off his face, but dark tendrils had escaped and clung to the sweat on his forehead. 
    In the unbearable heat, he’d taken off his tunic.  His skin was clearly no stranger to the sun’s touch.  The well-defined muscles of his chest and arms looked as though they’d been carved from some exotic timber, and then oiled.  His battle scars were like flaws in timber; they only served to enhance his appeal.  Loose leggings tied around lean hips with a leather thong failed to conceal the generous bulge of his sex.
    Jessamine swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, her palms sweating, the moisture hot between her legs.
    She’d thought she’d known well-built men, she’d thought she’d seen handsome men, until this moment.  Here was a man like no other.  The need to have him, to be joined with him, to feel him as he moved inside her, devoured her like a fire through dry wood.
    Who was he?  Jessamine didn’t care if he was the Lady’s personal slave, she swore she’d have him for herself.  She knew what men liked.  All she’d need would be a few moments alone with him, and he’d be hers.
    She knew the man at the gate was watching her, and she smiled to herself.  Her hair hung, the deep gold of birch leaves in autumn she’d been told, unbound to her waist.  Taking off her straw hat, she tossed her hair over one shoulder. 
    The first blow in the inevitable duel had been struck.
    Her father quickly singled out the Lady of the castle from the gathering crowd.  Leaving the oxen in Albert’s care, he hurried towards her, removing his hat as he went.
    “I am Lady Berenice de Freycinet,” the woman stated, and welcomed the family to the valley.  Jessamine’s attention shifted.  This woman represented authority in this place, insignificant as it was.
    She was as insignificant as the place she ruled.  Small,