Read Knight's Blood for Free Online

upright.
     
    Finally Brochan seemed to notice there was something wrong with him. He lowered his chin and peered into Alex’s face. “Are ye not feeling well, Sir Alasdair?”
     
    Alex opened his mouth to speak, but no comment would come.
     
    Brochan shrugged as if this were of no consequence, and waved a hand. “Och, I ken what ye’re needing! I see how tense ye’ve become, and that must be remedied!” Brochan called out, “Come! Fiona! We’ve a man here who needs to be put at his ease!”
     
    A faerie woman rose from a cluster of folk near the large fire and made her way toward him. Weaving between the lounging people, she gazed at Alex with deep, intense blue eyes and a big smile on her face that told him she was thrilled to have been called on. She fairly danced as she came, and the swell and bounce of her very healthy breasts was barely disguised by the thin drape of ragged tunic. Clarity descended on Alex, and at that moment he thought she was the most gorgeous creature he’d ever glimpsed. He feasted his eyes, and all that mead he’d just sucked down went straight to his groin while his neck went boneless. His head wanted to fall back with the pleasure of this vision, and he barely managed to hold it up at a tilt to follow her progress toward him.
     
    The tiny woman slipped behind him and knelt to take his shoulders in her hands. They were hands far stronger than he might have thought, and the fey creature kneaded the tight shoulder muscles expertly so that Alex’s eyes drooped nearly shut.
     
    A groan of deep satisfaction rose from him. The world spun and colors danced before his eyes. A cuach was thrust into his hands again, and he drank deeply. Again the sensation of well-being surged through him. Hands on his shoulders continued, then became breasts against his back and the hands moved to his arms. More hands reached to lift the T-shirt he wore, and he let them pull it over his head. The massage continued, and he was encouraged to lean back against the woman behind him so that he lay in her lap. Looking up, he could see she’d removed her tunic and her chest was directly over his face. He stared. The blood raced in him, but none of it through his brain. The curve of flesh, smooth and swaying with the movement of her hands, invited him to touch. To feel the skin, and the softness beneath. His jeans were tight against his crotch, and he wished for his old tunic to cover what he knew must be an enormous bulge though he wouldn’t look to see.
     
    But Brochan’s voice intruded. “And so the spell was ruined and you were knighted by the king . . .”
     
    Alex’s voice was weak and distant, but he resumed his story, picking up the slender thread he was offered. “Yeah. I was a knight, and Lindsay disguised herself as a boy and became my squire.”
     
    “Strong woman.”
     
    “Aye. She was.” Breathing became difficult. Thinking was nearly impossible, but he forged ahead. “She distinguished herself in battle and became a knight herself. When I was awarded Eilean Aonarach, she became my wife.” Wife. Lindsay was his wife. They were married. He shouldn’t be lying in the lap of another woman. But Lindsay had left. She was gone. “I’d thought we were going to settle down, have a family, and run the island.” The room spun out of control, and his story echoed in the far recesses of his mind. He struggled to tell it, as if the telling were the only thing keeping him on the earth. Or in the earth. Where was he, anyway? When was he? He had no idea anymore. “And there was a baby.” His own voice faded into the distance, and he had to shout to hear himself, though it only seemed to make his voice harder to hear. “The baby was coming. We had to leave. So he would be safe. To go back to the future. The present . . . We made Nemed . . . We returned . . .”
     
    Finally he succumbed to the pleasure of hands on him. With a sigh he stopped talking, relaxed, and the last thing he remembered was