Back The King's Man
Chapters (30)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Also By Elizabeth Kingston
  4. The King's Man (Welsh Blades, #1)
  5. Historical Note
  6. CHAPTER 1
  7. CHAPTER 2
  8. CHAPTER 3
  9. CHAPTER 4
  10. CHAPTER 5
  11. CHAPTER 6
  12. CHAPTER 7
  13. CHAPTER 8
  14. CHAPTER 9
  15. CHAPTER 10
  16. CHAPTER 11
  17. CHAPTER 12
  18. CHAPTER 13
  19. CHAPTER 14
  20. CHAPTER 15
  21. CHAPTER 16
  22. CHAPTER 17
  23. CHAPTER 18
  24. CHAPTER 19
  25. CHAPTER 20
  26. CHAPTER 21
  27. Excerpt, Book #2: Fair, Bright, and Terrible
  28. Acknowledgements
  29. Don't miss out!
  30. About the Author

They lay heaving for breath in the aftermath. She felt bruised and battered. Her mail pressed into her bare hip, her mouth throbbed with pain. She brought her arms around him and tightened her legs on his hips. She wanted him to stay inside her, to never leave. She pressed her lips to the damp curl of hair at his temple and prayed for the first time since she was a girl, that he would stay as one with her.

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CHAPTER 20
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When her breath came more easily and the cold of the stone beneath her began to creep into her consciousness, she felt him pull away. He resisted the gentle insistence of her arms, slowly but steadily moving off her body. Without his heat covering her, the cool air of the room seemed intolerably cold where it touched the bared flesh of her legs.

The room was fitted up for her mother’s convenience, a private place to speak with visitors away from prying eyes. There was a wide bench in the corner, with soft cushions, and she thought she would like to curl up there. With him. But she could only find strength to lift herself to her elbows, drawing up her knees and feeling the tangle of hose that had gathered around one foot drag on the floor. She watched him stand and with a few quick adjustments of his clothes, he looked the same as he had when he stood in the hall. Only his face, slightly damp and flushed from exertion, showed evidence that anything had transpired between them.

He frowned at the cold hearth, then turned to pull the heavy tapestry over the door opening, sparing a glance toward her legs. “Dress yourself. We stay here the night but are gone with tomorrow’s first light.”

She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. “Only now was I wishing to hide myself here with you,” she said, nodding toward the cushioned bench. They could call for a servant, have blankets and refreshment brought, and never leave. “I would be where the world may not reach us.” She almost smiled, so rare was it for her to have such wistful thoughts.

But there was no answering tenderness in his voice. “You surprise me,” he said, and the coldness in his words raised gooseflesh on her bare thighs. “So eagerly did you ride to Wales. You pull the world to you, with both hands.”

She felt breathless with the unexpected truth of this. Not knowing how to respond, she looked down at her feet, at the tangle of cloth there. A shoe had been lost somewhere in their lustful struggle. He was right when he’d said she should dress, for warmth’s sake if nothing else. Reluctantly, she began to pull the hose up her legs, slowly, stopping when she’d covered herself to the knees.

“What will my mother tell this priest?” she asked.