Copyright © 2000 Robert G. Ferrell

A Hard Knight's Day

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never been that good before," she purred, regarding him through lids swollen with passion. Sir Hirundo smiled down at her sweat-drenched form and balanced himself on one muscular elbow. "Ye make a passin' fere romp yeersel', lass," he answered. The voluptuous maid by his side shuddered in ecstasy and swooned, dead to the world.

The next day was Thursday, and the noble Sir Hirundo had yet another rendezvous in yet a different part of his generous holdings. As he rode astride Nebuchadnezzar, his fiercely virile stallion, this talented Knight could not help but savor his anticipation of the evening's promised activities. The lady Chassica set a splendid dish, and she never lacked in garnishings. Her meals were excellent, as well. He would partake of all dishes offered him this night, and leave naught for the scavengers on the morn.

The night wind moaned through the twisted trees fringing the modest manor house as Sir Hirundo strode manfully to the portal of paradise. Boldly he flung open the heavy wooden door.

She stood there before him, softly outlined by the pale moonlight filtering in through the arrow-slits above the portcullised windows. They stared longingly at one another for some moments, as though mesmerized by some unseen breath of FaŽrie, until at last he took her in his powerful embrace. Hungrily they explored each other; each touch spoke volumes in a language which far transcended that of words.

She was no common trollop, however, this mysterious and passionate lady Sir Hirundo found so utterly delectable. No, this was a woman of no base birth; she was, in fact, a niece of the Blood Royal, brought to her current diminished station by the black machinations of an evil and grasping Minister of the King's Household. This most foul and contemptible cur had fabricated certain documents and slipped gold into the greedy coffers of certain officials, which efforts gained him the leverage to convince the Sovereign that this poor, gentle vision of loveliness who now tumbled in Sir Hirundo's ardent arms was in fact an agent of an enemy of the King. Because she was of Royal Blood, she was banished from Court and her lands were forfeit to the Crown--had she been less favored in the Royal Eyes, she would have been summarily executed.

Sir Hirundo had taken her in and given her one of his less decorous manor homes in which to live while she plotted to recover her lost legacy. There was a price, however, for his generosity, and tonight she would render payment in full.

The bed was soft, though not overly luxurious. Neither noticed the lack of expensive silk bed coverings, for what are fabrics and textures in the midst of superheated passion? They clung to each other in the dimly flickering candlelight and felt their pulses race.

He moved his masculine fingers along the exquisitely sculpted contours of her body, its lemon-silk skin scented with lilacs and covered in a very thin sheen of musky perspiration. Her lips, full and the color of ripe plums, parted ever so slightly, and a gasp of undiluted sensuality escaped from them.

With ever-increasing tension, the two lovers sought each other out. They tore at one another in a near-frenzy, recklessly eager for that moment of perfect and fulfilling union. Suddenly, that moment was upon them.

She started to gasp and moan in time with his movement. After a gradual crescendo, both of them knew through their haze of ecstasy that the denouement was just seconds away.

"Please," she panted, almost inarticulate, "Please don't stoooOOH!" He grunted in reply, and redoubled his efforts. "You mustn't, you mustn't, you....YES!" She cried, and dug her nails into the bulging muscles of his back and shoulders. "Now, oh yes!"
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