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
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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