For One Dark Knight

“Isobel?” Sir Welouf called out to her.

With renewed focus, her feet propelled her forward. She was heading in the right direction. His voice confirmed it. All she thought of was escape. She just had to keep running.

The noises from behind became louder and she turned to see where they were. She turned to look behind for an instant, and then she was brought up short. She’d ran straight into something! Isobel collided with what felt like a tree trunk. Her whole body screamed out in pain from the impact. Isobel’s skull pounded with a thudding ache. Her clouded vision cleared and she realized that it wasn’t a tree. All before her was black. She took a second look, shook the dazed feeling out of her mind, and saw with greater clarity. The well-made chest of a man in a black tunic stopped her.

She’d collided with him and her hands came to rest on his chest. Her palms felt the hardness beneath the thick fabric and mail. She had inadvertently run into the arms of another stranger. Fear crept into her chest at the prospect of what she might see when she looked up. Isobel began to slide her hands down. She took a step back, slid her hands off of him, and raised her face to the stranger’s. That proved to be a serious mistake.

Staring down at her, as if they could bore into her soul and see the very heart of her, were the most luxurious, brown eyes she’d ever seen. Amber flecks swam about in their rich languid pools. The sensual orbs made her feel naked before this mysterious man. It gave her such a rush of fear and excitement that she couldn’t think. Darkness and danger loomed in those eyes. For some unknown reason, she desperately yearned to explore it.

Streaks of gold threaded through his dark brown hair like the last remnants of summer clinging to his sculpted physique. They painted a scene in her mind of days spent in the warmth of the summer sun. Isobel felt lucky that her legs remained steady as she stood in awe. Her hands lingered near his upper abdomen. She wouldn’t move them if she could. Isobel couldn’t deny the strong pull she felt toward this man. She should run from him, but instead, she wanted to greedily slide her hungry fingers over the planes of his chest. Her eyes swept over his body and back to his face. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his square jaw and full lips. He exuded masculine heat, the likes Isobel had never felt. The moment passed between them, and it seemed to last forever.

A loud crash from behind scared her and she jumped. She wrapped her arms about his neck, her head nestled against his and held tight.

* * * *

He heard the two men stomping through the forest. If they were vigilant, they might have noticed Ulric and Robert. Seeing the men meet with the two others in the forest gained Robert’s interest. The singular reasons for men to be in these woods were to either hunt or steal. Since they carried no bows, he figured they had to be stealing something.

Ulric circled around while Robert followed the two bandits on foot. It wasn’t until he managed to get closer, that he realized exactly what the larger man carried—a woman, whom they had obviously kidnapped. She appeared unconscious until she dropped.

The sly lady suddenly slipped out of the larger man’s arms, bounded to her feet, and ran right for him. Her plated hair swung wild in her wake. Her dress swept over the forest floor, sticks and leaves dragging behind her. She jumped over a log. She still hadn’t seen him.

She turned to look behind. Her feet carried her farther and farther away from danger. The woman could have run into a tree like that. Instead, she barreled right into him, colliding into his chest. He might have called out to her, but he didn’t want to alarm her any more than she already was. He caught her in his arms when she slammed into his chest at full force. It took some of the breath out of him, but he stayed upright with no trouble.

Combined in one glorious pair of large eyes, the color of spring’s first buds and the dusky hues of the night skies united. She looked up at him through thick, dark lashes. Her gaze begged for his assistance and spoke of vulnerability. Her full, quivering lips spoke to him, putting thoughts into his head of another quivering. The way her stare raked his body thrilled him. Both bold and beautiful. Her height perfect in that her chin sat just beneath his jaw line. He could tuck her head into the hollow of his neck. A stray strand of her hair grazed his roughened fingers and sent a tingling sensation as smooth as silk over his skin.

What would it feel like to hold a fist of it in his palm?

Suddenly, she jumped and wrapped her arms around him. He squeezed her gently and felt something so foreign to him. He’d never been assaulted with such emotion in one meeting—in one instance, one touch, and one glance. Her grip felt like lightning. It seared his flesh with a molten heat all of her making. Lust. Robert hadn’t felt this kind of longing in many years. To be honest, he’d never had such a strong attraction toward any woman in his life. The scent of lavender assaulted his senses as he held on to her.