A Knight and White Satin. Jackie Ivie

A KNIGHT And WHITE SATIN

      Also by Jackie Ivie

      ONCE UPON A KNIGHT

      A KNIGHT WELL SPENT

      HEAT OF THE KNIGHT

      A KNIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

      TENDER IS THE KNIGHT

      LADY OF THE KNIGHT

      A KNIGHT And WHITE SATIN

      Jackie Ivie

      ZEBRA BOOKS

      KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      To my son,

       Joshua David

      With love and pride—

      for the boy you were and

       the man you are

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Chapter 27

      Chapter 28

      Chapter 1

      AD 1540

      The spoils went to the victor. Always. It was one truth of life that the Caruths embraced and flexed at will. That was before spoils included her.

      For members of the warrior clan of Caruth, claiming victory, taking riches, and wreaking vengeance was right and just and exercised without warning, empathy, or delay. To have it turned so completely was causing bitterness to flood her breast until it was rooted in disgust as she watched them.

      It was Dunn-Fadden clan. Beggars. Wanderers. Fools. The entire clan was a mass of disjointed factions with none claiming leadership until this surprise. A dark shadow filled the space in front of her, taking her unseeing vision from the few gleeful Dunn-Fadden men ripping apart her home. She focused on their leader and frowned deeper.

      “Come.” He had his hand out, the one still encased in the falconer glove. The bitterness moved, filling her throat with the acrid taste. “Nae,” she told him.

      A half-smile played about his lips for a moment and in the next Dallis was atop his shoulder, blinking on the blood-coated, split tiles of the great hall floor, and hating the fact that she hadn’t even seen him move.

      “You can struggle. I’d like that.”

      The portion of her anatomy that he was fondling had never felt what it was now. Dallis choked back any reaction as his free hand caressed her buttocks that he’d put on display for the act. And then he was moving, taking sure steps that had her bouncing with each one.

      “Dinna’ do this!”

      He’d reached the steps leading to her tower, as if he knew where her bedchambers were. If she could have stopped the sobbed words, she would have. Dallis sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit down, holding it in place to keep any further emotion from sounding. She’d been taught better. You never showed weakness and suffering. And pain? There was nothing more painful than the sting of clan censure and hatred. Dallis held her lessons close, started going through them in a prayerlike chant, and still she couldn’t stop the shivers. All she could hope was he didn’t note them.

      He chuckled. He had broad shoulders she’d noted earlier and they shuddered with what was probably his amusement.

      “Do what? You’re my wife. Taken this night. In wedlock.”

      “A pagan ceremony, given without clergy!”

      He had to have heard her even if he was taking each step like they were level and not steeply assembled. The angle had to be steep. The spiral stairs were a tight and rapid ascent. That’s what came of having such a tall, square keep; one that was impenetrable and had never been taken…could never be taken.

      Until now.

      He didn’t say anything to her outburst. He didn’t have to. She knew the toll she was paying. She just wished all the teachings meant something when butted up against reality. Not fear the solid mass of man that was carrying her? How was she to do that? Mayhap her clan shouldn’t have saved the altar of her maidenhead until she was plum-ripe and almost too old. Maybe they shouldn’t have dangled the castle, glens, and lochs that came with her hand. Mayhap they should have wed her off to her betrothed, one of the king’s most powerful earls, the moment she’d come of an age for it. Any of that they should have done.

      In her mind’s eye, she could still see the shine of spilt blood below, and how it was being washed by the drip of rain through the roof that had been ripped open when the Dunn-Faddens had first used their battering ram. Dallis had never known the like, never even experienced it. The moment the tree they’d felled hit the doors, the most horrendous roll of the earth had happened, making the floors sway and crack, her mother’s prized leaded glass windows warp and then fall inward—creating shards that were difficult to fight amongst and even harder to dodge when wearing slippers—and their blow had even caused the roof above the great hall to split.

      They’d reached her chamber, and he didn’t have to use a handle to open the door since it was gaping wide from the jamb. The force he’d somehow summoned had affected even here, three stories up the square tower that had been the sign of Caruth power for over a century. He swung wide giving Dallis a sweeping vision of what had been a lady’s chamber, decorated with material in a white hue she demanded, but was now little more than hanging strips marking where her canopy had been, an open window where the leaded glass hung in chunks, and chests that contained absolutely nothing.

      Then there was her serf, Bronwyn. The girl appeared from the antechamber to stand, wringing her hands and sobbing tears that Dallis didn’t have the luxury of crying.

      “Get out.”

      The man holding her ordered Bronwyn out, but the maid did little more than burst into louder sobs.

      “Take the wench and get her from the chamber. Take her below. Use her for sport. Keep an eye out for Caruth clan. They’ll have sent a cry.”

      Bronwyn shrieked louder and there wasn’t even anyone near her. Dallis knew the girl wasn’t adverse to a romp, and made certain she had a bed to share for her nights. That should have helped contain Dallis’s own fear.

      “There’ll be none to witness the consummation, my laird.”

      “It won’t be an issue. Take her. Now.”

      The man holding her spoke to three men at his heels that Dallis hadn’t known were following them. She gulped, sent the streak of emotion deep, and turned her head sideways, away from them. It was better to arouse anger.