A Knight in Central Park(52)

Happiness is a choice that requires effort at times.

—Anon

Joe’s blood ran hot through his veins, his breathing ragged. An invisible force pulled at him, willing him to leave this place for good. He ignored this imperceptible nemesis as thoughts of kissing Alexandra long and deep took precedence over all else. But then he heard it again: tap-tap-tap.

He winced. If only she’d stop tapping on his head. It was irritating as hell. He brushed her hand off, tried to get back to where they’d left off.

But there it was: tap-tap-tap.

He jolted upward, alert and fully awake, his breathing uneven. He’d been dreaming.

Alexandra slept peacefully next to him, her hand draped across his leg. It was cold and dark. The fire was nearly out. He must have passed out the minute Alexandra shut her eyes. He was thankful wolves hadn’t attacked while they slept. But then what had awoken him?

He scratched his leg and arms. Before coming to this world he’d never been bitten by a flea, but now he had no less than two-dozen bites. He pushed aside the sheepskin cover and came to his feet. He squeezed into his pants, then peered into the darkness. Nothing but dark shadows.

He added a pile of sticks to the smoldering ashes within the circle of stones. By the time he finished, he was shivering. He moved back to where Alexandra slept. A movement in the brush caught his attention. He jerked about, straining to see into the darkness.

Alexandra stirred and so did the hairs on the back of his neck. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Nay.”

He grabbed the sword from the ground next to their makeshift bed. An owl hooted. He held the sword upright, his biceps straining from its solid weight. How the hell he was supposed to use the thing with any accuracy, he had no idea.

Alexandra heard something, too, and drew forth a small dagger, its blade glistening in the dark, its tip sharpened to a deadly point. An animal suddenly leapt from the thick brush to his left.

Precious whinnied and stamped her hooves.

Joe dropped the heavy sword and held his hands out in a karate move instead. A deer and its baby scampered through the campground. Exhaling, he dropped his hands to his sides.

Alexandra smiled.

“Get some sleep,” he told her. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Her smile stretched into a yawn. “’Tis nearly morning.” She put away the knife. “We should begin packing so that we may set off before sunrise.”

He glanced upward at the moon that showed no signs of disappearing anytime soon. “If I’m going to be scaling walls and dodging flaming arrows soon, I’ll need some sleep.” He climbed back into bed, pulled the blankets over his chest, and shut his eyes.

Alexandra began to play with the hair around his ears, hair that had grown too long for his liking.

“If you wanted sleep,” she said, “mayhap you should have thought of that before keeping us awake all night.”

He turned about and pulled her close. She brought herself upon him, her breasts soft against his chest and her hair a silk canopy around his head. She kissed his cheek, his jaw, and then his mouth before she pushed herself to her feet.

“You can’t just tease a man and then leave him wanting.”

She was already a few feet away, but she turned back to him, hands on hips. “Are you wanting?”

He turned on his side, his elbow propped on the ground. “Afraid so.”

“What if a man is always wanting?” She moved back toward him. “How does one ever get anything done?”

“One never does, I suppose.”

She was closer now. He reached up and covered her hand in his. She bent to her knees and climbed back under the blankets. Her leg brushed against him. “You are wanting, my lord, are you not?”

He smiled.

She kissed his throat.

He slid his hand over her waist and pulled her snug against him.

“What is it that you want, my lord?”

“You don’t know?”

“Aye, but I wish to hear you say it.”

She spoke the words so sweetly, he found himself complying. “I want you, Alexandra.” He twirled a strand of curly red hair through his fingers. “I just want you.”





Chapter Fifteen



How rare and wonderful is that flash of a moment when we realize we have discovered a friend.

—William Rotsler