The Knight Marshal (The Silk & Steel Saga) by Karen Azinger Read Free Book Online

come.

4
    Blaine
     
    The Mordant’s palace overflowed with riches beyond Blaine’s wildest dreams. Bright tapestries, golden doors, marble statuary, the entire
palace dripped with wealth, a decadent monument to Darkness. As the son of a
pig farmer, such unbound luxury made him feel both diminished and elated.
Refusing to be intimidated, he was more than willing to partake of the bounty,
a conqueror’s due. His boots rang on the marble hallways, gilded braziers
glowing with heat. He reached the great golden doors and pushed them open,
entering a massive bedchamber. Kath shunned the larger bedrooms, leaving Blaine the pick of the palace. The choice was easy. He grinned, liking the irony of an
Octagon Knight sleeping in the Mordant’s bed. To the victors go the spoils.
He’d never dreamt of such rich spoils.
    Tapestries filled the walls,
vibrant with color, but all of them showed victories of the Dark. Blaine scowled, tempted to rip them down and order them burnt, but they looked fine enough
to fetch a duke’s ransom, so he did his best to ignore the details. Shrugging
his sword harness from his shoulders, he tossed it onto a velvet divan. His
maroon cloak and chainmail followed, leaving a trail of armor and clothes
strewn across the marble floor. Naked, he padded to the marble water closet. A
golden tub filled the far wall, the sound of water trickling down an elaborate
fountain, probably from a rain cistern on the roof. Splashing brazier-heated
water on his face, he made his toilet and returned to the bedchamber, marveling
at the royal luxuries.
    Scented candles lit the room with a
soft glow. An enormous bed dominated the chamber. Large enough to sleep six,
the enticing mound of silken pillows and supple furs beckoned. Weary from the
long day, Blaine fell into bed, sighing as he sank into the goose down
mattress, like floating on a cloud. He rolled amongst the silken sheets, so
many luxuries he’d never tasted. Sprawling across the middle, he reveled in the
downy comfort. Pulling a fur coverlet across his chest, he let sleep take him.
    “My Lord?”
    Blaine swam from a dream to find
three scantily clad women peering down at him, a blonde, a brunette and a
redhead. All three were breathtakingly beautiful. Bemused, he hugged the
coverlet close. “Am I dreaming?”
    The women tittered, their faces
lovely as angels, but the curves beneath their silken sheaths would shame a
harlot.
    “My Lord, may we join you?”
    “ Join me? ” He was very
confused, except for his manhood, which was standing stiff as a knight’s
salute. “Who are you?”
    “We served the Mordant.”
    The blonde smiled. “And now we wish
to serve you, the hero of the citadel.”
    “We only wish to please.” The
brunette gave him a pretty pout.
    Hero, he liked the sound of
that. “But you’re free, you don’t need to do this.”
    “But we wish to serve.”
    “Won’t you let us pleasure a hero?”
    “Won’t you let us please you?”
    It was like talking to a
three-headed hydra, a very lovely hydra. And they used that word again, hero. Blaine sat up, his mind at odds with his manhood. He’d never been called a
hero, except in derision, and never by such beautiful women. Perhaps he’d
finally earned the title. He’d be a fool to turn them away. Throwing back the
covers, he revealed his eagerness. “Join me.”
    They smiled, shrugging silken
sheaths from their shoulders, revealing luscious curves. Naked, they climbed
into his bed. Blaine could not believe his good fortune. Lying back amongst the
pillows, he opened his arms wide, smothered by naked beauty. His hand found a
ripe breast while tender lips found his manhood. He gasped at the intimate
touch, straining to keep control. Some of the things they did seemed strange at
first, but he soon succumbed to their tender pleasures. It was like nothing
he’d ever experienced. Every touch was exquisite; every part of him licked and
fondled. He groaned with ecstasy, shivering on the brink.