A Stroke Of Midnight   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

He gazed at the spot where she had been, and only when I let the sword fall to the ground did he turn to me.

“What would you have of me, Princess? I am yours in any way you want me. Whether by my life, my blood, or my strong right arm, I will serve you.”

“You sound as if you’re about to pledge me your sacred honor like some knight of old.”

“I am a knight of old, Meredith, and if it is my honor you want, you may have it.”

“You told Adair you had no honor, that the queen had taken it with your hair.”

“I have touched the chalice and seen the face of the Goddess. Such blessings are not given to the unworthy.”

“Are you saying your honor is intact because the Goddess treated you as one who is honorable?”

A quick puzzled look flashed through his multicolored eyes, then he said, “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Say what you are thinking.”

He smiled, a quick flash of real humor, that made his face less perfectly handsome, but more real, more precious to my sight. “My honor was never gone, because no one can take your honor from you, not without your letting it go. I was going to say that you have given me back my honor, but I understand now.”

I smiled at him. “No one can take your honor, but you can give it away.”

The smile wilted around the edges. “Yes. I let fear take my honor from me.”

I shook my head.

He smiled again, almost embarrassed. “I mean that my fear became more important than my honor.”

I stopped his words with a kiss. I wrapped my hands across his back, the chalice still held in my right hand. His arms came up tentatively, as if he wasn’t certain how to begin. I think the sex would have been slow and gentle, but I held the symbol of the Goddess, and I was the living symbol of the Goddess. An impatient Goddess. The chalice pulled us backwards as if there was some huge magnet underneath the ground. When the chalice met the earth, it went into the ground, and I was left holding nothing. Amatheon’s back hit the spot where the chalice had vanished, and his spine bowed, eyes fluttering closed, his fingers convulsing against my back, his body pushing against mine. The strength of his hands, the solidness of his body, and the raw need in his face, all of it pulled me down to him, put my mouth against his, my hands eager on his body. When my hand slid between our bodies so I could cup the hard, thick length of him, he shuddered and cried out. His eyes were wild when he looked up at me again.

“Please, Princess.