The blanket slid to the ground behind her and his sudden intake of breath was quite gratifying. His eyes were golden - golden! Kendra felt laughter bubbling inside of her. Those eyes should have been the first giveaway she was dreaming. No one on earth had golden eyes!
"Do you have a name, Sir Knight?" she asked softly, wondering absently how a dream could feel so intensely cold.
Navarre ran his tongue across his lips and saw the witch's gaze follow, her own mouth curved up in a satisfied smile as she pressed her lithe, naked body against him. He was being seduced - no, bewitched - by a woman who didn't even come up to his shoulder, by a woman he could crush with one hand, by a woman he suddenly wanted to possess with every fiber of his being.
"My name is Kendra. What's yours? You know, your name?" she asked huskily, pulling his head down closer to hers. "You know, what your friends call you when you aren't busy slaying dragons?"
"Navarre," he whispered, then dropped his sword.
Kendra gasped as, with a groan, the man gathered her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. His lips devoured hers like a white-hot flame licking through a building made of straw. He swung his blanket around both of them, enclosing them in a tent of sudden heat as the mad knight possessed her mouth. From the way his hands were moving, Kendra realized he had no intention of stopping with a kiss, and that was just fine with her. She arched against him, pulling him closer, his touch sending tremors of desire coursing through her. His hands roamed over her body, caressing, stroking, and Kendra found herself responding with an eagerness that should have shamed her - even in a dream.
His tongue continued to warm her mouth as deft fingers moved over her body. Kendra had always prided herself on being broad-minded, liberal in her thinking, but the truth was she had grown up in a small Texas town where even sex after marriage seemed to have certain limitations. She had tried to shake off her inhibitions, but since James didn't seem to mind that she was often a little shy with him, she had settled into patterns of lovemaking that seldom changed.
As she stood clasped in a stranger's arms totally naked, Kendra felt a sudden freedom and exhilaration, and the hungry look in the knight's hooded eyes filled her with a heady sense of power she'd never known before. His hands moved over her, sliding down her back, cupping her buttocks, then around and up to caress her breasts.
"Like lily-white pomegranates," he whispered.
Kendra gasped as he bend his head and his hungry mouth moved to rake the tender skin that had for so long been neglected. Her eyes slid shut as a euphoric lethargy swept over her. She scarcely noticed when Navarre scooped her into his arms and lowered her to earth, her blanket beneath them, his atop. She was conscious only of the incredible utopia of feeling, of long dormant emotions breaking free as his lips, two searing flames, moved to caress her mouth once again.
Kendra clung to Navarre and suddenly she became the aggressor, as though to assert her own equality in their dance of passion. Her fingers tangled in his long dark hair and she arched against him, her breath hot and fevered, her hands touching him intimately even as she was being touched. Kendra lifted her mouth to his throat, almost sobbing from the relief of being touched, of having someone hold her again, kiss her again, love her again. Then suddenly, the mad knight stopped. He drew back from her, staring down at her, his golden eyes confused, his face troubled.
Kendra smiled up at him and, lifting her heavy hair from beneath her, spread it behind her head like a waving, red-gold fan. She was freezing, but the fire between them was warmth enough. She reached for him, for her knight in shining armor, but he just stared at her, his eyes burning with an inner fire. He made no move to touch her again.
"What is it?" she said softly.
"This changes naught," Navarre said, his jaw tightening. "You are still my prisoner. You are still my enemy."
Kendra smiled again and without a word, lifted her hand and caressed his inner thigh with her fingertips. With a groan, Navarre covered her mouth with his own, her body with his, and Kendra knew he was as lost as she was, lost to the heat driving him, lost to the enchantment weaving around them, lost to the fire burning between them.
Kendra closed her eyes. She wanted him, like nothing she had ever wanted before in her life. And because it was a dream, she could have him, in a way that in real life she would not allow.
Hot iron, she remembered suddenly with a gasp, as their flesh collided. Hot iron. Tears filled Kendra's eyes as she felt the burning flame that was Navarre begin to chase away the cold emptiness that had been her constant companion since James's death. Warmth, dark and desperate, danced through her veins and she clung to the knight, her hands caressing his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath the skin, the scars that told too much yet so little.
She opened her eyes and for a moment their gazes locked as something strangely tender passed between them. Navarre stopped his movement again, and Kendra felt bereft until a rough laugh brightened the harsh lines around his mouth. Then her face was between his hands and laughter was forgotten.
"Are you a witch?" Navarre whispered against her lips. "Tell me truly - are you in league with Richard and Locksley?"
She buried her hands in his hair and pressed his face next to hers, even as she laughed aloud. "Oh, my brave knight," she said softly, "if I were a witch, I would enchant you and bind you to me forever. I would keep you tethered to my bed and you would fulfill my every wish. Richard and Locksley could never compare to you."
Navarre jerked back from her embrace, and with a roar rolled away from her and sprang to his feet. Startled, Kendra raised up on her elbows, her expression one of bemusement.
"Wrong answer, huh?" She smiled. "Well, that's what I get for trying to be poetic. Now," she lifted her arms to him, "come back here. I'm freezing."
Navarre towered above her in all of his naked, outraged glory, his hands curled into fists at his side. "Witch!" he hissed. "Soon you will be warm enough, for you will burn when we reach Nottingham! I should have listened to my instincts - think you to ensorcell me by possessing my body? Or do you seek a child from me by which to bind my soul to yours?"
Kendra sat up, arms wrapped around herself as she shivered, her teeth beginning to chatter. "I am getting very tired of this. This is my dream and I would think I should be able to have things my way. So cooperate or I might just turn you into someone who will - like Mel Gibson."
Kendra started to laugh, but the laughter died in her throat as she saw Navarre's face pale at her words. His strong jaw tightened and the gold in his eyes burned, not with desire any longer, but with raw anger.
He stalked over to the fire where her clothing was stretched across rocks to dry, grabbed them, then turned and threw them in her face. "Dress, whore, before I end your worthless life."
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