Flowers never impressed Eleanor. A cut flower only lasted a day or two, but a man's interest had to last a lifetime. So, she tended to focus on the tactical aspects of courtship: conversational wit, ceremonial decorum, and physical stamina. 

At the age of eighteen, a full two years into her courting season, Eleanor had finally acquiesced to her father's pestering to settle on a suitable prospect. But she had not yet tested this prospect on one crucial matter, and she had no intention of marrying a man she could not take to bed and keep there.

These thoughts plagued her as she stepped onto the grandstand and took a seat beside her father, Lord Dranger. He was grinning in that usual false way, as if the people had gathered there to see him, when they were more eager to watch the tournament of champions. Most specifically, one champion - Sir Lance.

"Your man Lance is looking fit today, is he not?" said the lord at Eleanor's ear.

"He is not my man, father. He has made a formal bid for my hand, and he is proving his worthiness today in front of our neighbors, which has my nerves unhinged."

"Please, darling. No dramatics. You know he will do well in every event."

Lord Dranger settled in his plush chair, looking self-important, and Eleanor quickly turned to her guard, Nathan, who stood behind her.

"Nathan, what do you think of Sir Lance's chances today?"

Nathan knelt at Eleanor's shoulder, speaking deeply over the crowd noise. "He has made up his mind about something."

"He does look particularly intense, doesn't he? His face is focused, but still handsome."

"I see that."

"And with the weather being so warm, his chest is uncovered. He is a fine specimen."

"Fine."

Eleanor appraised Nathan, taking in the strong features of his face. He had always been a pleasing man to look at, and given that he had been her personal guard since age sixteen, she spent a lot of time looking at him. It could have been his hazel eyes, which were unlike any other dark-skinned man she had seen. Possibly from Nordic descent. A striking contrast.

"Why have you not competed with the champions, Nathan?" she asked. "I believe you would make a good showing. You are skilled with all the tools and weapons I have seen you take up."

Nathan may have smiled, but Eleanor found it hard to tell at times. His lips were so full. "I am humbled you would notice, my lady, but I prefer to prove myself as your steadfast guard."

Eleanor smiled. "And I appreciate your devotion."

The tournament proceeded as everyone expected, with Sir Lance making mincemeat out of his competition. The final event consisted of a clever show of archery with flaming arrows, and Lance used it to demonstrate his limitless skill set. No person would doubt he was the most accomplished man on the field. When the trumpeters signaled the end of games, Lance waltzed over to the grandstand, his eyes set on Eleanor.

"I hope you enjoyed the tournament, my lady," he said after a bow. "If it merits your approval, I would like to follow it up with a marriage proposal. Will you be my wife?"

Eleanor's breath was knocked from her throat, in spite of the fact that she had expected Lance to ask. But here he was standing before her, and everyone else in her kingdom, as real as the sun shining on his tanned chest. She was eager to take Lance to bed. Eleanor had been aching to be with a man, any man. She credited this to the number of suitors visiting the castle of late. Most were handsome with strong character, but Sir Lance made her heart flutter like no man had, except one other - Nathan.

Nathan, being a castle guard paid to protect her and not a suitor to impress her, had been Eleanor's ear to bend, and they talked openly about everything. Still, there was one subject Eleanor had been reluctant to speak about, but it was a subject she very much wished to address.

As Eleanor readied her reply to Sir Lance, someone shouted from the far end of the field. The shout came from Cedric, the lookout, and judging by the speed at which he rode his horse, his reason for leaving his post had to be dire. Eleanor felt Nathan stiffen behind her when Cedric's words finally became clear.

"The castle is under attack! The armies are many!"

Lord Dranger was the first out of his chair, and he pinned Sir Lance with a serious scowl. "I hope you're ready to put those archery skills into action."

"I am at your service, my lord." Sir Lance grabbed the hilt of his sword in a show of allegiance, and Eleanor nearly swooned at his bravery despite her morbid fear she could lose him before their vows were made.

Lord Dranger shouted his next command to Nathan. "Take Eleanor to the servant's quarters. The maggots will not think to look for her there."

Eleanor did not like the way her father spoke as if the castle would be captured, but she didn't have time to think on it. Nathan pulled her swiftly from her chair and guided her down the stairs of the grandstand. The sloping hill leading to the drawbridge seemed that much steeper as Eleanor tramped through the grass, putting distance between herself and the shrill cries behind her. Someone shouted 'Fire!', and she turned to watch flaming arrows fly over the scattering crowd.

By the time she and Nathan reached the bailey, Eleanor's heart was in her throat, and they were forced to take cover as a number of men bolted from the stable on horseback, leaving behind a flurry of activity. Commands were shouted, weapons were deployed, and horses whinnied. The dust was terrible, but finally the stable emptied and the baily quieted, with only the battle beyond the wall reminding them of their plight.

"Let us hide in the stable," Nathan said as he huddled Eleanor under his strong chest.

A less than pleasant odor followed them up the ladder into the hayloft, and when Nathan was sure they could not be seen, he comforted Eleanor inside his powerful arms. His scent was pungent as well, but in a pleasing way.

"Do not worry, my lady. They will have to take me before you."

"I know, Nathan. You are a knight of the highest order."

There was no way for Eleanor to tell if Nathan had blushed at her compliment. They were in a dimly lit stable and his skin was dark, but his eyes told her his intentions were pure.

"Do you want to tell me why we are hiding here in the stable rather than the servant's quarters, as my father suggested?" she asked.

"I believe we might learn the identity of our enemy, your grace."

Nathan's hand came to rest on Eleanor's bare shoulder, making her skin bristle. Eleanor never minded when Nathan touched her, much of his job required it. But now, with their lives in sudden peril, she felt something different in his comfort.

"Are you letting the solider in you take precedence over your lord's orders?"

"My motives are honorable, I assure you, Eleanor."

The way Nathan spoke her name, as if it was some tangible thing to be coveted or devoured, had Eleanor's heart racing.

"I know you are an honorable man, Nathan. We have shared much."

"Nearly all, my lady."

"Nathan?"

"Yes, my lady."

"I am worried I will not be enough for Sir Lance."

"Yes, my lady. I know."

"Do you think he will survive this siege?"

"If anyone can, he can."

"And then we will marry and I will offer my virtue to him."

"If that is what you wish."

Eleanor felt the intent of Nathan's words as he breathed them across her neck. His full lips had been there, pressed against her skin as they engaged in discourse. It had her quite unhinged.

"I know you have had a woman, Nathan," she breathed, daring to speak the words buried so long. "Will you show me how you pleased her?"

Nathan stilled against her back. "But, my lady. Then you would not be giving your virtue to Sir Lance."

Eleanor smiled at him, knowing he would come to that conclusion. "You are not my only confidant. I speak with the maidens, and I know there are things to be done that will please a lady."

Nathan's lips grew firmer against Eleanor's neck, and his fingers grazed the curve of her chin as he pulled her long hair away from her face, touching a featherlight kiss to her cheek. "I have waited long for this day, Eleanor."

"I have thought of you often too, Nathan. Is it wrong to want two men?"

"It is in our nature to want. Who among us has the authority to judge?"

Eleanor could not help herself. She turned and met Nathan's lips with her own, letting him taste her mouth and the desire she had been suppressing. Nathan did not hesitate to meet her urgency, taming her lips like they were his to own. Soon, Eleanor was without her undergarments and Nathan was without his, and the sounds of battle seemed a mile away as Eleanor submitted to him, letting his fingers roam where no man had been, and his tongue explore where only her daydreams had taken her.

"Nathan, touch me there," she begged as his thumb slid across the slick surface of her womanhood, sending spikes of pleasure to every part of her body.

When Nathan disappeared behind the thick fabric of her dress to taste her essence, that is when she truly believed the maidens' tales. She held his head in her hands, desperate to keep him there as his tongue drove her wild with desire. The feeling burned through her like a wildfire until her body splintered into a million sensations. A moment later, Nathan was straddling her hips, and she felt his manhood at her entrance, rigid from arousal.

"No, Nathan. You mustn't."

"Please abide me, Eleanor. I beg you. Let me linger at your flower just a moment."

His words had her mad with lust, and she acquiesced, letting him rest between her thighs, his member pulsing in a feverish rhythm. He spread her lips wide, and she wondered how something so large could fit in the small space provided. Would Sir Lance be endowed the same way? Her mother said they were not all alike. At her ear, Nathan groaned, then he jerked against her and she felt his seed spill between her legs, coating her skin with warmth.

"Eleanor. I am sorry."

On the heels of his apology, the clattering of horseshoes disturbed their liaison, and two soldiers brought their horses into the stable, speaking through labored breaths.

"Did the second wave infiltrate the portcullis before it closed?" one man asked.

"Most of them. Lance led his men to the throne room where he has Lord Dranger trapped. It is only a matter of finding the girl and we can share a flagon and a maiden for our trouble."

"I'll be sharing no maiden with you. You always insist on going first."

"What's the difference? They're making the beast with two backs from here to the next kingdom."

The men's voices faded and Eleanor turned to Nathan, her face cold from fear. "That's it, then. Sir Lance does not want me. He wants my kingdom."

"That may or may not be true," Nathan said as he pulled on his breeches. "He very likely wants you and the kingdom."

Eleanor fumbled in the hay for her bloomers and dragged them over her bare buttocks. The mess Nathan left would be tricky to hide from the servants. If she had any servants left after this debacle. "What do you suggest I do? Give myself up?"

"A clever knight like Sir Lance will want a wife with her name on the inheritance. You are an asset to him, despite whatever disagreement he has with your father."

Eleanor let Nathan talk her into climbing out of the hayloft, and he escorted her through the bailey into the castle. With her imposing guard at her side, nobody attempted to detain her on their way to the throne room. When Eleanor entered her father's sacred space, all eyes turned to her. One pair of eyes belonged to Sir Lance. He stood at the foot of Lord Dranger's throne, his sword tip pointed at the floor and his hand on the hilt.

"Daughter, you are safe." Her father's eyes lit up at the sight of her, which cheered Eleanor. She knew he had wanted a son.

"Yes, father. And you appear to be less so."

Her father spoke as he stared down his nose at Lance. "I seem to have been the target of trickery and deceit. Your valiant knight has been planning this raid for six seasons. Your intent to commit murder, knave, has already placed a sin upon you," he cursed.

"I do not plan to kill you. I am here to dethrone you," Sir Lance said. "You will be free to find another plot of land to pilfer." He puffed up his tanned chest importantly, which was smeared with dirt and blood. Yet, he was still handsome.

"And what is to become of my Eleanor?" her father said.

"She will be free to stay at the castle and do as she pleases. She can do that as my wife if that is her desire. I merely wish to rule this land, which came to you by the same means that I'm taking it from you now. You are no more noble than I."

"Maggot rogue!" Lord Dranger swore as Lance ordered his men to take him away.

More soldiers from the opposition filtered into the castle and all appeared lost. Eleanor stood against Nathan's chest, taking solace in his gentle eyes, "What will you do now, Nathan? Join Lance's band of maggots?"

"That all depends."

"On what, pray tell?"

"On where you will be."

"Nathan, you are not under my father's oath anymore. Well, you will not be soon. You can do as you wish."

"And I wish to do that with you."

"Oh, Nathan. You make a lady swoon, but how will our family flourish? If I leave my home, I will inherit nothing, and you are a guard without an employer."

"Or, we could both stay and flourish."

"You want me to stay while Lance throws my father out?"

"It's the most sensible choice for a lady of your standing. You have an aunt in Cambridge. She will see that your father does not starve."

Eleanor stared at Nathan, noticing a faint twinkle in his eyes. "You have been thinking about this a while, haven't you? Tell the truth, Nathan."

His gaze flicked to the floor before returning to her face. "Yes, but only because I have loved you for so long and knew I could not have you. This is what you might call a fortunate circumstance."

"But if I marry Sir Lance, you and I will be forced apart. It will be torture." She lifted onto her toes, stealing a kiss from his full lips.

Nathan glanced around as he lowered his voice. "Have you not heard the term 'mistress', my lady?"

Eleanor raised her brows. "What a bold thing to suggest. And I would not be a mistress, I would be an adulteress."

"Which is more sinful? Having a mistress or committing adultery?"

Eleanor crossed her arms, blocking Nathan's view of her bosom. He had been staring at it ever since their tryst in the stable. She still felt the stickiness between her legs, and it made her thighs clench.

"It is improper in both regards," she offered.

"Yet, it is commonplace, my lady. You said so yourself. You want to please your man. To keep him in his own bed. But men are lusty beasts. We will not be sated until we conquer everything we set our minds on."

"So, true love is lost?" Eleanor lowered her head to his chest, letting his arms surround her.

"No. It is just rare."

Sir Lance rounded the corner and caught Eleanor in the embrace of her guardsman, which had her stumbling into the wall.

"I am sorry if you were harmed in any way, Eleanor." Lance came to stand before her, his mouth set in a sincere and somewhat pouty line.

"I am unharmed. Nathan protected me."

Sir Lance directed his gaze at Nathan. "Your service to the house of Dranger is merit worthy, and you are welcome to serve under me now. As far as Lady Eleanor is concerned, she and I have a bedroom to visit." He held out his hand to Eleanor, but this only caused her to back further away.

"Your crudeness is unbecoming, sir."

Sir Lance smirked as he rested his palm against the wall at Eleanor's head. "How is it you will allow this dark-skinned guard to taste your flower but not I?" Her eyes widened with guilt, but he did not appear deterred. "He may have tasted you, but I plan to deflower you. Is that not what I've been reading in your eyes since we first met?"

Eleanor blinked as the heat of shame filled her chest, and she found herself being led toward the stairwell by her arm. As she and Sir Lance ascended the stairs, she saw a secret smile pass between the two knights. It was a smile she could not fully decipher until Lance spoke again.

"If Nathan wishes to join us, he may."

THE END