She was not unaware of his maleness, of the solid man hewn of muscle and bone, or of the hardness of his shaft, unmistakable against the back of her thigh. He held her trapped against him endlessly as he drove his stallion across vale and hill and through a world brushed by shades of night. No other living creature stirred until dawn grayed the edges of the eastern horizon and the first birds woke the world with song. Still she felt the hardness of the man and his virility. His arousal remained solid and rigid, and she feared it. She feared what one as dark and powerful as this king’s knight might do. He did not even glance at her, but the threat lingered. Aye, she was vulnerable without weapon and protector, vulnerable to this man without mercy. He sat tall, easily guiding his giant destrier as dawn brightened. He looked magnificent riding in the blinding gleam of the rising sun. Light radiated all around him in eye-watering shafts. He stopped to allow her to tend to her body’s needs, and then wordlessly offered her drink and food.
What do You think about Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519)?
