A Knight in Her Arms

Hannah laid the box on her lap and stared at the clasp, touching it tentatively at first with the tip of her finger before delving inside the box to pick it up. The cool metal nestled against the skin of her palm. Clutching it against her chest, she took a deep breath and imagined the knight who would have worn it.

A burst of light flashed red over her closed eyelids and the sound of clinking, rattling metal filled the after hours silence of the gallery. She opened her eyes in surprise and stared. Before her, standing tall and proud, directly between her and the display she'd worked all day perfecting, was a chain mail clad mountain of a man.
And he wasn't smiling. Hannah quickly looked down at her lap and back to the knight, blinking a few times to clear her vision. The stress had finally taken its toll on her imagination.

"Sir Gavin of Rogueforth, at your service," she heard him say, in a brusque baritone with the hint of an accent she couldn't quite place.

"Are you Hannah?"

She focused her attention onto the most attractive, fiercest-looking man she'd ever laid eyes on. She blinked again and her mind raced ahead. Was he a figment of her imagination or could he possibly be…

"Where did you come from?" She looked from left to right, expecting the night guard to round the corner any minute and announce this an elaborate joke. Then she remembered her date. "You must be Susan's cousin—" she started, but his growl stopped her mid-sentence.

"I am Sir Gavin of Rogueforth." He sheathed his sword at his side and bowed his head slightly. "And you are Hannah?"

She straightened her legs, got off the bench, and looked up, way up, into the emerald green eyes of the knight. She nodded. "I'm Hannah." She instinctively offered her hand. Then took it back. "Hannah Falcon."

To her surprise, the green-eyed knight knelt before her, snatched up her hand with his gauntlet-encased fingers and laid his lips upon her knuckles. The gentle kiss sent an unexpected ripple of warmth up her arm.

Dear Lord in heaven, had she died?

She quickly glanced at the bench, expecting to see her dead body sprawled across the wood. No body. And from the way her skin fluttered beneath his soft touch, there was no way she was dead. No way was this her imagination, either. He was living and breathing and his kiss sent tiny jolts of electricity straight down to her toes.

"Lady Hannah." The deep cadence of his voice, mingling with an accent she decided was old English, almost brought her to her knees beside him. As abruptly as he'd lowered himself before her, he stood. The man towered over her, his chain mail covered with a sleeveless black and red surcoat. He put his right hand over his heart. "It is my pleasure to be of service to you."

She bit her lip. Was he for real? Susan failed to mention this date would show up in costume. Wasn't she always joking she'd find a medieval stripper and hire him for Hannah? She wouldn't put it past her friend to talk her cousin into doing something this insane. She probably even paid for the costume. She had to give him credit — he certainly looked and acted authentic. "Did Susan put you up to wearing that?" she blurted out, suddenly feeling small and inadequate next to him.

Every inch of him spoke of power, strength, and virility. Heat crept up the back of her neck. She shook it off.

"I know no Susan."

"Sometimes I wish I didn't either," she said, thinking of all the crazy things her friend did and the last two disastrous dates she'd sent her on.

His hands were back at his sides, encased in gauntlets and they were downright huge. For a split second she wondered if his hands were really that big or if it was just the gloves. Then she imagined those strong fingers working their way across her body. Her insides tingled with a shock of desire, her nipples hardened beneath the fabric of her bra. She blinked and tried to maintain her composure. "Give me a minute to collect my stuff and we'll get out of here."

"You'll not leave my presence."

She didn't imagine many men would agree to don a suit of armor for a blind date or take it to the extreme by staying so true to character. He must owe Susan one pretty big favor. He stood watching her as she gathered her display materials. His stare penetrated her skin, making it prickle and flush. Jeez, she needed to get out more. Susan should have at least warned her what to expect from this date. Still, she decided to play along for the fun of it and deal with Susan later.

"I just need to drop these off in my office, and we'll leave out the side door."

Feet apart, body tall, and covered with chain mail that clinked as he took a step toward her. He lifted off his chain hood and shook out the shock of black hair on his head. A fierce red scar ran the full length from his left ear down to the tip of his chin. Wonder how he did that? It certainly wasn't a shaving accident. A patrician nose, a few scowl lines along the sides of his mouth, and angled features gave him a tough no-nonsense look, making her wonder if he smiled much.

But those eyes. Under hooded brows those mesmerizing green eyes stared down at her with an expression that made every inch of her body burn. She hoped she wouldn't melt where she stood, but her more practical side quickly took over and tried to remind her to focus.

A hint of fear crept into her chest. What if he wasn't Susan's cousin? He denied knowing her, and as much as she wanted to believe it was part of his act, what if it wasn't? Only the night guard would hear her if she screamed, and he didn't even carry a gun. This man was all brawn. He had a really big sword and in that armor of his, even a well-placed kick probably would have little effect on him. Did she need to start carrying pepper spray in her pocket now? Why did she keep leaving her cell phone in her purse? Had she learned nothing from the purse-snatching incident?

"You shiver." He stepped closer, clutching his surcoat between the fingers of his armored gloves. He stood so close she could swear she smelled cloves. "Take my tunic."

She hadn't noticed the chill in the air, but at his mention of it, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms that now prickled with gooseflesh beneath her wool blazer. She took a tentative step back, shaking her head. "No, I'm not cold."

"I am here to protect you, Lady Hannah. Not harm you."