The Knight; His secret author

What his voice does to her

*Althea*

His voice is still a deep, rich timbre, with the power to send yearning spiraling through me. I remember a time when I enjoyed his teasing and flirtation, had been mesmerized by every word he uttered. Now, I wish only for some affliction to render him mute.

I angle my chin haughtily. "Because you expect me to stab you in the back? Ridiculous. I would do it from the front so you would know exactly who delivered the devastating blow."

Two gasps and a couple of awkward chuckles follow from the other players still seated. The old chap leaps back as though I am, in fact, wielding a knife at that very moment.

"I would expect no less," Knightley says, bowing his head slightly in acquiescence, in acknowledgment, almost in respect salute his penetrating gaze never wavering from mine. Had he been a true knight upon a jousting field, he might have extended his lance toward me for a favor. Not that I would ever gift him with a ribbon as I had when I loved him.

Then the moment passes, and he pulls out the chair before lowering himself onto the tufted seat. The club ensures members are always comfortable, no doubt to dissuade them from leaving the tables prematurely, with coins still jingling in their pockets. He sets a book on the table.

“Oh, my word, you have garnered a copy of Alpha of my Desires,” Miss Letitia gushes, any drama played out before completely forgotten. The card game as well, it seems. “Is it available in the club library?”

He trails one long, slender finger along the spine, and I fight not to recall how delicious it had felt when he’d done the same along mine. “Unfortunately not. It was won in a card game earlier.”

“I have been dying to get my little hands on it.” Those hands are presently fidgeting with the tokens used to make her bets. “The recounting of a daring she-wolf’s scandalous adventures… my understanding of the story from what I have heard whispered… makes for a titillating read.”

“Some say it’s not a memoir at all,” Beta Langdon offers, “but merely fiction, the memoir in the title simply part of the fantasy it seeks to create. Like Fanny Hill, a novel touted as being the memoir of a she-wolf pleasured. Certainly, a publication garners more interest if it’s believed to be a confession rather than the result of an active imagination. As a matter of fact, wagers are being made at the White wolf as well as in the betting book here, regarding whether it is truth or fiction.”

“Even if it is fiction, one can’t write about such intimate matters if one hasn’t experienced them.” Miss Letitia leans forward slightly. “I don’t suppose you would be kind enough to read the opening passage aloud so perhaps we could judge for ourselves.”

“We’re here to play cards,” I state pithily since the dealer seems to have forgotten his role at the table, “not sit through a droll reading.”

“Have you read it?” Knightley asks.

“Of course I have not read the book. I don’t waste my time with such rubbish.” Or with the likes of you. I should leave now but don’t want to give him the satisfaction of chasing me off.

He raises a brow. “If you have not read it, how do you know it’s rubbish? Perhaps it’s a work that will last through the ages.”

“With a title such as that? It was no doubt penned by a group of bored spinsters.” I am proud of my voice for not giving away any of my emotions. Why does he have to plague me now?

“I say we put it to a vote,” Miss Letitia bubbles enthusiastically. “Raise your hand if you would like Alpha Knightley to read us the opening passage.”

Her hand quickly shoots up, as did those of the other two ladies present. Even Beta Langdon, known for his roguish behavior, raises his hand and arches an eyebrow at me, signaling that I might be overreacting. The dealer, for his part, continues shuffling the cards with the patience of a saint, as if his sole purpose is to rearrange their order.

I fix him with a fiery glare. "You surely cannot let this absurdity proceed," I protest.

The dealer simply shrugs, his shoulders narrow. "My job is to ensure the members are content," he states matter-of-factly.

"This member is far from content. I will be taking my winnings elsewhere," I announce, beginning to collect my wooden tokens. I should have left the moment Knightley joined the table. The temptation to hurl the tokens at him is strong. Yet, I pride myself on my control over my emotions, a skill honed through years of dealing with the very scoundrel seated opposite me.

"Come now, Ally, don't be such a killjoy," Knightley chides gently. "What's the harm in allowing the dealer a brief break while I entertain the group?"

"Don't call me that. We're not as intimate as we once were," I retort, nearly closing my eyes in frustration. I regret using the word 'intimate.' It brings back memories of passionate kisses, fiery touches, and intense looks. I can almost see Knightley's hair falling over his forehead as he leans in...

"My apologies, Miss Leyland. But surely you're as curious as the rest about this book," Knightley continues.

"Didn't you already skim through it, searching for passages that might land its author in legal trouble for obscenity?" I ask pointedly.

"If they can ever identify the author. But no, I was engaged earlier and didn't wish to be rude. However, since I have had a request," he gestures towards Miss Letitia, "and I delight in satisfying curiosity, perhaps you'll allow me this indulgence."

He once satisfied my curiosity in a far more personal manner… with a touch, a kiss, and more. He opened my world to possibilities I had never dared to dream of. Despite the eventual ruin of our relationship, our time together had been blissful, filled with the belief in being loved and loving in return. I had always loved my parents, but what I felt for him was different: it was all-encompassing, boundless as the stars.

With a resigned sigh and an eye roll, I cross my arms, aware of his fleeting glance. He once admired me in a way that now only lives in memory. "Fine. I suppose I can endure a few minutes of your monotonous recitation."

Miss Letitia claps excitedly, bouncing in her seat. The rest of the group leans in, anticipation building, even the dealer, despite his position next to Knightley. However, I keep my posture rigid, determined not to show any interest in Knightley's reaction to what has been deemed quite the provocative read.

Knightley then puts on his reading glasses, opens the book, and begins to read. His fingers, which once brought me immense pleasure, turn the pages until he finds the passage he seeks. Clearing his throat, he starts, "Chapter One. The Gentleman. For me, he will always be the gentleman, unforgettable, irreplaceable. Our first encounter was at a ball. Despite being introduced to countless men before him, the moment our eyes met… his a striking blue… I forgot every one of them. They vanished like smoke on a breeze, leaving him the only tangible presence. When Alpha K took my hand, bowed, and kissed my knuckles, even through my gloves, I felt the warmth of his touch penetrate my skin."

I had forgotten what an incredibly beautiful voice he has, how he can imbue it with passion. How it could make me laugh. And move me to tears. How it could thoroughly ignite my body until I was cursing and crying out for release. The terribly wicked things he would growl that sent me flying into ecstasy. His voice, low, deep, harsh, soft. It is one of the most erotic things about him.

Very slowly, he closes the book, as though it has suddenly become delicate glass. Or perhaps he has. Maybe his voice has the same effect on him.. brings everything to life until he could picture that initial meeting of an innocent girl and a very experienced man. Although the sentences aren't tawdry, and are in fact quite tame except for the mention of flesh, still, with his delivery, they conjured up the promise of lurid images that would soon have the couple, and perhaps the reader, sweltering with desire.

“You’re not stopping, surely,” Miss Letitia says, her breath coming in short little pants.

His penetrating cerulean gaze remains focused on me as he responds, “We agreed to one passage.”

“It can’t have been an entire passage, but merely a paragraph.” He says.

He shifts his eyes to Miss Letitia and winks. “It’s best to always be kept wanting.”

Wanting and needing. He had carried me to the brink countless times, left me to hover there until I thought I would die, and then he had restored life to me with a cataclysm that never failed to leave me astonished and grateful nature so rewarded wickedness with such astounding pleasure.

Miss Letitia looks on the verge of weeping, before straightening her shoulders and announcing succinctly, with conviction, “I believe it is indeed a she-wolf’s memoir and she loves him still.”

“She never claimed to love him,” Knightley says.

“A she-wolf can easily forget a man she does not love.” Then a knowing gleam is reflected in her eyes. “Do you recognize the meeting, Alpha Knightley? Are you, in fact, Alpha K?”

He laughs low, darkly, sending a shiver up my spine. “When we met during your coming-out ball, did I make you forget every man you’ve ever known, Miss Letitia?”

“That’s hardly an answer, my Alpha. Although I suppose in the one bit you read, clues are sadly lacking. It could be any ball. Any Miss. Any gent. However, I am more determined than ever to get my hands on a copy.” She admits.

“Then I shall guard this one with my life.” He grins.

Their conversation irritates me, but I refuse to analyze the reasons behind my annoyance. I no longer have any interest at all in Knightley. Except to beat him at this game and rid him of his coins. I sigh mightily with impatience. “May we cease with the flirting now and play?” I don’t wait for a response, but simply flip a token into the center of the table. Thank the Goddess, the others quickly follow suit and the dealer is soon distributing the cards.

But all the while, aware of Knightley studying me, I pray I am not as easy to read as the book.