It all made sense now: a tall, dark, handsome, silent knight in shining armor appears out of nowhere, sweeps her up on his black stallion and makes her his prisoner. C'mon, O'Brien! This is the stuff dreams are made of! Even as the realization she was probably unconscious, maybe even in a coma, sent a wave of fear dancing through her, the thought of sharing a dream with this now apparently harmless, handsome apparition seemed suddenly very attractive.
Kendra gazed up at the knight and felt her heartbeat quicken. It had been a long time since she had felt attracted to a man. After her husband died, it had been a year before she even acknowledged there was an opposite sex. Mac had begun "fixing her up" with blind dates, but every one of them had been a disaster. She'd never again met a man who could thrill her the way James once had, just by walking into the room. Until now. Too bad he wasn't real.
Her sudden silence got the knight's attention in a way all of her ranting and questions hadn't been able to accomplish.
"Are you ill?" he asked, kneeling down beside her. Kendra blinked at the sound of the deep, husky voice next to her ear. She turned and found her lips inches away from his. He was wearing only the blanket now over his leggings. His chest was broad, smooth except for a dusting of dark hair that ended in a V between his pectortal muscles. His scent was heady, masculine. It should have repelled her but somehow it did the opposite.
"What the hell," she whispered, never taking her eyes from his mouth. "It's my dream."
Slowly she ran both hands beneath the blanket and up the front of his bare chest. He stiffened and drew away from her.
"What--what do you think you are doing?"
"This," she said softly, pulling him back to her and taking his face between her hands. Opening her mouth slightly, Kendra brushed her lower lip against his and the knight's golden eyes turned to burnished amber. Thanking her subconscious mind for its attention to detail, she moved to deepen the kiss. He jerked away from her and jumped to his feet as if she had branded him with a hot iron. Hot iron, she thought languidly, is what I chiefly need right now. Navarre moved quickly away and in a matter of moments was brandishing his sword again.
Kendra tossed her long auburn hair back from her shoulders and frowned up at him. "Give it a rest, will you?" she said crossly. "This is my dream and if I want to kiss you I will."
The man looked genuinely puzzled and took another step back from her. "You will not use your witch's wiles against me," he said.
Kendra stood, clutching the blanket to her chest, moving toward him with a slight roll to her hips. Boldly she pushed aside the sharp sword he had raised to make a barrier between them. The knight stood openmouthed as she reached up and linked her arms behind his head. He was so tall she had to stand on tiptoe to curve her hands against the back of his neck, but she managed. 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 that 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.
"N-name?"
Navarre ran his tongue across his lips and saw the witch's gaze follow, her own mouth curving 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 said 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, and dropped his sword. © 1997
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