In the days when men sought to rescue damsels in distress, Sir Benedict Childerley's only desire is to rescue Lord Robin Holt from an arranged marriage. Lord Robin, a sweet, gentle boy from a wealthy family, wants a knight in shining armor.
When they meet Sir Ben is not charging in a white steed, but on his back unconscious after a jousting accident. Temporarily banished to a Welsh monastery, Lord Robin tends the knight's injuries, and despite this ignominious first encounter, Lord Robin quickly realizes that the handsome knight is the only man who can win his heart. Sir Ben, the bastard son of a rich lord, is willing to fight an army in order to keep his beloved boy.Lord Robin isn't exactly a damsel in distress, and neither is Sir Ben, even if he's badly injured. But Robin saves Ben from his injuries, and Ben saves the lonely young lord from his arranged marriage and wins his undying love.
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Loose Id, LLC
October 31, 2011
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Excerpt from Knightly Love by Fyn Alexander
Three months I had lived at St. Asaph, and every Monday afternoon, the abbot called me to his little cottage on the monastery grounds for the same purpose. I hated this meeting and yet never shrank from it. The abbot was going to beat the sin out of me, and I suppose someone had to. My dealings with Master Eadward had left me feeling soiled and sinful, and if the abbot chose to cleanse me, then perhaps I should encourage him.
The old monk who lived with the abbot and waited on him showed me into the parlor where I stood in silence by the door, my head bowed. Sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, the abbot said, "Brother Robin, how are you finding life at St. Asaph?" He always asked the same questions, and my answers never differed from week to week.
"As I have found it these last three months, Father, very peaceful, thank you."
"And do you enjoy your work in the infirmary with Brother Damien?"
Brother Damien was a nasty, petty man who made my life miserable at every turn. "Yes, Father. I like to help people. I am learning a good deal about herb lore and caring for the sick."
"I am glad you like to help others. So do I." His face a hard mask of arrogance, the abbot asked, "Do you find your mind wandering to unsavory topics such as the reason my Lord Mossley sent you to us?"
I met his small, dark eyes. "Yes, Father." I always answered the same, and his reply followed upon it like dawn follows night.
Placing both hands flat on the desk, he pushed himself upright. The abbot was a big, verbose man who suspected everyone around him of foul thoughts and sins of the flesh. "If you taint the monks of St. Asaph with your lust for sodomy, I will report you to the appropriate authorities despite your father's generous endowment to the monastery. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father." There was no point in arguing with the man and no point in telling him that the brothers did not need me to corrupt them. The assignations between some of the monks had been apparent from my first day. I had been approached more than once by Brother Abelard, who wanted me to walk the prayer garden with him after dark. Each time I declined, his frustration grew.
"On whom do your lustful thoughts center, Brother?" The abbot snatched up the thick birch rod that stood in the corner near his desk. Tapping the rod against his palm, just as Master Eadward had done, he strode to the middle of the small parlor, his hawkish gaze upon me.
In truth I had had no lustful thoughts concerning anyone at St. Asaph. But I might as well make him happy, since he would beat me anyway. "Father, I have lusted after the farrier who comes up from the village to collect his mother's medicine." The farrier was a handsome young man, but he was also stupid, which appealed to me not at all.
"I knew it! The farrier is a robust young man. You must let Brother Damien serve him from now on." Triumph tilted the corner of his sneering mouth and he pointed at the leather-padded prayer stool.
The day I arrived at the monastery, I had been handed an old monk's robe, a rope for the waist, and a pair of sandals. My own rich clothing had been left with the abbot. Without pause or argument, I unfastened the rope about my waist, dropped it on the floor, and pulled off the coarse, brown robe that had rubbed my nipples raw for the first few weeks. Naked, I knelt on the prayer stool and bowed my head. The embarrassment I had experienced the very first time he had beaten me like this had never returned. I felt nothing.
"You have not been flagellating yourself," the abbot accused me. "There is not a raw mark on your shoulders." He raised the birch rod high in the air and brought it down across my shoulders with such speed that I felt the rush of air before the pain and heard the familiar hissing sound that had so aroused me in the first couple of years with Master Eadward.
With this mean old man, I felt no arousal and bore my penance in silence, though I suspected he wished to make me cry out. Five strokes and he was done. I rose and dressed quickly. My hand was on the large iron ring of the door when the abbot stopped me. "Brother Robin."
I faced him again, longing to leave and yet knowing he would keep me as long as he pleased. "Yes, Father?"
"You have the scars of a birch rod on your backside." The beatings I had endured--and wanted--from Master Eadward had taken their toll over the years, and I was permanently marked.