The Broken Sword

By Liane Moonraven

A new King Arthur.

A new wife and a betrayal like none before.
In a time when battles are lost and won, in the blink of an eye everything can change.

Carlota Nasreen Ahmad finds love in the arms of Mathias, the son of her father’s friend. When Mathias and his father mysteriously disappear Carlota is left devastated and pregnant.

After a long period of mourning, Carlota meets Artorius Castus, a stranger visiting on military business and soon they are married. When Arthur and Carlota return to his outpost, the unthinkable happens.

Betrayal of a legendary knight of King Arthur has never happened before.

Will Mathias' fellow knights side with him or the life of their king for the sake of a woman?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liane Moonraven
• Release date: Mar 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476243467

Liane Moonraven

Liane Moonraven was inspired by a college creative writing class, authors such as; Edgar Allan Poe, Brahm Stoker and Stephen King,the brilliant director Alfred Hitchcock,and the great legends of King Arthur. She loves weaving an historical story mixed with a bit of classic horror and steamy romance. Liane believes the combination makes for a deliciously different yet memorable tale. Preferring not to restrict herself to any one particular genre, Liane combines historical romance, erotica, paranormal and horror and you shouldn't be surprised if she combines a bit of each into one story. She has also penned Young Adult fiction which focuses on the subject of bullying and she found comfort writing to a younger audience as well. Liane Moonraven currently lives in a suburb of Washington, D.C. www.lianemoonraven.com

Book preview

THE BROKEN SWORD

The Chronicles of Lady Castus

BY

LIANE MOONRAVEN

The Broken Sword

Liane Moonraven

Copyright 2010 by Liane MoonRaven

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the express written permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web address or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Image of knight on cover acknowledgement: File licensed by www.depositphotos.com/bigdan

Printed in the United States of America

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I would like to thank all of you who encouraged me to stay the course with this story while others tried to discourage me from doing so. You believed in me and you believed in the story and I am eternally grateful to you. Thank you to my pilot readers for their honest feedback and all those who have helped me along the way.

Thank you to my writing partners – we have great fun challenging ourselves and pushing our skills to the limit. Thanks to Josh LeDoux for letting me borrow his face to be the face of Arthur, bringing the character to life. A special thanks to the naysayers for making me more determined than ever. To Kortney Gessler who believed in The Broken Sword enough to take a chance – my sincerest thanks.

Karl Jones, Bryden Lloyd, Michelle Hughs, Brian Bigelow, Nicole Brooks, Amanda Martin, Rebecka Vigus, Trinnette Mayo, Kaya Henderson, Tammie Clark Gibbs, Barbara Ivie and Dawn McQueen Mortimer, you all are my masters of Quan and truly awesome individuals.

To my mom, Frances and my daughters, Brianne and Angelique, I hope I’ve made you proud.

And to anyone else I may have forgotten here, thank you for standing by me, encouraging me, and believing in me. You inspire me to do what I do and I love you so much for it.

AUTHOR’S TWO CENTS & DEDICATION

Ever since I was little girl, I have been fascinated by the legends of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, chivalry, horses, swords and shields. My interest amplified when I stumbled on a group of writing friends who were also enchanted with the medieval period and the stories of King Arthur. It was with this fine group of writers I honed my skills and was able to express my imagination and creativity in the lands of the great knights. Thanks Cathy for providing such a forum. I learned a lot from you and the other fine writers that I have continued to carry with me. We will always love Arthur (Arfa lol).

There are so many versions of the King Arthur story; this is merely my contemporary take on it. I do not claim to be a historian or a period fact-checker. I am simply a good storyteller with a romantic heart who admires historical fiction.

Thank you to David Franzoni and Antoine Fuqua for writing and directing, respectively, the best King Arthur story of all and bringing it to the big screen. Never before had I seen knights portrayed so closely to how they probably really were - dirty, scroungy, but honorable men.

To all my friends and family who encouraged me to stick with this project and see it to publishing, I am eternally grateful to you for your support.

~~~

Thanks to Matt at Medieval Times in Hanover, Maryland, who inspired the lead character, Mathias. I dedicate this book to him. If it were not for his fine memorable performance and tossing the carnation to me on my birthday, the character may have never been born.

Contents

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER 2 BACK TO BUSINESS

CHAPTER 3 I'VE GOT A SECRET

CHAPTER 4 THE REUNION

CHAPTER 5 THE FEAST OF FREEDOM

CHAPTER 6 FAMILY AFFAIR

CHAPTER 7 TWO WORLDS

CHAPTER 8 SHADOWS

CHAPTER 9 THE FEAST OF UNITY

CHAPTER 10 THE DARKNESS OF KNIGHT

CHAPTER 11 REVENGE

CHAPTER 12 THE POWER OF LOVE

SNEAK PEEK

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Introduction

My lust was still not satisfied and I wanted more of him. My God, I had an insatiable need for his sex. Would he think of me as behaving like a whore if I simply rolled over and straddled his hips? Perchance impaling myself with his manhood, to the base of his massive shaft until the head of his swollen beast kissed the opening of my womb and eased the fire between my legs. I wondered what he would do if I rode him until I had milked him dry of all his future generations?

Perhaps, I thought, I should continue my attempts to find sleep. He had, after all just returned, and was, no doubt, exhausted.

I lay still as the cool fingers of the evening breeze from the slightly opened window in our quarters brushed across my face. In our haste, I had forgotten to close it and stir the coals in the hearth before I had gone to bed. Now I regretted it as I knew the night would only grew colder. However, despite my discomfort from the chill, I noticed a faint smell of jasmine in the air, which soothed my senses and relaxed me. I snuggled deeper into my pillow and took a big sniff – filling my lungs with the sultry sweet smell and sighed happily. Spring was always welcomed with great reverence on this island where sunshine and warmth were true blessings from the lord, God. Seemingly, the warmer days and shorter nights had finally arrived in Badon. Being so early in the season, we had yet to feel warmth from the sun’s rays during the day or the residuals of its heat against our stonewalls at night.

A sliver of moonlight peeked through an opening in the tapestries and reflected off my looking glass, enabling me to see in the otherwise pitch darkness of my room. Everything in our quarters appeared, as it should so I was not sure what had awakened me from the best night’s sleep I had had in a fortnight. Seasons past, I had been plagued with nightmares – I always was when they were away – but a nightmare had not awakened me on this night. Conceivably, it had been…I shook my head vigorously to rid my thoughts of him. Dear God, he had plagued my thoughts and dreams too much and I desperately wanted to shake the image of him from my mind. I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut, erasing his face from my mind’s eye, and scrubbing his memories from my conscience.

When satisfied I had successfully ridden myself of the past’s ghosts, I contemplated the treachery of leaving the warm comfort of the furs on my bed to encourage sleep to come my way. Through the window, I could hear voices of townsfolk in the distance, probably those going and coming from the tavern. I smiled in the darkness while listening to the revelers, happy they were having a good time. I gave a silent prayer, giving God reverence for his mercy and giving us all a second chance at having a life of peace and unity. When I had finished paying homage, I took in another deep breath of the sweet smell of jasmine, filling my lungs, before I slowly let it out through pursed lips.

There was a slight stir beside me followed by a raucous snore. I giggled at what I considered the most beautiful sound in the world. Perhaps I would get lucky again and he would make love to me once more. I rolled over onto my side and reached out into the darkness until my fingertips touched bare skin. Spreading my fingers, I slid my hand across his strong, wide back. With a feathery touch, I lovingly traced the scars that covered his shoulder blades, which resembled a large and bumpy road map. They were akin to badges of honor and they represented his long years of fighting, each scar telling its own tale of war and, fortunately, victory. I could only make out the outline of his form, but it did not matter. His body was familiar to me; I knew every curve and muscle of him, even in the darkness.

I moved closer to him, forming my body to his, spooning his buttocks against my stomach. I slid my arm through his, stroking his strong body from the soft, fine hairs on his chest, over his firm, flat stomach, to the equally soft, fine hairs that disappeared below the material of his night trousers. I pressed my ear to the hollow between his shoulder blades and felt his body rise and fall as he breathed lightly and evenly, emitting that raunchy snore every now and then. I stifled another laugh as I listened to his heart beating; a strong, rhythmic droning; a resilient heart; a warrior’s heart; a king’s heart. I thanked God once more for the man who slept peacefully beside me; he, who survived to return to me. Without him, I would cease to breathe.

I snuggled even closer to him, molding my body to his, breathing in his scent, becoming aroused by his body, by his smell…by him. My movements against his body awakened him; he was a light sleeper, and he moaned from drowsiness before he rolled over to face me. He smiled and even in the darkness, I could see how handsome he was; his strong jaw line and full sensuous lips. A lone strand of hair hung in the center of his forehead and his eyes were mere slits from having just been awakened. I knew in the darkness, he could not see the tear that ran down my cheek as he moved his face closer and pressed his soft lips against my mouth. I kissed him back, softly at first and then more urgently as his lips parted and his tongue hungrily sought mine.

Wrapping a powerful arm around me, he pulled me closer to him with one hand and pushed up my chemise with the other, exposing my breasts. His large hands roamed seductively over my body, starting at my collarbone, then moving over the mounds of my breasts, down the curve of my hip and then pushing between my thighs. I bit my bottom lip as I felt my womb clench, a dull ache of want spreading through my abdomen. He moaned and whispered in honeyed tones just how much he had missed me while he had been away in battle. I told him how life for me had all but stopped until he had returned.

I spread my wings for him as he rubbed my wet core. I arched my back once he had found what he had been looking for; that sweet, sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. I hissed as he manipulated the swollen nodule just inside my body’s opening and quietly begged him for mercy, without meaning a single word of it. Ignoring my pleas and knowing I did not want him to stop, he sent me to heaven; causing me to cry out and thrash about as my orgasm crashed me along the surf and into the rocks. My body convulsed with spasms of pleasure and tears flowed freely down my hot cheeks. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him to me in a tight embrace. He kissed me again, slowly, passionately as though we were the only two people on earth with all the time in the world to love each other. Gently pushing my knees apart even further, he positioned himself on top of me, and I opened wide for him, like a blossoming flower.

The wind must have caused the tapestries at the window to shift because suddenly, the moonlight illuminated his face so I could see the twinkle in his emerald green eyes as he smiled. He held the purest form of love on his face as he lowered his body. He thrust his hips forward, burrowing his rock hard length deep inside me, filling me with one strong and powerful stroke. I moaned with utter contentment and whispered his name…

Arthur.

Chapter 1

The Beginning

Lucius Artorius Castus had just returned to the Keep with his knights after two long months of duty. After their arrival at the fortress, Arthur secured his horse, secured his weapons and armor, and then dismissed his men. He walked the short distance to the bath that had been prepared for him where he could wash and rid himself of Saxon blood and guts before going to his wife and their bed. Arthur groaned as he bent over and struggled once more with the elusive knot in the strings of his boots. He had been tugging at the menacing things for what seemed like an eternity. When he was finally resolved to unsheathe the knife he kept on his hip and cut them, they suddenly gave way to his coaxing and loosened. Straightening his back, he sighed heavily and leaned against the stable wall to toe off the leather, which had constrained his tired, aching feet. When the smell of his toes reached his nostrils however, the commander could not help but cringe.

Arthur stretched his long legs and raised his arms way above his head as he arched his back and yawned. He and the men had ridden hard to get back to the fortress. They were dirty, tired, and hungry but had arrived victorious in their mission.

The Roman, tired and a bit weary, stumbled over to the basin, which Caels had so thoughtfully filled for him. He cringed as his stiff and dirty leather trousers scraped against his tender thighs and he longed to shed his body of them. After three days of pushing their horses to get home, the leather had rubbed against his flesh, his skin was burning and near raw from chafing. Arthur looked at his dirt encrusted feet and could only imagine what the rest of his body looked like. He normally took great care of his feet – washing them and drying them carefully and mindful to change his socks at least once every other day. He was in such a rush to get back home he had not afforded himself the luxury on the return trip. He and his men had only stopped long enough to rest the horses and to replenish their water supplies.

Cupping his large hands and dipping them into the basin, the commander scooped up the cool water and splashed it upon his face and then wiped his hands down from his forehead to his chin. He let out a loud groan of pleasure and continued in the same manner several more times.

Lifting his tunic over his head, he caught a whiff of his under arm odor and gagged. He tossed his tunic to the stable floor for Caels or one of his hands to gather and take to the washerwomen. The commander was taking great pride in grooming himself before returning to his chambers, despite his anxiety to work quickly and get to her. Although his desire was great, he did not want to offend her and therefore took his time so his lady would be pleased. He washed his hair, ridding his thick, long locks of twigs and an occasional blade of grass then squeezed the excess water before concentrating on the rest of his beautiful body.

Lathering a sponge Caels had also left for him, Arthur scrubbed under his arms and then over and around his chest, paying close attention not to miss a spot. He watched as a trail of dirt slid down between the valley of his pectorals and onto the floor. Untying his leathers which, thanks be to God, were much easier to loosen than his boots had been, he stepped out of them and kicked them to the side near his tunic.

His semi-erect cock bobbed as he washed, suds forming on the trail of soft hairs that ran down his abdomen and to the black tuft of hair around his groin. The cool water felt good against the heat of his hardness and he could not help but stroke himself once or twice before cleaning beneath the base of his shaft. He thoroughly washed away the musky smell on the twin balls between his legs and then turned his attention toward cleaning between the crevice of his rear cheeks. Throwing his sponge to the side, Arthur lifted the basin with ease, placed it on the wooden floor, and then stepped into it. He threw his head back and sighed heavily as his tired feet hit the refreshing water. Drops of water fell from his wet hair slid down the hollow of his large back and over his firm, round buttocks. He bent over in his full moon glory and washed his feet by hand, conscientiously cleaning between each toe with tender loving care.

When Arthur was confident he had bathed thoroughly and was deliciously clean, he grabbed his lamb’s wool cowl and stepped into his leather moccasins (he would have to add an extra coin in Caels’ pay packet) and then wrapped the soft garment around his tall frame, tying the rope belt securely. The commander knew he could have washed in the Roman bath, but sometimes he preferred the simpler things. He was, after all, a very humble servant.

Stepping over his smelly, filthy clothes, Arthur walked to the back of the stable and exited through the servants’ door knowing he would most likely go undetected by going that way. He padded quickly across the narrow stone passageway and pushed open the heavy wooden door, which led to his chambers.

Grabbing a torch from one of the wall sconces, the commander hunched down so as not to bump his head and made his way through the dark, narrow corridor, passing several closed wooden doors en route. There were no sounds on the other side of the doors which meant his knights were already either sleeping or had gone to the tavern to play games, buy women or food and drink. As he got closer to his quarters, Arthur’s erection returned, as he knew he was only moments away from sheathing his passion in the wet, warmth of her body.

As he approached the door to his own room, the commander placed the torch into its proper place on the wall and rose to his full height. His cock now strained against his clothing as though it knew it would be satisfied in just mere moments. Opening the door, Arthur walked into the room.

I had been reading and looked up when I heard the knob on the door turn.

Artorius? I gasped. Thank the Lord God!

I dropped my book with my mouth gaped. I suddenly snapped it shut when I realized I was not staring at an apparition. I jumped from my chair and quickly closed the distance between us.

You have come back to me, I whispered, throwing my quivering body into his open embrace.

He smelled fresh and clean and his body was as strong and firm as it had been when he and his men had left.

We stood together, wrapped in each other’s embrace, hugging and kissing – our bodies saying what our mouths did not need to. I ran my hands over his body - his chest, his back, his sides - making sure he had not been injured.

I missed you, he growled as he grabbed my hand and led me toward our bed, stopping to blow out candles along the way.

And I missed you, I whispered back as I followed him, my hand firmly enclosed in his. My breathing became rapid and my head spun.

I have great need, Carlota, he said once we had arrived bedside.

As do I, Artorius, I replied breathlessly.

He bent down at my feet where he grabbed my rail and lifted it over my head. He tossed the garment into a chair beside the bed and quickly untied his cowl – his cock bouncing in gratitude from its release.

Circling his arms around me, he lowered me onto the bed and locked his lips onto mine. He hovered over me, drops of water from his wet hair, falling onto my bare chest. I spread wide for him and pressed my head into the pillow. All of the worry and tension I had felt just previously was now lost in the lust in my husband’s eyes. Arthur smiled when he saw my glistening welcome and lowered himself over me, poising for penetration. Our bodies connected in one swift movement of sheer desperation and the sweetness was rapture. I cried out to him, saying his name as he moved inside me, seemingly effortlessly, burrowing deeper into my core. He was just as much a master in our chamber as he was on the battlefield. I felt my release coming upon me swiftly as he quickened his pace. Arthur and I peaked at the same time and our breathing was ragged. We remained in a lover’s embrace for quite awhile, not separating ourselves until our breathing became normal once more. We made love for what seemed like hours. It was a night of re-acquaintance, a night of intimacy and compassion, a night of longing and reawakening, a night of raw love and passion.

~~~

I tightened the collar of my heavy, wolf’s fur mantle as the morning breeze blew across the parapet where I stood. I looked over the fortress and at Hadrian’s Wall looming in the distance. I watched intently as just a sliver of the sun suddenly peeked over the horizon in a sky painted a brilliant assortment of purples, yellows and oranges; a reward for my early rising to greet him. Already the smell of baking bread wafted through air, causing my stomach to rumble. I closed