She Owns the Knight Read Online Free PDF

Would she wake at any moment? Or would they kill her when they’d finished, with no resistance whatsoever from her?
    Anger built in her chest, sharp and stinging. She had to wake up. She wouldn’t let them kill her. She would survive this. She’d come to her senses and defend herself. She was strong and could handle this.
    She had to fight!
    She had to live!
    She definitely had to wake up.
    Gillian tried to will herself back to the scene of her assault and attempted murder. She needed to defend herself before she actually was murdered.
    She closed her eyes. Wake up . . . wake up now . . . wakey wakey time . . .
    Nothing.
    She opened her eyes. All she could hear, see and . . . smell . . . were the knight, his horse, and the village.
    Anger and heat emanated off the knight. As it should. He should be very angry at the way she was being attacked back in the real world. Like any good imaginary knight worth his salt would be.
    She glanced up at him, impressed all over again at what a really great imagination she had. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges. His face was hard, all angles and planes, his jaw as rugged as any Hollywood hero’s.
    But the possessive way his gaze roamed her face and blanket-wrapped body, lingering on the skin above her tee-shirt, sent a little thrill through her. Her feminine side couldn’t be more pleased with him. He really was her perfect dream knight.
    His hair, long, thick, and dark, stuck to his thickly muscled neck. His chest was hard and seemed to simply bulge with power. She shivered. The better to protect her with.
    She reached out to lightly touch his chest, wondering if it was the chain mail that made him seem so big, but under a thin layer of chain, it was warm muscle flexing.
    Their eyes met, and she barely resisted a fangirl-type sigh. His gaze was bright against his tanned face, his lashes and brows as dark as his hair, and the combination was startling. She could feel a sappy smile forming on her lips.
    He was really a good-looking guy in a rough-and-tumble sort of fashion. And the possessive way he held her, the way he looked at her, made her feel incredibly beautiful and feminine. Not bad for an illusion. Maybe she shouldn’t be in such a hurry to leave.
    As they started to cross the drawbridge, the horses’ hooves struck hollow notes against the wood, distracting her, and she looked down into a stream of murky water. “Are you serious? There’s an actual moat around the castle?” The detail in her hallucination was amazing. “Aye. All my fortifications are strong.”
    Strong like him. Feeling very safe, she laid her cheek against her knight’s chest and when his arms tightened around her, melted into him.
    Why not feel the comfort he could offer before returning to the nightmare her life had become? She hadn’t had a man’s arms wrapped around her like this since . . . well, she never had. Certainly not like this, and not with a man like him.
    Another feminine trill of excitement caught her off guard and she shivered. He was everything he should be. Everything a knight and hero ought to be. And for the moment, he was hers.

    ***

    They traveled under the rusted spikes of the raised portcullis, its dangerous teeth pointed menacingly downward. Seconds later they were fully enclosed in the darkened, walled passageway of the gatehouse, and Gillian glanced at the ceiling and spotted a murder hole.
    She knew from artistic research it was used to drop boiling water or rocks onto the trapped and unsuspecting. There was a balcony, slits in the walls to fire arrows through, and a well-protected stairwell to maneuver weapons from above. In other words, the place was a death trap to invaders.
    One of these days she was going to depict the inside of a gatehouse and make it spooky, dark, and exciting. She was sure the paintings would sell.
    If she were still alive.
    The sound of the horses’ hooves rang loud in the enclosed space as they moved single file through the enclosure,