Sir Gerard Fogg, knight in the Royal Guard of the kingdom of Algonwick, is in love with the King's only son, Prince Tristan Fysher. The two men carry on a secret, sexual affair and proclaim their undying love for one another, only to have it torn apart by an intruder from the future. A white supremacist named Malcolm, stumbling on a time portal between 2006 and their time of 1456, commits murderous acts and escapes to the future.
Sentenced to death for failing to carry out his duties, Gerard is freed by the King's advisor, Ranulf Godfrey, the one man who knows where to find the murdering Malcolm. The two men travel through time to 2006 to discover the castle they love in ruins and a handsome young researcher named Jon Calder cataloging the artifacts of Algonwick's forgotten age. Jon, who has never felt as though he fit in anywhere except the ruins of this castle, is drawn to the men, Gerard in particular. As Gerard and Jon embark on a journey of sexual discovery more than 500 years in the making, the murderous Malcolm circles ever closer.
As Gerard stood in the shade of the canvas, arms crossed over his bare chest, he heard the rustle of someone entering the tent behind him and, turning, found it was Tristan. His heart soared.
“Quite a sight you are, my knight,” Tristan said, looking around the tent to make certain they were alone, then stepping close. “Your skills in battle are second only to your skills in love.” Tristan took Gerard’s hand and placed it on his chest. “My heart beats more swiftly after I watched you in battle, even now with you the victor. Though I knew it was all a ruse, I feared you would be cut down by another and drop to the field as though dead.” Tristan’s eyes darkened. “I could not bear to see that, even in mockery. I cannot imagine a life without you.”
READ MOREGerard leaned down and kissed him softly; then, moving his lips to Tristan’s ear, with a flick of his tongue, he whispered, “You shall never be free of me, love. Even apart, we are still as close as this.”
Tristan trailed the fingers of his left hand through the hair on Gerard’s chest and dropped his face into the hollow of Gerard’s shoulder, where he took a deep breath. “The aroma of your exertion rouses something within me.”
Gerard reached down to cup the fattening bulge within Tristan’s breeches. “I see what you mean, my prince.”
Voices approached outside the tent, and they quickly stepped apart. Tristan’s eyes shone with lust as he whispered, “Tonight we shall lie together in my chambers. Take the back stairs to the top and step to the right. I shall hang this chain on the catch.” Tristan lifted a chain made of delicate silver links. Gerard nodded, and a moment later, the tent flap flew up and two knights strode in. When they saw Tristan, each fell to one knee and bowed his head.
“My prince!” the men said in unison.
Tristan held Gerard’s gaze a moment longer, then turned to face the men and said with a touch of disdain in his voice, “You may rise, fallen knights of my father’s army.”
The men got to their feet, and their eyes widened at the sight of Gerard standing bare-chested before the prince. Tristan noted their reactions and turned to deliver a smirk in Gerard’s direction.
“He has a strong will, does he not?” Tristan said, his voice regal but admiring. “I came to congratulate him on his win, and here he stands half-unclothed before me. Such a knight has a firm conviction of his place. You could both learn from his example.”
“I thank you, my prince,” Gerard replied and bowed his head. “All my efforts in battle are done for Algonwick and its royal family.”
Tristan nodded. “The royal family commends your skill in battle.”
Gerard dropped to one knee and held his fist over his heart, bowing his head and saying, “For love of country and the royal crest of Algonwick.”
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