“Aye, always the turnips prove a difficulty.” He turned his head slightly, distracted. “Someone comes.”
Nicole didn’t need to be told to leave the road far enough so she couldn’t be seen. Rhodri limped into the woods behind her but, with his lack of grace, didn’t handle the suddenly steep slope of the forest floor as nimbly as she. He stumbled, lost his footing, and slid down the small hill.
She glanced behind her toward the road. They hadn’t gone far enough for safety. Even if they pressed up against the hill, they could be seen by anyone who cared to take a close look.
And the only ones who might look closely would be members of the earl’s patrols.
“Nicole, come down here,” he ordered.
Rhodri would not be pleased with what she was about to do, but damn, the possibilities running through her head were simply too insistent to ignore. She stood up, wrapped the brown blanket around her to cloak the blue of her gown, and headed back toward the road.
Rhodri harshly whispered her name. She ignored the summons, crouching behind a leafy bush, straining to see what they’d heard. A cart came into view, pulled by two oxen.
No patrol, this!
She hurried back down to Rhodri, who fair glowered his displeasure. Nicole ignored his anger, caught up in her excitement.
“’Tis a farmer, his wife, and three children that I can see. The cart does not appear full. Rhodri, perhaps we can beg a ride, maybe even a night’s lodging in their barn.”
Rhodri shook his head emphatically. Nicole wanted to shake
him
.
“You
must
rest your ankle,” she argued, “and I do
not
wish to spend the night in the open if we need not!”
He still shook his head.
The sounds from the road changed subtly, from the cart coming toward them to passing them by. Why would not the man see reason?
“If we ride, ’twill give us the day’s distance you desired, in comfort. Rhodri, I beg you, allow me to ask their assistance.”
He sighed. “We have no means to pay them.”
“People have been known to extend hospitality out of the goodness of their hearts. We cannot know unless I try. I vow, I will do so with caution.”
Rhodri stared at her a long time, the sound of plodding oxen and creaking cart wheels becoming fainter. “Tell them I will make the trouble worth their while.”
Elated, Nicole didn’t ponder how Rhodri intended to do so, just swiftly climbed the hill and ran up the road, hailing the farmer.
R
hodri’s goal in life was to become a
pencerdd,
the duties of which included training future bards.
Right now, seated on the dirt floor of a one-room cottage, he taught a wee girl to pluck out a tune on his harp.
The girl’s eyes shone with joy at her accomplishment, and the mother’s gratitude for entertaining the girl while she and Nicole cleared away the remnants of the evening meal gladdened his heart and made him feel less a burden on people who could hardly afford the generosity of two added people at their supper table.
Damn, but the simple hot stew had tasted of heaven. The bread might have been made of coarse brown flour, but it satisfied in ways only poetry could describe.
On the morrow, he would make a spectacular recovery. Before he and Nicole left, he would help the farmer and the two young boys with morning chores. For now, he would sit here and play the invalid because it so pleased Nicole.
Earlier, she’d coated his ankle with moss, wrapped it in linen, and
ordered
him to stay put. She’d made such a fuss over taking care of him that he’d lost the heart to tell her, again, that his ankle didn’t hurt as much as she believed.
She flashed him a smile as she passed by, hauling cleaned bowls to a crate in the corner. Earlier, she’d chopped cabbage to add to the stew, working alongside a peasant as if she weren’t a noblewoman. As if she knew how to cook.
The farmer’s wife knew the difference. She’d called Nicole “milady” from the first and given her the simplest of tasks.
While Rhodri enjoyed his meal from his place on the floor, Nicole had eaten at the table with the family, all smiles and good cheer, most agreeable to comparing remedies for various aches and ills with the farmer’s wife.
Talk at the table had turned to news of the area, and Rhodri had a better notion of how far he and Nicole had come. This farm was a bit west of Swindon, the small market town he and Nicole had skirted around this morn, where the farmer had traded eggs to a blacksmith for mending a kettle.
’Twas also where Nicole had slowed when, at the end of town, they’d come upon a church and its graveyard. Whether a spirit had called out to her, or if she answered, she hadn’t said. Nor had he asked her, too wary of the strange ability she claimed to possess to want to know more.
In his head, Rhodri knew that henceforth he must guard against surrendering to Nicole’s whims. Had he not chased the damn pig because Nicole craved roasted pork, his ankle wouldn’t be sore, and she wouldn’t be overly pampering him. But then, had he not recognized her desperate need for a roof over their heads tonight, they wouldn’t have enjoyed so good a supper.
Resisting Nicole’s pleas proved almost futile. Each time she cast her doe-brown eyes his way, his insides reacted foolishly. Betimes he softened to dangerous weakness, and at others he felt able to slay the dragons of old. And always he wanted her, his desire becoming an uncomfortably familiar ache in his loins.
He shifted slightly to resettle the little girl on his lap so she wouldn’t feel his body’s response to the lusty thoughts he shouldn’t be allowing.
The girl’s mother saw him move and clapped her hands. “Come, minx. The harper’s legs will be going numb if ye do not get off them. ’Tis time for ye to ready for the night, anyway.”
The girl rose reluctantly and went straightaway to her mother, who scooped her up and climbed the ladder to the loft.
Nicole sat down beside him. “You do well with children,” she said quietly, referring to his entertaining the little ones at the abbey.
“’Tis the harp they are drawn to, not me.”
“As you say,” she commented, not truly taking him at his word. “How does your ankle? Does the wrapping ease the pain?”
The memory of Nicole’s hands patting the moss around his ankle, her gentle fingers causing tingles to creep up his leg, made other parts of him beg all the more for attention. He refused to burst her current contentment by telling her the coddling hadn’t been necessary.
“Why the moss?” he asked, truly curious.
She shrugged a shoulder. “Sister Enid believed it eased aches. I imagine that even if the moss does not aid healing, it cannot do harm. A full night’s rest is sure to do the injury good, moss or no.”
True enough.
“I feel rather useless sitting here, rather like a two-legged stool.”
She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “Play your harp. That is how you thought to reward the family for their trouble, is it not?”
It was, so he played, gay tunes at first. After the boys clambered up into the loft for bed, Rhodri chose lilting melodies. The fire in the hearth had burned low and eyelids drooped before the mistress of the house declared it time for sleep.
“Milady, we would be honored if the two of ye would accept the use of our pallet.”
Jolted from the calm he’d effected with his music, Rhodri glanced at the drapery hanging in the corner. Knowing what was behind it, his now unruly parts urged Nicole to accept.
She held up a hand, palm outward. “You have been kindness itself to take us into your home and feed us. I thank you for your generous offer but will not deprive you of your bed and proper rest. We are content where we are.”
Rhodri forced an agreeing smile.
The wife looked unhappy but resigned. “Another blanket, then?”
Nicole agreed to the offer, and after a round of good wishes for a pleasant night, the farmer followed his wife into their snug little nest behind the drapery.
As she had for several nights, Nicole wrapped up in her blanket, but unlike other nights, she now stretched out beside him, well within arm’s length. In the quiet, he could hear her breathe.
Too close,
his common sense warned.
Not close enough,
his base self countered. Not even if he rolled onto his side to face the wall could his body ignore her nearness. So he remained on his back, successfully keeping his hands from reaching out to pull Nicole closer.
She squirmed, then rose up on an elbow. “Why is it I have slept on the ground all this while without trouble but tonight cannot find comfort?”
He knew why
he
couldn’t find comfort. Was Nicole’s reason the same? Best if he didn’t know.
“Not tired?”
“Not tired enough to sleep, apparently.”
“Try anyway. We must put a few leagues behind us on the morrow. ’Tis too dangerous to remain here, both for us and for our hosts. I should hate for this family to come to harm for sheltering us.”
She glanced at the drapery. “I agree. How much farther must we travel until we are out of the earl’s reach?”
They wouldn’t be entirely safe until they crossed the Welsh border. He didn’t like adding the days he must allow because he didn’t know this part of England very well. He’d taken a more direct, northerly route on his way from Glenvair to Bledloe Abbey to fetch Nicole.
“A sennight, perhaps more, depending upon how much trouble we have crossing rivers. Let us hope there are bridges aplenty and no toll is required for the crossing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If there are no bridges?”
“Then we ford the rivers.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I know not how to swim.”
“We will find a way to cross, never fear.”
Except Nicole did fear, despite his assurance, and the woman certainly had reason for concern. “Perhaps we can find a boatman to take us across.”
“Ferries cost coin, and we have none.”
Too true.
The more difficult she made the journey sound, the more obstacles she tossed in his way, the more resolute he was to overcome them.
He rolled to his side and rose up on an elbow to face her.
“I give you my oath, we will cross the rivers without mishap. Nicole, why do you expect the worst?”
“I do not… I.” She closed her mouth, her shoulders slumping. “These days, I do not know what to expect. At the abbey, I knew from the moment of rising how the hours of my day would progress. Prayer, meals, sleep—all were done in order, by the bell. I have lost the pattern of my days, and I find that disconcerting.”
He brushed back a lock of reddish-brown hair that had come loose from her waist-length braid. “’Tis merely a new pattern.”
“An ungainly pattern.”
Rhodri wasn’t sure who leaned toward the other first, but when his lips touched Nicole’s, he didn’t care. When their mouths melded, he couldn’t think beyond enjoying the taste of Nicole and noticing how perfectly his hand fitted the curve of her waist.
Nothing was so natural as lowering her to the floor, and nothing so grand as her soft body beneath him. Unless it was the splendor of her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers twining into his hair, holding him firmly in place.
Nothing would have stopped him from raising her skirt and lowering his breeches except the knowledge that he might hurt her. Oh, he would love to be the first to sink into her virgin’s depths, but breaking a maidenhead took time and care and betimes caused enough pain for a woman to cry out.
If Nicole cried out, she would alert the household. Besides, her first coupling should be done properly, in a comfortable bed with privacy ensured. Not on the dirt floor of a farmer’s cottage.
“This is new to me, too,” she whispered.
If Nicole had been fully raised in a castle, and not in a nunnery, some lad would have surely found a way to kiss Nicole. Rhodri was suddenly perversely glad she’d been sent, at a young age, to reside among the nuns.
“Do my kisses frighten you?”
“A bit, but not as much as the thought of fording a river.”
“Once we cross the Avon, we will be in territory still very loyal to the rebellion, where the earl’s royalist patrols dare not roam too freely. There we should be able to find an inn or two where I can earn some coin to make the rest of our journey less difficult.”
Her fingers slid along his whisker-laden jaw in what he was sure was an innocent exploration, making him wonder which of them would be more familiar with the other when they were finally able to couple.
“Innkeepers allow you to play your harp in the taproom. That is how you earned your way from Wales to Bledloe Abbey, is it not?”
“Patrons can be generous, and if business is good, sometimes the innkeeper allows me free board.”
And bed, which could be shared and put to vigorous use.
Rhodri indulged in one more kiss before he forced himself to roll off Nicole and onto his back. With every fiber of his being aware of the woman beside him, he looked forward to the oblivion of sleep.
Except the woman didn’t accept his abandonment. Nicole brazenly snuggled up to his side, tossed an arm over his chest, and laid her head on his shoulder.
He breathed in her scent, felt the rise and fall of her bosom, noted the graceful, possessive weight of her arm across his chest, knowing he should be content with having earned her trust.
Hellfire. He wasn’t a callow youth with scant control over his lust, but it was damn hard to resist such enticement to unleash the demon, even if the woman who so naively lay in his arms didn’t know precisely what havoc she invited.
Using every dram of his resolve, Rhodri managed to lie still while he fought the demon, not winning until the wee hours of the morn.
Three days later, Nicole was nearly ready to walk back to Oxford and throw herself on the earl’s mercy.
From a position of concealment among the trees along the road, she observed the men who stood between her and easy passage over the Avon. Two soldiers, garbed in the earl’s livery, shared a jest with the man who collected the toll to cross the lovely wooden bridge. She also saw the soldiers’ horses—beautiful brown, strong-legged animals.