Mystique (23 page)

Alice shuddered delicately. “I cannot imagine why. The rude conversation and the crude jests are enough to ruin any meal. I have no interest in the obnoxious chatter about weapons and jousts, nor in all that talk of the glories of past battles or the hunt.”

“You do not comprehend. One of the ways in which a lord secures the bonds between himself and those who serve him is by dining with them.” Hugh munched bread. “A strong lord is as tied to those who depend upon him as they are to him. He must let them see that he respects them and appreciates their loyalty.”

“And he does that by dining with them?”

“Aye. ‘Tis one of the ways he accomplishes it.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Alice smiled in sudden comprehension. “I wondered why a man as intelligent as you was willing to tolerate the coarse manners that are so common in great halls.”

“One grows accustomed to it.”

“I do not think that I could ever grow accustomed to having every meal ruined by such conversation and activities. It must be very difficult for you to face the future knowing that you will have to make such a great sacrifice every day of your life.”

Annoyance flashed briefly in Hugh’s eyes. “I do not consider it such a great sacrifice. We do not all share your fine sensibilities. The talk of arms and armor is not dull to a knight, madam. ‘Tis business.”

“And the rude jests and the laughter and the lamentable manners of your companions? Do you enjoy those, too?”

“They are normal enough when men gather over food and drink.”

“True.” Alice bit off another bite of bread.

“As I said, dining in one’s great hall is a matter of
respect and loyalty.” Hugh paused. “In most households, the lord’s lady joins him at table.”

“So I have been told, but I cannot imagine any lady wanting to do so.”

“She does so for reasons similar to those that oblige her lord to dine with his people.” Hugh sounded as though he were speaking through clenched teeth.

Alice ceased chewing. “For reasons of respect and loyalty?”

“Aye. She sits beside him in the presence of their people so that all will see that she respects her lord and is loyal to him.”

Alice sucked in her breath and tried to swallow her bread at the same instant. She promptly sputtered, gasped for air, and began to cough.

Hugh frowned in concern. He reached out and slapped her forcefully between her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“Aye,” she managed. She caught her breath and swallowed several times to get rid of the wayward bite. “I’m fine.”

“I’m pleased to hear that.”

Silence fell again. This time Alice was not relieved. She felt oddly discomfited.

Mayhap Hugh believed that her refusal to eat in the great hall was a sign of her lack of respect for him. She wondered if his men and the others in Scarcliffe Keep thought her unloyal.

“Alice, I would have you tell me precisely why you cannot make up your mind to marry me,” Hugh said. “‘Tis the reasonable, practical, logical thing to do.”

Alice shut her eyes. “I thought we had finished with that topic for today.”

“If you tell me why you hesitate, I will be able to do something to correct the matter.”

It was too much. Alice lost her patience. “Very well, my lord, I shall be blunt. If I am to wed, I would prefer that it be for reasons of true affection, not efficiency and convenience.”

Hugh went very still. His eyes locked with hers. “Affection?”

“Aye. Affection. My mother married a man who wanted nothing more from her than an heir and someone to manage his household. She was doomed to great loneliness with only her studies to comfort her.”

“She had you and your brother.”

“We were not enough,” Alice said bitterly. “They say my mother died from poison, but in truth, I think she died of a broken heart. I will not make the same mistake that she made.”

“Alice—”

“I prefer the peace and tranquillity of the convent to a marriage that is barren of affection. Now do you understand my hesitation, my lord?”

He watched her warily. “You wish to be wooed? Very well, madam, I shall attempt a proper wooing, but I must warn you that I have no great skill in such matters.”

Alice leaped to her feet, her temper in full blaze. “My lord, you are missing the point here. I do not want a false wooing. You may save your flowers and poems. I speak of love. That is what I require.
Love.”

Comprehension lit his eyes. He got to his feet and reached for her. “So ‘tis passion you want, after all. Rest assured that you shall have all you wish of that commodity.”

He covered her mouth with his own before Alice could even begin to lecture him on his grave misunderstanding.

For a few seconds she raged in silence and then it struck her that passion might well be all that Hugh could give her at this time.

It might also be the one emotion that could lead him to love.

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the love that had flowered in her heart since the first night she saw him.

E
lation crashed through Hugh with the force of a great sea wave when he felt Alice soften against him. He had been correct in his assessment of the situation. Passion was the key to unlocking this sweet, well-defended keep, he thought.

Alice wanted him. Her womanly desire was the richest, most intoxicating of rare spices.

He fitted his hands to the curves of her firm, rounded buttocks and lifted her up high against his chest. He felt her arms tighten around his neck and heard her whispered gasp. Deliberately he crushed her to him, letting her feel his fully aroused manhood.

“My lord, you have the most astounding effect on my senses.” Alice kissed his throat. “I vow, I do not comprehend it.”

“This is what the poets call love.” Hugh tugged the woven mesh net from her hair, allowing the red tresses to spill over her shoulders. “Myself, I have always believed that passion is a more honest word for such emotion.”

She raised her head from his shoulder. For a moment her eyes met his. He thought he would drown in their emerald depths. “You are wrong, my lord. My mother’s
experience taught me that passion by itself is not love. But I begin to believe that the two may be bound together.”

Hugh smiled wryly. “I confess that I am beyond engaging in a reasoned argument about the subject at the moment, Alice.”

“But, my lord, I think the distinction between the two is very important.”

“Nay. ‘Tis not at all important.” Hugh silenced her with his mouth.

He did not release her until her lips had parted beneath his and she clung to him so tightly he knew she could not, of her own accord, let go. Only then did he ease himself away from her long enough to unbuckle his sword belt and remove his black outer tunic.

She watched with brilliant eyes as he set the scabbard down close by. He was wryly chagrined to see that his hand shook slightly. He took a deep, steadying breath and then he spread his tunic on the stone floor of the cave.

The simple task seemed to require an enormous degree of concentration. When he was finished he straightened and looked at Alice from the other side of the makeshift bed.

He saw the shadows in her eyes and a terrible fear clawed at his guts.

Then, with a tremulous smile, she gave him her hand.

Hugh breathed a silent sigh of satisfaction and overwhelming relief. He lowered himself onto the black tunic and gently pulled Alice down to join him. Her skirts frothed around his thighs as she sprawled, warm and inviting, across his chest.

Her eyes widened with concern as she settled into place, “My lord, you will surely be mashed against the hard stone.”

He chuckled. “I have never had a softer quilt.”

She touched his cheek with her fingertips and wriggled into a more comfortable position. Hugh groaned as her gently rounded thighs pressed more firmly against his rigid shaft. Without warning the desire that smoldered within him flared into a searing blaze. He felt the flames devour the last vestiges of his control.

Alice wanted him and she was his betrothed wife. Nothing stood in his way. Nothing else mattered.

Hugh surrendered to the firestorm that he had ignited. He caught Alice’s face between his hands and kissed her with an urgency he could no longer conceal. To his soaring delight, she responded enthusiastically, if awkwardly, to the bruising kiss. He heard a muffled
mmmph
and then he almost laughed aloud as her teeth clinked against his own.

“Easy, my sweet,” he said into her mouth. “There is no need to swallow me whole. You shall have all you want of me before we have finished.”

She moaned and buried her fingers in his hair.

He cradled her head in place with one hand and reached down to raise the hem of her skirts. His palm slid along the length of her bare thigh all the way to the gentle curves above. He found the valley that divided the luscious hillocks and followed its course to the hot spring that awaited him.

“Hugh.”

He stroked her carefully, preparing her for his entry. He wanted her delirious with need so that she would not feel pain, if there was any, when he claimed her. He wanted everything to be perfect.

Thunder shook the skies. The rain was a gray curtain in front of the cavern mouth.

When Hugh fumbled with his undertunic and loosened his braies, Alice raised her head briefly to gaze down at him with passion-clouded eyes. For a few heart-stopping seconds he thought she was going to ask him to halt the lovemaking. He wondered, with an odd sense of detachment, if doing so would kill him on the spot.

“Hugh.”

The sound of his name on her lips made his blood pound. Excitement tore through him. She was thoroughly ensnared by their mutual passion, he told himself.

It would be a fine stratagem indeed, if Alice were to believe herself in love.

With a groan he crushed her mouth against his own and moved his hand between her thighs. Her murmurs of longing were sweeter than honeyed dates, more potent than an alchemist’s elixir. The more he tasted of her, the
more he hungered. Hugh was engulfed with a seemingly insatiable need.

He pulled Alice’s skirts up to her waist and eased her legs apart so that she straddled him. The scent of her dewy body filled him with an overpowering eagerness.

He freed himself completely from his braies and probed until he found the plumped, moist petals that hid the entrance to the secret citadel. He entered her with a care that strained his self-mastery to the limit. Her body was impossibly tight around him. It was as though he tried to ease himself through the narrow entrance of a cave passage.

It was as he had thought. She was a virgin.

He must be careful, Hugh told himself. He must not take this keep too quickly.

His jaw clenched with the effort to control his own need.

He stormed the fragile gates slowly, steadily, until both of their bodies were damp with perspiration. Alice’s nails bit through the fabric of his undertunic.

“You are well guarded,” he whispered hoarsely. “Am I hurting you?”

“Aye, a little.”

He closed his eyes, gathering himself, seeking restraint. “I would not have it so. Do you want me to stop?”

“Nay.”

Hugh breathed a small sigh of relief. In truth, he had not been certain that he possessed the will to halt what had been begun. “I shall proceed slowly,” he promised.

Alice eased aside the neck opening of his undertunic and nibbled gently at his shoulder. “I do not want you to proceed slowly. I would have done with this business quickly.”

He groaned. “This is supposed to be a pleasurable task, not one that requires fortitude.”

“Will you finish it when I give the command?”

He flexed his hands on her hips. “Mayhap you are right. It would be less painful if it were done swiftly.”

“Do it now then.” Without warning Alice sank her teeth into his shoulder.

“Blood of the devil.”
Startled by the small, sharp, and
wholly unexpected pain, Hugh instinctively tightened his hold on Alice, sucked in his breath, and surged upward.

Alice gave a muffled squeak but Hugh could not have retreated if he had wished. The last remnants of his self-mastery gave way as surely as the delicate barrier that had guarded Alice’s chastity.

Loosed from the bonds that he had used to govern himself for most of his life, Hugh drove deep into Alice. She clenched fiercely around him, snug and hot.

Outside the cave the storm reached its peak. Lightning flashed in the distance. The rain roared on the stony cliffs. The world shrank down to the cavern in which Hugh lay with Alice. Nothing else mattered, he thought. Nothing.

He heard Alice moan softly. He reached his hand down between his own body and hers, found the taut little nubbin of womanly flesh, and stroked.

She tensed and cried out. The delicate shivers rippled through her.

Hugh lifted himself again and again, thrusting deep into the tight passage until the world spun around him. Thunder shook the cliffs as his release rolled through him. It was a release far different from any he had ever known. For the first time in the whole of his thirty years he knew what it was to be consumed by passion. He understood why the poets wanted to give this intense sensation another, more glorious name.