Ruth A. Casie (14 page)

He gathered her into his arms and placed one hand at the small of her back.
She rested her head against his bare muscled chest.
Her soft fingers gently stroked him.
The anticipation was unbearable
,
but he waited.

With his eyes closed
,
he skimmed his hand over her body.
He was like a blind man memorizing each curve.
He explored the hollows of her back
,
traced over the flare of her hips
,
and glided down her thigh.
She cuddled closer
,
her soft curves molding to the contours of his hard body.

“
Mine
,”
he whispered softly into her hair.

“
Forever
,”
she responded.

He opened his eyes
,
and gently tilted her head up.
She looked at him.
His gaze traveled over her face and searched her passion-filled eyes.
Her trust and hunger sent the blood coursing through his veins.
He released her and she tucked her head back onto his chest.

Her warm fingertips traced the scars on his chest.
Each touch set off sparks of pleasure.
Her forefinger trailed down the mark under his collarbone.
He struggled to calm his body and submit to her intimate torture.
She followed the weal across his heart and stopped.
She laid soft kisses along the line.
He took in a quick breath and fought for control.
Her soft fingers continued down the long scar over his lower stomach.
He dare not move.
Every movement kindled the fire higher.
He thought he would burn to a cinder.

He placed a gentle
,
reverent kiss on her forehead.
Her eyes fluttered closed when he bent and covered her lips with his.
His kiss was long and deep.
Her lips parted
,
and he took full advantage slowly and tenderly.
The taste of berries was on her breath.
He swept his tongue inside her mouth and softly claimed her for his own.
The urgency of their kisses built until he thought he would burst.

Carefully he eased her down.
Her clothes gone
,
his hands seared a path from her neck
,
over her breasts
,
across her stomach
,
and down her thighs.
Her face was a mirror of her emotions.
Her desire turned to ecstasy.

Tenderly he kissed the base of her throat and left a trail of kisses to her breasts.
His hands roamed lovingly over them.
Gently he stroked and coaxed them
,
feeling them surge at his touch.
His hand lightly brushed her hardened nipples and she moaned.
His arousal was complete.

“
Mine.
”
The word slipped from his lips.

Raw hurt glittered from her vibrant green eyes.
“
By the king’s decree
,
m’lord?
”

“
No.
”
He tried to gather her close in his arms but she was gone.
“
Lisbeth.
”
He called to the empty room.
His heart squeezed in anguish.
She was truly lost to him
.

* * *

The morning sun, and a complaint from Prime, brought him back to the living. He sat at the table, his head in his hands. The reality of his loss was cold and exact.

“Alex.”

“Who’s there?” He glanced at the door but didn’t bother to get up.

Jamie rubbed his hands together. “Drinking are you? It’s no fun to drink alone. Did you save some for me?”

Alex peeked into the pitcher, turned it upside down, and shook it. “Not a drop—go get your own. Wait.” He held up his hand. “I’m the lord here and you’re my guest. I’ll get the ale.” He stood up on unsteady feet.

Jamie tapped him on the shoulder sending him back into the chair. “You stay put. I’ll get the ale myself. I wouldn’t want you cracking your head nor do I want to carry your dead weight up the cellar steps.” He left and moments later brought back a full pitcher.

“She’s tossed me over for Bryce.
Bryce
. She didn’t deny it. I thought... I thought...”

“For Bryce?”

“I told her not to leave Glen Kirk. We tracked her here, then to Ravencroft. Go look inside for yourself.” He pointed to the bedroom.

“I don’t have to look at the room. Go over everything again just as it happened. Don’t leave one thing out.” Jamie moved a chair by the hearth to the table. “What’s all this blood?”

“Lisbeth said it’s Bryce’s but he didn’t look like he’d been injured.”

Jamie searched the floor. He found droplets that led to the window. He went outside and a few minutes later returned. “You’re right. The blood isn’t Bryce’s. I found blood spots on the other side of the window and in the garden. They led to a dead rabbit in the hedgerow. It wasn’t killed by an animal. Its neck has been sliced open.”

Alex picked up his head and tried to think clearly. He remembered one of his men mentioning a dead rabbit.

“Did you ask her why she was at Ravencroft?” Jamie sat by the table, the ale forgotten.

“No.” Alex gave Jamie a questioning look. He held his head in his hands, his elbows on the table. “I asked her why she came here. I didn’t ask her why she was at Ravencroft.”

“She didn’t tell you why she was there?”

“No, Bryce did. I told him I’d come for Lisbeth, and he said she had asked for sanctuary, sanctuary from me.”

“What did you say?”

Alex leaned his back against the chair. “Why, I told Bryce she was mine, given to me by the king.”

“And she heard you?” Jamie slapped his hand on the table. “Did you explain to her afterward?” Jamie sat forward and jabbed his finger on the table to make his point clear.

“I did not. I told her we were married by proxy, nothing else.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” He got out of his chair and paced in front of Alex. “You’re a prideful man, Alex. Your pride is a good defense with your enemies, possibly even your king, but not with your woman. Pride won’t keep you warm at night nor bring a smile to your face, a laugh to your heart, or a babe to your arms. Pride can be cold and lonely.” He sat back down at the table.

“Faith.” Alex ran his hand through his hair, pulling at it more than smoothing it down. “I felt her eyes on my back while I stood there protecting her.”

“Protecting her! Possessing her is not protecting her.”

Alex faced Jamie totally sober. “If I told him anything else, she’d become his pawn and in more danger than you can imagine.”

“You think Bryce is the enemy?”

“That’s the thing of it. Bryce knows about the marriage. He knows it’s a directive from King Edward. There is nothing he could gain but to create difficulty between Lisbeth and me. Something was not right. It’s as if I faced a different man. Yes, an enemy. I knew she was in danger, and I had to get her out of there. I chose my words carefully when I evoked the king’s name. He could not argue, and that was what I wanted. I had to get her to safety.”

“So why do you think she was at Ravencroft?” Jamie’s brow was creased with worry.

“I don’t know. Bryce had to know I would come after her.” He felt the screams of frustration building inside him. He jumped out of his chair and sent it flying. “Faith. He’s outsmarted me, Jamie. I’ve done exactly what he intended. I declared Lisbeth my property, like livestock, given to me by the king. He wanted her to hear me.” He paced the room. “What’s Bryce up to?” He pounded his fist against the stone wall.

“Bryce knows you very well. He knows what you like, don’t like, where you excel, but most of all Bryce knows your fears,” said Jamie.

A flash of anger raced through Alex. “John told me she wanted to come to the lodge to see Laura. He reminded her I gave orders that everyone was to stay on the castle grounds. He never thought she would do otherwise.”

“She may have thought Laura was here and wanted to make certain she was safe. That’s like Lisbeth. I’m certain she didn’t go to Ravencroft for sanctuary. She’s the only person who can tell you.”

“I asked her if she slept with Bryce.”

“You asked her what?” Jamie bellowed.

“Look at the room. I found this.” He opened his palm revealing Bryce’s gold clasp. “I found it in the bed.” He clenched and unclenched his fists and paced in front of the window. “What was I to think?”

“You should have asked her what happened. If he was sleeping with Lisbeth, do you think he would disclose it to you? Jeopardize her? Especially with your king involved.”

“You’re right. I’m not—”

“I don’t see you have any choice. You’ve got to get the truth. Bryce certainly didn’t give you the whole of it.” Jamie got up.

“Jamie?” Alex asked as if he saw the man for the first time. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you finally noticed.” He slapped Alex on his back. “I came looking for your sorry arse when you didn’t arrive at Glen Kirk with the rest of your troop.”

“And why were you there?”

A large grin spread over the Scot’s face. “I heard Lisbeth was missing. I arrived when your men stormed through to the castle. I was relieved to see her but you were nowhere to be found. This was the last place I expected to find you.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“You’d best get back to Glen Kirk. Clean yourself before you return. You’ll scare them to death with the way you look. Whatever you do about Bryce, be careful.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve seen him in battle. He’s a ruthless enemy.”

Chapter Thirteen

Alex, his mind clear of the ale, entered the castle preoccupied with what he would say to Lisbeth. His ears picked out the sounds of grunts and fighting coming from the Great Hall. He dashed to the hall doors and threw them open. In front of him, to his relief, were his page, Peter and another boy practicing with their wooden swords. Alex, at first ready to dismiss the event, was caught by the intensity and style of their playing.

“Hold, Darby.” Peter put up his makeshift sword and faced Alex with a sheepish grin. Darby did the same.

Alex remained quiet and realized both boys breathed heavily. They weren’t playing; they were training. His interest piqued, he evaluated them with a leader’s eye. Peter was noticeably smaller than Darby and probably younger but he’d held his own in the fight. Actually, he was doing quite well. The boys were evenly matched.

“You boys do this often?”

Peter stepped forward. “It’s not Darby’s fault, sir. I kept after him. He’s the only one that gives me a good fight. We know the raiders threaten, and we want to be ready if you need us, sir.”

“Who taught you to use your sword, Peter?” From the boy’s very stance he knew he’d had some training.

“I’ve watched the men train and copy what they do.”

Alex looked from one to the other and wondered if there were other boys in need of training. He’d speak to Gareth and Robby.

“Sir, may I ask you a question?” Peter shifted from foot to foot, his nerves apparently getting the better of him.

“Aye.” Alex waved his hand.

“How do you win a fight if you’re evenly matched? Darby and I can go on for a long time and neither of us wins. We stop because we can’t raise our arms. I’ve watched the men train. They hit each other hard and often, but their arms never tire and the match is called before anyone wins.”

“That’s a good question. No soldier wants a long fight. You want to conserve your strength. Your objective is to disable your enemy so he cannot fight and you can move on to the next. If you’re evenly matched you look for advantages. It may be the terrain, you want to stay on the high ground and force your enemy to fight up. It may be the situation. You want the sun at your back and force your enemy to fight with the glare in his face. Or it may be something you know about the fighting field that your enemy doesn’t. Use the things around you to make the advantage yours.”

Alex watched the wheels turn in the boy’s head.

“Start again and let me see if you’re ready to begin training.” He knew the value in making the boys work for a place on the training field.

Both boys eagerly took their starting position in the middle of the empty hall. They lunged and parried. Alex admired the determination in their eyes, and for a brief moment remembered how he had felt when he trained with his father’s sword master.

“Peter, keep your elbow down. Darby, your right foot, bring it forward. Don’t give him your chest as a target.”

The boys had worked their way to the terrace doors. Peter stepped back to avoid a blow and pushed the doors open. They took their training to the terrace. Alex followed them.

Thick vapor poured out of their mouths as the cold air hit them. It didn’t slow them down. The boys kept up a quick pace. They were indeed very evenly matched.

Alex noticed that Peter was driving Darby to the back of the terrace. Did he intend to take the fight into the garden? Suddenly Darby’s sword was in the air and the boy’s arms windmilled. Peter stood with his sword at Darby’s chest and a satisfied look on his face. Darby hit the ground hard.

“Yield,” demanded Peter.

“Yield,” responded Darby.

Peter gave Darby his hand and helped him up.

“Good move, Peter. I forgot about the ice on the terrace.” Darby rubbed his backside. “I won’t forget again.”

Peter turned to Alex. “Thank you, sir. I’ve never beaten Darby before. He’s always outlasted me. How’d we do?”

“Peter, you knew about the ice on the terrace?”

“Yes, sir. I slide across it all the time. It’s there from late fall through early spring.”

“Good thinking.” He roughed the boy’s hair. “I’ll speak to Gareth and Robby. Now off with you both.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Alex turned and saw one of his soldiers approaching.

“M’lord.”

“Yes?”

“The captain reports coaches are approaching. He has sent an escort.” The man saluted and left.

Alex watched the boys march off with their swords over their shoulders in animated conversation. If only the situation with Lisbeth were as easy to resolve. He stepped into the garden and trudged around to the kitchen. Faith. He’d rather go into battle, or maybe just slide across the ice.

* * *

Lisbeth stood at the large kitchen table, mounds of onions and carrots scattered in front of her. One after another she chopped up the vegetables. The monotony suited her. She didn’t want to talk to anyone or think of anything. Her anger was spent but the questions remained.

How did this all happen? She had gone to the lodge to make certain Laura was safe. That’s all. Instead she had found Bryce there, hurt and in need of help. There were too many unanswered questions. How did he unsaddle his horse and draw up the water? How was he able to lay the fire? Where did all the blood come from? Puncture woods didn’t bleed that much. And how had Bryce recovered so quickly? It was only a few hours before that he had needed help back to Ravencroft.

She stopped, the knife poised. She was so stunned by Alex’s declaration that she hadn’t focused on what Bryce said. Sanctuary? She hadn’t asked him for sanctuary. She chopped some more. Her mind reeled as she remembered. Shock yielded quickly to fury. No wonder Alex had jumped to conclusions. They had both been manipulated.

“Lisbeth.”

She glanced over her shoulder. Alex was at the garden door.

“Walk with me in the garden.” He stood with his hands on his hips.

She would not be timid and pliable. In their place was determination and courage. She wiped her hands, took her cloak off the peg, and walked out the garden door. Alex led the way.

They wended their way to the middle of the garden. She took a seat on the bench in front of the garden house. She stared straight ahead with her hands tightly clasped in her lap and watched the muscles work in his jaw as they flexed with irritation. By the set of his shoulders she knew his back was tense. She had no thought to alleviate his discomfort. Alex paced in front of her. She thought he would wear out the small patch.

She stole a glimpse of him running his hands through his hair. She refocused her attention on her lap. How to tell him about Bryce?

He stopped in front of her. “Here,” he held out her leather pouch. “I believe this is yours.”

“Yes, thank you.” She took it from him and secured it to her waist. She said nothing else.

“Don’t you want to know where I found it?

“That won’t be necessary. I know.”

“Why did you leave the castle grounds? I gave orders before I left.”

She didn’t answer. She lifted her head and watched him.

“I want an answer.”

“Laura. I went to help Laura.” She answered so softly he appeared to struggle to hear her. How would he understand the drive that made her go to the lodge? Never again would she sit by, a spectator while the ones she loved died.

“You expect me to believe you went there alone knowing she might be in danger.”

“I didn’t think. I knew I had to go. If anything happened to her...”

“No, you didn’t think.” He nodded his head and once again paced in front of her.

“I am responsible for your safety—and the safety of everyone in this village, Lisbeth.” He spoke softly, but there was steel in his voice. “I will be obeyed. They look to you. You must set the example for the village.”

“Set the example.” She stood up so quickly he almost fell over. “Here I thought you were concerned about my welfare while all along it’s been about your own arrogant pride. Oh, I forgot, I’m your wife, your property, given to you by the king.”

She fisted her hands at her sides, feeling the heat of her anger rise into her cheeks. Livid, and not wanting to let it out, she turned, ready to storm away.

“Where are you going? I’ve more questions.”

“Well, I’ve no more answers. Not for you.”

He grabbed her and swung her around. Her arm, free of her cloak, displayed the raw scrape marks on her arm. “Who did this to you?”

His white-hot demand caught her off guard. “Bryce’s...”

“I’ll kill him for touching you.”

She pulled her arm away from him. “Is that what you do to people who take your property? Kill them?”

“You haven’t told me why you were at Ravencroft.”

“You haven’t asked.”

“Would you prefer Ravencroft to Glen Kirk?”

The very idea he would think she wanted to go to Ravencroft incensed her. “Don’t ask unless you’re willing to hear the answer. Anywhere may be better than Glen Kirk.” All she wanted to do was hurt him. She chose the only place he was unprotected—his pride. “Perhaps you can arrange for a proxy annulment.” Even she heard the venom in her voice.

“Annulment. Do you have any idea what you ask? You’d be ruined.”

“It would be worth it not to be your property.”

“Very well, we will discuss this after the king’s visit. But until then I expect you to perform all the duties of my wife. Your belongings will be moved into my room.” Before she could say a word he gave her a slight bow. “M’lady.” He was gone.

She stood in the garden and glowered at his retreating back. Had she gone too far? The farther away he marched the emptier she felt. There was no gathering mist or still water to warn her. Her hope for happiness was dashed. She stood in lonely silence, grief stricken and empty. She could still feel his touch when he explored and thrilled her body. How she wished the tenderness and caring he showed her in her dreams were a picture of the true man. She walked back to the kitchen. Silent sobs gathered in her throat while hot tears streamed down her face.

A soft rain fell as she spent her last tear. She stepped inside just as the gentle rain turned into a torrent. She passed through the now bustling kitchen. Solitude and quiet was what she needed. The back steps were a jumble of servants. She headed to the main staircase. She didn’t want to see or speak to anyone. She passed the library and estate room and quickened her step. She rushed through the front hall and up the stairs.

At the top step her foot caught the bottom of her gown. Her stomach plummeted as her arms windmilled. She tipped back to gain her balance and lost her footing. She felt herself falling when strong arms grabbed her and pulled her out of harm’s way. Alex held her tight to his chest.
Safe
. His rapid heartbeat, so familiar, comforted her. She lifted her head and made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Her heart fluttered in response. He took her mouth with a savage intensity. She didn’t struggle but was shocked by her own eager response to his lips. He pulled away and cupped her head to his chest. Relief flooded through her. Velvet. His lips were definitely velvet.

“Come, Philip, get out of the rain,” rang out a woman’s voice in the hall below.

Alex released her. “Faith,” he looked down at her. “Lisbeth, I wanted more time.” He stepped in front of her and moved to the top of the stairs.

“Alex,” she said in as reasonable tone as she could manage. She touched his arm lightly.

“We’ll talk later without accusations and threats. We need the truth between us.” He put his hand over hers and rubbed it lightly.

“Ah, there you are.”

Lisbeth and Alex stared down at an older couple. Ann stood ready to take their outer garments. From their dress Lisbeth knew they were part of King Edward’s court. The woman helped the man out of his wet cloak. They looked vaguely familiar.

Alex led them down the stairs into the foyer.

“Mother.” He let go of Lisbeth’s hand. The woman threw her arms open to receive him.

“Alex, we didn’t quite make it before the rain.” She smiled at Lisbeth. “Hello, my dear. Careful, I don’t want to get you wet.” Lady Stelton stepped away and shook out her gown.

“Sir.” He shook his father’s hand. Lord Stelton put his arm around his son and brought him to his chest.

Lisbeth noticed the broad smile on Lord Stelton’s face was an older version of Alex’s. A sign he would grow more handsome and distinguished with age.

“Son, it is good to see you.”

How strange to see him as a son, not a warrior and lord of Glen Kirk. She didn’t have to rub her stones to encourage harmony. The air was alive with good will. Reminiscent of when her parents were alive. She realized there were no tears, just a little melancholy—and remembrance of some very good times. She eased at the notion.

“I thought everyone was going to be here. Where are they?”

Lisbeth looked past the small group for the others.

“Your brothers and their wives ride with the king. They should be here tomorrow. Your sisters are in London. Perhaps next time they can join us.”

Alex took Lisbeth’s hand in his. His light strong touch sent waves of emotion through her. She felt his hand tighten. The surprise on his face matched hers.

He pulled her close. Already the heady sensation that sent her thoughts spiraling made her feel warm.

“Lisbeth, you remember my father and mother, Lord and Lady Stelton.” He moved her in front of him. His hand on her shoulder silently declared that she was his. “This is Lisbeth... my wife.”

She knew his touch would forever excite her. Perhaps there was hope yet.

“We were married by proxy by His Highness, King Edward.” He spoke in a tone filled with respect.

Lady Stelton looked at her warmly. Before Lisbeth could curtsy, Lord Stelton took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“Yes, Alex, we know.” Lady Stelton turned to her daughter-in-law. “Lisbeth, it’s good to see you again. Welcome to the family. Thank you for opening your home to us.”

“You’re most welcome m’lady but...”

“Why don’t we go into the hall? I’m certain you’d like to sit on something solid that isn’t moving,” said Alex.

“Yes, Alex. Not moving would be good,” said Lady Stelton and took her son’s offered arm.