Suzanne Robinson (23 page)

Oriel stalked into her bedchamber, her mind in a tempest. Beshrew the man, he was as autocratic and inflexible as her aunts. If only he hadn’t addressed her as if she were his serf. He could have asked her not to travel at night by herself because he feared for her safety without playing the slave master.

She stopped in the middle of her chamber and found the new girl from the village, Meg, in attendance. “Nell still plays the mole?”

Meg bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, mistress.”

Sighing, Oriel turned around so that Meg could remove the pins that held some of her wayward hair out of her face.

“She hasn’t hidden this long since she was caught in
the stables with Lord Montague’s heir. Ah well. Tomorrow I’ll go to the village and search her out.”

She relapsed into silent fuming. Why did men assume that women possessed no logic simply because they were constructed differently? Fie, she was quickly discovering that even an enticingly handsome man could be intolerable if he played the feudal master. She’d spent half her life prey to the hissing and bared fangs of two aunts. Now that she had a little freedom, she wasn’t going to subject herself to the rule of a domineering overlord.

But if she were with child, then there would be no choice. She helped Meg pull a smock over her head and scrambled under the bed covers. Blade had too much power over her, for he’d made her forget her honor. She must resolve to govern her passions. Yet how could she when, even while he was at his commanding worst, the sight of him evoked an urge to slip her hands beneath his clothing and knead the muscles of his chest? It was a perplexity.

She wished Uncle Thomas were here, so she could confide in him and ask his advice. Instead, he was gone, leaving only a trail of hints and puzzles behind. Oak leaves. Uncle had been quite clever in hiding his secrets, for of all the family, only she had had the wits to follow the trail he’d left. Leslie could have done it, as well, had he the interest.

Uncle Thomas must have been concerned about the threat to Her Majesty from the great northern families. The Earl of Westmoreland and the Duke of Norfolk were Catholic. Most of the north was Catholic, yet loyal to Queen Elizabeth. No doubt Uncle Thomas had anticipated some attempt to depose Her Majesty on the grounds of illegitimacy, and had tried to do his part to prevent it.

She remembered Uncle Thomas telling her he admired Elizabeth. That was why he’d left his journal record. Elderly as he was, he’d taken the trouble to do his
duty to the queen. Oriel called up the image of the shaky script in which the journal’s last pages had been written. The writing had been legible, however, even at the end, where Uncle had placed the drawing of his oak leaf device. Under it had been one of Uncle’s favorite sayings,
fronti nulla fides
—no reliance can be placed on appearance.

Oriel snuggled under the covers while Meg drew the hangings about the bed. Uncle Thomas had been the only person she could talk to until Blade. Blade, whose mind was as quick as his body was beautiful, and whose manner was as gentle as his nature was domineering. She drifted off to sleep with the resolution to confront her despot of a betrothed upon the morrow.

She had been dreaming of Blade’s hands and long legs when oak leaves invaded her fancy. They began to fall upon her as she opened her body to Blade, and soon they were covered with them. Blade ignored them and continued to kiss her as he lay upon her, but one of the leaves landed on her nose, and she sneezed.

Oriel’s eyes flew open. She sat up in bed and rubbed her nose. She was still enclosed in the draped four-poster, and she could hear Meg snoring on the thick pallet at the foot of the bed. Something had awakened her. She listened, but no other sound came to her ears except Meg’s snorts. She remained sitting and thinking of her dream of lovemaking and oak leaves.

Oak leaves! The device at the end of the journal. God’s holy apostles, Uncle Thomas had been clever again. She fished for her heavy dressing gown, wrapped herself in it, and found her slippers. Pushing aside the hangings, she slipped from the bed. Meg was still snoring when she left her chamber and went down to the second floor.

She flitted along the dark gallery, then stopped in a puddle of moonlight shining in from the tall windows that overlooked the courtyard. She listened, but there was only the sound of the night wind blowing against
the windowpanes. She tiptoed over to the library door and went through it. Once inside, she went through the library, the passage, and the withdrawing chamber to the door to Blade’s chamber. As she pushed it open, it creaked a bit, but not loudly.

The chamber was as dark as the library. The window was closed, as were the hangings on the bed. Clutching her gown against the cold, she went to the bed, grasped the edge of a hanging, and shoved it aside. Something grabbed her wrist and pulled. She cried out as she sailed off her feet and landed on the bed. A great weight landed on top of her, and something pricked the skin above her heart.

“Oriel?”

“Ouch!” She peered into the black shadow that lay upon her and spoke in that familiar, magical voice.

Another shadow loomed behind Blade.
“Mon seigneur?”

“It’s nothing, René. You may go.”

The shadow vanished.

“You’re hurting me,” she said, and the pricking at her breast stopped.

“Sacré Dieu
, woman, I almost killed you.”

He was still lying on top of her, and she felt his hands running over her chest.

“That was a dagger I held to your heart, you witless little blight. What do you here?”

She was much warmer now that he was covering her. She nuzzled into his shoulder and found it bare. Curious, she searched his body with her hands. The rest of him was bare as well. She heard him suck in his breath as she rubbed his thighs.

“God’s blood, stop that!”

He tore himself away and scrambled under the covers. He yanked her close by the wrist and snarled at her.

“What do you here? When we parted you were snapping at me like a deranged trout. Ouch!”

“Did I hit your nose?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep a mannerly tongue in your head.”

“Oriel, you’re becoming a shrew.”

“I am not. You’re becoming a tyrant, and a rude one at that. Now listen to me. I’ve discovered something about Uncle Thomas’s journal.”

“Is that why you crept into my bed?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

He sounded disappointed, which made no sense to her, for her discovery was significant. “Uncle Thomas left another puzzle.”

She described the oak leaf device and the saying at the end of the journal. “You remember it?”

“Yes, but writers often end their texts with such flourishes.”

“Not Uncle Thomas, and besides, that oak leaf—I’ve seen it before.”

“It’s all over the library”

“But not placed in a rectangle, as in the journal.”

“And?”

“And I know where we will find such an oak leaf. In the old lodge.”

She heard a groan.

“Will this chasing about after puzzles never end?”

“I think this will be the last one,” she said. “There are no more libraries or lodges or rooms decorated with oak leaves.”

“I pray God you’re right.” Blade squeezed her hand. “Very well, my jewel, we will go to the old lodge upon the morrow. You go for your morning ride, and I shall slip away later to meet you. Marry, this last puzzle worries me. What could be of such import that your uncle wouldn’t include it in his hidden journal?”

“I don’t know, but Blade, whatever it is, mayhap he was killed on account of it instead of the journal.”

She was drawn into his arms and squeezed until she couldn’t breathe.
“Chère
, I fear for your safety. God’s
blood, I don’t think I could bear it if you were harmed.”

Snuggling close, she put her face against his neck. “So, this is why you play the tyrant. Fear has turned you into a master of slaves.”

“I was being reasonable”

“A reasonable man explains himself instead of dictating as if he were Caesar ” Shivering, yet anxious to argue the point, she began to climb beneath the covers.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cold. If we’re to continue our discussion, I need cover.” She snuggled down into the pillows and scooted close to him.

He shoved his body away from her and rose on his elbows. “Get out.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I told you. It isn’t meet that we should conceive a child until we’re married.”

“But Uncle Thomas told me that happens all the time, and besides, what about your other ladies? The ones in France and other places? You didn’t worry about children then.”

She heard him groan, but it was too dark to see his expression.

“God, I’m well repaid for my callousness.” “What mean you?”

She reached out and felt for his arm, but encountered his hip. She ran her hand down his thigh, and he grabbed it.

“Sacré Dieu
, those other women knew how to—most of them were married, and the rest knew how—God defend me, I’ve never had such a conversation with a maid before.”

Oriel was less and less interested in the ladies of Blade’s past. His warmth called to her, and the low vibrancy of his voice made her skin tingle. She slid closer to him, knowing he couldn’t retreat since his back was to the hangings already.

“Chère
, don’t. Go back to your room.”

“Why?”

“I told you.”

She put her free hand on his bare shoulder “Then why did you make love to me in the first place?”

“Because I went right mad, and have suffered from lunacy ever since. Christ, don’t touch me, I beg of you. I think I would prefer the rack to this torment Oriel, I am trying to preserve your honor, and getting no help from you.”

She had freed her hand from his grasp and was pressing her body close to his again. “Fie, I don’t want honor. I want you.”

She removed her gown, tossed it at him, and heard him wrestling with the cloth.

“What are you doing? Put this back on!”

“If you want me to go to my chamber, you must carry me there.”

“I won’t touch you.”

Oriel slithered next to him, so that their bodies touched. His hands skimmed over her bare back.

“That,” he said through clenched teeth, “was a mistake. Don’t do this. I want you to leave me alone.”

“Are you sure?”

Oriel was finding her mastery quite pleasing. To be the hunter had many advantages Catching Blade unaware, she fastened her mouth on his neck. He jumped, caught her face in his hands, and shook it once.

“Damn you, can’t you see I’m trying to protect you?”

Mayhap she had offended him with her forwardness. She bit her lip and whispered, “Have I disgusted you?”

“What?”

“I know I’m not as pretty as all those women who—all those women. Mayhap I’m one of those insatiable women the Church is always complaining about.”

“You are not.”

“But I must be, because when I touch you, even if I
don’t touch you, I tingle in the oddest places, and now that I’m on top of you, my chest is heaving as if I’d run up a mountain. There must be something wrong with me that I’m so unchaste.”

She heard a long, low groan, and without warning she was tossed off him and crushed under his weight. He put his lips to her ear.

“There is nothing wrong with you. You’re passionate, and therefore a delight.” He ran his lips across her cheek. “You drive me near to madness with your passion.” His mouth slid over her skin, down her neck to her breast. “Oriel, tell me to stop. Please, tell me to stop.”

Too awed by his words to speak any of her own, she answered him by moving so that her breast pressed against his lips His lips fastened upon it. Her reward was that special tingling she’d grown to crave. As he tugged at her breast, his hands smoothed their way up her thighs. They pressed her legs apart, then drifted upward to caress her.

Made bold by her pleasure, Oriel imitated the movements of his hands. She traced the line of his thighs. Though she could feel her face grow hot, she grasped him. Blade threw back his head, inhaled sharply, and moved against her hand. At the same time he stroked her, driving her to the brink of her own madness. She gave a short gasp, sank her nails into his back, and bit his neck.

“Damn you,” he said, and thrust into her.

She stopped breathing for a moment. He began to move with practiced ease, and she responded with her own hips. Together they climbed each pinnacle of sensation until she cried out, lifted her hips off the bed, and shuddered with her climax. He rammed into her, and they fell back to the bed as he took his own pleasure. Then they both sank into the covers, arms and legs tangled together and limp.

For a while she lay there panting, enjoying the feel
of his body on hers and him inside her. Her world had turned golden and blessed because of him. She kissed his hot cheek and he stirred, propping himself on his forearms to kiss her forehead. She touched his lips with the tip of her finger.

“ ‘For when I look on you a moment, then can I speak no more, but my tongue falls silent, and at once a delicate flame courses beneath my skin, and with my eyes I see nothing, and my ears hum, and a cold sweat bathes me, and a trembling seizes me all over.’ ”