The Herald's Heart (7 page)

“Where?” Larkin raised herself onto her elbows and peered at Talon. The movement forced her gaping laces farther apart.

His gaze fixed on her breasts; he licked his lips and swallowed.

She slapped a hand over her exposed flesh.

He sighed and raised his gaze to her face, disappointed and at the same time relieved.

“Here.” He lifted his cupped hands. “Do you wish to see it?”

Larkin’s lips still trembled, but she nodded.

He brought his hands closer and slowly lifted his upper hand away.

She stared at the small brown ball. “Is that it?”

“Aye.”

“It seemed much larger when it leapt at me.”

“It probably was. Drawing in its legs seems to be some sort of defense.”

She shuddered. “I wish you would put it out of the room.”

“You don’t wish me to kill it?” He strode to the door.

She cocked her head. “Why would I want that?”

He set the spider on the floor outside the solar. “Because it frightened you, I suppose.”

She gave a throaty chuckle. “If I killed everything that frightened me, I would have murdered you on first sight.”

“Truly?” He walked to the bedside. “You did not seem fearful when I saw you in the fog.”

She was calmer now. He knew one of them should leave, but he did not want to. For the first time, he felt as if the barriers between them might fall.

“I learned early that to show fear was a sure way to attract danger.”

“’Tis a good lesson to learn.” He held out his hand to her. To help her stand, he told himself, not because he wanted to touch her even in the smallest way. “But you showed your fear of the spider.”

“I was surprised, and a spider is a far different thing from a man.” She took the offered hand and stood.

He should have stepped back but remained where he was, staring down at her lips.

She inhaled and put her hands on his chest, pushing gently. “Please?”

Was that “please” consent or protest? The touch of her hands was too pleasurable to stop him. He anchored her hands in place with one large palm and bent his lips to hers.

The kiss was sweet, more plea than demand. He scraped his teeth along her lower lip. She opened, and he dipped his tongue within.

A small moan moved from her to him. His hands went to her shoulders, but she pushed away before he could draw her nearer.

She moved several steps from him, her face heated, her breathing rapid.

“Do you fear me now?”

She frowned and twisted her hands. “If I did, I’d neither tell nor show you.”

“However, I did surprise you?”

She turned away, and he could not see her expression. “Nay, it is not surprising that a man would take advantage of a woman who has neither strength nor power to deny him.” Her voice was hard.

Did she regret yielding to his kiss, even for that brief moment? What a shame she could not be honest even in this, for her desire had been palpable.

“Mayhap you are right.” His voice dripped sarcasm as he walked past her to the door. “However, you have denied me, have you not?”

He disappeared down the stairs before he could say something he might regret.

During the next few days, she did not see Talon for more than a few moments during meals in the great hall when large numbers of people surrounded them. She told herself she was happier not seeing him and that she spent far too many hours thinking about him as she scrubbed, dusted, and polished.

You have denied me, have you not?
Indeed, she had, after she realized she was yielding. He had not forced her, either. Though he had not asked permission to kiss her. What kind of man was he to take but not pursue an advantage? What kind of woman was she to allow this man to distract her? Much more of this and she would be praying for the earl to return just to avoid the storm of confusion Talon inspired. If the earl came back, would he accept her as his countess? Did she want him to? Would she gain justice for her family, regain the home she’d lost? Or would she lose her life and any chance of love, like every other Countess of Hawksedge?

Disgusted with her circling thoughts and her inability to resolve the issues, Larkin poured a bucket of hot water into the tub before the solar’s blazing fire. Then to keep the heat in, she adjusted a tall wooden screen around three sides of the tub.

She was done laboring for the day. And she was done with carrying the stink of cleaning the keep on her person. She would teach Sir High and Mighty Talon Quereste that he could not show her kindness one moment, kiss her senseless the next, and then ignore her completely, even though his notice was the last thing she should want. She was not a plaything for nobles or yeoman. Thanks to a few black eyes and bloody lips given by her sharp elbows and ready fists, the village men knew to leave her be. Sir Talon would know it too. She simply hadn’t figured out how to teach him that very necessary lesson yet. Just as she hadn’t yet taught her mind to erase the memory of his touch, his kiss. But she would. She’d figure it all out while she bathed.

She placed a stool next to the tub and set a clean tunic, drying cloth, and her lavender-and-pansy-infused soap on the seat. She tested the water. Perfect. Then she stripped off her work-soiled clothing and the splint she felt she no longer needed.

’Twas a risk, deciding to bathe in the solar. But all of the keep’s other rooms were either too public, too cold, or too dirty to suit her. Besides, not moments ago, she’d heard Talon in the bailey shouting at the guards and knights who practiced their battle skills. She had plenty of time to scrub herself clean before he returned.

She stepped into the tub with a small splash. Ahh. The heated water lapped at her sore muscles and eased the ache in the small of her back. She picked up the soap and submerged her hands.

“Aieeh!”

The water pricked at the many tiny cuts dirty rushes had made on her palms. Leaving the soap afloat, she lifted her hands. She turned her palms upward, gasping. How had she acquired so many cuts and blisters?

While she’d lived at the abbey, Mother Clement had tolerantly given her work befitting a lady.” Since she’d shown a talent for such tasks, Larkin had never been forced to acquire the calluses and chaffing common women suffered on their hands. She’d even had a precious pair of gloves to protect her hands when she drove the cart. “’Tis what comes of working like a peasant,” she remarked to herself. Would a peasant’s life be her fate?

Since she had little choice, she bit her lip against the stinging in her hands, but she could feel tears pooling in her eyes. Good thing she’d asked Alice to bring salve and bandages when she could spare a moment.

Washing her hair with her injured hands would be the worst part, so she set about doing that to get it done the sooner.

With her clean tresses hanging over the edge of the tub, Larkin dozed, soaking out the rest of her aches. She heard the door open. Soon she’d be warm and dry. Perhaps she could persuade Alice to provide some supper. Then she would find a place to sleep where Sir Kiss Me Quick Talon couldn’t disturb her rest.

Metal clanked on the floor just as the door opened again.

“Ah, Alice. My thanks for your thoughtfulness.” Talon’s dark rumble startled Larkin upright and water splashed out of the tub.

Alice coughed.

Larkin crossed her arms over her breasts. What is he doing here? How do I escape? She had to figure that out quickly, while Alice occupied Talon.

“A bath is just what I need most. I see you’ve brought something to tend my bruises.”

“Uh ...” Alice responded.

Uh, indeed. What do I do now? Larkin stood slowly, trying not to make any noise, and reached for the drying cloth.

“Why don’t you go and take your supper? I should be finished bathing by the time you are done.”

“I have already supped, sir. If ye’ve hurts from yer day’s labors, ’tis best I tend them.”

“Again, my thanks, but I prefer to bathe first.”

“As ye wish, sir. But perhaps ye’d allow me to warm the water. Not knowing when ye’d return, I had the tub set out some time ago. The water’s gone cold by now.”

Larkin heard soft steps scraping against the floor, but whose? Talon could be remarkably light-footed. She eased from the tub and wrapped the cloth around her.

“’Tis no need, Alice. I like a cool bath. In fact, with the fire going, that screen will keep in too much heat. All I need is clean water.”

“But I insist, Sir Talon. ’Tis not fitting ...”

Larkin snatched up her robe. Could she put it on wet as she was? She could just imagine trying to hold on to the drying cloth while forcing her arms into the robe one at a time. The material would soak through the instant it touched her sopping skin, then cling to every part of her.

“’Tis fitting if I say so. Now go and fetch someone to help me remove my boots.”

“Nay, sir, please,” Alice pleaded. “Let me help you. ’Twould take time for me to find someone, and yer bath would indeed be chilled then.”

“’Tis not a task for you, Alice.”

“I want to, Sir Talon. I’m so very grateful that ye proved the keep is not haunted. Ye’ve saved us all from the earl’s anger. Please.”

“Since it means so much to you.”

Larkin moved to the end of the screen nearest the open door and peered around the edge. Thank the Lord for Alice’s quick wits.

Seated on the bed, Talon had lifted one muscled leg. Alice bent over his foot, both hands wrapped around his muddy boot.

Larkin bit her lip. Because of her own desire for a bath, Alice served Talon as a squire. Still, she could hardly charge to Alice’s relief draped in sodden cloth.

The second boot fell to the floor.

“Thank you once more, Alice. Now, you’d better go before I offend your modesty.” Talon stood, turned his back to the cook, and began to lower his braes.

“’Tis nothing I’ve not seen afore, sir.” She cackled and moved toward the screen. “But ye’d better let me check the water. I fear I may have left the soap in the tub, and yer bath may be murky by now. Ye’ll want clean water brought.” Her gaze caught Larkin’s, and she made shooing motions with her hands.

Larkin ducked farther behind the screen.

“A bit of soap in the water won’t bother me, Alice. Now leave, before I embarrass us both.”

Alice turned as she reached the screen. “Aye, Sir Talon.”

Larkin scurried to the opposite end of the wooden barrier.

“I’ll be going now, sir.” The cook stepped toward the door. Then put a hand to her back. “Ooh.”

“Alice, what is the matter?” Concern tinged Talon’s deep tone.

“’Tis nothing, Sir Talon. Just me back.”

“Nonsense, you are in pain.”

Larkin heard a skidding footfall, and Alice gasped again. Quick steps told her that Talon had moved to Alice’s side. Was she truly hurt? Larkin peeked beyond the screen.

His bare shoulders and back blocked her view of Alice. A skimpy breechclout knotted about his hips did little to block her view of his lower torso and nothing to shield work-hardened thighs and strong calves from her sight.

“Here, let me help you.” He sounded genuinely concerned.

He placed an arm around the cook’s waist, and together they shuffled toward the door Alice had left open.

“Cleve!” Talon bellowed.

Taking a deep breath, Larkin scampered to the huge bed and hid in the folds of the velvet drapes.

“Ah, Cleve, escort Mistress Alice downstairs. She’s hurt her back. Make certain she’s comfortable, and ask someone in the kitchen to prepare a posset. Alice, you are to drink every drop.”

Larkin watched through a thin gap between the velvet and the bedpost, as Cleve took Alice from Talon.

“Nay, Sir Talon. Truly, ’twas only a twinge. ’Tis gone now. I’ll tend yer bath for ye.”

“You’ll do no such thing. If you injure yourself further, who will keep the pot boys out of trouble? I insist that you rest.”

“But ...”

“Now.” The steel beneath the silky empathy was unmistakable.

“I will see that Alice takes proper care of herself, sir.”

“Thank you, Cleve.”

“Ye’re welcome.”

“Cleve, when you’ve settled Mistress Alice, send some men to remove this screen. I’ll not need it.”

“Aye, Sir Talon.”

With that, Cleve ushered Larkin’s sole hope of rescue from the room. She looked on in tortured wonder as Talon folded the screen closed, lifted it aside, and placed it by the door. He turned back to the tub, directly in Larkin’s line of vision, and removed his loincloth.

Her throat went dry. Her entire body heated then chilled. Goose bumps raced over her skin, leaving a fire in her lower belly and unaccustomed tightness in her breasts.

He dipped a hand into the tub she’d so recently vacated, testing the water.

She began to tremble and closed her eyes, praying that he would not see the curtain shake. Two men came for the screen and left. She heard humming and a splash. When she opened her eyes, Talon sat, half hidden by the tub. It was too small for his large frame, and his knees showed wetly above the rim.

Fascinated, she watched as he lifted one long arm and lathered it with her precious, scented soap. Had she remained undiscovered so long just to be betrayed by a cake of soap? The humming became a song. His slightly off-key baritone stroked over her skin, and sensation tingled through her body and curled her toes. She bit her lip on a groan of frustration. Then the meaning of the words he sang became clear.

Is that really what men like? Larkin’s gaze tried to penetrate the wood and water hiding that particular part of his body. How, she wondered, did a woman bathe a man’s staff with her mouth?

Larkin looked down at her own body, saw her pebbled nipples, and felt the extra dampness between her own thighs. Her face heated. She couldn’t be like the woman in his song, could she? The song continued, accompanied by vigorous splashing as he sang of suckings and fuckings and dyings and cryings. That song is positively indecent. Despite the chill from standing wet and naked for so long, Larkin broke into a sweat.