“I'll see to it myself, thank you.”
Justina didn't spare more than a quick glance for the maid. She plucked a piece of cloth that was tucked through the woman's apron tie before she quickened her pace and turned the corner. She didn't know where she was going, only that she couldn't remain inside without going mad.
The corridors were made of thick stone and Justina hurried through them because it felt like they were pressing in on her. She finally made it outside and leaned over a half wall to pull in large breaths to feed her burning lungs. She pressed the fabric to her mouth and felt her eyes widen when it came away stained with crimson. Emotions assaulted herâfear, anger, pain, and too many others to comprehend. The air was bitterly cold and she looked across the yard to see that snow was gently falling. It wasn't melting now that the sun was sinking on the horizon. Patches of it covered the ground and clung to the leafless branches of the trees.
She cursed, muttering the foulest words her overwhelmed mind might recall.
“My thoughts exactly, Justina.”
She turned in a swirl of brocade skirts to discover Synclair behind her. His face was still darkened by temper and his eyes were narrow with dissatisfaction. But the cloth in her hands drew his attention.
“That bastard bloodied you.”
Justina felt her hand begin shaking and she turned back around to look away from the palace. She felt as if her every muscle was quivering, and was on the verge of either collapsing or running away.
“It shouldn't matter but I find that I cannot stomach these walls.” Her voice sounded far too needy but she didn't care; all that mattered was gaining freedom. She saw a reflection of her own desperation in his eyes and she didn't give a damn what anyone else thought. The sound of horses came around the side of the building and Synclair grinned. It wasn't a kind expression, but it was a relief from the rage that had transformed his features into a stranger.
A groom led his stallion, the animal more than eager to see his owner.
“Then let us escape, at least for the moment.” He took the reins from the groom and mounted, his body showing all the tension that she herself was battling. He looked down at her and offered his hand.
“Come with me, Justina. The night will give us the solace we seek.”
She didn't think. Her hand lifted and his fingers closed around her wrist. He lifted her off her feet and she landed in front of him, sitting side saddle with his arms going around her to control the animal.
She didn't need to think and she didn't believe that she was capable of it at the moment. All that filled her head was the sound of his voice when he used the word
solace
.
With his arms around her, Justina was sure that she had found exactly what he had promised her.
She needed to feel the warmth of his body, encasing her while they rode away from the palace and all its worries. The snow drifted down on them but she wasn't chilled, didn't shiver with the cold.
C
HAPTER
T
HREE
Y
et she did shiver.
Her body began to pulse with excitement in a way she had never felt. It surged through her blood, rushing to her head and making her want to giggle like a girl. The air rushed past her cheeks, turning them cold, but she smiled, enjoying the contrast between her face and the rest of her body that was turning hot. In her belly, that excitement brewed, until it was bubbling with need that rose up to draw her nipples hard once more. It happened faster this time, because she seemed to recall the sensation from before and her flesh craved more pleasure from Synclair's touch.
She'd known that she'd lose all control if she allowed herself to lean on him ...
He rode into the woods without a care for the fact that permission was needed to enter the king's forest, or that the first storm of winter was falling around them. There was no hesitation in him, only hard strength that drew still more quivers from her body. She should have worried that they might freeze but she didn't. The man sitting next to her was too warm and confident for her to truly worry.
“There.”
He leaned low, to make sure his words found her ear. She felt the warm brush of his breath against her ear and it sent a ripple of delight through her.
“The hunting house.”
She had heard rumors of such a place. The house itself was far more appealing to her than the palace with all its grandeur. This was a two-story house with wide stairs that led up to the front doors. Twin panels opened outward, beneath an arched doorframe set with sculpted leaves and grapes. It was refuted to be where Henry Tudor came to consort with his mistresses.
“This is the King's house.”
“Yet mine for the time that I am at court.”
“Yours?” Her voice trailed off as she took a look at Synclair's face. Satisfaction shimmered in his eyes now and it sent a shaft of need through her.
He stopped the stallion at the base of those stairs and a groom appeared to hold the reins. Synclair jumped from the saddle, his boots making only a scuff when they hit the ground.
“Indeed, Justina, mine because I have limited tolerance for the palace and the Earl of Hertford is kind enough to indulge me.”
“The palace is also full.”
Synclair reached up and clasped his hands around her waist. “The King is welcome to his guests. I prefer some privacy.”
He lifted her down, but didn't release her immediately. His hands remained around her waist and she was overly aware of the place where he touched her. There was something in his eyes that made her breathless once again, only this time it was because she felt like she was poised on the edge of a cliff, just waiting to topple over the edge.
What was odd was the fact that she was looking forward to falling, anticipation drawing her belly tight with excitement. An urge to behave recklessly began to take control of her and she witnessed something similar in Synclair's eyes. Surrounded by the darkness, there seemed no more perfect time to taste what was forbidden and unwise.
To taste what she desired above all other things ...
“The King used to come here for privacy, too. Privacy to meet with his mistresses.”
She wasn't sure what made her say such a thing. It was a barbed comment, one designed to displease or gain a reaction. But she honestly wanted to provoke him and that was a cowardly thing.
“Exactly what I crave, Justina, privacy to end this chase you have begun.”
“I shouldn't have said that.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “And why not?”
She took a slow step away from him, more of a nervous motion not truly designed to evade him. But there was part of her that did long for him to chase her and capture her. It was a dark desire but one that refused to be silenced now that they were so very alone. She felt as though she had been waiting forever for such a moment.
“Because I am happy to be here.” There was a deep satisfaction in saying the words. Justina felt it burning through the resentment and frustration that Biddeford so often forced her to shoulder.
But there was also something deeper, something that she had been ignoring too long. Synclair closed the space between them, his fingers landing gently on her lower back. Her breath caught and his eyes narrowed when he heard it.
The doors opened and a lantern was held high. The light didn't reach to the bottom of the stairs but shone like a beacon above them. Synclair pushed her gently up the stairs.
He leaned down and she felt his breath on the side of her neck once more. “If you are happy to be here, meet me on the field, madam, or have your own actions paint you timid.”
Justina grabbed a handful of her skirts and lifted them so that she might climb the stairs.
Meet him on the field indeed. The man was every inch the knight and he enjoyed the battles that had earned him that rank.
The servant holding the lantern never looked directly at her. Justina passed the lantern and entered the house to discover that candles had been lit on a table in the front room and at the top of the inside staircase to illuminate the open doors of a bedchamber on the second floor. She froze in her steps, her attention fixed on that second floor and the fact that she knew she did not possess the will to deny her passion for Synclair.
“I will make you no promises.” Justina's voice was low but steady.
She turned but Synclair was directly behind her. His hands cupped her waist once again, holding her in place with steely strength.
“Well, Justina, I will make you one promise, and that is that you will never again risk yourself by running away from me.”
His words were edged with harsh reprimand and a moment later he swept her off her feet without even a flinch. He cradled her against his chest, taking the stairs with quick motions of his powerful legs and carrying her into the upstairs bedchamber.
“Enough, Synclair, this is insanity.”
He put her down but only so that he might turn and close the doors. He shut them with a hard motion that betrayed just how much anger still ruled him. Yet he had controlled all that emotion and never even pinched her. She watched him, astonished at how well he hid his true feelings, admired his control because she was forced to do the same so often. A curious sense of kinship surfaced inside her.
“What is insanity is you riding across the borderland in a pair of boy's britches without even a dagger to protect you.”
There was thick reprimand in his tone and she should have backed away from it but her temper rose to the challenge, refusing to be told where her place was when her son's safety was at risk.
“That is not your concern. You didn't have the right to hold me at Amber Hill. Besides, Jemma gifted the mare to me, and I may do what I please with my gifts.”
Synclair unbuckled his belt and dropped it on a nearby table. “I pledged my help to you, Justina, there was no reason to place yourself at such risk. My service to Lord Ryppon is finished, and I will keep my word now that I have my leave.”
“I never asked for your help.”
He growled, low and deep, one finger pointing at her. “You should have.”
He closed the distance between them, framing her face with his hands, but in spite of the raging passion flickering in his eyes, his touch was only firm. She shivered, her body begging her to yield because it wanted to feel that passion. A soft sound came from her lips but it was more needy than anything else and his eyes narrowed in response. His hands began to smooth over her cheeks, soft little motions that sent sweet enjoyment through her.
“You made me stalk you, Lady, and what I still do not understand is why, but I do not care. My service is finished, and I swear to you that capturing you is my only goal now.”
“You cannot change my guardian's nature.”
“I will force him to release you or kill him for the way he abuses his position.”
His mouth covered hers, blocking out any further protests. She backed away from his kiss, seeking some distance to maintain her grasp on reality, but Synclair followed her, wrapping one arm around her to bind her body against his own. His lips never relented, demanding that she accept his kiss and open her mouth to allow it to deepen.
She shuddered and her jaw relaxed because she couldn't ignore the sensation flowing from that kiss. It flooded her, drowning every protest inside her. Her hands stopped trying to push him away and began to seek out the skin she could scent beneath his clothing. Desperation made her impatient to discover what she craved, her fingers pushing the buttons of his doublet through their holds to open the front of the garment.
He held her against him, but that didn't allow for her hands to continue working his doublet open. She leaned back and his mouth trailed across her jaw to her neck where he pressed hot kisses to the skin. Sensation rippled down her body in response to each press of his mouth. Deep tremors that traveled impossibly quick to her belly where need was burning white-hot. All of the times that she had avoided him rose up to torment her and push her hands faster. All of the denying that she had forced herself to accept suddenly turned on her, becoming fuel for the raging need.
“We should slow down ...” His voice was husky and hard, telling her that he was grasping at the last of his control to say what he thought she needed to hear.
“Don't let me think.” She pushed at his open doublet, pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms. “I don't want to think. I want to feel!”
“So do I.”
His voice was almost raw and his blue eyes shimmered with agreement, but there was also argument there. She watched it battling against his need and once again she felt that sense of kinship with him. They were so alike that she yearned to toss everything aside in favor of seeking out some solace in his embrace. She didn't seem to possess even a shred of discipline to resist now that his hands were upon her.
“We accomplish little with conversation.”
His tone should have warned her away but instead it sent a shiver down her back. He shrugged his open doublet off and let it fall on the floor without a care. His eyes were lit with anticipation, but what captivated her was his lack of restraint. Always the knight had been in control. She stared at him, trying to absorb who he was behind that shield of chivalry.
He cupped her face once more, capturing her mouth with his. The kiss was full of everything she had witnessed flickering in his eyes. The demand was firm, his mouth pushing hers open so that his tongue might thrust deeply. A soft moan rose from her chest as the heat inside her body became too much. Her dress was far too heavy and tight. She twisted, trying to escape what felt like endless layers of fabric.
Synclair never lifted his mouth away from hers but his hands slid down to her waist, gripping her and lifting her once more. She gripped his shoulders, kissing him back with every bit of desperation that was bubbling inside her. She felt like a thief, taking what she needed because she simply could not resist what she craved any longer.
Justina pushed her hands into the open collar of his shirt, pushing it away from his skin so that her hands might slide across his warm flesh. Passion flooded her and she willingly let it drag her away, the current pleasing her in a wicked way. Every time that she had watched him and denied herself his company surfaced with the demand that she touch him and be touched in return. There was no building, only the white-hot blaze of need that had been boiling inside her for too long. She thrust her own tongue into his mouth, eager for deep contact between them. Synclair growled and turned with her still in his grasp. A moment later, he pressed her back against the wall, lifting her higher so that his cock was even with her sex. She lifted her thighs, releasing his shoulders to grab her skirts and yank them out of the way.
“I cannot wait, Justina.”
His voice was strained almost to the point of being incomprehensible. He pressed his upper body against her, pinning her to the wall while he ripped the opening of his pants apart.
“I don't want you to.”
His eyes connected with hers for one slim moment, but it was long enough for her to view the wildness burning there. It was a part of him that he never allowed free, and that satisfied her in a way she had never thought possible.
She twisted her thighs around his hips, reaching for his shoulders to hold herself up.
“Do it, Synclair! Do it now.”
He didn't need any further urging. She felt the hard touch of his cock against her slit, the thick staff seeking the opening to her body, sliding easily through the fluid that coated her folds. Her hips tilted toward him and she felt his length touch the mouth of her sheath, sinking in several inches.
She gasped. Her passage was tight and resisting, promising pain when he plunged into her completely. But Synclair held himself steady, sparing her that pain. A muscle on the side of his jaw quivered and she could see his teeth clenching while he stopped, watching her face. Through the blaze of need, she could see him judging her response.