Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] Page 11

  Reece halted and she had to, too. “There was no need for worry. Trevelyan is a gentleman.”

  So, he had guessed why she had decided to walk toward the river. Perhaps that should not have been unexpected, nor should it be cause for annoyance, but there was something in the tone of his voice she did not like. Pulling her arm from his, she faced him and raised her chin. “So is Piers.”

  “I’m glad,” he murmured as his gaze traveled lower, over her body.

  In spite of her indignation only a moment ago, heat seemed to follow in the wake of that gaze.

  Suddenly she felt as she had on her wedding night, breathless with anticipation and yet full of trepidation.

  She forced herself to concentrate on the problem of the present. “Perhaps you should speak to your brother. I don’t want him trying to seduce my maid. I won’t have Lisette treated as a woman for him to practice on, as so many young nobles consider the young serving women of their household.”

  She immediately regretted speaking so firmly. That tone would enrage Damon. Then she realized Reece did not look angry. He looked…impressed.

  “Your concern for your maidservant does you credit, my lady,” he said quietly, in the sort of soft and intimate tone she could imagine he would use with a woman he had just delightfully bedded. “But as I said, Trevelyan is a gentleman. He would no sooner treat her poorly than he would a lady.”

  Reece’s lips curved upward in a little smile. “Besides, once we reach Castle Gervais and they begin training, they will both be too tired to think about a girl.”

  The mood between them encouraged her to ask another question that had been troubling her. “I have been wondering how you intend to explain our sleeping arrangements when we stop for the night, for I assume you do not intend to join me in my bed.”

  “Of course not. There must be no doubt that we never…that we have not…that the marriage has not been consummated,” he replied. “We may need witnesses, too.”

  She recalled what glib Blaidd Morgan had said about the Fitzroys being tongue-tied around women. At the time she had believed that another of his silly, teasing remarks, but now she began to wonder if that was true. That would explain Reece’s general silence and short answers.

  And what, then, did it mean when he spoke more freely? That he felt comfortable with her, or that he didn’t care what she thought of him?

  “Lisette assumed that you left me on our wedding night because of your wounds,” she said, giving him an excuse. “Surely no one will question that.”

  Try as she might to focus only on the immediate problem, she could not, unfortunately, separate the notion of making love with him from what else Lisette had said. The beast uncaged.

  Even now, simply standing by the stream and with his side no doubt aching, there was an aura of caged vitality in him. And with that thought, as always, came the wonder of what would happen if that constraint were ever to drop away.

  “Then let us hope everyone makes that assumption, too, since I have no desire to explain myself to an innkeeper or anyone else, and I am very loath to lie.”

  She was surprised he would have any compunction about lying to an innkeeper or any underling. Damon and Benedict certainly wouldn’t. They would lie to the king if it suited their purposes—as they already had.

  She glanced at Reece’s side. “Is your wound giving you much pain?”

  “No.”

  “It is not bleeding again, is it?”

  “No.”

  “I regret that I know nothing of the healing arts, so I cannot help you.”

  “I do not want your help.”

  His brusque words, unexpected after the way they had talked, hit her like a painful thunderbolt. She abruptly turned to go back to the cortege.

  He put his hand on her arm to stop her.

  She faced him, doing her best to blink back her tears. She did not want him to know how he had hurt her. She would not give him the sort of power over her Damon possessed.

  “I am a gentleman, too, Anne,” Reece said, his voice low and husky, as if he were anything but a gentle man. “But God save me, no woman has ever tempted me as you do.”

  Chapter Nine

  As Anne looked up at him with her brilliant, questioning green eyes, his resolution wavered like a sapling in a strong wind. Oh, God, he wanted to kiss her!

  And then he could no longer resist the impulses surging and crashing within in. He forgot that Trevelyan, Piers and the lively little maid were nearby. He pulled Anne into his arms and captured her mouth with a fiery kiss.

  His wife, his beautiful, utterly desirable wife, the woman whose presence beside him had been a torture, made a little sound of acknowledgment, almost a whimper. It was the sort of sound a woman made when she was in the throes of passion.

  The sort of sound he desperately wanted to hear Anne make as she lay in his arms, despite the impossibility of their marriage.

  Her head tilted back as if she were thirsty and drinking deep, and her mouth moved upon his with wondrous sensuality. Her hands crept around his waist and up his back, holding him to her with a strength he had never imagined she possessed. His kiss softened and gentled as his lips slid over hers, then his tongue parted her lips and slipped into the moist warmth of her mouth.

  That was too much, or too soon, or else she recalled better than he the reason they should not be alone together, for she broke the kiss. Panting softly, she stared at him.

  Again he cursed himself for a weak-willed fool. It was as if all caution and reason fled like chaff in the breeze when he was with Anne.

  She didn’t speak, but what was there to say? Once more, the fault for this was his, and his alone. He glanced swiftly at the boys and Lisette.

  They had not seen them there, or the kiss. They didn’t know he and Anne were there at all, hidden by the shadows of the trees. Thank God.

  “I’m sorry, Anne,” he said brusquely. “That will not happen again. Now come. We should get back to the others.”

  Before she could answer or question him, he shouted for Trevelyan and strode back toward the clearing, leaving her to follow.

  He wouldn’t even take her hand again. If his plan was to have any hope of succeeding, he must stay away from Anne, and she from him. He must not touch her or kiss her or be alone with her, not ever again.

  Not unless he wanted his family tied to the detestable Delasaines forever, and his future a ruin at his feet.

  “So then, the duc said, ‘But sir, that is my wife!”’ Lisette finished with a merry giggle.

  She had been regaling Anne with tales of life at the French court ever since they had started on their journey again and Anne had decided to ride in the cart rather than on Esmerelda. She had claimed she was too fatigued and would prefer the softer seat of a cushion in the cart; in truth, she was so confused by her husband’s manner and searing kiss that she did not want to ride beside him.

  She had been caught totally off guard by his embrace…well, perhaps not totally. She had seen the change come to his eyes, and felt her own heartbeat quicken at the sight. She had waited with breathless anticipation, wondering what he was going to say.

  And then his mouth had covered hers, and all she knew was that kissing Reece was like nothing else—exciting, marvelous and wonderful.

  Shocked by his unleashed passion and the force of her own response, she had been overwhelmed, while all too aware that Piers was close by. She would not have him confront Reece, too, coming to her unnecessary defense.

  Or perhaps it was necessary. Although it no longer seemed likely, it could be that Reece would still blame her if his plan went awry.

  Judging by his words, though, this would be the last time he kissed her, so it would surely be wiser to forget it. Besides, she should be using this time to find out what Lisette thought about Piers and Trevelyan, so she would know better how to deal with her brother. Surely Lisette could not be insensible to their behavior and what it meant. “Lisette?”

  “Oui, my lad
y?” the girl asked brightly.

  “Lisette, you must have noticed that my brother and my brother-in-law—” It was the first time Anne had said those words, and they struck her as a little strange. “Both my brother and my brother-in-law like you.”

  The sparkle in Lisette’s eyes did not diminish. “Oh, la, of course, my lady. They are boys.”

  Anne hadn’t thought Lisette vain.

  “It is the nature of boys that age to notice girls, is it not?” Lisette continued matter-of-factly. “Short, tall, thin, plump, they do not care.”

  Anne was no expert on boys; she only knew Piers. “Really?”

  Lisette laughed again. “Indeed, it is, unless they are very ill. They are like puppy dogs, always chasing after something. So of course they will talk to me and try to get my attention, and they will growl and snap at each other as if I am but a bone to wrangle over.”

  She, too, knew what it was to feel like an object for men to quarrel over. She hated it, but oddly enough, Lisette seemed amused. “You don’t mind?”

  “What is there to mind? It is simply in their nature, like eating and sleeping. If it were not me, they would be quarreling over some other girl, or a horse, or a pair of boots. Have you ever seen two rams butting heads? That is what boys of that age are like.”

  Lisette spoke as if young men were a species to be indulged. Still, this rivalry could be a problem, so she had to be clear about Lisette’s feelings. “Do you like either of them?”

  That sobered Lisette at once. “Like, as in to take to my bed? Mon Dieu, my lady, non! I want a man, not a boy. I am sure they are both virgins so they have no experience, no knowledge. I would feel like a teacher, and I assure you, my lady, I do not want to be giving lessons when I am with a man. I do not want him fumbling about, unsure and uncertain, either. I want to be swept away by my lover’s passion, lost in his embrace, feeling only need and desire—”

  “I understand,” Anne interrupted, her voice a little strained. Lisette’s descriptions were rather too vivid.

  Especially because they seemed to describe exactly how Anne felt when Reece kissed her. “I thought you were not encouraging them, but I wanted to be sure.”

  “Well, my lady, you may be very sure,” Lisette retorted with a shake of her head as she crossed her arms.

  Anne put her hand lightly on Lisette’s arm. “I didn’t mean to upset or offend you, Lisette.”

  Although her countenance remained grave, Anne was glad to see the merriment return to Lisette’s bright eyes. “Forgive my temper, my lady. I suppose it is a sister’s duty to make certain a younger brother is not being seduced by a lovely young Parisian girl.”

  Anne laughed. “Yes, it is. One of many duties. As you say, boys are like puppies and they need a lot of tending.”

  “So do men,” Lisette noted with another giggle.

  Anne’s laugh turned into a sigh. “I don’t know very much about men.”

  Only Damon and Benedict, and they are proving to be no better examples to me of how an honorable man behaves than they were for Piers.

  This time, it was Lisette who patted Anne’s arm companionably. “As long as he desires you, you have plenty of time to learn. And the rewards are great,” she said with a wink, “as you will soon find out when your husband’s wound is healed.”

  Anne flushed. She would never know about the rewards being the wife of Reece might offer, but she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to!

  Reece wheeled his horse around to ride toward them.

  She swallowed hard, taken aback by his sudden action. Had he heard them talking? Had he heard the last thing Lisette said? Oh, heaven help her, she hoped not!

  “We will stop for the night soon,” he announced as he reached them.

  His gaze did not meet hers before he rode back to tell the others, and she did not doubt he meant what he had said: he would not touch her again.

  Three days later, Benedict slouched into a wayside inn. There had been no other inn between the last one and this. That damn Fitzroy and Anne must have stayed here last night.

  After taking off his sodden cloak and tossing it on the nearest bench, he sat and bellowed for ale. Rain had been falling in a steady, demoralizing drizzle all day, making the roads a muddy mess. Water dripped through the louvered opening in the roof onto the fire in the central hearth. A skinny dog lay beside it, sleeping. There were other leaks through the thatch, but none fell on him.

  “Curse you, Damon,” he muttered under his breath as his gaze wandered over the empty room.

  He shouted again, his ire growing. Where was the innkeeper or his woman? He was of half a mind to fetch his own ale and the devil take him if they made him pay, when a woman sauntered into the room. She was tall, in poorly mended garments, but her measuring gaze took in his clothes and his sword, as well as the purse dangling from his belt. Her subsequent slow smile immediately ameliorated the worst of Benedict’s rage. He knew at once that she would offer more than food and a bed for the night. “At last, my beauty,” he said. “What’s a man got to do for some ale?”

  She strolled closer. “Pay, same as if he wants anything else around here.”

  He reached out and hauled her onto his lap. She laughed, low and throaty and knowing.

  She wasn’t as young as he first thought, and her teeth were far from good, but she was a woman. He patted his purse. “How much for a meal and a night’s lodging?”

  “Thruppence.”

  “How much for more?”

  She laughed again. “Five pennies.”

  The sum made him frown and shove her from him. “Too much.”

  She didn’t look at all nonplussed. “If you say so. Others pay it.” She gave him a sly, far-from-innocent smile. “I’m worth it.”

  Benedict had been with enough whores to know the bargaining ploys. “Then let them pay it. I’ll settle for the food and bed.”

  “Well, seeing as how you’re such a well-made man, maybe for you, I’ll charge less.”

  He grinned, pleased. And Damon thought he was a spendthrift. “All right. How much less?”

  “A penny less.”

  He nodded. “Food first though, eh?”

  “Of course.”

  While she fetched it, Benedict shook his head to try to dry his hair a bit, then found a better seat, where he could lean against the wall.

  Damon could go to the devil if he criticized his spending money on a whore—or he could follow Anne and her husband himself. Let him ride along country roads in all kinds of weather, trailing after them like a whipped dog.

  And for what? Not money, not jewels, not pleasure.

  Information.

  If he thought that anything Anne could tell them was so bloody important, Damon should be here, not him.

  The woman returned with bread and a beef stew that smelled surprisingly good. For the moment, all his inner grumbling about his brother and his task were forgotten as he ate heartily and downed two mugs of ale.

  That appetite sated, he turned his attention to the wench. “What’s your name, my beauty?” he asked as she brought him a third mug.

  “Radella.”

  “Well, Radella, since there doesn’t seem to be anybody else here, why not join me for an ale?”

  What was another penny or two for her goodwill? She’d be all the more eager later, and he liked his women eager.

  And maybe she wouldn’t mind if he got a little rough. He liked it rough, too.

  Radella raised her brows, then nodded and fetched herself a mug and joined him at the table.

  “So, Radella,” Benedict said, his mouth full of the last of the bread and gravy from the stew, “not much business today?”

  She took a long gulp of ale and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “No, not today.”

  He would also show Damon he was clever. Maybe not as clever as Damon, but he could find out things.

  He gestured at the room. “Is it usually so empty?”

  Radella shook her head, and her expr
ession suggested she was a little peeved, as if he was insulting her. “No. It’s the rain. We had a large party here just yesterday. A knight and his lady and their guard.”

  Benedict raised an encouraging brow as he swallowed the bread.

  “Sir Reece Fitzroy it was,” she went on after another swig of ale.

  “A fine man, I hear,” Benedict said after a belch. “Generous, too.”

  Radella frowned and shrugged. “That’s as may be.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Do you know of him?”

  “I’ve heard of him, and his father.”

  “Ah.” She still looked suspicious. “Who are you?”

  “A knight traveling home,” he lied. Damon wasn’t the only one who could lie well, either. “My mother is ill.”

  He found talk of a sick parent worked well on tenderhearted women, but Radella didn’t seem particularly impressed. Apparently she was a hard woman.

  He liked that kind. They didn’t complain if he hurt them.

  “Good-looking fellow, they say,” he continued.

  Another disgruntled shrug was all the answer Radella made.

  Benedict could guess why Radella was so sullen. A canny whore like Radella would have noticed the distance between Reece and Anne, and probably thought to fill it, at least for a night. Reece must have refused her offer.

  “He was forced to marry his wife, I heard,” Benedict prompted.

  Radella’s eyes widened with triumph and she leaned forward eagerly. “I knew it was more than what he said. He said he was wounded, but I could tell that wasn’t all. Why, he hardly spoke two words to her the whole time they was here.”

  So, Anne wasn’t making any progress. Damon wouldn’t be pleased.

  But whatever the hell was going on between Anne and her husband could wait for the next day. This woman would want to be sure she was still attractive after a man rejected her. A woman in that frame of mind would go out of her way to please another.

  He wiped his mouth and smiled greedily. “And now, my beauty,” he began, rising. He started to tell her exactly what he expected her to do next.