The Warrior Knight and the Widow

by Ella Matthews

  Hope unfurled within her. Hope that she’d buried so deeply she’d denied it even to herself. And then she shuddered.

  ‘I don’t think I will have children. Lord Swein put me off...’ she waved her hand around ‘...you know.’

  Braedan stilled and she tilted her head to look up at him.

  ‘I am not like other men. I don’t take any woman who offers herself to me. But I do have...’ his gaze flickered to the roof of their shelter and then back to her ‘...some experience. Enough to know that it can, and should, be pleasurable to both people involved.’

  She licked her lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  ‘When I kissed you, you seemed to like it,’ he said into the darkness.

  Heat washed over her face and she was glad there was no light in the shelter so that he wouldn’t see. She returned her gaze to his chest so he couldn’t see the look in her eyes.

  ‘I did,’ she whispered.

  ‘So if you can enjoy that, then there is hope for you yet.’

  ‘Lord Swein never kissed me, so he hadn’t spoilt that for me.’

  She felt him jolt in surprise beneath her.

  ‘That was your first kiss?’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Yes.’

  Braedan groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Is that a problem?’ she asked, confused by his reaction.

  ‘Your first kiss should not have been on the floor of a broken-down hut. You deserve better.’

  Ellena didn’t know what to say. ‘I didn’t think you enjoyed it,’ she whispered eventually.

  He reached down and gently touched her cheek so that she tilted her face to his. ‘What gave you that idea?’

  ‘You ran away.’

  He sighed softly. ‘That wasn’t because I didn’t enjoy it. It was because I enjoyed it more than I should. It was absolutely the wrong thing for me to do. Much as it is now.’

  He leant down and gently pressed his lips to hers. She felt as if she had been waiting for this for days. His touch was like the warmth of a fire on freezing skin.

  She stretched upwards and pressed her mouth firmly against his. The effect was instantaneous.

  He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth while his hand roamed down her back to the gentle curve at the base of her spine.

  Soft moans filled the tent, and it was a while before she realised the noise was coming from her.

  Her hands itched to explore his body, and when he moved his lips down her neck she felt emboldened. She ran her fingers along his jaw and then followed the length of his neck to the edge of his collarbone. Running her fingers underneath the material of his tunic, she felt the soft hair of his chest and the hard muscles underneath.

  When his hand wrapped around her ankle she realised she had thrown her leg over his body. The feel of his skin against hers was breathtaking. Slowly, achingly slowly, his hand travelled up her leg, along her calf and to the back of her knee, his fingers leaving a trail of sensitised skin in their wake. Far from being repelled by his touch, she found that she wanted more. She longed to feel the whole of his body pressed against hers.

  Mindful of his injury, she tugged at the top of his tunic, revealing more of his broad chest as she did so. He gasped as her hand played across his skin, and she thrilled at the knowledge that she was affecting him as much as he was her.

  His hand passed over her thigh and she found herself tugging on the edge of her dress to make it easier for him. She thought he was going to touch her in the place where she ached most for him but he didn’t. Instead he pulled his mouth away from hers.

  Heavy breathing filled the air.

  ‘We must stop,’ he said, his voice gravelly and warm.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, trying to get her breathing back under control.

  Stopping was the last thing she wanted to do. She wanted Braedan’s body to banish all the bad times her own body had been through. Not once in all the time she had been married had she ever felt as she had over the last few incredible minutes.

  ‘Just to be clear,’ said Braedan thickly, ‘I don’t want to stop. But we must. I promised your father that I would protect you, and for us to go any further would betray his trust and my oath.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said again, because she didn’t really know what else to say.

  She hadn’t seen her father in eight years. Sometimes it was difficult to remember what he was like. Mostly she relied on other people’s reactions to the formidable man to form her memories. But right now the only man she could think about was the one half lying underneath her.

  Despite his words, Braedan gently brought his mouth to hers again and kissed her softly. This time he trailed his hand back down her leg and gently rearranged her dress.

  She almost moaned in disappointment when he finally took his mouth from hers. She only managed to stop herself by clinging to the last vestiges of her dignity.

  ‘We should try and get some sleep,’ he said softly.

  She wanted to shout and scream at him. How could he be so calm? Wasn’t his heart racing? Didn’t he want to touch her all over, just as she wanted to touch him?

  An icy chill washed over her. Perhaps he had just kissed her to be kind. After all, she had said how awful her life with Lord Swein had been and that she had enjoyed kissing Braedan. What if he’d just wanted to show her that being with someone could be pleasurable? He’d called their first kiss a mistake, after all.

  She slowly removed her arm and her leg from his body. She kept the blankets over both of them and tucked herself as close to him as she could manage without actually touching him.

  She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, but welcome oblivion fell upon her quickly.

  Chapter Eleven

  Braedan stared at the roof of their shelter. Light was coming through the fabric, which suggested morning had broken. Next to him Ellena slept soundly, her soft lips slightly parted.

  He had barely slept at all.

  He should get up and move away from the temptation she provided, but he couldn’t. Although they weren’t touching, he could feel the welcoming warmth of her body seeping across the small space between them. He wanted to tug her closer, so that she was half lying on him again. He wanted to feel the soft skin of her leg as he ran his hands along it, and this time he didn’t want to stop when he reached her thigh.

  In a day or two, unless any more disasters befell them, they would be back at Ogmore Castle and she would find out that the Earl of Borwyn was leading the race to become her next husband. She would also know that her father intended Braedan to take over the running of Castle Swein. She would hate him.

  He swallowed. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if her large blue eyes, the only eyes that had ever seen him as more than The Beast, looked at him full of loathing.

  She murmured something in her sleep and flung her arm around his waist. Awake, she’d probably prefer not to touch him. She’d certainly removed herself from him last night. But he couldn’t bring himself to remove her touch. It felt so right to lie with her arms around him.

  Even though he’d tried to tell her about his oath to Ogmore last night, she’d seemed to take his words as a rejection. If only she knew the truth. He wanted her more than he had any other woman. He’d faced death many times on the battlefield—so much so that he’d stopped fearing it—but he was afraid of the strength of his feelings for her.

  He shifted and the movement woke her up. She snatched her arm back and pulled herself into a sitting position. Her expressive eyes homed in on the wound on his arm and a throbbing burning sensation flooded the forefront of his mind.

  ‘How is your arm this morning?’ she asked, her voice soft with sleep.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said, and was rewarded with a frown.

  ‘It can’t be fine. There was an arrow sticking out of it yesterday
.’

  He couldn’t help but smile at her tone. He’d not had someone care about his wounds for as long as he could remember.

  ‘It hurts a bit,’ he conceded, and this time he was rewarded with a faint smile.

  He was considering ramping up his response to claim that he was in agony, in order to see if that got him an even better reaction, but she beat him to it.

  ‘You’ve had worse, though, of course?’ She rolled her eyes and flung back the blankets. ‘We’d best get going. We’re so close now I can almost smell the welcoming banquet my father is bound to insist upon.’

  He almost believed she was really as cheerful about returning to her father’s castle as she was making out. It was only the rigidity of her shoulders that gave her away.

  She worked in silence, packing away the blankets and then unhooking their makeshift shelter from the branches. With only one arm he was useless in the folding of all the material, so he made his way over to Copsi’s horse.

  ‘What shall we call you, then, boy?’ he said, stroking the stallion’s long neck.

  ‘How about Ffoi?’ suggested Ellena from across the clearing. ‘It means flee, which is something we’ve done a lot of in the last few days.’

  He laughed. ‘Ffoi it is, then. Let’s hope he lives up to his name.’

  ‘Is he rested enough for us to be going?’

  ‘Aye, he’s a good animal. Too good for the likes of Copsi. I think I’ll keep him once this is all over.’

  ‘Copsi certainly doesn’t deserve him,’ said Ellena as she attempted to tie a pack to Ffoi’s saddle.

  Braedan took the pack from her, his fingers brushing hers as he did so. He heard her quick intake of breath and longed to trail his fingers over the soft skin of her neck again. Instead he turned away and fixed the bundle to Ffoi’s side.

  By the time he turned back she was on the other side of the clearing, gathering up the rest of their supplies.

  He made no attempt to get onto Ffoi. His arm burned and he thought the effort would make it worse.

  ‘Shall I give you a leg up?’ he asked her.

  ‘Aren’t you going to get on as well?’

  ‘No, I’ll walk alongside today.’

  He hoped she wouldn’t ask why. He didn’t want to admit that his arm was hurting like the devil and show her just how weak he was feeling.

  She nodded, but instead of accepting his proffered arm she led Ffoi over to a tumbled-down tree trunk and mounted the horse from there.

  He sighed. From the set of her shoulders it was obvious she was annoyed with him again. Perhaps she thought his reluctance to get on the horse was because he didn’t want to touch her, when nothing could be further than the truth.

  ‘Do you have any idea where we are?’ she asked as she nudged Ffoi into a slow walk along the narrow trail.

  ‘Yes,’ he said with confidence.

  ‘You do?’ She looked down at him with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Yes, this is Hexham Woods. It’s a two-day ride to your father’s castle from here, depending on how fast we move. I’ve done several training exercises with my men along this path.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, and the wind had clearly been taken out of her sails.

  They walked for a while in silence.

  ‘The second thing I’m going to do after I get to Ogmore is wash,’ said Ellena eventually. ‘I think I’ll even burn these clothes—starting with this cloak. The fabric is so itchy.’

  She scratched the skin of her arm irritably.

  ‘What’s the first thing?’ asked Braedan, amused. ‘No, don’t tell me—the first thing you’re going to do is eat.’

  He grinned and she smiled in response. ‘Yes, you’ve guessed right. My mother’s cook makes the most amazing seed cakes. I’m going to devour a whole trencher of them.’

  She sighed in pleasure at the thought and Braedan’s body tightened at the sound.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

  Braedan turned his head and looked deeper into the trees. He knew what he wanted to do as soon as he was back, but he also knew what he had to do.

  ‘I expect I shall pay my respects to my mother and then I’ll get back to work.’

  He realised he sounded very dull in comparison to Ellena. Duty dictated that he must see his mother shortly after he returned, even though the meeting would be painful for both of them.

  ‘You don’t look as if you’re thrilled by the prospect,’ Ellena commented from high above him.

  He thought about shrugging and ignoring the conversation, but within a couple of days they might never speak again, and there was something about her voice that soothed his soul.

  He wouldn’t tell her everything. His mother’s increasingly erratic actions were something only his family knew about.

  ‘My relationship with my mother is somewhat...strained,’ he said eventually.

  ‘You said as much before. Why do you think that is?’

  Braedan kicked a log to move it out of the way, and watched as it disappeared into the undergrowth.

  ‘I haven’t lived with my mother since I was seven and started my knight’s training. I only returned after my father’s fall from grace. I think she was shocked by the way I’d turned out.’

  ‘Are you referring to your scars again?’ she asked, tilting her head towards him.

  He shrugged. He didn’t like to talk about his face. He hoped he wasn’t a vain man, but he would rather look like Borwyn—the man intended for Ellena—than have his own battle-weary face. He rubbed his jaw. He’d never given much thought to his appearance before. Being with Ellena was making him want the impossible.

  ‘I know you think she feels guilty, but I find that hard to believe,’ he said, not commenting on his scars.

  He didn’t want to look as if he was fishing for compliments, even if everything in him ached to hear her tell him again that she thought he was attractive.

  ‘My father’s disgrace hit us all hard, but it hit her worst. She’s used to a life of privilege—not being a poor dependant. She’s constantly worrying that I’m going to dishonour the family name even further and that she’ll be thrown out of your father’s castle.’

  He didn’t want Ellena to know that his father’s actions had sent his mother slightly mad, and that his sisters were suffering because without an estate he couldn’t provide them with a suitable dowry. Without the money his stewardship of Swein would give him, there would be nothing he could do for them. If he told her that then he might end up telling her about her father’s offer, and now was not the time he wanted her to find out.

  He didn’t know why he was telling Ellena any of it. He never discussed his family with anyone. But she was so easy to talk to. When he was with her his worries seemed to fade away until he wasn’t The Beast any more. He was Braedan again. A young man who had been full of hope for the future before his father’s actions had ruined his prospects and made him, in the eyes of the elite, no better than a rabid dog.

  ‘Surely your actions over the last eight years have shown her otherwise?’ Ellena commented primly.

  Braedan smiled slightly, pleased she’d leapt to his defence. He’d often thought his deeds should have earned some merit with his mother, but nothing he’d done had improved their relationship or repaired the mind that his father had damaged. He’d given up trying to impress her.

  ‘If I had a son,’ Ellena continued, ‘I would be proud of him no matter what.’

  She would, thought Braedan. Ellena would make a good mother—protective, fierce and kind. He only hoped that Borwyn would be able to give her children she so thoroughly deserved.

  He imagined a little girl with dark, rich hair and wide blue eyes like Ellena’s...

  It was only when his upper arm began to burn in pain that he realised he was clenching his fists. He slowly released his fin
gers. He was not going to be the man who gave her children and he needed to make peace with that fact. Even if by some miracle she wanted to marry him, she would quickly change her mind when she realised how badly he’d betrayed her. Besides, her father would never allow it, because Braedan had no useful land and was therefore useless.

  He turned his head away from her and looked through the trees, as if he would find the answer to his problems in their gnarled roots. The wind picked up and rustled the branches, sending a shower of orange leaves to the floor.

  A thought rubbed at the edge of his conscience. Perhaps he should tell her about her father’s plans for her future. She would be angry with him for tricking her into leaving her castle, but it wasn’t as if she could storm off back to Castle Swein by herself. They were so far away and the journey back would be fraught with danger.

  If he told her the truth now she would have a few days to prepare for meeting her father. He owed her a fighting chance at least. He doubted anything she said would change her father’s mind, so his future was probably secure. The Earl of Ogmore was a stubborn man. Once he’d made up his mind that something was going to happen he wouldn’t veer from that path.

  He turned his head to look at her and caught her gazing at him. Their eyes locked and the breath was knocked out of him. She was so beautiful, and the look in her eyes was unmistakable. The knowledge that his mother was repelled by him had upset her. She cared for him.

  The thought almost brought him to his knees.

  He couldn’t tell her the truth.

  He couldn’t bear to see the light in her eyes die as she realised how he’d betrayed her. The knowledge that he’d tricked her into leaving her castle would be bad enough, but when she found out his reward was to be stewardship of Castle Swein she would truly hate him.

  She’d find out once they reached Ogmore, but by then he would be busy with his own duties and their paths wouldn’t cross. The fact that this was the coward’s way out didn’t sit well with him, but if it gave him a couple more days of her looking at him like that then he’d take it.

  ‘Ellena, I...’ He stopped. He had no idea what he was going to say.