by Aston, Alexa
“Faylinn!” he cried, knowing the horse had hit another drop-off.
Immediately, the animal pushed to the surface, Faylinn still on his back, gasping for air. A surge of water knocked her from the horse’s back and she brushed past Drake. He caught her wrist for a moment and then she was torn from him, moving fast down the river and disappearing from sight.
He shouted her name again and released the reins, stroking quickly through the cold water. She bobbed up again ahead of him and then was drawn under once more.
He had to reach her. He couldn’t let her drown. He was responsible for her safety.
“Drake!”
She appeared again, being swept toward the bank as she thrashed in the water before going under once more. He drew in a deep breath and swam in her direction, praying he would find her in time. He reached where he’d last seen her and treaded water, looking furiously in every direction.
There . . .
Faylinn floated to the surface. Unmoving.
Kicking quickly, he caught up to her and towed her to the bank. Stumbling from the water, he gripped her under her arms and pulled her onto dry ground. She lay motionless, her face stark white.
“No!” he shouted in anguish.
He wouldn’t accept it. He lifted her and shook her to no avail. He had to get the water she’d swallowed out of her lungs. Settling her on the ground once more, he pushed against her chest, hoping to expel the water. If she hadn’t been with child, he would have pushed hard on her belly but he was afraid he would harm the babe. Repeating the action several times, nothing happened. He wailed loudly, knowing he had failed to keep Faylinn safe. That she’d been afraid of the swift water and he’d allowed those fears to become a reality by carelessly letting her drown.
Even worse, he’d killed the woman he’d come to love.
Suddenly, her body spasmed and she began sputtering and choking. Drake rolled her to her side as water gushed from her mouth. He patted her back firmly, trying to help rid her of it. Finally, no more came from her and she remained curled on her side, breathing heavily.
He clasped her shoulders and raised her upright, thinking she could breathe more easily. Those hazel eyes, which changed with her mood, glowed bright green, mesmerizing him.
Before good sense stopped him, Drake’s mouth covered hers.
Chapter Eleven
Faylinn barely had time to breathe, much less think, as Drake’s lips crashed into hers. His kiss was hard. Demanding. Urgent. Nothing she could ever have imagined—yet everything she could have hoped for—and more.
His fingers tightened on her shoulders as she latched on to his tunic, afraid he would pull away and end this bliss. His mouth urged her to open to him and she did, not knowing what to expect. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, searching, brushing hers, sending ripples of divine joy surging through her. The cold that had enveloped her changed as the velvet heat of his tongue stroked hers, lighting a fire deep within her.
She moaned as his hands slid from her shoulders and down her back, moving up and down, warming her even as his tongue teased hers. She hadn’t known tongues were involved with kissing and found this a most wonderful idea. She began not only enjoying his kiss but responding to it, mimicking his movements, tasting him as he did her. A low groan sounded in his throat and, for the first time, Faylinn felt a surge of feminine power ripple through her. To know she could affect a man such as Drake Harcourt made her giddy.
Somehow, he brought them to their feet. Her knees threatened to buckle from the physical exertion she’d undergone. The knight held her close to him, firmly yet tenderly. His insistent kiss softened and then he lifted his mouth from hers.
Faylinn was having none of it. Not now. Not after so long of having nothing and knowing nothing. Then wanting him and being unable to do anything about it. She tightened her grip on his tunic, preventing him from stepping away.
“My lady?” he asked, uncertainty in his blue eyes, which had darkened with desire.
“Kiss me,” she pleaded. “I need you.”
Sorrow crossed his face. “I cannot.” He tried to break away from her but she refused to yield.
“Kiss me,” she said again and saw him wavering.
She released her hold, sliding her hand up his chest and wrapping it around the nape of his neck, slowing pulling him down to her.
“Kiss me, Drake,” she urged.
And he did.
His hands encircled her waist as he pressed feather-soft kisses along her brow. Her eyelids. Down the slope of her nose. Then her lips. The kisses were long and sweet, one blending into the next, until Faylinn lost all sense of time and space. There was only this man. This moment.
And the desire that threaded through her.
Finally, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.
“You are soaked,” he said. “And chilled.”
“Not when I’m in your arms,” she replied, her fingers playing with the hair along the nape of his neck.
He grew serious. “You must get out of your wet clothes, my lady.”
“Faylinn,” she said quietly. “Please. Call me Faylinn.”
Drake raised his head. “I must build a fire. Find Starlight.”
She understood practical matters must take precedence now. They needed not only the horse but the satchel attached to him, containing all the coin and jewels she’d brought along for their journey.
The knight released her and she swayed slightly. Without warning, he scooped her into his arms and marched along the bank. She had never felt something so right as to be held by this man. This honorable knight.
Drake whistled and Starlight whinnied from a distance. He strode toward the noise and whistled twice more, the horse answering each time until they met in the middle. He placed her in the saddle and stroked the animal.
“Good boy,” he said soothingly. “I know you were frightened. I’m so glad you didn’t run off.”
She leaned down and patted the horse, echoing Drake’s words, and he swung up into the saddle behind her.
“The satchel remained attached but we lost the food we purchased,” he noted.
“Better the food than our lives,” she replied.
He cantered up the steep bank and into a sparse wood, looking for a road. Instead, she saw a small structure to their right.
“What’s that—over there?” she asked and pointed.
The knight turned the horse in that direction and they found it was a small hunting lodge. He dismounted.
“Stay here.”
Faylinn watched him disappear inside. He returned in a few minutes and captured her waist, lowering her to the ground.
As he untied the satchel, he told her, “No one is here but it looks as if it gets regular use. There are a few supplies in the larder and linens on the bed. Even a fire already laid in the hearth in anticipation of the owner’s next visit. I’ve already lit it.”
Drake looped Starlight’s reins on a post and took her hand, leading her inside. A cheery fire greeted them and she broke away from him, rushing toward its warmth.
“I’m going to care for the horse. You need to shed your sodden clothes and lay them before the fire. Will you be all right until I return?”
Faylinn nodded. He hesitated and she hoped he might kiss her again. Instead, he nodded curtly and left. She sat and removed her boots, glad to see the blade he’d given her was still there, and then peeled away her stockings. Struggling, she untied the cloak, heavy with water, and hung it over the back of the chair. Then she lifted her cotehardie, kirtle, and smock from her. Now, she only wore her chemise, which was as soaked as the rest of her clothes. It, too, would need to dry but she was reluctant to remove it.
She went into the next chamber, which contained a bed and small table with two chairs. She took the chemise off and lifted the blanket from the bed, wrapping it about her. Returning to the main room, she draped her clothing over various pieces of furniture and then brought the blanket more tightly about
her.
Drake returned, looking as wet and bedraggled as she’d been. He glanced around and saw her scattered clothes.
“Good, you’ve removed everything. It may take it until tomorrow for them to dry completely.”
“Is Starlight all right?”
“He is. There’s a small shed with a half-cover that will protect him and I gave him something to eat from a bin I found.”
“You need to get out of your wet things, too.”
“Not now,” he insisted. “First, I’ll go hunt for something for our meal. You sit by the fire and stay warm.”
He left her and she retreated to the hearth, working her braid loose and combing her fingers through her wet strands to help it dry more quickly. Her right hand was stiff from disuse. Suddenly, Faylinn shuddered, remembering the cold, dark water closing over her as she tried to fight her way back to the top, her skirts weighing her down. Death had been entirely too close. She wouldn’t think about it ever again.
At least the crisis had brought her together with Drake. Her fingertips brushed softly against her lips, knowing his had been there. The single kiss she’d received from Amaury to seal their vows had been brief, his dry lips pressing dispassionately against hers for a moment. Drake’s kiss was the opposite—full of heat and ardor. Wet. Insistent. Blissful.
Would there be more? Faylinn couldn’t say. Her future was uncertain, depending upon the babe she carried and whether it was a boy or girl. She had prayed to the Holy Mother for a son so that she and her boy might remain at Mallowbourne as she trained him to become a good baron and liege lord to his people. Kissing Drake, though, had turned her world upside down. She doubted King Edward would grant her permission to wed the knight. He’d send one of his own men to replace Amaury and she would be required to wed the king’s choice.
Yet how could she wed another when her heart cried out for Drake Harcourt?
With a fierceness unlike any she’d ever known, Faylinn implored the Virgin to give her a daughter instead. A girl would mean Faylinn would never return to Mallowbourne. She could remain with Ashby. Her brother would understand. He had married for love. He would take on Drake as one of his men and allow them to marry.
She rubbed her belly, hoping now for a daughter, so that she might have a future with Drake.
*
Faylinn rode with Drake on Starlight. The noon hour approached and she hoped he would stop so they could stretch and partake in a small meal. She wouldn’t ask, though. She couldn’t. Not after what had passed between them.
She thought once he returned to the hunting lodge, they would have talked about what had occurred between them. Their kiss. Or the many kisses they had shared. She couldn’t have been more wrong. The knight never brought it up. He seemed stiff and awkward around her and had remained so the past two days. They communicated in as few words as possible. Those kisses hung in the air, like the Sword of Damocles swaying above them. They were both aware of the tension—and yet neither did anything about it. Faylinn thought Drake should bring up the matter. After all, he had been the one to first kiss her. Yet when he’d tried to put an end to their kisses, she had been the one who clung to him, clutching him so he couldn’t leave and practically forcing his lips to hers.
It didn’t matter. Faylinn realized she had made some huge mistake—though she had no idea what she had done wrong. She was a widow. Beholden to no man. If she felt like kissing someone, she was free to do so. Of course, she tried to look at it from Drake’s position. She was the widow of the man the knight had pledged his loyalty to, a woman he was bound to protect. He might have desired her for a brief moment but had tried to put a stop to it. She was with child, a babe who might become the next Baron of Gaynesford. It would be beyond awkward for her to return to Mallowbourne and raise her babe, wed to another sent by the king, while Drake remained in the ranks of Mallowbourne’s soldiers.
She supposed he’d realized he’d made a dreadful mistake and was being noble by not referring to it. Faylinn decided she would follow his lead. They would put the incident behind them and never refer to it. Of course, just because they wouldn’t speak of it didn’t mean she wouldn’t think of it—and often. Drake Harcourt was everything she could ever desire in a man. Honorable. Strong. Kind. Steadfast. He even displayed a good sense of humor. Before their kisses, she had laughed quite a bit on this trip. She determined to try and ease things back to the way it had been before in order to make the rest of the trip pleasant.
But for as long as Faylinn lived, she would remember the knight’s kiss.
She decided to clear the air between them and said, “Do you think we might stop for a bit, Sir Drake? I’d enjoy the chance to move about and we could eat some of the apples and cheese you purchased.”
“If you’d like, my lady. It looks as if there’s a cottage up ahead. Mayhap we can stop there and water Starlight and pay the tenant for a meal.”
He kept the horse at an even gait and Faylinn knew it was so she wasn’t jarred overly much. As they reached a bend in the road, she saw the cottage he spoke of. They cantered into the open yard, chickens scattering as they did, and surprise filled her.
“A woman!” she called out, spying a still form lying in the clearing.
Drake pulled on Starlight’s reins and halted the horse, immediately jumping off and helping Faylinn to the ground. They both rushed over as a scream filled the air.
She knelt and saw the woman curled into a tight ball on her side, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Are you ill? Can we help you?” she implored.
The woman opened her eyes and Faylinn saw them clouded with pain. She glanced down at the shapeless gown and back to the woman’s face, seeing she was not yet a score old.
“You are in labor,” she stated and the woman nodded. Looking to Drake, Faylinn said, “We must get her into the cottage.”
The knight slipped his arms under the woman and lifted her. She groaned.
Faylinn hurried ahead, opening the door and stepping inside. She directed Drake to lay the woman on a pallet and then told him to put two separate pots of water on to boil and find as much clean linen as he could. The knight nodded, looking happy to have a task to accomplish.
“What is your name?” Faylinn asked.
“Rosina.” She winced. “It’s too early. The babe shouldn’t come for another two or three weeks.”
She took Rosina’s hand and with her other brushed the hair away from the woman’s face. “Babes have a mind of their own, even while in the womb. Some come early and some come late. I should know. I have delivered my fair share over the years.”
“You know what to do?” Rosina asked, looking very young and hopeful.
“I do. I have helped birth many babes on my husband’s estate. My name is Lady Mary.”
Faylinn didn’t know if she and Drake were still claiming their false names. She thought it better to use it just in case.
“I was going to gather my chickens and go to Velma’s.” Another pain gripped Rosina and she grimaced. “Velma is my sister. She lives two miles from here. She promised to care for me.”
“What of your husband?” Faylinn asked.
“He’s dead,” Rosina said dully.
She squeezed Rosina’s hand. “I, too, am a widow.” She placed a hand against her belly. “And I am also with child. Do not worry, Rosina. Sir Michael and I will see you through this.”
Chapter Twelve
Drake got the pots of water on to boil, grateful a fire already existed. He went outside and retrieved a few more logs and put one into the flames, keeping two others in reserve. He knew nothing about birthing babes and was grateful Faylinn accompanied him. The young woman they’d discovered had already cried out hoarsely twice, piercing his soul. He couldn’t imagine what she would go through over the next few hours.
Or that Faylinn would do the same in the coming months.
He cursed himself inwardly for being a coward. He hadn’t addressed the kiss between them. Instead, he’d ig
nored it as if it had never occurred. It had led to things being uncomfortable between them. He didn’t know how to broach the matter, though. He couldn’t tell her it had been the greatest moment of his life. To kiss a woman such as Faylinn d’Albert, one who was kind and beautiful and compassionate, and to have that kiss be the best he’d ever experienced. Drake had had his fair share of women, from mere kissing and cuddling to coupling. Nothing previously had come close to the flames of desire the Baroness of Gaynesford lit within him.
He’d kissed her without thought—and then realized it was the last thing he should have done. When he tried to break away from her, though, she had pulled him back. To see the light and heat in her eyes nearly did him in and he had kissed her as if they had no tomorrow to answer to. Tomorrow always came calling, though, and he understood why they could never be together. He was a lowly knight. She was highborn lady. Her future would be dictated by other men, not him.
Drake had hated the awkward silence between them. Even when they did speak to one another, their conversation proved stilted. He swore to put an end to that. He didn’t have much longer in her company. He would enjoy their time together and live on the memory of those kisses until his grave.
He went to her now. Already, she’d soothed the young woman.
“This is Sir Michael,” Faylinn said. “And this is Rosina. Her child is coming a little early, as babes are wont to do, and she has lost her husband.”
Pity filled him, seeing the frightened young woman and knowing she would have to raise her child alone.
“She also has a sister, Velma. Rosina was making ready to go to her sister when the birthing pains struck her,” Faylinn continued. “I have already checked and it will be several hours before her babe arrives. She will need sustenance when she is done. Would you kill and pluck one of the chickens and put it on to boil?”
Rosina raised up on her elbows. “I only use the eggs, my lady.”
“You need the meat,” Faylinn insisted. “Do not worry. I’ll replace the chicken tenfold.”
