by Byrne, Julia
“’Tis all right,” he said at once, knowing by the tremor that shook her that she was aware of his response to her. “You’re safe. I want you, but I’m not going to do anything about it.” Not right now, he added to himself. “You’re safe with me, Nell.”
She was silent.
Very carefully he released her wrists. Her hands went at once to his chest, but she made no attempt to push him away. He flattened one hand at her back and began a gentle stroking movement.
“Do you believe you’re safe with me, princess?”
“Safe?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “When I know you want what every other man has wanted from me. When I can feel you against me?”
She stopped, appalled by her blunt words. But still unable to free herself, unable to trust herself to stand without his support.
She felt his mouth curve in a smile against her suddenly burning cheek. “Aye, a man’s desire cannot be hidden,” he murmured wryly. “But I’ll never force you, Nell. In my arms you’re as safe as you want to be.”
She was too exhausted to work that out. Too wearied by her emotional battering to wonder at her response to Rafe. She should have been afraid, but the instant she’d stopped fighting him, the heat and sheer male power of his body poured over her, drowning her in sensation. She longed to stay in his embrace forever, safe, protected, savoring the strength of his arms, the heavy beat of his heart, the tightly restrained force of his desire.
A ripple of uneasiness stirred her to life. If he had not spoken, if his desire remained unacknowledged between them, would she have renewed her struggles or given in to the heat and strength overwhelming her senses?
The fact that she didn’t know the answer scared her more than the events of the past ten years put together.
“Please let me go,” she said softly.
His laugh held a note that sent excitement and trepidation shivering down her spine. “If I do you will fall.”
Heat stung her cheeks again when she realized he was taking her entire weight. She straightened so smartly her head nearly clipped his jaw.
“There. I’m standing.”
His grip shifted to her arms, steadying her before he lowered his hands. “Good,” he murmured. “I want you willing, princess, not weak.”
“What makes you think you will have me at all,” she muttered.
But Rafe only smiled darkly and bent to retrieve the bag of hyssop.
Nell decided not to pursue the dangerous question. She felt shattered, as though something had been torn from her, some part of herself that she’d kept locked away all these years but which had now broken free, only to be captured and held by a man who made her want things she had never thought were possible.
Shaken, she looked up to find him watching her, and the strange yearning increased, tightening her throat until it ached.
“When we get back to camp I’ll burn this,” he said.
She made a small gesture of repulsion. “Do what you will with it. I never want to see it again.”
“You’ve never used it, have you? Despite knowing its properties.”
“Never.”
“Little fool,” he growled roughly. “Didn’t you know the decision would tear you apart?”
“I refused to think of it until the last moment.” She laughed suddenly, a sound without humor. “The witch was right. At the fair… Oh!” Her hand went instinctively to her crucifix and a startled exclamation broke from her lips.
“What is it?”
“Naught. That is…I must have dropped…” She began peering at the ground, conscious that Rafe’s gaze was sharpening again. Well, he would just have to do without an explanation. She was simply not up to the task of manufacturing one.
“Is this what you’re looking for?”
She straightened as Rafe bent and scooped up the half-opened pouch. Even in the near-darkness she could see that several inches of jeweled chain was spilling from its hiding place and lying across his palm.
“Aye.” She stepped forward to retrieve her property. “Thank you.”
He ignored her outstretched hand and opened the pouch so the heavy gold crucifix was revealed. Nell let her hand fall to her side as she watched Rafe examine the engraving on the solid bars of the cross. He weighed it in his palm.
“A valuable and unusual crucifix,” he murmured, his gaze shifting from the jeweled chain to her face. “Where did it come from?”
“’Tis mine, of course.”
One brow went up. “You’ve been wearing it all this time?”
“Aye.”
“You’ve been wearing it very well concealed then, princess. Why?”
“Not because ’tis stolen,” she flashed, desperation causing her to take refuge in temper.
To her amazement he laughed. “You know, I’m beginning to understand how your mind works, Nell. Stolen is exactly what this is, isn’t it?”
“Nay! It belonged to my mother and now ’tis mine.” Oh, why did everything have to go wrong at once? Hadn’t she coped with enough today? She felt her lower lip quiver and bit down hard.
Rafe reached out, tipped her chin up, and stroked his thumb across her lip, freeing it from between her teeth.
“Tell me why this was hidden,” he coaxed, cradling her cheek with his hand. “Trust me.”
“I…I do,” she stammered. “I do trust you, but…”
“But?”
’Tis not my secret to tell. I’m not even sure there is a secret.
“I don’t know you,” she cried. Jerking her face away from his touch, she retreated a pace or two. “I don’t know what you’ll do.”
“You know more of me than anyone on this earth,” he said seriously. “Except three others.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “The King, Sir Richard, and the man who stole from you.”
He nodded, his gaze intent on hers.
He would wait until he wore her down, she realized. And she possessed few defenses against his will. She didn’t even want to fight him. Besides, he did know what it was like to have something taken from him when he’d been helpless to prevent it. He knew what it was to be betrayed.
“My mother wore that crucifix all the time,” she said slowly. “It never left her possession. My father gave it to her, you see.”
She looked away, gazing into the shadowy distance as memory took her back to her childhood.
“The night she lay dying she sent the servants out of the room and gave me the crucifix. She made me swear by my love for her to keep it close until it could be buried with her.”
“She didn’t ask her priest to ensure it?”
Nell blinked. “Nay. She sent him away. I don’t know why. He was old. Mayhap she thought he might not keep it safe and a servant would be tempted to steal it.”
She shrugged and continued. “She should have asked him rather than me. When the servants came back into the chamber my nurse took me away and I never saw my mother again. She died that night. The next morning Uncle Edward’s steward arrived with an escort to take me to Langley. I was not allowed to attend my mother’s burial or visit her grave. All the servants I knew were dismissed, and we left that very day. I found out later that my father knew my mother was dying. She had sent him a message, and the arrangements to take me to Langley Castle were already in train.”
Rafe frowned. “Has your uncle never permitted you to visit Wells to fulfill your vow?”
“I wasn’t even permitted to keep the crucifix,” she retorted, remembered anger giving her voice an edge. “There was no privacy at Langley. I didn’t have a saint’s chance in Purgatory of keeping such a valuable object. The moment my aunt laid eyes on it, she claimed it for herself and took it from me.”
A faint smile softened his mouth. “Not without a fight, I warrant.”
“She still has the marks to prove it,” Nell said grimly.”
“Hmm. I can see why she was not overjoyed to welcome you into her household, princess. Why didn’t you take your claim fu
rther if it meant so much to you? Not then, but when you grew older.”
“To whom should I have taken it, my lord?” she asked coolly. “Three years ago I thought to do just that, but King Henry had fled to Scotland and Margaret of Anjou to France to rally more supporters to their cause. Should I have taken my claim to Edward of York, mayhap?”
His eyes narrowed at her tone. “Three years ago Edward had just been crowned King. Lending ear to a young girl’s petition would have suited him nicely.”
“So it did. For a price.”
Rafe’s face was suddenly grim. “And what price was that, lady?” As if he didn’t know.
“The price I expect he demands of every woman. I was only thirteen at the time, so he drew the line at holding a knife to my throat, but—”
“Enough!”
Thirteen! By the pit, he did not want to hear any more. The stark violence of the emotions tearing him apart was shattering. If Nell said one more word, just one, he would be unable to think of anything except avenging her.
And how was he supposed to do that, he asked in silent self-mockery. Challenge his king because of a years-old encounter that had nothing to do with him?
With a stifled curse, he stuffed the crucifix back into its pouch and shoved it out of sight in the pocket of his surcoat. Let it suffice that Nell had got her crucifix back. The sooner he arranged to have it placed in her mother’s tomb the better.
“What’s past, is past,” he said. “We won’t speak of this again.”
“But—”
He closed the distance between them with one swift, gliding stride, and laid his fingers against her mouth. “No more,” he ordered gently. And, removing his hand, he bent and kissed her.
It was the briefest caress, a fleeting brush of his lips across hers, but Nell felt the impact of his tenderness in the deepest, most carefully guarded reaches of her heart.
“We’d better get back to the camp,” he murmured. “You need food and sleep or you’ll never stay in the saddle tomorrow.”
“I’ve managed so far,” she felt obliged to point out. But ’twas a half-hearted effort at best. She didn’t want to argue with Rafe. She was too tired; his gentleness too seductive. At this moment it didn’t even seem important that she hadn’t told him the whole story. Or that he still had her crucifix. ’Twas safe with him. She would ask him for it later.
He glanced down at her, his arm about her waist keeping her close to his side as they walked back through the trees. But there was no danger in him now, she thought. Only safety and protection.
“If we leave early we should reach Wells by mid-afternoon,” he said as the first of the huts came into sight. “I’ll take you straight to the Bishop’s palace and—”
He stopped dead, his arm tightening around her.
Startled, she glanced up to see the cause of his sudden stillness.
“It looks like the day is not over yet,” he said very softly. “Damn it.”
A few paces away, his back to them, Richard was confronting what to Nell’s startled gaze looked to be every man in the village. Then she saw that the crowd was divided. Three men stood apart from the others; the larger group included Simpkin and young Luke.
Richard half turned his head at Rafe’s comment. “I can handle this,” he said quietly.
Rafe moved closer, Nell still pinned to his side. “What’s going on?”
“I announced my intention to seek a pardon and turn honest,” Richard replied. “The reception was mixed, as you see, and the rogues who prefer a life of crime are blaming you.”
“Brave of them,” Rafe said dryly. “Mayhap they’d like to discuss the matter with me.”
“We only want what’s fair,” growled the tallest of the three. “You promised us rich pickings, Dickon, and one last job will provide it.” From beneath a thatch of unkempt reddish hair, his gaze flickered over Nell and returned to Richard.
“What the hell does he mean by that?” Rafe demanded in a voice that made her jump.
“Someone overheard Mistress Nell telling Bess you’re her bodyguard.” Richard sent her a quick, apologetic glance. “They seem to think that a woman travelling alone with a bodyguard must be worth a considerable amount of money to someone.”
“Aye, for her person or her whereabouts,” the outlaw said. “We don’t intend to hurt the wench, and there’ll be a share in it for you if you like,” he added, nodding at Rafe.
Nell was certain Rafe hadn’t moved, but menace was suddenly coming off him in waves. He took his arm from her waist and stepped forward a pace so she was half-shielded by his body. His right hand rested lightly on his sword-hilt. She couldn’t see his face, but his voice would have frozen the fires of hell.
“Is this how you repay my lady for tending your women and children?”
A low rumble of angry support from the larger group rolled across the clearing. It reminded her of the fair just before the fight broke out.
“None of us have women here,” the trio’s spokesman retorted.
“Then there’s nothing to stop you from leaving.”
“Not until we—”
“You heard him,” Richard interrupted. “Take your weapons and some food and get out.”
For several tense seconds the threat of violence hovered over the settlement, as if awaiting a signal. Then the men glanced from Rafe and Richard to the silent group opposite and Nell saw acknowledgement of their weaker position cross each face in turn.
“Come on, Ned,” one of the three muttered. “No wench is worth getting cut up for.”
Ned apparently agreed. His mean little eyes glared at Rafe but he backed down.
“See that they get their share of whatever money we have,” Richard told Simpkin, as the rest of the crowd dispersed. He turned to Rafe. “You’d better take a longbow with you tomorrow. There’s no telling if those fools will take it into their thick heads to follow you, but they’ll turn tail and run when they learn you don’t miss what you shoot at.”
Rafe nodded. He didn’t seem particularly worried about the possibility of having to pick off anyone foolish enough to follow them, Nell thought. She realized she was holding her breath and let it out in a long sigh.
He turned to her. “Come on, princess. You’re almost asleep on your feet. You can eat in the hut.”
“Best keep her out of sight until I have those three escorted off the premises,” Richard agreed. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mistress Nell.” With a nod to Rafe he walked away.
“Believe me, I was in no danger of falling asleep during that little encounter,” she said with great feeling as she followed Rafe across the clearing. She remembered the expression in Ned’s eyes when he’d looked at her, and shuddered. “Can I have a bow, too?”
“Nay.”
The blunt, uncompromising reply took her aback.
“Why not?”
Rafe stopped outside Bess’s hut. “Because, apart from the odd scar or two, I’m still in one piece and I would like to stay that way.”
“Holy Saints! I’m not going to shoot you!”
“I’m sure you’ll understand why I wish to be certain of that.”
“Well! Of all the—”
The rest of her indignant protest was smothered by his hand. “I know you’re used to relying only on yourself, princess,” he said very quietly. “But you don’t have to fight your own battles any more. I’ll protect you.”
He removed his hand, but she didn’t speak immediately. Of course he understood. He, too, had been alone nearly all his life, able to rely on no one but himself, forced to fight his own battles. She wondered what he would say if she told him how very alike they were.
“I do not trust easily,” she said at last. “But…nor do you.”
“Nay,” he agreed. “But sometimes…” He frowned, as if considering. “Sometimes, Nell, just lately, I’ve wondered if trust can be learned.” He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “A question for the philosophers, no doubt, not for a warrior.”<
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“No doubt,” she murmured.
“Tell me—” His voice was still quiet, still gentle, but she sensed the moment of fragile intimacy was over. He was withdrawing from her; the part of him that might never trust a woman closing off again.
“The camp was attacked only five days ago,” he went on. “This girl who was raped, you cannot know if there will be a child from it.”
“I don’t.” She drew a deep breath. “I would never have known one way or the other.”
He nodded, his gaze holding hers. “But you couldn’t bring yourself to be sure of it.”
When she didn’t answer, he lifted his hand and tucked an escaped tendril of hair into her crespinette. His hand lingered, his long fingers tracing the line of her jaw to her chin.
“Soft little Nell,” he murmured. “Don’t fear that it makes you weak.” He let his hand fall to his side. “And don’t fret about the girl. We’ll look after her, whatever happens. Go inside. I’ll bring you something to eat, then you should get some sleep.” He gave her a fleeting smile and walked away.
She turned and entered the hut with yet another question circling in her mind. Did Rafe mean ‘we’ in the literal sense? Did he mean they would care for the girl together? How could that be, when he would leave once he returned her to her father? Unless—
Nay. What she was thinking was impossible. She was the last person Rafe would want to marry. And she didn’t want to be answerable to a husband anyway.
But there was no longer any real conviction in that last thought, and she knew it. Just for a moment that ‘we’ had given her a glimpse of a future that beckoned irresistibly, a future that promised warmth after coldness, closeness to another after years of solitude.
