by Byrne, Julia
Rafe looked at him, not bothering to hide his contempt. “Tell your father that if you, or he, or any other member of your family comes near Lady Eleanor fitzWarren again, I will assume ’tis with the intent of doing her harm and I will act accordingly. Is that clear?”
Tom glared blearily back at him. Nursing his jaw, he opened his mouth to reply, glanced past Rafe, and shut his lips on whatever he’d been about to say. Nodding stiffly, he gave his men the signal to start.
Rafe watched them go, thankful the process had been so easy. He’d taken a risk assuming the men wouldn’t fight if Tom was taken out of the reckoning, but they still could have turned on him. There’d been three men capable of using a bow—or a knife, come to that. He hadn’t left them entirely weaponless to face the journey back to Langley.
Then he turned and saw the reason for his adversaries’ co-operation.
Nell was standing motionless in front of the rocks. She had retrieved another bow and an arrow and was poised ready to fire, the weapon aimed steadily at the place where Tom had been.
Something unbearably poignant tightened inside Rafe as he took in the sight of her. She looked like a young warrior queen, ready to fight at the side of her men. Her crespinette had fallen off when he’d grabbed her and hauled her behind the rocks, and her long hair flowed free in the wind, a dark chestnut banner against the green of her surcoat. She stood slightly side-on to him, the bow held in a grip that was practised and sure. His throat tightened when he saw that the weapon was at least a foot too long for her. And yet, despite that, she had been willing to fight with him, had risked her life to help him.
He walked slowly toward her, knowing that with every step he was moving closer to a destiny he no longer questioned.
She wasn’t looking at him. As he drew nearer, he saw that her eyes, huge in her delicate face and darkened to the shadowed green of a woodland pool, were fixed on the point where the arrow was aimed. He made his voice low so he wouldn’t startle her, but tension was gathering, racing through his body like wildfire out of control.
“You can put the bow down now. They’ve gone.”
Nell blinked and looked at the weapon as if she’d never seen it before. Carefully she eased her hold on the drawn bowstring and let the arrow fall. “A good thing I didn’t have to use it,” she said, her voice expressionless. “’Tis heavier than I’m used to.”
She felt strange, unsettled, as if not sure what to do or say next. Nor could she look at Rafe, although she sensed his gaze hadn’t wavered from her face. She mustn’t let him see her eyes. That was the only clear thought in her head. If he did, if he looked into her eyes, he would see the sick terror that had seized her when he’d walked into the open, thinking Tom beaten.
But he didn’t know her cousin as she did. Tom might have been hurt, but he was vicious and stupid, a combination as volatile as it was dangerous. One rash word from him and Rafe could have been killed. Never mind that he would probably have killed Tom at the same time. He would have died.
“’Tis over,” she whispered, as though reassuring herself. “We’re safe.”
“Over?” Rafe’s voice was suddenly so harsh she jumped. Her gaze flew to his face.
“Safe?” The bow was wrenched from her grasp with such speed she barely noticed it was gone. Rafe flung the weapon to the ground and thrust his hands at her. They were shaking.
“Look at that,” he ground out. “I’ve been like this since you made that insane, suicidal dash for those arrows, and knowing you’re safe isn’t stopping me from thinking about what could have happened to you!”
She started to shiver deep inside. His fierce hawk’s eyes were filled with emotions that were primitive, savage, all civilized restraint gone.
“Rafe,” she breathed. Just his name. She took a step toward him, her hand lifting to touch the graze on his jaw, and something else flashed in that burning gaze. The ruthless purpose she had sensed before, unleashed at last, and unstoppable.
He reached for her, sweeping her up into his arms without warning. Then, his gaze holding hers, he turned and carried her back into their shelter among the rocks.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nell was trembling when he laid her on the grass and knelt beside her, but she could no more have stopped him than she could stop the frantic beating of her heart.
Rafe didn’t love her. She knew that. ’Twas only passion, a primitive urge to couple, born of danger and the threat of death, but she would take it. She would have this moment to remember when he was gone; the way he touched her face with his fingertips, as if he didn’t trust himself with a firmer caress, the fine tremor still in his hands as he swiftly unlaced her surcoat, then her gown and shift. The almost agonized expulsion of air as he parted the garments and watched the rosy tips of her breasts peak in the cool air.
Just for a moment shyness threatened to overwhelm her, a ripple of trepidation at the awareness that she was lying half-naked beneath his gaze. But then he closed his hands over her breasts and fire streaked through her body, drawing a whimper of pleasure from her. Her head went back and she wanted to close her eyes, to abandon herself to the gentle caress of those powerful hands, but now something more than shyness held her back, something deep within herself that clamored for acknowledgement.
’Twas in his face, she thought vaguely. Hunger, desire, but more.
She forced herself to think, to try to understand, and shivered when she saw the fierceness in his eyes, the sharp-edged look of passion on his face. Men had looked at her with desire before now, but this…this intensity, this utterly focused need, was terrifying. He would demand everything that she was.
And in that moment she knew with mind-shattering clarity that there was nothing he could demand that she wouldn’t give. Willingly. Passionately.
Somewhere, sometime, in the past few days, she had fallen in love with him. With his fierceness, his moments of gentleness, the vulnerable boy he had once been, the strong man he had become. Her body, her heart, her very soul, were his.
“Rafe,” she said again, and this time in the sound of his name there was knowledge, trust, love.
He made a rough sound in his throat and came down over her, his mouth hard and urgent on hers, his tongue plundering deep, until she was kissing him back as frantically, her arms around him, her hands probing the powerful muscles of his back, learning him, savoring the power in him.
She could no longer think, could no longer speak or breathe, but it didn’t matter. She was alive as she had never been before. While Rafe kissed her, caressed her, awakened her body once more to his touch, she lived only for him. He groaned against her mouth and she felt the vibrations of sound echo all through her body.
“You’re mine,” he said roughly. “Mine! I don’t care who…”
He swept her skirts upward as he spoke and his words ceased to make sense. She cried out when he touched her, when he found the soft, melting center of her womanhood and stroked her there. She was mindless, drowning in sensation, almost sobbing with pleasure.
Rafe tore his mouth from hers, wanting to see her, wanting to watch her as he touched the sweet heat between her thighs, but the lure of her parted lips, swollen and moist from his kisses, defeated him, lured him with images of the deeper possession to come. He couldn’t wait. He was burning, aching, shuddering uncontrollably with the need to have her.
Dimly he realized he could be endangering them both by taking her here, but instincts, wild and savage, were driving him. He had to make her his, had to brand her with his body until she remembered no other man but him. He lifted his weight slightly to free himself from his clothing and it was like tearing away his flesh to be apart from her even for that brief moment.
His arms closed around her again and he pressed her legs wider, groaning as he felt the silky warmth of her body begin to enclose him. He buried his face in her hair, fighting for control. She was so small. Small and tight.
“By the saints, I can’t wait,” he rasped. “Nell, I can�
��t—”
Her sharp cry tore through the mists of desire as he thrust into her with the full force of his body. Rafe froze, his breath suspended, hardly able to believe the evidence of his senses.
“Nell?” He raised his head, his fingers spearing into her hair to hold her still for his shocked scrutiny. She gazed up at him, her hazel eyes luminous with tears that she instantly blinked away.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said urgently. And he felt the truth of that in the sudden pulsing of her body around him. “It doesn’t… Oh, Rafe. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
A ragged sound that could have been a groan or a laugh was torn from him. “Stop? God, I couldn’t stop now if there was a loaded crossbow at my head. Nell, sweetheart…”
She was innocent! She was his! The thought nearly drove him over the edge. Only the knowledge of her innocence, and the feel of her, soft and fragile, beneath him, gave him the will to leash his strength, to take her slowly. For her he could be gentle. Only for her.
He felt her tremble, felt the involuntary tensing of her body as he withdrew slightly, and touched her face with a tenderness he hadn’t known he possessed.
“’Tis all right, sweeting,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you again.” He began kissing her, easing her back into passion with gentle stroking movements of his body. “Relax. Just relax for me.”
Relax? How could she when Rafe was seducing her so gently, so sweetly? When all her senses were filled with him, overwhelmed by him? She had never imagined such closeness. She felt bound, linked to him forever by the unbreakable chains of this most intimate act. Her will gone, her very self merged with his, no longer separate.
And the sweet, pulsing ache that grew and grew until she couldn’t bear it any longer. He began to move more forcefully, and tension coiled tighter within her. Impossibly tighter. ’Twas like being caged by fire and yet she felt no desire to be free. The unrestrained force of his desire was too powerful, burning away everything but the need to belong to him. Her heart raced so fast it must surely burst; she heard her own voice pleading, felt her body arching helplessly beneath his, and wondered distantly if she would simply shatter. If she hadn’t trusted him so deeply the total loss of control would have terrified her.
Then his arms tightened around her with crushing strength and she felt the edge of his teeth against the side of her throat.
“Nell. Nell…”
The wildfire of sensation was too much. She barely heard the sound of her name. The tightening coil of tension sprang open and a torrent of the most voluptuous pleasure flooded every part of her being. She was helpless, blind, deaf. Exquisite sensation blotted out everything, throbbing through her in wave after wave of ecstasy, until, slowly, the waves became ripples that drew his name from her with every sighing breath she took.
* * *
Sound came back first. The wind moaning softly through the rocks, the twitter of a bird, the faint restless movements of the horses.
Nell lay motionless, listening to the sounds of reality as her heartbeat returned to normal and the delicious sense of utter limpness that enfolded her began to fade.
And in its wake came tension, coldness, dread. Ice touched her skin, a chill that spread from her head to her feet as she realized the completeness of Rafe’s withdrawal.
She was alone again. He had straightened her clothing while she’d lain almost senseless with bliss, covering her against the autumn wind, but she no longer felt the wonderful weight of his body, was no longer protected by the hard strength of his arms, no longer engulfed by the fire of his passion. He wasn’t touching her at all, although she sensed he was near.
One of the horses stamped and snorted, making harness jingle, and she turned her head in that direction. Rafe was lying on his back beside her, his clothing restored to order, one arm flung across his eyes. His other hand lay clenched in the grass at his side.
The longing to reach out and touch him, to entwine her fingers with his, to hold on, somehow, to the feeling of being one with him, was almost overwhelming. But the way he was lying…
Could he not bear even to look at her?
She felt sick with nerves. What in Christendom was she supposed to say? What could she say when she had just given herself to a man she’d met only three days ago? Three days! And for most of that time he’d considered her a nuisance at best. Holy Mother, what was he thinking, lying there so still and quiet? Was he regretting what had happened?
Of course he was.
She flinched inwardly at her own answer, but what else was she to think? He didn’t love her. He didn’t trust women. He had thought her experienced and was probably cursing her for deceiving him.
Dear God, how could she endure his resentment, his disgust? Even if he blamed himself, in part or entirely, the knowledge of his regret would burn through her memories of this time with him until there was nothing left but ashes and heartache.
Nell clenched her fists as determination flowed through her. She would not have this spoilt! She would not be made to feel shame because she had given herself to the man she loved, even if he didn’t want or know of her love.
She sat up and with shaking hands began to lace up her gown. Her crucifix gleamed up at her from the grass. Rafe must have removed it, she thought, slipping the chain over her head, and in the heat of their passion she hadn’t even noticed.
He stirred beside her as if he felt her movement, and she knew he was watching her.
“The wind blows cold,” she observed, with a composure King Edward’s notoriously ice-cold queen would have envied. “And ’twill be dark in an hour or two. We should be going.”
He came up off the ground as if propelled by a catapult, grasping her hands and pulling her to her feet in the same swift movement. “Don’t,” he said, taking her in his arms and pressing her head against his shoulder. “Just…don’t.”
She stood quietly within his embrace but she didn’t soften against him. Let him apologize for this, she thought grimly, and I’ll hit him.
She felt his head lower to hers. “Are you all right?” he asked very low. He began stroking her back in a movement that was probably meant to be soothing, but only succeeded in pulling her already taut nerves tighter.
“Of course I’m all right,” she muttered. “Why wouldn’t I be when you…we…” Her courage quailed at the thought of trying to describe the incredible pleasure he’d given her.
He gave a short laugh. “I don’t wonder you find it impossible to describe. I went at you like—” His breath hissed out and he held her closer.
Sudden awareness hit her like a bolt from a crossbow. He was regretting the way he’d taken her, not the act itself.
Oh, blessed mother, let it be so.
“Like a man who has just seen us through a very real threat to our lives,” she said, lifting her head. The piercing intensity in his eyes almost made her falter. Shy color stained her cheeks but she held his gaze unflinchingly. “You didn’t hurt me.”
When he raised a disbelieving brow, her color deepened. “Well, only for the veriest moment.”
“But you’re so small and I was— Sweet Jesu, Nell, I must have scared you witless.”
“Witless, indeed,” she muttered, lowering her gaze to his surcoat as she remembered her utter abandonment to ecstasy. “But not from fear.”
In the deafening silence that followed, she wished she could be struck mute. When was she ever going to learn to guard her unruly tongue?
“I…I mean I wasn’t as shocked as you might expect because…well, at Langley…”
“Aye, Langley.”
Nell risked a fleeting glance upward and almost quailed at the sternness in his face. “A girl could hardly remain ignorant there,” she said.
“But knowledge is not experience. You were innocent. Hell’s teeth!” Releasing her, he turned away, raking a hand through his hair. “Everything pointed to you being—”
“What you thought me.”
He wheeled about and w
rapped his hands around her arms. “You never denied it,” he accused, giving her a little shake. “From the moment in the stable when I asked the whereabouts of your lover, you didn’t deny there was one. Damn it, Nell, that first night on the road you taunted me with your supposed lovers. And then there was the hyssop. I thought… God, at that point I didn’t know what I was thinking, but when I discovered your knowledge of the herb any uncertainty about your past was gone, even though you’d never used it. Why else would you need such knowledge, I thought.”
“How do you know of the herb?” she asked abruptly.
His eyes went hard. “My mother used it. I was very young but I can remember her taking it, the odor of it. Eventually it killed her.”
Nell’s breath caught in her throat. How was she ever going to overcome so much distrust and bitterness learned at such a young age? The immensity of the task overwhelmed her.
Then she remembered that she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Rafe would be gone after he delivered her to her father.
“And what was I seeing that night in your uncle’s hall?” he went on. “What did I hear?”
She sighed, the sound soft and a little sad. “A lie. A lie I acted out from the night the King tried—” She broke off and shook her head. “’Twas the only way I could protect myself. It worked but ’twas becoming harder. I had to watch, all the time. Never to be alone with a man, but to bestow a smile here, a few words there. Even a kiss if ’twould get rid of…” She faltered, letting the words fade away.
“What about the King?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth when you told me about the crucifix?”
“I tried,” she retorted, her chin coming up. “You wouldn’t let me finish.”
He smiled slightly in wry acknowledgement. “Your dislike and contempt for Edward were so great I thought ’twas because he must have forced you to trade your virtue in exchange for your mother’s crucifix. I couldn’t listen to the rest. If I had I would—” He gave a short laugh and shrugged. “I don’t know. Throttled him, mayhap.”
