Ah. Mayhap he was not such a damned fool after all. “Will you truly give me such luxuries?”
Smiling, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. “I will.”
She sighed into his mouth, for his kisses were as seductive as his words had been. His lips demanded, claimed, and she leaned toward him, taking all that he offered.
Drawing back, he whispered, “I love you.”
She froze, her breath jammed like a lump of stone in her throat. He loved her? Many of her lovers through the years had said those very same words, but they were acknowledgment of infatuation, naught more. She wasn’t the kind of woman men loved.
Braden was jesting; he had to be. Tittering, she said, “Of course you—”
“I do.”
“You—?”
“Love you,” he repeated, his expression solemn. “You know ’tis true, aye?”
Astonishment and pleasure rippled through her, weaving their way into her heart that had shattered, shriveled, and died after Geoffrey de Lanceau’s rejection. Loving and losing de Lanceau had hurt beyond measure; she’d vowed never to love again. She would not allow such vulnerability, for that weakness had almost destroyed her. Instead, she’d manipulate, use, take what she wanted and needed from men, but never offer her heart.
With Braden’s admission of love, though, part of her swiftly answered; part of her acknowledged that, of all unexpected and unwanted occurrences, she just might love him, too.
She dropped the washcloth; her mind reeling with shock, she watched the linen slowly submerge beneath the cloudy water. How had she allowed herself to fall in love? When had she become so weak?
“You seem surprised,” Braden said with a wry laugh.
Veronique swallowed, grappling with emotions she couldn’t control. Hellfire . She didn’t like being unsettled. “I—”
“We are well matched, you and I. Together, we will be truly formidable. We will be the subject of many chansons sung with both awe and fear throughout England.”
What a tantalizing prospect. However—
“Do you not want to stand at my side, Love? To be my wife?”
His wife . He wanted to marry her. Suspicion crowded into her stunned mind. Did he really care for her, or did he want to wed her in order to have more influence over Tye? Braden was a clever, cunning man who craved power. She might just be part of a devious plot—
He sighed. Clenching both hands on the side of the tub, he rose, bringing his splendid, aroused nakedness into her full view.
Unable to tear her gaze from his impressive manhood so close to her face, she moistened her lips. “Braden—”
“My love is true, Veronique.” He reached down into the tub, hauled her to her feet, and lifted her into his arms.
Water dripped from her wet hair and body onto the planks. In the cool chamber air, goose bumps rose on her flesh. “What are you—?”
“I will prove that I love you,” he growled against her mouth. “Over and over and over again, until you agree to marry me.”
A lusty cackle broke from her. “You can try.”
“Oh, I will.” He strode to the bed, dropped her onto the mattress, and crawled on top of her, parting her legs with his knees.
Her hair a tangled, sopping mass beneath her on the sheets, she squinted up at him. “You are far too brazen. I do not love you. I will never —”
“Never?” His face taut with desire, he plunged into her, then stopped, holding perfectly still, making her gasp, squirm, and moan in frustration. As she cursed and dug her fingernails into his bulging arms, his lips drew back in a rough laugh. “You should know better than to challenge me. I aim to win.”
Chapter Fifteen
Looking out her window at the cloudless afternoon sky, Claire startled when brisk raps sounded on her chamber door. She hesitated, her fingers curling on the stone window sill, while she decided whether or not to acknowledge the knocks. Tye was likely outside her door, and she was too tired after a mostly sleepless night for another confrontation with him. Moreover, she still didn’t understand how he made her feel the way she did: unsettled; hot and prickly all over; and eager for another kiss. ’Twas utterly shameful that she should feel such things—
Her chamber door opened.
Claire gasped, for she hadn’t yet answered. Thankfully she hadn’t been in the midst of changing garments or writing in the journal. Turning from the window, she clasped her hands together in front of her.
Tye strode through the doorway, his mantle drifting at the calves of his knee-high boots that bore wet stains. His hair, tied back as usual with a thin strip of leather, appeared windblown.
She tried to cling to her outrage, but the sight of him so undeniably handsome brought a rush of admiration weaving through her. He didn’t look like a lowborn thug; he resembled a lord who ruled a vast, prosperous estate. A man who, as he’d told her before, took what he wanted and did as he pleased. That obviously included walking without permission into ladies’ private chambers.
“Good afternoon, milady.”
Even his voice affected her. She quivered inside, as if she were a harp string that he’d plucked with his fingers. “Good afternoon,” she said, her tone cool yet polite.
“You were enjoying the sun, I see. ’Tis warmer outside than earlier today.”
“Good.” That meant the snow would melt and de Lanceau would be able to move in his army and oust Tye and his mercenaries. Once again, she’d have her freedoms and at last, she’d be able to travel to her aunt’s and start her new life.
“You seem pleased,” Tye noted.
Claire managed a careless shrug; she certainly wasn’t going to share her thoughts with him. “I do not like the cold.”
“Nor do I, truth be told. I much prefer the milder spring days. When the trees are in blossom and the fields are green again, the days somehow hold so much more—”
“Promise,” she finished for him.
“Exactly.”
They both smiled. A companionable silence settled.
Mercy , but she shouldn’t feel at ease around him. They might both enjoy the beauty of spring, but she was his prisoner. She drew upon the outrage that had simmered within her moments ago and said, “I am guessing you have a reason for walking into my chamber without waiting for my permission to enter? A reason that has naught to do with the weather?”
The mirth faded from his eyes. “You guess correctly. Did I offend you, entering as I did?”
“’Tis an accepted courtesy that a man waits for a lady’s acknowledgment before entering her private room. She might be dressing, or bathing, or…otherwise indisposed.”
“What if you did not hear me for some reason, such as a loud noise outside? Should I have continued to knock? Or should I have realized that you were indisposed?”
A fair question. Tye didn’t appear to be teasing her; he seemed genuinely intrigued by the nuances of chivalry. “Normally, you would wait outside and keep knocking until you got acknowledgement from me. If I didn’t answer, you would come back later. Of course, if I were gravely ill, and under the effects of a healing potion, I might not hear your knock and therefore would not be able to reply. In that instance—my being ill—’twould be all right to enter my chamber without waiting for permission.”
“’Tis good to know,” Tye said.
“Our current situation, however, is a little different than usual,” she conceded. “While I may be a lady, I am also a hostage. The rules of propriety are undoubtedly different.”
He grinned. “Undoubtedly.”
His roguish grin softened his features. She fought the unwelcome flutter of her belly. “Now that I have explained—”
“—in such an insightful manner,” Tye cut in, “I owe you an explanation. First, though, forgive me for not waiting for your response earlier. I will remember to be more gallant in the future. As gallant, that is, as a rogue like myself can possibly be.”
Was Tye teasing her now? She couldn’t be sure.
“My true purpose in coming to see you,” he went on, “was to ask if you would like a walk.”
“A walk?” Excitement raced through her. ’Twould be wonderful to enjoy some fresh air. Also, ’twould give her a chance to see how the rest of the castle folk were faring. “’Tis a most pleasant and welcome idea, milord.”
Astonishment glowed in his eyes. “You called me ‘milord.’”
“I did”
“It pleases me.”
She’d only done so to pacify him. Still, Claire fought a ridiculous tingle of delight. “We are both pleased then, because I am very glad you offered a walk.”
“At last something I have done pleases you.”
Longing threaded through his words. It suggested that her respect mattered to him, even though he championed himself and his ambitions above all else.
Discomfort trailed through her, and she averted her gaze, not quite knowing what to say next.
The silence lagged. She became intensely aware of his gaze as it traveled over her, from the squared neckline of her fitted emerald green wool gown to the hem decorated with a graceful pattern of flowers embroidered in silver thread, to match the embroidery at the ends of her sleeves. She’d laced on brown leather shoes with pointed toes, and when he saw them peeking out at her hemline, his mouth twitched and he dragged a hand over his mouth as though to hide a smile.
Claire set her hands on her hips. “What?”
He chuckled.
“Is my gown so amusing? I had thought it modest and well suited to a day alone in captivity.”
“What you are wearing is quite lovely.” His tone became a husky growl that conveyed his full appreciation of the perfectly fitting garment that had been designed by a tailor who’d traveled from London, and who had also made gowns for Lady Brackendale and Mary. “However,”—Tye gestured to her shoes—“two steps outside, and those dainty bits of leather will be ruined.”
“I will put on my boots. If I had known about the walk, I would have been sure to don them earlier.”
Despite the hint of frost in her tone, Tye’s roguish smile didn’t waver. “I am certain you would have, milady.”
For some reason, because of his smile, she was having trouble concentrating on what she must do. “’Tis still cold out, so I will also fetch my cloak.”
“A wise idea.”
“And my warmest gloves.”
“Mayhap a hat, also?” He shook his head. “I cannot remember ever being so involved in a woman’s dressing.”
Claire walked to her linen chest, opened the lid, and reached inside. “That is because you are usually busy with a woman’s un dressing.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she stilled. Holy Mother Mary . Had she really said that aloud? She should have stopped herself.
Tye’s laughter echoed. “Kitten, you know me so well.”
Oh, God . She’d never, ever intended to be so coy or speak so bluntly. The folded garments before her became a colorful blur, and she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for fortitude and wisdom. “I barely know you at all, milord. I do not know why I said those words.”
Opening her eyes again, she searched for her favorite fur-lined gloves. She didn’t dare look at Tye—couldn’t look at him—while she continued to wrestle with her embarrassment.
“I am not certain either why you said what you did,” he murmured, his voice akin to a purr. “Although, I can guess.”
Anxiety clutched at her. “Do not trouble yourself—”
“Were you thinking about me undressing one of my lovers?” His voice lowered to a seductive whisper. “My palms skimming over her gown. My fingers unfastening the ties down the side, one by one. My hands, drawing up her soft linen chemise—”
“Cease.” Claire fought the traitorous heat tingling over her skin, snatched up her gloves, and slammed the lid of her linen chest. “I was not thinking such sinful thoughts.”
Tye’s blazing gaze captured hers. “Mayhap, then, you were imagining—”
“I was not —”
“—me undressing you?”
Her mouth fell open on a gasp.
“Seducing you?”
“Goodness!” Claire whispered.
“ Taking you?”
Oh, dear God ! She would have dropped the gloves but managed to catch herself and bring her focus back to the conversation, disastrous though it might be.
“In your mind, you saw my palms skimming over your gown,” Tye rasped. “My fingers, unfastening the ties—”
“Nay.”
“—while my hands drew up the fine linen of your—”
“Enough!” She shook with a mortifying rush of need and forbidden longing. She must stop his taunting, as quickly as possible.
Lady Brackendale had been right to warn her last night; Claire mustn’t, for an instant, forget the truth of who Tye was. “Never would I imagine such a bawdy encounter between us,” she managed to say.
He winked, a gesture that told her he knew she was lying. “You were imagining other scandalous occurrences, then?”
She tamped down a frustrated cry. “How did our conversation get twisted onto such a path?”
“ I wasn’t the one who spoke of undressing.”
“I am sorry. I will not speak of it again.”
“Mayhap I will.”
She threw up her hands. He wasn’t going to relent. He was going to make her squirm, until…what? She fell to her knees in front of him and begged him to kiss her, touch her, undress her as he’d described, because she longed for his attention? How appalling, that she wasn’t completely horrified by the notion.
His smug smile hinted that he could read the emotions warring inside her, even though she’d never intended for them to be laid bare for his scrutiny.
With clumsy fingers, Claire put on her cloak. Then she shoved her hands into the gloves, stretching each hand wide to ensure the leather was correctly settled on her fingers.
Every silent moment was torture. He didn’t move closer, didn’t try to touch her, but watched her with his familiar, predatory stare.
“I will not bother with a hat,” she said, “so I am ready for my walk.”
“Not quite,” he murmured.
He was going to kiss her again ! He was going to demand it, in return for releasing her from her chamber.
She couldn’t allow that physical contact; one devastating kiss, and she’d be lost—
“Your boots.” He motioned to the floor beside her linen chest, where her knee-high leather boots waited.
“Oh. Thank you.” Claire snatched up her boots, sat on the edge of her bed, and removed her shoes.
“’Twas a curious look on your face,” Tye said, sounding amused. “What did you expect me to say just then?”
Claire held aside the thick folds of her cloak and gown so she could see her left foot and then shoved it into her boot. “’Tis not important.”
“Allow me to judge that for myself.”
Now he seemed annoyed. The last thing she wanted was to make him angry; he might change his mind about the walk, and she wanted it so very much. Tugging on the right boot, she said, “I thought you were going to set conditions on my leaving the chamber. Thankfully, I was wrong.”
“Conditions? Such as a kiss?”
“A-aye.” Her boots on, she rose, smoothing her cloak and gown back into place. Despite the calmness she’d managed to convey in her movements, her heart leapt and fluttered like a wounded sparrow. Her lips tingled, her flesh remembering how passionately he’d ravaged her mouth before, and knowing that he could easily do so again.
Finally meeting Tye’s stare, she found him smiling. Her breath hovered, suspended, as his hungry gaze settled on her mouth. “This day is not over yet, Kitten.”
She adjusted her gloves again to busy her hands. Was he planning to kiss her outside, mayhap in front of a bailey full of witnesses? What an unnerving thought. “True, the day is not over,” she said, “but that does not mean we will kiss.”
He looked ready to disagree with her. Instead, he spun on his heel and strode for the doorway. “If you want a walk, you will come now.”
Claire hurried after him.
He yanked the door open and gestured for her to go first. As she swept past, he said, “A warning, Claire. Try to escape me on this walk, and you will not like the consequences. Understand?”
“Aye.”
His strides brisk, Tye took her down the smoky corridor to the landing and the steps leading down into the great hall. As she descended the stairs, she quickly glanced about the large chamber spread out before her, hoping to see that the celebrating conquerors had indulged in too much food and drink the night before, and thus wouldn’t be as effective today at maintaining their hold on the keep. However, the room appeared to be maintained to its usual standard, the tables and benches scrubbed and a generous fire burning in the massive hearth. Dogs dozed on the hearth tiles. At the lord’s table on the raised dais, a maidservant spread out a fresh linen tablecloth. Apart from the armed men standing near the entrance to the forebuilding, keeping watch on the stairwell that led down to the bailey, the room looked as it did every other day she’d lived at Wode.
Tye nodded to the guards as he strode into the shadows of the forebuilding, Claire close behind. Torch smoke and a damp mustiness enveloped her as she descended the stairs, and then she was through the lower door and outside, into the brilliant sunshine.
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