Avva wished she wasn’t looking straight into his eyes. She’d have stood a better chance of hiding her reaction from him. She could not stop the heat flooding her face as she remembered exactly what they had been doing in the hidden alcove, the way his mouth had moved over hers.
It hadn’t been her first kiss.
That had been with an apprentice stable boy who’d been taken on at the castle stables at the same time as Aven. She’d believed herself in love with him, but it turned out it was his stories about the horses he worked with that had captured her attention. He’d kissed her a few times, but it had fizzled out and he’d married the baker’s daughter.
Avva understood why now.
William’s touch had lit something inside her, something she hadn’t realised was missing. Something she wanted to feel again. But not now and not with this man, even if his lips were tantalisingly close to hers.
‘I’ll see what I can find out for you.’ She pushed herself away from him, her heels scrabbling across the floor to get her to the edge of the loft faster.
‘Avva...’
She paused, her legs dangling over the edge.
‘Be careful.’
She nodded, before jumping to the ground.
As she made her way out of the stables, she couldn’t help but feel that he’d been about to say something else. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to know what.
Chapter Eleven
William awoke with a jolt, his hand automatically reaching for his sword. He frowned as his weapon wasn’t where he expected it to be. It took a moment for him to get his bearings. He was in Avva’s loft and he must have fallen asleep again after she’d left. He hoped he had not slept away another day.
Below him came a noise, the heavy clomp of feet on the wooden ground, definitely not Avva’s footsteps. Then came the frightened whinny of a horse and some muffled cursing—he’d recognise that distinctive baritone anywhere. Barwen Montford was back. How William loathed that man for his casual cruelty. He was another one on William’s growing list who would experience his wrath before this mission was over.
‘There you are. Saddle this horse up.’
‘Bluebell, sir?’ came Avva’s softly spoken response.
‘That’s what I said.’
William didn’t hear a response, but he assumed Barwen taking Bluebell was unusual. As quietly as he could, he leaned across to his clothes and pulled his dagger from its sheath. A single sign that Avva was being mistreated and he would gut the man like a pig, the subtle uncovering of a treasonous plot be damned.
He strained to listen, but the only sound he could hear was the creak of leather as a saddle was attached to a horse and the pacing of the heavy boots. Although he couldn’t see anything, William assumed Barwen was moving impatiently up and down the length of the stable.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, he heard a horse being led out of its stall and towards the entrance.
‘Bluebell is highly strung, sir.’ Avva’s voice was strained. It probably cost her dearly to speak out to such a man. William couldn’t help but admire her bravery at confronting Barwen. She obviously valued the comfort of her horses over her own safety.
‘Don’t tell me how to ride a horse, lad.’
‘Ah, there you are.’ William shuddered as Thomas joined the group. There was something about the man’s voice that sent shivers down his spine. It wasn’t that he was physically threatening, more like he was a cold, creeping fog that would swallow you whole if you didn’t protect yourself. ‘What will you tell Caerden about the knight?’ Thomas sounded worried, which he should do. After all, William was alive and mostly well. The same could not be said for the men who attacked him.
‘I will tell him the truth, Thomas.’
‘But no one has seen the knight since I sent the men after him. He has not returned to the tavern or been seen in the town.’
‘Neither have the men.’
‘They were your men I sent after him, Barwen. Don’t forget to tell Caerden that.’
‘You should have seen to him yourself. You had plenty of opportunity. I understand the knight spent all afternoon with you. If I had been here, he would not have walked away from that encounter.’
William rolled his eyes. Barwen might be a fighter, but he was no match for William.
Thomas cleared his throat, clearly not pleased with the direction of the conversation. ‘I could not have killed him, I do not have the same training as you.’
‘That is true.’ William could hear the disdain in Barwen’s voice.
‘Do you think not knowing the knight’s whereabouts will change the plan?’
‘The plan will need to be changed. I don’t think Caerden will thank you for that. The objective is the same.’
Thomas inhaled deeply. ‘Good.’
‘We will go down in history.’
Thomas laughed. ‘Caerden’s name will go down in history. You and I will be forgotten, don’t think otherwise. We will reap the rewards in his lifetime and that is enough for me.’
Barwen growled. ‘You’re a fool, who only thinks with his belly. This is a momentous occasion for all of us. Our names will go down in history because of the influence we will hold. The possibilities are endless.’ Barwen made another sound of disgust. ‘Return to your feasting, Thomas, and let the real men do the work.’
‘If that is all you think I do...’
‘It is not what I think, it is what is true. I don’t profess to understand it, but you are useful to Caerden. Although how he will react to this latest foul up, I don’t know.’
There was the sound of shuffling feet and then leather creaking again.
William strained to hear if Barwen or Thomas said or did anything to Avva. He wouldn’t be able to restrain himself if either of the bastards laid their hands on her again. He heard nothing—it was as if the two men had forgotten her presence. It was entirely possible, the stable master would mean nothing to them. No more was said and presently hoofbeats moved away from the stable door. The heavy plod of footsteps suggested Thomas was leaving, too. William waited until he was sure he could no longer hear anyone in the stable below before he pushed himself up onto his knees, the simple movement causing him more pain than he wanted to admit. He shuffled over to the edge of the loft and peered down to the ground.
Avva was standing with her back to him, her hands on her hips, obviously watching the departing rider. William’s heart contracted. She looked so vulnerable and alone. He wanted to do something to make sure she was always protected, but he didn’t know how he could achieve that.
He could find a position for her in his parents’ household, but that would only cause future problems. He wouldn’t be unfaithful to his wife and having Avva nearby, when William inherited the barony from his father, would be too much of a temptation. He would also have to see her married to someone else—a beauty like Avva would not remain unwed for long. No, it would not do. The jealousy would consume him. He would have to find a way to walk away from her, knowing that it was someone else’s job to keep her safe. He closed his eyes tightly—enough of this.
‘Where do you think he’s going?’
Avva jumped, clutching a hand to her chest.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
She turned, stepping into the stables as she did so. William experienced the same punch to the gut as he always did whenever he caught sight of her face.
‘I’m coming up. Are you decent?’
William glanced down at his naked body. ‘You probably wouldn’t think so.’
‘Then cover yourself up, before I get up there.’
William smiled and moved back to his corner of the loft, draping the blanket over his midriff.
Avva’s head appeared over the lip of the loft, frowning as she caught sight of him. ‘I thought you were going to co
ver up.’
He nodded to the blanket, fighting a smile at her indignant expression. ‘I have.’
‘Not all of you.’ She waved a hand in the general direction of his chest.
He’d be damned if he covered up that part of him. He’d seen the way she looked at him earlier—it had given him a strange sort of hope that this ridiculous infatuation he was experiencing wasn’t completely one-sided. Not that he could do anything about it, but it didn’t seem fair that only he should be suffering from this overwhelming desire.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a man’s chest before.’ He shouldn’t tease her, but he couldn’t help himself. Watching the colour spread across her cheeks as she climbed into the loft gave him more pleasure than he’d care to admit to anyone.
‘Of course I have,’ she said frostily. ‘I’ve just never seen one so...’
‘So?’ He was a bastard for teasing her, but this was the most enjoyment he’d had since he’d kissed her.
‘You know exactly what I mean.’
He didn’t, but he hoped it was complimentary and she wasn’t repelled by the heavily bruised skin. Feeling slightly less confident, he pulled the blanket up a little way. She pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything further.
‘I don’t know where he’s going.’
‘Who?’ His muddled mind had no idea what she was talking about.
‘Barwen. You asked me where he was going and I don’t know.’
Dear God, what was wrong with him? He was so wrapped up in showing Avva his bare torso he wasn’t concentrating on his mission. He was letting Theo down and, at the rate he was going, Benedictus, the King’s Knights leader, was going to throw him out of the order before he’d even completed his first solo mission. This had to stop. Right now.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
‘What is Barwen’s role exactly? I was introduced to him as someone who was a key figure, but it was not explained exactly how.’
Avva shrugged. ‘Barwen is the head of the guards, but Thomas is lazy, remember. Barwen does a lot of his dirty work so that either Thomas or Caerden don’t have to. Barwen delights in torturing people.’ She shuddered.
William leaned back against the wall. This was so frustrating. If only there had been the slightest suspicion that something was off in this district before he’d set out on this journey, he’d have brought a team of men with him and not just James. He’d been too hasty in sending his squire away, too. If he hadn’t, James could be following Barwen right now and William would never have lost that fight. Instead, he was stuck in a loft, lusting over a girl who was pretending to be a man and essentially failing at what should be a simple mission.
He needed to get back on the right course. Even if it killed him, he had to get out of the loft and get moving.
‘Did you find out anything?’ he asked, deciding that the best course of action from now on was to look at her as infrequently as possible. It was the sight of her that seemed to addle his brain.
‘I found out a little.’ No, it turned out the sound of her voice also got to him, damn it. ‘There’s no training operation at the coast. Messages are coming and going to Chepstow, to the east of here.
‘Chepstow. Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not from Caernarfon Castle?’
‘No, definitely not. John’s brother is one of the messengers. He stopped to speak to John before leaving again.’
‘You’ve mentioned John before. Who is he and can you trust him?’ William tried to ignore the sudden stab of jealousy. He must remember that he would be leaving here soon. Who Avva spoke to or married in the future should be no concern of his. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, marry her, so why did his insides feel so twisted?
‘John is the castle carpenter. He is as close to a friend as I have in this castle. I trust him with this information.’
Relief flooded through William’s veins, relaxing muscles he hadn’t realised were tense. He remembered the carpenter from Avva’s tour of the castle. He was an old man, who regarded Avva with an avuncular affection. Theirs was not a romance.
‘Do you trust him completely?’
‘I don’t trust him with my life, but then there is nobody I trust with that.’
William’s heart clenched. For a brief moment he wanted to be the one she depended on, but he knew such wishes were impossible.
‘And, no, I don’t know what the message was, before you ask.’
He nodded. ‘You couldn’t ask without drawing suspicion. I don’t want you caught up in whatever this is. It’s not safe. How far is Chepstow from here?’
‘About a day’s hard ride, possibly more. Wait...what are you doing?’
‘I need to get to Chepstow. I have to know what’s going on. The life of the King depends on it.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘You heard him talking about the plan. What do you think that was about? No, I must go.’
‘You can’t go. You’re...well...look at you.’ She gestured to his chest again.
William felt heat spread across his face. She hadn’t been looking longingly at his chest after all. She’d been disgusted by the bruises that littered his body. He was a hapless fool who deserved to fail at this mission. It would serve him right if he was thrown out of the King’s Knights and the King denied him his petition.
‘I cannot lie here, doing nothing, because of a few bruises,’ he snapped, annoyance with himself coating his words.
He reached across to his shirt. It had dried, but the fabric was stiff and unyielding. He lifted his arms to pull it over his head, but stopped when cool fingers brushed along his biceps.
‘Have you seen yourself?’
‘Huh?’ The soft touch had robbed him of proper words.
‘You’re battered. You nearly drowned.’
‘I’ve had worse.’ But he didn’t carry on pulling on his clothes, not while Avva was still touching his skin. He held still, expecting her to move away at any moment, but instead her fingers lightly traced the curve of the muscles in his arm.
‘Your skin is torn here.’ She lightly pressed down. ‘Does it sting?’
It hadn’t until she’d prodded it, but he would keep that to himself. Anything to keep her hands on him for as long as possible.
The hairs on the back of his neck tingled as her fingers moved to his shoulder. ‘There’s not a patch of your skin that is not covered in bruises.’ Her voice was soft and husky.
Slowly, so as not to spook her, he turned his head to face hers. She was close to him now, her blue eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. He leaned towards her, lightly brushing his lips to her soft cheek.
Her fingers flexed against his shoulder but she didn’t pull away. He moved along her jaw, pressing small kisses against her skin. A soft sigh escaped her, his body tightened in response. He brought his mouth to hers. For a long moment, he hovered above her, feeling her breath flutter over his skin. Then, so softly he was barely moving, he pressed his mouth against hers. He held his breath, holding himself still until her lips moved. Her tentative response sent sparks of lust straight to his groin.
He reached up to touch her face, his fingers trembling as they lightly caressed her cheek. He was completely undone. No other woman had ever made him feel this reverence. He couldn’t have pulled away if the King himself had ridden into the stable demanding attention.
His lips met hers again, a flicker of triumph racing through him as her mouth moved in a firmer response. He slid his arm around her waist and drew her nearer.
Her soft curves pressed against his body.
Their first kiss, behind the arras, had been all passion and fire—this one was as soft as a spring breeze, but no less powerful.
His fingers traced the length of her neck and along her collarbone, mapping her body, committing i
t to memory so that he could recall everything about her when she was no longer in his life.
Her fingers stole into his hair, her fingernails scraping against his scalp, and he groaned. The noise seemed to awaken something in her and she pushed against him more firmly. His ribs protested at the movement, but he ignored the pain and then he forgot about it completely as her mouth opened to him. He swept his tongue inside, the first taste of her so delicious it weakened his knees.
Their breaths were coming in pants now. There was nothing for him but the weight of her in his arms and the way her mouth moved beneath his. He wanted this moment to never end and yet, even as his hand traced the outline of her spine, he knew he should stop.
He could offer her nothing and so he should take nothing from her.
‘Avva,’ he murmured against her lips.
Her response was an incoherent mumble and he smiled.
Gradually, he slowed the kiss until it was the gentle touch of lips against lips again. His body roared at him to take things further, to lie down next to her and forget the world around them, but he battled to get the urge under control. He gently loosened his grip on her and brought both of his hands to her face, cupping her soft skin in his calloused palms.
‘Avva,’ he said again, slightly louder this time.
He lifted his head and gazed down at her. Her pupils were huge, her soft lips parted. She blinked. ‘Oh,’ she said softly.
‘Oh,’ he agreed, his voice sounding gravelly even to his own ears.
Avva licked her top lip with the tip of her tongue and he couldn’t help himself.
He lowered his head and kissed her again. She responded instantly, her tongue dancing with his, her soft moans urging him on.
All reason and logic deserted him. He forgot why they shouldn’t do this. His shaking hands grasped the ties of her tunic, tugging it loose. She helped him pull it from her body, seeming as eager as he to be closer. He traced her delicate curves under the thin woollen garments she wore. She was so thin, he could almost count her ribs. A part of his mind cursed Caerden for allowing her to get like this, but then he forgot everything again.
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