Her fingers, which had stayed on his shoulders until now, began to move. Darts of pleasure shot through him as her hands skimmed over his bare chest. Here and there his damaged skin burned under her touch, but it was exquisite torture.
He slowly lowered her, so that she was lying on the bed of straw and he was braced above her. She was so tiny and he was so huge, he didn’t want to squash her, but she pulled him down so that most of his weight was on her delicate curves. Everywhere their bodies touched his skin came to life, demanding more.
Her hands were more confident now, skimming over his back and sides. He tugged her garment off one slender shoulder. She gasped as he kissed his way down the sensitive skin of her neck and along her collarbone.
His fingers found her breasts through the material of her gown, the nipples pebbling at his touch. He pulled the sleeve down until one was exposed to the air. It was small and perfect in his hand. She arched against him.
Raising himself up onto one elbow, he tugged the other sleeve down until both breasts were exposed to him.
He lifted his head. Her eyes were glazed now, her lips so red. Her breasts were the same creamy, pale skin as the rest of her body, her nipples pink and hard. He bent to take one in his mouth and she cried out.
He poured all the days of longing and lust for her into his actions and she writhed beneath him, causing the tightness in his body to harden further. He was moments from spending himself and they had barely begun.
Only her thin clothing and his blanket separated their bodies. He wanted to pull the clothes from her, to have all of her skin against his, but he knew that his tenuous grip on his self-control would disappear completely if he did that.
He wanted more than anything to hear her gasps of pleasure as he took her again and again. But he knew, even as his mouth worshipped her, even as all sense appeared to be deserting him, that it would be wrong. He had no doubt that it would be the most exquisite pleasure he had ever had. The way she responded to him, the way his body responded to hers, the way she made him forget the world around them, suggested that it would be unlike any other joining he’d ever experienced. Guilt would consume him afterwards for taking something only her husband should have. She would hate him and that would kill him.
Summoning all his strength, he lifted his head and gazed down at her.
She was breathing quickly, her chest rising and falling in rapid gasps. Her eyes filled with the desire he was sure was reflected in his. He wanted nothing more than to return his mouth to hers, but he stayed still.
He watched as an awareness of the world came back into her expression. Her gaze cleared and her breathing slowed, her lips forming a perfect circle as she whispered, ‘Oh.’
He smiled down at her, but he still didn’t move. He knew he should cover her up, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had used up all his willpower in stopping, but he didn’t want to hide away her perfect body. He would never see it again and he wanted to burn the image of every contour into his brain.
‘I...’ she whispered.
He nodded, understanding what she could not put into words.
Her hands skimmed over his back as she brought them back to herself, setting off delicious tingles all down his spine. She blinked and it seemed to dawn on her that she was bare to him. Her hands scrabbled at her top, pulling the material up and covering herself.
‘I... What...?’
Her confusion was adorable, lovable even.
He wanted to convey to her just what she’d made him feel, but the words were stuck in his throat.
He gazed down at her, waiting for the right thing to say to come into his head.
‘Avva.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Avva,’ he said again. A small smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. He touched it lightly with his fingertip. ‘Avva, I have no words.’
‘I know.’
He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. ‘I’ve never met anyone, who...’ He paused. ‘I’ve never felt...’
‘You don’t have to say anything.’
‘But I want you to understand. This, it’s not normal for me. You are special, but I can’t...my parents...the barony...’ It was as if someone had scrambled his brain. None of the words he wanted to say were coming out. He wanted to tell her how this was the closest he’d ever come to caring for someone, that, if he allowed himself to love, then he would love her, to explain why the emotion was so impossible for him. Before he could get his thoughts in order she spoke.
‘I haven’t asked.’ His head whipped up at her tone.
The desire in her eyes had been replaced with something else entirely. The look she gave him was cold and hard, she pushed against his chest. He pulled himself upright, a strange uncomfortable sensation blooming around his heart.
‘You’re a nobleman. I am a peasant. I know that you are not going to marry me. You do not need to explain.’
Every word felt like the swipe of a blade. This wasn’t what he’d meant at all. Marriage had been the last thing on his mind. That rational transaction had no place in the heat of this moment.
‘Avva, I...’ But she was pulling away from him, threading her arms through her tunic. ‘Avva, don’t leave like this. Talk to me.’
‘There is nothing to say. I will see if there is anything else I can find out for you. Good day, Sir William.’
With that, she swung her legs over the edge of the loft and dropped to the ground.
William watched her go, an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness washing over him. He should go after her, but really, what was there to say? There would be no marriage between them. His plan was still to marry into a wealthy family. Nothing had changed, but the pain in his chest was not down to the injuries he had sustained. He leaned back against the wall of the loft, the rough wooden slats biting into his skin. The irritation helped him focus. He was here to complete a mission and he needed to get on with it, not moon over a beautiful woman.
He was torn. At first, riding to Chepstow had seemed like the obvious answer to his current predicament. Once there, he could find out exactly what Caerden was doing with his band of soldiers and then make haste to the King’s Knights rendezvous. Now that there was no way to communicate with James, this seemed like the most sensible option. His fellow knights wouldn’t hesitate to act once he had told them about everything that had happened since his arrival in Caerden...well, perhaps not everything.
He would not tell anyone about his foolish attraction to someone so entirely unsuitable for him. He would not tell of the joy he had experienced when he had kissed her or the pain he was now feeling as he’d come to his senses and realised he could not have her.
He was not the sort of man who took a wife and a mistress, and a mistress was all Avva could ever be to him. She did not have the wealth he needed to restore the Devereux barony and he couldn’t marry without it. He shook his head in exasperation. Why on earth was he thinking of marriage and Avva in the same sentence? His attraction to Avva was unusually intense, but it wasn’t as if it would compel him to offer for her. He was not in love with her. This was lust, pure and simple. It would fade. He was not his parents.
William closed his eyes. His thoughts were straying away from his mission once more. He needed to focus. After some reflection, he wasn’t sure that the best course of action was haring off to Chepstow. Perhaps it would be better to stay here for another day and see what he could find out before he left for Chepstow. Thomas didn’t strike him as a particularly strong man. He would probably break after some forcefully applied pressure.
All of these ponderings were moot if he were unable to move very far. His muscles hadn’t objected to movement when he’d been kissing Avva, but he had been quite spectacularly distracted.
It was time to put his body to the test. He pushed himself into a crouch. His chest burned, protesting vigorously at the movement. It was impossible
to stand to full height in the cramped loft, but he did his best, stretching his muscles as far as they could go. Everything hurt, but it was manageable. He could get on a horse, if he absolutely had to.
He curled his hand around the handle of his dagger and tightened his grip. Pain burned along the cut on his biceps and his ribs throbbed, but he’d had worse in the past and managed to carry on. He wouldn’t be at his fighting best, but he would still be better than most.
Chapter Twelve
Avva leaned against the tower wall. She loved this spot, so far away from the bustle of castle life. It was peaceful even when there were guards up here, too. This high up the cool spring breeze was bitingly cold. She blew into her cupped hands, trying to warm her fingers. She should climb back down and return to the stables. She’d been neglecting her duties for most of the afternoon, but William would still be there and she was not sure she was ready to see him again so soon after what had transpired between them.
She’d known he was a nobleman. She’d known that he would only want to dally with her and not offer her any kind of future. Yet she had still succumbed to his kisses. No, that wasn’t quite right. It made it sound as if William had forced himself on her, and he hadn’t.
It had been she who had touched him first. She could pretend that it had been to make a point about how badly damaged his skin was, but the truth was she’d ached to know what his body felt like under her caress. The muscles in his arms held an almost overwhelming fascination for her. She’d wanted to know whether they were as hard as they looked to the touch or whether they were soft. The answer was a mixture of both. The smooth skin had given way to a delicious hardness. She’d been unable to stop her fingertips from skimming over the curve of his arm and along the ridge of his shoulders.
She’d brought herself so close to his face. She wanted to lean across and brush her lips to his battered cheekbone, but shyness had frozen her. She couldn’t have pulled away for all the wealth in the kingdom. The soft kiss at the corner of her mouth should have been a warning, not an invitation. Yet, even though he had given her plenty of time to think, she still hadn’t pulled away, not even when he’d pressed his lips to hers.
In that instant, need had flooded through her, heating her blood and sweeping away all rational thought.
She had wanted his mouth on every part of her body, to explore the newly awakened sensations running through her. In the cool breeze of the afternoon, it shocked her to remember how far they had gone and to know that she would have gone further still. It was only William coming to his senses that reminded her of everything she held dear.
She was the result of misspent lust, of a nobleman abandoning her mother once he had finished with her. She wouldn’t wish any child of her own growing up knowing that they were unwanted by their father. Even her stepfather, who hadn’t cared for her or Aven, had wanted his own children.
All her life, she had sworn not to make the same mistakes as her mother. One touch of William’s lips against hers and the promises she had made herself were swept away. She touched her neck—her pulse pounded beneath her fingertips at only the memory of what had passed between them, the way his lips had moved across her body, his beard tickling her sensitive skin, causing exquisite tingles to course through her. And when his mouth had reached her breast, she’d been lost to the sensation. That she would have lain with him at that moment should frighten her. An unwanted babe would be a disaster. And yet...the thought of carrying a piece of him after they had parted didn’t seem so terrible after all.
She closed her eyes. She mustn’t think like this. This way was wild, uncharted territory. It went against everything she believed in. She pressed a hand to her belly, unable to stop the idea of a baby growing in there, someone for her to love. Someone who would love her... No. She pushed the thought away. A child out of wedlock would only add to her problems, not solve them.
William would make a good father. It just wouldn’t be to her children.
She pressed her palms to her face as a lump rose in her throat. Crying never solved anything and she was not about to give in to tears right now. Not now, when there was nothing to cry about. William had defied her expectations of nobility, he’d been honourable, kind and thoughtful. She could see that he was a good man. He cared deeply about his mission and the oaths he had taken. He would not take advantage of his position and hurt those beneath him. He was not like Caerden. That did not mean she should become his lover, no matter how much she might enjoy his caresses. But she could be his friend.
Right now, he needed her help and she could give that to him.
She pushed herself away from the wall. Mind made up, she would return to the stable and help him in whatever way, even if it meant aiding him in his journey to Chepstow. Having seen his bruised and battered body up close, she didn’t believe he was capable of riding anywhere, not without assistance.
She reached the spiral staircase and stopped. Far in the distance, she could make out two riders heading towards the town at speed.
Her heart in her throat, she watched as the pair came closer. The riders were distinctive, her fears were confirmed. Caerden and Barwen were returning. She turned on her heel and ran.
There was still no sound of the approaching horses by the time she made it to the stables, her lungs burning with the effort she’d made to arrive quickly. She rushed over to the ladder and climbed up.
William was in the process of pulling on clothes. He did not look comfortable.
‘What is it?’ he asked before she could offer to help.
‘Barwen and Caerden are on their way back here.’
His eyes widened. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I saw them from the tower. They will be here very shortly.’
He thrust his arm through the sleeve of his tunic. ‘This changes things.’
‘I know. I...’ but she didn’t get any further. The sound of pounding hooves on cobblestone reached them. Avva hurried down the ladder and picked up her sweeping brush, quickly unbolted the door into Pebbles’s stall and managed to lock herself in before Caerden and Barwen rode in.
Caerden jumped down from his horse and strode towards her. She couldn’t help but cower backwards at his approach, cursing herself for this show of weakness. ‘You, lad.’ He glowered at her over the door to the stall. ‘Where is that knight’s horse?’ Avva’s heart began to pound—she couldn’t bear it if Caerden did anything to hurt Eirwen. ‘Well, lad?’
Avva was annoyed to see that her hand was shaking as she held it up to point. ‘At the end of the stables, my lord.’
She held her breath, her heart pounding painfully as the two men went to the end of the stables to take a look, but, to her relief, they did not open Eirwen’s stall.
Caerden strode back to her. ‘Has the knight been to check on his horse since he got here?’
‘Not for the last two days,’ she answered truthfully, holding Caerden’s gaze.
‘Do you believe the lad?’ asked Barwen, coming to stand next to Caerden and glaring across at her. ‘It’s been reported that Ave here has been seen walking around the castle with Sir William. Perhaps the two of them are friends.’
Avva swallowed, her knees trembling. ‘Sir William asked me to show him some of the castle, my lord.’
‘That is Steward Thomas’s job,’ barked Barwen.
Avva nodded quickly, keeping her eyes on Caerden, hoping that some of Aven’s kindness resided in her half-brother, although she’d never had reason to believe it before. ‘Aye, it is. Sir William thought that Thomas might find it beneath him to show him the kitchens and the scullery and requested I show him. I thought it best to help one of your guests, my lord. Did I do the wrong thing?’
Caerden studied her for a long moment. Avva’s pulse pounded. She hoped William would stay where he was and not leap down to her rescue. Caerden and Barwen were only trying to intimidate her at the moment
, but if there was even the slightest altercation it was unlikely it would end well for her.
Caerden stepped closer to the door. Avva forced herself to stand still and not skitter backwards. ‘Aven, you and I have known each other for a long time.’ Avva nodded. ‘I like to think that, despite our obvious differences, you are loyal to me.’ Avva nodded again. It was unusual for Caerden to acknowledge their shared parentage, but he did now and then to assert his hold on her. She loathed it. Just as she loathed that his dark hair reminded her so forcefully of Aven—the three of them shared their father’s distinctive locks.
‘I am pleased you agree.’ Caerden smiled in a gesture that did nothing to light up his eyes. Avva held herself upright, even as a chill raced down her spine. ‘If you see Sir William, I want you to come straight to me. If you cannot find me, report your sighting to Barwen or Thomas. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Are you sure you can trust him, Caerden?’ asked Barwen, his eyes glittering with malevolence.
Caerden stared at her for a long moment. ‘Yes. I am sure. Aven is very protective of his brothers, aren’t you, Aven?’
Avva’s stomach roiled at the unspoken threat to David and Dylan’s safety. ‘Yes, my lord, I care for my brothers deeply.’
Caerden smiled—this time his eyes did light up. His visage wasn’t improved by the emotion. Avva wondered if perhaps Caerden thought she meant him when she referred to her brothers. He was arrogant enough to believe it, despite the fact that it couldn’t be further from the truth to say that she cared for him. She despised him. ‘See, I told you, Barwen. We can trust Aven to do the right thing. Come, we must plan our next move.’
Caerden moved briskly out of the stables, Aven seemingly already forgotten. Barwen spared her a final glare before following the Baron.
Avva quickly removed the saddles from their horses and led them into empty stalls. She was desperate to see what William had made of Barwen and Caerden’s discussion, but if either of the men returned and found that she had not dealt with their mounts, it would raise suspicion.
The Knight's Maiden in Disguise Page 14
