by Rue Allyn
While she’d lived at the abbey, Mother Clement had tolerantly given her work befitting a lady.” Since she’d shown a talent for such tasks, Larkin had never been forced to acquire the calluses and chaffing common women suffered on their hands. She’d even had a precious pair of gloves to protect her hands when she drove the cart. “’Tis what comes of working like a peasant,” she remarked to herself. Would a peasant’s life be her fate?
Since she had little choice, she bit her lip against the stinging in her hands, but she could feel tears pooling in her eyes. Good thing she’d asked Alice to bring salve and bandages when she could spare a moment.
Washing her hair with her injured hands would be the worst part, so she set about doing that to get it done the sooner.
With her clean tresses hanging over the edge of the tub, Larkin dozed, soaking out the rest of her aches. She heard the door open. Soon she’d be warm and dry. Perhaps she could persuade Alice to provide some supper. Then she would find a place to sleep where Sir Kiss Me Quick Talon couldn’t disturb her rest.
Metal clanked on the floor just as the door opened again.
“Ah, Alice. My thanks for your thoughtfulness.” Talon’s dark rumble startled Larkin upright and water splashed out of the tub.
Alice coughed.
Larkin crossed her arms over her breasts. What is he doing here? How do I escape? She had to figure that out quickly, while Alice occupied Talon.
“A bath is just what I need most. I see you’ve brought something to tend my bruises.”
“Uh ...” Alice responded.
Uh, indeed. What do I do now? Larkin stood slowly, trying not to make any noise, and reached for the drying cloth.
“Why don’t you go and take your supper? I should be finished bathing by the time you are done.”
“I have already supped, sir. If ye’ve hurts from yer day’s labors, ’tis best I tend them.”
“Again, my thanks, but I prefer to bathe first.”
“As ye wish, sir. But perhaps ye’d allow me to warm the water. Not knowing when ye’d return, I had the tub set out some time ago. The water’s gone cold by now.”
Larkin heard soft steps scraping against the floor, but whose? Talon could be remarkably light-footed. She eased from the tub and wrapped the cloth around her.
“’Tis no need, Alice. I like a cool bath. In fact, with the fire going, that screen will keep in too much heat. All I need is clean water.”
“But I insist, Sir Talon. ’Tis not fitting ...”
Larkin snatched up her robe. Could she put it on wet as she was? She could just imagine trying to hold on to the drying cloth while forcing her arms into the robe one at a time. The material would soak through the instant it touched her sopping skin, then cling to every part of her.
“’Tis fitting if I say so. Now go and fetch someone to help me remove my boots.”
“Nay, sir, please,” Alice pleaded. “Let me help you. ’Twould take time for me to find someone, and yer bath would indeed be chilled then.”
“’Tis not a task for you, Alice.”
“I want to, Sir Talon. I’m so very grateful that ye proved the keep is not haunted. Ye’ve saved us all from the earl’s anger. Please.”
“Since it means so much to you.”
Larkin moved to the end of the screen nearest the open door and peered around the edge. Thank the Lord for Alice’s quick wits.
Seated on the bed, Talon had lifted one muscled leg. Alice bent over his foot, both hands wrapped around his muddy boot.
Larkin bit her lip. Because of her own desire for a bath, Alice served Talon as a squire. Still, she could hardly charge to Alice’s relief draped in sodden cloth.
The second boot fell to the floor.
“Thank you once more, Alice. Now, you’d better go before I offend your modesty.” Talon stood, turned his back to the cook, and began to lower his braes.
“’Tis nothing I’ve not seen afore, sir.” She cackled and moved toward the screen. “But ye’d better let me check the water. I fear I may have left the soap in the tub, and yer bath may be murky by now. Ye’ll want clean water brought.” Her gaze caught Larkin’s, and she made shooing motions with her hands.
Larkin ducked farther behind the screen.
“A bit of soap in the water won’t bother me, Alice. Now leave, before I embarrass us both.”
Alice turned as she reached the screen. “Aye, Sir Talon.”
Larkin scurried to the opposite end of the wooden barrier.
“I’ll be going now, sir.” The cook stepped toward the door. Then put a hand to her back. “Ooh.”
“Alice, what is the matter?” Concern tinged Talon’s deep tone.
“’Tis nothing, Sir Talon. Just me back.”
“Nonsense, you are in pain.”
Larkin heard a skidding footfall, and Alice gasped again. Quick steps told her that Talon had moved to Alice’s side. Was she truly hurt? Larkin peeked beyond the screen.
His bare shoulders and back blocked her view of Alice. A skimpy breechclout knotted about his hips did little to block her view of his lower torso and nothing to shield work-hardened thighs and strong calves from her sight.
“Here, let me help you.” He sounded genuinely concerned.
He placed an arm around the cook’s waist, and together they shuffled toward the door Alice had left open.
“Cleve!” Talon bellowed.
Taking a deep breath, Larkin scampered to the huge bed and hid in the folds of the velvet drapes.
“Ah, Cleve, escort Mistress Alice downstairs. She’s hurt her back. Make certain she’s comfortable, and ask someone in the kitchen to prepare a posset. Alice, you are to drink every drop.”
Larkin watched through a thin gap between the velvet and the bedpost, as Cleve took Alice from Talon.
“Nay, Sir Talon. Truly, ’twas only a twinge. ’Tis gone now. I’ll tend yer bath for ye.”
“You’ll do no such thing. If you injure yourself further, who will keep the pot boys out of trouble? I insist that you rest.”
“But ...”
“Now.” The steel beneath the silky empathy was unmistakable.
“I will see that Alice takes proper care of herself, sir.”
“Thank you, Cleve.”
“Ye’re welcome.”
“Cleve, when you’ve settled Mistress Alice, send some men to remove this screen. I’ll not need it.”
“Aye, Sir Talon.”
With that, Cleve ushered Larkin’s sole hope of rescue from the room. She looked on in tortured wonder as Talon folded the screen closed, lifted it aside, and placed it by the door. He turned back to the tub, directly in Larkin’s line of vision, and removed his loincloth.
Her throat went dry. Her entire body heated then chilled. Goose bumps raced over her skin, leaving a fire in her lower belly and unaccustomed tightness in her breasts.
He dipped a hand into the tub she’d so recently vacated, testing the water.
She began to tremble and closed her eyes, praying that he would not see the curtain shake. Two men came for the screen and left. She heard humming and a splash. When she opened her eyes, Talon sat, half hidden by the tub. It was too small for his large frame, and his knees showed wetly above the rim.
Fascinated, she watched as he lifted one long arm and lathered it with her precious, scented soap. Had she remained undiscovered so long just to be betrayed by a cake of soap? The humming became a song. His slightly off-key baritone stroked over her skin, and sensation tingled through her body and curled her toes. She bit her lip on a groan of frustration. Then the meaning of the words he sang became clear.
“… she bathed my staff with her mouth.”
Is that really what men like? Larkin’s gaze tried to penetrate the wood and water hiding that particular part of his body. How, she wondered, did a woman bathe a man’s staff with her mouth?
“Oh I her breasts did lap and suck she moaning pleas for more.”
Larkin looked down at her own body
, saw her pebbled nipples, and felt the extra dampness between her own thighs. Her face heated. She couldn’t be like the woman in his song, could she? The song continued, accompanied by vigorous splashing as he sang of suckings and fuckings and dyings and cryings. That song is positively indecent. Despite the chill from standing wet and naked for so long, Larkin broke into a sweat.
“Once more my sweet, please do you mind, I’ll give you treats, but from behind.”
Larkin’s mouth dropped open and her heart raced. He can’t mean what I think he means.
“She bent and spread, her nether mouth I fed with …”
What? She nearly shouted. What comes next? Desperate to know what had happened, she pushed the curtain farther from the post.
Talon had sunk his head below the water. All that showed was the gleam of his knees.
She’d just begun to think he would drown when he sprang upward, stood straight in the tub, and shook. Water sprayed from his hair and body.
She closed her eyes, then opened them again, unable to resist the lure of his gleaming skin and taut muscles. She would have much to confess to Father Timoras.
Talon grasped a dry cloth, covered his head, and rubbed as he shouted the end of the song. The cloth muffled his voice just enough that Larkin could not be certain what words he uttered. The action she thought he described seemed physically impossible to her, and no doubt Father Timoras would declare it to be sinful.
He tossed the towel aside and stepped from the tub, then strode straight toward the bed. Larkin froze. Had he somehow discovered her?
He stopped by a chest at the foot of the bed, opened it, and took out fresh clothing. He had his hose gartered and was stepping into his braes when a knock sounded at the door.
“Enter.” He fastened the braes and pulled on a tunic.
“Beg pardon, Sir Talon, but one of the stable boys discovered something odd. Ye might wish to take a look.”
“I’ll be down in a moment.” He sat and put on his boots, then stood, lifting his belt and scabbard and securing them about his hips.
In a trice, he was gone.
Larkin let out the breath she’d been holding, but did not move from her hiding place. He might have forgotten something and return or send someone else to retrieve it. She waited. Sure enough, the door opened.
Two men came in and removed the tub. When they’d gone, Larkin stepped out from hiding. She rubbed herself dry, put on her clothing, and, with wet hair dangling down her back, scurried to the kitchen to dry it before the fire while she ate her supper.
• • •
Talon climbed the stairs to the solar with Cleve at his heels. “What is so odd about the earl’s traveling chair being in the stable?”
“The earl does not ride, sir. An injury he got when he was young prevents him.”
Talon started at this news. “And this is the first time you noticed the chair was not gone along with the earl?”
The guardsman blanched. “The earl disappeared on the same day the ghost started haunting the keep. I already told you how I could get none to come near. And since you came, we’ve been right busy putting the keep in order.”
“What of the men who carried the chair?” He halted at the top of the stairs.
“Since the earl prefers the castle from his second wife’s dowry, he does not stay at Hawksedge Keep often, so we have no specific chair bearers. Any man who is able would do so, when the earl ordered it.” Cleve kept his head bent and traced idle patterns on the stone with his foot.
“Surely the earl does not travel here all the way from the south of England in a chair.”
“Na, sir. He takes a carriage and leaves it at Rosewood because he always stops there before coming on to Hawksedge.”
“Would it be Le Hourde’s men who acted as chair bearers?”
Cleve raised his head, but screwed up his face in thought, still not meeting Talon’s gaze. “Well, they woulda brought the earl from Rosewood, but all went back to Rosewood Castle the same day.”
Talon gnashed his teeth. Getting information from the guardsmen was harder than gathering roses from the sea.
“Did you send for Baron Le Hourde as I asked?”
“I thought ye wanted to wait for Father Timoras to return afore sending for the baron.” The man’s eyes went wide; then his gaze slid away from Talon’s questioning stare.
He huffed. “Send for Le Hourde with all possible speed. Let him know I require his presence in the king’s name.”
“Aye, sir.” Cleve started down the stairs. “I’ll send someone right now.”
“I would hope so,” Talon muttered beneath his breath.
“What’s that ye say, sir?” Cleve climbed back to join Talon.
He headed toward the solar. “Nothing important. I suppose none of the Hawksedge men questioned why they had not been ordered to carry the earl’s chair?”
Cleve swallowed. “’Tis good at supposin’, ye are, sir. I doubt any of the men noticed.”
“With all the work to put the keep to rights, I understand how a chair might go unnoticed.” Surely the captain of the Hawksedge guard would recognize sarcasm when he heard it.
“Thankee, sir. I do appreciate that.”
The man was too thickheaded to know when he’d been chastised.
Talon sighed. “Did the earl often walk outside the keep?”
“Not here, sir. O’ course, the earl was not often here, so ’tis hard to tell if he did anything regular-like outside.”
Talon put his hand on the latch to the solar.
“Tomorrow morning, I want you to send search parties in all directions. Until then, I’m very tired and do not want to be disturbed this night.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Good night then.” He dismissed the man and entered the solar.
“Good night, sir.”
Talon shut the door and strode to the hearth. He stirred the fire, then stripped off his clothing. So, the earl did not visit Hawksedge often nor maintain a large staff, for all it was his ancestral seat. According to Cleve, the earl only came to Hawksedge Keep when necessity demanded. What necessity had brought him this time? Hopefully Baron Le Hourde would be able to cast some light on that question.
Setting the keep to rights was Cleve’s reason for the delay in discovering the earl’s traveling chair. And in truth, the keep was taking a great deal of work. Work that Talon had shared. And though his body ached, at least he no longer stank. Had Larkin enjoyed his song?
He’d realized she was there after Alice left. He couldn’t miss the trail of small damp footprints that led from the tub to the bed curtains. The lavender-and-pansy-scented soap had confirmed his suspicions. Teasing her pleased him a small bit, and no harm had been done, for none knew she’d witnessed his bath. Save for crafty old Alice, who’d tried to help Larkin escape. His only regret was that he had not been able to witness her bathing.
Larkin gleaming and wet was a sight to please any man. Talon had been a long time without bed play, and lithesome Larkin would be just the woman to relieve his needy cock. She might find some pleasure too, if she would allow it. He’d never had complaints from other women. Given her claim to be Lady Larkin Rosham and the solutions she’d attempted to prove herself, he knew her to be creative and persistent. He admired her inventive determination, but they would both be better served with her creativity put to use in bed, not dreaming up more lies.
He stretched, easing the ache that set across his shoulders. Soon he would have that pleasure. ’Twas enough for now that Lady Falsehood remained within the keep where he could seduce her at his leisure. He hummed the tune he hoped would lead to Larkin’s landing in his bed. Tomorrow, after he’d set a more thorough search for the earl in motion, he would pursue the maid when the opportunity presented itself.
He turned to the bed, pulled aside the velvet drapery, and stared at the female occupying the feather mattress, then reached for her.
• • •
Larkin climbed the
stairs to the second floor. She was weary to the bone, but at least she no longer smelled like a midden. She looked longingly at the solar. The bed there was soft and warm, and she dearly wished to sleep in comfort. But Sir Talon occupied that bed. He might welcome her, but she would not welcome the consequences of joining him. Especially not if it involved meetings and greetings like those he’d sung about. That cursed song had tortured her thoughts all afternoon. She’d tried every trick she knew to escape the bawdy verses and met with failure at each attempt.
She shook her head and told herself firmly to get to the small chamber directly across from the solar and settle down for the night. She’d selected that room because it was the least filthy of those available. The room held a cot with ticking, and she’d gotten linens from the laundress. Tomorrow she would scour the room from top to bottom. For tonight, ’twas enough to have clean linens, a warm blanket, and privacy. She held her chamber door ajar when a shout of laughter from the solar stopped her.
“Argrh, you’ve no need to be sharp with me. I am beset with feminine invasions of my chamber. First that red-haired nymph steals into my bath. Now you, Cat, steal into my bed.”
She gasped. The lecher. He’d known all along. He needed to know that his behavior was unpardonable. She entered the solar and slammed the door behind her. “You wretched man. You knew I was here.”
His jaw dropped. “I beg pardon?”
“All the time you sang that horrid song, you knew I listened.”
His lips turned up. He stepped between her and her view of the bed’s occupant, then pulled the bed curtain closed.
She wanted to strike the grin from his face. “And then you stood up, while I watched. Did you enjoy it? Did it please you to flaunt your nakedness like any bawd?”
“I think it more to the point to ask if you enjoyed it.”
“Y ... You ... you ... know I could not.”
“Why?”
“’Tis unseemly.”
“You could have left,” he said blandly.
“With you to see me, and all the world to know I was in the room when you bathed?”
