It was late afternoon by the time she arrived. Fortunately, the smithy was already gone for the day, and the young apprentice who let her in was too awed by the lady from the abbey, who knew so much about smithing, to ask too many questions about her waiting for her old “friend.”
He was eleven, he informed her, and the smith was his father. She entertained him with stories from her past watching Thom work while he finished up his chores for the day. By the time he left, she was sad to see him go.
With the boy gone and left without distraction, she began to grow nervous. She had not eaten since the midday meal, and her stomach started to grumble as darkness fell outside. She should have grabbed a hunk of bread and cheese. And wine—plenty of fortifying wine. But she hadn’t really thought that far ahead.
What was she going to do if Thom wouldn’t forgive her? She didn’t know anything about seduction—she was a virgin for goodness’ sake! She should have asked someone. Not Joanna, obviously, but maybe Lady Helen? She had the feeling she would have understood. Perhaps she might have offered some tips? Suggestions? Tactics?
Elizabeth took off her heavy fur-lined wool cloak—despite the fire going out some time ago, she was warm—and tossed it on a bench. As it fell, it gave her an idea.
No. She couldn’t. She looked down at her remaining clothes—a fairly simple and easy-to-remove surcotte and cotte. Could she?
Elizabeth was pacing anxiously around the room when she finally heard the door open. She froze, glancing over as a man entered. Only when she saw the tall, familiar frame did she heave an inward sigh of relief. He had a sack slung over his shoulder, which from the size and shape she assumed was Jamie’s sword.
She was standing to the side, so he shouldn’t have noticed her right away. But almost like prey sensing danger, his eyes immediately locked on hers.
His utter lack of reaction sent a pang of foreboding to her heart. He didn’t look surprised, he didn’t look furious (what she’d expected), and he certainly didn’t look happy (had she secretly hoped so?). He didn’t look anything. There wasn’t a flicker of emotion in the cold, blue-eyed gaze that met hers.
Oh God, was it too late? Had she completely destroyed all the feelings he once had for her?
“How did you know—” He stopped, his mouth falling in a grim line. “Joanna.”
Elizabeth nodded mutely. He looked so imposing—so distant—so utterly unlike her Thommy that the nervousness she felt earlier returned tenfold. Her confidence wavered and the first icy beads of perspiration dotted her brow. She was so sure she knew him, but what if she didn’t? What if nothing she did could make him forgive her? What if all she succeeded in doing was humiliating herself?
It didn’t matter. She had to at least try.
“I know I shouldn’t be here like this, but I had to talk to you, and you left me little choice.”
He crossed into the room, putting the sword down on the table before turning to look at her. “And why should it make any difference what I want?”
“That isn’t what I meant—”
He held up his hand to stop her. “Go ahead, say what you have to say, and then leave. I have work to do and people are waiting for me.”
Elizabeth felt a flash of temper, but reminded herself that he had every cause to be disagreeable. She’d wronged him. Horribly. But his impatient and indifferent attitude was definitely grating.
“I’m sorry. I made a mistake, Thom. I never should have agreed to marry Randolph.”
“So you’ve said. Why should that make any difference to me?”
Nothing could prevent her temper from flaring at that one. She pressed her lips together, praying for patience. “Because you love me.”
“I did. More than anything in the world.”
Her heart sank like a stone. Fear gripped her. He still did. Don’t believe him. She remembered what Lady Helen had said about Magnus telling her he no longer loved her—because he was stubborn. “And I love you,” she whispered.
“Not enough apparently.”
She took the barb, which although warranted still stung. She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Enough to break the engagement with Randolph.”
The first crack in his steely shield appeared; she’d surprised him. But then his eyes narrowed. “When did you do that? I was just with your betrothed. He gave no hint that the engagement had ended.”
She flushed. “I tried to tell him earlier, but he had to leave. I wrote him a note, though, that my cousin will give him, and sent one to Jamie as well.”
“I’m no expert at betrothal agreements, but I believe it takes a little more than a couple of notes to break one.”
Condescension and sarcasm were definitely not her favorite combination. She glared at him, snapping, “I know that.”
Thom merely shrugged. “I still don’t understand why any of this should matter to me.”
She was fuming and her hands were on her hips. “Because I want to marry you. Although right now, I’m trying to remember why.”
Her flash of temper did nothing more than elicit a cocked brow from him. “I believe you already refused my proposal, and I don’t recall issuing another one.”
If he was trying to embarrass her and make her feel foolish, it was working. She looked up at him pleadingly. “I was scared and confused, Thom. Can you not try to understand?”
“I do understand. What I don’t understand is what has changed.” He paused, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. “Of course I do. My situation has improved enough for you, is that it? Now that I’ve achieved some renown, that I’m to be knighted and presented with land, I am worth taking a risk on?”
“None of that had anything to do with it.”
“So the timing of your ‘grand epiphany’ is just a coincidence?”
She shouldn’t be surprised that he’d question her motives, but it stung. “I knew I’d made a mistake the moment I stood next to Randolph to say those vows, but it wasn’t until I learned what you were going to do, and that your life was in danger, that I knew I would do whatever I had to do—no matter what the cost or how unpleasant—to extricate myself from it.” Seeing he wasn’t convinced, she added, “If you don’t believe me, ask Joanna. Ask Lady Helen. Ask my cousin. They’ll tell you. I tried to tell you myself, but you wouldn’t listen.” She took a deep breath that was almost a sob. “God, I could have lost you, Thommy. I was so scared. How could you have put yourself in danger like that?”
The tears in her eyes and obvious despair seemed to mean nothing to him. “You lost me the moment you said those words binding you to another man. Whether you regretted it before or after doesn’t matter.”
She took a step toward him. “You don’t mean that.”
But he did. She could see it. He doesn’t want me, he doesn’t love me anymore.
No, he was just being stubborn . . . wasn’t he? His feelings couldn’t change that fast. She had to find a way to get through to him. “What can I say, but I’m sorry. I made a mistake. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t think clearly. I had a plan—I thought I knew what I wanted—and when you came in and tried to change everything at the last minute, I made the wrong decision. I would do anything to take it back, but I can’t. All I can do is try to correct it and beg for your forgiveness.”
He stared at her emotionlessly. Mulishly. Not giving a blasted inch.
“Is there nothing I can do or say that will make you forgive me? Is your heart that hard? Will you allow pride and stubbornness to prevent you from taking what I’m offering?”
The hot flare of anger in his eyes was the first sign that he might not be as indifferent as he seemed. “What exactly are you offering, Elizabeth? Somehow I don’t see your brother welcoming me into the family. So are we to run off together? You can be damned sure if we do that there won’t be a knighthood or a barony—or anything else for that matter.”
Was he relenting? From his expression it was questionable, but at least he appeared to be considering it. She
felt bold enough to move forward and place a tentative palm on his chest. “That doesn’t matter.”
His jaw clenched. “It does to me.”
Good gracious, the logic of male pride utterly escaped her. First he wanted her to take him with nothing, and now that he had something, he wouldn’t take her without it? She prayed for patience. “I will make Jamie understand.”
He made a sharp sound of disbelief. “How do you intend to do that?”
“By making sure it’s too late for him to do anything about it.”
It didn’t take him long to realize what she meant. “Hell, no, Elizabeth. I won’t do it. Not like that.”
She took one look at his expression and knew he meant it. At times, honor and nobility could be decidedly inconvenient.
She sighed, realizing she had no other choice. She winced a little at the thought though. Good gracious, could she really do this? Desperate times . . . desperate measures.
Removing her hand from his chest, she stood back and began to work the ties of her gown.
If her hands weren’t shaking, she would have appreciated the nervous way he was eyeing her.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
She’d never seen him look so shocked; obviously, she’d surprised him. To put it mildly. “Taking off my clothes,” she answered matter-of-factly.
“W-why?”
Sputtering was a good thing, wasn’t it? “I’d rather hoped that would be obvious, but I’m trying to seduce you. And since you said you wanted to see me standing before you naked, I thought that was a good way to start.” She paused for a moment, letting her eyes slide down to the heavy bulge between his legs. “You also said something about having my mouth on you, but I’m afraid I may require some instruction for that.”
Holy hell. Whatever else Thom had been about to say flew out of his mind. It was replaced by an image of Lady Elizabeth Douglas on her knees before him—naked—pleasuring him with her mouth. The surge of lust was so hot and heavy, the yearning so intense, it was a hard image to dislodge.
But he did so. Forcibly. And maybe with a little bit of a groan.
She heard it—damn it—and it emboldened her movements, which had been anxious and fumbling, with newfound purpose. Her surcotte dropped into a pool of velvet at her feet before he could get a hand on her wrist.
“Stop it,” he demanded angrily. “It won’t work. You aren’t going to change my mind. I don’t want you.” She looked down at the proof to the contrary, which was too damned big and hard to hide. His jaw clamped down like a vise. “Not like this.”
“You can have it your way next time.”
His teeth were literally grinding at all the images that flooded his head. “That is not what I meant, damn it.”
“I’m not going to wait for someone else’s permission, Thom. Are you going to let my brother decide your future?” He stiffened, as no doubt was her intention. She knew how much the thought of that would grate. Don’t touch. Don’t reach too high. Remember your place. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and as this seems to be the best way to guarantee it, I’m not going to let anything stand in the way. Your honor will be intact. You aren’t seducing me, I’m seducing you.”
“That doesn’t make any difference, Ella, and you bloody well know it!”
She tugged her wrist from his hold and resumed her task as if he hadn’t spoken.
He should stop her, damn it. He couldn’t let her manipulate him like this. He didn’t love her anymore. She’d hurt him for the last time. He didn’t want—
Ah, hell. Her cotte followed the surcotte to the floor, and his mouth went dry. It felt as if most of the blood in his body had drained to his feet as well.
Want was all he felt.
She bent down to remove her shoes and hose, and then she stood before him in nothing but a chemise. The thin linen left preciously little to the imagination. He could see the high pink tips of her breasts, the heavy roundness of their substantial weight, the slender curve of her waist and hips, the long length of her limbs. With a few tugs at pins in her hair, the luxuriant long blond tresses fell into sensual waves around her shoulders.
She looked like a goddess. Like a creature from his dreams. Like every sexual fantasy he’d ever had. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms, lay her back against the table, wrap her legs around his waist, and sink into her inch by inch.
He forced his hands to his sides, fighting against the urge to touch her. He was a damned fool. He wasn’t going to do this. Not again, damn it. Maybe the first time she’d rejected him he could say that she hadn’t been aware of what she was doing, but he couldn’t say the same this time.
He tore his eyes away. “Get out of here, Elizabeth. You are only shaming yourself.”
For a moment, he thought he’d convinced her. Hell, he almost convinced himself.
She was too quiet. But when he glanced back at her, she shook her head. “No. You still love me, I know you do.” She stared at him defiantly—but with enough uncertainty and embarrassment to remind him of her current vulnerability. To remind him that she was an innocent maid who was acting on instinct, not practice, and how hard this must be for her. To remind him that she was doing this for him.
“I made a mistake.”
Was she right? Was his heart so hard that he couldn’t forgive? Was it pride that was keeping him from pulling her into his arms?
No, damn it. It was the image of her standing before a room of people binding herself to another man.
The fact that she could still get to him, that she thought he could be so easily won over by a naked body and naughty proposition—and that she could make him vacillate, even for an instant—infuriated him. “Think whatever the hell you want. I don’t give a shite.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said with an impressive amount of confidence in the face of his rejection. He might have admired her tenacity if it wasn’t about to test the very limits of his restraint.
Before he could stop her—he was sure he would have—she crossed her arms, clutched the folds of linen in her fists, and pulled her chemise over her head. An instant later it landed on the floor at her feet.
26
EVERYTHING SEEMED TO stop: his heart, his lungs, movement, time. For a moment Thom forgot the anger, forgot the hurt, forgot the betrayal, forgot that he didn’t love her anymore. All he could see, all that mattered, was the beautiful woman standing before him naked. The beautiful woman who’d held his heart since childhood. The beautiful woman he never thought could be his. The beautiful woman who was now offering herself to him like the proverbial virgin to the sacrifice because she wanted to marry him.
Christ, she was gorgeous. His fantasies hadn’t done her justice. The dimensions had all been right, but the creamy flawlessness of her skin, the berry pink of her nipples, the height and firmness of her breasts, the dark blond of the triangle between her legs . . . he’d gotten those all wrong. But the details would be etched in his mind forever. Every incredible inch of her.
The pink blush on her cheeks darkened with each passing moment of silence. She started to shift, and he knew it was taking everything she had not to cover herself as he continued to stare.
But God almighty, he couldn’t have turned away if the first Edward of England had risen from the grave and was breaking down the door. And he sure as hell couldn’t think of anything to say, not when his mind was filled with erotic images of what he wanted to do. And not when his cock was throbbing so hard he had to concentrate on not embarrassing himself.
It was only when he noticed what was on her wrist that he jolted back to reality. She was wearing it again—his bracelet—and somehow the sight of the brass band was like salt being ground into a wound. She wasn’t his. She’d never been his. He’d only been fooling himself.
He forced his gaze away from her nakedness and turned away. He wasn’t going to let her do this to him. He wasn’t going to be manipulated by desire.
He started walking toward
the door.
“Thommy . . . ?” He heard the panic in her voice as she rushed toward him. “Wait!” She grabbed hold of his arm to stop him. “You can’t go.” He couldn’t look at her face because he was scared what it would do to him. Scared that her fear would find a way to penetrate the ice around his heart. “Are you going to say anything?”
His fists clenched; the effort not to take what she offered had turned every muscle in his body as rigid as stone. “What do you want me to say? That you are exquisite? That I’ve never seen anything more beautiful or desirable?”
Her expression fell; apparently compliments weren’t what she wanted to hear. “I hoped you might say that you forgive me. That you love me, and still want to marry me.”
Hearing the words that he was fighting so hard to deny slip so easily from her lips snapped the last threads of his control. He hauled her up against him. “What did you think, Elizabeth? That two perfectly formed, lush, and pink-tipped breasts were going to make me forget having my insides torn out as you promised yourself to another man? That a tight, curvy bottom and long sleek legs were going to repair the heart that you shredded apart when I had to watch you kiss him? That taking off your clothes was going to make me love you again?”
Her eyes had widened at his outburst of rage, and her cheeks burned with shame. “No . . . Yes.” She looked up at him pleadingly. “I didn’t know what else to do. You weren’t listening to me, and I wanted to prove how much I loved you. To lay myself bare.” She took a deep breath. “I know I hurt you when I rejected your proposal, and I just thought that if somehow . . .”
She looked at him helplessly.
“You put yourself in the same position we would be even?” he finished. “But I bet you never thought I would reject you, did you? You thought I’d be so overcome with wanting you I’d fall to my knees in gratitude.”
The Rock Page 33
