Cast Love Aside

by Speer, Flora

  “You fainted into the bed? Both of you?” Magnus couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed. Not only was Lilianne delightfully feminine, she was entertaining, too. He sobered quickly when faced with the baleful glare she cast upon him, but he was compelled to repress fresh laughter when her stomach grumbled again.

  He wanted to seize her in his arms and taste her luscious, hungry mouth. He longed to lay her down on a silk-covered couch and feed her delicate morsels from his own fingers, to offer her wine from a silver cup. He thought with heated delight about letting the ruby wine trickle over Lilianne's stubborn chin and down her throat to pool between her breasts. He'd press his lips against her creamy skin and lap up the wine, and then he'd move on, below her slim waist. He'd dribble wine on her thighs and kiss it away until she begged him never to stop....

  “At last,” Lilianne whispered, moaning in pleasure. “The food is here.” She watched with avid interest as half a dozen servants entered the solar.

  “But the table isn't prepared,” Alice said. “It's just a bare trestle. Oh, really, how does Lord Royce manage without a chatelaine? No, no, you there – wait!”

  While Lilianne eyed the trays and platters of food with undisguised longing, Alice began to direct the servants, insisting a clean cloth was needed for the table before the meal was set out.

  “We will wait until you bring a cloth,” Alice said to one of the servants, speaking sweetly, but with the firmness of a noble woman who expects to be obeyed.

  “I'll die of starvation before she's satisfied,” Lilianne muttered to Magnus.

  “So will I,” he whispered back.

  “You? I thought you said you ate at the midday meal. How can you be starving? What have you been doing this afternoon to raise so fierce an appetite?”

  It's not food I crave. I've been longing for you. He didn't speak the words aloud, but his blazing desire must have shown on his face, for Lilianne looked hard at him and then began to blush. Rosy color washed over her face and throat. The hand she was holding over her stomach to quiet its insistent growling pressed harder. Above her hand, her bosom swelled in glorious, female roundness.

  Magnus had never seen anyone more beautiful. In her soiled and wrinkled gown, in need of a bath, with her uncombed hair springing wildly out of its single braid and her face flaming, Lilianne was the most magnificent woman he had ever met.

  “That's much better,” Alice said briskly. “There’s nothing like a well-set table.”

  “Nothing like it,” Lilianne echoed, her violet gaze fixed on Magnus.

  “And here come Lord Royce and the other gentlemen, just in time,” Alice said. “Good evening, my lord. Sir Braedon. William, how are you? I see you've shaved.”

  Alice's voice softened as she greeted William. Lilianne smiled to hear the alteration. Magnus smiled back at her.

  “My lord Royce,” Alice said, brisk and businesslike again, “I have discovered a way to repay you in part for so generously housing two unexpected and, I'm sure, inconvenient guests. Richton Castle requires a woman's hand. While I am here, I shall make myself useful by assuming some of a chatelaine's duties. Temporarily, of course. I do fully understand my situation here. Lilianne will be glad to assist me. Won't you, Lilianne?”

  “I'll be happy to do whatever you want,” Lilianne murmured, still looking into Magnus's eyes.

  “Well, then,” Alice said, “let us sit down. I must warn you, Lord Royce, Lilianne and I are very hungry. Aren't we, Lilianne?”

  “Desperately hungry,” Lilianne said. Her stomach gurgled loudly. She seemed unaware of the noise.

  Magnus knew he must break their lingering eye contact. Royce had certainly noticed it and while he was too well-bred to say anything that would embarrass Lilianne, in another moment or two the ever-irrepressible Braedon would likely begin to make comments.

  “My lady,” he said to Lilianne, “may I have the honor of escorting you to your seat?”

  “Thank you, Sir Magnus.” Her eyes were discreetly lowered at last, allowing Magnus to breathe again. She placed her hand on his arm while he led her to the table.

  The evening meal awaiting them offered no hint of Alice's assertion that Royce needed a chatelaine. A large platter of roasted game birds sat in the place of honor at the center of the table. A second platter containing slices of cold meats, a wooden board holding a wedge of cheese, another board with loaves of bread and a serrated knife, a basket of nuts in their shells, and several pitchers brimming with good wine completed the meal.

  Magnus heard Lilianne sigh over the feast in unconcealed delight. She reached for a game bird. Hungry though she undoubtedly was, she did not gobble her food. She tore the small roasted bird apart as daintily as would any great lady of King Henry's court. She sucked on the bones without making rude noises, and she licked her fingers with the care that good manners demanded. Magnus watched her pink tongue at work and imagined it flicking across his naked chest. And he wondered why he did not go mad with desire and attack her right there at the table.

  When the bones of the bird lay clean and gleaming at one side of the trencher the two of them were sharing, she ate several slices of cold beef and venison. Royce offered her a slice of cheese and she accepted it with a smile. Braedon refilled her wine cup. Her stomach had quieted about the same time she finished with the bird.

  Alice and William were deep in private conversation. Royce and Braedon chatted about a new sword that Royce had commissioned from the king's armorer. Magnus gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. Lilianne's fingers brushed against his hand and he feared he would shatter. He could not stop looking at her, wanting her, wanting her to want him.

  It was madness. It was hopeless. He knew better than to wish for what he could never have. Still, he could not make his heart behave. Or his renegade body, either.

  He was relieved when a servant approached to tell Royce he was wanted at the gate.

  “It's castle business,” Royce said, ending the meal by rising from the table.

  With Royce gone, Lilianne rather hastily excused herself. Magnus feared she planned to retreat to her bedchamber, where he dared not follow her. When he realized she wasn't going to leave the solar, he expelled the breath he had been holding. She went to stand at the trio of narrow windows, to gaze out at the slowly fading evening light.

  No longer caring what Braedon or William might think or say, Magnus joined her. Lilianne's left hand rested on the stone windowsill. Magnus placed his hand over hers, hoping she wouldn't withdraw from him. Behind them Alice and William were murmuring softly. Braedon was cracking nuts and drinking the last of the wine. So far as Magnus could tell, none of them were paying any attention to him, or to Lilianne.

  Slowly and gently, he stroked his fingers over the back of her hand. She caught her breath, but did not pull her hand away. Emboldened, Magnus lifted her hand off the sill, so he could caress her palm. Her fingers began to tremble.

  “Speak to me,” Magnus whispered. “Tell me what's in your heart.”

  “My world is collapsing around me,” she said. “I don't know what to do next. If Gilbert—”

  She broke off, swallowing hard, and Magnus guessed she was swallowing a sob as well as the rest of the sentence.

  “I know,” he said, still whispering. “If you speak the words aloud, if you give voice to your most dreadful fear, what you fear may come to pass. There have been times when I've felt that way, too.”

  She took a long, shuddering breath. Hearing it, Magnus slid his free arm around her waist, though he knew she required no physical support. In the next heartbeat she squared her shoulders and expressed her terror in a slightly different way.

  “I sorely miss my brother. Without Gilbert, I am alone.”

  Magnus thought of the brother whom he did not miss, the twin he loved and hated, whose rash and violent games would likely end in both their deaths, and he responded to Lilianne's grief out of his own sorrow over lost sibling affection.

&nb
sp; “We will have the truth of Gilbert's whereabouts from Erland. I swear it.”

  “I trust you, Magnus.” She turned within the circle of his arm, and Magnus lifted to his lips the hand he had been stroking.

  “I cannot kiss your mouth here,” he said softly. “Not where others are and where Royce may return at any moment. But if we were alone, I'd embrace you and kiss you until your fears vanish.”

  “They cannot vanish entirely until I behold Gilbert, safe and well. Make it soon, Magnus. Please, make it soon.”

  Seeing her lips trembling and the worried look in her eyes, he decided he would kiss her after all. The temptation was simply too great for him to resist any longer. He leaned toward her....

  “As I expected,” Royce said, coming into the solar, “the interruption was an unimportant matter.”

  Magnus dropped his arm from Lilianne's waist and stepped away from her. She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.

  “By the way,” Royce said to her, “earlier today I sent a squire to Dover, to a woman I know there, with orders for her to select gowns and whatever other items ladies might need. You should have them early tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Alice said. “You are most generous.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Lilianne added, knowing she spoke belatedly. Whenever she was close to Magnus, she seemed to forget everything else, including her manners.

  “It is my pleasure,” Royce responded. He stood quietly, not fidgeting in the least and, after one quick glance toward Magnus, not looking at anyone directly.

  It didn't take Lilianne long to realize that Royce would like all of them to retire. Considering the extremely unsettled state of her emotions, she thought it was a good idea if she left Magnus's too-alluring presence.

  “With your permission, my lord Royce,” she said, “I will bid you good night.”

  “So will I,” Alice immediately added.

  “I'll escort you to your room,” William offered.

  “Don't dawdle, William,” Braedon said, grabbing a handful of nuts from the basket on the table. “Don't forget, we have an appointment with two men-at-arms and a pair of dice.”

  “How could I forget? I intend to win back every farthing I lost to you in our last game.”

  “Not a chance, my friend. You will lose again.” Braedon laughed as he made for the stairs to the great hall.

  “Come along, Lilianne,” Magnus ordered. “I will conduct you to your chamber.”

  Lilianne had her mouth open to protest his commanding manner, when she saw the way he looked at Royce and inclined his head, as if he was sending a silent message. Royce's only response was a faint smile. Magnus gestured for Lilianne to precede him out of the solar. It was an order not to be denied, and she knew it. Royce and Magnus wanted everyone gone from the room. Wondering what their reason was, she obeyed with apparent meekness.

  They approached the bedchamber she shared with Alice in time to see William plant a chaste kiss on Alice's cheek. With a jaunty wave to Magnus and Lilianne as he passed them, William took himself off, whistling. He left Alice leaning against the door frame, her eyes closed, her lips curved into a dreamy smile. Slowly, Alice slid around the door frame, using it for support until she was inside the room. The door closed quietly behind her.

  “I do hope William won't make her care for him and then hurt her,” Lilianne murmured. “Will you speak to him?”

  “Why should I?” Magnus asked in a rough tone. “William's prospects are far better than mine. Once this mission is successfully completed, Royce intends to promote him. Then he'll have something to offer Alice. If she accepts him, she will have a home and a secure place at Wortham for the rest of her life.”

  “How do you know?” she demanded.

  “Royce told me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I must ask you to excuse me now. Royce is waiting for me.”

  “Yes, the two of you are up to something secretive, aren't you?”

  “We have business to transact. Good night, Lilianne. Sleep well.”

  “Magnus.” She put out her hand to catch his sleeve before he could turn away. He paused, looking so deep into her eyes that she was sure he read her thoughts and knew she longed for him to kiss her. For a few breathless moments she thought he would, prayed he would. She wanted his kiss with desperate urgency.

  “Lilianne.” He laid his forefinger on her mouth in a tender caress.

  “Magnus?”

  “It's me you ought to worry about, not William,” he said, his face suddenly hard and closed. “Unlike William, I have nothing to offer. My only possessions are my sword and my wits, a single horse, and one saddlebag of clothes. I don't even have a squire. Until yesterday, that was enough.”

  “It doesn't matter,” she began.

  “I’ve seen enough of the world to know that it does matter. If I hurt you by my impulsive embraces aboard the Daisy, I do most profoundly apologize. I promise not to repeat the insult.”

  She ached to tell him he hadn't insulted her and that he could only hurt her if he didn’t kiss her at once. But at the moment he looked like the harsh stranger who had treated her so coldly during their first meeting, the man determined to abduct her uncle. Here they were again, in another dim, stone corridor, and he was acting the same way. She didn't understand the shift in his mood.

  “My lady.” Magnus made a formal bow, turned on his heel, and marched away, his back rigid.

  He left Lilianne torn between disappointment and curiosity. Though innocent, she was not ignorant. Before her father's death there had been female servants at Manoir Sainte Inge, and she had observed how the men-at-arms and the household knights interacted with them. She could tell when a man was intrigued by a woman, so although Erland had repeatedly told her she was too ugly to attract a man, she knew Magnus found her interesting. Perhaps it was because they were almost the same height. He towered over Alice as he must tower over other ladies; perhaps women of ordinary height were intimidated by his size.

  She decided he hadn't kissed her because he was trying to be honorable. She recalled her father saying that good men sometimes felt compelled to forswear what they most desired, for the sake of honor.

  Having reached that point in her ruminations, curiosity rose anew. Magnus was obviously gently born, so why didn't he have many possessions? And what were he and Royce doing down in the solar, that they didn't want anyone else to witness?

  “Lilianne, why are you standing there in the chilly corridor?” Alice asked, poking her head out of their bedchamber.

  “Don't wait up for me,” Lilianne said. “There’s something I need to speak about with Lord Royce, something I forgot until this moment.”

  She walked quickly back along the corridor to the solar. Reaching the open arch, she flattened herself against the wall, then around the side. The last remains of the evening meal had been cleared away, including the linen cloth, though the candelabra remained and extra candlesticks had been added to shed plenty of light on the polished wood table.

  Magnus and Royce sat side by side on a bench, studying pieces of parchment that were scattered across the tabletop. No, not scattered; Lilianne was close enough to see how the irregularly shaped pieces were laid out in a pattern of some kind. An inkwell, a sand sifter, and several quills waited near Royce's hand.

  Lilianne recalled the documents that Magnus had scooped off her uncle's desk at Manoir Sainte Inge, and realized the men were reading what Erland had written. Was it something to do with Gilbert? Excited by the possibility, she ventured a step into the solar and began to pay careful attention to the conversation.

  “...approximate dates,” Royce was saying.

  “I agree,” Magnus said. “But what is the key?”

  He unfolded one large document with an abrupt snap of the parchment that sent Lilianne scurrying back into the shadows beyond the archway.

  “Patience,” Royce said. “We will break Erland's code. See here, these three scrambled words? They appe
ar several times on each sheet, always in the same order.”

  “May we assume they mean the same thing each time Erland wrote them?” Magnus asked. He frowned, staring at the spot Royce was marking with his finger. “If Erland wrote all of these notes at the manor, which seems likely, since that’s where I found them, perhaps those three words mean 'Manoir Sainte Inge.' If they do...”

  “If they do,” Royce said, completing the thought, “we have a chance of deciphering Erland's writings rather quickly. Now, look here...”

  Lilianne stood fascinated, gazing at Magnus's dark head bent close to Royce's red-gold hair. The two of them were totally caught up in their concentration on the parchments. They were outwardly so different, yet the absorbed expressions on their faces were so alike.

  She took full advantage of the rare opportunity to observe Magnus without having him look back at her. His level grey gaze, so cool and assessing, often confused her. But now, for just a little while, she could feast her eyes on his strong-boned face. The mouth he usually held in a taut line was relaxed, one corner curving upward in a half smile. How straight and handsome his nose was, how firm his clean-shaven jaw.

  Warmth began to creep through Lilianne, a heat centered somewhere far inside her. She sighed in wistful longing for something she didn't fully understand, something beyond her experience.

  “No,” Royce said, shaking his head. “We don't have it yet. Perhaps the code is a combination of letters and numbers. Let's try this.” Picking up a quill, he dipped it in the inkwell and began to mark one of the parchments, counting under his breath between each mark he made.

  Lilianne lingered at the far side of the arch, alternately straining to hear what the low masculine voices were saying and peering around the arch to see what Magnus was doing. Surely, men so determined would soon unravel Erland's secret writings. If he had written anything about Gilbert, certainly Magnus would tell her, for he knew how worried she was about her brother.

  All the same, she stayed where she was, watching and listening intently until the chill of the stone walls and the approaching voices of Braedon and William on the stairs to the solar drove her back to her bedchamber.