He thought about bringing Vicq and Leone along when he rode out to intercept the couple, but they tended to get carried away. He didn't want de Périgeaux's skull bashed in; he just wanted to teach him a lesson.
"Did you hear me?" Milo demanded in his quavering old man's voice. "I said I don't want any harm—"
"Wench!" Gaspar shouted to a serving girl just before he ducked into the stairwell. "Go to the buttery and bring his lordship some wine. Step lively!"
* * *
"I wish we could just turn around and run away," Nicki murmured against Alex's back as they traveled along the wooded path that led to Peverell. She rode pillion behind his saddle on Atlantes's blanketed back, her arms around him, savoring his strength and warmth through his soft linen shirt. Birds chortled above the shadowy treetops. The morning was clear and sunny, last night's storm having run its course, but the ground beneath them was still saturated with rain; she could smell it all around them.
"Me, too." Alex took a hand off the reins and covered one of hers. She felt his chest expand with a deep sigh. "Things have gotten..." He fell silent for a moment, and then he brought her fingertips to his mouth and kissed them. "At least we had last night."
"Mmm." And what a night it was. Nicki closed her eyes, reliving the ecstasy of that first joining, the shocking pleasure, the sense of completion, of all-consuming bliss. Alex had groaned in pain as they separated, and rubbed at his hip. She took over, gently massaging the places he showed her until he sighed in relief. His sighs turned to moans in response to her ministrations; guiding her hand, he showed her another kind of healing touch, and then he pulled her on top of him and showed her more. She'd delighted in the novelty of the position, the unaccustomed sense of control, the stimulation of looking down on him as he thrust into her, of setting the pace by the movements of her hips. They reached the zenith together, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes. Afterward, they'd slept beneath his mantle, curled together in naked contentment.
"There's something I've been wondering about," she said hesitantly.
"Aye?"
"You didn't...that is, you told me once that when you're with a woman, you generally...uncouple before...and you didn't." She felt the muscles of his back tighten and regretted having broached the subject. Perhaps he felt ashamed of having lost control. The first time was so quick and explosive; how could he have had the presence of mind to withdraw? And the second time, she'd been on top, and it had been the last thing on her mind. "'Twas foolish of me to bring it up," she said. "Forget I—"
"'Tisn't foolish," he said, patting her hand. "Never think that. Of course you're concerned about...what may happen. It's perfectly understandable."
Alex must be concerned, as well. Nicki knew he didn't want children; he dreaded the prospect.
"Believe it or not," she said, "Milo would probably be delighted if I became pregnant. He actually wanted me to bear another man's child in order to keep Peverell." She waited for Alex's response; none was forthcoming. Had she been hoping, deep inside, that he'd changed his mind about children, and desired one, from her?
Idiot. He'd been clear enough, on more than one occasion, about not wanting to sire offspring. The last thing in the world I want is for the women I bed to bear my bastards. She knew she wasn't just any woman he'd bedded. But, with a mental shake, she reminded herself that a bastard was the last thing she wanted growing in her belly. "I couldn't have whored myself, of course, even for such a cause. And if I had, everyone would have known the babe wasn't Milo's. That wasn't the way, and it still isn't."
Alex was silent, most likely appalled by the sordidness of Milo's scheme.
"If you don't want to...uncouple," she said, "I'll find another way. I'll ask Xavierre, the midwife."
"Nay!"
"Whyever not?"
His answer was slow in coming. "Midwives are notorious gossips. You wouldn't want it getting out that you've been asking about...preventing babies. Everyone knows you and Milo want a son."
Nicki considered this. "I'll talk to Edith, then. She knows about such things."
"But mightn't she be indiscreet, as well?"
"Edith? She can't remember things from one moment to the next. Nay, she won't talk. And she knows about the various...techniques. Some of them, anyway. She's the one who told me about the womb of the she-goat—"
"Sweet Jesus."
"And the herbs."
"Herbs," he said thoughtfully.
"Herbs that a woman can tie in a bundle around her neck—"
"Ah, yes," he said, brightening. "I remember. Yes, I think you ought to try the herbs."
His fervor said it all; he was adamant about not siring children. "All right," she said, fighting her absurd sense of disappointment. "I'll talk to Edith as soon as we get back."
They rode for some time in silence. "I need to tell you something," he finally said, squeezing her hand as he walked Atlantes along the muddy track. "Last night was unlike anything I've ever known. I want you to know that, Nicki. That it wasn't just..." He sighed again, in evident frustration at the inadequacy of words. "In the past, the sport of love has been just that to me—a game, a merry pastime. It's never been like it was last night. It felt magical, as if we were one being, with one soul and one body."
"Aye." That sense of communion with him, of connection on a higher plane, had overwhelmed Nicki's initial misgivings. How could something that felt so right, so intrinsically perfect, be sinful? She knew in her heart that their love was good and pure, and that knowledge had freed her to revel in their lovemaking.
A low, masculine chuckle tickled her ear. "Not that it was a purely spiritual experience. Just remembering how it felt to be inside you makes me want to throw you on the ground and toss your skirts up."
As if to prove his point, he slid her hand beneath his shirt and pressed it to his manhood, distended beneath his snug woolen chausses. She shaped her hand around the thick organ, recalling the sense of invasion, of being split open, that first time, when he'd impaled her so hard and fast. He'd apologized afterward, fearful of having hurt her, but she'd assured him there was no need for contrition. The discomfort of being so rudely invaded had been lost in the astonishing pleasure he gave her. Never had she known such gratification.
She stroked him the way he'd shown her last night, remembering the second time, with her on top. He'd cautioned her to lower herself onto him slowly, gripping her hips to ensure this. Still, she'd felt stretched almost beyond endurance, and was awed at the sense of fullness once he was buried within her.
Nicki grew warm, musing on last night's lovemaking. Her breath quickened along with Alex's as she fondled him. Presently he reined in Atlantes and slid his right foot from the stirrup. "Put your foot in the stirrup," he told her.
She did as he asked. Turning toward her and shifting his weight, he caught her about the waist and swept her onto his lap, seating her sideways. Atlantes swung his big head around, regarding them with an expression of mild curiosity.
"That's better," Alex murmured, dropping the reins and prodding Atlantes into a walk again with a squeeze of his thighs. Cupping the back of her head, he closed his mouth over hers, while with his free hand he kneaded her breasts restlessly, tugging at her nipples in a way that sent currents of arousal crackling through her. He broke the kiss, gasping her name as he tilted her head back to kiss her throat. Whipping her skirts up, he reached between her thighs and slid a finger deep inside her, growling with satisfaction to find her already wet.
He ground himself against her, moaning. His desperation was contagious. She held his head still for another fierce kiss and closed her hand over his erection, caressing him through the tightly stretched wool with the firm pressure he seemed to like.
He kept his finger inside her, stroking her slowly, the pleasure building gradually but inexorably, intensified by the gentle jogging of the animal beneath them. They writhed in rhythm with each other and the horse's leisurely gate, their breath coming in harsh pants, los
t in their spiraling pleasure.
Atlantes broke into a trot, jarring them out of their sensual reverie. Hissing a curse, Alex held Nicki tight and grabbed the reins, tugging on them to halt the confused beast, who'd apparently misinterpreted some movement of theirs as a command to speed up.
Laughing breathlessly, Nicki said, "That was exciting."
"The excitement's not over." Gripping her waist, Alex lowered her to the ground.
The narrow dirt path squished wetly underfoot. "Alex, if you mean what I think you mean—"
"That I must have you now or go mad?" He dismounted and swiftly tethered Atlantes to a branch. "That's precisely what I mean."
"What about the herbs?"
He stalked toward her, eyeing her wolfishly. "I'm afraid I can't wait for them."
She backed up swiftly. "But the ground is all muddy. 'Twill ruin my tunic."
"Your tunic will be fine." Seizing her by the shoulders, he backed her up against a gigantic old oak at the edge of the path. "Raise your skirt."
Startled but excited by the brusque command, she clutched her skirt in both hands and pulled it up to her thighs.
He yanked at the drawstring of his chausses. "Higher." Freeing himself, he lifted her against the tree. She clutched his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist, hitching her breath in when he pressed her open.
"Oh, God, Nicki, you're so tight." Supporting her hips with an iron grip, he shoved himself a little further in, pausing to let her adjust to him.
Already on the brink of release, Nicki moaned at the sweet, burning pressure of him inside her. Her heart pounded wildly as he filled her. They groaned in unison when he sank in completely.
Dipping his head down, he closed his lips over a stiff nipple, sucking so hard she could feel the warmth and wetness of his mouth through her tunic and shift. She gasped when he bit her, the sharp pressure of his teeth sending her over the edge, into a heart-stopping climax.
She heard her own hoarse cry of fulfillment as the pleasure rocked through her. A grouse raced from the brush with a furious thumping of wings.
Alex moaned her name as he drove into her, his pace growing faster, less steady, more urgent. His fingers dug hard into her hips, the muscles of his shoulders tightening beneath her hands.
"I love you, Nicki," he rasped. He looked up and met her gaze, sweat-dampened hair hanging in his eyes, his expression desperate, almost sad. "I'm sorry. I didn't know we'd fall in love. I didn't."
At a loss for words, she kissed him. He hammered into her with furious abandon, driven by this inexplicable sorrow that had befallen him. Abruptly he stilled, his body taut and quivering, his expression almost anguished. She felt a frenzied throbbing inside her, and then the air left his lungs in a low, guttural moan.
She expected him to withdraw from her and set her down. Instead, still holding her against the tree, he lowered his head to the crook of her neck and whispered her name. His face was hot and damp against her throat, his ragged breath ticklish.
His sudden shift in mood perplexed her. It was true—all too sadly true—that she and Alex had no future together. She was a married woman; Alex was still a soldier, with no desire for a home or attachments. The futility of their love—and the knowledge that it must come to an end—was a burden she carried constantly in her heart, alongside the joy of loving him. Yet never had she thought to see Alex, with his lighthearted temperament, stricken with melancholy over anything, even the aching hopelessness of their love. The possibility that he might care as much as she did astounded her.
Alex jerked his head up and stared toward the path.
"Alex, what—"
"Shh!" He listened for another moment, frowning in concentration. Nicki's chest grew tight when she saw that his eyes were wet. "Someone's coming."
"Are you sure?" she asked as he carefully drew himself out of her and lowered her to the ground.
"Yes." He swiftly tied his chausses and wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. Nicki brushed damp bits of bark off the back of her skirt and arranged her loose hair to cover the wet spot Alex's mouth had made on the bodice of her tunic.
"Could it be bandits?" she asked.
"Unlikely—they usually travel on foot, and it sounds like a lone man on horseback. But I want you to stay out of sight." He led her behind the big oak.
"I hear it now."
Hoofbeats approached from the direction they'd been heading, slowing down as the horseman rode into sight.
"It's just Gaspar," Nicki whispered, but when she tried to step out from behind the tree, Alex restrained her with his arm.
"Wait."
"Why?" But she stayed put, watching along with Alex as Gaspar dismounted and tethered his mount next to Atlantes. He rubbed his chin as he walked slowly around Milo's sorrel gelding, and then he peered this way and that way into the surrounding woods.
Alex backed her further behind the concealing tree.
"Why are we hiding?" Nicki asked. Gaspar knows you've been riding Atlantes. He's looking for you."
Gaspar reached beneath his mantle and withdrew his mallet.
"So it would seem." Alex unsheathed his sword.
"Jesus have mercy," Nicki whispered. "What on earth—"
"Stay here." Before Nicki could object, Alex crept off through the trees, keeping himself to Gaspar's back, his footsteps eerily silent. Clearly, his reputation for stealth was well deserved. Circling around his prey, he came up behind Gaspar on the path and touched the tip of his sword to the back of his neck. "Looking for me?"
Gaspar stood motionless for a long moment, the head of the mallet resting on the ground. "My lord Milo sent me to find you...and his lady wife."
Nicki bit her lip, wondering how many people knew she'd been gone all night with Alex.
Alex said, "I seem to recall an oath I made once, on the relic in this very sword, to do away with you if you ever came at me with that bloody thing again."
"I haven't tried to use it against you, have I?"
"Nay, nor will you. Throw it that way." Alex pointed so that Gaspar could see, toward the woods on the other side of the path from Nicki. "As hard as you can."
"You don't trust me?"
"Why the devil should I?"
Gaspar gripped the mallet with both fists, his eyes as flat and lifeless as Nicki had ever seen them, his mouth curving in a predatory smile. She was about to call out a warning to Alex, but it wasn't necessary. Before Gaspar could act on his impulse, Alex twisted the sword slightly, which made Gaspar wince. Swearing colorfully, he hurled the mallet into the woods.
"Where's Lady Nicolette?" Gaspar asked.
Still holding the sword on Gaspar, Alex said, "She's no concern of yours. Saddle up and be gone."
Gaspar walked up to his horse and turned to face Alex. "I came to tell you to be more discreet. It won't do, you staying out all night with her. People will—"
"Don't you presume to tell me what to do," Alex said.
"What of her ladyship's reputation?"
"Why should it damage her reputation to take shelter from a storm?"
Gaspar smiled salaciously. "Are you saying that's all that went on last night, after the way you and she have been—"
Alex advanced on Gaspar in two strides, pressing his sword so hard against the big man's throat that he had to bend backward against his horse to keep from being cut; fear widened Gaspar's eyes. Nicki stared in unblinking fascination. This was a side of her easygoing Alex she'd never seen—the veteran mercenary soldier who could open a man's throat with a flick of his wrist.
"Who in Hades do you think you are?" Alex demanded in a low, fierce voice. "If you ever again dare to imply such things about her ladyship, in anyone's hearing, you'll answer to my steel. And believe me," he added with bared teeth, stepping closer to slide the edge of the blade lightly across Gaspar's throat, "I'll relish the excuse to slice you open." He stepped back. "Now, get out of here."
Gaspar licked his lips nervously. "I need to get my mallet first."
>
"You can get it later."
Bested, Gaspar mounted up. Apparently it gave him confidence to be on horseback, because he said, "I wasn't planning on coming back this way today. Be a good fellow and fetch it for me. I can do you no damage with it from up here."
"You overstep yourself, asking me to fetch for you."
A tide of red rose up Gaspar's neck; he glared at Alex with a loathing that chilled Nicki. Alex's comment had reminded Gaspar of his station, increasingly a sore spot with him. For the first time ever, she felt truly afraid of him.
"You will be coming back this way later today," Alex informed him. "I want you to bring a cart and fetch her ladyship's mare. She's dead in the stream about a mile from the abbey."
Gaspar's chin jutted out. "I don't take orders from you, de Périgeaux."
"But you still take them from me." Nicki stepped out from behind the tree, to Alex's obvious displeasure.
Gaspar blinked at her. "My lady. If I'd know you were there, I wouldn't have said...I—"
"You wouldn't have insulted me to my face, only behind my back, is that it?"
The red stain spread up Gaspar's throat to his face. His gaze lit on Nicki's hair, hanging loose, and her wrinkled tunic. All too aware of the dampness between her thighs, she felt much the same under his scrutiny as she had twelve years ago, after losing her innocence to Phillipe in the stable. But she was no longer a cowed sixteen-year-old girl, and she'd be damned if she'd surrender to her fear of this man.
"Make no mistake, Gaspar," she said. "The only reason I don't dismiss you today is that you've been assigned the stewardship of Peverell in the event my husband and I are obliged to relinquish the castellany. 'Twould anger Father Octavian if I were to remove you now, and I must endeavor to remain on good terms with him. But don't think you can push me any further than you already have. Any more insolence from you and I'll toss you out on your ear. Or perhaps," she added with a small smile, "I'll hand you over to Alex."
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