Dangerous

by Hawthorne, Julia

“Cherries?” When he growled, she laughed. “You’re such an easy mark. Truly, I think I need only get out of bed in the morning for you to want me back in it.”

  “How could I not? I’m but a man, and I love sharing the bed of such a beautiful woman.”

  Her smile melted, giving way to an expression he’d never seen from her. As her chin dropped, he gently lifted it. Brushing the hair back from her face, he searched her eyes for what might be causing her sudden distress. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not beautiful,” she stated flatly.

  He couldn’t begin to fathom how she’d come to believe such a thing, but he knew that even if he protested until he was out of breath, he’d not change this very headstrong woman’s opinion of herself. Then a method for demonstrating the truth occurred to him, and he smiled. “I can prove otherwise.”

  “How?”

  Easing her feet to the floor, Eric offered her his hand. “Come. I’ll show you.”

  He led her to the looking glass and stood behind her. “Tell me, my fine lady. What do you see?”

  “Black,” she spat with a scowl. When he pulled her hair back from her face, the amethysts twinkled at her ears, and she laughed. “Violet.”

  “Do you know what I see?” he murmured, his tongue rimming the shell of her ear.

  “Mmm.”

  “I see a woman with a fine spirit, who hasn’t allowed fate to defeat her heart.”

  At mention of her heart, she realized he’d opened her bodice without her notice. His hand slid beneath her shift to cup her breast. As his thumb brushed over the tip, she leaned back with a quiet hum of pleasure. Deftly, he loosened her gown, his other hand caressing her through the folds of her skirts.

  “Never have I known this madness, Lise,” he breathed, pressing her back against him. “Can you feel how much I want you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, entranced by the rich melody of his voice, the mesmerizing effect of his hands.

  Her gown slid to the floor, quickly followed by her underclothes. All the while, Eric kissed her, inflaming her with soft confessions of love and desire. “Shall I tell you what else I see?”

  “There’s more?”

  “Much more. Here I see a queenly jaw.” He traced it with a gentle touch that drifted lazily downward. “A graceful neck. Lovely shoulders.” He kissed across them, setting fire to her bare skin.

  His hands closed over her breasts, his dark skin a sensual contrast to her own. Imagining herself at the mercy of those inventive hands sent a shimmer of excitement through her.

  “These I like,” he murmured. “Very much.”

  “Truly? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “And that sharp tongue. You use it well.”

  As he continued his erotic assessment of her, she became vaguely aware of him removing his clothes.

  Resting a palm between her breasts, he asked, “What wicked thought has set your heart to racing?”

  “Did you think to make love to me here, in front of the mirror?”

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Would that please you?”

  “I’ve never done such a thing. Have you?”

  “Do you really wish for me to answer that?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “’Tis none of my affair.”

  His chest rumbled with a low chuckle, and he nosed along her jaw to murmur in her ear. “Interesting, your choice of words.”

  “I’m ashamed to be so curious about your past. I can only imagine—”

  “None of that matters now.” His hands followed the curve of her waist, splayed possessively over her hips as he knelt, drawing her down with him. Pressing her against him, he deftly swiveled to give her full view of the mirror. “This night, I’m with you.”

  Rolling his thumb over the spot aching for his touch, he made her tremble.

  “Open your eyes, Lise,” he said in a heady whisper, “see what I see when I make love to you.”

  She did as he bade her, saw a woman breathlessly awaiting what he’d do next. She watched raptly, fascinated by the sight of him disappearing inside her. Then he pulled away, only to sink in even further. Again and again, unhurried though she felt him swelling within her. She moaned like a harlot as he pushed her to another crest and another higher still, until she could no longer breathe. “Take me, Eric. Please.”

  At her command, he lengthened his strokes, thrusting to the center of her. Lifting her as he did himself, meeting her at the peak as he flooded her with everything he was. Everything he would ever be.

  At once spent and filled with contentment, he stretched out on his back, savoring the feeling of her draped over him, her cheek pillowed on his shoulder. Taking her left hand in his, he pressed a kiss to each delicate fingertip, then to the smooth skin of her palm.

  “Lise, mon cœur. Je suis à vous.”

  “I am yours.” Her shy smile touched him deeply, unexpectedly. “’Tis a lovely thing to say.”

  “Before long, I’ll be saying it to my wife.”

  “I’ll very much enjoy hearing it.”

  Drawing her ear to his lips, he whispered a few more things he thought she’d enjoy.

  ***

  The entire castle was festive this night, Grant mused as he paused in his roaming to watch an amorous couple in the shadows. The maid’s blouse lay open to the waist, her lover too occupied with her voluptuous breasts to notice much else. They weren’t the lovers he sought but if his instincts were sound, he’d soon find another pair that would interest him greatly.

  The Redmond family apartments lined the wide upstairs corridors, but through the open doors he saw no one. Then he came upon a closed door with light shining out from underneath. The neighboring chamber was unlocked, and inside he found another door leading to the larger chamber. Pressing his ear to it, he listened intently. Nothing.

  Then he heard a splash, a deep voice answered by a peal of unmistakable laughter.

  Cautiously, he tested the door and found it locked. The frame didn’t fit tightly, and Grant peered through the crack into the lady’s chamber.

  At first he saw nothing but a jumble of clothes before a tall oval mirror. The elegantly draped tester bed was still neatly done, so he shifted position hoping to view the other side of the graciously appointed room.

  He nearly swallowed his tongue.

  Elisabeth stood in a steaming tub, blessedly naked. Before her knelt Eric Jordanne.

  His hands molded her luscious backside, his mouth gliding over her glistening skin to settle between her thighs. Her fingers tangled in his hair, she arched back and moaned deliciously. ’Twas the most erotic pose Grant had ever witnessed, and his entire body tightened with envy.

  Slowly, Jordanne stood as he mouthed a path up her stomach to her breasts. He lifted her in his arms, lowering her with a throaty groan. Flashing a siren’s smile, she began riding him with the practiced motion of a wicked equestrienne.

  Jordanne muttered in French, growling when she laughed. “’Twill be a short ride if you don’t stop.”

  “Then stop me.”

  She shrieked as he dropped her into the water. She came up sputtering, then a playful smile curved her lips. As she wrapped them around the cock of a stranger, Grant closed his eyes and backed away from the door.

  He’d seen enough.

  ***

  They both froze, staring at the door to her sitting room.

  With the grace of a stalking panther, Eric stepped over the high side of the tub and moved toward the mirror. Even as he drew the dagger from his boot, his eyes never left the innocent-looking door. ’Twas as if he expected it to burst from its hinges and attack him.

  Though it took him several strides to cross her chamber, she couldn’t hear his footfalls on the rug or the bare floor. He crept to the door, pressed his ear against it as he closed his eyes. Elisabeth stood motionless to avoid distracting him.

  He clasped the knife between his teeth and slowly slid the bolt open with his right hand, his left held ready to fend off whateve
r might come at him.

  Nothing did.

  “Someone was here.” Eric held his palm to the opposite side with a wry grin. “Breathing quite heavily.”

  “Watching us?”

  “One of your many admirers, no doubt.” He pulled the door closed and from the other side she heard a rumbling chuckle. “’Tis quite a view from here.”

  Laughing, she stepped from the tub. “Good, I’d hate for him to be disappointed. Then again,” she added as she retrieved her dressing gown, “it could have been any of the maids hoping for a look at you.”

  “No.” With his finger, he tapped the spot he’d told her felt warm. “None of them is so tall. This could only be caused by someone Christian’s height.”

  He bolted the outer door, then closed and locked the one that connected with her bedchamber.

  “Your library shouldn’t be left open,” he chided her gently. “’Tis not safe.”

  “Grant wanted to look through my new books. I asked him to lock it when he was finished.”

  “He must have forgotten.”

  It occurred to her that Grant’s forgetfulness was the least of their worries. “Someone saw us.”

  Eric’s eyes were fixed on her sitting room, and he didn’t seem to hear her. When Elisabeth touched his arm, he looked down at her. She repeated her concern, and he smiled, drawing her in for a kiss. “Fear not, milady. I’ll deny it to my dying breath.”

  “It doesn’t worry you that people will know we’ve been together?”

  “Why should it?” He ran a finger along her jaw and cradled her cheek in his palm. “Unless you’d prefer otherwise.”

  “Of course not. But if the person watching us is connected to the man trying to take me, being with me could put you in serious danger.”

  “Being with you always puts me in serious danger.” Grinning, he slid the robe from her shoulders and gathered her into his arms. “’Tis a risk I gladly take.”

  ***

  The next morning, Elisabeth was rudely awakened by a stomach that simply wouldn’t stop rolling. Eric rested a hand on her brow, his own furrowed with concern. “I feel no fever. Still, something is very wrong.”

  As the night had worn on, whatever was ailing her had gradually worsened, and her entire body ached as if she’d spent too long in the saddle.

  She held her hand over her mouth as another wave of nausea swept through her.

  “Damned cherries.” Eric rubbed her back while she retched into the chamber pot. “Perhaps your mother knows of something that will help. I’ll send Glenda to fetch her.”

  Elisabeth fell back into her pillows. “Thank you.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Do you still wish to marry me?”

  With a gentle smile, he smoothed the hair back from her damp forehead. “I was a knight. A little stomach malaise doesn’t frighten me.”

  Unexpected tears stung her eyes. “You’ve seen me at my very worst, haven’t you?”

  “And at your best. Those memories are part of you, and I’ll gladly take them all.”

  She laughed weakly. “Remind me to hide my poetry books.”

  Flashing her a shameless grin, he rose from her bed to pull on his clothes. She watched him splash water over his face and neck, comb wet fingers through his hair. The dark waves shone like ebony in the early morning sun.

  The sight of him brought fresh tears. How she loved him, this man who’d braved so much to keep her safe.

  “Eric?”

  He settled on the bed beside her and kissed her cheek. “Oui?”

  “I love you.”

  “And I love you. Now, get some rest. I’m going for a quick ride, and when I come back, I’ll speak to your father about my proposal. I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

  ***

  Paul watched for the tall knight as he’d been paid handsomely to do. He’d been told the man would be going riding this morn along the route where he’d secreted himself. The wood spirits that dwelt among the thick trees made Paul very uneasy. He felt them glowering at him as if they knew his purpose in being there.

  This duty, along with two dozen painful lashes, was punishment for his failure to restrain Lady Redmond properly when she was under his watch. Once, he’d thought his employer slightly unbalanced. Now he knew the man was completely mad, obsessed with the woman he called his treasure.

  When a man became entranced by a woman, it was time to quit his ranks. This would be Paul’s last mission, then he would disappear into the untamed Highlands to the north. He’d go without taking down Jordanne, but he knew his malevolent employer would hunt him like an animal should he leave his gruesome task undone.

  Thunderous hoof beats shook the ground beneath his feet, and Paul withdrew further into the camouflage of the thicket. He notched his arrow, the whisper of sound lost in the cool breeze that whispered through the boughs above him.

  He froze as Jordanne halted his destrier and twisted to look straight at him. The sharp blue eyes seemed to slice through the brush, and Paul mentally crossed himself with a silent prayer for cover. The horse pranced nervously, and the knight turned to stroke his mount’s flexing neck.

  Paul let the arrow fly, straight and true between his target’s shoulders. Sinking into the muscle, the tip lodged where it couldn’t be reached. The wound itself wasn’t fatal.

  But by the time someone pulled the arrow from him, Eric Jordanne would be dead.

  ***

  Through bleary eyes, Elisabeth saw her mother enter the bedchamber and close the door behind her.

  “I’m here, Elisabeth. Tell me.”

  “I’m dying.”

  Sarah laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Glenda said your stomach is unsettled.”

  “My stomach is empty,” Elisabeth corrected her grumpily. “I’ve retched ’til I ache.”

  “Hmm.” When she rested a hand over Elisabeth’s chest, the pressure made her wince. Again her mother said, “Hmm. Up with you, then.”

  Elisabeth struggled to sit, and the room spun wildly about her. Clinging to her mother, she swallowed a piteous whimper, grateful when she was allowed to lie prone. After poking and prodding a bit, Sarah sat back, a bemused expression on her face.

  “Never have I felt so horrid,” Elisabeth said. “I had cherries last night after dinner. Could they be doing this?”

  “No, ’tis not them.”

  “Then what?”

  “You’re not ill, my darling one.” Tears glistened in her eyes even as she smiled. “You’re with child.”

  Elisabeth gasped, her eyes widening in astonishment. “That’s impossible. I’m barren.”

  “It would seem you’re not as barren as we thought. I would guess you conceived sometime in mid-autumn.”

  Her first night with Eric, when she discovered the passion she’d long ago given up wishing for. Wrapped in joyful memories, she would never forget it.

  “Lise?” Her mother’s voice broke into her musing, and she looked into concerned hazel eyes. “Whose child is this?”

  “Eric’s, of course.”

  Her lips firmed into a worried line. “I feared as much. Will you be telling him?”

  “Of course. Why would I not?”

  “I think it best if you waited a bit longer.”

  The cautious tone made her wary, something she couldn’t recall ever being around the educated, straightforward woman who’d raised her. “Why?”

  “Your father will need time to absorb this.”

  Hoping to dispel the somber mood, Elisabeth laughed. “I’m about to bear him the grandchild he goes on and on about. He’ll be overjoyed. Beyond that, we plan to be married as quickly as possible. He can’t object to–”

  Mother’s horrified look stopped her in mid-sentence. “You cannot marry Eric Jordanne.”

  “Why ever not? He’s a fine man, and we truly love one another. He intends to buy a farm with the money he’s earned here. From the job Father hired him to do,” she added. />
  “I’m quite certain he didn’t anticipate you wedding the man.”

  “You taught me to think for myself, to make my own decisions about the course my life should take.”

  Sarah fussed with the bedcovers before giving her a rueful smile. “I wanted you to be independent so you’d not feel helpless as so many noblemen’s daughters do. In truth, your marriage to John broke my heart.”

  Elisabeth covered her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Robert asked me to do it, but the decision was mine. No one forced me to wed John. But I’ve done my duty for Scotland, and this time I’ll marry a man, not an ally.”

  “Eric.”

  “Eric,” she confirmed with a nod.

  Sarah was quiet for several moments, and Elisabeth waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts. “You must know why Grant Colton is here.”

  “He spoke with me yesterday. I declined his offer.”

  “Your father and I knew nothing of this. He thinks you and Grant intend to marry.”

  She ignored the twinge of remorse for causing her parents’ misunderstanding. If only she’d told them about Eric, none of this would have occurred. “He’s mistaken.”

  “The husband you’ve chosen isn’t Scottish,” Sarah reminded her.

  “You’re half-French, and Father didn’t give a fig about that.”

  “As your husband, Eric would gain control of your holdings,” she went on in a reasonable tone. “With conditions in the country so unstable, the king will never allow such a thing to happen.”

  “Divide my land among David, Brennan and Christian. I’ve no use for any of it.”

  Sarah eyed her with a combination of astonishment and respect. “You honestly wish to give up everything to marry this man?”

  Having expected to hear that very argument from her family, she’d devised a logical response. “I’d surrender it all to an abbey once I entered, but no one would object to that.”

  “I suppose.”

  Sensing imminent agreement, Elisabeth leaned forward earnestly. “Eric is all I’ve ever wanted. He’s strong and kind, and he adores me exactly as I am. He’ll be a wonderful husband to me, and no child could ask for a better father. I’m grateful that he wishes to share his life with me.”

  “Your father and I want only the best for you.” Sarah kissed her forehead as she rose from the bed. “When Eric returns, the four of us will have a nice, long talk.”