by Lynn Kurland
He kissed her.
And then he kissed her again.
By the third time his lips had come down on hers so softly, she had almost regained her wits enough to breathe. She stood there in his embrace, feeling exceedingly foolish, and examined the feel of Nicholas’s lips as they pressed against hers.
They were warm.
They were soft.
And then they were quite suddenly no longer there.
She opened her eyes in time to see Robin jerk Nicholas away and send him sprawling by means of a fist in the face. She stared at Nicholas as he rolled over and sat up, putting his finger to the corner of his mouth and looking at it as it came away bloody.
“Don’t do that again,” Robin growled.
Nicholas paused for a moment and then leaned back on his hands, slowly crossing his feet at the ankles. His lazy movements were geared, Anne knew, to irritate Robin as much as possible. Nicholas looked up at his brother tranquilly, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Anne had to admire his calm in the face of Robin’s considerable wrath.
“Why not?” Nicholas asked. “Does it bother you?”
Anne wished she had something heavy and damaging on hand to throw at Rhys’s second son.
Robin leaned down and jerked Nicholas up by the front of his tunic. “She’s not yours to kiss, damn you. Now, keep away from her.” He gave Nicholas a shove toward the hall. “I’ll see her inside.”
“She doesn’t need to walk any more, Robin,” Nicholas said, his gray eyes taking on the same glint Anne saw in Robin’s.
“She doesn’t want any help. She already told me so.”
Nicholas snorted. “Knowing you, you didn’t ask her the right way.”
“She bloody didn’t give me a chance to ask before she was telling me to go to hell!” Robin exclaimed.
Nicholas pushed Robin aside. Before Anne realized what he intended, he had scooped her up into his arms.
“She’s had enough, Robin,” Nicholas said firmly. “Go open the door.”
“Damn you, Nick—”
“The door, Robin.”
Anne watched Robin stomp up the steps, swearing furiously. He opened the door and left it open, disappearing inside the hall.
“Nicholas, I’m fine—”
“Be quiet,” Nicholas said with a smile. “Anne, you didn’t used to be this stubborn. Where in the world did you learn this unladylike trait?”
Anne smiled faintly. “From Amanda.”
Nicholas laughed. “I don’t doubt it for a moment. That girl is a terrible influence on you. I suppose it leaves me with no choice but to take on the task of rooting it from you.”
She looked at his mouth as he carried her up the steps. He had kissed her. Why wasn’t she trembling from head to toe? Nicholas was one of the most sought-after young knights in the realm. Not even Robin had so many women pursuing him, though that number interested her not at all. She should have been faint with joy that Nicholas had taken note of her. She looked at his face and studied the cut on his mouth.
“Does it hurt, Nicky?” she asked.
Nicholas winked at her as he shut the hall door with his foot. “Why? Thinking to ease my pain with another kiss?”
His head suddenly snapped back. Anne looked over his shoulder to see Robin with a fistful of his brother’s hair.
“Put her down,” he growled.
Nicholas jerked his head away. “You’re sounding rather possessive, brother.”
“Put her down.”
“Once I’m by the fire, I will.”
“Now, Nick.”
Nicholas sighed and gently set Anne on her feet. Then he whirled and took Robin down to the floor. Anne didn’t bother to watch them scuffle. If there was one thing in this world that could be counted on, it was that Robin and Nicholas would fight at least once a day. She had never seen two brothers closer, nor more ready to let fly a fist. Not even the youngest de Piaget brothers battled so often. She knew it wouldn’t last long. An hour from now, Robin and Nicholas would be laughing together, as if nothing had happened.
She avoided the battle now being waged in the rushes and made her way across the floor. She smiled when young Montgomery bounded over and hugged her.
“Put your arm around me, Anne, and let’s go over to the fire. How did you come by Robin’s cloak? ’Tis powerfully dirty, don’t you think? And it smells. I’ll wager you can’t wait to have it off you.”
Anne leaned on Montgomery as he helped her across the floor, grateful for his aid. But she couldn’t agree with him about Robin’s cloak. It might have been dirty and it might have not smelled terribly fresh, but it was something he’d given her for her comfort.
The ring of swords startled her and she turned around to see what they augured. Robin and Nicholas were now taking blades to each other with great enthusiasm. Anne sincerely hoped Robin didn’t cut his brother to ribbons.
“By the saints, take your quarrel outside, you fools!” Amanda shouted from where she sat near the hearth. “You’re giving me pains in my head with your idiocy!”
Much cursing and many foul insults accompanied the pair out the hall door. Anne sat down before the fire, swathed in Robin’s cloak, and wondered if she had the intellect equal to ferreting out the truth of what had just happened.
Nicholas had just kissed her.
Robin was furious over the fact.
And now they had departed outside to settle the matter with swords.
Anne put her face in her hands and started to laugh. It was the very last thing she would have anticipated for the middle of her day. She could hardly wait to see what the evening would bring.
It likely couldn’t equal what she’d just experienced.
7
Robin sat back in his chair and fingered his goblet of wine. The family had sought refuge in the lord��s solar, as was often their custom in the evenings. Robin was glad of it, for he was unsettled in his mind and he wanted none of the garrison knights watching to see what ailed him. At least he wouldn’t have to confront Baldwin of Sedgwick. Rhys had sent Sedgwick off on an errand a few days earlier and he wasn’t expected back for at least a se’nnight. Robin couldn’t help but be relieved. Now, at least, the first meeting after so many years would come when he was prepared for it. He fully intended for it to end badly for his enemy.
Robin drank deeply and tried to let the wine soothe him. Tonight, unlike other nights, there was no minstrel to entertain them, nor any visiting noblemen to bring news from other corners of the isle. The entertaining of the family fell to Robin. He had begun the tale of his travels, but had found it difficult to keep to the thread of the story. His mood was fouled and he had finally bid Nicholas in curt tones to take over the exercise.
He knew the precise reason for his foulness. Damn Nicholas for being the first to steal a sweet kiss from Anne’s lips! Robin was passing certain she’d never been kissed before, if the look on her face had been any indication. Robin had been so stunned by his brother’s boldness, he’d merely stood there and gaped. He couldn’t tell if the kiss had pleased Anne or not.
It wasn’t actually something he was interested in learning the truth of.
He stole a look at Anne and forced himself to breathe normally. Saints, she had changed! His first sight of her in the chapel had not shown him the extent of the transformation. When he had left five years earlier, Anne had been a plain, unlovely waif of ten-and-four. The Anne who sat across the circle from him was not the same girl.
Robin took a long draught of wine and then put the cup away. He leaned back in the shadows and let his eyes feast on the beauty before him. His father had always said one day Anne would blossom, but he had never believed it. Obviously his father had been right.
She sat in the chair next to Nicholas with her good leg tucked up under her. Robin could conjure up hundreds of memories of Anne in the same position, listening to the Fitzgerald brothers tell their gory tales of battle, minstrels singing praises to his mother’s beauty, j
ongleurs performing their antics to amuse the family.
Gone was the homely little girl who had hugged her knee and watched the goings-on with bright green eyes. In her place was a woman full grown. Her head was uncovered and the firelight flickered over her pale hair. One slender hand rested on her knee, her long fingers absently worrying the fold of her gown. Her left hand rested on the arm of the chair and Robin frowned. Her hand was too damn close to Nicholas’s. His eyes flicked to his brother’s and his scowl only earned him a grin in return before Nicholas continued on with his story.
Anne shifted in her chair and Robin’s gaze was drawn to the way her long hair fell over her shoulder and down. With an effort he forced his eyes up past her flawless throat to her lips. They were slightly parted and he had the most overpowering desire to jerk her out of her chair and capture her lips with his own, just to see if they tasted as sweet as they looked.
She began to chew on her lip and the movement startled him into meeting her eyes. He stiffened as he realized he had been caught staring. She didn’t smile, which made him think that perhaps she thought him as big a fool as he was. He rose abruptly, giving her the fiercest frown he was capable of. Damn her if she thought to laugh at him.
He bid his family a curt good-night and strode stiffly up the stairs. He walked all the way up to the battlements, feeling the need of a great amount of fresh air to clear his head. He never should have come home. If he’d just had the good sense to remain on the continent, he would have been perfectly content and happy. And now look. He was letting a slip of a girl ruin his night and make mincemeat of his heart.
As he leaned against the wall, the stiff wind blowing in from the sea cooled his passions. He shivered and then shook his head in disbelief. What was he doing? What did he care what Anne of Fenwyck thought? She could laugh at him all she liked. She was too prickly and disagreeable for his taste. And though she might have filled out a bit, she was still too frail. He liked a woman with a bit more to her, a woman who was lusty in bed and who made herself scarce out of it.
It was several minutes later that he finally made his way back down the stairs. What he needed was a good tumble. Perhaps he’d hie himself down to the kitchens, find himself the first attractive serving wench available, and take her right there. Maybe he’d line up five or six of them and find relief from his torment. Relief from Anne.
But it wasn’t to the kitchens that his feet led him so unerringly. He found himself in front of the chamber he shared with his brothers, and he relented with a sigh. So he was going to be as incapable of taking a woman tonight as he had been for months. It was hardly surprising.
He entered the chamber and lit a candle. He had a brief moment alone and there was little reason not to take advantage of it. He rummaged through his gear until he found what he was looking for. Taking his candle and his treasure, he retreated to the alcove and made himself comfortable on one of the stone benches there. He set the candle down, then took the box on his lap.
It contained his most precious possessions and there was not a time that he did not have it nearby. He opened it and examined what was contained therein.
There was the letter his mother had written him before he had been knighted, the crested ring his father had given him as he went off to war, and a gem which had been handed down from father to son for generations in the de Piaget family. Rhys had wanted Robin to bind the stone into a sword but Robin had never been able to bring himself to do it. He suspected there would come a time when he would wish to give the gem to his firstborn son. The thought of such a time gave him pause. A son. Now, that would be a thing to be proud of.
He fingered the four ribbons embroidered with his crest and then pushed them aside. They were dear to him, but not what he sought that night. From the depths of the box he pulled what he was looking for. He unwrapped the cloth surrounding it and held it up to the light.
The gold was so pale as to almost be white. It reminded him sharply of her hair. The paleness of the emerald did not do justice to her eyes, but it came damn close. He slid the ring onto the tip of his little finger and put his hand over his heart. Had Nicholas known of this foolishness, he would have laughed himself to death.
Then again, perhaps not. Nicholas was giddy enough to find the idea romantic. Robin was practical enough to find the idea idiotic. She would never wear his ring. She would laugh in his face.
Or perhaps she would accept him.
At the moment, he wasn’t sure what would be worse.
Nay, the laughter would be worse. In his youth, he wouldn’t have given that another thought. But that was before being laughed at became something he avoided at all costs. After the first time, he swore he would never be humiliated like that again. It was amazing how such a simple event in childhood could become such a heaviness in the heart of a man full grown.
Nay, she would have no chance to scorn him because he wouldn’t come within twenty paces of her.
Besides, he had no tender feelings for her anyway. She was trouble embodied, trouble for his heart, and trouble for his peace of mind. He had never loved her and he never would.
The door opened suddenly and Robin jerked in surprise. Damn, this was all he needed to make his evening of misery complete.
“Robin, are you in here?” Nicholas asked. “Mother feared you were unwell.”
Robin shoved everything back in the wooden box and slammed the lid shut before Nicholas could see. He glared at his brother who stood near the doorway.
“There is nothing amiss with me,” he said tightly. “I did but need a bit of peace from your witless babbling.”
Nicholas bowed. “Of course, my lord. Now I can happily inform Mother that you are not ill, but merely mooning.”
“I am not mooning!”
Nicholas only laughed as he turned and left the chamber. Robin would have followed his brother to beat him senseless, but he’d already taken his exercise of Nicholas that afternoon. That added to the weariness of traveling was likely enough for the day.
One thing was for certain, he wasn’t about to expose his poor heart to the torments that might await it in his father’s solar. He was momentarily tempted to see if any of his lads might be willing to visit the lists with him, then he discarded that idea as well. ’Twas late and what would serve him best was to be abed.
A pity he already could imagine his tossings and turnings and how those might lead to speculation by his brothers.
He leaned back against the wall and stared into the dimly lit chamber. He’d suspected coming home would be difficult. He’d never imagined what would await him here.
Though wasn’t that why he’d had the ring made for her?
He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. And he thought Nicholas was the one awash in romance!
Robin rose, put his treasure away, then put himself to bed. What he needed was a satisfying night’s sleep and then a goodly bit of training on the morn. Perhaps he would inspect his father’s garrison and see if he couldn’t dispatch them all before noon. It was a worthy goal and one easily within his power to accomplish.
And it was something he could understand. This business of love and romance and a heart that pounded uncomfortably at the merest thought of a certain woman was not for him. If he were to find himself swooning, it would be because of a full day’s labor in the hot sun, not because Anne had deigned to glance his way. Should his stomach be unsettled, better it be from a questionable bit of fowl than fear she would wed with someone else. And should he weep, better that it be tears of victory over a foe well vanquished. He had no intention of shedding any over a girl who had suffered one of the worst injuries he’d ever been privy to, yet pressed on with the courage any of his men would have been proud to call his own.
He snorted. Courage? Nay, ’twas stubbornness that drove her, and a perverse desire to see him miserable. Aye, that he was certain of.
How she managed to do the like with so little effort on her part was something of a mystery, but one he had no de
sire to investigate further.
Nay, the lists were the place for him and he would be there as soon as the sun cooperated in the morn and his father’s men could be persuaded to indulge him. Far better to face things he could understand and best than to try to unravel the mysteries of womanhood.
Robin rolled over, pulled the blankets over his head, and prepared to dream of war and bloodshed. It was much safer than the alternative.
8
Anne woke to find a very dim light trying to push its way through the bed curtains. Movement was beyond her at the moment so she simply snuggled deeper into the covers and put off the moment when she would have to leave the comforting warmth. There was no other sound in the chamber, so she assumed Amanda and Isabelle had already braved the chill to begin their days. For once, Anne didn’t take issue with having been let sleep. Who knew how many more such mornings she might have to dawdle at her leisure? Soon enough she would rise and cloister herself in Gwen’s solar with her ladies. There was sewing to be done, fine stitches for decoration to be wrought, and many other things with which to occupy her mind. At least she would have no trouble from her father that day and she had Rhys to thank for that.
Just the night before, when Geoffrey had arrived in Rhys’s solar and begun speaking loudly of their impending return to Fenwyck, Rhys had begun tempting him with thoughts of a hunt. Miles amused himself by raising a kennel of hounds, and Anne knew their lure would be a powerful one for her father. Rhys had declared firmly that it would take at least a se’nnight to prepare and who knew how long to enjoy the outing. When she’d realized she had perhaps a fortnight’s more grace, she had retired to her chamber and fair jumped for the joy of it. It wasn’t as long as she would have liked, but perhaps Rhys could convince her sire of something else in time. This reprieve was enough.
But that didn’t mean she was going to take unnecessary risks in encountering her father. Nay, ’twas best she seek something to eat, then retire to Gwen’s solar. That might also spare her any unsavoury encounters with the other soul she fully intended to avoid—though she imagined he would be just as busy avoiding her.
