She faced him without a hint of fear. “Be that as it may, you have broken the peace of this place to attack a man who meant you no harm.”
Owain took a step closer to her, raising his fist in threat.
Stephen felt fury such as he had never known reach out and take him in its grip. Hard upon it came a flash flood of strength that flowed into his veins, washing away any hint of weakness.
Eyes dark with rage, Stephen rose and placed his hand on her shoulder. Fellis did not look around as she continued to face the large burly Welshman without flinching.
He rested his other hand on the hilt of his sword. Stephen spoke in a voice made more threatening by the very controlled rage behind it. “Touch her and you shall never raise that hand again.”
Even as he watched Owain swing away after a moment with a growl of rage, Stephen knew he dared not allow himself to think on the depth of his fury. Or what it might mean.
With Owain’s retreat from confrontation, the rest of the crowd seemed to have lost their thirst for a fight. They stood silent, none of them meeting his gaze as he cast a glare over them.
Then he turned back to Fellis, thinking only that he must get her away before there was more risk to her safety. Gently but possessively Stephen drew her back against him. “Come.”
She faced him, her eyes searching his even as she tried to reach up to feel his head once again. “Are you well, my lord?”
“Aye,” Stephen said, her concern causing a sweet tenderness to rise up inside him. Uncaring of what anyone else might think, he reached down and swung her up into his arms without effort. “I am fine.”
Fellis gave a gasp of surprise even as he started down the path to the edge of town.
Stephen paid no heed, only knowing that he need see her away with all possible haste. He was hard-pressed not to cuddle her against his chest as his instincts bid him, to claim her as his woman before all and sundry. What a prize she was, this fiery little Fellis.
At this moment it was near impossible for Stephen to care for anything save having her close to him.
Stephen halted only when they came to a small orchard at the edge of the market town. He moved in amongst the trees and leaned against one of the trunks as he buried his face in the silken tumble of her hair.
Fellis made not a sound as he held her close. And after a time, Stephen was moved to speak, his voice husky with emotion. “Why did you not run?”
She continued to hold her head against his chest, not looking at him. “I could not leave you.”
“I was in no danger,” he told her gruffly, finally letting her slide down to stand on her feet. But he did not remove his arms from around her.
She looked up at him then, her blue eyes wide. “It did not appear so to me.” Fellis shook her head, not breaking the contact of their gazes. “I do not know what came over me. I was so angry that I did not stop to ponder my actions. I only knew that I could not leave you to face them alone.” She halted, her blue eyes misting as she looked up at him.
Her silver hair was spread around her like a cloak, hanging like spun silk to her knees. So often Stephen had longed to see it this way again.
He reached out a hand and ran it softly over the tresses that reminded him of moonbeams. To his surprise he saw his hand was trembling and he was powerless to stop it.
She sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned into his hand. “Oh, Stephen.” Her mouth parted and her breast rose more quickly with each breath she took.
His eyes came to rest on those sweetly curved lips, lips he had been ofttimes tempted to kiss.
From the moment he had seen Fellis he had known that he wanted her, and now he had no will to resist his own desire. He lowered his mouth to hers, brushing that delicate flesh with his own. She was so soft, so warm. He kissed her more fully, fitting his mouth to hers, his lips opening when she returned the pressure.
Stephen felt the familiar tightening in his lower belly. A pleasant heaviness grew in his arms, which he drew more tightly around her as he urged her mouth to open with his tongue.
She made no protest, simply pressing herself more fully against him as she opened to him. Inside she was damp and luscious as warm custard. Her tongue slid along his, and he groaned deep in his throat. Stephen arched against her, unable to control his body’s urgent response to her.
She only held onto him more tightly, her hands gripping the front of his tunic more urgently.
God in heaven, he wanted her. And knew she wanted him. There was no mistaking the way she reacted to their kisses. Her slender form was molded so closely to his that his head swam with the feel and delicate woman smell of her.
He knew he had to stop.
With a force of will he had not known he possessed, Stephen drew back, pulling her head down to his shoulder. “Fellis, Fellis, we must not.”
She looked up at him in confusion, her eyes dark as cobalt. “Stephen, what mustn’t we do? I feel so…I do not understand what is happening to me.”
This finally brought him to his senses. She was completely innocent of what had just occurred. Only Stephen knew where these kisses could lead.
And down that path was utter ruin for her. He could not allow that to happen.
Stephen held her away from him. “Fellis, what just happened here was a terrible mistake. We must find your father’s men and return to Malvern.”
She frowned up at him, her eyes clearing slowly. “A mistake?”
He looked away from her, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “Aye, and we must take every care that it does not happen again.”
Her voice was rife with confusion as she stiffened. “What are you saying?”
He looked down at her then, forcing himself to face her without showing any of the tumult of emotion inside him. “I am saying that we both overreacted to what happened in the town just now. I was frightened for you and you for me. It made us behave in a way that was completely inappropriate.”
When she did not reply he went on. “For God’s sake, Fellis, you are to be married soon. What I just did was inexcusable. Surely you can see that.” His own disgust at himself for forgetting made him sound more angry than he intended.
She started as if he had slapped her and jerked away from him, turning her face. “I see, as ever we must remember my coming marriage.”
“We must,” Stephen replied. He knew that the determination in his voice was brought on by a drastic need to keep his distance. He had no right to touch Fellis, no matter how it pained him to admit it.
She took a deep breath. “So be it.” Without another word, Fellis started back through the orchard. He watched her stride away from him, her back rigid with resentment and hurt.
Deep inside he desired to call her back, to tell her he was sorry. But he could not do that. It was better for her to be angry with him and remain at arm’s length than have what just occurred happen again.
For Stephen was not sure he would have the strength to turn her away again. The line between his duty and his emotions was growing less clear as the days passed.
In all honesty Stephen had to face the truth that his noble action in halting their kisses had very little to do with the fact that Fellis should not be besmirched as the future wife of an important ally to the crown. It had more to do with his not wanting any hurt to come to her. And that realization brought him only turmoil.
Chapter Nine
Over the course of the next days Fellis found it far easier to avoid Stephen than she would have dared hope.
During the long ride from Glenmarket, she’d been able to think of little save getting home. And away from Stephen Clayburn.
When she finally located her father’s men, she had known he was right behind her. Thankfully he’d said not one word to her. Stephen had simply gone about readying them for the return journey to Malvern. Even when he had sent one of the men back to fetch the horse he had bought for her, he’d not so much as looked at Fellis, a fact that had eventually begun to irritate her however irrational
it might be.
She felt almost as if she were the one at fault. In her heart of hearts, possibly she knew that she was. Hadn’t she secretly longed for what had just occurred.
Stephen might believe the kiss had been brought on by a reaction to the threat they had faced together. Fellis knew differently. Thus the shame must be her own. She had wanted him to kiss her, wanted it more than anything in her life.
When he’d taken her in his arms, she’d lost all thought of anything besides the pounding in her blood, the honeyed sweetness that rose up in her belly. Stephen’s lips had been so sure, so supple. Her nights since had been filled with the memory of the touch and taste and feel of him.
This very afternoon, a full week later, Fellis could not stop thinking about what had happened that day. As she stood looking down at her mother’s head, where she knelt measuring the hem of yet another new cote, she wondered what Mary Grayson would say about the thoughts that heated Fellis’s pale cheeks even now.
In shame and frustration, she wiped a hand across her furrowed brow.
“Mary, you must see that the child is exhausted.” Her grandmother’s chiding voice came from the bed. Fellis looked over at the dainty little woman who was propped against the pillows. With the warm weather had come a decided improvement in the elderly lady’s health. Fellis was warmed by the love that shone from the blue eyes that met her own, but she was surprised at what Myrian said next. “Let her go out and ride that new mare she’s told me about. ’Tis not right to have it cooped up in the stables, nor Fellis here in the keep on such a lovely day.” She indicated the cloudless blue sky that was visible through the open window.
Mary Grayson looked up from the hem of the samite cote that perfectly reflected the color of that summer sky. “Tired is she. Fellis has done little but stand while garments are fitted to her since she came back from Glenmarket a week gone. And please do not even mention that animal. Were Richard not a fool, he would have sent it back to the thief who sold it.” She rolled her eyes heavenward to emphasize her point.
Fellis grimaced. When her father saw the horse Stephen had purchased for Fellis, he insisted on paying for it himself. On learning of the gift her mother had made her disapproval most clear.
Yet Fellis was grateful that her father had chosen to give her the horse. Only then had she felt free to accept the animal as her own. On realizing the animal was indeed hers to keep, Fellis had promptly given her the name Ebony, remembering the way Stephen had called her an ebony beauty.
If she was honest with herself, she knew in the days after Stephen had accomplished his purpose and gone back to his own life the mare would remain special to her. For in spite of all that had passed between them afterward, he had made her feel different that day he purchased the horse. He made her feel like a woman.
Fellis looked out the open window with longing. “May I go out, Mother. Ebony does need the exercise.”
Mary looked more closely at her daughter’s face in surprise. “It is the first time I’ve ever heard you question me, Fellis. Do not tell me you are grown too full of yourself to wait on your mother’s pleasure.”
Fellis flushed and did not meet her mother’s eyes. “Nay, Mother, I meant no disrespect.” Then with an unusual show of spirit she raised her head high. “I only sought to go out for a short time. And, truly, how am I ever to become more accustomed to riding, if I do not ride?” She held up her hands. “I’ve hardly seen the mare since Father bought her and ’twould be a great waste of her price to leave her unridden.”
“Go then,” Mary said in a tone of flat disapproval. “I am finished here for the moment.” Without looking at her daughter, she began to gather up her sewing accessories.
Hurriedly Fellis removed the gown and drew on an old one. She bent and pressed a grateful kiss to her grandmother’s soft cheek. She whispered, “You have my thanks.”
As Fellis headed for the door, her mother stopped her, and for a moment Fellis feared she might have changed her mind. She was not sure she would be able to bring herself so far as to openly disobey, but she felt as if she would go mad if she was cooped up here for one more minute.
But all her mother said was, “Mind that you are back here ere long.” She indicated the stack of brilliant and beautiful fabrics that littered every surface except the bed. “All this waste is for your benefit alone.” Her lips thinned. “Your father has assured me that he feels you have need of such luxuries even if the marriage does not come about. Which it will not. And I can only meet such foolishness with bewilderment, knowing how you will have no use for such finery once you enter the abbey. But the task has been undertaken and you must be willing to at least allow yourself to be fitted for the garments.” The last was said with raised eyebrows.
Fellis felt herself balk at the unfairness of her mother’s disdain. And from somewhere inside herself she felt rebellion surface. She raised her head high. “Mother, however respectfully, I must disagree with you. Sir Stephen does believe the marriage will take place, and I can only think that he has some reason for such certainty. He is the one who met with Wynn. And let me also say that unless Wynn refuses, we will have no choice. Father holds these lands only by royal decree. He cannot, even to please you, refuse the wishes of King Edward.”
Her mother only watched her in mute horror, then she said, “Fellis, never did I think to hear you speak so to me.”
Fellis felt her defiance leave her, to be replaced by regret, regret that her mother could not unbend from her stance even now. She spoke gently. “Mother, please, I do love and respect you. I have no wish to hurt you. I want only for you to see that I am a woman now and must face my fate without childish fantasy.”
Mary Grayson said nothing. She only stood staring as if Fellis were a stranger.
Unable to bear the aggrieved expression in her mother’s eyes, Fellis turned and left. She pushed the problems with her mother to the back of her mind. They were not likely to be solved this day. She hurried to the stables and, as she did so wondered what Stephen Clayburn was about.
Since the day they had returned from Glenmarket she had seen him only at a distance. He seemed to have attached himself to her father and she had seen them ride from the keep together this very morning. What interest the knight could have in the daily running of her father’s lands Fellis had no notion. But she was grateful for his absence.
Stephen had assured her that the mare would be gentle enough to act as mount to her. Fellis did not stop to even question why she had such faith in his judgment. She simply did.
And true to what he had said, Ebony was the epitome of obedient horseflesh as Fellis mounted and rode her slowly around the courtyard. The horse’s complete compliance soon led Fellis to decide she was ready for more.
Like the first time she’d ridden a horse, Fellis was conscious of a complete sense of freedom upon Ebony’s broad back. Here she was no longer forced to be cautious in her movements to keep from appearing awkward. She could trust in the mare’s sure feet to take her where she would go.
There was no telling when her mother would agree to another riding session and Fellis meant to enjoy this one. So thinking, she told a wide-eyed Thad where she was going.
He nodded quite sagely for a twelve-year-old and said, “You are doing right well, my Lady Fellis. Who would have thought it?”
His comment only served to boost her confidence further and she held her head high as she made her way from the keep.
Fellis wondered what Stephen would think of her now, mounted on this fine mare. Surely no court lady would have a better mount than the black beauty beneath her.
That thought halted Fellis in her tracks.
Whatever was wrong with her. There was no way she could even hope to compete with such women. She was as nothing to those women of the world who knew all about luring and keeping a man. Did such a female want Stephen Clayburn, she would surely know how to show him without disgusting him with her uncontrolled passion as Fellis had.
For a
moment the knowledge was grating.
Then she straightened her shoulders as pride came to her rescue. Though it was near impossible to set her feelings for Stephen aside, they were far too complicated for her to understand or define.
That day in the market town when she had gone to his defense it had been purely on instinct. She’d given no thought to the wisdom of her actions.
Stephen had come to her rescue, facing the Welshman down with great courage even though he’d have been severely outnumbered had the crowd chosen to attack him. She’d been filled with pride and awe in him.
Fellis had been even more swept away by her feelings when he’d taken her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing more than a child. He’d held her with a care and tenderness that had been clearly communicated to her.
She had felt the same toward him, not even questioning the feelings they shared. Simply knowing they were there had seemed enough at the time.
When he’d stopped to rest in the orchard she had not known what was to happen. Not until Stephen had looked into her eyes. And then…
She blushed even now, prodding Ebony forward. Why must she keep thinking on this? ’Twas only madness to do so.
What had gone between herself and Stephen could make no difference to her. It mattered not in the least what Stephen thought of her. It was of Wynn she must think, him whom she must hope to please. He was the one who should look on her with favor.
If he ever contacted them.
Fellis refused to allow herself to even think about how she might actually feel if that eventuality finally came about.
But in truth, no matter what she tried to tell herself, everything palled in comparison to the way she felt about Stephen Clayburn.
Fellis rode on unmindful of her direction or the passage of time.
Stephen dismounted and handed the reins of his stallion to Thad. He had returned to the keep alone as Lord Richard had asked him. The request had been made very politely and the knight had not taken offense, as he could see that the village steward had some private business to discuss with his master.
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