Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03

by Heart of the Dragon

  If he could keep his legs off the bed, Ian thought, he just might survive this torture without robbing Lily of her virtue.

  Though it would be a near thing. He desired her more than he’d ever wanted any other woman in his life.

  Her hands were never still. She touched him constantly, running her fingertips through his haft and along the edge of his jaw, nibbling at his lips. She managed to untie the neckline of his shirt without his noticing until she ran her fingers through the haft on his chest.

  Why did she permit him to kiss her so passionately?

  And why was she practically undressing him? She had to know where this would lead.

  Even if she didn’t, he did.

  He broke off the kiss, lingering over it, reluctant for it to end. But this time, he resolved, this time they’d go from passion to reason without anger or hurt feelings.

  Eventually.

  “You smell so sweet,” he murmured.

  “Like flowers.”

  “Lilies,” she whispered.

  “I love the scent of Lily.” And he did–-even better than flowers. He nuzzled the soft skin below her ear, making her shiver.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Yes.” She sighed.

  “Can’t you tell?”

  “Aye. But I like to hear you tell me what you like.”

  Her eyes looked huge.

  “Tell you?” A tide of pink swept up her neck and into her cheeks.

  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “I wish—” The door creaked open, accompanied by the sound of Catrin singing. Ian grabbed the edge of the sheet and yanked it over Lily’s body, pulling so hard it came un-tucked.

  Catrin tripped over his boots and tumbled to the floor.

  She sat up, cursing, and tossed a boot aside.

  “What are you doing bereT’ she demanded.

  “Lily, is he forcing his attentions on you? For if he is, I’ll set Nicholas after him-No, I’ll take care of him myself.”

  She got up off the floor and straightened her bliaut, indignation written in her face and stance.

  “She’s a decent lady, Ian. I’ll thank you to—” “Have done, Catrin.” He remained kneeling on the far side of the bed, though he would have preferred to stand.

  However, that might prove embarrassing—to Lily, at least. His body hadn’t recovered from her kisses. And he knew that despite his sister’s protestations, nothing much shocked her. This was for Lily’s benefit, not his.

  He chuckled.

  “Is this turnabout on purpose? It seems to me that I walked in on you and Nicholas once. And you were doing a hell of a lot more than kissing, if I recall correctly.” He stroked his fingers along Lily’s flushed cheek. Catrin’s face was nearly as red, he noted.

  “At least I had the decency to knock first. Can you say the same?”

  Lily gently pushed his hand aside and sat up, tugging the sheet with her when she got off the bed.

  “I’m sure she never expected to find you here, Ian.” Her eyes downcast, her face still delightfully pink, she picked up a robe from the foot of the bed and slipped it on, tying the belt before she turned toward him.

  “I was surprised to find you here,” she admitted.

  Catrin stood watching them for a moment, then picked up his boots and held them out to him. Seeing no help for it, he took them and slipped them on.

  “Lily and I have things to do,” she told him.

  “I’m certain you can find some way to occupy yourself until dinner. Nicholas is waiting for you in the hall, I believe, if you’d care to join him.”

  It seemed she had the morning mapped out—for each of them.

  “Anything else?” he asked dryly.

  “Am I permitted to dress, or eat, before I take up my agenda?”

  “Yes, milord Dragon,” Catrin said, with a laugh and a formal curtsy. She turned to Lily.

  “You cannot allow him to go his own way too often. He becomes unbearable, awestruck by his own power.”

  He returned to Lily’s side and laid his hand on her arm.

  “Don’t let her bully you,” he warned. He bent and kissed her softly on the lips.

  “She knows all about how power can corrupt, believe me.” Scowling at his sister, he sent her a mocking salute.

  “Until dinner,” he said as he left the room.

  As soon as Ian left, Lady Catrin began to bustle about the chamber, a fact that Lily appreciated greatly. It gave her an opportunity to collect herself.

  She’d been mortified when Lady Catrin entered the room and caught them. Her face still felt as though it were on fire. She didn’t know how Ian could be so calm, so quickly. Perhaps he’d had practice, she thought with a frown.

  “I trust it’s not my brother who displeases you,” Lady Catrin said, placing a bliaut and under tunic on the rumpled bed.

  “You must not take our taunting and teasing to heart. My brother is very dear to me, though he doesn’t like me to show it. We snipe and jape, but it means naught.”

  “I understand,” Lily said. But she wasn’t certain she did. Such experience was far beyond her ken. She hadn’t spent any time with people her own age. All she knew was the more impersonal, formalized ritual of the abbey.

  “Tell me of your life at Saint Winifred’s.”

  “There’s very little to tell, milady.”

  “Please, call me Catrin. We are cousins, after all. And who knows, perhaps we might someday be more,” Catrin said with an odd smile. Lily wasn’t certain what she meant, so she smiled in return.

  “Though I never intended to join the nuns, still my life at the abbey was very structured. It was an endless series of days, each like the one before.” She finally felt comfortable enough to take a seat on the bed.

  “I’ve had more excitement in the weeks since I left than I had in the eighteen years I lived there.”

  “You must have been desperate, to leave the abbey on your own. You were fortunate to have made it to Dolwyddelan safely.

  “Tis a dangerous world for a woman traveling alone.” She looked away for a moment, her face sad. ““Tis dangerous for anyone.”

  Lily didn’t know what to say in response.

  “Everywhere I went, people were kind. Of course, I wore a novice’s habit for most of my journey. Evidently nuns don’t make very good victims, since they have nothing to steal.”

  “Weren’t you concerned some man might try to steal your virtue?”

  Lily had to laugh at that.

  “Milady, the only man who has even come close to trying is the Dragon. And he is too decent to take what he knows he should not have.”

  Catrin snorted.

  “If you allow him into your chamber as you did this morn, your virtue won’t last much longer.

  He’s a man of deep passions, though from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t usually pay much attention to that appetite,” she said frankly.

  Eager to change the subject, Lily picked up the lovely dark green under tunic but she hesitated. She wasn’t used to dressing in front of anyone.

  “Let me help you,” Catrin offered.

  “Sometimes the lacing can be difficult.”

  ““Tis not necessary. I’m used to doing for myself.”

  Indeed, the idea of having servants—or anyone—help her with such basic tasks seemed foreign to her. But then, nearly everything about life in the outside world seemed strange.

  Catlin sat down beside her on the bed.

  “You’re not an anonymous boarder at Saint Winifred’s any longer, Lily.

  You are the daughter of two noble families. As such, you must become accustomed to servants. You’ll find that there are any number of duties and obligations to go along with the benefits of our station. One of those duties is to provide work for our dependents.” She picked up the undermnic.

  “I came to help you today, instead of sending a maid, because I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with a servant’s help. But that will change, I a
m certain.”

  What objection could she raise? Lily appreciated Cat-fin’s consideration. It would be churlish to refuse her help.

  Lily slipped out of the robe and allowed Catrin to assist her into the under tunic and bliaut.

  “You’re fight,” she admitted once she saw the laces running from armpit to hip on each side of the bliaut.

  “I’d never be able to lace this up myself. The clothes I wore at the abbey weren’t so complicated.”

  Her life hadn’t been so complicated, she thought later in the day. She had accompanied Catlin as she attended to her morning duties. She couldn’t help but be amazed at the number and variety of the details Catrin was responsible for. After visiting the kitchen and the infirmary, and inspecting the weaving, they’d met with the priest.

  All before midday.

  And Catrin had said they had far more to do in the afternoon.

  The faster pace at Ashby frightened her. Was this how a noblewoman lived? Abbey life had not prepared her, but then, why would they have expected that she’d ever need to know how to manage a household such as this?

  Although she was surprised Llywelyn hadn’t planned for that, as well.

  They joined the others in the great hall as the gong called everyone to dinner. Seated at the high table between Ian and Lord Nicholas, Lily felt as though all eyes were upon her.

  As Ian handed her the wine goblet they would share, she asked, “Is it always like this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does everyone always stare?” She glanced up from their trencher.

  “They’ll likely stop, once they’re used to you.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

  “Did it ever occur to you that they might be staring because you’re beautiful?”

  “Me?” She met his gaze.

  “Do you think so?”

  Was she blind? The Norman style of dress, with its tightly laced over tunic and gauzy veil, became her well.

  The dark and light green silks brought out the reddish tints in her braided hair, and intensified the green of her eyes.

  But the image that clung to his mind was the way she’d looked this morning. Her hair spread out over the pillows, her silk shift slipping off one lovely soft shoulder… He picked up the goblet and drained the wine, hoping to cool his ardor. However, that wasn’t likely to happen with Lily seated at his side, smelling of flowers and smiling at him.

  By the time the meal was over, Ian feared he’d not be able to stand without embarrassing himself. Simply listening to the soft murmur of Lily’s voice as she answered Nicholas’s questions kept the fire in his blood simmering.

  Perhaps ‘twas time for this interlude to end.

  They couldn’t stay here. He doubted there would be any danger from Llywelyn, but it was a chance he’d rather not take. Especially since he’d learned that Catrin was carrying her first child.

  The thought filled him with joy. For so long, her life had been dark with pain, until Nicholas had brought her into the light of happiness. For that alone, Ian would have liked the Norman lord.

  “Twas good fortune, indeed, that Talbot had turned out to be a man he could both like and respect.

  He’d not repay them by putting their lives and their home in jeopardy.

  Once again Nicholas had brought up the subject of marriage.

  “She’s beautiful, desirable, intelligent-What more could you wish for in a wife? And you’d be protecting her—and her sister.”

  Ian could see the benefit in it, to everyone else, but the person who might benefit least was Lily. He might be wrong about Llywelyn’s intentions. Perhaps Lily could find a husband who would be to her liking and Llywelyn’s,

  And Nicholas might be wrong about Lily’s feelings for him.

  She desired him, to some extent. But as ignorant as she was regarding men and women, she might not recognize those feelings for what they were. She might, as many women tended to do, believe that lust was something more, the courtly love the French blathered on about.

  How could he ask her to share his life, when he didn’t know what that meant anymore? Depending on the degree of Llywelyn’s anger with him, he might not have a life to offer her.

  He took her hand in his to help her up from the bench.

  “Will you walk with me in the garden, milady?”

  Lily looked surprised—at his formal tone, mayhap—but she nodded and let him lead her outside. Catrin had made a walled garden, dormant now, in a sheltered corner near the tower keep. They could speak privately there, without fear of being overheard.

  Despite the sun, Lily shivered, so he wrapped his cloak about her and settled her on a bench. Too restless to sit, he stood in the path before her, fighting the childish urge to dig at the crushed stone with the toe of his boot.

  He didn’t know how to begin, but Lily solved that problem for him.

  “Will we be able to stay here long?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. Llywelyn will look for us here eventually.

  Unless we leave the area altogether, there are few places where his arm does not reach.”

  She glanced at the herbs scattered about the beds before settling her gaze on his face.

  “You should take me back, Ian. Make your peace with your overlord. I’ve gotten what I wanted. I know now who I am. And I’ve gained a family besides. Don’t you know how happy that makes me?

  “Tis more than I ever dared hope for.” She laid her hand on his arm.

  “It grieves me to know what you could lose, because of me.”

  “I thought you wanted to meet your sister,” he reminded her.

  “Once some time has passed, perhaps it will be safe for Gillian to come to me, wherever he sends me. We’ll have a chance to meet, to know each other.”

  “Not if Gillian is dead,” he said flatly. He steeled himself against the pain that darkened her eyes. Better to be creel now than to watch her grieve for Gillian later.

  “So long as you live, Llywelyn has a chance to gain l’Eau Clair. If I were to take you back, I can guarantee you’d be wed in no time—a matter of weeks, at most. And the man will be of Llywelyn’s choosing, not your own. He’ll want someone loyal only to him. If you’re lucky, the man could be fairly young, and not too stupid, although I wouldn’t count on that.”

  Tears filled her eyes, tears he knew she would not allow to fall.

  “Why are you doing this, Dragon?”

  He winced. For the first time, she said the name with the same degree of fear—or was it loathing?—he heard in others’ voices when they spoke of him. He felt lower than a snake, but that didn’t matter.

  Lily was all that mattered now.

  If he knew she was safe from Llywelyn’s plots and schemes, he didn’t care if she loathed him. So long as she did not fear him.

  That he could not bear.

  “In all my years of carrying out Llywelyn’s vengeance, I never stopped to consider those I might have hurt. But I cannot harm you, Lily. And if I take you back, fall in with his plan, I will.” He turned his back on her and stared at a withered shrub.

  “There is only one way I can think of to protect you and Gillian.” He whirled to face her, pinning her with his gaze.

  “Marry me, Lily. As your husband, it will be my duty to keep you from harm. And Llywelyn will learn that even I have limits to what I will do for him.”

  He looked and sounded so torn, Lily could not bear it.

  “Ian, please.” She held her hand out in supplication.

  “Sit here with me, so that we may talk.”

  Reluctantly, it seemed, he joined her on the bench, his shoulders hunched forward—though not against the cold.

  She could see the fire burning in his eyes.

  But who was he angry with? Her? Llywelyn?

  Or himself?.

  How could she let him face life alone? He considered himself unworthy of happiness, of a life of his own. Her heart began to trip faster as she examined the opportunity
fate had given her. She wanted his happiness, more than her own. She would find a way to give Ian what anyone else would consider his right.

  A home, a wife, a woman’s heart.

  Could love tame a dragon?

  She smoothed her hand over his back and shoulders in a soothing motion, until she felt the muscles beneath her palm relax. They sat there for a time in silence, the twittering of birds and the muted sounds of Ashby a restful accompaniment to their thoughts.

  Finally Lily could see that Ian’s face had settled into its usual lines and color had returned to ride along his sharply defined cheekbones. She watched his face, seeking knowledge of the man she would join her life with.

  He lifted his gaze to her face and caught her staring, sending a wave of heat over her face and neck. His emerald eyes, dark and intense, inspected her as carefully as she had him.

  His fingers crept up and stopped the restful movement of her hand, capturing her fingers and slowly carrying them to his lips.

  “Have you decided?” he asked, watching her over their linked hands. He pressed a lingering kiss on her fingertips.

  “Will you be my bride?”

  “Are you certain you wish it?”

  He nodded.

  “And you won’t regret it?”

  “Never.”

  That one word, so earnestly said, gave her the strength to decide.

  “Yes, milord Dragon, I will wed you.” A surge of excitement fired her blood.

  “Whenever you will.”

  His eyes never leaving hers, Ian lowered his head and brought his lips to bear ever so gently upon hers. His kiss was a solemn vow, sealing their agreement with an irrevocable bond. Lily felt her flesh tingle where they touched—their mouths and the fingers of one hand—and felt an answering spark deep within her. She moaned from the intensity of it.

  “Will you be my wife in all ways?” he whispered.

  “Will you let me make you mine, in truth?”

  Beyond speech, beyond thought, she nodded.

  “Will you wed me now, Lily? Before God and my family? Talbot’s priest will marry us, so long as you’re truly willing.”

  He kissed her fingertips once again, his lips lingering as his eyes made promises of passion barely checked. She allowed him to lead her from the garden to go in search of his sister.

  They found Calrin and Nicholas in Catrin’s solar—waiting for them, it seemed.