He frowned until he realized to what she was referring, and then a broad smile curved his mouth.
The boyish grin slammed right into her heart. If she ever needed proof of how much he needed her, it was right there. For a moment, she could almost see what he might have been like had war not stolen everything away from him. Happy, relaxed, teasing.
“You’re jealous,” he said, looking much too pleased with himself.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She tried to toss her nose up in the air but he caught her chin. The amusement was gone from his expression. “You have no reason to be, Rosalin.”
Admittedly, he’d paid little attention to the steady flock of women who seemed to find any manner of duties to attend to in the yard whenever the infamous Robbie Boyd was training with his men. But it was still difficult for her when the other women were out there, and she was once again watching him from a window. Only at night did he belong to her.
“I know,” she said. “But can you blame me? They are free to watch you, while I am…” She shrugged. “I feel like I’m at Kildrummy again.”
She could tell he didn’t like the comparison. “I’m trying to protect you. It is safer for you in here when I cannot be with you.”
“That’s exactly what Cliff used to say.”
He definitely didn’t like that comparison.
But he surprised her with his response. Actually, he shocked her speechless. “Well, he was probably right. You had no business being in Scotland at such a time. What was he thinking to let you come?”
It must be snowing in hell: Robbie Boyd was in agreement with Lord Robert Clifford. It would be cause for celebration if the subject of that agreement weren’t locking her up in a tower. He was staring at her, apparently waiting for her to answer. She pursed her mouth. “He didn’t exactly agree to let me come visit.”
He had an extremely discomfiting way of remaining dauntingly expressionless yet still conveying danger. “What do you mean?”
“My guardian, the earl of Hereford, was ordered to Scotland by the king, and I convinced him to take me along.”
“Into the middle of a war?” he roared, his expression no longer so expressionless.
“The war was over at the time, if you’ll recall. Or at least it was thought to be over. Bruce’s men were scattered. Bruce himself had fled Scotland.”
“Aye, I seem to recall the period,” he said dryly.
She bit her lip, embarrassed. Of course he did. “The countess and a number of other ladies were going; I saw no reason why I shouldn’t join them. I hadn’t seen Cliff in almost two years, and I missed him desperately. I knew he would keep me safe—and he did. Just like I know you will keep me safe.”
He held her gaze, and she knew he was thinking of what had happened—or nearly happened—that night at camp with Uilleam. And no doubt about his sister. “Not always.” His voice was oddly thick.
“No, not always. But no one is safe always. Even locked in a tower,” she added with a wry smile. “And that is not a way to live.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, and then switched the subject. “How old were you when your parents died?”
She propped her chin up on his broad chest and stared at him. It seemed like an innocuous question, but she got the feeling it was anything but. “I was four when my father died. My mother followed him to the grave before the year was out.”
He appeared surprised—and troubled. “I didn’t realize you were so young. There were just you and your brother?”
She nodded. “There were other babes, but all but one were lost in the womb or infancy. I had a brother who was a year older than me, but he died about a year before my father. Each death took a little of my mother’s heart, and after my father died I think she just lost the will to go on.” She smiled. “I missed her—or maybe the idea of her—for a long time. But in truth, Cliff was more of a mother to me. Mother, father, and brother all rolled up in one. I followed him around everywhere; I don’t know how he tolerated it.”
“But you were separated?”
She nodded, her face shadowing at the memory. “They had to drag me crying and screaming out of his arms when I was sent to live with the earl. I didn’t understand why I could not be with Cliff while he went to squire. I was too young to understand about rights of wardship and marriage. But the de Bohuns were kind to me, and Cliff visited or sent for me when he could.”
Absently, he twisted a lock of hair around his finger. “You were lonely, though.”
She frowned, slightly taken aback by the observation. But then she shrugged. “Perhaps a little. More after I returned from a visit, especially after he married Maud and had the children. But with Cliff in the north and me in London, it had been some time since I’d seen any of them. I was only allowed to travel because of the wed—”
She stopped, feeling his muscles tense, and caught her bottom lip with her teeth, cursing the inadvertent reminder.
“Because of your wedding?” he finished, surprisingly calmly.
She nodded, and peered into his eyes intently. “I meant what I said, Robbie. I will not marry him. No matter what happens.”
Their eyes held. It was one of the rare times in the past two days that she’d referred to the uncertainty of their future—or whether they even had one. By unspoken agreement they’d avoided any discussion of what would happen when the Black Douglas and Sir Alex returned. It was as if neither one of them wanted to disturb the fragile peace they’d constructed around them with talk of retaliation, truces, her brother, or the war.
Did he want a future with her? He’d shown her in countless ways with his tenderness and gentleness that he loved her. But he’d never actually said the words. Nor, she was painfully aware, had he mentioned marriage.
Whatever his intentions were, Rosalin did not want to push. She knew she needed to give him time. He might not realize yet what he wanted. What she’d tried to do the past couple of days was show him how wonderful it could be, shower him with love, and make him see all that he’d been missing. How there was more to life than war. How he could still do his duty, fight for Scotland’s independence, and carve out some happiness for himself. And how she could be a part of that.
There was more to him than the brutal war machine bent on vengeance, striking without thought. The reprieve he’d given her had proved the man she remembered still existed. But she was painfully aware that reprieve was only temporary. The men could return at any time.
Would he send her back or did he love her enough to fight to keep her, even if she was English and Robert Clifford’s sister? Her deepest fear was that he would never be able to reconcile the two. And worse, that maybe he wasn’t keeping her in this tower just to protect her but also because he was ashamed of her. That a relationship with an Englishwoman somehow diminished his reputation as the freedom fighter who despised all things English.
She tried to ignore the stab of disappointment when he didn’t respond to her vow not to marry Sir Henry. Instead, he started to roll off the bed. “I need to return to my chamber.” After the first night, he’d come to her.
“Already?” she asked, trying to hide her disappointment with a smile.
He saw through it anyway. “I’m riding out at dawn. Besides, I do not want to give Lady Joanna any reason to suspect that I am not enjoying the fine bed in her mother-in-law’s chamber.”
Rosalin suspected it was too late for that. She suspected Lady Joanna knew exactly whose bed he was enjoying.
She watched him dress in silence, wishing that their worlds did not feel so apart. The one he shared in here with her and the one he shared out there with everyone else that required strapping on armor and swords. Her eyes moved from the bruises on his ribs to the one on his face. “I hope you will not be returning with any more ‘scratches’?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Not today, unless they are wielded by farm implements.”
She gazed at him questioningly.
He grimaced. “One of my duties for the king is to listen to the disputes of the people when he cannot, which means a long morning listening to a bunch of squabbling between neighboring farmers.”
“The Devil’s Enforcer meting out justice?”
Her incredulity seemed to amuse rather than offend him. “Aye, well, it’s only one of my duties—a very small part. My reputation is not in any danger.”
She’d sat up in bed to watch him, and she realized his gaze had fallen to her very thin chemise. Although he did not seem to possess a modest bone in his body (admittedly with good reason) and came to her bed completely naked (not that she was complaining), sensing her modesty, he had not pressed her to remove her chemise. But if his heated gaze on her barely covered breasts was any indication, she suspected that patience was almost at an end.
“Have you heard of the legal term quid pro quo?”
She translated the Latin in her head: this for that. She wrinkled her nose. “Nay.”
He grinned. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so excited by his next words, she would have noticed how slyly. “How would you like to go on a short hike later?”
She practically jumped out of the bed. “Really?”
That smile deepened. “Be ready at about three.”
She nodded excitedly. “I will be.”
He started out the door, but at the last minute he turned. “And Rosalin.” Her eyes met his. “Make sure not to wear anything with too many ties.”
She was left to ponder that for the remainder of the day.
Rosalin spun on him angrily, eyes flashing and hands on her hips. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Robert Boyd. You tricked me and brought me up here under false pretenses.”
Robbie tried not to laugh, but she looked so adorable and outraged it wasn’t easy. He gestured to the valley below them. “I promised you a short hike and a beautiful view. Did I not deliver both?”
If looks could kill, he’d be dead right now. “It’s breathtaking. But you know very well it’s not the view. It’s the payment you’ve demanded in return that’s the problem.”
He shook his head, tsking. “I wouldn’t use the term ‘payment’; it sounds too…”
“Underhanded? Strong-arming? Unscrupulous?”
He grinned. “I was going to say formal. I prefer quid pro quo. I give you a little something of this, you give me a little something of that. Everyone’s happy.”
“I’d hardly say stripping down naked in the middle of the day outside where anyone can happen upon us is ‘a little something.’”
“We are up on a hilltop, surrounded by trees, with no one around for miles.” A slight exaggeration, but he would hear anyone who tried to sneak up on them. “I thought it would be fun.”
“Fun?” she exclaimed, practically sputtering. “Fun for you, you mean.”
He had to grin at that. Damned right it would be fun for him. Even the thought of all that naked skin bared to his eyes in the sunlight made him hard. He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “That’s all right. I thought you were more adventurous, but if you are too embarrassed by whatever it is you are intent on keeping hidden under that shift, we can return to the castle.”
Aye, and he’d be lying dead with two very green daggers in his chest. “You are a horrible man who deserves every bit of your ruthless reputation.”
He grinned harder. When it came to having her naked, she was probably right. He waited with surprising patience, when all he wanted to do was rip those clothes right off her and taste every inch of that naked skin. He was rewarded. A moment later she started furiously working the ties of her gown. She was calling him all kinds of names under her breath, but he didn’t care. His pulse had stopped and his breath seemed lodged in his lungs as piece after piece of clothing fell at her feet.
He was in awe.
He was in rapture.
He was in…
Oh hell, he was in trouble. The past few days had been like a dream. He felt himself caught up in the magical web she’d spun around him and didn’t know how he was going to get out. Didn’t know whether he wanted to get out. Though he knew he shouldn’t be encouraging her fantasy of a future between them, like Icarus to the sun, he was powerless to stay away from the warmth in her eyes. And the heat. That, he sure as hell couldn’t stay away from.
She paused when she reached her shift. Their eyes met. The anger that he’d counted on to make her forget her embarrassment had faded. She looked at him uncertainly. But he was too far gone—and too damned aroused—to have pity.
“Take it off, sweetheart. I want to see every inch of you.” His voice was husky and dark and full of sensual promise.
“What about you?”
She was stalling, but as his being naked worked with his plan, he let her get away with it. He removed his weapons first, then his leather armor and boots, and finally his shirt and braies. As always, he was conscious of her eyes on him when he undressed, which only added to his arousal. By the time he was standing naked in front of her, his cock was so hard it was practically pounding a hole in his ribs.
She might have been a maid a few days ago, but the heat in her gaze as her eyes roamed over his naked body was anything but innocent. When she got to his manhood and stopped, and unconsciously licked her bottom lip, he had to grit his teeth against the surge of lust that pulsed through him.
If she ever realized the sensual power she wielded over him, he feared she could have him following her around like an eager pup with one crook of that slender white finger.
“Is that better?” he challenged.
Her eyes skated over him again, getting that soft, heavy-lidded look of arousal that he’d come to crave. She gave a quick nod and with a deep breath, lifted the linen chemise over her head and let it drop in a pool at her feet.
He sucked in his breath, his eyes slowly scanning the delicate feminine curves of the lithe beauty before him. Christ, she was even more beautiful than he’d imagined from the pieced-together views he’d managed. Her legs were long, her waist slim, her breasts firm and perfectly round. And her skin…It was incredible. As smooth and flawless as freshly churned cream. He knew the baby-softness, the velvety feel, and when he dared to run the back of his finger over her breast, he groaned.
Realizing her cheeks were pink and her eyes had dropped to her feet, he cupped her chin and forced her gaze to his. “You are perfect, mo ghrá. There is no cause for you to be embarrassed.”
But she was. And as jittery as a filly before a storm. Not a bad analogy for what was to come.
“Make love to me, Robbie,” she whispered.
It was the sweetest plea he’d ever heard, and one he sure as hell wasn’t going to refuse. “Aye, my lady. I intend to.” In one smooth motion, he swept her up into his arms, cradling her like a child. Although the sensation set off by the contact of her naked skin to his left him no doubt of her womanliness.
She laughed in surprise and gazed up at him with so much emotion in her eyes it made his chest hurt. He bent down to pick up the plaid she’d worn around her shoulders and carried her toward the large tree.
She latched her arms around his neck. “You’ll hurt your ribs carrying me like this.”
“My ribs are fine. And the day I can’t carry a slip of a lass like you is the day I’ll resign my title at the Games forever.”
She grinned. “I suppose there are a few benefits to that title of yours—other than the more obvious ones.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. His brows knit together in question.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’ll get no more compliments from me. I’m sure you are well aware of how the ladies view that impressive physique of yours.”
He grinned wickedly. “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that, you wretch.” She swiped at him, but as he decided at that moment to put her down on the plaid he’d spread out on a bed of leaves, she missed.
He grinned down at her. “You hit like a lass.”
“I am
a ‘lass,’ in case you hadn’t noticed.”
He gave her a long, hot look up and down. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”
He bent on one knee and leaned over her. She looked so beautiful it took his breath away. Naked, in a bed of leaves, hair spread out wildly behind her, she looked like a wood nymph in some kind of erotic dream. Except it wasn’t a dream. This was real.
The moment of playfulness was gone. “There is only one lady whose opinion matters to me,” he said truthfully, bringing her hand to his lips.
She smiled, the knightly gesture obviously surprising her as much as it did him.
He kissed her then. Gently. Tenderly. Giving free rein not just to the passion, but also to the powerful feelings that seemed to give it much more force.
He worshipped her body with his mouth and tongue, leaving no inch of her unclaimed. Her skin was like the sweetest cream, and he drank her in like a man dying of thirst. Like a dying man. That’s what she was—ambrosia for his soul.
He feasted on her, burying his face between her velvety thighs and lapping her creamy softness. He licked and nuzzled, flicked and sucked until her beautiful breasts arched into the sun and her thighs tightened around his neck. He held her to his mouth as she shattered, crying out his name.
When she could open her eyes, he gave her a wicked grin. “I told you it would be fun.”
She gave him a look that made him feel like he was an incorrigible lad of about five. But then a decidedly wicked gleam appeared. “It’s certainly about to be.” Their eyes met. “I should warn you that I can be quite merciless as well.”
He smiled, genuinely amused. “You can?”
She nodded and lazily started to run her soft fingertips over the hard-muscled bands of his stomach, her wrist passing dangerously close to the powerful head of his erection. She was teasing him, and he didn’t think he liked it. Or rather, he liked it too much.
The Raider (A Highland Guard Novel) Page 31
