by Hall, Diana
Geoffrey laughed but it did not reach his eyes. “A recent talent. I remember when we were children, you always found me at hangman.”
“Would that we could once again be children.” Lenora took the loose ribbon that held her braid from her hair. She shook her head to free the strands and finger-combed the tangles from her hair.
“But we are not children and can never be again. And soon, it may well be that you will bear your own children.” Geoffrey sat down near her, his fingers inches from her auburn strands of hair. “Lenora, how can you marry Galliard? You with your words of freedom and quest for knowledge? The man will drink his fill of your vitality and leave you drained, an empty vessel.”
Lenora stopped her combing. “I must do as my father wishes.”
“Why have you chosen now to become the biddable daughter? I did not see you so easily succumb in the past. Perhaps you are a hypocrite, your feisty words forgotten at the touch of Galliard’s lips.”
Peeved by his remark, Lenora retaliated. “And who are you to speak of passivity? I have never seen you stand up to your father. At least my father’s illness explains my submission. You have no excuse.”
His face closed from the humiliation of her words. Immediately, Lenora felt remorse. “I’m sorry, Geoffrey. I know well the mettle of your father. You and Daphne have told me often enough of the perfidy he commits. Pray, accept my apology and forgive me.”
“I cannot long be angry with you. How many times did you hide my sister and me from our father when he was in a drunken rage? I owe you much. I love you.” Geoffrey passed his fingers through the ends of her hair. “Like a sister.”
Lenora separated her coppery locks into three strands and began to rebraid her plaits. “Then as a sister I ask you, do not give up on Beatrice. There still might be hope for the two of you. Your letter broke her heart.”
“’Tis better now than later.” The words were said with little emotion. “Now is not the time to worry over Beatrice. You are the one in danger.”
“Danger? I would not put it as danger.” Lenora tied the ribbon to the end of her braid and began to plait the other side.
“There is more here than just a marriage.” Geoffrey’s eyes widened. “Wealth, land, justice are at stake. Too many plans have been laid. There must be a way to stop your marriage to Galliard. I never wanted to see you hurt.”
Lenora began to feel uneasy under her friend’s intense stare. The village talk of evil spirits and demons returned. Could such a thing exist? Could such a thing invade Geoffrey?
“There is nothing that you can do.” She inched away from the dark stare.
“I could take you from here, back to my father’s.” Geoffrey’s voice grew more hopeful.
“I’d have more to fear from your father and brothers than Galliard. Besides, Woodshadow is too wealthy a keep for Galliard just to give up He’ll not stop until Woodshadow is his. If I disappeared, ‘twould not take long for him to discover my location. Would you bring his wrath to your father’s door?”
“Aye, that’s true. I think perhaps he and I are much alike. To give up is not in our blood.” His eyes took on a maniacal gleam. “We could go from this place to the abbey. I could have a friar marry us, and thus keep Galliard from you.”
“Nay, Geoffrey, in your quest to save me you forget Beatrice.” Lenora’s fingers trembled as she finished her last braid.
“Aye, Beatrice. What to do? What to do?” His voice became like a child’s chanting a verse. He picked up a stick from the ground and stabbed it into the dark, loamy soil. Each blow became harder and deeper.
Lenora noticed his left eye twitch in time with his action. She jumped up and the ribbon fell from her hand. “Geoffrey, your distress over Beatrice and me has muddled your brain. Pray, drive this worry from you.”
“But I can’t.” He threw away the stick and gave her a forlorn look. His face shifted to a more sinister expression. “You don’t understand. I can’t let you marry Galliard.” Geoffrey rose from his position like a wolf stalking prey. His hands shot out and latched onto her wrist.
“Let me go,” she commanded, and struggled to free herself. His mercurial moods had always been a little unsettling. Today they were frightening.
He smiled. It reminded her of a snake, cold and lethal. His foot on her hem tripped her and she tumbled to the ground, the breath knocked out of her. Her lungs cried for air.
Geoffrey fell with her, his weight preventing her breathless lungs from filling. Her mind a hurricane of emotions and thoughts, Lenora reverted to survival instincts. She kicked with her free leg and bit into his arm.
“Damn you to hell!” Geoffrey shouted. “I only wanted to help you up. You never could take teasing.”
Lenora rolled away and reached her feet. She felt foolish for falling into Geoffrey’s prank, yet a deep, inner instinct warned her to keep her distance. “I do not think your antics amusing. Sometimes you go too far.”
Geoffrey’s eyes showed no glimmer of remorse or recognition. He spat out a mouthful of blood and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He moved toward her, his face in a snarl. “I owed you for your talk about my father. Sometimes I do not go far enough.”
“Lenora!” Roen de Galliard reached the clearing and took in the scene and made his conclusions. Coppery locks careened down Lenora’s back and cascaded across her shoulders. Her swollen mouth and heaving chest told him all he needed to know. He had interfered with her clandestine meeting with her lover. She played the game of innocent so well, but she was no different from his mother.
Her brown eyes widened and became unreadable for the first time since they had met. She rushed to Roen’s side and stood behind him with her hand on the hilt of his dagger.
“Nay, Lenora,” the handsome young man implored.
An instant dislike for the fop intensified Roen’s anger. Lenora’s lover gave Roen a cursory look, then his face turned smooth and treacherous. “You are right. I was momentarily deranged and carried my jest too far. But let us kiss and be friends again—” his eyebrows arched “—for I do so covet your goodwill.” The knight came toward them, his hands outstretched.
“Nay, your apology is accepted. There is no need for more.” Roen felt Lenora begin to slip the dagger from the sheath. He put his hand on hers. Her eyes fought his, but she relented.
“Who are you?” Roen wanted to yank the answer from the man’s throat.
“Sir Geoffrey Champlain. I am a friend of the lady and her cousin. Lenora and I have played—” Geoffrey paused and accented the last word “—together since we were children.”
A blaze of emotion engulfed Roen. Geoffrey. The name Lenora had murmured in her sleep when he held her. There must be some truth to the man’s insinuations. Anger and betrayal settled like a stone in his gut. Disappointment lingered in his heart. He foolishly believed Lenora could be different from his mother. Instead, she proved his father right, women were vain, faithless creatures.
“Geoffrey, I swear, if you don’t stop this I’ll kick you again,” Lenora fumed.
Roen watched the flash of anger move across Geoffrey’s aristocratic features. “Then I’ll stop. I’m only trying to help, you know.” He turned to Roen, a challenge in his eyes. “Lady Lenora and Lady Beatrice are dear friends of mine. I do not wish to see either of them hurt, but I fear there is danger nearby for both of them.” Geoffrey rubbed his arms. “I leave you, Lady Lenora. The air grows cool and I have misplaced my mantle. I will speak with you soon.”
“You may speak with me and my betrothed at the castle on our wedding,” Roen interjected. “’Tis but three days away.”
“Three days.” Lenora squeaked out the words as if they were her gallows sentence.
“Aye, your father’s wishes. Two of your father’s vassals arrive in two days to witness the ceremony. Lord Ranulf and Lord Baldric are your father’s strongest allies and will pledge their fidelity to me as their lord. The rest of your knights may do so as they arrive, but the marriage will n
ot wait.”
Geoffrey’s smile left his face. “Then I will see you in three days.” When he turned to Lenora, his gaze grew somber. “I beg your pardon for any offense I caused you. But ‘tis my nature to feel your words more than most.”
Lenora did not leave her position at Roen’s side. She gave her friend a regal nod. “I know, you have always been more sensitive than most. Let us put this behind us. Do not lose heart, Geoffrey. Things will turn out right.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will.” Geoffrey melted into the darkness of the forest. Roen watched him until he could no longer discern any movement in the shadows.
“Roen, I am so glad…” Lenora turned to him, her face bright with false sincerity.
“You are never to leave the castle unescorted again.” Roen gripped her hand in his and started to drag her down the path to the castle.
“What? I know these woods like I know my own room. I won’t get lost.”
“Do you hear me? Never again. There is no discussion.” Roen pulled her close to him. Her hair smelled of the forest, wild and free. He saw her eyes ignite as he uttered his command. She opened her mouth to speak but he claimed it. His lips roved over hers, exploring and memorizing their contours. The line of her jaw and the delicate skin behind her ears became a path for his lips to explore. His tongue outlined the delicate swirls of her ear. He heard her breathy refusal but did not heed it. The heat of his lips would dissolve away the memories of her lover’s touch.
Lenora tried to escape his lips and hands but her attempts were futile against his embrace. “Please, Roen.”
Roen lifted his head. “Aye, that I will, Nora. I’ll make you forget that pup of a boy. You’ll feel a man between your legs this time.”
“Nay, Roen. Geoffrey only jested. We have not…” She lowered her golden eyes and he saw a flood of red color her face.
In answer, Roen cupped her buttocks with his hands and jerked her up into his swollen member. “Was he too gentlemanly for this?” He laughed when her color deepened. “Have you only played love games like Queen Eleanor taught you at court? I take what I want and now I want you.” He lifted her up into his arms and brought her to eye level. “You are mine,” he declared, and lowered her to the soft grass at his feet.
Lenora had no time or energy to fight. His body fell on hers, but he softened the blow by putting the full force of his weight on his elbows. She thought he meant to ravish her lips again, but instead he lowered his kiss to touch the valley between her breasts. He channeled his tongue into the deep cleft.
She wanted to fight him off but she couldn’t keep track of his tongue and hands. The muscles in his chest flexed across her breasts. A stab of desire leapt from the point of impact to the pit of her stomach. Control and reason fled from the overwhelming strength of her hunger for Roen.
Her fingers tangled in the long hair at the base of his neck and pulled Roen to her of their own accord. She kissed him with a passion newly erupted and discovered. His callused hands tweaked the sensitive nipples of her breasts and she felt them rise to meet him. He held each like a precious jewel and then his lips moved to taste them.
Her back arched from the incredible joy of his tongue on her breasts. He played her nipple, then nibbled the skin beneath her breasts. She heard a purr like a cat and realized it came from her. Through heavy-lidded eyes she watched Roen flip her gown up and move between her legs.
“Now there will be no more question of you marrying me. You’ll have to marry me.” Roen reached and tore away her braes.
Reality started to filter into Lenora’s passion drugged brain. It wasn’t her he wanted, only Woodshadow. The stupor drained away; she regained possession of her body and began to fight. “Nay, I will not be taken like a strumpet on the march!”
Roen brought his knee in between her legs and she felt his fingers close on the triangle of hair between her legs. He said nothing as he stared at the entrance to her virginity. With one hand, he clutched her breast and held her down. His hand came forward and he slowly slid one finger into the gate of her maidenhood.
Confused at the turmoil Roen’s actions caused, Lenora let fear overtake her. Although she did not believe her aunt’s horror tales about men and women, all the stories and warnings came back. His finger eased inside her, and a thousand bolts of lightning shot through her body. He groaned as her body released a flood of warmth to ease his entrance.
“Do not do this.” Lenora could fight no longer. Her body and mind warred. She both cursed and marveled at the passion that compelled her.
“I’m sorry, Nora. I wanted to wait. But ‘tis the only way. I’ve got to keep you safe.”
She opened her eyes to see he had lost his braes, also. Power pulsated from the thick shaft between her legs. Lenora wanted to cry in fear but her body cried for fulfillment.
“Do not give me idle words. You take what you want, so then take it and be done.” She wanted to sound hard, but her words came out breathy and seductive. The yearnings of her body screamed for her to admit the truth. She wanted him to take her, she wanted him.
Roen lowered himself to her. His hard tip pressed at the edge of her womanhood. The long staff heated the skin of her inner thighs and created currents of ecstasy churning in her core. She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid of what her body felt, afraid of what it demanded to feel. Her natural curiosity got the best of her and she opened them again. Roen’s face loomed above hers, locked in concentration. Perspiration beaded his brow. His silver eyes captured hers.
“Nora.” He did not look away from her as he gently entered her. She stiffened when the red-hot shaft filled her. Her eyes started to close again, embarrassed that he might see the fervor of her desire. “Nay, Nora. Look at me.”
Her eyes flew open. He stopped, suspended above her, and brushed her mouth with his. A new wash of warmth flooded her and the pain subsided. Roen’s face transformed, the stern edges softened. He moved deeper and hesitated at the barrier of her maidenhood. Lost in her body’s cravings, Lenora gripped his arms and rocked toward him.
“Wait, Nora. Not yet.” He pushed her hips down, a look of surprise on his face. “I can’t do this right if you keep that up.”
Lenora didn’t care if he did it right or wrong. Her body exploded with new, wonderful feelings and she wanted more. She increased the rotation of her hips. Gone were any thoughts of anger or hatred. Her body didn’t acknowledge those emotions. The spine-tingling bolts of desire were all she wanted to concentrate on. “Roen…” The name rumbled in her throat. “I want this. Now.”
With a roar like a lion, Roen shook his blond mane and plunged into her core. His lips covered hers to muffle her short cry. Deep inside her, he did not stir, letting her body mold itself around him. Lenora felt full, yet ravenous for more of him. She curled her legs around him and Roen whispered in her hair, “Aye, that’s the way of it. You’re a fast learner.”
A rock of her hips, and she heard Roen gasp. His face became transfixed as she tilted her pelvis toward then away from him. She gave him a saucy look and reminded him, “Are you never to listen to me? I warned you I’m intelligent.”
In retaliation, Roen lifted himself up onto his elbows and began moving his hips in a slow gyrating dance that took her breath away. Her gaze flew to his as the hurricane of emotions in her began a crescendo. His body consumed her with the fire of his lovemaking. She wanted to meld with him as deeply and forcefully as possible. Her fingers dug into his back and then raked down his sides to the deeply muscled contours of his buttocks. He plunged deeper. The storm within her reached its maximum force. The tempest cried for more and she delivered. With all her strength, Lenora pushed herself up to meet Roen’s thrust. His hands cradled her and lifted her to him.
The surge of ecstasy earned both lovers in the eddies of passion. Lenora’s body jerked with each hot stream of seed Roen emptied into the warmth of her womb. Spent, he lowered himself and rested his head on her breasts. The heavy thudding of her heart pounded in his ear. He hoped
his obsession would diminished now that he had lain with her, but ‘twas the opposite. The sound of her breath stirred his want again. Her milky white breasts teased him to taste their nectar. Roen was full but famished when it came to his Nora.
Lifting his gaze to hers, he lost himself in the warm cider depths. Her eyes glowed with the still-present embers of passion. Withdrawing himself from her, he lowered her skirt. “You are mine, Nora.” The words came out soft and tender, yet he told himself he felt none of those emotions. This act consummated his duty to his king, nothing more. Yet as he gathered her warm, pliant body close, his thoughts were on the pleasures his body had just experienced and the joy he felt when he discovered her maidenhead intact. His fingers trailed through Lenora’s hair and pushed it from her eyes.
Lenora hid her face, ashamed that she possessed such a sinful nature. The fading wisps of euphoria drained from her body, leaving her bruised and empty on the ground. The act had stripped her of her independence. Now she was like any other woman, an object of ownership, a device to gain wealth.
“You are mine.” His crow of victory shamed her even more. He pushed back her hair so that she could see the satisfaction the remark gave him. His hands loosened their hold, and she grabbed the opportunity to escape his clutches. She rolled the opposite way and scrambled to her feet. Her rumpled gown fell down to its proper location. With her body once again modestly covered, she regained some composure.
“Nora, wait, I’ll walk you back.” Roen moved to collect his clothing.
“Nay, I’ll not enter Woodshadow with you. All will know what’s occurred.”
“All will know soon enough.” He began to retie his braes.
“I’m sure of that. No doubt you’ll want to hear all the cheers and boasts in your favor at the news you’ve turned me into a whore.” Lenora’s anger and disgrace made her throw caution to the wind. “You bastard. You took from me that which was only mine to give. How did such a basebora man as yourself become a knight?” Lenora did not wait for an answer. She ran back down the path to the castle and the comfort of her own room.
