He jerked to the left, but not fast enough. Her dagger stuck in his left shoulder. With a roar, he bent his head to rip out the dagger. She sprang for the stairs. He caught her on the fifth step, jerked her hard against his chest and locked his arm around her waist. He hefted her off the ground. She flailed, her feet dangling in front of her.
Above her, the pounding of frantic footsteps on stone rushed toward them. She refused to give up. Rearing her head back, she connected with Lord Ashford’s nose. A sickening crunch followed. He dropped her and she scrambled on the slimy steps.
Could she reach the next level before Lord Ashford caught her? She had to find a way out. The light came toward her quicker than her trembling legs would go. Five seconds until she was captured maybe.
The light robbed her of the ability to see. Blinded, she reached forward, when hands grasped her. Terror seized her voice.
“I’ve got you,” Grey whispered as he flung her over his broad shoulder. “Where do you need to go? How can I help?”
“My home,” she mumbled, wilting against him, too exhausted to explain and too desperate to refuse.
Grey held Madelaine tightly against him as he drove them deep into the woods. Doubt tore through him, making him numb. Was she traitor or victim? A picture of her frantic face illuminated by the eerie glow of the torches in the tower filled his head. She was running, that much was for certain. But from what? Was she running to save her own life because she was guilty of treason or was she running because she was innocent and her father had told her to go? Grey refused to believe she was guilty. Not yet. Running didn’t prove culpability.
“Stop at once,” she demanded, the back of her head coming away from its resting position on his chest and her bottom scooting forward in the saddle to put a slight distance between their bodies.
He pulled up on Cypress’s reins until the horse came to a panting halt. Grey prayed his brother was not right. He jumped down then helped Madelaine from the saddle. One look at her, with her hair tumbling invitingly over her shoulders and across her ample bosom, stirred his groin. God, he was warped for his lust to awaken at a time like this. But her dress was revealing and inviting and—Why the hell was she dressed like that? Jealously and anger stirred.
“Do you care to explain the dress?” He wrapped his hands around her waist while trying to tear his eyes from her creamy breasts.
Her slow slide down the length of his body did nothing to dampen his raging desire. Her feet hit the ground and she stepped away from him, her rounded eyes meeting his. “After rescuing me from trying to escape your brother do you really want me to explain my attire? Surely there are other more pressing questions on your mind.”
There were a thousand more relevant questions, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers or if he got answers would they be honest? “Were you trying to free your father?”
She jerked her head. “As if I could.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No, I was not trying to free him.” Her shoulders slumped, and he fought the urge to fold her into his arms. She had gone there for a reason. He had to know why. “Why were you there?”
“Why do you think?” she asked faintly.
Ah. Here was the tricky part. He knew what he wanted to believe, but was he fooling himself? Was Edward right? Would he not be able to read the truth in her eyes because he didn’t want to see the truth? “I think you were desperate to see your father one last time.” Her eyes widened at his statement. “Am I right?”
“Yes.” Her voice trembled. “I had to say goodbye.” She sniffed and wiped at her face. “He’s all I have in this world, Grey. I—I cannot stay to see him hanged. I just want to go home. I don’t want to be here when he’s killed.”
Grey enfolded her into his arms, relief pouring through him. He didn’t give a damn what Edward thought, Madelaine was innocent. She needed him.
He stroked a hand through her hair, aware of a stirring of his blood and a pounding of his pulse. He was helpless to stop his reaction to her. The best he could do was try to control himself. “I’ll take you home. And I’ll send a note to my brother explaining everything, so he won’t pursue punishing you.”
She pulled away. “No. Don’t do that. You shouldn’t involve yourself in my troubles or place me between you and your brother.”
“Nonsense.” He pulled her to him. When he saw her mouth part as if to protest, he kissed her. He meant only to silence her while he thought how to convince her to allow him to take her home. He’d never let her out of his sight now. Not only was he worried for her safety, but it was imperative to prove her innocence to Edward. When his mouth met hers, and her warm lips parted, he tasted her sweetness and lost control. He kissed her hungrily, their tongues swirling and touching then retreating and coming together once again.
He wanted more. He wanted to shelter her and ravish her at the same time. The dueling desires drove his kiss to a frenzied level. He ravaged her mouth with kiss after kiss, and she responded by pressing her mouth harder against his. Their hands worked frantically over each other. He slid his hands over her smooth skin, pushing her dress off her shoulder, tugging open her bodice, and slipping a finger under her dress to release her taut nipple. He wrenched his mouth away from hers only to lower it to her nipple where he swirled his tongue around the peak. A shudder of desire coursed through him when a strangled moan escaped her. Whatever control he’d had left fled with the knowledge that she wanted him with the same desperation. He cupped her breast to gain better access, and he grasped her bottom in his other hand to haul her firmly against his hard body.
He wanted her with an intensity that blinded him to all else. Before he could make his muddled mind decide what to do, she jerked away, and even in the dark of the forest, he sensed her embarrassment by her frantic breathing and the rustling of her clothes as she hastily drew her dress up to cover herself. “I’m sorry,” he quickly said. God, he was a wretched bastard. He’d almost taken his future wife’s innocence with the cold dirt and dry leaves as their bed.
“Please, Grey.” Her boots crunched on twigs and leaves as she retreated. “You must leave me. I’ll make my way home on my own.”
His mouth fell open. Damned, foolish woman. This was exactly why he loved her. She thought to protect him from her predicament. But she’d not considered that she’d be raped or murdered before she ever got out of the forest. “How do you plan to get home alone? Will you walk?”
“I—I’d n—n—not thought how to get there.”
“That’s obvious,” he said flatly. “This forest is teeming with thieves, murderers and rapists. You’ll be lucky to make it out with your virginity and your clothes intact.” He heard her swallow. Good. She needed to understand how vulnerable she was without him. He suspected she’d fight his proposal, but he’d prevail.
“Maybe I cou—could hire someone to take me home.”
“Have you any money?”
“No.” Her voice was high, strained. “Could you loan me some?”
“Hell no. I’ll see you there myself, Madelaine.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“But I do. I love you, and I intend to marry you.”
“Oh, Grey!” She fell against his chest, clutching his arms.
His heart lurched at her touch.
“This was much easier than I thought,” he murmured in her hair as he caressed the silken strands.
She jerked away. “No. You misunderstand! I can’t fathom you’d still want to marry me now. I—” Her words cut off as she slid her hand to his head and tugged him toward her. He met her mouth in a sweet kiss that took his breath and infused him with another rush of lust. “You can’t marry me now, Grey. I’d never let you align yourself with me and the taint my father’s dishonor will bring.”
“This is more like how I thought you’d react,” he said wryly.
“It has to be this way. You must know that.”
“I know no such thing. All I know is I’ll
be the one to see you home safely or you won’t go home at all.” Let her think the battle was over. He had many other weapons he could use if she pushed him and he didn’t mind one bit the idea of seducing her in order to secure her hand in marriage. The foolish woman loved him just as much as he loved her. For the first time ever, he was completely and utterly happy.
His throat constricted. He wasn’t alone. Unloved. Unwanted. She loved him. He would make her see she needed him. Couldn’t live without him. The idea of going back to a life of loneliness made him shudder. No amount of denying his feelings would work this time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Once Grey secured another horse for Madelaine, they set out toward Lancashire. Their relentless pace made conversation impossible, a reprieve Madelaine welcomed. She had no idea what to say. The idea of lying to Grey after he had said he still wanted to marry her, and was risking his life to help her, made her sick to her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to be able to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t betray her father that way nor endanger Grey’s future.
Besides, what if Grey was horrified when he learned what her father had done, and he took the paper to prove her father’s guilt? The possibility wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities, given his brother was so close with the king. Grey would feel loyalty to his brother and the king, and rightly so. Madelaine’s own tug of loyalty to the king filled her with conflict and uncertainty.
She wasn’t sure she agreed with what her father was doing, but he did what he thought best for the country, and he was counting on her to save him. He had told her exactly what to do, and for once in her life she was going to be obedient. She owed her father this much and so much more.
By the time they stopped at daybreak to water, feed, and rest the horses, tiredness seeped into her bones, making her eyes flinty and her limbs heavy. She eagerly slid from her horse toward Grey’s outstretched hands and didn’t pull away when her body pressed down the length of his. The courtyard of the inn was deserted, and no one came to take their horses as she expected.
Once she felt steady, she pushed away from Grey and glanced at the inn. Layer upon layer of white paint peeled from the wood, and broken shutters framed the dilapidated windows. Discarded paper and glass littered the ground, and the smell of rotten fish filled the air. Madelaine sniffed. The stench of years of garbage filled her nose, gagging her. Her head pounded from lack of sleep and food. She swallowed, her tongue thick with thirst, her throat dry as kindling. “Where are we?”
“The Navigation Inn. It’s not fit for a proper lady, which is exactly why we’re here. We won’t run into anyone we know, so your reputation will be safe.” Grey stared at her, unblinking.
She nearly laughed. He was utterly serious. “I hardly think my reputation will matter in a few days.” If she was successful at retrieving her father’s paper and getting it to the prince, her father would live. But either way, success or failure, his betrayal of the king would become public, and whatever slim chance she’d ever had at making a successful marriage would disappear. Yet she didn’t care about that. The only man she would ever want was the man standing in front of her, and she could never have him now. Once he knew what she had done, he would hate her.
He scowled. “As my wife your reputation will matter to me, Madelaine.”
The fact he still wanted to marry her, even though he thought her father was about to hang for treason, filled her with an aching, longing love. She’d never betray her father, but she could take one thing for herself. She grasped Grey’s hand. “Let’s get a room.”
His eyebrows raised at her suggestion. He grasped her hand. “One room?”
“One,” she confirmed.
He smiled. “Does this mean you’re agreeing to marry me?”
“Really, Grey.” She batted her eyes flirtatiously, hoping to move his thoughts from marriage. “For a man who is supposed to be a notorious rake, I’d think you’d jump at the chance to share my bed.”
He brushed his hand slowly down her cheek, his eyes darkening to a deep blue. “My love, I tremor in anticipation of sharing your bed, yet I find myself in the strange position of wanting to make sure you will be mine forever.”
His hard thighs and center pressed against her hips and belly as his gaze locked with hers. She brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “I will be yours forever. I vow this to you.” And it wasn’t a lie, so she didn’t even stutter. In her heart she would be Grey’s wife, though it could never be so on paper.
He flashed a wicked grin. “Then by all means, let’s secure a room immediately.”
Strangely enough, as she followed him, her knees did not shake with fear at the innocence she was about to freely give away. Once she lay with Grey, it was doubtful another lord would want her. Her heart pounded in anticipation, not anxiety. Her only regret was that her father would be disappointed. Then again, she doubted her father now held any expectations or hopes of her making a decent match, so maybe she would not be disappointing him on that count.
She followed Grey through the door of the tavern. Ale and sweat swirled in the air, and haggard faces glanced their way, dismissing them in the same breath. Grey had been right. This place was disgusting and a perfect place to go unnoticed.
As Grey spoke with the innkeeper and secured them a room, Madelaine stood silently in a corner of the shabby lobby, if you could call the small room outside of the tavern a lobby. Once Grey was finished, he held out his hand. She slipped her hand into his as he led her up a narrow set of stairs. They did not speak, which was a good thing because she did not think she could find any words to say besides I want you. At the top of the stairs, he took a right, passed two doors then stopped in front of the third. “This is us.”
She nodded and smiled. She didn’t want him to think she was nervous, but suddenly she was. Her mother had never spoken to her about the marriage act. She wished they’d been closer, and she had an inkling of what to expect.
Grey led her into the small room, dismal with its faded green coverlet, threadbare carpet and dented dresser. The surroundings mattered little to her, as long as Grey was with her, but the room smelled of mold, and that she couldn’t stand. She strode to the small window, but could not get it open. Behind her, she smelled a burning wick and light flickered against the wall creating dancing shadows. Grey came up behind her, his arms sliding beside hers, his hands covering her smaller ones. “Together?”
She nodded, her heart beat increasing with each breath. The window lock snapped open and Grey pushed open the shutters, a cool breeze hitting her face. She inhaled deeply of the fresh air heavy with moisture of an oncoming rain.
“Madelaine,” Grey whispered against her neck as he stroked her hair. She pressed her back against his length. She savored the strength of the man behind her and the warmth of his arms as they circled her waist and turned her toward him.
He raised her chin until she stared into his eyes. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.” There was no need to play coy or hesitate. Tonight would represent the thousands of moments they would never share again. There was no time for fear or anything else. She pressed her mouth to his, willing her problems to the darkest recesses of her mind. Their tongues intertwined and touched gently, then greedily.
He roamed his hands up and down her back in a rhythmic, almost frenzied pattern. Then he delved his fingers beneath the material of her dress, pulling the cotton gently off one shoulder. The warmth of his fingers against her bare skin sent a shudder through her body.
The material slid lower until her breast was exposed, and he licked and teased the peak. Sensations exploded through her and caused her to gasp. She curled her fingers into his arms, afraid her legs would simply give out. He tugged her dress over her shoulder, her hips and down her legs, somehow expertly managing to find access to the juncture between her thighs.
She pressed her hands against his back to draw him closer, while he pulled her tighter, suckling harder a
s his fingertips found the place throbbing between her legs. A sob escaped her as she gave up any fight and gloried in the movement of his fingers. They massaged her, her need building until she was sure she would die. “Please,” she cried, not at all sure what she was begging for.
His fingers moved at a more rapid pace. “Let yourself go.”
Hadn’t she already? Yet even as she questioned it, a crescendo built within her, her pulse pounding a fierce beat through her veins as a hot, searing liquid exploded within her. She sank into his arms, panting with the release of the throbbing in her loins and buried her face against his chest as she ran her fingers over coiled, warm arms.
How would it feel to have Grey inside of her? New longing sprang within her.
“Madelaine,” he whispered into her ear as he gently tilted her head back.
Raw need filled his voice, but when she looked into his eyes, she gasped. His eyes shimmered with longing. It was hard to believe she had thought at one time that he needed nothing and no one. She could not deny what she saw. Tonight, she’d give him what he desired, and she would try to forget that soon she would betray his trust.
Cupping his face with her hands, she kissed his neck, the stubble of his chin, and his lips. A craving to touch every part of him filled her. She twined her fingers through his hair as he lifted her off the ground and carried her to the bed. He settled her and stood over her looking down at her.
Outside, a storm brewed which matched the tempest within her. Rain beat against the inn and gusts of wind smacked against the wooden shutters making them rattle. “A storm’s coming,” she said.
Grey kneeled before her and took her hand in his. “In here too.”
She nodded.
“This will be different than moments ago.”
Good God. Was he trying to prepare her? Her heart tugged at his thoughtfulness. “I’m aware.” Though only slightly, but he didn’t need to know how utterly naïve she was.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Lords of the Kingdom Page 62
