The Knight's Fugitive Lady

by Meriel Fuller

  ‘It’s me.’ Lussac cleared his throat, moving out into the dappled shade so she could see him, trying to inject a note of irritation, of disapproval into his voice. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why did you leave the camp, when I told you not to?’ He shoved his hand against his hot scalp, tetchy, leaving silky strands of chestnut hair awry.

  ‘I offered to fetch the water with Waleran,’ Katerina said. ‘Philippe knew where I was.’

  She drank in the glorious details of him as if she had forgotten what he looked like, drank them in anew. His tall, unyielding figure, long sturdy legs planted solidly on the bank, his lean jagged features, watching her. The generous curve of his bottom mouth, surprising in the hard set of his face. Her pulse knocked heavily against her heart. His cheekbones were flushed; a light sheen of sweat coated his skin. He had dispensed with his chainmail, a green-hooded tunic clinging instead to his broad shoulders, the leather laces coming adrift at the throat to expose the corded muscles in his neck. Fawn-coloured braies encased his legs, stuck into familiar calf-length leather boots. His eyes shone over her, bore into her, the irises widening, darkening.

  ‘Did you get it?’ she said, hurriedly, voice thickening in her throat.

  ‘What...?’ Lussac frowned. He couldn’t concentrate. What was she talking about?

  ‘The writ? Did you get the writ?’ Rising out of the water, Katerina hunched her shoulders, wrapping bare, slender arms across her body, conscious of his penetrating gaze.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he assured her. ‘I have it safe.’

  ‘That’s good news.’ She smiled doubtfully. ‘Isn’t it?’ A shaft of sunlight pierced the shifting green canopy of leaves above, struck down on her figure, illuminating the whiteness of her shift, the peerless quality of her complexion. One side of her chemise had drifted down revealing the delectable globe of one shoulder, the pale, flawless skin. Her hair blazed like golden fire.

  ‘It was the water,’ Katerina carried on, trying to explain across his continuing silence, ‘the water, in this heat—’ her face lit up ‘—it was too tempting. I couldn’t resist.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’ He scarce knew what he said, the words cleaving like soggy wool to the roof of his mouth. The wet gauzy fabric stuck to her like a second skin, moulding lovingly to her curves. Beneath her crossed arms, he could see the push of her breast against the fabric. A warning voice shrilled loudly in his brain, but he thumped it down, smashed it to smithereens with the fist of his desire. His breath emerged in short, ragged gasps.

  Katerina flinched under the intensity of his gaze. Something was not quite right. Despite the stillness of his stance, she sensed a dangerous tension running through him, a wildness. Her heart trembled. The air thickened, stretched tight; even the birds fell silent, as if anticipating the approaching storm.

  ‘I thought I had a bit more time,’ she continued shyly, shivering a little as the water swept around her waist, tugged at her chemise. Her voice seemed overly loud, booming out over the rippling chuckle of the river. ‘Could you throw my tunic over to me?’ She pointed at the small heap on the shingle, hoping to deflect the potency of his gaze. ‘I’ll come out now.’ Nudging her feet over the sharp little stones, she took a tentative step forwards, arms wedged firmly across her bosom. Rivulets of water coursed down her body as she rose from the river, leaving the soaking cloth clinging to her narrow ribs, her flat belly, the flaring curve of her hips.

  ‘For God’s sake, stay where you are!’ Lussac growled, jerking his eyes away roughly. Snatching up her tunic, he waded into the shallows to shove the cloth over her, as if warding her away, covering the distasteful sight of her body. As if he couldn’t bear to look at her, she thought sadly.

  ‘Why are you so angry with me?’ She clutched the bulky fabric to her chest, like a shield. ‘I’m sorry, Lussac, I thought you wouldn’t mind me coming this far.’ Tipping her neat chin up towards him, she frowned, trying to comprehend the thoughts behind his stern expression. Her eyes were pale grey, the colour of a dove’s wing. A single droplet of water ran down her cheek, resting on the pink lush fullness of her upper lip.

  Lussac shook his head at her words, the shallow water running over his boots, darkening the leather. Only a few inches separated them; he could smell the freshness of her skin, the faintest scent of rose petals rising from her wet cascading tresses. A thousand reasons teemed within his brain, reasons to stop, reasons to carry on. He stopped reasoning. ‘I’m not angry, Katerina,’ His voice swung over her, a velvety caress, rough with desire.

  ‘What then? What is it?’ She reached across, fingers curling around his arm.

  Beneath her touch his body loosened, ruptured.

  ‘This.’

  His big hands seized her shoulders, closing the small distance between them, pulled her tight up against him, hard. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

  She gasped out loud; the rugged muscles of his chest crushed against her. Sensations tumbled over her: the smell of leather, of smoke; the overwhelming closeness of him. Her blood began to race, pick up speed. His fingers clamped around her upper arms, supporting her. She knew now, she knew what was about to happen; she sensed it in the tough, rigid stance of his body, in the fathomless depths of his eyes, the rawness of his expression.

  His mouth brushed against her hair, his voice hoarse, unsteady. She heard his sigh. ‘Push me away, Katerina, stop me, before it’s too late.’

  She should. She should shove at his chest, beat at his shoulders and fight for her freedom, break out from the strong prison of his arms. But as her brain rapidly erected barriers, her body cleaved towards him, traitorously. Ligaments sagged like wet rope, weak, the immediacy, the nearness of him fuelling flickers of desire, new-born, untried, deep in her belly. He had kissed her before and found her lacking; she was under no illusions.

  ‘I cannot push you away,’ she breathed, tilting her face up to his. ‘I will not.’ She wanted this, she wanted him.

  He groaned, the sound of raw need echoing around this magical, shade-dappled place. His muscular frame shuddered against her. As he gathered her close, fixed in the circle of his arms, his mouth descended, warm and pliable, fastening over hers. Desire seared through her; her fingers clawed at the fabric of his tunic, snagging, before winding around his neck, pulling him closer, instinctively.

  Lussac felt her cool fingers at the back of his neck, drawing him down, nearer to her, and thought his heart would explode with the sweet sensation. Her skin was cool, fragrant and dewy; he arched back, so her slight weight fell against him, deepening the kiss. His lips moved along hers deliberately, inexorably, playing along the closed line of her mouth, inquisitive, demanding. His hands spanned the neat curve of her waist, before moving higher, one thumb grazing the soft underside of her breast.

  Breath catapulted from her lungs; she tore her lips away, rocking back violently from his intimate touch, in shock, in delight?—she knew not what. How to explain the incredible feelings that coursed through her, feelings that severed conscious thought from need? ‘What...’ she clutched at Lussac’s shoulders ‘...what is happening to me?’

  In response, he moved one hand beneath her knees, swung her above the lilting water. The thin, threadbare linen of her shift formed the only barrier between her hip and his hand splayed out possessively. The clear taste of his breath fanned over her face. ‘It hasn’t happened yet,’ he murmured, striding up the shallow bank with her, shouldering her easily.

  Excitement ripped through her at the unspoken promise of his words, her innards liquefying. Lussac laid her down in the tall, long grass, in a place where the sun met shade, where the hot drifting grass encountered the low, overhanging branches at the side of the river. The crushed grass beneath her back tickled, releasing the delicious scent of summer, warm, languorous. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her rapid heartbeat, the breakneck rush of her blood, sensing Lussa
c settle alongside her.

  Her eyes popped open. A rippling musculature of chest met her stunned expression, dark whorls of hair matting the polished, unyielding surface. ‘You’re naked!’ she squeaked. Her limbs dissolved beneath the brilliant heat of his gaze, diamond blue.

  His hand shook as he placed his palm flat in the middle of her belly. Flames of desire shot out from the spot, greedy, demanding, a tumultuous whirlpool of sensation that made her gasp with delight. Melting beneath his touch, her whole body lost grip on reality, the ropes tying her to the shores of reason, of logic, fraying rapidly, unravelling. She was adrift. The river, the fields, her life—all were consumed, devoured by that simple touch.

  He moved over her then, folding her into him, his hands in the glorious tumble of her hair, his mouth kissing the smooth skin of her forehead, her cheeks. Her diaphragm contracted, squeezed tight with delicious awareness, exhilaration leaping through her veins, pulsing through her heart. She wanted to scream out loud at the glorious sensation of his body, his hard, sinewy length against hers, chest against chest, hip against hip. His questing fingers worked their way down the slim column of her neck, nudging her delicate collar-bone, scorching along her body, down, down until she thought she would explode beneath his touch, the pulsating storm of need building forcefully within her.

  His hand caressed her hip, lifting the damp hem of her chemise. Warm air fluttered against her bare satiny skin, as his mouth captured hers once more, tongue plunging, exploring deep as he eased into her, slowly. Her body went taut, rigid, all sense of reason deserting her; she clung to his face, latching on to the feral glitter of eyes; her breath, her heart strung out with passion, vanquished. She made a small sound, a gasp of longing, of desire, moving her hands to his shoulders, then around to the muscular rope of his spine, clasping him closer.

  He heard that faint sound, the sound that broke down the last fragile barrier of his self-restraint, the promise to move slowly with her, to go easy. He surged into her, overtaken by a passion so exquisite that he lost all control. The brief resistance of her innocence checked him momentarily, before he buried himself in her, wholly, utterly. He moved within her, measured and slow at first and she began to move with him, the pale, slender column of her legs wrapped around his thighs, his calves, thick ropes of muscle. Katerina shuddered beneath him, marvelling at the swelling, eddying fullness within her, her fingers digging into the solid flesh of his back, his skin slicked with sweat. She closed her eyes, matching the increasing pace of his rhythm with a delighted eagerness of her own, feeling no pain at the loss of her virginity, but only pleasure, sweet, undiluted pleasure, building slowly, layer upon ecstatic layer to a point where she thought her heart would burst. Her flesh burned, hummed beneath his powerful thrusts, spiralling higher and higher, stretching taut. Ripples of desire began to roll through her body, gathering, threatening to consume her—nay, to overcome her! The man above her drove the very breath from her body as she clung to him, helpless, blinding flashes of light sparkling through her, cascading down in a shower of stars.

  She cried out then, as Lussac surged into her one final time, and the delicate, straining bubble that had held them together in thrall, swelled suddenly, then burst, ripping through them both with blistering violence, flooding glorious waves of desire through their exhausted, wrung-out bodies, spent. Lussac collapsed across her, breath in tatters, his body heavy, sated and alive.

  * * *

  Stunned, they lay there, bodies tangled across the scorched, flattened circle of grass. Hidden by tall, waving seed-heads, the beat of their blood slackened. Above their heads, a buzzard wheeled and circled, calling, a strange hollow cry across the sun-soaked land. Yet grey billowing clouds, great frothy lumps began to veil the sun, slowly eating into the patch of bright blue; a storm was imminent.

  Katerina had no wish to move, no wish to disturb the delicious heaviness of the man sprawled across her, his sturdy frame pinning her to the earth; she relished it. If only this moment could last for ever, the powerful muscle of his legs entwined with her own, the reassuring thump of his heart against the roundness of her breast. Her body quivered, thrummed from their love-making; how could she have known, predicted even, that a man and a woman, together, could find such ecstasy? Katerina smiled, hugging the blissful memory close, tucking it near to her heart. She would never forget.

  Slumped across Katerina like some uncouth lout, fingers embedded in the silken coils of her hair, Lussac knew he should move. But to move would be to admit what he had done and he wasn’t sure he wanted to face up to his own failings, not yet. Opening his eyes, he stared grimly at the squashed grass stalks a few inches from his face, flecks of floating seed brushing his lashes. Katerina’s cheek pressed against his, peachy skin rasped by his rough, prickly bristles; the pliable curve of her bosom nudged his chest.

  Could he admit to himself what had actually happened? He couldn’t quite believe it himself. In the past he had slept with countless beautiful women—why had this encounter been so very different? Because this time, he had lost control. For one single, glorious, unstoppable moment, he had forgotten who he was. The man he had been, a man stricken by trauma, beset by haunting, brutal memories—that man had vanished. And this maid, this beautiful, unconventional maid had done that for him. She had given herself to him freely, of her own volition, and he had taken her, fed on her, like some animal, all-consuming, greedy. What was it about her that drew him towards her, again and again? Shame stabbed through him, freezing his heart, locking up his feelings in a deep vault of guilt—how could he have done this to her?

  With a whispered curse, he rolled away from her and sprang to his feet, dragging on his braies, his boots. The curious heavy light from the sky shone down on the plane of his chest, the firm expanse of his belly. Katerina propped herself up on one elbow, her red-gold hair spilling out over the ground around her, trying to see the expression on his face. He dragged on his shirt, then his tunic, slinging his belt haphazardly around his waist.

  Sitting up, wrapping her chemise around her naked body, Katerina hugged her knees. She watched his resentful, dissatisfied actions with a dismal, fading heart. What had she hoped for? That in the act of making love she would change him, make him desire her? Humiliation flooded through her veins; she had exposed herself to him, eager and vulnerable in her innocence, and now she would have to endure his disdain, his dismissal of her.

  ‘Eager to leave?’ Katerina said scathingly. Only her quick wit could protect her now. ‘I knew you’d be like this.’ She flinched at the savage blurt of her own words—she had made it sound as if she’d planned their love-making.

  Her unexpected words astonished him. He stopped buckling his belt, staring down at her. ‘Like what?’

  Katerina hugged her knees. ‘You’ve kissed me before and found me lacking, remember? So what did you expect when you made love to me? I’m still the same person.’

  ‘Found you lacking?’ he repeated dumbly. He had no idea what she was talking about.

  ‘That’s what I said. I’m under no misconception.’ She laughed, the sound brittle, self-conscious, the words gouging a foul taste in her mouth. ‘I know I’m not to most men’s taste.’ Better for him to realise that he owed her nothing, was not responsible for her actions. She had been fully aware of what was about to happen, what had happened.

  ‘Have you completely lost your wits, Katerina?’ Fully dressed now, Lussac hunkered down, balancing beside her on the balls of his feet. He threw her a brief smile, but his eyes looked hollow, bleak.

  She was waiting for him to turn his back on her, to stalk off, so this approach was unexpected. ‘No,’ she replied, doubt shredding her voice, ‘but I know what I am.’

  A few drops of rain splattered down at the field edge, spotting the dry earth. A sift of air lifted through the trees, gaining strength. ‘And what is that?’ he asked.

  ‘Do I really have to say?
’ She arched one fine eyebrow in his direction. ‘I’m too short, too thin, too wayward.’ She drew a deep shaky breath, a fine blush seeping over her cheeks, smoothing her hands tremulously over her lap.

  He was shaking his head. ‘You have no idea, do you? My God, Katerina, you are beautiful, don’t you realise?’ She squinted up at him, not understanding. Lussac took a deep, unsteady breath, reaching up to cup her cheek in his warm, rough palm. ‘I cannot keep my hands off you; it’s me who should be apologising.’

  ‘Why?’ A warm, rosy glow swept through her frame; he thought she was beautiful. Hope fluttered, rising above her on fragile wings, suspended.

  ‘I took advantage of you,’ he murmured. His hand dropped and he stood up, the movement abrupt, awkward. ‘It should never have happened.’

  ‘But I don’t understand...’ Katerina clambered to her feet, his brutal words dashing her down once more. A vast sadness swept over her; she had been so certain he felt nothing for her, but here he was telling her he was attracted to her, yet he shouldn’t have lain with her. In his last words, she had dared to hope, to dream that there might be something more to their lovemaking than a tumble in the grass. It seemed she might have dared too much. Her heart collapsed in on itself, shrouded in grief.

  ‘Lussac, listen to me.’ She thumped at his shoulder. ‘I knew what I was doing...’ The air around them had turned cold, the rain intensifying, gathering strength. Katerina shivered.

  ‘You should have pushed me away.’ The rich melodious timbre of his voice swept over her, condemned her.

  ‘Why?’ she cried out unhappily. The rain sluiced over her face, hanging from her dark lashes, diamond drops. ‘Why, when it was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced in my life? Why would I push you away, Lussac? Why?’

  Her simple speech knocked the breath from his lungs. He had never heard a woman speak thus, with such raw, blinding truth, such clarity. Did she honestly mean what she said? He stared at her forlorn figure through the slanting rain, the strengthening wind pinning gauzy folds to her perfect curves, to the body she had so willingly given to him. His heart twisted in shame. Every word she spoke merely strengthened the bonds between them, the stiffening ties that he had to break, had to cut loose from, if either of them were to survive at all.