His mouth left hers, and he pressed hot kisses to her long, delicate throat. Elizabeth gasped, holding him to her. And he felt his own passion heightened by hers—what pleasured her, pleasured him.
The knowledge hit him like the dead-on blow of a lance.
He stiffened, drawing away from her. Elizabeth’s lips were swollen from his kisses, and her eyes were heavy with desire. Even now, as her expression began to change to one of surprise and bewilderment, Raynor wanted to kiss her again, to draw her further into that state of longing.
With an incredible force of will, Raynor took his hands away from her back. This was not what he’d wanted. He was trying to show himself that Elizabeth was insignificant, just another woman, a body to take.
Then why was the thought of giving her joy more compelling than that of taking his own?
Somehow, somewhere, things had gone dreadfully awry, and Raynor had proved nothing of what he meant to.
Confusion made him awkward. He stepped away from her. “We...” he started, then cleared his throat when his voice emerged rough and husky. “We had best get back to the others. With the bridge out, we must needs find another or try to ford the river with the oxen and wagons.”
Elizabeth stood looking at him in obvious agitation. “Raynor, what is going on? Have you lost your wits?”
Truth to tell, Raynor felt as if he had. But right now he did not know what to do about it. There was no answer he could find that she would understand, so he remained silent. He was out of his depth with this woman, and knew it.
She tried to meet his gaze, but he avoided her as he went to his horse. Seeing that he would not reply, Elizabeth stamped her foot and mounted her own mare, starting down the road ahead of him at a gallop.
He made no effort to catch her. Raynor knew there was nothing he could say to pacify her.
All he did know was that this could not happen again.
Chapter Five
On the second morning of waking in a tent, Elizabeth emerged to discover that they were only a few miles east of a village called Westcott. She knew that if they kept traveling in this same direction they would pass within a very few leagues of her brother Henry’s main holding of Claymoore before nightfall.
She had not spoken to Raynor at all since that first afternoon when he had kissed her. And though it galled her to approach her husband with even the smallest request, she wanted to see her brother and his family. It wasn’t an unreasonable query, as they would be so very close, and who knew when she would have an opportunity to visit them again?
Yet it was not easy to think of asking Raynor for anything at this point.
She flushed with shame as she remembered what had happened the day they raced. Raynor had kissed her, then turned on her as if she had somehow wronged him.
But what really made her want to stay away from him was the way she had reacted. Elizabeth could not have explained it even to herself. Every time Raynor touched her, it was as if she lost all sense of self. He had only to put his hands on her, his lips on hers, and all thought of anything else dissolved. It was as if there were some magical spell on her body, and Raynor were the magician who could conjure it.
Well, Elizabeth was not going to let that rule her. If she could do nothing about her reactions to him, she would simply have to learn to conceal them.
Her husband need not think she would be embarrassed into hiding from him.
With her head held high, Elizabeth walked through the camp. There were four tents erected around a central fire. The wagons were drawn up close behind the tents to make them easier to guard against thieves. She knew Raynor kept a watch posted every night for just this purpose, even though it was unlikely that anyone would be foolish enough to attack the armed party of a nobleman.
The fire had not been lit this morning, so she could only assume they would be eating dried meat and old bread—again. The one good thing was that the weather had turned milder again, so she had slept reasonably warmly.
On asking Noland, who was attending the horses, of her husband’s whereabouts, Elizabeth was told he was in his tent.
She looked toward it where it lay, directly across from hers. Elizabeth would have laughed, were she not so irritated with Raynor. For clearly he had placed it as far from her own as possible.
Unexpectedly, this gave her some insight into Raynor; he was not so very sure of himself as he seemed.
Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth strode directly to the tent and then stopped. She could hear Raynor’s and what sounded like Bronic’s voices coming from inside. What halted her was that she wasn’t at all sure of the protocol for entering.
One could hardly knock.
Did she simply lift the flap and go inside? It seemed unlikely.
Shrugging, Elizabeth decided to take a direct approach. Loudly she spoke her husband’s name. “My lord Warwicke.”
Silence ensued. Then the tent flap was pulled back and a dark head appeared. Raynor’s eyes fixed on her with chagrin. “Lady Elizabeth? How may I assist you?”
She smiled politely. “I have a boon to ask of you, my lord.”
His tone was wary when he answered, “A boon? What might that be?”
She looked around. Some of the others had come out, and were gazing at them with open curiosity. It was no secret that lord and lady had not so much as spoken for days.
Turning to Raynor again, she smiled and addressed him most cordially. “Might we not be more comfortable inside, my lord?”
Seeming surprised at her pleasant demeanor, but still with an expression of reluctance, Raynor stepped back, holding the flap open for her to follow him. “Aye, come in then, if you desire.”
It was not an enthusiastic invitation, but Elizabeth supposed it was the most she could hope for. She went in, being careful not to touch Raynor as she moved by him. If he was aware of her action, he made no sign.
Inside the tent was the same dim interior as in hers. Two bedrolls lay on the ground. But here both Raynor and Bronic’s weapons rested on a cloak that had been placed beside the doorway.
Bronic stood to the side. He nodded politely as she looked at him. “Good day, Lady Elizabeth.”
She returned the greeting. “Sir Bronic. I hope I have not interrupted something important.” She glanced from one man to the other.
Raynor shrugged. “We were discussing today’s route. After fording the river the other day, we must be certain to take a course that will not force us to do so again, if we can avoid it.”
As he mentioned the fording, Elizabeth could have sworn the color deepened in Raynor’s cheeks. But it was hard to be sure. His face was deeply tanned, and the light in the tent was not good.
She looked to Bronic. It did no good to try to fathom Raynor and his reactions to anything. “That is why I have come to speak with you. My brother lives some few hours from here, and I was hoping we could abide there for a night. I trust it is not out of our path.”
“Where does your brother live?” Raynor asked.
When Elizabeth turned to him, she saw he was frowning. “Claymoore,” she answered. “It is his seat. I do not mean to inconvenience you, but we are so close, and...” Elizabeth stopped and took a deep breath as her voice broke. “I know not when I might see them again.” Her gaze captured Raynor’s.
For a long time, he said nothing, and Elizabeth glanced toward Bronic in appeal. Raynor seemed to listen to him, if no one else.
But no help came from that quarter. Bronic’s expression was intent but noncommittal as he watched the other man.
Finally Raynor answered. “Aye, we will go to your brother. But make note, madame.” His gaze held hers. “We can stay no longer than one night. I have pressing matters to attend at Warwicke, and have already been delayed.”
At his words, Elizabeth’s heart soared. Though she could not fully understand why, it moved her beyond reason that Raynor would do this for her. But she made no outward show, knowing he would not thank her for making much of his kindness.
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She simply inclined her head, offering him a smile of genuine warmth. “You have my thanks, my lord.”
* * *
Raynor frowned, his hands tightening on the reins. He did not want to spend the night at Claymoore.
But Elizabeth had asked so politely and reasonably. And Bronic had looked on with such avid interest that he felt churlish for even thinking of refusing. After the scene between them two days ago, when he had made such a fool of himself by catching her up and riding off with her, Raynor felt compelled to be scrupulously fair in his dealings with his wife. It was true he needed to get back to Warwicke, but they would be stopping for the night anyway. It would as well be with her family.
And more than that, if he was honest with himself, he knew he was doing what she asked for another reason. Raynor felt guilt at the way he had treated her when he kissed her. Elizabeth had not deserved that. It was his own lack of control that had upset him.
Raynor now knew that he had best not touch Elizabeth at all, if he meant to keep his autonomy. He had no intention of giving that up for a woman.
And Elizabeth was more threat to his self-control than any woman he’d ever known. She spoke and behaved in ways that were completely foreign and amazing to him. Even that day when he came out and accused her of being attracted to him, she had surprised Raynor. Elizabeth had not become coy, nor postured and denied, she’d admitted the truth and stood proudly before him.
Raynor also felt that it would be well to be in company, if only to give himself something to think about other than the deep blue of Elizabeth’s eyes, or the way her black hair fell in ebony curls down her back.
But when they arrived at Claymoore castle, the party learned that the baron and his family were not in residence. They were at Landview, his wife’s keep, which was several hours away.
Irritated at the further delay, Raynor nonetheless said nothing. He had agreed to visit his wife’s family, and would follow through. He indicated that Elizabeth should show them the way.
As the single tower at Landview came into sight some hours later, Raynor found his annoyance dissolving at the unadulterated happiness on Elizabeth’s face. He pushed the feeling down, telling himself he hadn’t brought her here for any reason other than to be scrupulously fair. He did not care what pleased or displeased his wife. But he couldn’t deny that for a moment the sensation he felt at seeing her joy had been pleasant. And that left him feeling strangely unsettled.
He didn’t want to care about Elizabeth, or what made her happy.
On gaining the inner courtyard, they were met by Henry, baron of Clayburn. He had obviously been practicing at arms, for he wore mail and carried his sword in one hand and a helm in the other. His black hair was matted to his head, and sweat beaded his strong, handsome face, but his startlingly golden eyes were lit with both surprise and pleasure.
Henry dropped the items as he rushed toward Elizabeth, plucking his sister from her horse and swinging her about.
A gay laugh rang out, the sound vibrating sweetly along the back of Raynor’s neck. At first he didn’t understand whence the sound had come. And then he knew. It was Elizabeth, and this was the first time he had heard her laugh with such joy.
Henry Clayburn set Elizabeth on her feet, and she threw her arms around his neck to hug him. Then Raynor watched as his wife swung around upon hearing a woman’s voice calling out to her.
Raynor, too, turned at the hail and saw a tall woman, her wheat-gold hair pulled back in a braid. She came down the stone steps of the keep slowly, carefully leading a little boy of perhaps two by one hand. The little fellow’s hair was a cap of black, and his large eyes were a vivid gold, like his father’s. Her other hand rested on the gentle swell of her stomach. She was a beautiful woman, with direct gray eyes and strikingly sculptured features, pleasingly round at hip and breast, despite her pregnancy. A woman to make any man look twice.
But as Elizabeth ran toward her, enfolding the newcomer in her arms, Raynor realized he found her slighter more delicate frame more to his taste.
Unaware of her husband’s thoughts, Elizabeth cried out cheerily, “Aileen, you sent no word! When is the babe to come?”
The other woman smiled ruefully, looking to her husband. “Not for some three months. Henry was to send word to you ere long.”
Releasing the woman, Elizabeth bent to take the little boy up in her arms. “It matters not, except you’d best let Stephen know soon. And how is little Henry?” she greeted, kissing the little one’s fair cheek.
He giggled and planted a wet kiss on her own cheek.
Henry turned to Raynor, his visage pleasant, but confused. “By the way, where is our brother? And who is this come with you, Beth?”
Looking to her husband, as if just remembering his presence, Elizabeth simply stood there for a long moment. Then, with an unaccustomed shyness Raynor had never seen her exhibit heretofore, she went to his side. Standing stiffly beside him, she smiled and said, “This is my husband, Raynor, baron of Warwicke.”
The next silence stretched on for what seemed like hours.
Elizabeth knew that Henry was more than a little shocked. As head of the family, Henry had a right to be consulted as to her marriage. Not that he would ever try to make that decision for her. He would simply expect the formalities to be observed as a gesture to his position. Henry was a stickler for such things.
Besides, he was her brother and loved her greatly. That she would marry without even telling him must hurt a little, at the very least. But for the life of her, Elizabeth knew not what to say.
Besides, the unexpected news must be doubly hard to digest, as she knew her brothers had almost despaired of her taking a husband.
It was Aileen who recovered first. She moved forward to hug Elizabeth, despite little Henry, who squirmed between them. “You have my congratulations,” she said, then turned to Raynor. “Elizabeth’s husband is most welcome, is he not, Henry?”
The baron of Clayburn was a still a little slow to react, but at last he moved forward to hold Elizabeth close. Then he drew back when Henry complained at his father’s fervor. “Beth, why didn’t you send word? We would have come to attend the wedding. You are my only sister.”
She shrugged out of his arms, turning to her husband. She hoped Raynor would not tell them the circumstances of their marriage. She did not want to face any recriminations from Henry. He could be quite overpowering at times, even though he meant well. Elizabeth knew she had made a mistake in dining alone with Raynor and was responsible for everything that had occurred because of it. She did not need her brother to tell her that.
Obviously Raynor decided to heed the pleading in her eyes, for he turned to Henry, holding out a hand as if asking for understanding. “I am most sorry for not inviting you, my lord Clayburn. But we came to a decision in the matter in haste, and your brother Stephen was inclined to agree with us.”
Henry frowned, and Elizabeth could tell he would have much to say to his younger brother on the subject when next they met.
Of course, Stephen would tell Henry what had happened, and Elizabeth knew that was the right thing to do. She also knew that she should tell Henry right now. But she was feeling vulnerable and unsure as never in her life, and did not wish to discuss her marital problems with anyone. Least of all her volatile older brother.
When Henry continued to scowl but said nothing, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. By the time Henry was able to question Stephen, she would be gone to Warwicke, and thus spared any recrimination about her foolishness.
Elizabeth cast Raynor a quick smile of gratitude. She didn’t know why her husband had protected her, but she felt a small glimmer of warmth near her heart. Mayhap he did feel at least some small bit of allegiance toward her.
But Elizabeth could not allow herself to dwell on that now. She dared not hope for too much.
What she needed most was to find her equilibrium and keep it, if she was going to be able to deal with the unpredictable Raynor. Thei
r relationship was complicated at best, and could turn disastrous at any time. As she had seen the day he kissed her.
It would be best not to press him too hard.
With that in mind, she turned to Aileen, thinking that if they went into the keep it might relieve some of the tension between them. There was nothing to be gained in standing about the courtyard, feeling self-conscious. The more active they were, the less likely it was that Henry would ask a question she did not wish to answer. Elizabeth said, “Now that that is all settled, I would love nothing so much as a hot bath.”
Aileen laughed, taking her sister-by-marriage’s arm to lead her into the keep. “Forgive me for forgetting how tired you must be.” She looked over at Raynor, including him in the comment.
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