by Jillian Hart
“Then do not try.” He heard the words in her heart. And it would be easier to never hear her speak of her love for him.
The door burst open and Edward approached, with what seemed like an army behind him. Surprise, then pleasure lit the king’s face. “Malcolm. ’Tis true. You live.”
“Aye. I drank little of the second cup of poisoned wine, what with Elin charging into the room like a madwoman.” He read at once the grim intention on his king’s face. “Do not take her, Edward. She saved my life.”
“She threatened mine and my men’s.”
Elin straightened and dashed the tears from her eyes. “’Tis true. I know the penalty of my actions. I only ask that you not punish Giles, Justus and Hugh. They acted out of loyalty to their commander.”
“And you? What did you act out of?” Edward demanded.
She bowed her chin. A thousand retorts sat upon her tongue, and yet the true answer frightened her because of the hold it placed upon her heart. “For love, sire.”
“And you would risk your life for love? Defy your king?”
She felt so foolish and far too sentimental. “I would not have harmed you. When I smelled the oakwood I knew the danger. I would have used my sword to stop the healer, but you stepped in my way.”
Edward scowled, and she read no mercy on his over-bearing face.
Malcolm sat, then stood, looking as fierce as his king. “Let my wife stay, Edward. Think of the trouble she will cause in your tower.”
“I shall not forgive you, Lady Elinore.” Edward vibrated with fury. “But Malcolm values your life, and so I will grant him this favor.”
Elin watched in disbelief as the king turned, leaving her without punishment. She dropped to her knees. “Thank you, sire.”
“You came close to losing your head.” Malcolm’s touch to her shoulder drew her around. “And what a pity that would be. I’ve grown fond of you.”
“Truly?”
“Aye.”
He was trembling with weakness, but discovered the strength to pull her close. She found a tenderness unparalleled in his arms as hard as steel.
“I was wrong about you, lady,” Ian admitted as he brought her the tray of food from the servants in the corridor. “I beg your forgiveness.”
“You well know I broke a few laws.” Elin took the tray from him and set it down on the table. Malcolm slept on his stomach, sprawled across the large bed. Safe, at last.
“It has already been tasted.” Ian gestured toward the trenchers of steaming food. “Will he recover his strength? Edward feared the effects of the poison.”
“He has trouble moving now, but I believe ’tis only temporary. I’ve seen lasting paralysis from poisons, and Malcolm has few signs of it.” Elin could not stop the warmth in her heart when she looked upon her husband asleep. He was a beautiful man in many ways. “Glad I am he has such loyal friends to protect him.”
“That was the reason I decided not to slay you when you defied the king. Giles stood by you, and he has known Malcolm the longest. He would never do him harm.”
“Nor would any of his men. They are loyal.”
“You would be surprised.” Ian’s face darkened with regret as he stepped from the chamber. “Loyalty is a great bond, but there are stronger ones.”
Like love.
She knew she was becoming victim to sentimental feelings, but she carried a trencher and goblet to the bedside anyway. If she made Malcolm weak, as he claimed, then he made her weak as well. They would be weak sentimental fools together.
“Nay, no more water.” Malcolm stirred. “There was a day when I would have killed for a drop. Now you’ve given me so much, I feel ready to burst.”
“Drink anyway.” She set the goblet to his lips. “The cook has sent up smoked salmon, if you can stomach it. I’m told ’tis your favorite.”
“I am no mewling babe who needs waiting upon.” He sat weakly, his mouth a grimace, his muscles straining. “Just hand me the trencher.”
“Let me serve you.” She broke off a piece of fish and placed it upon his lips.
His mouth took the morsel and her finger in a brief lave of pleasure that left her tingling. “You improve the taste of the salmon.”
“Are you saying I taste fishy?”
“Mayhap I should investigate further.” His lips slanted over hers with a gentle possessiveness that both soothed and excited. “I taste no fish, only passion.”
“Behave, Husband.” She broke off another bite of salmon. “You are an ill man, and this time you will rest and recover. Or else I’ll take my sword to you.”
“I quake with terror.” He ate from her fingertips with the brush of lips and tongue.
“More water.” She lifted the goblet to his mouth and held it steady while he drank. “Your color is much improved. The fever is all but gone.”
“Have you been at my side all night?”
“Aye, and the nights before that.”
“I remember.” He broke off a segment of salmon. The heat of his fingertips sizzled like new embers upon her lips as he fed it to her. “I cannot recall a time when a woman tended me without thought of compensation.”
She claimed the piece of meat with her tongue. How sweet it tasted. “Compensation? Ha! I knew saving your life would bring me some benefit.”
“A few gold coins, but no more.”
“Just a few?” she teased. “Mayhap there are more pleasurable benefits I can reap.”
“Aye, certain physical ones.” He accepted more food from her fingertips.
Heat twisted low in her stomach. Well she remembered their night of passion. Her body burned for more of his touch. “You’re still weak.”
He set aside the trencher. “Aye, but I am a man of great stamina.”
“You, sir, are not as invincible as you think.”
Regret clung to his face. “With the life I live, that is the only reason I have survived.”
She never considered that Malcolm might not have chosen his way of life. He seemed to have been destined for knighthood, with his body of legendary strength. He’d faced battles, criminals, war and slavery. How had the tenderness in him endured through such hardships and horrors?
“Glad I am that you live, Malcolm.” She allowed him to roll her beneath him on the mattress. “I would never harm you.”
“You poisoned me once.”
“Aye, but you were a stranger to me. And a terrifying one.” She ducked as he rolled her gown over her head, leaving her naked before him.
His eyes darkened as his gaze raked over her bared breasts. “Do you poison all unfamiliar men you come across?”
“’Twould be the wisest way to deal with them. I never know when they will strip off my clothes and overpower me.”
“Like this?”
Her breath caught as his mouth descended upon one peaked nipple. “Aye, like that.”
“Then I approve of your manner of dealing with strangers.” His words flickered across skin made damp and sensitive by his demanding mouth. “You are mine and mine alone.”
A bright white pleasure speared through her as his mouth claimed her breasts. She felt tugging arcs of sensation and the stroking heat of his tongue. His fingers dove through curls and dampness to stroke the part of her that opened and ached for him. Sparks of heat bucked through her hips. She arched into his hand and was rewarded with more sharp pleasure.
She wanted to touch him. To know the feel of his beautiful hardness. But when her hands reached out to caress him, he moved away, disregarding her need to give him pleasure. His kiss trailed down the length of her belly, laving and nipping and sucking.
“You taste like flame.” His tongue laved lower still, touching her most vulnerable part. He kissed and caressed, his hands stroking her thighs, his mouth nuzzling heat and skin and that spot that made her toes curl and a moan tear from her throat.
“Malcolm, you torture me.” She clamped her teeth, her hands clenching around the hard columns of his arms.
&nbs
p; “You can endure more.” His chuckle raked across heat and dew. His tongue did the same.
“I cannot. I swear it.”
But like breath against embers, the flame grew, building into a fire so great it ignited every part of her. She burned with a need that drew her up and into his arms.
His moan was pleasure against her mouth, and he forced her to her back with the hard sweet burden of his weight. His erection blazed against her thigh, iron hard. She was already open to him as he nudged apart her hot, swollen folds. She felt his back muscles bunch and ripple beneath her hands as he thrust into her.
She moaned at the way he stretched her and filled her. She wrapped her arms around his back and held tight as he pinned her to the mattress, thrusting hard and deep. A thrilling brightness built where they joined. Flare upon flare of luminous pleasure drove her up to meet him and twisted through her arching back.
He bucked ruthlessly in short, quick, unbearable thrusts. Like an explosion of flame and heat, release roared through her with a tight, throbbing radiance. Malcolm growled, pumping his hot seed deep inside her. Ripples shivered through those muscles stretched tight around him, and she cried out again, lost in pleasure.
“Aye, but you are sweetness.” His lips grazed hers, not with a branding strength but a tender affection.
Her heart twisted with a strong, pure love. It hurt so much her eyes teared. She buried her face in his chest and held him tightly. Sobs racked her body, and she fought them.
“Did I hurt you, dove?” He brushed away tangled curls to press a gentle kiss upon her brow.
“Aye.” She burrowed into the curve of his neck and shoulder.
His arms enfolded her with a lover’s care and he sighed. “I was rough with you.”
“Nay, it was not that.”
“Then how did I hurt you?”
“This tenderness.”
“Aye, love is a different kind of pain.” His kiss was soft like the brush of an angel’s wing. “It is one that never stops hurting.”
Her chest ached, her whole heart so vulnerable she did not think she could endure a moment more. Tears came, and with it more of Malcolm’s kisses. He made love to her again, their bodies joining in a conflagration of fire and emotion so great it tore down the last wall around her heart. Vulnerable and defenseless, she held him close as he loved her all over again.
“The healer confessed to being half sister to Rees the Great.” Edward signaled for wine. “She said that a man claiming to work with Rees had her youngest son taken hostage to force your death.” Edward took a chalice of wine from a tray.
Malcolm declined the wine. He paced to the window, where the gardens below shimmered a verdant green in the spring rains. “They are a threat to you, Edward.”
“And to you, friend. The gift of the barony has angered some, but I think that is not the whole story.”
Malcolm closed his eyes. “The question remains. Who would kill for my barony and wants your throne?”
Edward joined him at the window. “Ever since your lady wife first sliced Caradoc’s belly years ago, none save my greedy nephew have asked for her hand, even for so great a barony. It is not the barony Rees wanted, nor was it revenge. It was only money he desired. If I were murdered, what would you do?”
“Hunt down the men responsible and destroy them.”
“Aye. ’Tis the reason they want you dead.”
Malcolm rubbed his brow and stared again at the peaceful gardens. “So, now you believe Elin did not poison me?”
“Aye, although come the morrow, she will be banished from this court forever.” Edward’s jaw tensed. “If you are not happy with her, I can find you another more suitable—”
“Nay.” The thought of losing Elin drove pain through his chest. “I’m pleased enough with the wife I have.”
“A delicate flower of a woman would be easily crushed by you, but Lady Elinore is not delicate.” The king paused. “Is this your motive?”
“Lily is gone from my heart, Edward. I have forgotten her.”
“But not forgiven.”
“Elin is like any woman, and in time she will learn I cannot return her love. I hope that will not turn her against me.” Regret pummeled him. And he wished—how he wished—he were a different man.
“Does she please you?”
Malcolm remembered the blaze of her passion, bright and pure, the grip of her gloving tightness, the cries of her release. His blood heated, and tenderness glowed within his chest. “She pleases me better than any other.”
The king shook his head, disapproving but resigned. “Then if you want the harridan, perchance a babe might keep her loyal to you.”
“Mothers have strong bonds to their children.” Malcolm would consider it. “Such a bond turned a trusted and respected healer into a would-be killer.”
“A mother will do aught for a child, including not hand the father over to his enemy.” Edward turned. “Tell me what you wish done with the healer who nearly killed you.”
Malcolm rubbed his sword arm, which was numb and lethargic, an effect of the poison. “I would rescue her son.”
The king shook his head. “’Tis as I suspected—love would soften you.”
Soften him? Nay. No woman could ever change him that much. “I cannot deny any warmth for Elin, but that is all.”
“We shall see, friend. Come, call your men. Mayhap the boy lives. I’ve kept silent the news of your improved condition. There could still be a chance to catch the traitor.”
When Malcolm threw open the chamber door, he found her there, calm and quiet and beautiful. Even looking at Elin brought him pleasure. His chest tightened. Nay, he could not deny his soft feelings for her.
Lost in thought, she perched on the floor in front of her herb basket. Her reddish-gold tresses curled gracefully down her slim back. Her gown of blue swirled around her. She sat with her chin propped on the heels of her hands.
Starlight graced her in silvery shadows, and she appeared lost in thought.
“Contemplating your next poison?”
She jumped, hand flying to her dagger. “Malcolm! What are you doing lurking in the shadows?”
“Watching you.” He knelt to replace the burned out stub in the holder with a new candle. “Look how disaster reigns in this world. I do a serving wench’s work while a woman sits and thinks.”
A wry humor sparkled in her eyes. “Now I regret destroying those oakwood berries. ’Tis always good to have a way to threaten an insolent husband.”
Her teasing lightened his heart. She burned with a brightness that warmed him, and remembering Edward’s offer to find him a different wife, his chest ached. Truly ached.
He grabbed his bag and tossed it on the bed, preparing to pack. “What weighs upon your mind so heavily, Elin?”
Silence answered as her gaze returned to the many leather pouches and crocks within that woven basket. “My herbs.”
“You’re a woman with much knowledge of them.”
“Aye.”
For all her ferocity, she was a tiny woman, more bone and muscle than generous womanly curves. More character than substance. She looked so troubled. What would she debate so seriously? “I know there are ways to prevent conception. Is this what you are busy pondering?”
“I have not decided.” Her chin jutted forward. Her shoulders slumped. “Are you angry? A new baron wants for sons.”
“I am not angered.” He could not stay the urge to reach out, and his fingers curved around the fragile bones of her neck. “I do not blame you for your uncertainty. Many a woman would not wish to have a babe with a man who can never love her.”
Her chin dipped another notch. “I know not what to do. You possess a kindness well hidden behind your fierceness, but I’ve not seen you with a child. There is much I do not know about you. For instance, would you punish your daughter by locking her up in the dungeon for nights upon end?”
“Ah, dove.” His conscience bit like a dog with sharp teeth. ’Twas a sensati
on he’d not felt for more years than he could count. “Is that how you knew to force the lock on the chains?”
She nodded, the bones of her spine feeling delicate beneath his palm.
Warmth swept through his chest. Where was this tenderness toward her coming from? It crept up like a silent wave and flooded him with an affection he could not claim. “I would like a son with you, Elin. Think what a great knight he would make.”
He meant to tease a smile to her lips, but her frown remained. She cleared her throat, and her eyes shimmered with vulnerability. “When a wife becomes a mother, she is more bound to her husband than before. If he treats her ill, she cannot fight or flee.”
“Still, after all we’ve shared, you are afraid of me.” He hauled her against him and saw the anguish upon her face. How it saddened him. “Much has been forced upon you, and quickly. Marriage to a stranger, battle and intimacy. But we’ve spent time enough together for you to see the man I am inside.”
Her eyes brimmed with silvered tears. They did not fall. “I know the manner of the man, but not the husband.”
“You know both.” How he wanted to drive her doubt away. He slanted his lips on hers in a kiss both tender and claiming.
She opened her mouth and her tongue brushed his. She did not hold back her affection. The warmth of it beat in his thickening blood and flamed within his chest. Why he felt this for her, he did not know. But he was glad. Very glad.
“I want a son. I want our lives bound to one another, Elin, for I do not want to lose you.” A better man would command, not ask for an heir. But he knew well how this marriage might end. He caught her mouth with his in a kiss both ardent and sizzling.
She arched against him, and it was all he needed. He carried her to the bed, burrowing beneath her clothes as he went. He laid her upon the mattress and climbed over her. She welcomed him with a heat that drove him beyond all control. He set a fast grinding rhythm and too soon she cried out. His release gripped the base of his spine and radiated outward. She clung to him as pleasure tore through him, sharp and pulsing.
