by Julia Latham
Chapman arched a brow, his expression turning cool. “You heard about my outing with Mistress Sarah.”
“She told me about it. She felt so bad that I, as a guest, had nothing special to do that she invited me along.”
He waited for Chapman to scoff, to become angry, to show something. But the man had a belief in himself that only allowed him to nod.
“By all means, Sir Robert, do join us,” he said. “How kind of Mistress Sarah to take pity on you.”
Robert laughed, reluctantly admiring the man.
But Chapman was a member of the Ramsey garrison, a knight who’d served under Francis’s guardian. It could not hurt for Robert to learn more of the knight who controlled Francis’s inheritance, his very life.
As Robert donned his own chest and back plates, Chapman waited with his sword tip in the ground, both gauntleted hands resting on the hilt.
Chapman said, “Mistress Sarah is a gentle woman, but you do not expect me to take pity on you.”
The morning had just become more interesting. “Of course not, Sir Simon. I assume you do not yet have a sparring partner.”
“As a matter of fact, I do not. Are you volunteering, Sir Robert?”
“I will always volunteer my services to help those in need.”
Chapman gave a faint smile. “Then consider me in need of a demonstration of your skill.”
Robert bowed, even as he turned to examine a collection of swords. There were some who would only use their own, but he always preferred to test his worth with any weapon at hand, for as a Bladesman, one never knew what weapon might be his only resort in battle.
When he felt someone watching him, he looked up, expecting to see Chapman, but it was Walter who regarded him coolly. He hefted his chosen sword in an informal salute to his partner, who only nodded in return.
As usual, much of the tiltyard paused to see how the men representing the king fared in practice. Robert had grown used to the curiosity these past few days. Chapman glanced about briefly at the unabashed attention, then donned his helm.
Robert had studied the technique of every man practicing each day, committing strengths and weaknesses to memory in case he had to face a man in battle rather than training. Although Chapman had proven himself quick in reflex, his swordsmanship was average at best, and not very original. Robert would have to make the fight seem even, without overwhelming and embarrassing his opponent.
But Chapman seemed inspired after learning about Robert’s intrusion on his time with Sarah. Robert actually enjoyed himself, testing the knight’s defenses, parrying aside several unexpected sword thrusts. Chapman’s final slash had Robert rolling on the ground to avoid the sword, then coming up to knock it from the knight’s hand.
Chapman stood still a moment, breathing hard, his hand surely stinging from the blow though he tried not to show it.
“Well done, Sir Robert.”
He grinned. “I return the compliment, sir.”
“The way you disarmed me—I barely saw the twist of your wrist. Quite a skill.”
Robert only bowed. Around them, he heard the clash of swords as other men continued their practice now that the display was over.
“How are you with a dagger?” Chapman asked, with no attempt at casualness.
He chuckled. “Fighting with one, or throwing it?”
“Throwing it.”
“Fair, I would say,” he lied. “Shall we test my ability?”
Sarah felt almost pretty after changing into a red gown. She’d convinced herself to look forward to her afternoon courtship. Having two suitors should be enjoyable—
If only she were playing fair with them both.
But she wasn’t. She was treating Simon lightly, unable to be careful about hurting his feelings when her own life was in danger. And now she might hurt him worse, as she used him to make Robert jealous. This was not her finest moment, but she was desperate.
And then there was Robert, whom she wanted to kiss until she was senseless—yet she could not trust him in the least. He’d lied to her, even though he had reason, and she sensed there were other things he was not telling her. How could she be certain if he wanted to prove her innocence—or her guilt? Were they simply using each other, for different reasons? Yet none of that seemed to matter when she was in his arms. All she wanted to do then was…feel.
There was a quick knock on her door, and she wondered if someone had grown too impatient. But before she could even call out, the door opened and Margery ducked inside.
The seamstress grinned. “Guess what.”
“I cannot imagine,” she said, hands on her hips. Though her first instinct lately was to assume the worst, Margery’s demeanor discouraged that.
“Sir Simon and Sir Robert challenged each other today on the tiltyard.”
“Challenged?” Sarah repeated incredulously. “Seriously challenged?”
“Challenged as a means of trainin’.”
Robert had been trained in London, skilled perhaps far more than Simon. And he knew it. What kind of tension would permeate what was supposed to be a pleasant afternoon—or did she want that tension simmering between them? But she couldn’t allow Robert to know that. She would have to pretend outrage for his benefit.
Margery considered her with obvious curiosity. “By yer expression, ye’re not pleased.”
“I am not. Where is Sir Robert at this moment?”
“Changin’ his garments. I understand that you, he, and Sir Simon are supposed to meet—”
“My plans are already known?” she cried in disbelief.
Margery spread her hands wide in a helpless shrug. “Not exactly, but Sir Simon was makin’ it no secret that you and he—”
Sarah groaned and swept past her friend. “Will you still be able to eat with Francis at dinner?” she called over her shoulder.
“Of course! And I will be receivin’ details when ye return?”
“If I leave anyone alive.”
She heard Margery’s laughter even as she marched down the corridor. Rather than cross the open courtyard, she followed the passage beneath the guest lodgings, then stomped up the circular stairs to Robert and Walter’s chambers. She banged on the door, then threw it open, expecting to ascend another floor to his bedchamber, but came up short in stunned disbelief.
Robert was sitting in a bathing tub before the bare hearth in the outer chamber.
Naked.
They stared at each other in surprise. She should have given him her back immediately, or at least turned her gaze away while she debated how best to handle such a situation—especially after he gave her a slow, knowing smile.
But she couldn’t look away. She simply stared at him with wide, appreciative eyes. She knew a man’s body, of course, but her husband had been the son of a landowner, more concerned with business dealings than the tiltyard. He paid for whatever military protection he’d deemed necessary.
But Robert’s wide shoulders and muscular chest spoke of a very different life. Scars nicked his flesh here and there, but they did not detract from his handsomeness.
He didn’t even cover himself, she thought, forcing her sagging mouth to close. Instead, he spread his arms on the rim on the tub, which looked too small to contain him.
She found herself wondering how else his physique differed from her late husband’s.
“Does someone else need the bathing tub?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted in a deliberate taunt.
“Why are you not in your bedchamber?” Instead of commanding, she sounded far too breathless.
“The two footmen were so scrawny, I didn’t have the heart to ask them to carry this up another floor, let alone make so many trips with the water buckets.” He grinned and sent a splash toward her that didn’t quite reach. “But I commend their diligence, for the water is hot.”
“To soothe your aches?” she asked between gritted teeth, reminding herself that she had to pretend to be angry.
“My aches?”
“Or
was the only pain to your pride, after your deliberate battle with my suitor?”
She stalked toward him, and to her satisfaction, that damnable smile of his began to fade.
Chapter 14
Robert had been surprised when Sarah barged into his lodgings. Walter could return at any moment, and that would not bode well for his future. But she looked adorably furious. He’d expected her to turn away at his nudity, perhaps cover her eyes, but she’d unabashedly stared at him with interest.
And his traitorous loins had responded with a salute.
Now she was moving toward him, and he wondered how close she would dare to come.
“You think I ‘battled’ Sir Simon?” he asked.
“You talked your way into accompanying us, and then you had the gall to challenge him?”
He sat up a little straighter in the tub. The water sloshed dangerously, and he was satisfied to see her momentarily taken aback. Did she worry he’d stand up to confront her?
“I did not challenge him,” he said lazily.
“Then why did you end up sparring with him? And did you harm him?”
“I am glad you knew that I would be the one in position to do harm.”
She rolled her eyes. “You were raised in London, and have been chosen by the king for your talents.”
Chosen by men the king trusted, he thought.
“So tell me what your purpose was!”
“I had no purpose at all. He asked if I would spar with him, and I agreed.” He rubbed a small cloth in the soft soap and began to slowly wash his chest. To his satisfaction, her gaze dropped to his hands, before returning to his face. And then she looked down again.
He smiled.
She scowled.
“Of course,” he continued, using the soapy cloth down his stomach, “I had just informed him that I would be accompanying the both of you on your little walk.”
She groaned and briefly closed her eyes. “You simply could not resist.”
“Nay, I could not,” he answered, trying to appear abashed. “He did mention his belief that you were only taking pity on me. Are you, Sarah?” He grinned.
“You were the one who wanted my help, Robert. I have been giving you the opportunity to pretend flirtation toward me before all of Drayton Hall. You were the one who forced me to allow you to accompany me—”
“Forced?”
“Aye, forced!”
She advanced another step, and he realized how rewarding it was to provoke her. “You could have refused,” he pointed out, smiling.
“Refused?”
Something in her expression changed, intriguing him. What had she meant to say before thinking better of it?
“I am too polite,” she said, lifting her chin smugly.
“So ’tis politeness you feel when we kiss?” he asked, letting the timbre of his voice drop. He shouldn’t pursue this, he should tell her to leave—
Her eyes widened, and that smugness fled. “You know how you make me feel,” she whispered, suddenly serious. “You think you have me flustered with this—this masculine display. But I was a married woman, not a virgin you can so easily tease.”
Now she was challenging him? How unexpected from a woman he considered so in command of her emotions. She was staring into his face, but she was close enough now that if she looked down, she would see more—although he wasn’t certain how much, considering the soapy haze in the water.
“I do not think of you as a virgin,” he answered, reluctantly amused.
She was circling the tub now, her gaze inscrutable. “You obviously don’t think of me as an innocent, with the way you last kissed me.”
“Compared to the way you kissed me the first time?”
Her cheeks almost reddened enough to match her hair.
He tilted his head back, letting his eyes drift down her body, enjoying himself, though he knew this was too dangerous. To his surprise, she moved behind him and he tensed, wondering if she would touch him, and what he would do in return. His arousal became an ache that was difficult to deny.
God, how she affected him. He wanted to pull her into the tub with him, to let her wet hair fall all about him, to pluck each wet garment from her skin and see what was hidden beneath.
He didn’t turn his head, reveling in the excitement of the unknown and the forbidden.
She whispered behind him, “You mustn’t forget to wash your hair.”
And then she dumped a bucket of steaming water over his head. He half came out of the tub in surprise, and she gave a squeak as she fled the chamber.
He sank back in the tub and laughed helplessly.
Sarah rode her horse between her two suitors and told herself she would enjoy the day. The sky had grown cloudy, and a faint breeze now stirred, but it was lovely to leave the castle and some of her cares behind. For a moment, she felt a stirring of guilt, but she squashed it.
They followed the road toward the village, speaking little. The silence should be pleasant, but she was finding it increasingly difficult not to look at Robert and remember him nude in the bathing tub. She hadn’t been able to see much beneath the water, but she was dismayed by how much she’d wished otherwise. She felt embarrassed and overheated even as she thought he’d been aroused. It had taken so little—she hadn’t touched him or bared her own flesh.
“This way, Sarah,” Simon said, pointing down a path that took them into the woodland.
“Ah, a man who knows where he’s going,” Robert said cheerfully.
“A woman expects such treatment,” the other man responded.
Strangely, their verbal sparring began to cheer her.
The path narrowed, forcing Simon to take the lead and Robert to ride behind her, limiting further discussion until they reached a clearing, where the trees thinned and running water could be heard. Simon stopped, and she was able to ride up next to him. She sighed her delight. Light speckled the glade through the treetops; a stream rushed in a small waterfall down an embankment, tumbling over rocks, and then threading its way through a patch of blue forget-me-nots.
“How lovely,” she cried, smiling up at Simon, reaching to gently touch his arm.
His answering smile had begun slowly, but now he looked down at her hand and brightened.
“Indeed,” Robert called as he came up beside them. “What a romantic you are, Sir Simon.”
Simon glanced at him impassively, then proceeded to dismount. He was just a bit quicker than Robert in reaching to help her down, and she rewarded him with a pleased smile. They each reached to take her horse. Robert gestured for Simon to do the honor. While both men saw to the horses’ comfort, she walked toward the stream and sat on a boulder, listening to the twittering of the birds and the buzzing of insects.
She inhaled the faint scent of the forget-me-nots and the cool moistness of the water and tried to relax. But she couldn’t. The darkness of suspicion hovered over her, and all she had between it and her was her hope that she could convince Robert of her innocence.
The men came toward her at last, and she turned to face them. They were both good-looking men, and any woman would be thrilled to have them with her. They eyed each other competitively as they approached.
She leaned back on her hands to look up at them. “Should I be worried that you two chose today to spar with each other on the tiltyard?”
“I like to test myself as often as possible,” Robert said. “Sir Simon presented a good challenge.”
Simon harrumphed. “He is being far too modest. His skills are superior to mine.” His voice said he was not offended in the least—where military training was concerned.
Robert glanced at him ruefully. “I hope I did not make you regret sparring me.”
“Of course not. You never make anyone think ill of you in any way, Sir Robert,” Simon said, openly facing his rival. “’Tis a natural ability that must aid you well on such assignments. Yet it can be…annoying.”
Robert laughed. “Good of you to admit it.”
&n
bsp; Simon continued to study him. “You do not seem to let the tension of your investigation bother you.”
“I cannot afford such a weakness,” he said, propping his booted foot on a boulder near Sarah. “The success of my mission depends on my ability to be objective. If I let everything bother me, I would not prove useful to the king.”
For a moment, she thought she sensed a tension within Robert’s words, belying his easy demeanor.
“And how is your mission progressing?” Simon boldly asked.
Robert grinned. “’Tis progressing as well as can be expected.”
“Are you close to knowing the identity of the murderer?”
She waited tensely.
“Closer than when we arrived,” Robert said, giving a faint shrug.
Simon shook his head. “That is not much of an answer.”
“I cannot discuss it, of course.”
“Simon realizes how difficult it is to live like this,” Sarah said.
Both men looked at her.
She spread her hands wide. “We all go about our business knowing that at any moment, we could be talking to a murderer, a person who cruelly took a man’s life, who made a boy an orphan. ’Tis…disconcerting.”
“Wouldn’t you rather discuss something else?” Robert asked. “I, too, looked forward to this afternoon as a means of escape.”
“So you’re not evaluating either of us?” Simon asked.
He chuckled. “I’ve long since evaluated both of you.”
“Should we be offended, Simon?” Sarah asked in a dry tone.
“Nay, because all are suspect,” Simon responded.
“But perhaps I want to be simply evaluated as a woman.” She held her breath, shocked by the words that had tumbled unthinkingly from her lips. But she needed Robert’s attention on her.
Robert’s smile slowly widened into a wicked grin. Simon’s eyebrows rose.
“How terrible of us to ignore you,” Robert said, coming to sit beside her on the boulder.
She was forced to inch sideways, yet she could still feel his hip pressed along hers.
