“Our Deliverance,” echoed a low voice behind her.
Deliverance turned and smiled at Luke Collyer.
Chapter 11
After the first abortive attack, Farrington retired his troops to a safe distance and resumed digging in. Like giant moles, great mounds of earth began to appear just out of musket range. Luke fired a few cannonade shots at the new trenches which provoked some return of fire from Farrington's smaller guns. The Thunderer brooded in her own trench behind a sturdy wicket palisade.
The fourth day of the siege dawned as a glorious late summer day, where the world beyond the affairs of Kinton Lacey Castle, glowed with sunshine. When Luke did not appear for the midday meal, Deliverance wrapped bread and cheese in a cloth. She packed the meal together with a small flask of wine, a beaker and a couple of apples, into a basket, and went in search of him.
The soldiers pointed to the Hawk Tower where Luke had placed one of his small cannons. She sighed. He would choose the tallest tower with the steepest and narrowest stairs. Gathering her skirts in one hand, and balancing the awkward basket in the other, she made the arduous climb, emerging into bright sunshine on the rooftop.
She blinked for a moment, not so much at the sudden glare of sunshine but at the sight of Luke, stripped to the waist, his body glistening with perspiration from the exertion of cleaning the gun.
He hadn't heard her approach and it allowed her a moment to stop and admire the hard, muscled planes of his chest, peppered with dark hair. Her heart beat a little faster and her breath came in shallow gasps. She tightened her fingers on the basket as she wondered what it would be like to touch him, slide her hands across the taut, golden skin...
She swallowed and stepped back into the doorway, where she stopped to catch her breath and wonder at these wayward thoughts. He had made their relative positions perfectly clear the last time… that night when she had almost kissed him. Dear Lord, she was turning into some sort of hoyden. This would never do.
I am Deliverance Felton. He is a common soldier. We have four hundred angry men sitting outside our door. This is not the time or the place.
Repeating this to herself, she retraced her steps part of the way down the stairs. She took a deep breath and humming a familiar soldier's song, she re-emerged. This time he had heard her and was engaged in the act of hurriedly resuming his shirt as she stepped through the doorway. He didn't bother tying the neck or wrist laces, or tucking it in.
“Deliverance. What brings you up here?”
“I've brought some food. You didn't come down for dinner.” She set down the basket on the firing step beside the rampart and sat down. “Isn't that a task for your gunners?”
He looked at the gun. “I like to do it myself occasionally. Guns are sensitive beasts and liable to misfire or worse. I don't need to injure my own men.”
He plunged his hands into a bucket of water and wiped them on a cloth. Deliverance spread the cloth and laid out the simple repast.
“You're not eating?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I ate with the others.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he took a bite of the slab of bread. “Sorry, I forgot the time. Thank you for thinking of me,” he mumbled with his mouth full of bread.
She shrugged and leaned back on her elbows looking up at the sky. “On a day like today, it's almost possible to believe this is all a dream.”
“Except that four hundred men on the other side of the wall are hardly quiet,” Luke observed.
“True.” Deliverance listened to the sound of men shouting, spades in dirt and the general hum of humanity both within and beyond the castle walls. Someone in the royalist camp was singing. He had a fine baritone and the words carried up to the top of the tower.
‘When cannons are roaring,
And bullets are flying,
He that would honour win,
Must not fear dying…’
Deliverance shivered.
“That’s an old song,” Luke said. “I heard it sung in Germany.”
He started to sing, in a good tenor.
‘Sentinels on the walls,
Arm, arm a-crying.
Petards against the ports,
Wild fire a-flying…’
He trailed off and took a bite from one of the apples.
“You have a good voice,” Deliverance said. She cocked her head and looked at him. “Luke, if your family supports the King, what is your reason for fighting for Parliament’s cause?”
“I probably did it just to annoy my father,” he said.
Deliverance studied him, seeing the fleeting expression of regret that flashed into his eyes.
“No,” she said. “You did it because you believed in a cause.”
He didn't answer for a moment, munching thoughtfully on the apple. “Not much escapes your eagle eye does it, Mistress Felton? I returned to England in early ’42 to a country ruled over by a King who would not listen to the voice of the people. A silly, stubborn little man. I could not in all conscience give him my sword.”
“Why did you leave England in the first place?”
He leaned over and tapped her on the nose. “Too many questions, Deliverance. My personal business is none of yours.” When she continued to fix him with her gaze, he sighed. “If you must know, my father banished me.”
“Why?”
His mouth twitched. “It began as a stupid argument with my brother over a woman, nothing more.”
Deliverance’s stomach lurched. A woman, of course. It had to be a woman. She looked up at him and her heart started to race again.
“Is there still…a woman?” she asked in a small tight voice.
He shook his head and smiled. “No.”
Her heart beat a little faster. Please kiss me.
As if he had heard her silent plea, he set his apple down and reaching up, he stroked her cheek, his touch searing her skin like a brand.
“I don’t think any woman I have ever met is your equal,” he said, his tone soft and uncertain and quite unlike the Luke Collyer she thought she knew.
With shaking fingers she responded, brushing his face, feeling the rough stubble of his cheek, his skin warm to her touch. Her fingers moved to his lips and in a swift movement he caught her wrist. For a moment she thought he would cast it down but he held her fingers against his mouth, gently kissing the tip of each in turn.
He released her hand and Deliverance slid her hand behind his neck, meshing his thick, dark hair as she drew his face down towards hers. Their lips met with a sudden bruising intensity, caused by her eagerness and inexperience. He pulled back a little, his eyes widening before he took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers, gentle but firm, and infinitely more experienced.
Deliverance went limp, her lips parting beneath his. A burning longing ignited deep in her being for this man to hold her like this forever. Her breasts began to tingle as if they strained against her bodice, willing him to touch them.
His long, hard, body pressed against her and the realisation that he desired to possess her both terrified and exhilarated her. Despite her genteel upbringing, she was not entirely ignorant of what could follow. There had been a particularly embarrassing incident when she had walked in to the stable and tripped over one of the stable boys and a girl from the dairy. She had thought it quite amusing--her father had other ideas.
Was this what that girl had felt for the stable boy? Was this what it felt like to want a man so badly that all caution and sense blew to the wind?
Here they were on the top of a tall tower with hundreds of people within yards of them and yet it was as if they were the only two people in the whole world. They could be discovered any minute and that heady thought made this unplanned tryst even more exciting.
“Captain Collyer? Are you there?” A voice came from deep within the stairwell.
Luke jumped to his feet, with the speed and grace of a cat, hastily tucking his shirt into his breeches. Deliverance sat up, readjusted h
er clothing and began making a show of packing away the remnants of Luke's lunch, as she fought to return her breathing to normal.
The soldier who came out on to the tower didn't seem to notice anything amiss.
“I've given the gun a good clean, Smith,” Luke said and Deliverance cast him a quick glance, hearing the check in his voice. He coughed. “Thank you for the food, Mistress Felton. Now if you'll excuse us, I need to discuss the disposition of the gun with Smith, here.”
Deliverance rose to her feet, hoping the flush in her cheeks did not betray her. She waited till the rest of the gun crew had come huffing up the stairs and clutching her basket to her chest, she stepped into the cool, dark of the stairwell.
She leaned against the wall while her eyes adjusted to the gloom and wondered if her breathing would ever return to normal. With trembling fingers she touched her lips that burned and tingled from the intensity of their desire for each other.
Glancing back at the tower she could see Luke, the soldier, deep in conversation with his gunners.
Luke the soldier...Luke...the lover?
Her knees threatened to buckle under the weight of the emotions that flowed through her, and she put her hand out to the wall to steady herself. She had never thought much about love, let alone the physical expression of love between a man and a woman. Beyond what she had seen in the stable, her notions of what it entailed were vague at the very best and the thought of this man teaching her, made her head spin.
She reached the ground and stepped out into the bustling courtyard, instinctively ducking as a musket ball spun unheeded past her shoulder. The danger of her position, the threat to the castle...all of these matters receded into insignificance.
Is this love? she thought. Or am I just indulging in some foolish fantasy brought on by the situation I find myself in?
She had no answer to her own question and, taking a steadying breath, she crossed back to the residence, determined to find something to keep herself busy that afternoon—until the next time she and Luke were alone together.
As Luke gained the dark recess of the stairwell, he took a deep breath. He had no idea how he had managed to conduct a lucid conversation with the gunners when his body and mind was absorbed with Deliverance Felton. The betraying ache in his groin had not subsided, and he sat down on one of the narrow window ledges that lined the stairwell. Even on such a bright day, the light barely penetrated the narrow embrasure.
He groaned aloud and leaned his head on his hands. What had he been thinking? Deliverance Felton? If it was just about sex, why couldn't he just slake his lust with any of the other women still within the castle confines?
He took a deep breath and looked up. He didn't want any of the other women. He wanted Deliverance. He remembered the taste of her mouth, her impatience and her response to his touch and smiled, shaking his head in disbelief at his own foolishness. A virgin. Oh dear Lord, of course she had to be a virgin. Her inexperienced touch and her eagerness had betrayed her innocence. He touched his lip where her teeth had accidentally cut him and shook his head.
Why not Deliverance Felton? He thought. He had never contemplated a permanent liaison with any woman, why should Deliverance be any different? And yet she was different, she was his equal in everything—his soul mate?
He rose to his feet, straightening his jacket and tying the strings on his shirt collar. He was her equal in status. Even if she only thought of him as a soldier of fortune, he would have to confide in her at some point. Her father could not possibly disapprove if he knew that Luke was Lord Harcourt's son.
As he took the stairs down the tower he considered the mechanics of conducting a relationship in such a crowded castle. They would have to be careful. He would have to be careful. The garrison must not know that they had formed an attachment but it could be done. It would be done. They could both be dead tomorrow. Why not? Today was for the living.
“You're mad,” he said aloud and stepped out of the tower stairwell into the bustling courtyard.
Chapter 12
Have you and Captain Collyer argued again?” Penitence enquired.
Deliverance nearly dropped the bowl she was holding, feeling the colour rise to her cheeks. “Why would you say that?”
“You seem to be avoiding each other. I can't help but notice when he comes into a room, you leave and I haven't seen you talking to each other for days now.”
Deliverance made pretence of carefully measuring out the beans for the days ration. What Penitence had not seen were the careless meetings in dark corridors, when Luke would seize her by the waist, pressing her back into the wall as he kissed her. Neither had Penitence noticed the way their feet touched at the dining table or their hands brushed as they passed each other. The thrill of these illicit encounters made her forget, just for those few fleeting moments, the danger to the castle.
“No,” she said. “We haven't argued. We just have our own tasks. He's busy and I'm busy.”
“That's a relief,” Penitence said. “You were getting on so well.”
Deliverance opened her mouth. Her heart burst with the frustration of keeping the relationship clandestine. She yearned to confide in her sister, as Penitence had confided every nuance of her growing relationship with Jack. At the time Deliverance had found the lovelorn longings of her sister quite nauseating. Now she understood.
The women flinched as a loud explosion followed by a juddering bang in another part of the castle rocked the foundations of the residence..
“Lovedie.” Deliverance summoned the maid. “Take over. I'll go and see the damage.”
She found Luke in the centre of the courtyard looking at the west wall.
“I'm not sure the wall is going to stand much more of this,” he said as she drew level with him. “They've found the sweet spot and they'll just keep hammering at it until it gives way. They just have to bring Hawk Tower down and we will be in trouble.”
Deliverance looked up at him. “Is there nothing we can do?”
“I'll have to think about it, but nothing occurs to me at the moment.” He looked down at her, his grey eyes smouldering. The breath left her body and a warm surge of desire rushed through her. They were discussing possible annihilation and all she could think about was the touch of his hands.
“Perhaps if you could spare some time, Mistress Felton, we should inspect our powder supplies,” he said in a husky tone only matched by the glint in the depth of his smoky eyes.
“I think I can spare some time, Captain Collyer,” she responded, hoping no one overhearing them would detect the answering quiver in her voice.
Luke unlocked the door of the chapel and stood aside to let her in. The building smelled of must and gunpowder. The barrels stood neatly stacked against the walls. After the hustle of the world outside and the cramped conditions of the residence, the cool quiet chapel came as a relief. You could, Deliverance thought, almost believe it was still a holy place, not the most dangerous place in the whole castle.
“I think the last time this was used, was for my parents wedding,” she said aloud. “My mother will be turning in her grave to see it so desecrated.”
Luke shrugged. “Needs must. Now shall we start at this end?”
He began counting the barrels. Deliverance blinked. Had she misunderstood him? Did he really intend to check on the powder supplies?
She fought back disappointment. “Will it be enough?”
Luke shrugged. “If the siege ends tomorrow, then yes it will be enough. If the siege lasts until Christmas then we will have surrendered long before then.” He gave a hollow laugh. “Although we will probably have run out of food first and be reduced to eating rats and cats.”
Deliverance looked up at him. The light from the windows, once filled with coloured glass but now, mostly broken and boarded over, cast the lines of strain on his face into sharp relief. Hesitantly she reached up and touched his face, seeing for the first time, the dark shadows under his eyes. He leaned against her hand, his own
hand rising to grasp her fingers, placing them against his lips.
In the gloom, his face caught the light from a sliver of the painted glass window, showering it with coloured flecks as he drew her toward him, his other hand slipping around her waist.
“I thought this might be one place we could be alone and undisturbed for a little.” His voice held an unfamiliar husky tone.
She laughed, suddenly nervous. This moment had occupied her thoughts for days and all she could say was, “A strange place for a lover's tryst, Captain Collyer.”
“I'm sure there may have been stranger but none I can think of.” He tilted her face up to look at him. “You have a smudge of dirt on your cheek, Deliverance. No, don't rub it off, it looks rather endearing.”
“This pretence is killing me,” she murmured leaning her head against his chest as he gathered her into his arms.
Even beneath the thickness of his wool jacket, his heart beat steadily against her cheek, and she wound her arms around his neck, pulling his face down so their foreheads and their noses touched. She closed her eyes, feeling Luke's lips on hers. His arms tightened around her and they sank to the dusty floor, locked together.
Deliverance shut her eyes, surrendering to her other senses. The cold, hard flagstones beneath her, the warm smell of man, the rasp of his stubbled cheek against her, the sweet salty taste of his mouth on her lips and the sound of their own desire, mingled in the strange silence of a room filled with gunpowder.
She meshed her fingers in his hair, gasping as his hand cupped her breast. Even through her bodice, her nipples responded, aching for his touch. She began tugging at the laces of her bodice, loosening them enough to allow his questing fingers to find the sensitive nubs. She thought she would scream as a shudder of longing ran through her body. She wanted him to touch her there...and there...
She arched her back, her hips grinding into his. “Luke,” she cried out, remembering at the last minute to lower her voice.
Luke paused and his body stiffened. Deliverance moaned with frustration. He laid a finger against her mouth and she opened her eyes.
Her Rebel Heart: A romance of the English Civil War Page 12
