Crimson Secret

by Janet Lane

  She smiled. “No, although I enjoyed that one. Didn’t you?”

  He raised a brow. “Oh, yes. You’re quite the jester.”

  She laughed, feeling tickles in her stomach. It was only the second light-hearted moment of amusement she’d shared with him. “Let’s have a race. I learned it from my brother, Stephen. Here are yours. They’re ships.” She handed him three. “And here’s mine.” She plucked the dried stem and petals from them and placed them on top of the water. “See how they float. And see that big rock, about twenty feet out” she said, pointing to it. “That’s where we finish. Whoever gets there first with all three ships, wins.”

  “Wins what?”

  “A kiss.” Her heart faltered as the words passed her lips.

  His voice deepened more. “That’s a very dangerous prize, Mistress Joya.”

  She gave him a smile that barely contained the desire that was humming through her body. “Only if you win.”

  “And if you win?”

  She struggled for a breath. “Then it will be very dangerous for you, Lord Penry.” She laughed, got on all fours in the shallow water, and started blowing her pod-ship toward the rock.

  “No hurry,” Luke purred, his deep voice smooth, vibrating into her core. “I’ll give you a head start.”

  He launched his own pod ships. They were light and unsteady in the water. They could not be rushed. Experienced with the game, Joya steered her ships better and gained an early advantage.

  She grew light headed from all the puffing, but she was determined to win. They eventually entered water deep enough that they could no longer rest their hands on the bottom, but had to balance and blow the ships.

  “Watch out, Joya. I’m going to win.”

  She heard a splash and turned.

  Luke had employed another means of propelling them. He placed the heels of his hand in the water and pushed, creating two waves. His ships zoomed forward on the small waves he’d created.

  “No fair. You can only blow your ship home,” Joya said.

  Luke laughed, a rich, deep sound. Water dripped from his freshly shaved jaw. His face was transformed. No longer the tight-lipped judge, his eyes were laughing now, his broad smile revealing mischief and straight white teeth. Could this be the same man who had brow beat her, the same man who often looked as though he had lost his last friend?

  “Too late to change the rules now,” he said, and returned to his wave-making.

  Joya blew harder, a mistake that made the little pod boats tip over. She righted them.

  “Ah, no fair touching them,” Luke teased.

  She had been so distracted when she told him about the game, she had forgotten to establish all the rules.

  Luke’s boats were leading hers by at least six feet.

  Joya tried to mimic Luke and create waves, but the ships kept falling over.

  The last of Luke’s three ships sailed to the rock, and it was over.

  “Yes!” Luke raised his arms in victory. “And now for my prize.” He lunged toward her.

  Joya cried out and abandoned her ships. She turned to escape, but the water was chest high and difficult to wade through. Thrills shot through her stomach as he pursued her, both of them splashing wildly.

  Her legs slogged through the water, slow as a snail, while her heart pumped faster and faster.

  He caught up with her before she’d run two yards. He tackled her. They fell and sank together to the bottom.

  Joya surrendered to the water.

  Luke lifted her out and she squealed.

  He laughed, an undeniably masculine blend of power and delight. It rumbled from deep in his throat as he turned her to face him.

  He towered over her, brown hair shining in the sun, lake water dripping, tiny beads of moisture on lashes over blue, blue eyes.

  She looked up at him, expectant, heart beating wildly.

  He cradled her face in his big hands and lowered his face to hers.

  His mouth was wet and soft on hers. Her legs went weak and she sank into the water.

  His hands went to her waist and he lifted her high, let her slide down the length of him. She slid over his chest, his trim waist, and the considerable hardness of his desire as he cupped her bottom close to him.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, moving against him.

  He groaned and claimed her again with a kiss, his tongue impatient, invading.

  His heat penetrated her thin chemise.

  Sliding upward, his hands skimmed her hips, her waist, and cupped her breasts. He ended the kiss and gazed at her from his wet lashes. “You are the most beautiful woman,” he said. “I lose all thoughts but those of you.”

  He sucked her lower lip and kissed her again.

  Sin, sin. She returned the kiss, threading her fingers through his hair, caressing his scalp. And should I sin too much, I shall surely go to heaven.

  She touched him under the water, his shaft hard under the thin fabric of his chausses.

  He tried to pull away. “I cannot deflower you.”

  “You won’t,” Joya said. “We were only days from our wedding when Giles went to battle. We said our vows secretly. And consummated them.”

  He caught her meaning, and inhaled sharply. “Forsooth?”

  She nodded.

  “I can make no promises. No vows.”

  “I know.” She pulled him to her, kissing him deeply.

  He grabbed her bottom and rubbed her against him. “By the saints. By the glorious, sweet saints I have dreamed of this.” He kissed his way down the side of her neck, trailing more kisses on the tops of her arms. He moved to her breasts and suckled them.

  She gasped at the pleasure.

  He pulled her chemise up to her waist and his fingers traveled between her legs. Touching, stroking. His thumb stroked her, applying pressure, sliding into her.

  She was on fire in the cool water, feeling his hot fingers inside her. She opened her legs, inviting more. Clinging to him.

  He pushed against her, sliding himself into her folds, and drove into her, hot and slick.

  Gasping with pleasure, she wrapped her legs around his waist. This was the man who had taken her breath from the moment she first saw him, the man who had invaded her dreams, made a small bridge for her, insulted her, and saved her. He had surprised her, disappointed her, and excited her more than any man she had ever known.

  Joya threw her head back. Luke fondled her breasts, kneading her nipples until she cried out for more. Water swirled between them, and she pulled him to her, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, moaning as he stroked inside her.

  Her core, hot and fluid as the water around them, and pressure. Passion she had never known drove her to new heights, and a pulsing urgency that made her at once aroused and desperate. She clung to him, needing more of him, more, more, and she moved against him faster, seeking something unknown but so intense she could not breathe.

  He felt it, too, and answered her thrusts.

  Water churning, she shuddered from the delicious tremors that overcame her.

  Chapter 12

  Her head rested on his shoulder, and he twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.

  They had hung their clothes on tree branches to dry. Luke had checked on the horses and returned with a travel blanket, which he spread on a sunny patch of grass near spring flowers. “This is pleasant. Here.” He caressed the length of her arm. “With you.” His deep voice sounded like music in the quiet.

  Pleasant, he said. Like a good game of chess. She smiled to herself. He was so reserved with his emotions. After what they had shared, his word was bland, but the look in his eyes said so much more.

  “Would that we could stay here forever,” she said. An occasional bird sang, a squirrel scolded, and a breeze made the trees whisper, but she could not take her eyes from his face. He met her gaze with a tenderness she had not seen before. His relaxed features softened the angles of his face, and his smile was fluid, almost lazy. This was a Luke
she had never known before, a sensual, sated man, comfortable in her arms.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  “How much I like to win.” His smile widened. “Can we race again?”

  “Only after I explain all the rules.” Her fingers skipped over his flat stomach.

  He laughed, catching her hand, and knowing he was ticklish made her laugh, too.

  “Losing has its advantages,” she said. “But I look forward to winning.”

  She told him about the games she, Stephen and Faith had played as children. They had made home-made slides from winnowing baskets saturated with duck grease. They rode them, sliding faster than the wind down the grassy hill by the church. They would practice with the bow and arrow targets for entire days, or spend lazy summer days catching caterpillars, and her parents would decide who had the best collection.

  “I like seeing that playful side of you,” he said. “I love that part of you. Most of times you seem so delicate, so serious in all your finery. I was surprised.” He traced the curve of her ear. “Your gowns—they’re more beautiful than those at the king’s court.”

  His words echoed in her head. Did he just say there was something about her that he loved? She basked in the warmth of his compliment.

  “Thank you. My mother sews all my gowns. Her fingers are so nimble, she can sew silk over rosary beads so that you never see a single seam. ‘Tis my good fortune. My garderobe is filled with her designs.”

  “So you dress to please your mother.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “We both enjoy shopping for the fabrics, a special time only for the two of us.” Thoughts of her mother shone like sunshine in Joya’s heart. “I’m proud of her. ‘Tis dear to me to wear her gowns. My father and brother are also pleased with her talent. They wear the finest doublets, with a perfect fit, in spite of their height.” She nuzzled into his shoulder. “Pray tell me about your father. Did he have your blue eyes?”

  “Aye.”

  His silence told her she’d reached the end of that very short road. “Did you play games with your brothers?”

  “My brothers and I would hold races, too,” Luke said. “We’d use frogs, crickets, snakes—anything that moved,” he said. “Humfrye loved to fish. He could turn every nibble into a bite, and he always knew where the big fish were.” He smiled. “And Christopher, he could throw rocks like a cannon. His arm was so strong. He used to win all the games at festivals. No one could come close to him. We used to race with barrels in the bailey…” His smile died, and that hooded, protected look came into his eyes, shutting her out.

  “You used to race barrels,” she said, prompting him to return to his story.

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I can’t believe they’re gone.” He looked toward the lake. “We had our differences, as you saw that morning in Coin Forest, but they were my brothers. My father had five sons, and now he’s gone, and only Hugh and I are left.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She died when I was seven.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Joya said, dismayed that their talk had lead to pain and loss. “Hold me.” She wrapped the blanket around both of them, snuggling next to him, in contact from head to toes. “Hold me and know that I care for you. When it comes to you, I’m shameless. I can’t stay away from you.”

  “’Tis my good fortune, I assure you,” he said, tracing a finger across her lips.

  She kissed him, soft at first, and deeper as she sensed his awakening passion.

  “Joya.” His voice thick, he turned her away from him and pulled her close, her back nestled against his chest. Stroking the side of her breast as light as a whisper, he kissed the side of her neck. His hands traveled to her waist, and he kissed his way down her back.

  Fresh desire licked its way to her core, and she pressed closer to him.

  His chest warmed her, heating her blood.

  Her skin tingled as he trailed his hand over the swell of her hip. He cupped her bottom, stroking the sensitive skin until she squirmed. He slid his hand between her legs to tantalize her further.

  She turned to face him. The fire in his eyes melted her, and his firm lips covered hers, sliding wet and warm against hers so she could feel nothing but the sun and the pulsing desire between them.

  His musky scent held a trace of lake water and grass, and his hair, thick between her fingers, was still damp.

  He would be gone on the morrow, and he saw no future for them, but her heart melted from the intensity in his blue eyes, and she opened to him.

  He loved her then, slowly, tenderly. They joined, becoming one, and a renewed passion raced through her veins. His rhythm quickened and slowed, a sensual dance inside her, lifting her higher, higher. The ground under her seemed to spin, and she held him closer. He moaned and clutched her bottom, driving deeper. The turbulence of his passion overwhelmed her, and she gasped for relief. Finally she abandoned herself and cried out as shivers of delight pulsed through her.

  Joya awoke to his kiss.

  She snuggled into his shoulder, refusing to open her eyes. She had slept in his arms. She wanted to return to sleep, to this special dream.

  He laughed softly. “Wake up, little butterfly. Come back to me.”

  ‘Twas no dream. It was better than she had dreamed. She opened her eyes and pulled his face down for a kiss.

  “This day is special to me. I will never forget it. Never forget you.”

  She put two fingers on his lips. “Shh. Let us speak naught of the future.”

  “I must tell you this, though. I enjoy being with you. When I see you, my day is brighter. Always.”

  Warmth poured from his words to her heart. “And I, you.” Behind him, the sun had slipped below the tops of the trees. She tried to swallow the knot in her throat as they approached the time of their parting. “When I’m not with you, I think about you. I worry for you.”

  “What you did for me at the bridge, that was brave. I told you at the time that it was a stupid thing to do, but I said that because I was angry. Angry at the danger in which you placed yourself and your friends, only to help me. It was too dear a sacrifice.”

  “You saved me in the river.”

  He kissed her again. “I thank you for helping me, and I’m glad you have sanctuary. I can’t stay long, though. I must…leave.”

  “I know, defeat Margaret. I can’t believe she killed your brothers,” Joya said. “There has to be some explanation.”

  “You heard my brother. Think you he lied?”

  “No. No. Only that it doesn’t make sense.”

  His muscles tensed against her.

  “I’m sorry, Luke. The truth will come out.”

  “I’m sorry for you when it does. Your faith will be crushed.” He softened his voice. “I will leave on the morrow. I will never forget you, Joya.”

  “You will come back,” she said.

  He traced her mouth with his finger. “My days are few. I have nothing to offer you. I like working alone. Living alone.” He turned away. “You would wither and be unhappy with me.”

  She turned him to face her. “But today. Here. What we’ve shared—”

  He kissed her hand. “This day. You. It will remain always here.” He took her hand and placed it over his heart, and she could feel its strong beating.

  His eyes were soft with sorrow.

  Her throat constricted, and she had to break from his gaze to avoid tears. Composed, she met his gaze again.

  “I must go. I am good as dead. I cannot claim you, but I promise, I will help defeat Margaret, and you will all be released and exonerated.” He placed his hand on her heart. “And I vow, I will help save England for you.”

  * * *

  Joya rose before the sun and struggled with the lacings of Kadriya’s gown. Her body still hummed from the passion she and Luke had shared at the lake the day before. Today would be difficult. She would ride with Luke and her friends to the abbey. She shivered. Months may pass before she coul
d escape its walls.

  “Here, let me help,” Pru said. Facing an uncertain future at the abbey, they all had suffered a restless night. Cam had sneaked into George’s chamber some time past midnight, and Pru and Joya had fallen asleep in the midst of worries that the abbot may be as joyless as Father Jeffrye.

  Pru worked fast, the laces shushing through the eyelets. Securing the neckline, she sucked in a breath and her fingers stilled.

  “What is it?”

  Pru didn’t respond.

  “Well? What is it?” Joya repeated.

  “I—did you take your necklace off?”

  Joya’s hand flew to her neck. “No.” She felt for it on the back of her neck, but it wasn’t there.

  Gile’s betrothal ring. She had worn it ever since he had given it to her, months ago.

  She met Pru’s gaze. “The lake.” She and Pru had talked into the small hours of the night, and Joya had told her of the boat race, and hinted at the pleasures she and Luke had shared. She shook her gown, but no chain, no ring fell out. “Sweet heaven, I must have lost it in the lake.”

  She dropped to her hands and knees, checking the floor. “It’s gone.” She thought back, re-tracing her steps. “We were splashing so much. It might have been when I took the gown off. I was in a hurry …” Her face heated as recognition lit Pru’s eyes.

  She hurried on. “It could have been worn thin at the hook and broken there, or during our ride back home.”

  “We can go back to the lake when we ride to the abbey,” Joya said. “I can find it.”

  Pru touched Joya’s shoulder. “It’s gone, but you will always have the memories.”

  “But it’s to honor Giles, his sacrifice, I—”

  “He would want you to be happy. How do you feel about it now, as we speak?”

  Joya tried to put words to the fresh sense of loss, the scarred wounds suddenly fresh and painful. “Wretched.”

  “And how did you feel yesterday, at the lake?”

  “I can’t talk about that now, knowing I lost Giles’ ring.”

  “Yes, you can. How was it at the lake, with Luke?”