Chapter Twenty-Two
Elysian Fields
Emily plucked another cornflower and added it to the colorful bunch of wildflowers in her hand. Her mind immediately returned to the day she and Electra decided to pick wildflowers and wound up a world away. How was Electra faring? Had Roger reached her yet? How were her parents holding up? She’d love to explain to Simon his dear friend, Stephen, was alive and well. But how?
Simon.
What to do about Simon?
The horrible way the whores at the village tavern treated Simon preyed on Emily’s mind. She hadn’t decided what exactly to do about it. She knew him well enough now to know he wouldn’t be amenable to her talking to him and offering upbeat platitudes. Not about his injury anyway. If the only women who’d seen it told him how repulsed they were, then that’s what he’d been convinced of. Besides, she wasn’t sure how to begin a conversation of that nature either.
After considering and discarding a number of ideas, she kept coming back to the one. Seduce him. She found him devilishly attractive in his Old World, Lion in Winter way, and he’d shown he found her attractive as well.
Then there was the question of: would he let himself be seduced? The fact she had the question was laughable and a first for her. Ninety-nine out of one hundred men would gladly give her free reign over their bodies. Simon was the one exception who might refuse not wanting to sully her reputation.
She bent over a patch of bluebells having an imaginary conversation with Simon over her reputation.
“Your wildflowers have a short lifespan. You’ll need to put them in water as soon as you return to the castle.”
She jerked upright. Engrossed in her fantasy chitchat, she hadn’t heard Simon approach. The heat of a blush warmed her face. “Hi. You startled me.”
“I’ve been told I have a quiet step.” He set a knapsack and wine bag on the ground. He came to where she stood and took the flowers from her. “I’ll hold these while you pick.”
He wore a simple shirt tucked into his chausses instead of the tunic and partial mail he normally wore during the day. “You’re looking very casual. Where is your mail?”
“I’m not working with the men today. I granted them a free day to tend to their personal business or pleasure, as am I.”
“How did you know where to find me?” Please say you sought me out and this isn’t a coincidence.
“It’s a lovely warm day. Not a cloud in the sky. I have nothing better to do so I thought we might share a repast again.” He pointed to the knapsack and bag. “I’ve some bread and cheese and wine. I surmised you’d be either at the river, running amok in the water with no thought to exposing your flesh—” he chuckled amused with himself, “or, you’d be nearby strolling the woods enjoying the weather.”
“You’d nothing better to do so you sought me out. I’ve never been so flattered. What a twit.”
“When you say it like that, it makes me sound a bit of dolt. I sought you out. Is that not flattering?”
His lack of suavity presented Emily with the opening she needed to use her charm on him. Hopefully, she’d prove more adept at it than he. “In spite of your inability to smooth talk me—” His brows dipped into a deep single line above his nose at her reference. She assumed he didn’t know what to make of the modern expression. “Your utter kissability makes up for the loss.”
The frown disappeared behind a huge grin and his eyes lit up with delight. She’d once described him as a bear of a man and he generally was—but not today. “Kissability indeed. You jest.”
She stopped his denial with a kiss. He didn’t react at first and she worried she overstepped and he thought her too aggressive. Just as she started to pull back, he dropped her flowers and brought his hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer. He deepened the kiss, stealing the air from her lungs as he expertly ravaged her mouth. There was a need in it, a hunger for the intimacy of a simple kiss. He let his crutch fall to the ground and took her face in both his hands, kissing her from every angle.
She slid her hands up his wide back to clutch his shoulders. He moaned low and his hips pressed harder against her.
When they were both breathless and desperate for air, he broke the kiss. He lowered his hands to her waist. She took her time letting hers travel the length of his spine to rest on his lower back.
“Does this mean you’ll join me for a picnic?” he whispered against her temple, his breath teasing the tiny hairs there, his thumbs grazing her ribcage.
“It means more than that.”
He raised his head. “I’m not sure I take your meaning.”
“Come with me.”
He picked up his crutch and wrapped his other arm around her. She led him to where the knapsack was and got down on her knees, then tugged him down onto his.
“Shall we have some wine first?” She reached for the wine bag.
“I have goblets,” he said and retrieved two from the knapsack and held them while she poured. “First you say. What is second?”
The moment of truth. Should she proceed to taunt him sexually until the seduction is his idea? Or, should she fly with telling him she intends to seduce him? That way he knows he doesn’t have to stop on her account.
She decided on the truth. “I plan to seduce you.”
“You cannot.” The cheer left his face.
“Why not? Please don’t say because of my reputation. I’m not worried about it, neither should you. I can face any gossip that might arise.”
He finished his wine in one swallow and got to his feet. “It gives me great pleasure to see you smile and laugh and just be near you. I acted on that pleasure when I shouldn’t have. I took liberties with you that were not my place to take. Forgive me. I will leave you to enjoy your repast.”
She jumped up and blocked his path. If she could get him to admit to his shame over his leg, it would bring the topic in the open. She’d have a place to work on repairing the damage done by the tavern whores. “Why shouldn’t you kiss me and more? You wanted to kiss me and you know I wanted it as well.”
He sidestepped to move around her, but she blocked him again. “Leave me be, Emily.”
“No. Answer me. Why won’t you follow your heart in this matter?”
His brown eyes darkened to almost black. He hurled his crutch. His chest heaved hard and fast for several long seconds. His breathing slowed but not the rage. “Why? That’s why,” he snarled, rocking on his good leg. “Do I want you? Yes. The man I used to be would take your returned affection and be thrilled with the gift. But, I am not that man—not anymore.”
With apprehension, she broached the subject. “This is all over your leg and it shouldn’t be.”
“You don’t understand. You deserve to be loved and cared for by a whole man, not this.” He gestured broadly with his hands. “I couldn’t bear to see the revulsion in your eyes were I to expose you to what I am.”
“You do me a great disservice, Simon. Do you think me so shallow that I would only see your scars, that I can’t see you for all you are?”
He tried to sidestep around her again. Again, she blocked him.
“Simon, when I look at you, I see a man with a hearty laugh, whose whole face lights with it. I see a man other men respect. I see how they listen to you. I hear what they say. There isn’t a man in those barracks who wouldn’t fight to the death for you. I see a kind-hearted man who speaks gentle words to his warhorse. A man who constantly sneaks morsels to the hounds as they roam the hall at mealtime. I see a man whose opinion Richard respects. I see a man who nature made handsome and whose heart and soul made him even more so.”
“I appreciate your kind words but—”
“Shut up.” She grasped his head in her hands and kissed him, prying his lips open with her tongue determined to kiss him as thoroughly as he had her. In spite of his wish to reject her, he kissed her back with passion that hovered on the edge of primal.
He tasted like wine. Self-control she counted on aba
ndoned her. His kiss was a fire in her blood that ignited every part of her.
Her lips still on his, she dropped her hands to his shirt collar and unlaced the ties at the neck. The linen, soft from use, made it easy to untuck. He groaned and made a feeble attempt to stay her hands. She pushed his hands away and when the shirt was undone, she broke the kiss and said, “Raise your hands.” Their eyes locked on each other, he didn’t move at first. She leaned into him and kissed the sensitive skin below his ear and down to his collarbone. “Raise your hands.”
“You mustn’t.”
“Shh.”
He raised his arms and she stepped back just enough to give her the ability to remove the shirt over his head. His broad chest was covered in a thin blanket of dark reddish-brown hair. The muscles rippled with a little shiver as she dragged her fingers down to his waist. The telltale sign brought a smile he didn’t see as she moved to kiss and lick the well at the base of his throat.
“We are in the midst of a meadow. You cannot continue this pursuit, wonderful as I find it.”
“Really Simon, are you suggesting your never got naked with a woman outside of a bedchamber?”
Scarlet instantly colored his face cheeks to brow. Although she couldn’t see under his beard, she was certain the skin there was as red.
“What an improper question. Not one a lady should ask.”
“Ah, well, I’m going to take that deflection as a yes.”
“If such a thing happened, and I’m not saying it did, it was when I was much younger. Much.”
She grinned and began to untie the drawstring on his chausses.
He clasped her hand. “You must stop.”
She brought her hand up and lifted his fingers from her wrist one by one. He watched without resisting and when she’d undone his hold, she brought his hand to her lips, placing a kiss on his palm. She touched her tongue to the calloused center unsure he could feel it through the tough skin.
He drew in a quick breath. Letting go, he whispered, “Please Emily, you must stop.”
She glanced down at the hard-to-miss tenting of his chausses over his manhood straining for release. “You say no, but I see yes.” She rubbed her hand along his erection for emphasis.
His whole chest rose with the intake of breath at her touch. He stayed her hand but didn’t remove it. “You don’t understand. I have scars. Scars your kind eyes should not see.”
“Simon, we have war in my time...my home,” she quickly corrected herself. “Men return with the same terrible wounds as here. I have seen them and I am not worse for having done so. I wish to be with you, scars and all.”
“We might be found.”
“We might,” she agreed and began working on the chausses drawstring.
“I don’t know how such things are looked upon in Greenland but in England, I will be applauded. You, on the other hand, will be ruined.”
She stopped undoing the drawstring to lean in and nip his earlobe. “It’s the same where I live. Some things don’t change.” She finished untying his chausses and gave them a hard tug.
“Oh!” He blushed again giving her a crooked grin.
“Look at you, Sir Simon showing off your stuff in those tidy tight, white, tiny braises.”
“Really, Emily, You are not supposed to talk this way. You are bold beyond measure.”
“So you’ve said.” She knelt to pull his chausses down so he could be free of them.
As she started and neared his wound, he stiffened and dug his fingers into her hair. “Em—”
“Trust me.” She eased his chausses down. She didn’t dwell at the site of his wound, knowing he’d misinterpret any hesitation. She did glance. It was less than a year old and wept in places where he’d been cauterized. Modern surgeries were much neater. The base of his wound look like it had gone through a meat grinder.
She moved the edge of his braises over enough to gently wrap her lips around his erection, breaking his tension. It was the best way she could think of. She teased him for a bit then felt the release of a deep breath he held.
“I’ll come back to that,” she said and winked. She stood and turned her back to him. “Now me.”
He undid the looped laces over the buttons of her dress. The dress lay at her feet like a puffed wool cloud. To her surprise and not to her surprise, Simon pressed his chest to her back and reached around to untie the ribbons of her chemise. He nestled his nose in the back of her hair, nuzzling her. As the ribbons came undone, he slowly pushed the sleeves from her shoulders, giving him access to her bare breasts. His touch light, he cupped them while he kissed his way from neck to shoulder. Every place his lips touched a faint gust of warm breath followed.
He pressed his lips to the vein in her neck. “Your heart is racing.”
She nodded. A croaked yes was all she managed.
“What if I do this?” He let go of her breasts and stroked the back of her arms with the back of his fingers, nipping the top of her shoulder.
“Ah, gooseflesh.”
“You’re taking too long.” She pushed her chemise down to her ankles and stepped out of it.
When she turned to face him, he guided them both to the grassy spot they’d shared wine. The birds who chirped all through the undressing stopped as though they intended to watch instead.
Simon wiggled the rest of the way out of his chausses and removed the short braies he wore underneath. Unlike him, this was the first time Emily had been naked while outside, a tidbit he didn’t need to know. For the longest time, he refused to let her participate other than to moan with pleasure and thread her fingers through his hair. He began with her forehead and kissed her down to her inner thighs and in between. He licked, and kissed, and sucked driving her mad to have him inside her. When he was done with her front, he rolled her over and kissed from the back of her neck, down her spine to the back of her knees.
She moaned low and throaty as he gently rolled her onto her back. He didn’t allow her to taunt him in the same way for long before he buried himself in her. He rocked deep then shallow testing, teasing. She buried her face in his neck to smother her cries of pleasure. He said her name twice, his breath hot on the top of her ear as he found his own release.
The birds started again and Emily wondered if they actually had been carrying on all along and she didn’t notice. The hot June sun beat down on them, drenched in sweat and gasping.
Spent, they both lay quietly, slowly catching their breath. Emily snuggled next to him, her head in the crook of his shoulder as she ran her fingernails up and down his thigh. Her growling stomach broke into their sexual haze.
“Shall we?” Simon asked.
She nodded and they sat up. Simon dug into the bag and fished out the loaf of bread and cheddar ball.
“I wish the river were closer. We could slip into the water to cool off,” Emily said, taking a bite from a hunk of bread.
“There’s a pond nearby we can use. No one’s around to bother us,” he told her, taking the other half of the bread she offered him.
They ate and drank wine casually chatting, still naked. Afterward, Simon got to his feet and extended his hand to Emily. She helped him over to his crutch and they headed for the pond.
“Emily, if I were to say I love you, would you be happy?” He paused and added, “I guess I’m asking if there’s a chance you could ever love me.”
It wasn’t her intention to have him love her. She wanted to show him he wasn’t the ugly cripple the whores said. Could she love him? Yes. But, what if she and Electra found a way home? If she left him for the modern world, she’d crush him.
“Emily? You must be honest. Do I take your silence for no?”
She had to answer. Truth was she might never get home. If not, then she’d be his love. She couldn’t say she loved him yet, but it wasn’t much of a stretch.
“Take it for a yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Conwy, Wales
“Whatever Edward the First paid his maste
r builder, it wasn’t enough.” Roger eyed the formidable fortress from the bordering woods. The castle sat on a narrow, rocky knoll overlooking a river to the rear and a walled town to the front. The town’s wall was part of the castle’s, extending from the high curtain wall that surrounded the fortress and its grounds. Roger counted two barbicans and eight, equally-spaced massive towers, four on the south side and four on the north. The towers divided the wall into three sections. Between them, twin defensive arrowloops had been carved running along a common battlement line.
“Did you know a river ran next to the castle?” Roger asked.
“Yes.”
Resentment fueled by anger welled in Roger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What difference would it have made? If it sat on a volcano, you’d have come for Electra.”
Oliver was right but Roger didn’t feel like letting the truth dampen his anger. He hated to admit it even to himself, a knot of trepidation tainted his anger. “You should’ve told me.”
“Sorry.”
Roger scrambled to the top of the hill they were on to get a better view of the exterior layout. The better view confirmed his worst fears. He couldn’t see the slightest vulnerability. “Mon Dieu.”
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Oliver asked.
“Did he expect the Scots to come all this way to attack?”
“He didn’t build it to protect against the Scots. He built it to defend against the Welsh. Rebellion against the English was rampant here at the time.”
“Think some of that ill will has carried over?”
Oliver shrugged. “Hard to say. That was many decades ago. Things change. Attitudes soften. A whole lot of Welsh bowmen enjoyed taking your lot out at Crecy and Poitiers.”
Roger knew too well how many bowmen fought them in France. He’d ridden into a rainstorm of those arrows. It’d just be damned convenient if they could convince a local to help them. From where he stood, his odds of getting inside the castle looked slim-to-none. Since the prince used Electra as his cook, sooner or later, she’d have to shop at the village market. A local place to hide out, the market gave him the best opportunity of seeing her and hopefully communicating.
In Time for You Page 21
