Taken and Seduced

by Julia Latham

  How could she learn the truth about him?

  At last, her hair was dry enough. Michael and Robert had already retired to their cloaks and blankets. When she stretched out on her side, Adam stiffened.

  “Nay, ’tis warm enough tonight,” she said quickly. “My cloak will give me enough comfort. Surely you would sleep better without me.” She saw the lump that was Robert shake.

  Adam gave his brother a frown before saying, “If you are certain…”

  Relieved, she nodded. “I am. Good night, Adam.”

  Long minutes passed, and she found herself trying to get comfortable. There was a lump beneath her hip. Although the air was warm, the cold from the ground seemed to seep slowly into her. Several shudders escaped her. And then she felt footsteps behind her, knew immediately who it was even before her cloak was lifted.

  Adam slipped in behind her. “I was cold,” he said shortly.

  She bit her lip to keep from chuckling, then sighed as the hot length of his body pressed up against her from behind. He felt so good. She barely kept herself from snuggling deeper into the cradle of his hips. She heard his voice rumble in her ear and she shivered, but not with the cold.

  “Please accept my apologies for my behavior earlier,” he said. “I have a man’s weaknesses, and they are worse where you’re concerned.”

  She turned her head to look back at him. “You must know I do not believe you were at fault. I provoked you shamelessly.”

  “You were frightened, and I took advantage of you.”

  She tried to smile. “Maybe we are…uneasy with each other because we are together all the time. I am not used to such a thing, and…I think you are not either.”

  “Though that may be true, ’tis a shameful thing to be unable to control oneself. I have never…had that problem before.”

  “And I am not helping you by being cold every night.”

  “Then we are in agreement that ’tis the constant togetherness that is bothering us.”

  She winced, wondering why that explanation made her feel bad. “Agreed. And we will stop apologizing for the past—and stop blaming ourselves,” she added for his benefit.

  “Very well.” He lowered his voice until it was only a rumble against her back. “Sleep well.”

  With a sigh, she forced herself to relax, one muscle at a time, until at last the day’s journey caught up with her, and she fell asleep.

  Adam had long ago been trained to awaken at whatever hour he needed to. He opened his eyes well before dawn, surprised to find that instead of Florrie’s back against him, she had turned in her sleep. She now snuggled against him, face first, one arm over his waist, one knee slid between his thighs. She breathed softly against his neck.

  His body surged to life with a primitiveness that astounded him. He clenched every muscle and bit off a groan. Was this going to get worse each night? One morn he might wake up and find himself between her thighs!

  But nay, he could not believe that. He was in control of his own body—even if she wasn’t in control of her own. There was sensuality buried beneath her prim nun’s surface, and he wondered if she even realized it. Very carefully, he slid his legs away from hers. She stirred and frowned, and as he looked down at her sweet face, he wanted to kiss her.

  Suddenly, he felt eyes on him, and glanced up to see his brother sitting up, watching them. Adam froze for a moment, but Robert only grinned and shook his head.

  Adam eased out from under the cloak and rolled to his feet. Ignoring his brother, he went through the trees to the stream to wash himself, using the first gray light of day to guide him. There were birds singing in the distance, and he tried to let the peace of the morn wash over him. It was difficult. He heard the crack of a twig and whirled, then relaxed.

  Robert had followed him. “She is growing comfortable with you, big brother.”

  Adam knelt on the bank of the river and only gave Robert a frown before scrubbing his face. He shook the water away and said, “’Tis natural. She is an innocent woman, who thinks this journey is nothing but an adventure.”

  “And what does she think of you?” Robert said, wearing a grin.

  Adam couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “She sees me as a protector, something she’s obviously never had.”

  “And you’ve never had anyone to protect.”

  Adam’s gaze shot to him, and for some strange reason, he felt angry. He didn’t know why. “Did I not have you and Paul?”

  Robert sat down on a log, hands dangling loosely between his knees. “Peace, brother. Since you were six you have protected us, to the detriment of any kind of normal life. I should have clarified what I meant: you have not had a woman to protect. It think it is different than you imagined it to be.”

  Adam wanted to stay on the defensive, but he found his shoulders sagging. He went to sit beside his brother.

  “Different is not the right word,” he said tiredly. “’Tis far more challenging than I had ever imagined. She is…she is…”

  “A woman. Now you see why I had to occasionally escape just to be with them.”

  “I have been with women,” Adam said stiffly.

  Robert chuckled. “I have to admit, I wondered about that. You were always so focused on our training, and on your work training others. Once I was permitted to hear about Martindale’s role in the crime against our family, at least I understood your obsession.”

  “’Tis not an obsession.” This was a long-running argument, so his response was mild. “And you were given the information when you were old enough to understand it, just as I was.”

  Robert sighed. “That is in the past.”

  “And our future.” Adam seldom allowed himself to think of the end of the journey, how he would feel, what he would do when at last he faced Martindale across their two swords. But now, in his mind’s eye, he imagined Florrie there watching them, perhaps standing between them. He angrily shook that thought away. This was none of her concern. She could not understand his need for justice; she was a woman.

  But wasn’t that his current problem?

  “But Florrie is in our present,” Robert continued. “What will you do if she grows too attached to you?”

  Though Robert didn’t speak the words, Adam understood the rest of his concern—what if Adam grew too attached to her?

  “I will not let it happen,” Adam said coldly. “She is Martindale’s daughter.”

  “I hope you remember that in the night.”

  Robert playfully hopped off the log, as if he expected Adam to reach for him. But Adam just stared at the mist that hung low over the dark water.

  “I shall return from my errand before midmorning,” Adam said. “Let her sleep as long as she wants.”

  Back at the campsite, Michael had already saddled his horse. After instructing the knight to hunt more game while he waited, Adam rode away, and within the hour he’d reached York. He had timed it well, for after riding past the homes lining the lane, he could see the gatehouse ahead, and the portcullis lifting up to admit people to the town. It was easy enough to find the one haberdashery, situated in the same vicinity as all the craftsmen and merchants.

  Dismounting from his horse, he left it tied to the rail outside and went in. His message was already written, ready to be sent to London. In it, he revealed his identity to Martindale, his capture of Florrie, and his challenge to meet the man in combat. He didn’t even consider that Martindale might betray his actions to the Crown. Nay, the man had too many of his own secrets to keep hidden.

  Since he knew that the League of the Blade was probably not looking for him, he decided to take a chance and use their messengers. It couldn’t be helped—he needed Martindale’s response as quickly as possible, and only the League had messengers waiting every fifteen miles between York and London.

  Adam would have an answer by the end of the next day, when they reached Nottingham.

  When Florrie awoke, she was surprised that the sun was already above the horizon. She was alone on
the blanket, which didn’t surprise her. But although she could see Robert, who seemed to be mending a leather strap, there was no one else in their encampment.

  Robert’s eyes met hers, and he gave her his usual cheerful grin. “A good morning to you, my lady.”

  “Florrie,” she said without thinking. “Otherwise you’ll speak too formally in front of strangers.”

  His grin widened. “You are learning the rules for disguising oneself quickly.”

  She shrugged, and looked about again.

  “Michael is washing down at the river,” he said. “He’ll keep an eye out for snakes.”

  She blushed, even as she remembered that her screams had brought Adam to her. She found herself reliving the hard feeling of him within her arms, between her thighs. It was difficult to focus on Robert. “Oh, do not tease me any more. You cannot imagine how embarrassed I feel.”

  “Do not feel so. You’re defenseless. I should teach you how to use a dagger.”

  “I cannot imagine Adam would approve. None of you would be foolish enough to trust me with a weapon.”

  “And speaking of my big brother, he should be returning soon.”

  Hesitantly, she asked, “Where did he go?”

  “Into the nearest town. He had a message to send.”

  “To my father?”

  Robert only shrugged. “He’ll tell you what he thinks you should know.”

  “You obey him well.”

  “Have we not already discussed how we younger siblings treat the elder ones?”

  She found herself giggling. “You are silly, Robert.”

  “When I want to be.”

  “All the time,” said Michael from beyond the fire, as he approached.

  Florrie stood up. “I will be back.”

  When she returned, Adam still hadn’t arrived, and she found herself feeling uneasy. It wasn’t that she feared being alone with Robert and Michael. It seemed to her that it was far more dangerous to be alone with Adam.

  But he was always so careful about being followed on this journey. What if someone had captured him?

  But by the time she finished the meal Michael had prepared, Adam was riding toward them, looking as impassive as ever.

  Florrie’s overwhelming relief worried her. She didn’t like feeling so concerned about him, so drawn to him. She was a woman who’d always relied on herself for the contentment that marked her life. She could not let a man who would only briefly be with her become so important. She had never given her family any power over her happiness; it must be the same way with Adam.

  But her body didn’t want to heed her mind, for it reacted to his presence with an awareness that was far too needy.

  She stood with her hands on her hips as he approached. “So you sent a message to my father?” Adam glanced at his companions, but she quickly added, “They did not need to tell me. What else would I assume?”

  Adam dismounted, and Michael led away his horse. It was interesting how much Michael took care of Adam, almost like a servant rather than an equal partner. Yet she knew Michael was also a knight, just as Adam was. Since Adam would call this journey a “mission,” every mission needed a leader, she guessed.

  Adam lifted a wineskin and drank, still watching her.

  “Are you going to tell me?” she prodded.

  “When there is something I think you should know, I will inform you.”

  He was reminding her of her place within this traveling party; she would do well to remember it. She nodded, letting him have his secrets. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to talk to her. She would discover the truth soon enough.

  Chapter 8

  After two days journey through drizzling rain, they made camp on the outskirts of Sherwood Forest long before the sun began to set. Adam saw Florrie give him a confused look, but he ignored it. She would find out soon enough why they were stopping early.

  He thought he was getting better at ignoring other things where she was concerned. Since they spent so much of the day huddled in cloaks against the rain, he’d been able to avoid looking at her. When they stopped for meals and rests for the horses, she’d avoided his gaze as much as he’d avoided hers. They were both trying to be sensible about their attraction.

  With the rain, no one had slept well the previous night. They’d had a hard time finding dry ground, and ended up sneaking into an abandoned barn at dark, too near a village for comfort. They hadn’t been able to light a fire, and had been miserably damp all night.

  But at last the rain had stopped, and the sun was peaking out from beneath low gray clouds. Sherwood Forest provided welcome shelter. The trees were plentiful, oaks with twisting branches, birches with their pale white bark. They made a bold campfire, and spread all of their damp clothing about it to dry.

  Adam watched Florrie sigh as she settled near the fire. He felt a twinge of conscience, knowing it was his fault she was on this journey, sharing their discomfort. But it could not be helped. He looked at his men. “I will return before nightfall.”

  She glanced up at him. “You are buying supplies?”

  “Aye.” And retrieving other things as well.

  “Good luck,” Robert said, watching him without smiling. “Are you certain one of us shouldn’t accompany you?”

  “I would rather you stay with Florrie.”

  She propped her head on her fist and sighed.

  Adam knew that, now that he’d alerted Martindale, there was more of a chance that he could be in danger. But the League’s message system was much more organized—and quicker—than any regular messenger Martindale could hire. Even if the man decided to respond to Adam’s challenge by rescuing his daughter instead of meeting him in honorable combat, it would be at least another day before Martindale could have men nearby.

  Adam reached Nottingham within an hour. He kept his cloak about him, his hat low over his brow, and took his time exploring the environment around the haberdashery. He didn’t see anyone lurking about waiting. At last he entered the building to retrieve his message, only to be told that there was no message.

  Adam questioned the man behind the counter quietly, as there were still customers purchasing hats in the store. But the man was adamant—Martindale’s steward told the London messenger that there would be no reply to Adam’s missive.

  Did the man not care about his daughter? Or did he think Adam wouldn’t dare harm her?

  Or perhaps he assumed that Adam would do exactly what he was going to do: travel to London and issue the challenge in person. Martindale would have several days to prepare, but what did that matter? One was either prepared for combat, or not.

  Of course, Martindale could be planning to rescue Florrie. Adam would take precautions, starting with his journey back to their encampment using a different path. It was almost completely dark by the time he returned, but the forest hid them well. He dismounted and led his horse inside.

  Robert melted out of the trees before Adam reached the fire, then accompanied him the last several yards.

  “Good trip?”

  “Interesting.”

  Michael stood up as they approached. “Interesting?” he echoed.

  Then all three men glanced at Florrie. She was seated on a log, holding her skirts wide. Her hair must have dried, for she’d pulled it back away from her face. She was watching Adam carefully, waiting. And then he decided that her reaction to the news would tell him more than keeping it a secret.

  “Yesterday morn,” Adam began, “I sent a message to your father, revealing that I had you, and wished to challenge him.”

  She slowly stood up. She didn’t look worried, as he thought she might have.

  “And you hoped to hear from him today?” she asked. “Surely ’tis much farther to London.”

  “The messengers I used are organized and swift. They reached London yesterday evening, delivered their message, and returned to your father this morn for a reply.” He hesitated, not wanting to hurt her, but not seeing how he could avoid it. “Marti
ndale chose not to send one.”

  Instead of revealing confusion or tears, her expression remained strangely impassive. She wasn’t surprised at all by this news.

  It was true that Martindale had never treated her well, kept her in service to her sisters, planned to send her away when he had no more need of her. But Adam didn’t believe that she was inconsequential to her father; Adam had done his research. He knew Martindale was arrogantly protective of his possessions, including his daughters. And Florrie was his.

  Could she know something of her father’s past, the secrets he held? Then Adam would have to discover them. It was time to begin using his persuasive talents on her. He could talk to her more, reveal a bit about himself to induce her to do the same.

  But he wouldn’t resort to seduction—he could not imagine using her in such a way. There were other methods of persuasion. Florrie was friendly and talkative. She would eventually slip and say what he needed to hear.

  At last, Florrie seemed uneasy with the silence. She clasped her hands together and looked at the fire. “I wonder what my father is thinking. After all, you could be…hurting me.”

  Robert exchanged a troubled glance with Michael, who only looked away and kicked at the ground, as if it wasn’t his place to be involved. Then he silently led Adam’s horse away.

  Adam approached the fire and sat down, reaching for a wineskin. “Or he could assume I would be too intelligent to do so. I am using you against him, which means I would take care of you. But he could have any number of plans against us, which is why we must be even more careful from now on. He now knows the general vicinity we’re traveling. How does he react when he’s threatened?”

  She sank down beside him, wrapping her arms about her knees. “If you’re speaking militarily, of course I do not know. But ’tis no secret that my father has a terrible temper. He could be waiting to attack you when you reach the city.”