“Do you wish to return to Waldo?”
“You know I cannot. I would live in a hovel before returning to Waldo.” Suddenly an idea occurred to her, and her face brightened. “I will petition the pope for an annulment.”
Drake brushed her words aside with a wave of his hand. “That could take years.”
Her face fell as she considered her bleak future. Remaining with Drake would endanger his life, for she knew Waldo would not rest until he had her back in his control. Eventually Waldo would remember Windhurst and come with his army to storm the castle. And by Drake’s own admission his fortress was ill prepared to withstand a siege.
“Is there nowhere else I can go to be safe? Mayhap Londontown,” she mused. “ ’Tis said one can lose oneself in a town that size.”
Drake seemed to consider her suggestion before discarding it out of hand. “Nay. You are gently raised and could not survive on your own in Londontown.” He searched her upturned face, then let his gaze slide down the length of her body. “Mayhap I will keep you as my leman.”
Raven bristled indignantly. “Does the Black Knight always get what he wants?”
His sexually charged smile sent a shiver down her spine. “Always. You asked for my protection, Raven, and I am extending it to you. I will become your protector and your lover. ’Tis not such a terrible fate, is it, sweeting?”
“You go beyond the bounds of madness,” Raven charged. “If I recall correctly, you do not like me.”
He dropped down beside her. “Mayhap I have changed my mind. You are a tempting morsel, Raven of Chirk.”
Raven’s chin rose defiantly. “I will not fornicate with you, Drake of Windhurst.”
His next words were low and seductive, setting her heart to pounding erratically.
“Will you not? We shall see about that, my lady.”
He cupped her chin in his large palm. She gazed deeply into his silver eyes and recognized something that both frightened and thrilled her. With a jolt of something akin to shock she realized that this man possessed the power to consume her, body and soul, if she did not guard against him. She had every reason to hate him, yet she could not find it in her heart to do so. Had he not visited her chamber on her wedding night, she would now be chained to Waldo forever.
Raven knew Drake’s seduction had not been an honorable act, that he had stolen her maidenhead because he hated her husband, but indirectly it had gained her freedom, precisely what she had been longing for.
Her thoughts would have continued had she not realized that Drake’s lips were so close she could feel his breath fanning her cheeks. She realized then that he was going to kiss her. She pressed her back against the tree but there was no escape as he closed the space between them. A startled puff of air left her lungs as his lips descended over hers and his hands grasped her shoulders, pulling her hard against him. His mouth moved slowly, coaxingly over hers, licking the corners of her lips, then thrusting his tongue inside for deeper penetration.
Raven felt her world tilt and spin wildly out of control as his hands sought her breasts beneath her cloak and his talented fingers molded her nipples into aching buds. Just when her body turned traitor and she leaned into him, he abruptly withdrew and handed the plate back to her.
“Eat, Raven. You will need all your strength for the journey ahead.” Then he was gone. Raven stared after him in consternation. Apparently he was fully prepared to use his seductive wiles to have her as his leman, and she made a silent vow to resist becoming another of the Black Knight’s conquests.
Drake sat apart from his men, eating his food without really tasting it. The devil take Raven of Chirk, he thought morosely. She fed his passion as few women ever had. He wanted her. Now. He wanted to press her down into the hard ground, push up her skirts, and thrust himself inside her tight, sweet passage. He had been the first with her, and for some unexplained reason he wanted to be the last. He shook his head in bewilderment. The notion of wanting Raven was not a comfortable one, especially after bearing her ill will all these years. Who would have thought she would grow into a raving beauty with a body that would tempt a saint? And the good Lord knew he was no saint.
“You seem preoccupied, Drake,” Sir John said as he joined Drake. “Do you want company?”
Drake’s greeting was anything but welcoming. “Suit yourself.”
John eased down beside Drake. “What are you brooding about now, my friend?” He gave Drake a knowing look. “Is it the fair maiden who has you all adither?”
“I have stolen Waldo’s bride, or have you forgotten?”
“Nay, I have not forgotten. I warned you ’twas folly but you would not listen. What happens now, Drake?”
Drake could not conceal the flare of remembered passion that kindled in his eyes. He recalled with pleasure every minuscule detail of Raven’s deflowering, and the recollection left him wanting more.
“I owe Raven my protection.”
“Are you determined, then, to take the lady to Windhurst?”
“I have no other choice.”
Drake’s scowl did not deter John. “There is still time to send her to Scotland. Mayhap I was wrong to suggest that the idea was not a good one. I fear Lady Raven will prove more trouble than she is worth.”
“I fear you are right, John, but I have no recourse.”
“I know you, Drake. The men are making bets on how long it will be before the lady becomes your mistress. We all saw you kiss her. Methinks the lady is more of a distraction than you are willing to admit.”
Drake’s gloom fled before his smile. “I want Raven, John. I want her as my leman. And when, if ever, I decide to take a wife, I will still want her.”
“That good, is she?”
Drake rose abruptly. “I will countenance no disparaging words about Raven. Inform the men they are to treat Lady Raven with the respect due to one of her station. That goes for you, too, John.”
Drake’s dark mood and curt warning did not appear to bother John. He rose gracefully and gave Drake a mocking bow. “Something tells me the lady will not yield as easily as you think. It will be interesting to see who wins this battle of wills. My money is on the lady.”
Seven
A knight despises weakness in himself.
They made camp that night in a wooded area. Bowmen set out immediately to hunt for their evening meal while Evan built a fire. Raven edged close to the fire and pulled her cloak tightly around her. Though midsummer still held jurisdiction over the land, the dark forest held a chill reminiscent of those cold days to come between Lammas and Michaelmas.
Shifting uncomfortably beneath the curious glances of Drake’s men-at-arms as they moved about the campsite, she searched for Drake and felt inexplicable panic when she failed to find him.
“Drake went out with the hunters.”
Raven was surprised to see Sir John standing at her elbow. She flushed, embarrassed that John had read her mind so easily.
“Come,” he said, grasping her elbow. “Evan placed a blanket on the ground for you to sit upon. You must be exhausted. It has been a long day.”
John did not seem in a hurry to leave. He sat down beside her and stretched out his legs toward the fire.
“Have you known Drake long?” Raven asked curiously. She had countless questions about Drake’s past. She wanted to know everything that had transpired from the time he’d left Chirk until now.
John was not the least bit reticent. “Aye. We fought together at Crécy in France. I am a landless knight, just as Drake was before he distinguished himself on the battlefield and was awarded Windhurst and an earldom. Doubtless you have heard how he saved the Black Prince’s life. I feel privileged to have fought beside Drake. When the king rewarded him with land and a title, I swore fealty to him and have been with him ever since.”
“And the men-at-arms?” Raven asked. “Have they all sworn fealty to Drake?”
“Aye. Though most serve him for wages, they are all loyal to the Black Knight, my lady. Yo
u have naught to fear from them.”
Perhaps not from Drake’s men, but she certainly had much to fear from the Black Knight himself, Raven thought. But that did not stop her from satisfying her curiosity. Tales of the Black Knight’s courage were legendary, but it was his private life she was most curious about.
“Has Drake no wife?”
“He has had no time for a wife. But now that he is finally settling down at Windhurst, I suppose he must think about heirs and such.”
“I have heard that women throw themselves at his feet.”
“Aye, and he accepts their homage as his due and rewards them by walking upon their backs,” John said, tongue in cheek.
Raven hid her smile behind her hand. “Tell me true, Sir John, does Drake have a leman? Or more than one, mayhap?”
“Drake has had many women, but presently claims no leman. Anything else you care to know, my lady?”
“Methinks you have told her enough,” Drake said as he strode up to join them. They had been so engrossed in their conversation that they’d failed to hear him approach.
Sir John leaped to his feet. “Drake! Must you sneak up on one like that? Have the hunters returned?”
“Aye. Have you naught else to do but regale Lady Raven with my exploits?”
John’s lips curved upward into a mocking smile. “I was but satisfying the lady’s curiosity.”
Obviously Drake did not share John’s mirth. “I hope that is all you are planning to satisfy.”
Raven gasped in outrage. “Drake! Your arrogance is appalling.”
Drake looked down at her sternly. “I am but protecting your virtue, my lady.”
“A little late for that, is it not?” Raven said dryly.
“Excuse me,” John said, giving Raven a courtly bow. “I must see to the men and horses.” He hurried off, apparently happy to remove himself from their verbal sparring.
Drake, however, seemed in no hurry to leave. “If you have questions about my past, Lady Raven, I suggest you ask me.”
“Is it so unseemly that I would wish to know more about my champion?”
“So long as you don’t delve too deeply into my private affairs.”
“Such as your women?”
His silver gaze searched her face. “They would not interest you.”
Raven’s curiosity still clamored for knowledge about the Black Knight’s romantic conquests, but she gave a wave of dismissal and said, “You are right. Your exploits are of no interest to me.”
Drake dropped down beside her. “You already know the important things about me. My father claimed I was bastard born. I lived with my mother and grandmother in a small village in Wales until my mother died. Then my father came for me and placed me in Lord Nyle’s service. I fell in love with your sister but she was taken from me, as you are well aware. Now you know everything.”
Not quite, Raven thought. There were still areas of mystery surrounding the Black Knight. Incredibly, she wanted to know the name of every woman he had bedded. That thought startled her, and she dropped her gaze to her lap.
“I prefer that you not question my friends about me behind my back,” he added.
Raven’s nod of acquiescence seemed to satisfy him, for he rose and excused himself. A short time later Evan arrived with a generous portion of roasted hare on a stick and a cup of ale. Raven ate with good appetite, licking her fingers and sighing happily after she had devoured every bite. Though the fare was a far cry from the elegant meals served at Castle Chirk, it tasted better than anything she had ever eaten.
Raven glanced across the campfire where Drake was sitting with Sir John, and quickly looked away in embarrassment when he turned his head toward her and met her gaze. A moment later he rose and walked over to join her.
“Would you like a bath, Lady Raven?” he asked, offering her his hand.
Raven’s small hand was swallowed by his as he pulled her to her feet. “A bath sounds wonderful. Is that possible?”
“Aye. There is a brook a short distance from the camp. I sampled the water earlier and found it tolerable.”
She noted that his hair was still damp and realized he must have bathed while their meal was being prepared. “Can I go now?”
“Aye, as soon as Evan brings soap and a drying cloth.”
As if on cue, Evan appeared with the necessary items.
“Direct me to the brook,” Raven said, peering through the dark forest.
“I will take you.” He grasped her elbow.
She dug her heels in. She did not relish being alone with Drake. He was too dangerous, too tempting, too male for her peace of mind. “I can find it myself; just point the way.”
His mouth thinned into a determined line. “I will take you. There are wild animals about. You may have need of my weapons.”
Raven decided not to argue the point. She had learned something revealing about Drake these past few days. When he set his mind to something, he usually got what he wanted.
Guided by shafts of pale moonlight spilling through the lofty treetops, Raven stumbled beside Drake through the dark, threatening forest. She was thankful now for Drake’s solid presence, aware that she never would have found the stream on her own. But Drake seemed to know exactly where he was headed as he led her around fallen stumps and clumps of underbrush that caught at her skirts. By the time they reached the stream, Raven was hopelessly lost. Now she knew why Drake had insisted on accompanying her.
They came out of the forest onto a grassy bank. Raven gave a gasp of pleasure at the sight that lay before her. It was pure enchantment. She stared in wonder at the million sparkling diamonds dancing upon the moonlit surface of the bubbling brook.
“ ’Tis lovely, and so peaceful.” Raven sighed. “Is it deep? I cannot swim.”
Drake seated himself upon the grassy bank. “The water will reach your waist, no more. ’Tis not dangerous. Bathe at your leisure, Raven. I will wait here for you.”
Raven sent him a startled look. Did he expect her to undress before him? “Turn your back.”
His arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. “I have seen you naked before.”
He had seen her naked, but she did not want to think about that, or what had taken place in her bedchamber. Just thinking about it made her tremble.
“Nevertheless, you will turn your back, Drake of Windhurst. ’Tis best we both forget what occurred in my bedchamber on my wedding night.”
With almost surly compliance, Drake handed her the soap and drying cloth and turned his back. Raven walked to the water’s edge, and after a furtive glance over her shoulder to see if Drake was watching, she quickly undressed and tested the water with a slender foot. She gave a squeal of surprise and jerked her foot back.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nay! Do not turn around. The water is cold.”
The urge to turn and watch Raven was so strong Drake had to force himself to think of other things. Then he heard a splash and his resolve melted away. He closed his eyes and imagined Raven standing in the water, her naked body gilded a pale gold. With his eyes still closed, he pictured her long chestnut hair floating around her, its rich color reflecting the moonlight. He felt his body stiffen in response to his fantasy and shifted to accommodate the hardening length of his sex.
A knight must despise weakness in himself, Drake reminded himself. His good intentions lasted until he opened his eyes and darted a furtive glance over his shoulder. His mouth went dry. Like Venus arising from her bath, Raven was as lovely as a goddess. Drake envied the droplets of water that clung to her breasts and ran in rivulets down her flat stomach. Passion rose swift and jarring within him as his imagination ran rampant. He wanted to lap the water from her nipples and delve below the water to taste that sweet place between her thighs.
Raven must have sensed his eyes on her, for she glanced over at him. He quickly turned his head away. He knew it was too dark for her to be sure that he was watching, and he felt no guilt when he turned back to watch her fin
ish her bath.
His mouth went dry as she lifted her arms to soap her hair, her breasts thrusting upward in sharp relief. His erection throbbed painfully against his hose and he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his groan. He was completely turned around now, openly ogling Raven. When she wrung the water from her hair and waded toward the bank, he uncoiled himself like a cat and moved toward her like an animal stalking its prey. She looked up, saw him, and halted.
“Drake! You promised.”
“Nay, I gave you no promise.” He picked up the drying cloth she had dropped on the bank and held it out. “Come, the night air grows cold.”
“Curse you!”
“Aye, curse me all you want, sweeting, but you have to admit there is a force pulling us toward one another.”
She hugged her arms over her breasts, shivering in the cool air. “There is naught between us, Drake of Windhurst.”
“We will discuss that later. Will you come out, or must I come in after you?”
Raven had no choice. The night air was raising goose bumps on her skin. She waded toward him. He held the drying cloth between his outstretched arms and she walked into it. His arms came around her. Her chilled flesh warmed quickly within the circle of his arms, and after a few minutes she felt his heat penetrating her through his tunic and the drying cloth. The scent of him was sharp and potent: wood smoke, ale, and aroused masculine flesh. The scent mingled with her recollection of shared passion to create a heady brew of seduction.
“You warm quickly, sweeting,” he rasped into her ear. “Shall I make you burn? I can, you know.”
Her reply was lost in the magic his lips were creating as he lowered his head and claimed her mouth. His mouth moved slowly over hers, taking, demanding, giving her no choice but the one he offered. He released his hold on the drying cloth and it fell to the ground. He ran his hands down her body, over the curve of her breasts, the indentation of her waist, the smooth roundness of her thighs and buttocks. He pressed her against him, his hips firm against hers, his leg moving relentlessly between her thighs. She gave a soft hiss of protest as he slowly lowered her to the ground.
Connie Mason Page 10
