She grinned, almost wickedly, and squeezed his hand. “I want all twelve from you,” she said in the most provocative whisper he had ever heard.
Benedick stared at her in horror; yet, despite his dismay at her request, his gaze dropped to her lips...lips that tasted finer than wine...lips he had imagined stroking another part of him... Benedick blinked, disgusted with himself. He was a lecher. There was nothing more contemptuous than an older man preying on a young girl, as his own father had done. Had he become that cold-blooded?
Frowning, Benedick ignored the clamor of his body, and, laying one hand on Noel’s shoulder, he brushed his open mouth against her forehead in a kiss that, if not quite chaste, would not lead to anything more. He expected to feel nothing at that simple touch, but her scent enveloped him, and he drew in a deep, shuddering breath, closing his eyes as if to take her into himself.
“Noel! Do you have a kiss for me?” Benedick lifted his lids at the sound of Alard’s voice. Although the functioning part of his brain told him that it would be wise to hand her over to his squire, his fingers on her shoulder tightened, preventing escape.
“Nay,” Noel said, her gaze never leaving his. “I would have another from my knight.”
There was something in the way she claimed him as her own that both touched and annoyed him. “I will not marry you,” he said.
“But will you kiss me?” she asked, shamelessly entwining her arms around his neck. A wisp of her bright hair fell forward, and Benedick lifted a hand to brush it away from her cheek. Her skin was flawless and silken, but his attention was caught by the golden strand, and he rubbed it, shimmering and alive, between his fingers.
Time seemed to slow and stop, the hall around him quiet and still, as he looked down at her. In that moment, it seemed as if he had waited his entire life for this woman, for a salvation that existed just beyond his grasp. Tempted but wary, he refused to reach out for it, but in the end, he had no choice, for it was Noel who lifted herself on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his.
The minute Benedick felt the touch of her lips, his blood surged, his thoughts swam and whatever had held him back was swept away in a flood of sensation. He knew only her sweetness, her softness, her light to his darkness. And he took it, stroking her tongue with his own, sucking her warmth into himself. His fist closed in her hair, and he groaned, seized with a pleasure so hot and deep that he could not deny it.
Only the book between them prevented him from fitting her curves to his hardness. Only a last vestige of rational thought prevented him from taking her on the floor of his keep, surging into her body and knowing, at last, the denouement of his dreams. And only the delighted shriek of a maid and Alard’s brazen jostling for position beneath the mistletoe brought the madness to an end.
Breathing hard, Benedick rested his forehead against Noel’s. His knuckles, still clutching the book, were pressed between her breasts, and he could feel the rapid pulsing of her heart. The discovery made him shudder, and Benedick knew he must release her before temptation again stole his wits. But even then, as the sights and sounds of his surroundings came rushing back with vivid clarity, Benedick did not want to let her go. He wanted to hold her, claiming her as his own, taking her into his bed—and his life—forever.
It was the discovery of that fierce and startling longing, wholly unexpected and totally unacceptable, that made Benedick finally push her away. Without looking back, he left her, seeking the haven of his chamber and a peace he knew he would never find.
Chapter Five
Benedick stood in front of the hearth, alternately craving and despising its heat. He needed to be cold. Cold and composed if he was to face the truth, and do so he must, no matter how much it disgusted him. Groaning, Benedick ran a hand through his hair and admitted the unthinkable to himself.
He lusted after his ward.
The dreams had come again last night, vague erotic visions of Noel beneath him, naked and sweet, filling him with warmth even as he filled her with his seed. Muttering a foul oath, Benedick slammed his fist against the stones. He had awakened this morning, bathed in his sweat, his body rigid and ready, only to grasp nothing but his blankets.
And, if the dreams weren’t bad enough, he had only to recall the reality that had taken place under the mistletoe. Not once, but twice had he lost himself in the taste and feel of Noel, forgetting his position, his decisions and all else, like a randy fool.
Things were getting out of hand, of that he was certain. The lesson he had sought to teach her had gone awry. Instead of backing away from his embrace, Noel now pursued him with renewed fervor. Benedick flushed at the thought. By faith, he was but a man, and flattered by her purpose, but he could not encourage her vain quest for marriage.
Although he wanted to protect her from the harsh truth, Benedick could only go so far without sacrificing them both to another, grimmer, reality. He knew it was better that she take the blow now than later, for each day she seemed to grow bolder and more determined.
The time had come to talk seriously with her. And Benedick could not do it in the hall, surrounded by the very essence of her, with the greenery, the mistletoe and the reminder of her Christmas wish everywhere. Nor did he care for the presence of others, especially Alard, with his perpetual smirk.
So he had ordered her to meet him here, in the great chamber. This morning, when the remnants of his dream drove him to urgency, it had seemed the only solution, for the old keep had no solar. But now, as Benedick glanced behind him, he noticed that the bed took up an inordinate amount of space, taunting him with the memories of his visions.
Swearing, he leaned his arm against the stones and laid his forehead against it. Rest and quiet. That is what he had sought here. Instead, he was plagued with a hall full of noisy celebrants during the day and sleepless nights fraught with phantoms. Perhaps he would never find surcease, Benedick thought sourly, because he so little deserved it.
“Benedick?”
Startled, Benedick raised his head to see his ward standing just inside the doorway. He had not heard her arrival, but that was not what struck him so forcefully. It was her use of his name, breathless and intimate upon her lips, that spread heat throughout his body. She had always called him “Sir Villiers” or “sir knight” before, and the gesture of familiarity echoed his dreams like a haunting refrain. He tensed, as if to battle, though he was not sure whether the war was against her or within himself.
As he watched, Noel began to shut the door, but he stopped her with a sharp grunt. Already he regretted his choice of location for their meeting; he did not want to be tempted further. “Leave it, for I would not cloister you here. I only wanted some privacy in which to talk.”
Her eyes were so blue and so full that Benedick nearly flinched at the sight. In them shone curiosity and sweetness and a gentleness such as he had never seen directed at himself. Faith, she was young and innocent!
Swearing, Benedick pushed off the wall. “I called you here to warn you that I will have no more displays like those under the mistletoe.” He turned away as the images of her softness and heat assailed him. Stepping toward the window, he leaned into the chill to cool his unwanted ardor.
“As your guardian, it is my responsibility to find you a husband, and I do not want you going soiled to him. If you must have twelve kisses because of some ridiculous tradition, then limit yourself to the children or Hardwin.” Anyone too young or old to respond, Benedick added silently.
“But—”
Benedick held up a hand, halting her protest. “I take full responsibility for my part in...things,” he said awkwardly. “However, these kisses are to be those of friendship, brief and chaste. Therefore, you will not seek them from me or any other man.”
“But I want to kiss you,” Noel replied in that breathless voice that tightened his body. “And it will not bother my husband, for it is you I will marry.”
“No.” It was a harsh exhalation, sharp and painful, as he turned on her. “This foolishness o
f Christmas wishes must cease,” he warned through gritted teeth.
Far from being frightened, Noel did not even look perturbed by his decree. “’Tis my wish to do with as I will,” she said with a smile. “You may be master of this keep, but you have no sway over the season’s magic.”
“Magic!” Benedick swore again and stepped toward the hearth. For a long moment, he stared into the fire, seeing ghosts in the wavering flames and blood in the red embers. “I am old and tired, Noel,” he said finally, “and not a fit husband for you.” Lost in thought, Benedick was not sure what he expected, but certainly not her light trill of laughter.
“I would hardly call six and twenty ready for the grave,” she replied. “And you seemed lively enough last night”
Benedick shuddered as her words reached out and caressed him, her voice threaded with both shyness and seduction. He slanted her a hard, warning glance. “I am a man, as any other, so do not tempt me.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, but it was not fear Benedick saw on her face, and he nearly groaned aloud at the desire, fresh and newly minted, that transformed her features. “Noel,” he whispered roughly, turning back to the fire. “You are young, vibrant and good—and deserving of the same.” Although Benedick had thought them often enough, the words stuck in his throat.
“Perhaps I could just share some of my own abundance,” she replied softly. Seriously.
Benedick bit back an oath. “You little fool! You have no idea who I am or what I have done! I am a bastard born. I fought my way up from nothing, and once attached to a household, I got ahead by fighting harder, better, fiercer than those who trained with me. I have hired myself out to battle every since. Sometimes I can even remember their faces, these dead men. And for what were they murdered, an acre of dirt? A rich man’s greed?” he muttered.
Without waiting for her reply, he continued on, forcing himself to speak plainly. “I don’t know what you imagine a knight’s world to be, but I have made my living...I earned this keep...by killing, Noel. That’s what I do.”
Finally, Benedick turned to face her, prepared for the retreat he expected, telling himself it was for the best. But Noel did not flinch. No horror or revulsion showed on her lovely features, just a somber aspect that he rarely saw, along with that confounded gentleness.
“Not anymore,” she said softly.
Although the absolution she gave him threatened to undo him, Benedick schooled himself to reveal nothing. But when she stepped forward, he panicked. Somehow, he knew that if she touched him, he was lost and all his fine resolutions with him. Without looking at her, he moved past her to the door only to pause on the threshold.
“As your guardian, I am ordering you to obey me,” he said, assuming the harsh tone he had often used with his men. Turning his head, he regarded her with a bleak coldness that no hearth could ease. “No more kisses, Noel. No more gifts,” he said firmly.
“And no more wishes,” he concluded.
Noel watched him go, hugging herself against the sudden chill. When she glanced around, searching for the source of the draft, she found none. And then she knew: it had emanated from her knight.
Benedick’s prohibitions hung heavy in the air, air redolent with the smell of greenery, and Noel smiled shakily when she noticed that he had not torn down the branch she had placed over the door. Christmas magic. It seemed to flicker before her eyes, struggling to life, and Noel sighed wistfully. It had better be powerful this year to combat Benedick’s stubborn refusals.
It could be worse, Noel told herself with her usual optimism. At least he had not found fault with her. He had not claimed that she was ugly or ill-mannered or repulsive, and she would not have believed him, if he had. Benedick might have contempt for her youth, but Noel was old enough to sense that he was attracted to her. His kisses had proved it.
Noel shivered, suddenly warm again, as she remembered the feel of his hard body pressed close, the gentle touch of his callused hand against her cheek, the fantastic pleasure of his mouth upon hers. And Benedick had been just as moved as she, for she had heard his rapid breathing and a stark groan that had made her shudder with delight.
The first kiss was so startling in its revelations that Noel had not been sure of his attachment, but she had come away more certain the second time. Smiling at her first, heady surge of feminine power, Noel brightened. Oh, she had been daring last night all right, but obviously she had pressed Benedick too far, too fast.
Now what?
Noel’s smile faded when she realized that she could more easily change his opinion about her than about himself. For it was himself Benedick had maligned. Unfairly, Noel knew. No wonder this man seemed so different from the young warrior she had met. Benedick was tired, not in body but in spirit, and Noel knew that such wounds were less easily cured.
Yet she had no doubt that she could do it, if he let her. Even now, she ached to go after him, to put her arms around him and give him the comfort he so desperately needed. But not yet. He looked to be a man already pushed to his limits. She would have to give him some time, but that was something of which she possessed very little.
There were only eight days until Epiphany, and then both her time and her wish would run out.
Benedick tried to concentrate on the accounts in front of him, but he kept wondering where Noel was and what she was doing. Since she given him neither kisses nor gifts for the past few days, he should have been well pleased that she was finally obeying his dicta.
Only he wasn’t.
In fact, he was like a man bedeviled. Befuddled by lack of sleep, he increasingly felt as if he were no longer in control of himself. Even as he counted the days until he would be free of her, Benedick sought her out, drinking in her presence like a thirsty peasant. She alternately enthralled and dismayed him until he knew not what to think—or to feel.
Now, poised over his books, he thought he could smell her perfume, the fresh, clean scent of her, and he drew in a deep, unsteady breath. Perhaps his mind, unused to such things as leisure time and plaguing dreams, had begun playing tricks on him.
“Benedick?”
At the sound of her voice calling his name, Benedick looked up, both relieved that she was not a figment of his imagination and dismayed by his body’s swift reaction to the sight of her. His gaze rode up her gown, searching the opening of her fur cloak for the lemon silk below, then traveled up her slender throat to her lovely face. She was smiling, and a familiar warmth gathered in his chest and traveled outward as if Noel herself had gathered him close.
“Come now, put away those dry books, for ’tis a holiday. It snowed during the night, and now we are off to gambol and skate upon the pond,” she said.
“What?” Blinking to clear his thoughts, Benedick could not believe he had heard her correctly, but then very little of what Noel said seemed to make sense to him.
“Come skating with us,” she said, holding up a set of animal bones that had been fashioned into slender points. “The water is frozen over, the sky has cleared, and it is fine weather to be out and about. ’Tis tradition,” she said. Her innocent eyes were wide and sparkling, as if she thoroughly enjoyed teasing him, and Benedick scowled, prepared to deny her when Alard appeared. Dressed for the cold weather and moving entirely too close to Noel, he obviously intended to go with her. Benedick realized he would have to assign the errant youth more duties, at least until Epiphany.
“Saint Norbert’s knee! You’ll never get Benedick to come with us,” his squire said. “He doesn’t know how to have any fun!”
Fun. Benedick snorted in contempt. His life had ever been one of struggle and battle, not holidays and their requisite foolishness. He had no time for such nonsense, and he opened his mouth to tell Alard so, but the sight of the two of them together stopped his pithy retort. He liked not the cozy friendship between them, especially after he had warned his squire away from his ward. Perhaps he would join them, if only to keep an eye on the insolent Alard.
“He knows
how to play,” Noel replied in a breathy tone that made Benedick glance at her sharply. Coming around the table, she took his hand, tugging on him, as usual. “He has been too busy being brave and valorous, but now that he is home to stay, he can enjoy himself.”
Benedick refrained from pointing out that his idea of enjoyment was rest and warmth and quiet, not a deliberate trek into the cold. He let her pull him to his feet, his hand unaccountably loath to slip from hers, and lead him across the hall, but he drew the line at sliding around some pond like an unruly child.
“I will not skate,” he said.
“Oh, very well, just come along then. It’s too stuffy to remain inside on such a beautiful day!” Noel replied. Before he knew it, Alard had tossed him his cloak and disappeared out the doors, along with another youth.
Noel led him a different direction, into the garden, where the herbs Hardwin claimed she had planted lay covered with snow. A tall ash lifted its black branches into the sky, and bushes and benches were softened by their white covering.
“If you will not skate, then you must take the consequences,” Benedick heard Noel say from behind him. Then suddenly he felt a smack upon his shoulder. He turned his head to see flakes of white falling from his cloak. Had she struck him?
“Come now, surely you know how to make snowballs?” she said. She had pulled on her gloves and was patting something between her hands. “Now, watch carefully,” she instructed. When the lump was small and hard, she tossed it at the low stone wall.
She missed, her attempt landing in a clump of dry stalks of vegetation before the stones. Despite himself, Benedick laughed at her efforts. She turned to him, arms crossed in front of her, her toe tapping into the white around their feet. “I suppose you can do better?”
The Knights of Christmas Page 24
