Rowena cast an uncertain glance over Christian’s broad back. Since she had agreed to accompany him, the knight had limited his conversation to the details of their journey, though he told her precious little of those. Rowena was content with this, as she had never traveled farther than the nearby villages and did not know what to ask.
One day had not given Rowena much time to say goodbye, nor to think about what a drastic step she was taking. Perhaps that was fortunate, for she had not been able to completely set aside her fears.
There had been one unpleasant moment when Christian had asked her what had happened to the drawing he had left on the table. Instantly recalling that Sean had taken something when he had run from the cottage, Rowena had nonetheless informed the knight that she had not seen it.
It was the truth. She had not, and had only a suspicion that Sean had taken it.
Though he had cast more than one speculative glance in her direction, Christian had said nothing more. What could he say? He would not accuse her of taking the drawing, and he had no way of knowing if Sean had been there to see her.
They had not spoken again until late last eve, when he had come to her with a scowl on his handsome face. “Rowena, you do not perhaps happen to have any coin, do you? Though we will eventually reach Avington without it, our journey would be made much more simple for having some.”
She had nodded quickly. “I had forgotten that all your belongings were lost.”
She moved to the chest beside her bed and began to withdraw its contents. Only when she reached the bottom did she at last remove a fair-size velvet bag. She stood, holding it out to him.
Christian had moved forward with obvious amazement. “Where did you get this?”
She shrugged. “My mother showed it to me when I was fourteen. She said my father had given it to her when he sent her away. I use only what I need, as did my mother.”
He poured out a handful of gleaming coins, some of them gold. “This is a veritable fortune.”
She looked at him. “I take it you see this as even further proof that I am Rosalind.” He watched her and she said, “My father need not have been the earl of Kelsey to have given this to my mother.”
Christian had shrugged then. “I will see that I keep a reckoning of every penny, and return it to you.”
She had no doubt of his honesty. It was her own strange attraction to him that made her move away from him.
When her foot suddenly slipped now on the rocky path, Christian reached back to clasp her arm in a steady grip. “I am fine,” she murmured, drawing away from him, though she felt like a fool. She would do well to concentrate on whence she was going.
With a bow, he reached for the bundle she carried. “Give it to me.”
She raised her chin defiantly, but he continued to hold out his hand. Realizing that she had little chance of winning, she handed it over in silence.
He nodded with approval. “Now, have a care. It is extremely slick.”
She cast him a scathing glance. “Do not worry. I know these paths.”
He frowned but went on without further comment.
When they, at last came to a more open and easily traversible portion of the beach, Rowena looked up to see that a man stood not far ahead of them. He held the reins of a great black stallion in his hands, his face wary as he watched the animal. Nearby lay what looked to be a saddle. As he noted their approach, the stranger’s expression seemed to ease and he lifted a hand in greeting.
Christian’s stride lengthened and he reached the man and horse before her, taking the reins in his hand and running an affectionate hand across the powerful neck. Rowena watched as that great beast leaned down to nuzzle the knight’s shoulder.
Deliberately she studied the ground as she took the last steps toward them, feeling somehow uncomfortable with Christian’s tenderness toward the horse. For some reason it caused a tightness in her own throat to see how grateful Christian was to see the stallion returned to him.
She looked to the other man, a squarely built fellow with a thatch of auburn hair. He seemed more than happy to have released the horse, and watched the exchange between man and beast with obvious amazement. He said, “Once I had managed to get the saddle off him, m’lord, I couldna get it back on.”
“My saddle?” Christian seemed to note it for the first time, releasing the beast, which followed him with amazing docility as he went to kneel on the ground beside it. He opened a leather pouch that hung from it. With a grin that made her heart turn over for the boyish joy in it, he pulled out a heavy velvet cloak of deepest midnight blue, then reached in again, and removed another much smaller object.
“Do you see, Rowena? It is here, the brooch Jarrod had made for me right after The Dragon was killed.”
She moved closer, her gaze taking in the heavy brooch, which bore the symbol of a dragon. It was a very distinctive piece, and Christian’s pleasure could not have been more obvious. “It must mean a great deal to you.”
“More than you know.” He turned to the other man. “Would you give me your name, sir?”
“Dougal of Langton, m’lord.”
Christian reached into Rowena’s velvet purse, which he wore on the belt Hagar had given him. “Please take this as a token of my thanks. You have done me a great service this day by returning not only my horse, but my belongings.”
Dougal took the gold coins with wide eyes. “I thank ye, m’lord, but ’tis too great a sum. I couldna keep the things when I learned that the horse was being sought by its owner.”
“Your honesty and humbleness are to be commended. But no sum is too large for your kindness in returning Gideon and the brooch to me. I assure you that their value far exceeds that amount.”
The fellow ducked his head, appearing pleased at this praise. “I wouldna have asked it, but ye are most welcome. Now I mun get back to my work.”
Christian bowed, and Dougal bobbed his head to both him and Rowena before taking his leave.
Immediately, Christian donned the cloak, clasping the dragon brooch over his breast. He placed Rowena’s bag inside one of his, then began to saddle the stallion, which held perfectly still under his familiar hands.
Rowena stood silent, waiting, not sure what she should do. Yet as she continued to watch the proceedings, it was suddenly clear to her that she would be expected to mount that great animal with Christian Greatham. Looking at the saddle, she could not imagine how this was to be borne.
How could she possibly place herself in such intimate contact with a man as powerful and unknown to her as the stallion he rode? A man whose kiss had brought about an awakening inside her that she would much prefer to forget?
But what could be done about it?
Nothing!
She should have thought, should have known this was coming. She could not walk to England. Much as she might have preferred it to being in such close contact with Christian, he was in haste to return to his own family, and would never agree.
Thus it was that when he turned to her, the animal prepared for the journey, she said not a word concerning her misgivings. Clearly thinking of nothing beyond being on their way, he said, “I will mount and pull you up after me.”
He was in the saddle in one swift motion, reaching out to take her hand even as he nodded toward the stirrup. “Rest your foot upon mine and I will draw you up.” When she hesitated for a brief instant, he spoke reassuringly. “Do not worry. He will not harm you.”
This statement, however kindly meant, did not speak to her real difficulty. But Rowena would rather perish beneath those sharp hooves than admit the truth.
Raising her head high, she took the offered hand, placed her foot over Christian’s and felt herself sailing through the air and into the saddle. She had no time to think of anything else then, for the moment she was seated behind him, Christian started off. He urged the eager stallion forward, its long strides devouring the sand beneath them at an alarming rate.
Never in her life had Rowena imag
ined traveling at such speed, and she found herself clutching the back of the knight’s cloak. Yet as they moved on and she began to grow more accustomed to the motion and height, she became more aware of the man who sat before her.
From behind, Christian’s body was no less masculine and distracting. His broad shoulders flexed with each command to the responsive stallion.
Rowena found herself becoming flushed, though the day was quite cool. It was with fixed determination that she set her mind to examining the vegetation along the path. Yet she knew the hours ahead of her would be long indeed.
Christian did not stop until the last of the light had died in the sky. He could have kept on riding, would dearly love to do so, but he did not wish to jeopardize Gideon, carrying two as he was. Even though the stallion would not be overstressed by the addition of Rowena’s slight weight, her presence on his rump might throw off his stride enough that he might stumble in a hole in the darkness.
Christian drew the horse to a halt on the banks of a stream he had stopped at on his way to Ashcroft. He turned to address Rowena, who had said very little during the past hours. “We are stopping here. I will get down, then help you to dismount.”
Her soft, “Oh,” sounded more like a groan than an answer, and he realized that she must be tired. He had been so occupied with getting on his way, with his thoughts of how Jarrod and Simon would react to his bringing Rowena to Avington, with his worry over what his family would be thinking at his long absence, that he had not considered Rowena.
Well, that was not entirely true. In some ways he had been too aware of her, of the gentle warmth of her behind him. Mayhap he had chosen to concentrate so intently upon other matters because of that.
Yet now he realized he should have been slightly more attentive to her well-being. Quickly he swung out of the saddle and held up his hand, trying to gauge her expression in the darkness as she hesitated.
Slowly she placed her hand in his, then remained motionless on the stallion’s back.
Puzzled, Christian said, “Do you not wish to get down now?”
She shifted slightly and a soft gasp escaped her. Her voice was a barely audible whisper. “I…my legs…they tingle so.”
Instantly he realized that he had indeed pushed her too hard. Rowena had never ridden a horse before.
He reached up and took her into his arms, knowing that there was no way to avoid the pain she would experience, but wincing as she uttered a second hoarse cry. As carefully as was humanly possible, Christian held her against him, until the worst of the pain seemed to ease and her body relaxed somewhat. Only then did he slowly lower her legs until her feet rested upon the ground, though he continued to hold her tightly against him, supporting her weight.
When she raised tormented eyes, illuminated by the bright crescent moon that had now peeked above the tops of the trees surrounding the clearing, he said, “Forgive me. I should have thought, should have considered your inexperience….”
She shook her head. “Please, do not take all the responsibility. I should have said something….”
Guilt tightened his chest at her refusal to blame him. He spoke gently. “Can you stand if you hold on to me?”
She nodded and gingerly wrapped her arms about his waist.
Christian was appalled at the jolt of heat that passed through him. He was determined to ignore it. Rowena was in agony.
Without another word he raised one hand to pull one of the furs free from the saddle. Being careful not to jar her, he spread it on the ground, then lifted her. In spite of his determination to control his reaction to her, he felt a further stirring in his lower body as he became aware of her sweet curves against him.
With sweat beading his upper lip, he settled her upon the fur with great care.
Then he quickly went about building a fire. As he did he continued to castigate himself, not only for the response he did not seem capable of controlling in spite of his self-assurances to the contrary, but also for allowing her to come to such a state.
Daylight did not bring a great lessening of Rowena’s misery. The tender skin of her inner thighs was so abraded that she could not bear to have them rub together. She had put a brave face on things last eve, telling a clearly concerned Christian that she would be fine after a good night’s sleep.
He had nodded and gone about setting up their camp. When he had come to check on her once more, Rowena had feigned sleep, too exhausted to make conversation.
With daylight came the realization that she still did not wish to tell Christian how bad it was, and that she had slept very little. How could she do so, knowing as she did that he wished to continue their journey? Conversely, how could she remount that horse?
The moment Christian rose from his own bed across the still-smoldering fire, he came to kneel beside her. His blue eyes searched hers, and finally he said, “It is bad.”
Though she wished otherwise, Rowena could not deny it. “Aye. I am so very sorry.”
He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Do not worry on that score for now. We must accept what is.” He held her gaze. “I think you must allow me to see how bad it is.”
Rowena stiffened. “Nay, I—”
He halted her. “I must know if you require a physician.”
Quickly she exclaimed, “I do not!”
His lips twisted wryly. “Forgive me if I insist on knowing this for myself. Being responsible for your well-being and safety after convincing you to come with me, I cannot simply ignore this problem.”
She gave a reluctant sigh. “I know what needs to be done to help myself. But I cannot fetch the ingredients that are required.”
Eagerly he stood, his voice tinged with relief. “Of course! For a moment I had forgotten your aptitude at healing. You of all people know what should be done. I can fetch whatever is needed.”
Doubtfully she asked, “Do you think you could bring back the ingredients I require? It will mean gathering some in the wood.”
His gaze was determined. “If you tell me what they look like I will do my utmost. If I collect the wrong ones I will keep going back until the correct ones are found.”
She sighed, leaning back on her makeshift pillow of boughs, deciding that she might as well tell him all. “Then let us try, for to be completely honest I will not be able to ride for some days lest I treat myself.”
Christian took a deep breath, then nodded grimly.
She lost no more time. “The wild marjoram you will find in the wood, and rose petals may be had if you can locate a nearby farm, as well as some type of fat.”
He nodded. “How much will be required?”
She shrugged. “Enough to mash into a paste that will cover the abrasions from knee to thigh.”
He grimaced. “Is it really so very bad?”
She gave a sharp nod.
Christian’s expression grew even more determined. “I will return anon.”
Rowena watched him go off on his horse, then eased farther back against the fragrant boughs with a groan of misery. It took no small effort to disguise the degree of her pain from Christian. Yet she was determined to continue to do so, for he was clearly beset by guilt.
It seemed a very long while until he returned with the plants she had requested. But as the sun was not yet very high in the sky, it had likely been a fairly short span of time.
He had, thankfully, found exactly what she required. And in more than sufficient amounts.
Immediately he said, “Pray, what needs doing next?”
Eager for the release she knew the medicine would bring, Rowena told him what to do. The tasks were accomplished with surprising efficiency, Christian being responsive to her every direction.
When the paste in the wooden bowl had cooled, Rowena held out her hands. To her chagrin she saw that they were unsteady from the pain she had been suffering since the previous day.
The moment he saw the way the bowl quivered in her grasp, Christian frowned. “You cannot tend to yourself.”
She pulled it close against her, wincing as the sudden movement sent a jolt of agony through her lower limbs. “I will do it well enough.”
He shook his head. “You must see that is not reasonable.”
She refused to look at him, afraid he would detect the horror she felt at the idea of his touching her so intimately. “You cannot—”
With unwavering perseverance, he took the bowl from her trembling hands. “I intend naught but to help you, Rowena. I will be gentle.”
She had no doubt that was all he intended. It was her own thoughts and feelings that were in doubt. In spite of her pain, the very notion of Christian putting his hand on her…
Nonsense. He simply wanted her well so they could be on their way.
Surely she could control her body’s unfathomable responses to this man, given the circumstances. She found herself chattering nervously. “I am sure you have seen many women’s legs.”
His voice was rueful as he replied, “Not as many as you might think.”
Her gaze ran over his face as she searched for any sign that he was mocking her. But she saw only self-derision in his wryly twisted lips and arched dark brows. Surprise made her say, “How could that be?”
He seemed to be studying the contents of the bowl with great concentration. “Mayhap I am less appealing to the female sex than you might imagine.”
Rowena did not think so. Reticent and particular, but not unappealing.
For reasons she could not even begin to fathom, Christian’s revelation pleased her.
He pushed her gently but insistently back onto the fur, and she did not fight him. He drew her gown up her legs with slow and obvious care, but Rowena was fully conscious of the fact that Sean was the only other male ever to see her legs, and he had not done so since they were twelve.
When her thighs were finally bared to those blue eyes, she felt a flush of heat that shamed her. Quickly she reached to tuck her gown about her bottom in an effort to preserve her modesty and give herself a moment to calm the beating of her heart.
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