by Jill Hughey
David tipped her chin up and stared at her until her memory of Sewell’s rough handling faded into the safe warm brown of David’s eyes. He kissed her gently. Finally. She sighed and her lips parted beneath his, hungry, seeking. How long had it been since they had been together like this? Days apart did not calm the storm within her. It had waited, just over the horizon, until conditions were right.
She coiled one hand in his cloak and slid the other to the side of his neck, feeling the play of the cords there. He pulled back, a hint of surprise in his eyes, but she strained up against him, asking without words for his kiss. He bent down to accommodate her. Their tongues met and retreated, met again. He trapped her bottom lip in his teeth then suckled away the insult.
Heat rose between them. Rochelle felt as if waves of it were coming through her and off her. But rather than driving her back, it drew her in. She wanted more, wondering in the back of her muddled mind if there was ever enough heat to burn away this building storm.
With the thought, she instinctively rose on tiptoe and pressed herself more intimately against him. He groaned in his throat as her belly rubbed against his loins. His hands slid down to her hips and fitted her just there, where he could press against her with the suggestion of a true coupling, his tongue silkenly laving her mouth until she lifted her other arm to cling around his neck. She pulled on him, wanting more pressure, more of everything. More.
He pulled back again, this time with an unholy flame in his eyes. “I want you,” he said simply, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to know everything about you. I want to learn every inch of your skin.”
She could only stare back at him. That place within her that only David could awaken throbbed with a new intensity, beckoning for something, but she knew not what. She sensed, though, that a trip too far down the path was one from which she could not return. “I do not know what I want,” she whispered in torment.
His sigh was ragged. He kissed her forehead and backed away, turning to look at the glistening water of the river, carefully clasping his hands behind his back.
She didn’t like it. She felt that she had failed him somehow, and she missed the solidity of his body against hers. A soft breeze ruffled his hair and she longed to smooth it.
“It is a pretty spot,” he observed after a moment, as though nothing were amiss. “Did you say something about lunch?”
Rochelle retrieved the bag from her saddle and spread a small cloth over the pebbles of the little beach. They sat across from one another, tearing bread from the same loaf, cutting bits of cheese and apple, drinking water from the same skin. David had never shared a private meal with a woman he desired. He found the experience almost overwhelmingly erotic.
She smiled at him, apparently unaware of his sustained arousal, then yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered playfully.
“Of course,” he intoned with equal secretiveness.
“Sometimes, when I am here alone,” she said, leaning forward, “I take a short nap.”
He chuckled. “You are probably tired after last night.”
“And you,” she said. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Some.”
Her brows came together. “You must be careful to get your rest. Fatigue might bring on a headache.”
His heart swelled at her concern. “Are you suggesting we should rest now?”
“I will admit that I could.”
“Then we shall,” he said.
She packed up the remnants of the meal and balled her cloak up as a pillow. She laid down flat on her back, her fingers folded over her stomach.
He laughed. “Can you actually sleep like that, on stones?”
She opened one eye to peer up at him, shading her face with a raised hand. “For a short time.” She snapped her lid closed again.
“You should join the army, “ he grumbled. But he rested back himself, hands at his sides, with no pillow and no intention of sleeping. He attuned his senses to his surroundings, hearing each sound and touch of air on his face. As he drifted off, he thought, so this is what it is like to sleep next to Rochelle.
It was mostly the chill in the air that wakened them. Hours had passed, the sun was drifting down below the tree line. Neither had moved, though Rochelle slept much more deeply than David. Years of camp life and sleeping in different places kept his own slumber light and alert. Therefore, he knew immediately when she awoke and pulled himself back to consciousness at the same moment.
She involuntarily brushed his hand with her own then uttered a surprised, “Oh.” After sitting up and checking the sky, she shook her head to clear it of cobwebs. “I have never napped for so long.”
David wiped a hand over his face. “I have never napped at all. We should probably head for home.”
Rochelle scowled. “I did not get half the things accomplished today I should have. I really cannot believe we wasted the entire afternoon sleeping!”
“Obviously we were both tired,” he said simply.
The excuse did not satisfy her. “Luckily we have very trustworthy horses,” she observed as she clasped her cloak. Denes and Woden grazed within sight, their reins dragging through the dry autumn grass.
David tied the sack from lunch onto Woden then lifted Rochelle onto Denes’s back. She was all business, quickly arranging her clothes and starting Denes toward home the second David had mounted.
She set a fast but comfortable pace, gradually easing Denes into a gentle gallop. The horses both warmed to the run, though David held Woden safely back and to the side. She looked over her shoulder several times to make sure he was still with her, but kept moving too fast for conversation.
After dinner David left the hall with Rochelle for her evening rounds. He had watched her carefully every second after she finished eating, and had risen the moment she made for the door. She hadn’t tried to dissuade him. She hadn’t wanted to, really. As the time had approached to leave, unease crept over her. She squashed her nerves, recognizing how ridiculous it was to worry about walking outside her own house. Yet the memory of men grabbing her from behind, dragging her, muffling her uncontrollable screams swept over her in a quick torrent as she stepped through the front door into the deepening dusk. No one would try to abduct her tonight. In her mind, she knew this. But, the unbidden thought niggled in: if anyone did try, David would stop them.
It irked her, this needing and wanting of him. She couldn’t take her evening walk without feeling better that he was with her. She’d wasted her entire afternoon kissing and napping by the river. Something about him made her lose sight of her reason and her responsibilities. She could see only him. She didn’t really want to make sure the tenants were ready for winter. She wanted only him. His comfort. His kisses. His…God help her she was doing it again. She was supposed to be checking the buildings for the night, yet that strange feeling was trickling into her pelvis again.
She glanced at him. The setting sun made his brown hair glow around his face. He looked down at her and she could not help but stare at his mouth, the lips that could drive her to forget everything else about her life.
She jerked her head to face forward again, concentrating on the storage building. As much as she longed for kissing again, she knew she was in danger. Such a man, with such a talent for it, would be just the type for a silly girl to fall in love with and marry. She had been telling herself before dinner how lucky she was to be a levelheaded young woman, immune to fanciful ideas about love and marriage. If she pointedly kept her body away from his, she could certainly return to the thorough, driven, motivated person she knew herself to be.
She lengthened her stride to reach the storage door well ahead of him, determined to perform one simple task without thinking about him.
As she shoved the door open, a burst of sound erupted behind it followed by a simultaneous streak of motion and sensation at her feet. She shrieked and leaped back, slamming into David who pushed h
er behind him with one hand while drawing his spata with the other.
They both stared, panting, at the cat which, freed from the storage building, stopped at the corner of the stable to watch them, tail twitching toward the first stars in the sky.
Rochelle shoved herself away from her guardian who was still tensed with his blade forward. She paced away, angry at herself and circumstances and his unending calm in every situation. The cat arched as she approached. She hissed at it viciously, taking little satisfaction in its hasty retreat around the back of the stable.
“Fire and smoke,” David muttered behind her. “I have never drawn my blade at a barncat before.”
She whirled. “How do you think I feel? If you were not here, I would be laughing at myself, but now I look like an idiot.”
He blinked. “You are not an idiot.”
“I know I am not. I do not need you to tell me that!”
She slammed the door shut before she stalked to the stable, not really wanting to see his reaction. She flung that door open. Denes and Woden shifted in their stalls at her abrupt entrance. After a quick glance around, she backed up, right into the tower of David in the doorway.
She spun away to glare at him from the darkness of the stable. “Would you stop shadowing me so closely?” she growled.
He held his hands out to his sides. “What is going on?”
“I will tell you what is going on! You are using every opportunity to convince me I need your beknighted protection, that is what!”
“Opportunity! I do not view having my heart in my throat as an opportunity!”
“Well, it is certainly advantageous to your cause.”
“And what cause would that be?”
“That I need a husband to defend me against a dangerous world.”
“And cats.”
“Yes, how convenient for you.”
His lips quirked in a smile he tried to hide. “You think I closed a cat in your storeroom to prove you need me?”
Her eyes slid away from his to the corner of the stable and she crossed her arms peevishly. “No. But I never used to shriek or need an escort on my own estate.”
“It is natural to be nervous after what happened last night.”
“I do not have to like it.” She turned to Denes, stroking his soft nose for solace.
“Are you afraid now, with me here with you?”
“No, and I do not have to like that either.”
David said nothing for a long time, but she felt his eyes on her back, even through the nearly complete darkness. When his voice came, it was harsh. “We keep having the same circular conversation, Rochelle. You say you do not want to lose your independence, I say you will not. I say I want to marry you, you say you will not. Last night you wanted my comfort, today we took a nap together, but tonight you want nothing to do with me. You bring me to my knees with desire then push me away, and we start all over. It is getting tiresome.”
She closed her eyes, hating to see the truth in what he said. “I know,” she agreed wearily. “I am tired of it too, believe me. Just because everything is clear as spring water to you doesn’t mean it is to me. I cannot think clearly. I cannot focus on my work. I screamed like a child at a cat, for heaven’s sake. You have stolen my wits and I do not like it.”
“You sound just like you did after the bandits. You promised when we were traveling you would think about marriage to me. But you are not thinking about it, you are still just fighting it.”
“I do think about it,” she whispered.
“Think harder,” he said harshly.
She turned on him. “I do not know what I am doing half the time, do you understand that? I have never done this before. No one ever noticed me or Alda. No man ever wanted to marry me. I have never been kissed or touched or even looked at by a man.” She waved at the air between them. “I never knew any of this needfulness existed until Louis the Pious put me in your path.” She bit her bottom lip, instantly regretting all she had revealed.
He leapt on it. “Needfulness?” He toyed with the word, obviously liking that she had said it. “You feel needful?”
Her miserable expression answered him.
“Then we are even on that score.”
“We are not even. You know exactly what you want — me! — and you are using all manner of guilt and coercion to get me.”
“How am I coercing you?”
“All this kissing and touching! You know exactly what you are doing. I will wager I am not the first girl you have dallied in a stable with.” The thought brought a stab of pain she could only identify as jealousy and that just made her madder.
“I will not wager on or even discuss who came before. As to whom will be the last girl I visit a stable with, now that is a bet I would be willing to take. I intend for it to be you and I intend to use every weapon at hand to win the right.” He took a step toward her. She threw her hand up to stop him.
“No kissing.”
“Why?”
“Because you do not like it when we must stop.”
David shook his head. “No, I do not. I feel I am being led on a merry chase. While I know where it will end, only you know when. That is the blade I ride the edge of.”
“There is the guilt. I cannot lead you on a chase if I do not know where I am going. And I do not, David.”
He studied her, his eyes barely visible in the deep shadows of the stable. “Fair enough. I ride a blade of my own making,” he finally admitted. “I would still rather kiss you than not,” he said gruffly as he held his hand out to her.
She stared at it, wanting to touch him so badly it was like needing to breathe. Oh yes, she, the levelheaded mistress of Alda, was in great danger from this man. “I do not think that is a good idea,” she whispered. She slipped past him out the door.
Chapter Sixteen
A drenching rain began during the night and continued into the next day. David acted entirely normal at breakfast when Rochelle assured him she had no intention of riding on Alda today. She retreated to the office to catch up on her bookkeeping but she let the door open so she could listen to the conversation of the three men as they relaxed in the hall. It was such an unfamiliar thing to hear male camaraderie in her home. They talked of shared experiences long past and teased each other mercilessly while cleaning their saddles and sharpening their weapons. Rochelle smiled at her ledger more than once.
They included her in the fun at the midday meal, telling increasingly unbelievable tales of their prowess on the battlefield until she was laughing so hard she could not eat. “Please, no more,” she begged.
Marian wiped her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. “Ye three are a motley set of soldiers if I have seen them.”
David, Theo and Doeg laughed together. For the first time, Rochelle could understand David’s loyalty to his brother and Theo’s continued kinship with him as well. Doeg was a different person, sitting here relaxed at her fire. His jokes were funny, but never malicious or cruel. His blue eyes sparkled with mirth until he noticed Rochelle studying him, then they frosted over and he sat up so stiffly in his chair that Theo asked him where he’d found the iron rod in his back.
Rochelle returned to the office but accomplished little as she juxtaposed these two halves of David’s brother, and even more vigorously forgetting her argument with David last night. What a distraction these Bavarians were!
A knock at the front door further interrupted her work. She walked into the hall to see who would visit on such a dreary day. David opened the door to a man she did not recognize. The visitor was invited to the fire. He declined. He asked specifically for Theo, spoke with him quietly for a moment, then handed him a leather pouch that clinked with coins. Theo asked several questions and, seemingly satisfied with the answers he received, discharged him.
Theo turned to them, his grim expression breaking the happy mood of the day. He carried the pouch to Marian at the table. “Twenty-four sous,” he said as he placed it in her hand. “Your daughter
was wronged and as the parent, you collect the fine.”
She looked at it like a snake had coiled in her palm, then dropped it to the tabletop with a jangle. “And what of those two miscreants?” she asked worriedly. “Their dirty money does not keep them away from Rochelle.”
“They have been taken in hand by some family elders. Besides, Fardulf’s leg has become infected. He may or may not survive it.”
Rochelle’s hand flew to her throat, horrified that the wound she inflicted might cause the young man to die.
Theo continued. “Sewell is healing but he is no threat, especially if David and Rochelle marry. No one will bother her once they are married.”
All eyes turned to her, full of expectation, believing that her marriage would solve everything. She looked at each of them in turn, her mother’s bright green eyes, Doeg’s now sarcastic blue, Theo’s expectant hazel, and finally settling on the steady brown gaze of her betrothed who still stood near the front door. Last night’s argument had not been mentioned. In fact, it had evaporated with the merriment of the day. Now it loomed between them.
Do not ask it of me, she pleaded in her mind. Not here, not in front of all these people.
“That is a private matter,” he said succinctly. “This discussion of the attempted abduction has reminded me of something.” He strolled toward the fire. “Doeg,” he said, effectively transferring everyone’s attention to his brother, “I wanted to ask you about your whereabouts that night.”
Rochelle carefully blanked her expression. From the corner of her eye, she saw Theo listening as attentively as she.
“What would you like to know, dear brother?” Doeg asked as he crossed his ankles in front of him, the picture of a relaxed gentleman.
“I remember that when Rochelle was going outside, you went to the kitchen.”
“To the latrine, to be precise.”
“You were actually outside the house? Even better,” David said. “Did you see anyone? Or hear anything? The gate must have been closed during the time you were out back.”
