Unbidden (The Evolution Series)

by Jill Hughey

  Doeg shook his head slowly, as if considering the question. “I do not remember anything out of the ordinary.”

  “The interior kitchen door was closed. Did you close it?”

  “Why would I close it?” he shrugged. “One of the servants must have done.”

  “I cannot make sense of that. I have not seen it shut at any other time.” David paced, deep in thought. “It is as if someone deliberately closed Magnus in the kitchen.” He turned to Marian. “Did you have anyone unusual helping in the kitchen or house that night?”

  As Marian replied, Rochelle glanced over at Theo who rolled his eyes dramatically at her. She shook her head in shared disappointment. When she looked back at David, he was watching her. His eyes narrowed, then slid to Theo who stared unabashedly back at him.

  “I will question the servants,” David announced as he marched toward the kitchen.

  Rochelle opened her mouth to protest then snapped it closed. If he wished to interview Gilbert, Ruthie and the cook, so be it. She returned to her ledgers, the figuring of the wheat yields finally absorbing her thoughts after a quarter hour or so.

  David again accompanied her on her evening walk. They had not even cleared the gate when David blurted, “What was that look you and Theo shared today?”

  “When?” she replied evasively.

  “Do not feign innocence with me. You and Theo definitely looked at each other and I want to know what it was about.”

  “Why does it have to be about anything?” she asked defensively, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation about Doeg.

  “So, you admit to a lingering look, but you expect me to believe there was no meaning behind it?”

  Rochelle laughed uncomfortably, trying to dismiss the idea. “It was not lingering. It was merely an acknowledgement of shared frustration. Let us just leave it at that.” She walked for a few steps before realizing David no longer walked beside her.

  Turning, she saw him a few paces back, his expression thunderous. “Did you just say shared frustration? What in the name of all that is holy do the two of you have to be frustrated about?”

  “It is just something he and I discussed at breakfast the other day.” Rochelle was trying diligently to avoid another argument, but felt her own irritation beginning to rise.

  “Oh yes, breakfast, when you were gazing and smiling across the table at each other? What did you talk about at breakfast?”

  “I do not owe you a description of every conversation I ever hold!”

  “I am not asking about every conversation. You are practically my wife. You should not be sharing looks of frustration with other men, especially ones you cannot explain to me.”

  Rochelle tilted her chin up. “I am not your wife.”

  “And if you were Theo’s wife, would you tell him about your shared frustration?”

  As inexperienced as she was, incredulous understanding dawned. “You are jealous.”

  “Of course I am jealous. I have been purposely attentive and companionable and damned seductive. Yet you have gone cold on me and started making moon eyes at my best friend!”

  Rochelle cocked her head to one side then walked back to stand two steps away from him. She studied his face, finding the unloved boy lurking in his eyes, and seeking her reassurance. “Theo and I did not make moon eyes. We are in agreement about something that came up this afternoon. It has nothing to do with,” she waved her hand around dismissively, ”with man and woman things. It is just a shared opinion that you do not want to hear.”

  He began to protest, then stopped to rub his chin thoughtfully, his fingers making a delightful rasping sound on the stubble of his beard. “I think I see where this is going. Theo has been filling your head with nonsense about Doeg.”

  “Actually, I became suspicious of your brother on my own and am the one who approached Theo with my questions.”

  “You went to him with your concern instead of me?”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” she exclaimed in exasperation. “Of course I did. You made it quite clear that you will hear no criticism of your precious brother.”

  “I trust Doeg implicitly and I expect the same from you.”

  Whatever softening she felt a few moments before disappeared. “That is an impossible and irrational request. First of all, because you have no right to make such a demand, and secondly, because I can think for myself. I can make my own observations and come to logical conclusions that are completely obvious to anyone not blinded by family loyalty!”

  “I am not blinded. Even if you do not trust Doeg, I expect you to trust me, to have some faith in my judgment.”

  “Yet you will not reciprocate that honor.”

  “What makes you say that?” he retorted as he flung his arms out, palms toward the sky.

  Rochelle poked her finger into his chest. “I told you that I trust my servants. I may not have used the word implicitly but I think it was understood. And yet, whom did you spend the afternoon questioning? Ruthie, who was born at Alda, Gilbert, who has been in my family’s service for decades, and the cook, who is so afraid of being outside alone at after dark she sleeps in the cooking alcove all winter instead of her own house. The only unusual, unknown, and potentially untrustworthy people in my house that night were you, Theo, and Doeg!” She saw his brown eyes already hardening against her and bit her tongue on the list of accusations she wanted to level at Doeg. “Do not lecture me on whom I should trust within my own household, especially when you will not listen to me about who I do not trust.”

  David gripped her hand to stop it from prodding him, then closed the distance between them by half. “First of all, milady, I think that you are lecturing me. Secondly, I do not suspect your servants of anything,” he said as he pressed her knuckles to his lips.

  “But you also do not suspect Doeg,” she sighed.

  “Doeg would not do anything against me.”

  “It was not you who was almost dragged off into the night,” she said grumpily.

  “What I mean is that Doeg knows a plot against you is a plot against me.” He turned her hand over to kiss her palm, sending unwelcome prickles of pleasure up her arm. “Besides, why would Doeg want to see you abducted?”

  Rochelle weighed her options, and quickly decided to share what Theo suspected. She pulled her hand away and backed up a step. “Because he does not want you to marry me,” she said simply.

  David crossed his arms over his chest, clearly expecting more details.

  “He does not want you to have this estate.”

  “That is ridiculous.”

  Now Rochelle crossed her arms expectantly.

  David huffed out a beleaguered sigh. “Our marriage is advantageous for Doeg. My father’s estate is not wealthy enough to divide. Doeg’s life is materially improved if I do not require a portion of the land.”

  Rochelle chewed her lip. “But what if he thinks Alda is better than your father’s estate.”

  A twinge of vexation narrowed David’s eyes. “Rochelle. Alda is a fine property but Doeg’s house is just as big as yours.”

  Rochelle shook her head in frustration. “You are twisting my words to make me sound like an egotist.”

  He reached for and lifted her hand again. He kissed the tip of each finger. “I like you. He knows I like you. So I say again, he would not do anything to you, knowing how I feel about you and that I plan to marry you.”

  Rochelle sighed. Why did it touch her heart to hear that he liked her? Because it rang with honesty. Because she liked him too, against her own better judgment. There was no reasoning with the man. And her ability to reason at all was being seriously hindered by his attention to her hand, and now the soft skin of her wrist.

  “I do not trust him, David. And I have had to judge enough men in my life to know that he despises me.”

  He at least had the decency to stop brushing his lips over her wrist to speak directly to her. “I believe you are a good judge of people, but just as you have known your servan
ts for years, so I have known Doeg. While he can be abrasive and cold, he is incapable of inflicting true harm on an innocent woman, especially one I consider to be under my protection.” He paused for a moment then asked, “If I acknowledge that you were right about your servants, then might you acknowledge that I know my own brother better than you, and even better than Theo?”

  Rochelle turned her head to gaze at the horizon. The last glow of the sunset stained the overcast sky a strange greenish-gray. “I do not trust him,” she repeated regretfully.

  He nodded with equal regret. “Acknowledged. The real question is do you trust me?”

  Her pulse sped as she looked at him again. “Yes,” she said simply.

  The reward of his wide smile nearly made her forget everything: the fear of losing her independence, her distrust of Doeg, her reluctance to marry. She had made him happy which for some stupid reason made her happy.

  His eyes were full of devilment as he kissed her wrist again then looked at her over their joined fingers. “Now, do we not have a stable to secure for the night?” he asked,

  She smiled. She was not proof against his happiness or his physical overtures. She did trust him. She liked him. She could hardly manage the constant desire to touch him or be touched by him. All those realities had slowly become more important than her dislike of his brother.

  She led him to the stables where, once again, David placed his hands at her waist. She did not turn to him, instead leaning back to pillow her head on his chest. He nuzzled her cheek, his whiskers lightly scratching her skin, then he set his lips there. Her eyes fluttered closed as she drank in the masculine smell of him, the solidity of his body braced behind her. She turned her head, seeking his mouth with hers. He teased her, brushing her lips lightly then barely nibbling at the corner of her mouth.

  He soon found the joke was on him. As she strained for a real kiss, she arched slightly, bringing her bottom into exquisite contact with his upper thighs and pushing her breasts out against her tunic. He moaned as he captured her lips, trying to ignore the womanly gifts lying before him. He had kept his sanity during their other carnal encounters by keeping his hands firmly in one place.

  As if reading his thoughts, her hands came to rest on his, her fingers twining between his own, squeezing hard and harder as their kiss deepened. She whimpered and tore one hand away to place it on his cheek, again changing the posture of her body and unknowingly offering him a beautiful feminine line from breast to hip.

  It was an invitation he did not possess the restraint to ignore. His palm slid firmly up her ribs to settle on the soft roundness of her breast. It fit his hand so perfectly that he had to pull away from the kiss, wanting a moment to concentrate on her breast completely. He opened his eyes. Even though she was fully clothed, the sight of his own hand so intimately against her breast sent his desire to another, roiling level. He let his fingers and thumb move, learning the curve of her, finding the indentation of her cleavage and the barely discernable hardness of her aroused nipple.

  Rochelle gasped, and he saw she was watching his hand too. Her lips were parted as she pressed herself against his palm. He moved his other hand, not releasing her fingers as he torturously skimmed up her side to her other breast, her own fingers sharing his gentle caresses and squeezes. She bit her lip against the overwhelming combination of touch and sight.

  She sagged against him, but hesitated to move for fear of dislodging his hands. He made the decision for her, gently turning her and quickly replacing one hand on her breast while beginning to kiss her anew. His other hand roamed along her gently muscled back, down to the curve of her bottom. The ridge of his manhood pressed distinctly against her belly. Surely she could not feel it pulsing with desire through all these layers of clothes. Yet it seemed to echo the very distinct throbbing betwixt her own thighs.

  He backed up against a post and pulled her in between his slightly outstretched legs. Quickly unclasping her cloak he dropped his lips to her neck, kissing and sucking along the front and down to the slight indentation at the base. She clung to his tunic until she could no longer resist exploring him as he did her. She flattened her hands on his chest, slipped them up to his shoulders then along and behind his neck. He kissed her deeply, moaning softly when she rose to her tiptoes to fit herself to him. He pulled back. Time stopped as they gazed into one another’s eyes with new physical awareness. “Rochelle,” he breathed. “My God, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.” The words embarrassed and encouraged her. She smiled shyly as she loosened her arms from around his neck. She tested his lips lightly. He tempered his response, allowing her to tease him with her mouth while tentatively sliding her hands over his chest. His breath hissed through his teeth when she explored the flat plane of his stomach.

  He growled to her and whispered encouragement and told her how much he liked what they were doing to each other. His hands became more urgent, touching her not just for discovery but with purpose.

  The new urges he excited nearly overwhelmed her. She wanted to bare her breasts for him, and rip his own tunic off his chest. She wanted to lay down with him, to feel him loom over her as he had in the hailstorm. Her legs wanted to be spread, and she hoped to God, somewhere in all that sinfulness, this pounding desire would be assuaged.

  They shifted position slightly to deepen their kissing, and she found herself slightly astride his thigh. It felt quite natural to press her hips against him. She pressed down again and her eyelids fluttered with the pleasure of it. More.

  After a few more pleasing flexes, she noticed David’s hands were no longer moving. His lips were no longer on her neck. She pulled back to look at him. He watched her intently, his face taut, a feral gleam in his eyes.

  She realized the absolute depravity of her actions and tried to back away from him. He held her fast. Her face flushed with shame. “I am sorry. That was wrong to do,” she choked out.

  “Not wrong,” he said thickly. “Anything and everything between us is right, Rochelle. I want to pleasure you. I want to show you where this path leads. When we come together, our bodies will move just as yours did, but as one. Say you will be my wife. We can be married tomorrow and I will make love to you and you will know just how perfect we can be together.”

  Her eyes widened but she stood mute.

  “I know you want me,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. “And God knows I want you. Say yes, Rochelle. We are so good together. Not just like this. In every way. We understand each other. We talk. We trust each other.”

  Rochelle drew a shuddering breath. “I do want you –” she began cautiously.

  “I know, I know,” he rushed, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her chin. “Say yes, say you will marry me tomorrow.”

  “I trust you with my life. I trust you in this…this physical attraction. I know I can talk to you about anything. But I will not trust you to think for me, to give up my own ability to decide for myself.”

  “I am not asking you to,” he said with a smile.

  “Yes, you are. You did tonight. You want my faith to lie where yours does, my loyalties to shadow yours, just because you say so. And you do not even recognize you are making the demand.”

  He pulled his head back, realizing he was moving backward from his goal again. “I do not think this difference of opinion about my brother will ruin our marriage. He will, after all, be living in Bavaria.”

  “When is he moving back there?” Rochelle shot out quickly.

  David’s hands were still holding her. He wiggled her hips against him suggestively. “I would anticipate his departure shortly after our wedding.”

  Rochelle narrowed her eyes. “I could never marry a man who would stoop to blackmail.”

  “You are killing me, Rochelle,” he murmured as he leaned his head back against the post, closing his eyes. “Absolutely killing me.”

  She stepped back from him.

  “Answer one question for me,” he asked, “And tell me the truth.”

&
nbsp; “I will try.”

  “Did you lie in your bed last night thinking about my touch and wishing you could be with me? Wishing you had let me touch you?”

  Rochelle turned her head to one side. How could she answer such an outrageous question? “This is madness.”

  “And will you lie awake tonight, wondering where all of this kissing and touching leads? Will you wonder how all of our shared frustration can be resolved?” He waited for a moment then snapped, “Answer me.”

  “Yes, I will wonder.”

  He raked his hands through his hair. “I will give you a few more days, Rochelle. Not weeks, not months. Days.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rochelle and David returned to the hall to find Theo pacing in circles, cursing a streak vivid even for him, a piece of parchment waving in his hand. Doeg sat in a chair, deep in thought, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. Marian waited behind him wringing her hands.

  Theo stopped cold as David and Rochelle approached. “There is a complication,” he said.

  “A complication in what?”

  “Your betrothal. Your marriage.”

  Rochelle felt her hopes rise and her stomach sink at the same time. Being free of the betrothal would be heavenly. And yet, if she were not required to marry David, he might leave. She would probably never see him again, an idea that filled her with panic.

  “Spit it out,” David growled, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

  “Louis’s son Lothair is arguing against the betrothal.”

  “I thought Lothair had been exiled.”

  “He has not left the country yet. He believes the local people should be trusted to defend Alamannia, and therefore a man from Francia should have control of Alda. Or,” Theo added meaningfully, “at least a chance at it.”

  “Define chance,” David ordered.

  “Louis has agreed to tournament.”

  “What kind of tournament?” David’s voice was so low Rochelle strained to hear him.