Lover's Knot

by Louise Clark

  Alysa noticed that Philip was careful to keep away from the opening so that a casual glance would not reveal who was inside.

  The innkeeper put the tray onto the chest and looked around the room rather dolefully. “Is there anything else you’d be wanting, sir?”

  “No,” Philip said. “That will be all for the evening.”

  The man nodded and began to back out of the room. “Very good, sir. There’s a bell by the bed if you change your mind. Good night.”

  “Good night.” Philip closed the door behind him with a snap. He looked at Alysa. “Shall we dine, madam? Such as it is?”

  Alysa laughed. “It seems we do not have much choice, sir.”

  They made no effort to rush the meal, even though the food was not the best. As they ate they talked, not of Prudence, who had not been in any of the rooms Alysa had checked, but of themselves—their beliefs, their hopes, what they wished for England in the future. In this way they passed a pleasant hour while outside the evening darkened into night.

  At last, when the bottle of poor claret had been finished off and the last of the stew and coarse bread had been consumed, Philip said reluctantly, “I’ll check the taproom and see if Ingram or Osborne is there. If not, I’ll seek out my coachman and pretend to berate him about his poor directional skills. At the same time I’ll see if Ingram’s horse is still in the stables.”

  Alysa nodded, but as she watched him head out the door, she said softly, “Be careful, Philip.” She wasn’t sure whether he heard her or not.

  An agony of waiting later, he returned, his expression grim. “Both Ingram and Osborne are in the taproom and look to be making a night of it. We will not be able to leave as we had planned.”

  Looking at the practical side, Alysa said, “With them both downstairs we will at least be able to check the rest of the inn. Let’s do that now, Philip, while we know they are otherwise involved.”

  Philip nodded. If they found Prudence they would then have to create a new plan of escape. If they did not—well, they would work out that problem as it became necessary.

  It was a simple matter to finish checking the rooms on the second floor. None housed Prudence, nor was there evidence that she had ever been held here. Except in Osborne’s bedchamber. There, on the floor by the bed, Alysa found a ribbon that she swore belonged to Prudence. Her mind instantly wondered why the hair ribbon would be here, in this particular spot, and her concern for her sister’s well-being intensified. But there could be no doubt that Prudence was not in any of the guest rooms of the inn.

  By the end of the search, Alysa was desperate. Back in their chamber, she whispered, “Philip, she was here! Where could they have taken her?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied grimly. He was beginning to wonder if Prudence was even alive, but he could not say such a thing to Alysa. She was already frightened enough.

  Suddenly, her eyes brightened. “Philip, we haven’t checked the other rooms downstairs—the kitchens and the innkeeper’s private chambers. Perhaps she is there!”

  Philip was loath to extinguish the hope in her eyes, so he said cautiously, “It is possible, but I cannot think of a way to search the back rooms of the inn without arousing suspicion.”

  “I can!” Laughter sparkled in Alysa’s eyes. “I shall go down the back stairs looking for the innkeeper’s wife. When I find her I shall plead a headache and demand a tisane of some sort to cure it. With any luck, the poor woman will not be where I first look for her, so I will be able to poke around at my leisure.”

  “That will still not get us a look into the cellars,” Philip pointed out. He added reasonably, “And that is the most likely place for them to hide Prudence, if the landlord is involved in her abduction.”

  “That is where you come in.” Alysa laughed and came to stand beside him. Her vivid blue eyes gazed up into his dark ones, mesmerizing him. Lightly she touched his shoulder. “After I have returned with my tisane, you must go down to the kitchen and demand a decent bottle of brandy from the landlord. Tell him in your most obnoxious manner that you want to see his cellars. I am sure that, if you press hard enough, he will show them to you.”

  “And if he refuses we can be pretty certain that Prudence is being held down there.” Philip looked approvingly at Alysa. Her mouth was only inches from his and the words of praise he’d intended to say were lost as instinct overcame good intentions and he bent to kiss her.

  His mouth touched hers, tentatively at first, then more firmly when she didn’t pull away. Alysa made a soft sound of pleasure and her eyes drifted shut even as her trembling lips opened under his, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Philip slipped his hands around her waist, gently drawing her against him, letting her feel the proof of his desire.

  Feelings Alysa had only experienced with Philip began to intensify as their tongues met and mated in a slow dance as ancient as time. She was beyond thought, beyond fear, for she had long since surrendered herself to Philip’s keeping. His kiss was making her body clamor for something more, even as it filled her with a tremendous lethargy. She melted against him, wanting the kiss to never end.

  Shakily, Philip pulled away. For a moment he rested his forehead against hers. “We had best find out what we can and make a plan to escape—tonight.”

  Blushing, Alysa agreed in a whisper. She looked up at him. “Philip?”

  He put his finger over her lips. “No, Alysa. Not here. Not like this. I had thought, when this was all over, to speak to your father, but until then—” He drew a deep breath. “Go, and be careful.”

  Alysa slipped down the back stairs and was able to check the pantry and the kitchens, before she found the innkeeper’s wife in her private room. Alysa’s quick search told her that Prudence was not there, for these were active, busy places used constantly by servants. She got her tea and crept back up the stairs. It was up to Philip now.

  He waited a long, difficult half hour before he tromped down the back stairs on his own quest. He found the landlord easily enough and was able to convince the man to show him the cellars without relying too much on the high-handed theatrics expected of a Cavalier gentleman. The cellars were much as Philip expected them to be—dark, dank and full of articles of all shapes and sizes. The candle the landlord carried made frightening shadows on the walls, distorting the shapes of the goods stored in the oppressive dungeon. Many areas were left in gloom, but Philip doubted that Prudence was being held down there. There was no sound of movement, no muffled or muted cries from someone desperate to escape. There was only silence, broken by the innkeeper’s harried description of his meager horde of wine and the clump of their boots on the earthen floor. The poor man did not even protest when Philip grabbed the candle away from him on the pretense of getting a better look at the bottles of wine.

  No, Prudence was not in the inn. At least not now.

  Then where was she?

  Philip couldn’t answer that. He still believed that Ingram would not be foolish enough to try to hide her on his own grounds. Nor would Sir Edgar Osborne be willing to stash her away in a place where he had no control of such a prize.

  After scorning the innkeeper’s selection of wine, Philip angrily stomped up the narrow stairs, then left the inn through the back door, saying that he was going to check to be sure his coachman had seen to the horses properly. A short conference with his servant told him that Prudence was not being held in the stables or outbuildings. Hope began to die in Philip. Where could she be?

  He returned to the inn through the main entrance so that he could check the public room before going upstairs. He noted grimly that Ingram and Osborne were still there. Cursing softly, he crept back up the stairs to the little room at the end of the hallway.

  “She is not here,” he reported baldly. The door was closed behind him and he and Alysa were alone in the room once more. Already tiny, it now felt claustrophobic since the kiss.

  Alysa turned away. “What can we do?”

  Unbearably touched by her dismay,
Philip came up behind her. He took her shoulders in his hands and rubbed them comfortingly. “There is nothing we can do, sweet Alysa. Not tonight. Since Ingram and Osborne are still in the taproom, we cannot escape without danger of being caught ourselves. Although I am of no interest to either man, I fear for your safety should Osborne set eyes on you. With both you and Prudence in his clutches he is sure to have Thomas handed over to him. We must stay here tonight and hope that tomorrow we can leave as any normal traveler would.”

  She turned in his arms. “But—”

  He silenced her protest with a kiss. He knew he was not giving her any chance, that he was not acting the gentleman, but he could not help himself. Her scent was heady in his nostrils, her body warm against his. If she pushed him away, he would not force her, but….

  She did not push him away. Instead her hands crept up his body to his shoulders, while her mouth opened and her tongue twined with his.

  He heard a low groan from someone and was surprised that it was he who had made it. Alysa clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. At last he eased the pressure of the kiss.

  “What did you mean,” she asked breathlessly, “when you said you planned to speak to my father?”

  Philip touched her lips with his tongue. “I intended to ask him for your hand in marriage.”

  “Were you going to ask me? Or was my father’s consent enough?” She caressed his chin with tiny, featherlight kisses.

  Philip laughed. “Would you have said no?”

  Yearning was in Alysa’s eyes as she looked up into his. She knew what her father’s answer would be to a marriage between Sir Philip Hampton and his daughter. It would not be the same answer that Alysa’s heart would give. “I would have cried out yes in the loudest voice imaginable. Philip, I am yours. Tonight. Whenever you want me. Take me into the bed we have both been trying to ignore and make me yours. Please.”

  “Are you sure, my love?” His eyes searched her face, seeking the reason for the desperation he read there.

  She smiled. “Yes. I am sure. Tonight, Philip Hampton, in the eyes of those around us we are man and wife.” She laughed softly. “And your wife has the reputation of being a demanding shrew, so tonight you must obey, or I shall make your evening so despicably awful—” She squealed as he lifted her off her feet to carry her over to the bed.

  There he paused once again, a smile in his dark eyes. “If you are sure.”

  “I am. Oh, Philip, I am!”

  He laid her on the bed, then knelt down beside her. The bodice of her magenta gown was cut low. A diaphanous scarf modestly covered her throat and was tucked into the neckline above her breasts. Philip plucked it out, then slowly pulled it away.

  Alysa shivered voluptuously, then smiled as his lips caressed the flesh he had just exposed. His thick hair brushed her skin as he kissed her. Tenderly, Alysa stroked it back. Philip looked up, a question in his eyes. “You tease me unmercifully, sir,” she said huskily.

  “This is only the beginning, sweet Alysa.” His hand traced the edge of the cloth, from her shoulder all the way down to the place where her breasts rose enticingly from the fabric.

  Alysa raised herself on her elbow. “Unlace my bodice, sir, for I cannot do it myself.” She bit her lip, wondering if she was being overly bold.

  His hands fumbled with the laces that bound the bodice closed and as he worked she reached up to caress his cheek. Philip groaned and worked faster.

  At last the laces were undone. Philip slipped the boned garment from her body, then made short work of unfastening her skirt. Alysa rose up to her knees and pushed the bulky material over her hips so that she was dressed only in a loose shift made of a finely woven linen that was so soft and light it was virtually diaphanous. Philip’s eyes narrowed; then he drew her against him and kissed her hard. Alysa responded fiercely, hungry for more.

  After a moment, Philip pulled away, but only to disrobe himself.

  Alysa kicked off the heavy folds of her skirt and watched him with unabashed interest. She wanted Philip and wanted him badly, but the sight of him shedding his clothes with indecent haste created its own kind of pleasure.

  When the last of his garments were gone, he smiled at her intense expression. “Do I pass muster, my lady?”

  Alysa was more awed by his muscular frame than she had expected. She said on a shaky breath, “Philip, I had no idea! Am I as pleasing to you as you are to me?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, coming down beside her on the bed.

  She shivered with fear and excitement. His mouth closed over hers, steadying her, filling her with the promise of gentleness and passion to come. His hands strayed over her body, stroking, caressing, easing the shift from her skin.

  She hardly knew when that last barrier between them disappeared. She was more than ready for whatever was to come. She trusted Philip and was prepared to give herself to him freely. Her body ached for him, and murmuring softly, she urged him closer.

  When he moved atop her, instinct told her that this was what she wanted. She opened her legs to cradle him securely against her and with a little groan he lowered himself upon her.

  His entry was a shock that broke through the heady mists of pleasure that held her in thrall, but she trusted him not to hurt her and he did not. He eased himself deeper inside, gently but insistently, until she was full and he was anchored deep. Then he paused, a thumb teasing her hardened nipple, his mouth dropping nibbling kisses at the edge of her lips. “You are mine now, Alysa Leighton. Say it.”

  “I was yours before, Philip. Yesterday, today and tomorrow.” Her body needed to move. She stirred against him and he gasped.

  “Yes,” he groaned. “Alysa, you are enough to drive a man wild.”

  Her neck arched and her body twisted, obeying instincts as old as time. She felt as if she was climbing a great peak, slowly, tortuously, each moment an ecstasy of its own, but with the promise of something more still to come. It was that unknown thing that kept eluding her, making her writhe beneath her lover.

  She knew what she was seeking when Philip moved within her. A gasp escaped her lips, followed by a little cry of pleasure. As if this was a sign he’d been waiting for, he crushed her mouth beneath his and moved more forcefully inside her.

  Pleasurable sensations ripped through Alysa as she surrendered herself to his direction. Together they reached the top of the peak and slowly they slipped gently down the other side.

  They lay quietly afterward, neither speaking. Philip stroked Alysa’s skin in an absentminded way that she found both endearing and soothing. Gradually, she slipped into sleep.

  Awake, Philip knew that he should not have done as he had. Alysa had been a virgin when he’d taken her, as he’d assumed she would be. A young lady of her class and breeding would be expected to be pure when she went to her legitimate husband’s bed and Alysa was not one to use illusion to cover truth.

  So, knowing that, why had he deliberately taken her tonight?

  Because he loved her. Because she was his. Because she would be ruined in the eyes of the world after spending the night alone with him whether something had happened between them or not.

  When he had conceived this idea of bringing her to the inn to search for her sister he had not stopped to think what might happen if they were unable to leave as intended. He should have. He had planned enough actions to know that the unexpected was far more likely to occur than whatever had been anticipated.

  Yet when the unexpected had happened, he’d taken advantage of it, as any good commander would. After tonight Alysa would be his. Always.

  He had read the doubt in her eyes when he had spoken of asking her father for her hand and he’d guessed that Lord Strathern would probably have refused his suit.

  Not anymore. As little as her father might like it, Alysa had given herself to Philip. Now they must marry.

  It was up to Philip to make certain that when they did Alysa would not be separated from her family as a result of her impetuous ac
tions. He drew her against him so that she was settled more comfortably in the crook of his arm.

  There was one way to do that. He could find Prudence Leighton and ensure that Thomas Leighton was safely away about his business for the king.

  Philip smiled to himself. A momentous task. One he found he was looking forward to.

  He bent and kissed Alysa’s lips again. They fluttered beneath his. Satisfied, he deepened the caress at the same time as he began to tease her breast. She stirred, exciting his manhood.

  Opening her eyes, she said sleepily, “Philip?”

  “Tonight is ours, love,” he said huskily. “Let’s not waste it.”

  Alysa looked at him searchingly for a moment; then she laughed softly. Her answer was to slide her arm around his neck and touch his mouth with the tip of her tongue.

  The promise of passion to come made Philip groan and draw her close. “My lady,” he said, “I am yours.”

  Alysa sighed with pleasure. “And I am yours. Forever.”

  Chapter 17

  Alysa woke to find herself pressed tightly against the length of Philip’s long, hard body. She felt wonderful, in a lazy, exhausted sort of way, and she was content to remain snuggled against him while she contemplated the events of the previous day.

  When she had gone to Philip, she had not intended to give herself to him, either emotionally or physically, yet she had done both. She had ridden to Ainslie Manor angry and frightened over Prudence’s disappearance and certain that Philip knew where Prudence was, or could at least guess her whereabouts. She had not expected that her anger would have as much substance as a puff of smoke in a strong breeze or that she would find herself defending Philip against his criticism of his own actions. Sometime during the last weeks, trust, as well as love, for Philip had crept into her heart, so that when he had suggested that they go to the inn to search for Prudence, she had agreed without so much as a mild objection. Philip would find Prudence. She knew it in her mind, in her soul.

  She still believed it now, even though Prudence had not been at the inn and she had just given herself to a man who was not her husband. No matter what his political background, Philip had promised her that he would not let Prudence come to any harm in the political games that were being played in West Easton. Alysa snuggled closer, listening to the steady beat of his heart and inhaling the heady scent of his body. What Philip promised, Philip would make good on. She had his word and that was enough.