He’d been confused by how she treated him with care, stroking his cheeks and brow. This was not what someone was supposed to do when they wanted to kill you. Then he came to the realization that she was trying to make him feel comfortable, so that he would trust her, do anything she wanted. Then she would strike.
She was very conniving. He’d witnessed that first hand with the lousy blanket trick.
Whoever had sent her to do him in had taught her well. She had waited until the perfect opportunity to pounce on him.
He’d drank the herbs that she gave him, fully intent on spitting them out, but whatever was in them made him sleep. When he later awoke he had felt much better.
Yet again his feelings of confusion returned, it seemed that mayhap he was wrong and she was trying to help him to get better?
But it couldn’t be.
Maybe she had tried to kill him, and then thought that it wasn’t a good way for a fierce warrior to die. Maybe she thought he needed a more worthy death. The more he assessed her actions, the more absurd his conclusions became.
The thought did enter his mind that she was just a kind woman who wanted to help him. He shook his head. No, that couldn’t be it. It wasn’t possible.
Then she slipped. Admitted that her life would be better without him, that she wished he had died, but she helped him anyway. Why? Did she feel guilty that she would be killing the man she was supposed to marry?
He had to get to the bottom of this. Throwing back the covers he slept under for nearly four days, Alexander gagged when he inhaled his own stench. He needed a bath.
Bathing would have to wait. Perhaps he could use his stench to his advantage. She would most probably be more willing to answer his questions if he threatened to make her smell him at close proximity. He chuckled at his thoughts.
He threw his legs over the side of the bed and began to stand. Then he was jolted to reality when his legs, so weak from lying prone, nearly buckled under his weight. Sitting back on the bed, he turned when a knock resounded on the door.
So she’s come back.
“Enter,” he said loudly, proud of the strength in his voice even if his body refused to cooperate.
The door opened and a train of servants entered, carrying a tray of food, a jug of ale, a tub and buckets of steaming water.
No Chloe.
Harold stood in the entrance and Alexander motioned him to come forward.
“What’s all this?” he asked, ignoring the fact that his stomach growled loudly when he caught the scent of the food and that he longed to get into the warm bath and wash the stench of sickness away.
“Miss Chloe ordered it for you,” Harold said in his usual monotone.
“Hmm. Where is Chloe?” He tried not to sound too interested.
“Resting. She worked hard these last few days, and I felt she deserved a little retreat.” Harold had taken the liberty of dismissing her on Alexander’s behalf. The stubborn man, stared straight ahead, his expression devoid of any emotion.
Alexander had always admired Harold’s ability to make decisions for him when he was away, and even sometimes when he was indisposed, but lately he was beginning to despise Harold and his ability to handle situations without consulting him. First the satchel and now dismissing her for a break. It was almost as if he were protecting the little wench.
“Harold, in future, when decisions are being made concerning Chloe, I must be informed prior to said decisions being acted upon.” He glared at Harold’s profile.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Now if you will, go and get her. Wake her if you must.” Alexander demanded.
“I’m afraid Miss Chloe is indisposed at the moment, my lord,” Harold said, a glint of humor on the man’s face.
“Indisposed?” Alexander asked, perplexed. What the hell did that mean?
“Yes, my lord,” Harold replied, not expounding further.
“Care to explain, Harold?” Alexander asked trying to control his growing irritation.
“She was in need of…a bath, my lord.”
Alexander watched as his servant made hard work out of keeping his lips in a thin firm line.
“I see.” All he could think of was what she looked like in that bath, and how he wished he could join her.
“Leave me.” If he couldn’t join her in her tub, then he would enjoy a bath himself. Something about the thought of them both in the tub at the same time made Alexander grow hot.
Perhaps he could join her? He was, after all, Lord of Hardwyck. He could do whatever he wanted.
But it wouldn’t suit. She would never trust him enough to tell him all of her secrets if he forced himself on her.
Slipping into the tub, he imagined Chloe basking in the steamy warmth of her own bath.
Ah…a world of, if only…
He would have to devise a different tactic with her.
A light knock on the door startled Chloe awake and she chided herself for falling asleep in the tub. She could have drowned. And she was freezing. The water had long since cooled down.
“Just one moment,” she yelled to whoever was at the door.
Climbing out of the tub, gooseflesh attacked her skin. Teeth chattering and knees knocking together, she quickly dried herself and donned a night dress. She planned on having her evening meal brought to her and then she would go to sleep. Perhaps her meal had arrived.
Pulling on a thick wool robe she shivered her way to the door and opened it.
There standing in the doorway, or rather, looming in the doorway, was Alexander.
“Pardon me, my lord. Can I help you?” Chloe hugged the wool robe closer to herself.
Alexander’s glare faded slightly when he saw her teeth chattering.
“Planning on me returning the favor I see,” he teased lightly.
Chloe laughed a little at his joke, but did not move out of the way to let him in.
“Not intentionally. I seemed to have fallen asleep, in the…in the, uh…” She didn’t want to say tub, because it seemed indecent, although she was standing there in a thin nightgown only covered by a robe.
“I understand. Have you had your meal yet?” He looked past her into the chamber.
“No, I have not. Harold said he would have it sent to me.”
“Yes, he did mention that. I was wondering if you would be so kind as to join me in my chamber?”
“My lord, now that you are feeling better, I’m not so sure that would be, how should I put it, appropriate?”
“Ah…Chloe, I believe our time in the woods, and you having cared for me the last several days, lets us leave off formalities does it not?” He gave her a devilish wink.
She looked at him skeptically. He was up to something. When their last encounter ended, he had been yelling at her back and accusing her of trying to poison him. Now he was inviting her to dine with him? Planting provocative memories in her mind of their heated encounter in the woods. Insinuating more pleasures to come with his wolfish grin.
She ignored his heated gaze and hugged her robe closer to her body.
“My lord, I would request that you give me some privacy,” she said stoically, holding her chin high.
“I will take your request into consideration.” He posed like he was thinking. She waited for what seemed like minutes. “Very well, I will give you a few moments to dress. Then you must come to my room. We have much to discuss.” He turned and shut the door behind him, not even giving her a chance to argue.
Chloe sighed deeply and turned back to her room. She was still shivering and her fire was only embers. Knowing that Lord Hardwyck would no doubt have a roaring fire in his room, as well as some food and wine to warm her up, she dressed quickly, taking care to tuck the portrait back into her stays where it would not be noticed—she had a sinking suspicion while she was with Alexander, he’d have her room looked over thoroughly. After brushing her partially dried hair, she left it down. She didn’t bother to put on a headdress. She was so tired and cold, although
it would have only taken a few minutes to pin up her hair, that few minutes was too much.
She left her room quickly and traveled to his chamber. Rapping lightly on the door with numb knuckles. He shouted from within to enter. She opened the door cautiously, afraid to enter, but knowing that she must.
As Chloe suspected, the fire in the hearth was roaring and the chamber was beyond cozy. The warmth immediately wrapped around her body and she hoped that he would ask her to sit by the heavenly heat.
Lord Hardwyck sat in one of the chairs by the hearth sipping on a glass of wine. How she yearned for a glass of the liquid, not only to warm her body, but to soothe her nerves. He must have noticed her eyeing the chair opposite him and his glass of wine, for he motioned her to sit and she watched as he poured her a glass and waited for her reaction.
She wanted to run to the chair and rub her hands in front of the fire. She wanted to hold her feet and to soak up its warmth. Instead she walked slowly and deliberately to the chair and sat down, her back ramrod straight trying as hard as she could to make sure her expression was one of demure placidity. He handed her the glass of wine and she took it carefully. The sensation of her fingers brushing his caused a shiver to race along her limbs.
Taking a small sip, she tried to quell the rising desire in her blood. Briefly she closed her eyes at the heavenly feel of the warm wine as it traveled down her throat and she murmured her thank you to him.
“You said you had something you wished to discuss with me?” Chloe asked, taking another small sip of the wine. Already the heady drink had started to take affect.
He flashed a wicked smile at her. “Yes, Chloe, I want to discuss the satchel.” He looked at her, examined her, he was waiting for her reaction.
She gave him no indication that the topic disturbed her.
“Ah yes, the satchel you were insisting I possessed. I’m sorry to disappoint you my lord, but I am still completely unaware of what you speak.” She pulled out all of her training as a noblewoman at keeping secrets.
He laughed lightly at her and sipped his wine, his gaze drifting over her in an indecent way. His eyes roved her breasts then lower to ogle the space between her legs. She clamped her thighs tighter together. Heat flooded her chest and cheeks, and shamefully wound its way down her belly and in-between her thighs.
“You don’t do you? Somehow I must say that you are not telling me the truth.” Setting down his glass he leaned toward her in his chair, coming inches from her face, his eyes hard as he stared into hers. “I know what was in the satchel.”
Chloe couldn’t help but gasp, and her hand involuntarily rose to her breast, where her portrait was safely hidden. Did Alexander have her family jewels? Quickly coming to her senses she decided not to back down, not now, she couldn’t. She had to keep playing the game.
“My lord, what was in the satchel?” She sat back, gripping her wine tightly. “It must have meant a great deal to you, if you are still questioning me about it.” Something flickered in his eyes, but she couldn’t quite tell what it was.
“You know what was in the satchel, Chloe. Don’t play pretend with me.”
“My lord, I assure you again, that I have no idea what you are talking about.” She sipped casually at her wine, hoping that she was not showing a bit of her inner turmoil.
“Very well. Let me tell you a story.” He stood, facing the fire, his back to her, his hands clasped behind him.
He was going to let her off that easy?
“Once upon a time, there was a handsome, gallant knight, a lord actually, who owned many lands and castles. He worked loyally for King Henry V of England, going to battle whenever needed. Making sure that his lands prospered, and in return offering his king much in the way of food, textiles and manpower. One day the goodly lord was summoned before the king and given a grand task. He was to travel to the borders of Scotland and England to take back England’s castle and gain a wife. In return the king would warrant the lands safely in the hands of a loyal vassal. The extremely fierce lord did not want to take a wife, but since he had been ordered by his king and reassured of the lady’s beauty, he agreed. When he arrived he was shown great insolence from those who should have given him loyalty.”
No, he definitely was not going to let her off that easy. She squirmed uneasily in her chair. This was getting out of hand, he was toying with her.
“When the gracious lord went to claim his bride and new home, he found it deserted. His new bride gone. Naturally he was given the lands owed to him, and new title, but no wife. His bed lay cold. Then one day, he found his bride, along a desolate road, being attacked by a madman. How did she get there? He did not know, but he had to find out. Had she come to kill him? Had she come for revenge? She must have, for a wife whose family had been ruined, stripped down and left for dead would certainly want revenge on the man who had caused it all. Wouldn’t she?” At this he turned to face her, his piercing gaze burning through her.
She could no longer look into his eyes for he would see the truth there. He demanded the truth. She looked down at the ground unable to stand his stare for another second. Her mind had grown numb and she was unable to think, unable to respond. Her pulse was quick and her face felt like it was on fire. She tried to swallow but her throat was dry, tightening up by the second. She could barely breathe. Her shallow breaths came faster and faster.
Was she going to faint? Her head started to whirl and as things started to become dark, she felt herself falling, only one thought went through her mind: he knew.
Alexander was quick to react as he saw her eyes roll into the back of her head, and her goblet of wine drop from her hands. He quickly came to her side and caught her before she hit the floor.
His tactic worked. She gave him her answer when she fainted at the end of his story.
A mixture of feelings flowed through him. He wanted to gloat, yet he was apprehensive. He was ecstatic that he had been right, she was his bride—he could have her. But at the same time, fear and doubt crept into his mind. His father and the king would not condone the marriage now, and his people would question his motives.
He himself could not condone it, for he was sure she wanted to kill him. That had to be her plan, just as he had stated in his story to her: a woman whose family had been ruined, stripped down and left for dead would certainly want revenge on the man who had caused it all. Wouldn’t she?
Lord, he hoped not. He couldn’t stand it if that were the case. Alexander wanted her so badly he was willing to marry her despite her family’s treasonous acts. Deep down inside a little part of him didn’t think she had anything to do with it. But she had come here, to his keep—albeit he brought her here, she could have escaped. She had somehow infiltrated herself into his life. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.
He picked up Chloe, thinking to himself that she was as light as a feather. Carrying her to his bed, he laid her on it, deciding she looked right there. Her chest moved with quick shallow breaths. He made quick work of unfastening her dress and loosening her stays. When it resisted his efforts slightly, he had no problem ripping the fabric away. Her breathing came easier, but his quickened.
Lying there, in all her innocence, her breasts half exposed, Alexander’s breath caught in his throat. He stood still for a moment, not sure if he should believe what he was seeing. It was impossible. The thing he had been stressing over, fretting over, trying to trick her about was right before his eyes.
And it wasn’t just her breasts—although the sight of the sloping creamy mounds had his body hardening. It was a portrait. But not just any portrait. It was his beautiful chatelaine all dressed up in regal finery, and a man stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Who was he? Her betrothed? Her husband?
He had to move quickly. She would surely wake soon. Quickly, he snatched up the portrait and put it in the small chest on top of the mantle above his hearth. He then moved back to her and straightened her on the bed, putting some blankets over her to hide her half naked che
st. Although he did take a moment to stare at the light pink flesh, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke the soft swells as he’d done before.
It only deepened his need for her.
Tearing his eyes away, he went to his water basin and dipped a cloth into it. He wrung out the cloth and then brought it to her. Gently he wiped her face, her neck and her soft shoulders, and back again. Caring for her in such an intimate manner made his blood run hot. Although he held his fingers back from touching her breasts, he couldn’t help but stroke her face, just as she had stroked his. How ironic now that the tables were turned.
Leaning forward, Alexander placed a soft kiss on her lips, lingering to breathe in her feminine scent. Her even breaths washed over his face, and he had to resist the urge to kiss her again. Alexander turned his cheek so he could feel her breath on his face, and he closed his eyes.
Oh, how he wanted to wake up each morning to feel her breath so even on his face. What a dream that would be. He could then roll over and take her into his arms, sink into her warm, tight sheath. It was all too much. He didn’t know how long she would be out. Torn between taking his leave of her and pulling her into his arms, Alexander raked his hands through his hair as he stood. Neither were options. He wanted to be there when she woke. He knew she would be frightened, especially to find herself under the blankets in his bed. When she realized she was practically naked from the midsection up, and her portrait had been discovered, she would be more than frightened. She would panic, and in her panic she would do something dangerous, either to herself or someone else. And worst of all, he feared that she would run. Run away and be lost to him forever.
Alexander sat down and waited in the chair in which she had spent so many hours while he’d been sick. If only she would tell him the truth. He’d rather hear it from her than anywhere else. As much fun as their games had been, he was beginning to tire of the cat and mouse chase.
Daring Damsels Page 18
