Now, the challenge. In order not to wake anyone, Isabel must take the outer stairs. The very ones she’d tumbled down—been pushed down. Hesitating at the door, but knowing it was the only way to avoid alerting the guards, she eventually opened it. Gavin had told her he’d found no ice on the steps, but her inner self urged caution nonetheless. Leaning into the wall, she descended cautiously. It seemed to take forever, but finally she stepped on solid ground and heaved a sigh of relief. Out in the courtyard, near the gatehouse, Isabel glimpsed the wagon and several figures moving about it. She hoped Gavin was one of them.
“Good morrow, Isabel,” he said as she approached. “This is William, the chief mummer.”
In the dark, she could barely make out the man’s face. “Madam,” he said, offering a bow. Then he and another man lifted the canvas cover.
Gavin said, “We’ll remain under the cover until we are well away from the castle and the town. Then William will remove the canvas and we’ll be more comfortable.”
Handing Gavin her bag, Isabel looked at the wagon in dismay. With the mummers’ costumes and gear, there was precious little room for them. William must have sensed her distress, because he said, “You can lie on top of our costumes. They’ll be soft, at least, and protect you from the worst of the jolting.”
Gavin, thank God, had thought to bring a coverlet. He spread it over the costumes, then held out his hand to her. “Come, Isabel. We must leave before the sun is up.” He grasped her hand and bent his knee. She stepped on his thigh, and he boosted her up into the wagon. In one fluid motion, he was beside her. Stretching out, he pulled her down next to him. Even though she dreaded having the canvas laid over her, closing her in, she rather liked this part—lying so close to him she could feel his heart beating. The driver clucked to the horse, and they began their slow journey north.
“Are you all right?” Gavin asked.
“I don’t like the dark, or the confined space. But otherwise, yes.”
He tucked her head under his chin. “Hmm,” he said. “Perhaps we should take advantage of this…opportunity.” Just then, the wagon hit a pothole and dipped precariously, finally righting itself. They both laughed, and that relieved her anxiety. She could do this.
“It will be slow going, because not all of the mummers have mounts,” Gavin said. “Why don’t we try to get some sleep? I don’t know about you, but I was awake most of the night.”
If she could sleep, the time would pass more quickly. “Excellent idea.” She snuggled closer to him, and as she did so, she felt something wiggling beneath her. “Gavin! Do you feel that?”
“What?” Then, “Ah, we have company. Don’t panic. It’s likely a badger or a hedgehog burrowed in for warmth. I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate our lying on top of him. Move over.”
After she had shifted position, Gavin very awkwardly began lifting layers—coverlet, costumes, apparel—out of the way. When he shoved his hand under the remaining items, Isabel cautioned him. “Be careful! If it’s a wild thing, it may bite.”
In a moment, they heard a whimper. A very familiar one. Gavin and Isabel looked at each other, both recognizing the culprit at the same time. “Bisou!” Isabel said, delighted. Gavin fished the little dog out from under the layers and passed him to her.
She crushed him against her bodice. “Devil! How long have you been hiding out in here?” He licked her face, sniffed her, and then cuddled against her bosom.
“Remove yourself, varmint,” Gavin said. “You’ve stolen my woman.” But Bisou had found his spot and would not be persuaded to move.
The three cuddled up together and slept until the wagon juddered to a stop a few hours later.
…
Gavin gently squeezed Isabel’s shoulder. “We’ve stopped, Bel,” he said. She blinked, looked at him with unfocused eyes, and came fully awake. In a moment, William and another man had lifted the canvas covering. After stretching, Gavin jumped down, gripped Isabel around the waist, and set her on the ground. While she was smoothing her skirts, he reached for Bisou and handed him to her.
Looking up at William, Isabel said, “Have you seen this dog before, sir? He was burrowed beneath the costumes.”
William chuckled, and Gavin thought it a strange sound coming from him. He was a sober sort, tall and thin with protuberant ears. “We found him last night hovering about the wagon while we were packing up. One of the men said he’d fed him a few morsels. It was cold, so I let him sleep inside. Forgot all about him. Does he belong to you, madam?”
“Not exactly,” Bel said, at the same time Gavin pronounced an unequivocal “yes.”
Gavin reached out and scratched Bisou’s ears. “You look pretty good, scamp.” The dog was scruffy and smelled of mud and rotting things, but that would be easily remedied with a bath. “He’s been missing for a few days. You have my thanks for taking care of him.”
Isabel set Bisou on the ground. “I need to find the necessary.”
They’d stopped at an inn yard, but Gavin had no idea where. When Isabel walked off, he turned to William and asked.
“Stocksbridge. We’ll stay only long enough to refresh ourselves and then be off. How was the ride?”
“Overall, not bad. After we found the dog, we fell asleep. How was the road?”
“The surface is hard packed. Mostly frozen. Highwaymen, thieves, beggars—they’re a bigger worry.”
Gavin had noticed the mummers were armed with rapiers and daggers, as he himself was. “Perhaps we’ll be safe because of Christmastide. Most citizens are home celebrating with family and friends.”
“I pray you are right about that,” William said before striding away. When Isabel returned, Gavin left to see to his own needs. Afterward, he hastened inside and bought two meat pies and a tankard of ale. He and Bel leaned against the wagon, eating and drinking and tossing bites to Bisou. It was one of the best meals Gavin had ever eaten, the first he’d consumed in days without anxiety knotting in his gut. They finished just before William said it was time to leave.
The day was a gift. Though the air was chilly, the sun’s rays were strong. “How far is it to Huddersfield?” Isabel asked once they were underway.
“We should be there just before nightfall,” Gavin said. Isabel groaned.
They had managed to fold some of the costumes to cushion their ride. Though far from comfortable, at least it was bearable. Isabel insisted that Gavin tell her about his family’s business, how he’d met Anna, and what he’d been doing since her death. He was voluble on work and family, but hesitated when it came to his wife. What was there to say? “I loved her, and believed she loved me. I was mistaken.”
“I am sorry, Gavin. Had you no inkling prior to…to her infidelity?”
“My brothers and father always called her a shameless flirt, but I thought it was a jest. I was, in fact, proud that other men found her beautiful. They competed for her attention.” And then a memory flashed through his mind. He and his father watching from a distance while Anna stood among a group of admirers. Supposedly, they were helping her with the apple picking. In truth, they were sneaking looks at her pretty ankles and her breasts when she leaned down to toss more apples into the basket. His father had leaned close to him and said, “Have a care, son. Have a care with that one.”
He must have looked stricken, because Isabel said, “Let us talk of other matters. I am heartily sorry I brought up something so painful.” Her hand had snaked over and grasped his.
“I had a sudden memory, a time when my father told me to have a care with her. I’d forgotten it. Suppressed it, I suppose.” He chuckled. “No doubt there were many of those instances, and I was too blinded by love to see the truth.”
Just then, a teeth-rattling jolt knocked Isabel off her perch atop a band box. “Whoa,” Gavin said, righting her. He pulled her closer and kept hold of her arm. The highway, partially frozen, had made for decent traveling, but potholes surprised them here and there.
Isabel did not comment, so he went on.
“The night on the riverbank, when I almost drowned, I tried to prepare myself by seeking forgiveness for my many sins. I acknowledged my gravest sin was in not forgiving Anna and vowed to do so. And yet something inside me still asks why. What did I do that caused her to seek out the favors of another man?”
Isabel looked sheepish. “I am afraid I have little knowledge or understanding of these matters, Gavin. Perhaps there is no real answer. Mayhap it was in her nature and had nothing at all to do with you.”
He squeezed her hand. If the other men hadn’t been nearby, he would have kissed her. It was good of her to try to help him come to terms with his wife’s betrayal, but it was not so simple as Isabel suggested.
It was growing dark when they arrived in Huddersfield. William steered the wagon to an inn yard. When they asked about accommodations, however, they were disappointed. Because it was market day, there was only one small room available, which would go to the lady, of course. The men were welcome to sleep in the main room, in chairs or on the floor.
“The lady will have a bath after supper, sir. Will you see to it?”
Isabel had looked on in surprise. “Thank you, Gavin. I wouldn’t have thought to ask.”
He laughed. “I have a selfish motive. I want to bathe when you are done. And then we can scrub that little varmint, Bisou. He reeks.”
They joined the mummers for supper in the main room. The innkeeper’s wife and a serving wench brought out platters of roast beef with vegetables and loaves of bread. Gavin requested wine for him and Isabel. The atmosphere was raucous. It was drawing close to the New Year celebration, and joviality prevailed. When the citizens discovered a troupe of mummers was among them, they demanded to be entertained. Reluctant at first, the men finally agreed. Their protests were perfunctory, for they would pass round the hat both before and after.
“We’ll leave you to it, gentlemen,” Gavin said, “since we have already seen the show.”
Gavin signaled to the innkeeper. It was time to bring the hot water upstairs for Isabel’s bath.
…
“I am sorry you do not have a chamber,” Isabel said as they climbed the stairs.
“No matter. It won’t be the first time I’ve slept in a taproom.”
Gavin unlocked the door and they went in. The chamber was small but clean, with one window overlooking the inn yard. The bathtub rested before the hearth, which Gavin lit. To Isabel’s distress, a degree of awkwardness had sprung up between them. They were a couple, but not man and wife. Yet here was Gavin, seeing to her needs. It felt like a wedding night. After lighting candles from the spills on the mantel, she lifted Bisou into her arms and petted him, to keep herself occupied while servants carried in the steaming hot water.
They finished at last, and Gavin said, “Your bath awaits, madam.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm.
“Yes, well, I’d better prepare.”
“Do you require help?”
Merciful God, what should she say? “Yes. No. That is…”
Gavin chuckled. “Put that malodorous dog down, and I’ll unlace your bodice.”
That would be all right. She set Bisou on the floor, and he promptly curled up by the fire. Isabel had underestimated the danger she was putting herself in by allowing Gavin to unlace her. To get anywhere near her. The feel of his hands at her back, the nearness of him—was he deliberately standing so close to her? So close she could feel his powerful thighs pressing against her. His breath tickled her neck, whispered in her ear. Her own thighs were quivering, and the private place at their juncture throbbed and hummed.
Just when Isabel thought she might turn and throw herself into his arms, he said, “Done. I’ll take Bisou outside while you bathe.” He left the room without a second look. She didn’t know if she was relieved or grievously disappointed. The latter, if she were honest. She very nearly called him back.
Quickly, Isabel undressed and sank down into the hot water. After the long day of travel, it was not only cleansing, but provided consolation and balm for her weary and confused self. Not wanting to linger too long, she began scrubbing herself, using the bar of soap left for her. In the end, she washed her hair as well.
After she’d dried off, she donned her clean chemise, took up her comb, and sat before the fire to dry her hair. In a few moments, she heard Gavin and Bisou in the hall. Her heart leaped. At length, he tapped on the door. “Isabel? Have you finished your bath?”
“Aye. You may enter.” Her chemise was of fine lawn, nearly translucent. Gavin would see her body clearly, almost as if she were naked. That was what she wanted. While she’d bathed, she’d reached a decision. If Gavin wanted to bed her, she was his.
The door opened, and Bisou trotted in, settling near her. Then Gavin stepped over the threshold and came to an abrupt halt. He looked. He hesitated. His expression warmed, eyes gleaming with desire. He simply stood there for a moment, drinking her in. “Isabel. I-I can’t be in here with you, like that. It’s simply not possible.”
“What if I want you to be? Would you reconsider?” She was part trembling need, part consuming fear. Of rejection. Of…taking an irrevocable step. Gavin hadn’t said he loved her. He had not asked for her hand. She could be committing herself to an act she may regret the rest of her life. But she wanted him anyway.
He strode toward her, grabbed her comb and hurled it across the room, then pulled her into his arms. His kiss was tender and needful, yet rampant with desire. He raised his head long enough to say, “Are you jesting? Would I reconsider? I’ve been wanting you for so long, I may embarrass myself.”
Isabel wasn’t certain what that meant, but she got the gist.
“I can’t make love to you like this,” Gavin said. “I’m dirty and smell as bad as Bisou. Let me wash first.” He discarded his doublet, then pulled his shirt over his head, baring a chest sculpted with muscle. “Avert your eyes if you do not care to see me completely naked,” he said, but she could tell he was teasing her. She would not avert her eyes if God himself commanded it. Then Gavin removed his hose, and his aroused male part sprang free. Watching her, he climbed into the tub. He took his time about it, and Isabel thought perhaps he was preening for her. Her excitement surged. She couldn’t wait for him to be inside her. Fleetingly, she thought of the other ladies and how jealous they would be that it was she who would make love with Gavin. A grin must have broken over her face, because he said, “What is so amusing, Bel?”
“Remember when I told you about the ladies speculating on your…your organ? I was recalling that conversation and it made me smile.”
“Come here,” he said, suddenly serious.
She approached warily. “What?”
Holding out the soap, he said, “Pray, wash me. Everywhere.”
“My chemise will get wet,” she protested feebly.
“Perhaps you should remove it.”
Her shyness won out and she carefully rolled her sleeves up as far as she could. The servants had left ewers of water, and after ordering him to tip his head back, she lifted one and poured it over his hair. Then she soaped and massaged his scalp with the tips of her fingers. Another pitcher of water to rinse.
“Lean forward so I can wash your back.” She ran the soap over that long, sleek expanse. When she was done, he dipped into the water and rinsed off. She washed his arms and his chest and midriff, leaving off when she neared his groin. “Legs.” Her mouth was dry, and that was all she could manage to say. It was difficult to ignore that part of him, jutting out of the water.
He raised one leg and balanced it on the edge of the tub. She started with his foot and worked her way up to his divinely muscled thigh, again stopping when she neared his erection. She couldn’t ignore it, so she gazed at it until the soap dropped from her hand and onto his other thigh. Blushing, she retrieved it and moved on to his other leg, working quickly. This was torture. When she made to rise, Gavin said, “I think you forgot one part of me.”
“I-I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to touch yo
u there.”
Gavin wrested the soap from her hand and lathered his rampant erection. Then he took her hand and placed it around his member. “Move your hand up and down, like this, sweetheart.” His flesh was soft and hard all at once. It burgeoned with her touch. Gavin had leaned back, resting his head against the tub, but he was watching her. After a minute, he said, “Enough. I can’t take any more.” With lightning speed, he climbed out, dried off, and lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently.
“Tell me what you want, Isabel.”
…
Gavin held his breath, waiting for her answer.
“I do not know how to describe it. All I know is this. I want you to touch me, wherever it pleases you.”
Thanks be to a merciful God. He hadn’t been certain if she wanted him as much as he did her. His body may have been an experiment to her, something to discover and scrutinize.
“That would be everywhere,” he said wryly. He lifted her chemise over her head, first asking, “May I?” Then she was completely naked and lying next to him. He adored her with his hands, cherished her with his mouth. Kissing his way down her body, he palmed one breast while suckling at the other. Her breaths grew shallow.
“You are so beautiful, Bel,” he said. “From head to toe. Your hair flows in waves about your shoulders and feels like silk. Your skin is soft and smooth as a rose petal. Your lips are velvet.”
When he reached her core and the folds that hid her sex, he hesitated. But only for a moment. “Gavin?” she said. And then he knew she wanted everything. He stroked her there until she gasped with need. He could not hold back much longer. Rising up on his knees, he gently coaxed her legs apart and placed himself at her entrance.
God’s breath, he did not know if she was a virgin. He couldn’t inquire now, not when they were in the throes of passion, but he would need to be gentle. “Tell me if it hurts, sweet Bel, and if you wish me to stop.”
Game of Spies Page 21
