Awakening His Lady: Novella (Norfolk Knights Book 3) Page 2

  His eyes were black under his lowering brow, full of anger and frustration.

  “Don’t presume to judge me by your knowledge of another, Angel.” His voice filled the Hall, as if he were commanding a legion of unruly soldiers, and his eyes held hers with an angry intensity that cut right through to her heart. She heard the hurt as well as the anger in his voice. But even if she hadn’t, she knew what he felt, because she felt it too.

  Alongside the anger and hurt at the past, there rose a clawing, uncivilized need for him that went beyond understanding. It shortened her breath, it made her heart pound loudly in her ears and sent shards of desire skittering through her body, heating and melting as they went. It was as if the flint walls had receded leaving only the two of them, alone in the world. It was a madness from which she had to turn away.

  She tore her gaze from his and jumped up, shaking her head. She couldn’t succumb to these feelings. She had too much to lose. She inhaled a long, slow breath, desperate to regain her senses before she turned back to face him. “I shall judge as I see fit.”

  He sighed sharply. “You’re wrong. I don’t want to own you.” He stepped towards her. “Angel, don’t you understand? I want to marry you.”

  For a long moment, she was stunned into silence. Then memories of her life with her husband came crashing back, one after another, image upon image of the humiliation and misery of her marriage. “Same thing.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “Yes it does. If I marry you I have no rights. You have control over me, over my lands. Why would I want to marry you? I have no need, no requirement to be married. I know marriage. And I want no more of it.”

  He reached over to her and pulled her to him. His chest heaved against her breasts as he inhaled. Her own breathing came quickly, like a trapped animal sensing the worst. He moved his hands down the sides of her body and around her back, pulling her even closer to him. “What happened to you, Angel?”

  She closed her eyes in relief, instantly stilling under the comfort of his embrace and warmth of his voice. “Life happened,” she whispered. He was so close now. “I married. I grew up.” She looked up at him, sad at the gulf of understanding that existed between them, despite their physical closeness. “I wish for no more marriage, Guy.”

  “But I hear the King wishes you to marry.”

  She smiled then, for the first time. “I have come to an arrangement with the King. I have paid for my freedom.”

  Just saying it gave her the strength to pull away from him and sit down. She indicated once more that he should be seated in the chair opposite. He searched her eyes for a long moment before sitting down heavily in the carved chair. He picked up his wine and took a long drink, his eyes never leaving hers. His presence pressed against her as surely as his hands had.

  She did not drink but returned his gaze levelly, with the strength gained from years of assuming an impassive face before her jealous husband.

  He frowned into his cup. “You have great trust in the King.”

  “And you are saying you do not? You are on dangerous ground.”

  “We all live our lives on dangerous ground, Angel. There is no such thing as safety.”

  She swallowed. It could not be so. “Maybe not. But we have to try to make our lives as safe as possible. I have to trust the King because he holds my life in his hands.”

  “’Tis not enough reason to trust, my Lady Angelique. You were ever want to trust the wrong person.”

  “I trusted you.” She sat back against her chair, suddenly needing its support. “Was that wrong?”

  “You trusted me to give you something I could not give.”

  She shrugged. “A woman has little choice in the matter of whom to trust. Besides this time, the trust is bought—which will make it far more reliable.”

  He leaned forward to her, his eyes hot and urgent. “Listen to me, Angelique. What the King wants, the King gets. You are too valuable to him. He will sell you—and the freedom you value so much—to the highest bidder, whether for money or power. And he’s hungry for both.” He sat back again. “Question is, not whether you will marry, but who.”

  Chapter 3

  It was what she’d heard, it was what she’d feared, but it was what, up ’till now, she’d refused to believe.

  She shook her head. “No, it cannot be.” She rose and paced away from the fire, her leather shoes muffled upon the rush-strewn floor. “It cannot be,” she murmured to herself, willing the resolve, the strength, to return. She turned to him again. It was easier from a distance. “It cannot be, Guy.”

  He didn’t move, as if sensing her need for distance. “It can be.”

  “So—” she felt reassured by his restraint, and returned to the fire and took her seat once more “—you are suggesting I marry you to prevent a marriage arranged by the King?”

  “That is not the only reason I am suggesting it, I—”

  She held up her hand, needing him to stop. “The King would never approve it. Besides I shall never again marry. I am my own woman now. I have my independence. Or will have. The King has agreed to it, provided I give him his price.”

  “Oh, Angel.” Guy looked at her with weary eyes. “You are an innocent.”

  “Maybe. But ’tis not the only thing I’m relying on. Once his envoy has arrived to take the silver, I will leave for the north.”

  Guy nodded, but she could see he was not convinced she would escape the King’s plans. “Aye. It would have been a good plan, if…” He shrugged and trailed off, apparently unwilling to tell her why her plan would fail. And she didn’t ask him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear knowing her plans might fail.

  “So tell me,” she said brightly, needing to change the subject, needing to find a footing between them that was untainted by fear, recrimination or the compulsion she felt to reach out and touch him, to connect with his body in any way she could. “Tell me what you have been doing. Last time I saw you, you were leaving for France.”

  “There is little more to be said.”

  “But what of the battles you fought beside the King? There is nothing to be said about them?”

  He looked at her sadly, cradling his cup of wine in his hands as he looked back at the fire. “Nothing I wish to say.”

  “You used to talk of nothing else but your desire to see other lands, to test yourself against others in battle.”

  “I was young and knew no better.” He sighed and returned his gaze to her once more. “Now I do. There was too much death, too much darkness.”

  “But you prospered.”

  “Aye, I prospered. I did well enough so that I never have to return. And, God willing, I never shall.”

  She frowned. “You seem to have everything worked out.”

  “That depends. And not upon God.” He put down his cup and leaned forward and took her hands. She tried to keep a cool head but was aware of every pressure, every slide of his fingers against hers. “Sweet Jesus, Angel, do you know how long I’ve imagined this moment?”

  Her mouth was dry as she tried to form the words. Yes, she did, for it was the same with her. But she could say nothing. For whatever went on in her imagination had little connection to the harsh reality of life. She shook her head.

  “No? I’ve been imagining this moment since the last time I saw you, on your wedding day. You looked so beautiful.”

  “You were not there. I did not see you.”

  “I was there, watching. I needed to see with my own eyes that you were married and unobtainable. And you were; you’d moved beyond me. I couldn’t believe I’d ever had the courage to kiss you, to hold you.”

  The flickering flames of the fire suddenly seemed too potent as a wave of heat swept through her body. She could feel his lips upon hers, could feel the strength of his arms pulling her tight against his aroused body, as if it were yesterday.

  “Nine years has made your memory unreliable. It was I, Sir Guy, who kissed you.” She licked her lips as her heart qui
ckened at the visceral surge of memories. “I waited until you were alone in the stables. Then I slipped my hands around you and forced you to press your body to mine. ‘Twas I who reached up and pulled your head to mine so I could taste your lips.” She watched with satisfaction as his eyes flashed darkly in response to her words. “Trust a man to turn his memory to his advantage.”

  “A forward lady, who always got what she wanted. I remember well, no matter what you say.” His voice was roughened, like the stippled surface of the German Sea below which deep currents swirled.

  She looked down, as the subsequent memories clouded her mind. “Sometimes I got what I didn’t want. Marriage for instance. I never wanted that. I couldn’t believe father had won and I was being wed.”

  “You always knew he had to win. You had no choice. Not then, and not now.”

  She shook her head. “Times change. My father died some years past—his land divided between my sisters and me—and my husband is dead. The death of these two men has brought me power.”

  He shook his head with a sadness in his eyes that made her uncomfortable. But then his eyes warmed again as they roamed her face: from her hair, to her eyes, cheeks and neck and lower. Her lips parted in response to the boldness of his stare, but then his gaze suddenly returned to her eyes and she froze, by instinct, like an animal caught in a predator’s sight.

  “Some things never change. Like you. You’re still as beautiful as ever.”

  Suddenly instead of wanting to keep her distance, she wanted him near, she wanted him to see her for what she’d become. “Come, look closer in my eyes. Is that what you really see? Because it’s not what I feel.”

  She took his hand and held it to her cheek, revelling in the feel of his strong, calloused palm against her delicate skin. As his eyes roamed her face, heat swept outwards from her centre, like the ripples from a stone dropped into a millpond.

  “I see you still.”

  “But—”

  “No. I see you, the real you, the one you keep hidden from the world. I see that person, unchanged since the day I first saw you.”

  He didn’t move his hand, but continued to gaze at her. Tears, that had lain unshed for so many years, pressed against her hot eyes as she met his gaze.

  “No. Guy, please don’t. I’m here only for a few more nights—until the King’s money is paid— and then I’ll be leaving for the north where the Barons no longer support the King. I’ll be safer there. You’re right. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone. I need to go where I cannot easily be reached.”

  “So I have only a few days and nights to persuade you to marry me?”

  She inhaled tightly as she felt the touch of his lips against her fingers. “No. Only one night. You must be gone before my household return in the morn. Otherwise it could jeopardize my plans.”

  “One night. ’Tis all I need.”

  “So sure?”

  His smile reflected her own, revealing their mutual understanding. Suddenly, the long, empty years that stood between them dissolved into nothing more than a heartbeat.

  “Yes. That is all I need to show you that you should marry me.”

  She hesitated for a moment. She would never again be married. She wanted none of it. But she remembered the cravings of her body for this man beside her. She felt them still as he touched her, awakening within her feelings that she must forever suppress if she were to be in control of her life. Should she? Should she submit to this one weakness, this one night? One night in which to indulge herself, to explore herself, before closing down that side of her forever?

  It was madness. “Even if you did persuade me to marry you—which you won’t—the King would never allow it. You must go now, before the high tide makes the causeway impassable.”

  She started to stand but he stopped her.

  “I’m not going. I will be with you this night if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “If the King discovers you are alone with me, it might very well be your last.”

  “I’ll risk it to show you what pleasure I can bring you.”

  “Pleasure outside marriage, not with the aim of bringing children into the world, is unholy. That is what the priests say.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “No. If the priests believe what my husband did to me was good, then they are mistaken.”

  “So give me this night together.”

  She nodded slowly. Deep down inside her, where her mind seemed to hold no sway, the words formed, sprung from her body’s needs.

  “The night is yours.”

  He rose from the chair and extended his hand to hers in invitation. “Come to me, Angel.”

  Chapter 4

  She flexed her hands as she tried to prevent herself from reaching out to him, to stop herself from slipping her fingers into his hair and pulling his face to hers, until his lips were pressed hard against hers. She swallowed and tentatively reached out to his hand. She could no more have prevented it than have stopped the spring tides rolling onto the marshes. He curled his fingers around hers and tugged her to him.

  Her heart quickened as her hand pressed against his chest to balance herself. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she splayed her fingers over his chest, moving over the rough wool of his shirt, sensing the taut strength of his muscle that lay beneath. His muscles contracted under her touch as he sucked in a sharp breath. She looked up into his dark eyes. “I am here. What now?”

  He lifted her chin and smiled as he brushed his lips against hers, so gently, so at odds with the power she could sense in his tense body. He held his mouth there, as if breathing her in, then he touched them with a delicacy and restraint she had no memory of, before drawing back, too soon.

  “You won’t regret it.” His voice was husky with desire. He reached down, took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Now I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

  She gasped lightly, and bit her lips in a vain attempt to stop them trembling. He laughed and swept his lips over her knuckles. She frowned. “Why do you laugh?”

  “Because I cannot believe I am here with you now. Besides, love does not have to be a solemn thing.” His smile broadened. “Do you remember those games we used to play?”

  She smiled as the memories of the two of them in the stables and then later, in the old chapel, came flooding back. “I might have forced you to kiss me but from there it was you who took the initiative, I remember well.”

  He grinned, a slow grin that made her stomach tighten with pleasure. It was the same smile of old, except the lines that bracketed his mouth and that fanned out from around his eyes, were deeper in the sun-browned skin. “Because I had no choice. Just one taste of your lips and I knew I had to explore the rest of your body, see if it tasted as good.”

  Lust ground, deep and needy, inside her. “Just as well we were only ever alone for moments at a time.”

  “Aye, stolen moments during which I would discover one part of your body at a time.” He touched her shoulder and shifted her hair slightly, pushing her gown away a little. “Like your shoulder.” His gaze narrowed as his finger caressed the dips and hollows around her shoulder. “Such delicacy.” He looked up and caught her equally hot gaze. “And such strength.”

  She licked her lips. “I wasn’t so strong when it came to us. It was you who rationed our time, limited our discoveries.”

  “We would have been found out, otherwise.”

  “But we weren’t,” she said softly.

  “No thanks to you, Angel. You had no thought beyond us.”

  “No. I would have given you anything you wanted.”

  His smile was tense with desire and regret. “And now?”

  She hesitated, knowing he wanted more than she could give. “We have this night. Only this night.”

  He nodded, and she could see in his eyes that he understood. But then he always had. “And we have something, now, Angel, that we longed for when we were young. A chamber to ourselves.”

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nbsp; She shivered as his hand drew lazily up her spine. “All we had then was the old chapel.”

  “It was always so cold,” he breathed against her cheek, teasing her senses.

  She shivered. “And uncomfortable.”

  “Aye, no soft surfaces to lay you down on. And no doors, or windows. It was probably just as well the old chapel gave us little privacy, else—”

  “Who knows what might have happened,” she interrupted.

  “I know what would have happened. Let me show you.” He sat back down on the ornately carved armchair and pulled her onto his lap. His eyes flickered around her face, before settling on her lips. His fingers swept round her neck, and then down to her jaw, before curling under her chin. He tilted it up to meet his face and brushed his thumb over her lower lip, settling into the soft cleft at its centre. “I can still remember the taste of you. Sweet and fresh like a ripe apricot. I wonder if you taste the same.”

  Spellbound, all sensible thought fled. “And you,” she dipped her head to his neck and inhaled deeply, feeling his sharp intake of breath under her hands that lay upon his chest. “You still smell the same. Like leather and fresh air. I used to dream of that. I’d wake up filled with your scent.”

  “Even though I never slept beside you?”

  She shook her head but he stilled the movement with his hands.

  “We did not need to sleep together to know each other, did we?”

  She shook her head again, unable to utter a single word as his lips sought hers. Her heart pounded sharply as his lips met hers in a kiss that held both softness and power. It commanded a response from her body that was long forgotten. Too soon, his lips left hers and sought out her jaw, her cheek, her ear before settling on her neck—breathing and tasting her as if she were a delicacy he wished to savour.

  She let her head fall back, allowing him easier access to her neck, and closed her eyes as sensation after sensation rippled over her skin and deeper, inside her body. She gasped for air, feeling an urgent need to stop the dizziness that threatened to overtake her.