She stared at him blankly. ‘And now he’s dead because of his troubles.’
‘Remember, you’re talking about a hardened old warhorse who had seen many battles.’ Will gave her a steady gaze. ‘He died protecting what he had sworn on his sword to protect.’
‘So, not us?’
He smiled faintly as he cupped her jaw. ‘Not exactly, sweetheart. That was my bargain.’
‘Oh, Will.’ She tried returning his smile, but it felt brittle on her lips. ‘I wish...oh, I wish that I never sought to find out about the vellum.’
‘Yes, I know all about regret, Isabel,’ he said quietly. ‘But however much you wish things to be different, you cannot change what happened.’
‘No...’
‘You have to accept that it has happened. And you have to live with it,’ he continued.
‘It’s not easy.’
‘It won’t be, but you can’t allow this bitterness, this regret, to eat away at you because one day you’ll come to realise that there’s nothing left, just an empty shell of the person you used to be.’
Isabel tilted her head up as her fingers touched his jaw. ‘Is that what happened to you after...after Portchester?’
She understood now much more than before—the pain, responsibility and regret that Will had felt and perpetually lived with. Understood how it must have almost ripped him apart.
‘Yes,’ he said softly, after a long moment.
But he was wrong about one thing.
He hadn’t become a shell of a person, as he thought he was, devoid of any feeling. Isabel watched him in the moonlight, her fingers caressing the hard contours of his face. Without realising what she was about to do, Isabel went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently to his. When she paused he sucked his breath through his teeth and watched her, motionless, as she repeated the gesture again and again. Dear God, but she wanted his kiss—wanted to be wrapped by his warmth.
She pulled away slightly. ‘You are so much more than the shell you believe you’ve become.’ Her words, a little breathless, needed to be said. For him, as well as for her. ‘The man you were—’ her fingers spread across his chest, tapping lightly ‘—is still here, Will.’
He opened his mouth to say something, but after giving his head a quick shake, closed it. Their eyes locked. Heat flooded her veins and stained her skin. Her pulse surged and quickened as she felt her stomach clench in eager anticipation of something—something she’d never known to exist before this night. An unadulterated want to take away this burden of pain and replace it with pleasure.
She watched the powerful muscles of his chest rise and fall rapidly, his eyes glittering with unbridled emotion before he swept down, covering her mouth with his own. This time he kissed her with so much desperate need and intensity that Isabel felt her knees might buckle under her.
His large hands circled her waist, pulling her closer until she was pressed against the wall of his large body, her hands resting on his shoulders, feeling the tension beneath her fingers. His lips slanted over hers, his tongue pushing through her lips, inciting a moan from her mouth. Isabel followed his lead as their breaths merged together, their tongues tangling.
Dear God, what was happening to her?
Will lifted Isabel, kissing and devouring her mouth, before gently laying her down on the pallet. He nibbled the corners of her lips, his calloused fingers grazing up her neck, then diving into her hair before tilting her jaw upwards to gain better access to kiss, nip and taste the smooth tender skin there and down the column of her neck. He teased the opening of the linen tunic down using his teeth, his fingers touching and caressing her exposed skin. He moved back to her lips, pressing hot kisses a few more times before pulling away.
‘Isabel... We have to stop.’
‘No,’ she mumbled, pulling him down, fastening her lips to his, kissing him deeply. ‘We really don’t.’
She loved the taste of him...
‘You need sleep.’ His voice was hoarse, ragged even.
‘I don’t...’ She needed much more than sleep. She needed him, needed this closeness, needed the touch of his hands and the feel of his kisses. She wanted to run her fingers all over him.
‘Please, Will.’ She pulled him to her, but he gently caught her hands and brought them to his mouth, kissing her fingers one by one.
‘You don’t know what you’re saying, sweetheart.’ His smile was faintly bemused. ‘I don’t want this to be another thing you regret.’
She sat up, her knees bent with her feet tucked underneath her, and closed her eyes. Leaning close, she kissed and touched him along his jaw, the sharp, angled cheekbones and his lips again and again before licking his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. ‘I...won’t. I promise I won’t.’
‘Oh, God, Isabel. What are you doing?’ Will growled, looking at her with so much intensity, so much suppressed longing, that it robbed her of breath. ‘We mustn’t get carried away like this.’
His words stopped mid-flow, seemingly caught in his throat, and his eyes dropped to her shaking fingers in disbelief as she found the edge of the tunic she wore and pulled it up and over her head. Isabel watched him with a bold stare, perplexed to understand where this unknown confidence had come from as she sat on the pallet baring the nakedness of her upper body.
‘Don’t,’ she whispered softly. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’
Slowly her confidence with her brazen behaviour began to ebb away, her hands sliding up her body, to cover her naked breasts.
Oh, God, what foolishness...
Will didn’t want her in the same way as she wanted him—either that or he had far more self-control than she had.
How mortifying...
Will’s expression slowly changed then. His gaze under his hooded eyes smouldered and blazed. His smile was inscrutable. He sat opposite Isabel, slowly prising one finger, then another away, his eyes piercing through her. With each finger he took away, he brushed his fingers along hers, in a sensual stroke, up and down, before holding both of her hands in his, caressing the inside of her palm with slow circular motion, moving to the tender skin on her wrists. He pressed slow, wet kisses to the inside of her hands, where his fingers had been, tracing the tip of his tongue along the length of her fingers. She gasped at this unexpected pleasure, from the featherlight touch of his lips, tongue and mouth on her fingers, which bloomed and dispersed through her entire body.
It was only then that his eyes raked her up and down. He inhaled deeply before lifting the edge of his own tunic and echoed what she had done only moments ago, pulling it up and over his head. The corner of his lips lifted slightly, along with one arched brow, as he held it out before dropping it to the ground.
They knelt in front of each other on the pallet, watching and drinking in the sight of one another disrobed, exposed and breathless.
Isabel moved first, her fingers itching to touch the firm, taut skin of his magnificent chest dusted with a smattering of dark hair, up through to his powerful shoulders, taking note of the recent scar she had sewn up and past wounds—a reminder that this man was a seasoned warrior.
Her hands dragged round the bulging muscles of his arms to the hard planes of his back, feeling the smoothness as they made their way back around to his chest. She pressed her hands flat against his beating heart, feeling his pulse surge.
He took in a sharp breath as he pushed her down gently, her head falling back to be nestled against the cushioned softness. He lay beside her, his elbow bent, one hand supporting the side of his head, while the other skimmed over the length of her body. She shivered under his touch as his fingers brushed from her shoulder around to the curve of her breast, down to her flat stomach and then back up again.
The pad of his thumb circled round her nipple agonisingly slowly. So slowly that she almost screamed. He dipped his head low and flicked his tongue over one nipple
in exactly the same way as his fingers continued to caress the other. And this time she did cry out.
‘Are you well, Isabel?’ he said sheepishly, knowing perfectly the effect he was having on her.
Her whole body felt as though it was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think rationally. ‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ she ground out, her breathing ragged. ‘How are you?’
‘Never better.’ He grinned as his fingers grazed the underside of her breast, moving down further and further before they circled her navel, his lips, tongue and teeth following the trail.
He moved back to her lips, catching her moan with his mouth. She felt his inquisitive tongue slip and slide along hers in a continuous dance, luscious and slow. His hand slipped down the side of her body, over the flare of her hips and around the curve of her back, drifting to her round bottom, giving it a squeeze, his fingers caressing and digging into her backside, learning the shape of her.
Dear God!
Her languid body didn’t seem as though it belonged to her any more. A knot of uncontrollable need—something unknown and unfathomable—was building in her core, begging to be unravelled.
He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it gently before pulling away, his fingers tracing her wet, swollen lips, over and over. He pushed himself up, supporting his weight with his arms. ‘Isabel?’ His whispered voice rumbled low, reverberating through her body. Her eyes flickered open in response, meeting his gaze.
She shuddered, as she felt Will’s hand brush down the length of her body slowly, in a long sweeping motion, touching every dip, and curve, his mouth following the trail, reverently.
His fingers reached the fabric ties around her waist, holding up the braes—his braes—that she was wearing. He worked, expediently, tugging and pulling to open the knot, but then stopped abruptly, panting as his fingers hovered, curling over and under the fabric. He gave his head a swift shake and leant back.
‘We must stop this now, before it goes any further,’ he rasped.
She kept her eyes pinned to his, as her own breathing came in quick bursts.
How could she have known that her innocent kiss would ignite this feverish need? Nothing had ever felt like this—no sensation had ever matched this wonder.
But she wanted more.
She answered him by dragging her hand over to the knotted cord of his braes, undoing his ties and pulling them open, in just the same way he had done. She watched as he blinked several times and his throat worked, swallowing in apparent discomfort.
* * *
Will had not been expecting this response. All of his tantalising attentions had been a way to satisfy some raw need in her, in the hope that it would persuade her to stop this explosive connection between them. It had had the opposite effect on her instead.
Her hand slowly began to push his braes down his hips. His eyes widened in shock as his hand moved quickly to cover hers.
‘Isabel?’
‘Please...’ Her other hand snaked around his neck, pulling his face close to hers. She lifted her head and kissed him open mouthed. ‘Don’t stop.’
Chapter Fifteen
Daylight broke through the cracks of the wooden walls, gleaming against the dark surfaces of the chamber, creating haphazard streaks of light in every direction.
Will opened his eyes and blinked, stifling a yawn. His hands searched the surface of the pallet, but found only a residual lingering warmth. Sitting up abruptly on the pallet, naked and alone, memories from the previous evening tumbled through his head, making him groan out loud.
Hell!
What had he done?
He shouldn’t have done it—he shouldn’t have allowed the spark of intimacy between them to become the scorching flame that it had. He was the one with the experience, after all, not Isabel, and he should have curtailed things before they had both lost all sense and reason...as they had. He should never have kissed her the way he had, tasting and touching her as he explored her body, eager to learn every secret part of her.
Isabel might not have been able to control her ardour, but Will should have shown far more resolve. He should have resisted her and not given in to weakness.
God, what a fool he had been!
Isabel had been hurt, confused and full of regret about the disturbing events of the previous evening. She needed his comfort, assurance, someone to lean on, yet she got a lot more for her troubles.
He had no right, damn it! He had no right to her at all! Yet, she had stirred feelings in him that he just didn’t comprehend. They were new, unwelcome and utterly objectionable for a man who was half of what he used to be.
Isabel deserved better, much better than him.
He sighed as he jumped off the pallet, raking his fingers through his hair. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the neatness of the chamber. It had been cleared. Even his clothes had been folded on the table, along with his flagon and a small plate of food—the last remnants of their supplies. A few dry purple petals—from her medicinal stash, no doubt—had been placed beside it, decorating the table with a flash of colour.
He smiled to himself at her tender thoughtfulness as he began to get dressed.
* * *
Will dipped under and around branches of hardy trees that concealed the wooden hut, along the pathway littered with of long blades of grass that jutted out from the sand intermittently. He continued down the undulating sand dune that led directly to the long stretch of sandy beach and saw Isabel playing with the little dog, in the distance.
A flash of memory darted through his head as he recalled happier times as a young lad when they had moved close to the Norfolk coastline. His father—rather, stepfather—had finally been accepted to join the Stonemasons’ Guild and their family had moved to be near him as he assisted the Master Mason on a new church. For the children it had been wonderful, after living in the confines of London, to live in so much open space with the sense of freedom it brought them, even for a short time.
It wasn’t long after that that Will moved away from his family to start his training as a squire with Sir Percival Halstead. He should have known, not then, but later, mayhap, that it was not the normal way of things for a young boy to be plucked from an ordinary family without any consequence to train with a celebrated knight. It was a rarity. Will always knew he was different from all of his siblings, who had their father’s colouring. So, it came as no real surprise when his mother admitted that he was not Matthew Geraint’s natural son, but the nobleman Guy, Lord de Manville. Yet the truth had still been bitter to swallow, even though it at least explained his stepfather’s lack of interest and utter disdain for him, why nothing Will ever did could please the man.
Will gave himself a mental shake and returned his gaze to the scene before him. It struck him that he was taking Isabel back to what remained of a family which had all but given up on her, as he had freely forsaken his own. God, but he hoped that her transition into her new role would be smooth, that she was spared the pain of the loneliness and heartbreak that had become his constancy.
Which, of course, wasn’t helped by the fact that he had bedded her when he should have kept her at a safe distance—for her sake and for his.
His eyes roamed over Isabel. She was wearing his braes again, along with his favourite dark blue tunic, which was far too big for her. Grinning, she twisted, turned and skipped around as the little dog jumped at her feet, barking merrily and trying to get the wooden stick from her hand as waves lapped at her bare feet.
The light sea breeze played with her glorious gold-and-honey-coloured hair, which she had tried in vain to tie up. Stray tendrils fell and danced across her face as she ran and laughed with such free abandon, chased by her four-legged friend.
His chest clenched tightly...
God, but she was lovely. She was everything joyous and wondrous in the world.
He remembered how, only a short time ago, he was running his fingers through her hair, feeling its softness against his skin, taking in the heady floral scent. It had cascaded in soft waves over the curve of her shoulders, down her back to skim her waist as she had sat in front of him, baring her nakedness.
Isabel noticed him then and she lifted her head, meeting his eyes. Her small smile was shy as she held up her hand in greeting, her cheeks tinting a deeper blush colour that spread across and down her neck.
He returned her smile, keeping his eyes pinned to hers as he continued to amble towards her.
Will might have no right to her, but he’d be damned if he regretted his night with Isabel de Clancey. He shouldn’t have done it. It would have been better if he hadn’t, but regret their intimacies? That he could never do. Besides, hadn’t he told her just hours ago not to hold on to regrets?
Yet, how to proceed?
‘Well met, my lady.’ He bent low to stroke the excitable dog dancing at his feet. ‘I hope to find that you’re well rested.’
‘Good morrow and, no, not so much. How about you?’
‘Aye.’ He straightened his spine to stand to his full height, looking down at her. ‘But not enough.’
She looked everywhere but at him. ‘And have you broken your fast?’
‘Yes, my thanks for what you left behind...and also for these...’
Will opened his hand to reveal the purple petals that she had decorated the table with and watched as her colour deepened.
She shrugged. ‘Just a little fanciful whimsy.’
‘Which was gratefully appreciated.’
She looked everywhere but at him again.
‘You’ve got a little sand on your face there. No, not there...’ He reached out and brushed it off.
They descended into an uncomfortable silence as they both pondered what to say next. The hypnotic sound of waves filled the quietness as it ebbed and flowed, dousing the sand. Thank God the sea was calm for their pending sea voyage today.
Her Banished Knight's Redemption--The follow-up to award-winning story the Rebel Heiress and the Knight Page 15