by Alexa Aston
“Still,” she pleaded, “I wish to learn how to defend myself. I beg of you to teach me. Oh, I know I’m not strong enough to wield a sword. But mayhap if I had a small dagger. Or if I knew how to fend off an attacker so I could protect myself and those around me.”
Raynor laughed.
“I am serious, my lord.”
He held back a smile. “I know you are. All right. I’ll do as you ask. I’ll teach you a few tricks. I’ll find a baselard that you can keep on you and instruct you in how to use it. If that will make you feel better, then I am at your disposal.”
Beatrice relaxed, happy to have him honor her request. She still felt guilty over not having been able to save Tolly. She would take to heart whatever Raynor taught her and hope she never had to use it.
“Greetings, Lady Beatrice. Brother.”
Her head jerked up at the words. Peter Le Roux stood before them. Gone was the disheveled man she had met earlier this afternoon. The baron had shaved and wore new clothing. She noticed the resemblance between the brothers more now, but Raynor still outshone his brother in every way.
“Good evening, Peter,” Raynor said. “I am glad you could join us. I would like you to meet—”
“No need for introductions, Raynor. I have met the bewitching lady.” He swept a hand across as he looked out over the room. “And I now bear witness to the transformation of the great hall at her hands.”
Peter turned and gave Beatrice a knowing smile. “I believed you could work wonders and so you have.”
“Where did you meet?” Raynor asked.
“In my bedchamber.”
Raynor leapt to his feet.
“I saved the solar for last as I toured the keep this afternoon. I was deciding how to freshen up the room when Lord Peter entered, and I introduced myself to him,” she said quickly.
Humor sparkled in Peter’s eyes. “Aye, Lady Beatrice certainly put me in my place.”
Beatrice’s cheeks burned. “I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to offend you.”
“Oh, I think you fully intended to insult me. Even jolt me into action.” He shrugged. “It did the trick. After my conversation with Lady Beatrice, I am a new man.”
“You certainly look more like the brother I once knew,” Raynor noted as he sat again. “I’m happy you’ve come to the great hall for the evening meal. The people need to see you.”
“Aye, Lady Beatrice chastised me for that, as well. She let me know how derelict I’d become in my duties. I intend to change all that.”
Peter’s eyes lingered on her. He came to sit on her other side. She was now dwarfed by the Le Roux brothers and felt quite small.
The same servant from before rushed over and brought a cup of wine for the baron. He nodded his thanks as she scurried off.
“Tell me, Brother, when do you plan to escort the lady north?”
“In a few weeks, Peter. I want to see that the harvest is in good shape and that the soldiers are, once more, a disciplined unit. Why?”
“I wish to accompany you on this journey.”
“Why would you choose to do so?” Raynor asked.
“Because I have decided to marry Lady Beatrice. I’ll need to see about breaking the marriage contract with her betrothed.”
Chapter 13
Anger flooded Raynor—as well as jealousy—for not having thought to do the same. “Are you mad, Peter?”
Beatrice sprang to her feet, her eyes downcast and her face beet red. “Excuse me, my lords.” She lifted her skirts and raced from the great hall as if the room had caught fire.
Raynor watched her go and then faced his brother. “I demand to know why you wish to pursue the lady.”
Peter’s features softened. “She is like no other woman I’ve ever met. I’d grown discontented these past few years. I had no interest in my life or those around me. Yet, one encounter with Lady Beatrice altered my perspective. She spoke to me as no one has dared to, calling me out for my lack of leadership. Suddenly, I could clearly see all the possibilities and opportunities available to me because of her words.”
His voice dropped. “It’s odd to even say this, but she made me want to be a better man. For her. For those around me. And for myself.”
Raynor knew what Peter meant because he felt exactly the same.
He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I have not known her long, but I do know that she is a principled woman, Peter. Her parents are deceased. She is to go to her husband-to-be. I’m happy to have the brother back I’ve missed, but I beg of you. Don’t force her into an awkward situation. Let her journey to Brookhaven and meet her obligations there when she arrives.”
When his brother didn’t speak, Raynor squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “She is as good as married because of her betrothal. You must not try to force her union to be dissolved on a whim.”
Peter threw off his hand. “My feelings for Lady Beatrice are not merely a whim.” His eyes narrowed. “If I cannot have her, I want no other woman. Do you hear me? I want to be left alone!” The baron’s angry outburst drew the eyes of everyone present as he stormed from the great hall.
Raynor understood his brother’s dilemma, but he would do his duty and fulfill his promise to escort Beatrice to Sir Henry’s and leave her in good hands.
And then? Raynor would never divorce himself from the world as Peter had, though he knew no joy would be found without Beatrice in his life.
A servant served his meal without comment. He realized that Beatrice had left before eating. As he ate a few bites, the food tasted like sand in his mouth. Raynor decided to take the meal to her. She had labored long and hard today and needed to eat in order to keep up her strength. Motioning a servant over, he asked for a tray of food he could take upstairs.
Within minutes, it was ready for him. Raynor slipped from the great hall and carried the tray to her bedchamber. He hesitated to knock, afraid he would find her in tears. Poor Beatrice had been through so much since he’d stumbled upon her.
Rapping on the door, he received no answer. He knocked harder a second time. Still, she didn’t come to the door. Concerned, he stepped inside the chamber.
Beatrice was seated in a chair by the only window. She’d combed her hair out and seemed lost in thought as she hummed softly to herself. Her beauty humbled him and he didn’t know what to say.
He had tender feelings for this woman and truly admired her spirit and quick temper. Raynor’s gut wrenched painfully. The temptation of Beatrice Bordel dangling before him like forbidden fruit, forever unable to touch her, nearly brought Raynor to his knees.
She spotted him.
“Are you well?” he asked, closing the door behind him. “I must apologize for my brother’s strange behavior. He truly hasn’t been himself since he lost his wife and child.”
“I promise you, my lord, that I didn’t encourage Lord Peter in any way. I’m confused how this came about. One minute, I lost my temper and chastised him for his neglect of Ashcroft and its people. The next, he asked for my hand in marriage.”
She stood, distress marring her lovely features. “I explained to him that I was betrothed. He must be mad to think Sir Henry would consider breaking the marriage contract.” She paused. “I don’t want him on our journey north, my lord. I cannot have him barge into Brookhaven demanding to set aside the contract. Can you see to that?”
“I already have,” Raynor assured her as he fought the urge to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless. More than anything, he wished to be the man who stormed into Brookhaven and demanded the contract be cancelled so they could find the nearest priest and get married, then consummate their union.
Yet, what did he have to offer Beatrice? Nothing. Peter was the Baron of Ashcroft, holding both the land and title. Even if, by some miracle, Raynor could break the betrothal contract and Beatrice was free to marry him, how could he bring her back to Ashcroft and flaunt their marriage before his brother? Nothing would be more uncomfortable than having Peter constantly watc
h Beatrice as a hungry cat did a mouse.
Raynor worried about Peter’s instability. The swings from isolating himself for long spells to this wild talk of sweeping aside Beatrice’s betrothal and marrying her—then proclaiming he wanted to be left alone again. Mayhap Beatrice did need to learn how to protect herself. He couldn’t be by her side all the time. What if Peter came across her and forced himself upon her? Though the thought pained him, Raynor realized he no longer trusted his brother.
Raising the tray he carried, he said, “I brought you something to eat.” He placed it on a nearby table. “And I haven’t forgotten your request. We should arrange a time for your lessons.”
Before he could suggest they start immediately, Beatrice yawned. Tonight wasn’t the time to teach her how to defend herself after such a long, tiring day.
“I’ll be working with the men in the training yard all day tomorrow. I’ve invited soldiers from a neighboring estate to spar with us two days from now. I must make sure Ashcroft’s soldiers are prepared and can best Lord Harper’s men.”
“What about after that, my lord?” she asked.
“That’s when we’ll make time for your instruction. I know your days have been busy, but surely you can set aside an hour for me. Plan on it in three days’ time. You can eat a light meal at midday and then we can meet afterward. It won’t take long to show you a few ways to defend yourself, even without the use of a weapon.”
Beatrice rewarded him with a sweet smile. “Very well. I shall be happy for you to tutor me then.”
Raynor drank in one last look. “Good night, my lady.”
He left her, knowing that she would remain with him in his dreams that night.
*
Beatrice was pleased with how productive the morning had been. Many of the herbs collected over the past few days had been dried, labeled, and stored. She’d left two servants to finish the job and had gone to supervise the candle making with the remaining women. It would take the rest of today and another one to finish up that task since the Ashcroft supply was dangerously low. Once completed, she would have all the servants begin work on cleaning the occupied chambers.
She caught sight of Raynor standing in the doorway of the great hall and signaled for him to go upstairs since today had been designated for her defense lessons. Beatrice charged Hilda with directing the women while she was gone and then proceeded to follow Raynor, who waited for her at the top of the staircase.
“I’d rather we work without others watching,” she told him. “I don’t wish it to be known what I attempt.”
“I agree. The training yard is the last place you need to be. Your beauty would be a distraction to the soldiers. If we ventured out to the training yard, the men wouldn’t be able to concentrate on their maneuvers.”
Beatrice tried to brush aside her embarrassment.
“There are two empty chambers down the hall we can use,” she told him.
She led them to the larger of the two. Raynor closed the door behind them.
“Did you bring a dagger for me?” she asked. “I am eager to learn how to use one.”
He chuckled. “We will save weapons for another day. I will show you many things you can do to ward off a man.”
He pointed to his face. “A man is most vulnerable ’round his eyes and nose. If you feel threatened, you must strike quickly to weaken him. As for you, my lady, your weapons will be your elbows, knees, and forehead, for they are stronger than you know.”
Raynor closed the gap between them. “If you are seated next to a man and believe you are in danger, stiffen your neck.” He knelt down so he was closer to her in height.
Beatrice did as he asked. “But what good will this do, my lord?”
“Drive your forehead into the center of my face. Not with force, but try it slowly.”
She kept her neck taut and as if nodding, tilted her head back and then lowered her forehead down to his nose. The minute they connected, she felt a quickening of her heart and drew back.
“Your forehead is very sturdy,” he continued, “whereas, a nose is not. If you slam your forehead into your enemy’s nose, he won’t expect a vigorous blow, least of all from a woman. He’ll find it difficult to act, especially if you’ve broken it. Try it again, as before.”
She repeated the motion several times, bringing her forehead down against his nose until she felt comfortable with the movement. Raynor praised her effort.
“If a man clutches his broken nose, then it’s time for you to run. In fact, anytime you strike a blow, my best advice is to lift your skirts and dash away while your attacker is incapacitated.”
He cupped her face with his large hands. Beatrice held her breath in anticipation, thinking he was about to kiss her again.
Instead, he turned his thumbs and brought them toward her eyes. She flinched and closed her lids as his thumbs gently rested atop them. They remained that way until he removed them.
Beatrice opened her eyes, puzzled.
“Now do the same to me.”
She raised her hands to his face and repeated what he had done. As the pads of her thumbs covered his eyelids, Raynor said, “You can blind a man if you gouge his eyes out.”
She squealed and yanked her hands away. “Nay! I cannot do that!”
He laughed. “Your safety is what is important, my lady. If you fear for your life, you must go for his eyes. What does it matter if an attacker can no longer see you? You must do whatever it takes to protect yourself.”
Beatrice understood that Raynor was only trying to help her, though she doubted she would ever be able to carry through with such violence. “How else might I protect myself, my lord?” she asked.
Raynor thought a moment. “If you are near enough, you many punch a man’s throat. It is a certain way to render him powerless.” He took her hands in his, causing a ripple of heat to travel down her arms.
“Place your thumb here, against my Adam’s apple. This is the very spot you would hit.”
Beatrice removed her fingers from his throat. She wished she could place them on it again. This time, she would stroke it lovingly. She shook her head and told herself to concentrate as Raynor began to speak again.
“Another sensitive spot on a man is his groin.”
Her eyes flew to his.
“I would suggest thrusting your knee into it as hard as you can. A man will double over. In fact, while he’s bent over, lift your knee high and smash it into his nose. He won’t know where to comfort himself.”
“Then run,” she added.
“Yes,” he smiled. “Try it. Slowly.”
Raynor had her practice the move several times. She swung her knee toward him and then pretended to smash his nose as before, her cheeks flaming.
“Excellent. Now turn around,” he instructed.
Beatrice did as he asked. Raynor wrapped himself about her, his left arm going firmly around her waist while his right hand covered her mouth. He yanked her tightly against him.
Her insides lit up. Need throbbed between her thighs.
His lips grazed her ear, and she shivered uncontrollably.
“If you’re pinned in such a way where you cannot use your arms or scream and draw attention to yourself, then stomp your heel into your attacker’s foot. Try it.”
Beatrice heard his words, but she found it hard to react.
“I know,” he said when she failed to move. “Being trapped in such a way can be terrifying. Raise your foot. No, not that high. Just one fluid motion.”
She tried again, her pulse beating wildly, and drove her heel into his foot without pretense. She heard him gasp as he released her. She faced him, curious to see his reaction to what she’d done.
Raynor grimaced and limped a few steps away from her. “That’s good. Your natural instinct to protect yourself came through, my lady.”
“But I hurt you. I am sorry.”
He shrugged. “A small price to pay to know that you learned that particular lesson.” He paused. “Let�
��s try one last thing before we’re done for the day.”
She felt awful that she’d hurt him—but all she wanted was to be caught up in his arms again.
Raynor approached her carefully. “I’m going to place my hands around your throat. Is that all right?”
Beatrice nodded.
His fingers moved to her throat. Instantly, they burned against her skin. She met his gaze, reading the need on his face.
“If someone has you by the throat and they are choking you, you’ll faint quickly. If this happens, you must think fast and act accordingly.”
Raynor applied pressure to her throat.
“Kick his shins as hard as you can. Grab hold of my arms. That will give you some leverage.”
Beatrice held on to his arms.
“When you kick, never use your toes. You might break them and ’twould be hard to run away if you did.”
She swung her leg back and then followed through in slow motion, allowing her foot to brush across his kneecap.
“Again,” Raynor commanded.
Beatrice repeated the move several times.
“Excellent,” he told her, smiling down at her.
Slowly, he began to stroke her throat with his thumbs. Beatrice wanted to melt. Without a conscious thought, she locked her fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer.
At the last minute, his eyes widened as he realized what she meant to do. But it was too late. Beatrice’s lips brushed against his.
And the world caught on fire.
Chapter 14
The smell of roses invaded Raynor’s nose as his lips pressed against Beatrice’s. He had always thought of himself as a strong man, both physically and mentally. Yet, any resolve he had disappeared when he came near this woman. Everything he knew himself to be changed in an instant.
There was only here—now—with her.
He cradled her face as his tongue ran along the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth to him. As desire burned deep within his belly, he drank in her essence.
Beatrice whimpered. The sound pleased him immensely. His hands moved to the nape of her neck. Her breasts pressed against his chest, causing his manhood to stir.