Knight Secrets

by C. C. Wiley

  “None taken,” she replied.

  “And you’ll not be at your best if she’s out of your sight,” Darrick said. “Besides, what better way to draw out our prey than to have two tasty morsels in front of his nose?”

  “Damn, but I have to admit he has a point,” Nathan acknowledged. “’Tis better to have Robert’s mind set on you than on the king.”

  Clarice looked at her hand trapped against Ranulf’s chest. His heart raced when they spoke of her family’s name tied to her own. His fingers tightened and released. Now they lay lightly. Disconnected from emotion. The rhythm in his chest matched his calm breath. Indifference had returned to his eyes. Yet he could not contain the growl deep in his throat. “I protect what is mine.”

  “Silence, my wolf. I’ve no fear of your ability to protect me.”

  * * *

  Clarice rode beside Ranulf. Buttercup’s steady pace carried her through the Margrave gates. She turned back to look at the tower spire. The tip of its gray point could be seen over the trees.

  “Maud and Erwina are like birds of a feather,” he assured her. “Before you know it, Maud will have her fill of Erwina’s meat pies. And Erwina will be satisfied that Maud’s health is returning.”

  “Do you think they’ll be safe?”

  “Sergeant Krell will see the ladies are protected.”

  “And Hamish?”

  “He rides with two of the king’s most trusted men.”

  A firm line formed Ranulf’s mouth. “Nathan and Hamish will alert our men to break camp.”

  “And Robert—”

  “Robert’s man, Harald, said he would be heading for Southampton. He intends to stop the king’s fleet before they set sail for France. Darrick rides ahead to alert them.” Ranulf reined in Aldwyn and drew beside her. “We must be wary, Clarice. Harald believes Robert may delay his plan if it means capturing you.”

  An uncomfortable silence hung between them like a heavy, wet cloak.

  “If ’tis I Robert cannot resist, then let us entice the beast into our lair. Stake me out like a goat for the taking.”

  Ranulf groaned. “I swore you would be safe in my care.”

  Sliding his hand up Clarice’s arm, he cupped the back of her neck and drew her face to his. The lines around her mouth softened as his lips sought hers.

  He smoothed the hair that always seemed to escape whatever confines she created. “This beast wants us both.”

  “Mary?” she whispered.

  A pained look, one of haunted guilt flickered over his face as if marked by her ghost. “My wife,” Ranulf said. “Erwina admitted she had seen him visit her while I was away on Henry’s business.”

  “Then let’s see that his hunger is satisfied.”

  Ranulf eased her off Buttercup and onto his lap. She handed him her reins and settled her head against his chest. Aware of his desire, she pressed her back deeper into the angle of his thighs.

  He bent his head, nipping the hinge of her jaw. “Keep your eyes open, Clarice.”

  “Shall we ride much farther? I—” She groaned and rocked back as he slipped his hand between the folds of her cloak.

  “Watch the horizon for me.” His hand roamed to her breasts.

  “Ranulf,” she whispered. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  Her eyes snapped open the moment he withdrew his touch. She shivered. Where heat once flamed, the trail was cold. A wall of ice slid between their bodies. She tried to turn to see his face.

  “What is it? Is it Robert?”

  “Quiet,” he hissed.

  They rode in silence. The distance between them grew with every step away from Margrave. Clarice could not understand why he would pull away. Was it not she who said she could wait no longer?

  Her heart skipped. Dread leaped in. That was not what she had said. Had he misunderstood?

  His loins continued to press against her. She was aware of the life that throbbed in his veins. His hand settled at her waist and rested there, as if she were the pommel of a saddle. Her nerves jangled with every step. Need blossomed, pouring through her body, threatening to ignite like dry tinder.

  By the time the stars had begun to form overhead, frustration whispered on her skin. It hid just barely below the surface until she realized she was rubbing her back against his chest and taking deeper breaths so that his thumb might touch the base of her breasts. She turned her face to feign sleep and found her arousal increasing when she smelled his scent. Yet, despite her hunger, they rode on in silent agony.

  Chapter 35

  Clarice let her gaze sweep over the horizon as she smoothed Aldwyn’s slick, dark shoulder. “I don’t understand why we must stop so soon. The sun hasn’t moved position since the last time.”

  Receiving a nudge with his hand, she ignored his offer to lift her from the saddle. “We shall never make it to Southampton at this pace.”

  She arched a brow at Ranulf’s grunted response and continued with her examination of his face. “That is where we are headed, is it not? Or won’t you admit our destination?” Her lips pursed. She found his silence most distasteful. “Is it because I am a Margrave?”

  She pushed his hand away, slid off Aldwyn, and walked into the grove of oak trees. She would have preferred the long walk back to the manor house than spend another moment sitting next to such an unbearable man. Her wobbly knees had a different notion altogether and refused to budge another step past a group of felled trees. Although she heard Ranulf call to her, she decided to keep her back to him and continued to scan the shadows dancing under the canopy of green vegetation.

  Ranulf ran to her and caught her elbow. “You are not to take yourself out of my sight.” He pointed to a fallen log. “Stay here. Without argument.”

  Hiding a grimace, her back straight and rigid, she turned from the tree and chose a different one. After straightening her skirts, she folded her hands as if she had been waiting for his presence all day. She drew a long-suffering sigh that would have made Annora cringe.

  “’Tis ridiculous,” she snapped. “All that I have been through to prove I am who I say I am, and now I am punished because of it.”

  Ranulf’s shoulders bunched as he cared for their horses.

  Guilt nipped at her conscience. ’Twas unlike her to act the petty fool. However, he was not helping the matter. If he chose to treat her with disregard, then she would be obliged to show him disdain, too.

  Despite her vow to dispatch all her feeling for this man, she watched him move about the clearing and wondered what had put him in such a bilious mood. She had to find a way to breach the wall he had erected between them.

  Even though the warmth of the sun penetrated the canopy of leaves, she shivered, aching for what they had shared in times past. She could not retreat from the passion he kept hidden. ’Twas a rare sight to behold in this man. Indeed, she had discovered he cared with alarming passion. I ache for those brief, breathless moments.

  * * *

  Ranulf tied off the horses and began to gather dry sticks. Clarice’s concern grew with each addition of kindling. He intended they stop for the remainder of the evening. They would not arrive in time to speak with the king.

  He smiled and motioned for her to join him by the fire. When she did not heed his request, he gave up on his self-imposed silence. “You cannot intend to keep your perch all night.”

  She pulled her spine erect. “I find this location much to my liking.” Ranulf threw the gnarled log into the meager fire. The dry wood ignited, snapping and crackling. Flames danced, entwining their tips like embracing lovers. Sparks shot out as the kindling erupted into a roaring blaze.

  Enraptured by the instant combustion, Clarice glanced up. Ranulf stood before the flames, surrounded by its ginger-colored glow. Smoke swirled above his head. Scorching heat radiated past him as if it were coming from his soul. His face remained in the shadows, but she could feel his eyes. They poured into her being, seeking the answers to his questions. Clarice tore her gaze from his. She
cleared her throat before she could speak again. “Does it not worry you that someone will see the fire?”

  Ranulf massaged the muscles of his neck. Agitated fingers ruffled the ends of his hair, where they curled against his damp skin. “Have you already forgotten your offer to be the lure for our prey?” He threw down the stick he had been holding. “Please, I beseech you, Clarice. Allow me to return you to Sedgewic before you are harmed.”

  “You of all people understand vows.”

  “But not at the cost of your life.”

  Clarice shook her head. “I cannot turn from my vow.”

  He moved to stand beside her. Worry marked his gaze. “You think it easy for me to offer you up as bait?” He lifted a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

  Clarice leaned into his caress. “My safety is a small sacrifice for the king’s.”

  His finger swooped down to the nape of her neck. He tipped her head and sought her lips. “I would that you were tucked out of harm’s way.”

  A soft sigh escaped before she nipped the corner of his mouth. “We must snare him before he harms another.”

  “I cannot stand idly by if he lays a hand upon you.”

  She raked her teeth over his jaw and down the band of muscle leading to his shoulders. “This I know,” she whispered. “I would that our snare was tripped quickly.”

  Ranulf found her lower lip with his teeth. He nipped the edges, letting his kiss dance over her flesh. Slowly, he lifted his head. “I thought you craved distance between us.”

  “A foolish misunderstanding.” She captured his shoulders with her arms. “I would that we were joined for eternity, my darling wolf.”

  Growling, he drew her to his chest.

  She gripped his hair and gave a quick tug to his auburn curls. “Dismiss that worried look on your face.”

  “Robert . . .”

  Grinning wickedly, she slid her fingers under his tunic. “’Tis also possible that devil is far from here.”

  He trapped her hand in his and shook his head. “We dare not let down our guard.”

  Clarice sighed, molding her body to his.

  “Rest.” He led her to the blanket spread between the logs. “The night may prove to be eternally long for both of us.”

  * * *

  Despite the sleepless nights and never-ending travel, sleep refused to come when Ranulf called it. Rest had officially deserted him after the partaking of their meal of roast hare. He was left to count the stars as they appeared.

  One by one, they blossomed. Their singular illumination spread across the night. Beams of light streaked across the cobalt backdrop, making a ceiling of winking diamonds. He traced the lines between the stars, forming pictures in his mind. One group of stars reminded him of Clarice’s beautiful face. He was certain he could see the laughter in her eyes.

  He resisted the urge to look to see if she really did rest her head beside him. He knew her arm would be nestled under her ear, her other hand fisted under her chin. Even in sleep ’twas as if she dared someone to try to oppose her chosen path.

  He smoothed the velvet cloak that covered her shoulders. She moved to snuggle closer. Folds of material entwined her legs.

  He shifted his seat by the fire. Worries for his king were erased by the vision at his side. He glanced up again to the sky for help. The picture of lovers traced in stars winked back as if they laughed at his efforts to push Clarice away. But how could he press his interest under these circumstances? What would she think? Would she turn him away as Mary had?

  He looked down, and Clarice pulled his head near so she might whisper in his ear. “Hold me,” she said.

  Ranulf closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasure of her bold tongue as it danced across his lips. A purr vibrated against his chest. His breath caught. He dared not lose her precious smile. It pained him when he thought of the possibility. He had given Mary everything that was his: his name, his home, his hopes for the future. He had even thought one day to give her his heart.

  Clarice pressed his palm against her breasts. Her twin mounds strained against the bodice, stretching the seams taut. “Love me,” she urged. “Love me.”

  Unsure if he had heard correctly, Ranulf lifted his head and looked into her face. “We must keep our wits about us.”

  She arched her back, searching for his touch. Warmth poured through him as she stroked his core.

  His blood drummed in his ears, drawing all his senses to focus on the passionate woman spread out for his pleasure.

  Ah, but to taste her. He nuzzled her breast and watched the nipple pebble into a bud.

  To touch her. He lifted the folds of her gown, sliding his hand up her satiny thigh, exploring the apex of her legs.

  To hear her sweet pants of pleasure. His cock swelled when she moaned softly, wiggling until he held her in his palm.

  Praising the fates that had brought this blue-eyed maiden into his life, Ranulf feasted. Nipping, then licking, he grazed his teeth over sensitive flesh. He renewed his attention to her legs, her hips, her mons. He returned to her, forearms braced, to cradle her head in his palms.

  When her grip tightened around his rod, all coherent thought left him. He drew his tunic over his head and closed his eyes, letting the heat from her hand draw him over the edge.

  “Ranulf,” she whispered against his neck. “Now.”

  Heart to heart, they scattered the moonbeams with their passion. The stars nodded and laughed overhead.

  * * *

  “And what is that star over there?”

  Clarice nestled into the crook of Ranulf’s arm. The velvet cloak angled over their legs. The blanket lay, bunched and rumpled. Her bodice hung carelessly at her waist. The hem of her skirt pillowed around her thighs. Ranulf’s bare chest and shoulders glistened under the glow of the fire.

  Ranulf placed a lingering kiss on her temple. His fingers traveled down to her breast. “North Star,” he murmured.

  “And that one?”

  She snuggled deeper into the cleft between his legs. The thrill of discovering each other still hummed through her veins. Though tender, her core was heated, wanting more of his skilled attention.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her closer and kissed the sensitive hollow by her collarbone.

  “Ranulf?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What is it? I fear you are drawing away.”

  Life returned to his burgeoning flesh, demanding she take notice. “I’m right here, love,” he whispered as he pressed another kiss to her neck. His tongue danced across her skin until he found her cleavage. There, he lingered over each breast.

  She squeezed her thighs together, testing the tenderness, wanting more. She had heard women talk of their first time with a man. Some had complained of pain. Others winked to one another, sharing the secrets of lovemaking.

  Clarice’s face flushed with desire. She recalled the smooth texture of his skin stretched taut over the layers of muscle and sinew that formed his body. It was all she could do to tamp down the urgent need to have him once again fill her completely. Her body hummed with the recent memory of their joining.

  Yet she could not let the niggling feeling that uncertainty erected a wall between them. She would not let him think she looked to force his protection.

  “Ranulf, please know that I do not ask you to sacrifice your freedom for me.” She turned in his arms and held his face when he began to deny her words. “What you have given me, I shall treasure as no other gift.” She pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing his protests. “I vow I shall not demand a price from you.”

  “Clarice,” Ranulf crushed her to his chest. “I cannot—”

  She could not bear to hear him turn her away and covered his mouth with her lips. Their heat renewed, growing with their shared kiss. The knowledge that it might be their last left a bittersweet taste on her tongue. But try as she might, she could not let him go.

  Ranulf was the first to pull away. Tension rushed through his thi
ck-banded arms, his strong hands, his long fingers. “Dress quickly.”

  Clarice’s heart ached with the rush of his cold disregard. Rearing back to argue her case, she stopped when he trapped her shoulders between his powerful hands.

  The stern look had returned to his eyes. “Obey me on this.”

  Clarice swept her hands up, separating her shoulders from his hold. Pain so deep, the like of which she had never known before, tore through her. Wide-eyed, she grasped the bodice to her chest.

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why must you . . .”

  Ranulf’s skin had paled. His eyes, fierce and strong, scoured the trees.

  Chapter 36

  Robert stepped out from the trees, a gentleman of the royal court no more. His unkempt hair stood out to the sides in a wild mess. Perspiration covered his forehead and dark streaks slashed across his face as if, in his haste, he had been whipped by tree branches and thorny brambles. In a silent twist, his jaw thrust forward.

  Clarice drew his attention. The menacing force of his hatred spread through the camp, covered the air with the scent of death. Ranulf’s hands tightened as he tried to shove her behind him.

  “No,” she hissed, digging in her heels.

  Ranulf shifted to retrieve his sword where they had been laying.

  Firelight flickered on Robert’s outstretched arm. “Hold!” He pointed his blade toward Ranulf as he moved closer. “Do you think to hide behind a woman? Don your hose so that I don’t have to look upon your filth.”

  Robert kept his distance from Ranulf as he moved closer to the rumpled blankets. He turned the edge with the toe of his boot, uncovering Ranulf’s blade. A smile twitched under Robert’s beard as he stood on the weapon. “I see that I find you at a disadvantage.”

  “That is where you are incorrect,” Ranulf said, pulling up his chausses and tying off the leather string at his waist. “I am never at a disadvantage where you are concerned.”

  “Such bravado! A courageous face indeed. Henry would be proud of his swan knight.”