Mistress of Her Fate

by Byrne, Julia

  ’Twas only an illusion, she told herself. Rafe had probably spoken in general terms, but why not dream just once? What could it hurt? She was alone and tired and ’twould comfort her.

  After all, a dream couldn’t harm her if she indulged it for only a little while.

  * * *

  Arms that were warm and strong enfolded her. Hands that were powerful but gentle stroked her hair, brushing sleep-tousled strands from her face.

  Half-asleep, her eyes still closed, she made a small sound of pleasure and nestled closer to the warmth.

  “Nell.”

  She murmured wordlessly and burrowed her head into the firm pillow beneath her cheek.

  “Sweetheart. Wake up.”

  “Nay,” she mumbled. Loathe to relinquish her dream to the insistent voice trying to drag her back to reality, she spread her fingers so she could cling tighter to the bed—and frowned. “Furry.”

  “God damn it, woman, will you wake up! I am not made of stone!”

  The command, delivered in an under-voice but no less effective for that, jolted her out of sleep. Her eyes flew open to fasten on a sight that made her heart stand still. In the very faintest lifting of the darkness she could just make out the interior of the hut. All was as it should be—except she was no longer alone in the bed.

  Worse. She was lying all over the bed’s other occupant, her legs tangled with his, her head resting on the hard pad of muscle on his shoulder, and…

  Merciful saints! Her fingers were buried in the dark pelt covering his chest.

  The only thing that stopped her screaming in panic was the realization that they were still partially clothed. She in her shift, he in his hose and undershirt. The undershirt didn’t cover much; its front lacing was undone more than halfway to his waist.

  “Rafe?”

  “Who else were you expecting?” he growled.

  She flinched and tried to move away.

  “Nay.” His arms tightened and he tipped her face up to his. “Forget I said that, princess. The past is over and the future what we make of it. Once we get out of this bed,” he added wryly.

  “I…don’t think I can move,” she faltered. “We seem to be all tangled up.”

  Not as tangled up as we’re going to be if I don’t get out of here, Rafe thought, trying to remember why he couldn’t take Nell here and now. The reason seemed to be lost somewhere in a mind that could only think of one thing. The need that had grown to painful proportions since he’d woken to find Nell, soft and warm and tantalizing, lying all over him.

  Rafe shifted slightly and felt her tremble as her thigh slid between his and was trapped there. “I see what you mean,” he managed. His voice sounded rough even to his own ears. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. Fortunately, in a situation like this, I can do the moving for both of us.”

  “What—” she began, only to break off with a startled gasp as powerful muscles surged beneath her. Before she could blink she was on her back. And just as imprisoned as before. Rafe propped himself on one forearm and looked down at her. The heat and size of him held her completely spellbound.

  Her gaze dropped to her hand which, inexplicably, was still attached to his chest. By all the laws of nature it should have fallen away when Rafe turned her, but, instead, her fingers were threading through the dark whorls of hair as if they had a life of their own. She felt the small nub of a male nipple beneath her little finger and stroked it curiously.

  His breath hissed between his teeth. “You’re playing with fire, princess.”

  “Will it warm me?” she whispered.

  She spoke more to herself than to Rafe, but he heard her. Her gaze lifted as he made a rough sound in his throat, her eyes widening when she took in the breadth of his shoulders, the beautifully muscled contours of his chest, the sheer maleness of him.

  “Warm you?” he repeated hoarsely. “God in heaven, ’twill burn us both.” Thrusting his fingers into her hair, he lowered his head and took her mouth with his.

  Ohhhh.

  If she’d been able to she would have moaned aloud. His mouth was hot and demanding, and she knew she’d been wanting this since he’d kissed her two nights ago. Heat. Life. She needed it, needed his strength, his touch, his taste.

  She slid her hands upward and wreathed her arms about his neck, clinging, needing him closer. And this time, this time, he gave her what she needed. He shifted, his arms going under her back to arch her into his body as he moved to cover her completely.

  She made a soft, whimpering sound of pleasure as she felt his weight crush her into the bed. The kiss changed, becoming hotter, deeper, his tongue stroking over hers again and again in a slow invasion and retreat until she began to respond, shyly at first, with tiny, darting touches that made him groan softly and tighten his hold, until she was utterly lost to sensation.

  He lifted his weight slightly and began caressing her, stroking his hand from shoulder to hip, returning upward to trace the indentation of her waist, the delicacy of her ribs. Heat bloomed and ran before his touch. Her breasts flushed, tingled, grew heavy. She moved restlessly, her mouth soft and yielding beneath his, wanting…wanting…

  Then he closed his hand over one aching breast, his thumb finding and stroking the velvety tip, and she almost fainted under the torrent of pleasure sweeping through her.

  “God, you’re sweet,” he whispered. “So sweet and soft.” He pressed hot kisses down her throat, nudging aside her shift, and she moved again, her hips lifting in an instinctive rhythm that echoed the pulse deep inside her.

  “Rafe,” she breathed, scarcely able to speak. She felt dazed, stunned by the force of her own need.

  “I know.” He raised his head, his gaze searching hers in the dawn light beginning to creep into the hut. “I didn’t expect this,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t expect you.”

  She trembled under the impact of the fierce desire in his eyes. Somewhere in a distant corner of her mind a warning bell was trying to make itself heard, but ’twas silenced when he pulled the ties of her shift free and opened the garment to her waist with one sweeping movement of his hand.

  She felt his touch on her bare flesh for the first time, the heat and weight of his hand, the slight roughness of his fingertips. She arched wildly, her breath splintering into mindless little cries.

  But the sound of her own response startled her, shocking her into an abrupt awareness of what was happening. This was passion. This sweet, melting weakness; this breathless, mounting excitement; this need to give herself completely into Rafe’s keeping, to trust him as she had trusted no other man, to let him lead her into the unknown world of desire. But there was something she had to remember…

  “Nell, sweetheart, I want you. I want you until I’m half mad with it.”

  The urgent words were muttered against her throat, his hands caressed her breasts. Streamers of fire unravelled and spread to the soft hidden flesh between her legs, but now she was torn, confused. Wanting him, but—

  She turned her head restlessly and forced her eyes open, struggling to understand the sudden conflict within her.

  And in the ray of light streaming through the unshuttered window she saw Bess lying asleep on her pallet.

  Heat and desire leached out of her in an instant. She froze, just as Rafe slid his hand down over her stomach and into the soft nest below.

  “Rafe, nay—”

  “’Tis all right,” he said huskily. “I won’t hurt you. Oh, God, you’re so soft.”

  “We can’t! Stop!” She tried to move his hand, tugging frantically at his wrist, but his fingers caressed her warm womanflesh and she gasped in shock at the intimate invasion.

  “Nay!” Desperate, torn between fear and the pulsing of newly-aroused desire, she began to fight him in earnest.

  “Hell’s teeth!” He lifted his head, the gold fire in his eyes clear now in the morning light. The weight of his body subdued her struggles without effort. “You want this as much as I do,” he grated. “You cannot deny i
t when I’m touching you like this.”

  “We can’t! Bess!”

  He went still, his eyes blazing down at her for a searing instant before his gaze flashed to the other side of the room. He bit off a single vicious word, his teeth coming together with a snap that was audible. In a slow movement that she felt in every quivering nerve-ending, he withdrew his hand. His powerful chest expanded with the deep breath he drew in, then he pushed away from her and got to his feet.

  Bending, he snatched his surcoat and boots off the floor and strode over to the door. He jerked it open and looked back, his gaze slicing down the length of her body in the second before she managed to grab the blanket and pull it over her semi-nakedness.

  “A good thing you remembered we’re not alone, princess,” he said softly. “But God help us both if I get that close again and you stop me.”

  The door was shut behind him with a restraint that spoke louder than any words, leaving her with her first taste of frustrated desire, and a desolation that went as deep as her soul.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  By midday the green forests and meadows of the Avon valley had given way to the foothills of the Mendips.

  Rafe kept to the high country as they travelled further south, avoiding the narrow valleys formed by the outcrops of limestone that reared skyward in craggy, bracken-clad splendor.

  The scenery was magnificent, but at one point the land fell away so sharply Nell couldn’t look down at the valley floor far below, it’s cool, green dimness scarcely touched by the pale grey light of the cloudy afternoon.

  The dizzy heights didn’t seem to bother Rafe at all. Over the past couple of hours he’d left her several times to seek an even higher point where he could scan the land behind and around them.

  Lost in thoughts that were none too happy, she didn’t noticed his vigilance at first. After all, there was no sign of human habitation on these rocky, windswept crags. But when Rafe reined in yet again to sweep the hills and valleys with his narrowed hawk-like gaze, she, too, looked back, uneasiness feathering over her skin.

  The land seemed empty, and yet there was life and movement here on the uplands. The brushing of the breeze through gorse and bracken, the chatter of jackdaws, the keening cries of two kestrels high above her as they rode the wind currents in effortless, soaring flight. Somewhere, nearby but invisible, water trickled over rock, and she heard a rustle as some small creature fled from their presence.

  The kestrels shimmered and blurred and Nell squeezed her eyes shut, realizing she was staring so hard at the sky her eyes were watering. Then saddle leather creaked close by and she opened them again.

  “Stay away from the cliff edge,” Rafe said, nudging Samson into a walk. “These hills are like a honeycomb, full of caves and hollows where the rock has given way.”

  It was the first remark he’d directed to her after his exit from the hut, but he didn’t seem angry, she thought, suddenly recalling the long, considering glances he’d been casting at her during the morning. He appeared more lost in thought, as she was herself.

  The strange malaise hanging over her since they’d said farewell to Bess and Richard loosened its grip. She brought Rufus up closer and tried a tentative smile.

  “I remember my mother telling me stories of such caves. Caverns like underground halls and castles where fairies ruled their kingdoms and sailed their boats on magical lakes and rivers.”

  Rafe smiled faintly. “Those stories live forever in these parts. Like the tales of King Arthur.”

  “But he truly lived, did he not? Some say he will come again when England is in danger, and others have seen his hounds drinking at the well at Cadbury before following the King along the ancient road to Glastonbury.”

  “Hmm.” He watched her as she glanced back with an involuntary shiver. “Something tells me you preferred scaring yourself with tales of ghosts rather than listening to fairy stories when you were a child.”

  “I confess that the possibility of ghostly hounds appearing on our path is not a comforting one,” she said. “Even in full light of day.”

  “That is why you have a bodyguard, princess. But if it makes you feel better—” He reached into his surcoat and withdrew her crucifix. “I will return this.”

  “Oh! Thank you.” She slipped the chain over her head. “I’d forgotten…”

  Having several other matters on her mind all morning.

  He looked at her closely for a moment and she fought to keep her expression serene. Silence fell again, but this time she made no attempt to break it. What was there to say? Why were you in my bed? Why do I wish we were there still, and alone?

  Embarrassed heat flooded her face when she remembered the way Rafe had touched her, and her abandoned response to his touch. She gritted her teeth and shoved the memory away. She ought to be able to put the whole episode out of her mind, as he seemed to have done.

  Aye, and if you can manage that, Arthur will appear right this minute and dance a measure with his hounds.

  A sharp yearning stabbed at her heart. She would never forget how it felt to lie in Rafe’s arms. Never forget the touch of his hands on her body. Never, as long as she lived.

  But would Rafe remember after he left her? She gazed at him, wondering about his thoughts. He had made arrangements with Richard and the others to meet him at his manor as soon as the wounded could travel, but for her it seemed a dream and a memory would be all she would have.

  It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

  On the heels of that knowledge, he turned and caught her gaze. She flushed and looked away.

  “Nell?”

  “I was just wondering why you’ve been looking behind us ever since we started riding over these mountains,” she said hastily. “I see no sign of pursuit.”

  “They’re hills, and you wouldn’t.” Without warning, he reined Samson in and reached out to catch Rufus’s bridle when she would have ridden past him.

  “Nell—” His voice was curt. “I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean that to happen.”

  Hurt lanced though her, sharp and cutting.

  “Well, I dare say ’twould not have happened if you hadn’t climbed into bed with me. However, there is no need to apologize. I know only too well how easily men succumb to lust, and would suggest that tonight you seek your own—”

  “I wasn’t the only one succumbing to lust, princess. And I was in your bed in case some of the other men took it into their heads to hold you to ransom. Or worse.”

  “Oh, I see. You were there to protect me. Thank you. How foolish of me not to realize—”

  “God damn it, will you kindly desist. You were so exhausted last night you wouldn’t have known I was there at all if I hadn’t woken to find your hands all over me!”

  “What! I was asleep!”

  “I knew that. It didn’t help.”

  “Well…well…” Excuses tumbled wildly about in her head. “You could have kept your shirt laced.”

  “It was laced when I fell asleep. But it didn’t stay that way for long when your little fingers got busy.”

  Nell wondered if anyone had ever died of embarrassment. The possibility that she was about to do so was all too real. Holy Mother, she had never undressed a man when she was awake. How in the name of all the saints had she done it while asleep? Did she have the instincts of a courtesan, after all?”

  When she thought of Rafe’s probable answer to that question, it took every ounce of resolution she possessed to look at him. “My lord, please believe—”

  “Hush.”

  “What? But—”

  “Shhh!”

  Belatedly, she realized that he was no longer looking at her. His gaze, fixed and intent, was focused on a point beyond her. She turned her head. Nothing seemed to be moving in the rugged landscape.

  “Do you see those horsemen on the road below us?” he asked.

  At first she didn’t see anything, but as her eyes narrowed against the distance, she made out a gr
oup of riders, appearing then vanishing as the road snaked through the valley. “Aye.”

  “Do you recognize any of them?”

  She frowned. “They’re too far away to tell. I don’t—” She stopped, her breath catching on a gasp.

  “Your uncle’s stallion,” Rafe said at the same time. “With Tom on its back. Your cousin must be more of a dolt than you thought, princess. He should be at least thirty miles ahead of us by now, not bringing up the rear.”

  “Unless he’s going straight to Wells as you said he might.” So much for her brilliant idea of avoiding pursuit.

  “The same thing applies. If Wells was his destination he should have been and gone long ago. ’Tis more likely he stopped at every town and inn along the way to make enquiries.”

  “If he did that,” she observed tartly, “he would have stopped long enough for a drink. Several drinks.”

  “Hell’s fiends. Well, ’tis no use bemoaning the fact. Whatever he stopped for, yesterday’s fair was right in his path. Damn it to the pit.”

  She stared at him in dismay. “Do you think…?”

  “I don’t think. I know. Richard sent a man out at dawn to make sure Ned and his fellows had made themselves scarce. He tracked them as far as the town, and what do you think was the main topic for gossip this morning, princess?” He fixed her with a flint-eyed stare. “The mysterious lady who caused several of the town’s good citizens to spend last night in the castle cells.”

  “Oh.” Nell bit her lip. Obviously there was no end to her crimes.

  “Aye. I’m glad you’re finally beginning to comprehend the seriousness of the situation. Even Tom can figure out that if he’s so close to us after the lead we had, it means we’re probably in Wells or nearby.”

  “But we’re not. At least, not yet. Couldn’t we let them pass us and—”

  Rafe shook his head, his gaze returning to the group of riders. “Possibly, but once Tom is in Wells he has enough men to send them out in any direc—”