by Byrne, Julia
“You have a touching, if misplaced, confidence in my control when I hold you in my arms, sweetheart.”
“In your honor,” she corrected, putting a hand up to his face. “’Tis the first side of you I fell in love with. After that, the rest was easy.”
His eyes flashed with a sudden blaze of emotion, desire and tenderness combined, and his arms tightened. “Oh, God, Nell, I didn’t know until yesterday how much you mean to me. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you, but when you went racing after those arrows—”
He shook his head and added in a low voice, “If you had been so much as bruised I would have killed every one of those men, including your cousin. I knew then that what I felt was more than desire, but I’d never let a woman get so close, never wanted to protect her with my life or trust her with my honor. I wasn’t ready to call it love, until I realized what you’d overheard. Then I knew. Sweet Jesu, how I knew! I couldn’t get up here fast enough to see how much damage was done, and when I thought I’d lost you, I went mad. All I could think of was holding on to you, showing you how it could be between us.”
“You have now,” she said, smiling mistily up at him.
“Aye, but what I should have done was shown you something else.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he sat up, reached into his surcoat pocket, and withdrew a folded sheet of parchment. She could tell by the deep creases in the paper that it was very old.
Knowledge, instinctive and immediate, filled her mind.
“You found that in the crucifix,” she said, sitting up. “It did conceal something.”
He nodded. “I found the hidden catch. This was inside the cross.” He handed the document to her. “Read it.”
She took it with some reluctance. “Rafe, I don’t need to know what secret this holds. I trust you. I didn’t mean those terrible things I said. I know you wouldn’t lie for your own gain, or to trick me into marriage. ’Twas just…hearing all the dreadful things my father did... I couldn’t imagine how anyone would not want revenge. ’Twas just too much.”
“Or not enough.” He leaned forward to brush her lips with his in a fleeting gesture of reassurance. “That’s why I want you to read it, love,” he said gently. “At first I didn’t want you to be hurt by the truth about your father, but since you heard some of it, you should know it all. We should start on an equal footing, you and I. We should both know I’m marrying you because my future is meaningless without you beside me.”
Warmth spread through her at his words. She raised eyes filled with happiness to his, then spread the parchment open and began to read.
“’Tis a confession,” she said in amazement a few seconds later. “My father’s confession, in his own hand, of all he did to rob you of your lands. The forgery of title from the Beaudenes to the fitzWarrens. The way he dismissed the servants when your mother died so his way was clear to eliminate you. Merciful saints, he even hopes for redemption because he didn’t kill you outright, but merely abandoned you. And then he finally remembers to tack on his unfaithfulness to my mother.”
A disturbing thought occurred to her. “Do you think my mother knew of this?”
“Nay,” he said, with such assurance that she believed him. “FitzWarren told me he wrote this confession when he moved your mother to Wells a year after you were born, as you see by the date. He told me all. Did you know that you and your mother never lived at Hadleigh Castle, but at the manor she inherited from her father? He used to visit her there after my mother died, and probably before, if truth be known.
“Then after years of a barren marriage, his wife was suddenly with child, and in the expectation of a son he took me to London and conveniently mislaid me in one of the meanest stews in the city. He told anyone who asked that I’d run away. Not that there was anyone left, by then, who knew me.”
“How did you ever survive?” she asked, her heart aching for him.
He smiled faintly. “The need for revenge is a compelling motive, even for a child. The first thing I stole was a knife from a cutler’s shop. After that I learnt to fight for every scrap of food, for every piece of clothing, for any stray coins thrown by a noble in passing.”
“Nobles visited the stews?”
“All too often. I’d loiter around the bath-houses and make myself useful, running errands and so forth. Men talk more than they should in a bath-house. I heard them say that the Duke of York was the most powerful man in the country after the King, and that he was in London for a Council meeting. ’Twas easy enough to discover where and to waylay him.”
She gazed at him in awe. “I’m surprised his men didn’t toss you out of his path.”
“I talked fast,” he said dryly. “York realized at once I wasn’t a brat from the stews. I doubt he made much sense of the tale I poured into his ears, but he took me into his service and eventually sent me to his family at Ludlow. Edward is only two years younger than I; we became friends.”
“Could the Duke not help you regain your lands?”
“I never asked for his help. He’d already saved my life by taking me off the streets. I was big for my age, but there were always older boys ready to steal from someone smaller than themselves or, if they couldn’t intimidate their victims, to kill them. And York was busy fighting off rivals for his position as Protector of the Realm whenever Henry lapsed into madness. Besides—” A wry smile crossed his face. “I wanted to confront fitzWarren myself, and take back my lands. After our first encounter I learnt to wait until the time was right.”
“’Twas not just your eye he tried to take, was it,” Nell whispered. “He tried to take your life.”
He bent his head to brush his mouth across her brow. “Nay. I can’t accuse him of attempted murder on that occasion. I attacked first, in anger. He defended himself. As I once told you, ’tis not a heroic tale.”
“You were wronged,” she said hotly. “Grievously wronged. Of course you were angry.”
Rafe glanced at the paper in her hand. “A pity I didn’t know about that document at the time. Apparently your father regarded the birth of a daughter as divine punishment for trying to eliminate me, and when no more children were forthcoming he decided to protect his soul by concealing that confession in the cross he gave your mother. He told her it was to do with his support of poor, mad Henry, and since the Duke of York was Protector at the time, his life would be forfeit if the confession came to light.”
“Holy saints!” she exclaimed weakly.
“Aye. I don’t think the man has ever told the truth in his entire life, except now, with the threat of death looming over him.”
“What will you do with him?” she asked. “Accuse him publicly?”
Rafe shook his head. Taking the confession from her, he tossed it onto the floor, propped his back against the carved headboard, and settled her in the curve of his arm.
“I might have needed revenge once, sweetheart, but no more. That document is to keep your father from troubling us any further. As for his punishment, ’twill come soon enough. The man is ill. If he sees the year out ’twill be a miracle. I’ve given him two days to return to Hadleigh, clear his belongings out of the place, and move as far from us as possible. Oh, and before he leaves Wells, he is to send your uncle’s man back to Langley for your baggage and your horse.”
“Chevette? You’re going to ask my uncle for Chevette? Oh, Rafe, thank you.”
He grinned down at her. “Might as well blackmail everyone into giving us what we want while we can. Is there anything you’d like from the King when I inform him he’s not to come near you again unless I’m with you?”
She smiled, so happy she would have forgiven the entire world its sins. “I don’t want revenge either. As long as I have you, I have everything I need. Although—” She stopped, remembering something she had wanted to do. Holy saints, was it only four days ago? “There is one little thing…”
“Name it.”
“You will have to let me go first,” she said demu
rely.
“Only for a minute.” He opened his arms.
She rose on her knees beside him and let her gaze roam over his face, from the quizzical expression in his tawny eyes to the amused set of his hard mouth, and then lower to the width of his shoulders and chest. She remembered how it felt to be crushed against the powerful muscles beneath his surcoat, remembered the strength of his arms, the intimacy of his touch.
With an inward shiver of delight, she reined in her wayward thoughts and returned her gaze to his face. She lifted her hand toward him and the amused expression vanished from his eyes. She shivered again, hesitating when she saw the smoldering heat that replaced it. “May I…”
“Anything,” he said at once. “Whatever you want.”
She edged closer and touched her hand to his cheek, but the position threatened her balance. Rafe took her free hand and placed it on his shoulder so she could brace herself. The muscle beneath her fingers was as hard as steel.
Her lips parted slightly as the heat from his body surrounded her. Love, desire, tenderness, all swirled within her. All for Rafe. She touched his cheek again and, with the tips of her fingers, traced the scar on his face, from his brow to the short curve below his eye. Then she leaned closer and retraced the path with her lips.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “So very sorry.”
His arms closed around her, holding her against him with a fierce strength that was yet heart-meltingly tender. “It doesn’t matter anymore. My little darling. You won’t regret marrying me. You won’t regret trusting me with your love, I swear it. We’ve both been scarred by the past, even if all the scars don’t show, but the future is ours.”
He moved suddenly, with the swiftness that always surprised her. Before she knew what was happening, she was flat on her back, gazing up at him in bemusement. “Starting now,” he growled, and lowered his mouth to hers.
He kissed her with the same intensely focused need she had felt in him before. Kissed her until she was soft and melting inside, until she couldn’t think of anything but the two of them, lying together.
His hands moved over her, unlacing, shifting, sweeping their garments aside until she lay naked in his arms for the first time. Felt the burning heat of his body enfold her, the softness of her breasts crushed against the deliciously abrasive hardness of his chest. And, with mouth and hands, he cherished, worshipped, aroused.
Shyness intruded only once, when he raised himself on one forearm to let his gaze move slowly down the length of her body. Nell murmured softly as warmth tinted her cheeks and he bent to kiss her again.
“Hush,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful, my darling. My princess. Let me love you. Let me…”
His dark voice was so strained and hoarse it would have startled her if she’d been thinking clearly. But his hands began to trace the path his gaze was taking, and she could only feel. Feel his long fingers circling her breasts, stroking, shaping the soft contours, teasing the rosy buds that responded to his touch with a tingling rush that sent heat to every quivering nerve-ending.
Leaving her wanting more of the thrilling caresses, he moved his hand lower, flattening his palm on the gentle curve of her belly, stroking lightly in a movement that was both sensual and possessive. Her hips lifted in a response she couldn’t control and a small cry of longing shuddered through her. He had given her pleasure yesterday, but this… She was drowning in sensations never before imagined.
“Shhh,” he soothed, trailing tiny kisses along her jaw, then moving his lips to the soft flesh of her throat. “Slow, this time, sweetheart. Slow.”
With lips and tongue he tasted her throat, her neck, the delicate bones below, moving with nerve-racking slowness toward her breasts. His tongue curled around a velvety nipple, teasing it over and over, making her writhe beneath him in frustrated need. Then, just when she thought she could not stand the sweet torment any longer, his mouth closed hotly over the throbbing peak, and at the same time his fingers parted the soft curls between her legs to stroke her with earth-shattering gentleness.
Ecstasy burst inside her immediately. She arched, a soundless cry parting her lips, no longer herself but a pulsing, throbbing creature of fire and passion.
It went on forever. He gave her no rest, no respite, but with mouth and hands took her from peak to peak until, when she was almost senseless with pleasure, when she thought there could be no more, he moved over her and, with a look of love so intense she could hardly bear it, he filled her body with his. Took her heart. Gave her his own.
It was a joining so complete she no longer had any awareness of two separate beings. Every breath, every whispered word of love, every heartbeat was theirs, shared. Every touch, every meeting of lips, of hands, of warm, naked flesh was a link binding them more closely. And when the final release came, when his life-force merged with hers, their souls met for one single, timeless moment of shared ecstasy.
* * *
How much sweeter was this awakening, Nell thought drowsily, a long time later. She lay in Rafe’s arms, warmed by the heat of his body, her head on his shoulder, their legs entwined. The incredible intimacy of it, their very closeness, felt so right it filled her heart to overflowing.
She would never regret yesterday, never forget the thrilling moment when Rafe had possessed her for the first time, but that had been borne of danger; fierce desire clashing with the whirling chaos of her emotions. And, for a few minutes, the aftermath had left her feeling utterly alone and lost.
Now Rafe was giving her love and warmth and tenderness. The certainty that she was cared for, and with it, the sure knowledge of the power of her love for him. They would heal each other, she thought, and become stronger and closer for the healing.
The cathedral bells began to toll for the noon office and she stirred, looking up at him.
He smiled and bent his head to kiss her. “So, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips. “Will I ask the Bishop to marry us today?”
She touched a corner of his mouth, entranced by the tender look in his eyes. “If it pleases your lordship.”
A quick grin flashed across his face, but then he drew back to cup her face with one hand and look deeply into her eyes. “’Twill please me very well, lady,” he said seriously. “Because ’tis the dearest wish of my heart.”
“And of mine,” she whispered, blinking against a rush of happy tears. “Oh, Rafe, I do love you so.”
“And I will love you for the rest of my days, my beautiful princess. From this moment on, always.”
“Always,” she repeated softly. And reached up to seal the vow with a kiss.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Two weeks later, wrapped warmly against the brisk autumn wind in a sable-trimmed mantle of green velvet, Nell stood in the courtyard of the inn near Wells where she and Rafe had been staying since their marriage, and watched the last of her chests being loaded onto the baggage wagons.
A few yards away, Samson and Chevette, already saddled, awaited their riders. Next to the bay’s huge bulk Chevette looked like a child’s pony, but she didn’t seem to mind the close proximity of the larger horse, even though Samson was standing with his head arched over her withers. If anything, Nell mused, suddenly realizing that Samson had assumed that particular stance since the little palfrey had arrived three days ago, Chevette looked rather smug.
“Are you ready to depart, sweetheart?” Rafe asked, coming up behind her. “They’re expecting us at Hadleigh before the supper hour.”
She smiled up at the hard face of her warrior husband, and marveled at the softer light that filled his eyes every time he looked at her. That, and his need to be within touching distance of her whenever they were together, had her utterly enthralled.
Of course, there were disadvantages also, Rafe had informed her last night. She was now so sensitive to his presence that, much to her glee and his pretended disgust, he could no longer creep up on her.
He looked down at her and his gazed lingered, narrowing thought
fully. “Why are you smiling like that?”
Her smile grew. “Do you see anything familiar?” she asked, glancing at the horses.
His gaze followed hers. He was silent for a moment. “You don’t have withers,” he muttered at last. “And I don’t hang over you.”
She giggled. “Of course not.”
Rafe continued to watch the horses. “Poor old Samson,” he said with patently false gloom. “Another warrior brought to his knees by the female of the species.”
“Indeed?” She bent a minatory look on him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on your knees.”
But Rafe wasn’t listening. “On the other hand, if Samson is going to be distracted… Euan,” he called to his young squire, who was contemplating the unenviable task of separating Chevette from her protector. “Leave the palfrey’s reins tied. I’ll take my lady up before me on Samson for the first few miles. You can stay with the baggage wagons.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Relieved of duty, the boy scampered off to fetch Rufus, who was remaining in Rafe’s possession, much to Nell’s delight. Rufus had carried her gallantly on their journey; she hadn’t wanted to see him returned to her uncle.
“But I was looking forward to riding Chevette,” she began, only to be stopped by a gleam in her husband’s eyes that she recognized all too well.
“Do you recall that I once promised to show you how much trouble you can get into on the back of a horse, my lady wife?” he murmured in the dark velvet voice that never failed to make her knees go weak.
And to think she’d been picturing the interesting spectacle of her former bodyguard on his knees. A mind-numbing suspicion suddenly occurred to her. Surely he didn’t mean…
On a horse?
He couldn’t! She wouldn’t!
But when she looked up into those intense, glittering hawk’s eyes she knew that if he could, she would.
“Do you know something, my lord?” she asked, her frown promising dire retribution even as a deliciously wanton shiver of excitement coursed through her. “I am not precisely sure how or when it happened, but I seem to have ended up no longer mistress of my fate.”