Dominick’s squeezed her hand. “Eleanor, I swear, you have nothing to fear from me.”
She looked up at him. “Dominick, I do realize that with the exception of our wedding day, you have showed me nothing but kindness, but I need more time. I cannot erase what has passed, or the fear I feel, but maybe we can start by being friends.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “Friends it will be.” His black eyes bore into hers, and for an instant, they looked to promise so much more. Excitement shot through her. “Eat, before your wedding ring no longer fits. I will not have a skinny wife.”
“Oh, so you prefer a fat one?” she said with a grin.
“No. But a woman who looks like a willow is not very appealing.”
“So I’m not attractive.” She felt the humor bubble to her throat.
He sighed dramatically. “You have weight on you now, but when I first met you . . . ”
“So you’re saying I was ugly when you first met me?”
Dominick placed his hand gently over her mouth. His smile was soft and playful. “That is not what I mean, and you well know it.” She giggled beneath his hand. “Now fortify yourself. You can help me with this field.”
“Help you with the field? What could a gaunt and frail girl like me do to help you?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “I’m not beyond throwing you into that cold stream.”
“Ooh, I’m so frightened.” When he moved threateningly toward her, she held up her hand. “I yield, I yield.” Picking up the bread she said, “See, I’m eating, so I can get big and strong and help the master in his field.”
“You’re tempting me.”
She took a large bite out of her bread and washed it down with water. Then she attacked the cheese. She hadn’t realized she was so hungry until she looked down and all the food was gone.
“Good girl,” he said, as she folded the napkin and brushed the crumbs off her skirt.
“My duty is to please.” A wry grin crossed his face.
Wagons rolled into the field, and workers began picking up large rocks and throwing them in. Dominick walked to his plow and started tilling the rest of the field. Eleanor joined in the rock picking. It was hard work, but she enjoyed being outdoors and especially being near Dominick.
Chapter Fourteen
Dominick continued plowing the field as his mind pulled toward Eleanor’s confession of the past. Until now he hadn’t known the true extent of her suffering. The former master of Godwin was a despicable man. Offering his own wife for rape and accusing her of being a whore, then beating her for it.
The spirit had told him Arthur Mason was not her father. Had he known that? Had that been the reason for his abuse? Hurting a child was inconceivable no matter the circumstance. Silently, Dominick hoped the man now suffered the fiery tortures of hell.
Eleanor worked hard in the field. Someone brought her a ridiculously large straw hat that hung low on her forehead. Dominick smiled. Despite all she’d been through, she hadn’t lost her spirit. It could even be comical. She wanted to be friends, but Dominick wanted so much more. He planned to push her to her limits, and flex his best seduction muscles.
The way she stared at his chest didn’t escape him. She wasn’t even aware of what she was doing. There were ways of heightening a woman’s desire without actually touching her. Despite her past she was a woman, flesh and blood, and could be subject to needs and desires just like anyone else.
She didn’t think he was physically repulsive. Unbeknownst to her, he had caught her staring at him every night as he undressed for bed. A crooked smile crossed his face. He was going to be entertaining that evening.
After a full day’s work in the field, Eleanor’s muscles cried out with every movement. When she entered her chambers late that afternoon, a bath with scented oils waited for her. As quickly as her body would allowed, she stripped down, and climbed into the steamy, soothing water.
Her body gave in to the relaxing heat. The steam penetrated the pores in her face. Oil that smelled of gardenia drifted into her senses. The fragrance was soft and light, much like her mood. She felt glorious.
Her servant knocked briefly, before she entered. “Martha, you have saved my life.”
“Why my dear?”
“Because you had this wonderful bath waiting for me.”
Martha looked confused. “I didn’t order the bath.”
“If you didn’t, then who?”
“Probably the master. He is in another chamber right now sitting in a tub as well.” A smile grew across Martha’s face.
“Oh.” The image of Dominick’s large, perfectly sculpted body sitting in a tub, his skin slick with soap and water sent her into an erotic fantasy.
Eleanor sat up abruptly. Where did that come from? Shaken, she prayed Martha wasn’t looking at her. She was sure her thoughts could be plainly seen on her face. Looking toward where her maid was moving about, she saw her spreading a new gown across the bed. Thoughts of Dominick temporarily halted. “Oh Martha, that is beautiful.” Her eyes were drawn to the fine creamy fabric with its delicate gold embroidery.
“Probably one of the most beautiful gowns I have ever seen, my sweet.”
“I have to agree with you.”
“His lordship sent a circlet and girdle to match.”
The girdle was woven from fine gold thread with jade stones that ran along its center. The gold circlet bore the same jade stones. “Those are exquisite,” said Martha.
“Yes, they are,” Eleanor said with appreciation.
Martha helped with washing Eleanor’s hair. It dried in waves down her back as she sat by the fire. Like a pampering mother, Martha made a production of dressing her mistress.
Her maid pulled a soft ivory under tunic over Eleanor’s head. “This is the finest fabric I’ve ever seen.”
Eleanor ran her hands down her sides. “It does feel luxurious. It makes me feel. . .”
“Like a woman?”
Eleanor smiled. “Yes, like a woman.”
The gown was next. The girdle hung low on Eleanor’s hips to emphasize her narrow waist. She chose not to wear a headscarf and just wore the circlet. Martha put two more dabs of the gardenia oil on her neck then turned her toward the mirror.
Eleanor could not believe her eyes. Never before had she seen herself that way.
“You look like a queen, my dear,” Martha’s said, her voice cracked with the threat of tears.
“I feel like a queen.” She swished the skirt around her ankles.
Another sweep of the comb through her hair and she was ready to head out the door. Anxious to see Dominick’s reaction, she descended the stairs. Eleanor stopped. Standing at the bottom was a vision of pure masculinity.
The white tunic Dominick was wearing fit him like a second skin. It was made of the same fabric as Eleanor’s gown. It added contrast to his near black eyes.
They smoldered with something Eleanor didn’t recognize, yet her skin prickled with delight when he looked at her. His breeches were made of supple black leather that fit snuggly around his thighs, and his sable-black hair was pulled away from his face, framing his jaw and cheekbones. His lips pulled into a slow sultry smile.
Eleanor felt light headed and giddy. She placed her hand on her stomach to still the butterflies that stirred. Chiding herself for having such silly notions, she continued down the stairs. The heady musk aroma titillated her senses as she stood next to him. A feeling she didn’t recognize slammed into her.
“Are you feeling well?” he asked. “Maybe you were in the sun too long today.”
Brought out of her reverie, Eleanor had to think fast. Shaking her foot she stammered, “No, I--I just had a stone in my slipper.” She gave her foot a furious shake for show. “There, I think it’s gone now.”
Dominick gave her a crooked smiled. “Good.” He brought her hand to his lips and bowed slightly. More of the masculine aroma assaulted her senses. “Shall we proceed?”
“Y . . . yes,”
she said, her voice a little too high. “I’m starving. I think I could eat half a stag by myself.”
“Well there is certainly plenty of food. I believe the cooks have outdone themselves this evening.”
Dominick escorted Eleanor to her seat. She looked across from him to where Randolf sat. He was dressed completely in black. His blue eyes sparkled as a young maid passed by. Eleanor smiled. She found Dominick’s brother to be completely charming. “Good evening, Randolf.”
He raised his cup in salute. “Good evening, my lady. You’re looking especially splendid.”
“Thank you.”
She looked over at Erik. A mystery man, but he was a good friend to Dominick and deserved her loyalty and appreciation. “Good evening, Lord Erik.”
“Good evening, my lady.”
His striking good looks were hard to miss. Like her husband and Randolf, Erik had the body of a soldier. His hair was like spun gold, but his most striking feature were his eyes. They were the color of amber. She’d never seen eyes that color before. She detected sadness hidden deep behind them. Eleanor’s mind waived away such frivolity. She hardly ever spoke to the man. How would she know if he was sad or not? “Please call me Eleanor.”
Erik's smile was difficult to resist. “Eleanor,” he said testing her name on his lips.
“Tell me, Lord Erik—.”
“Erik, please.”
She smiled. “Tell me, Erik, where do you call home?”
“My home is a six day ride east to Alastair.”
“How long have you been away?”
“Through the winter. I helped Dominick rout out McPhearson's siege. I hope to be returning before the spring festival.”
“A festival? How exciting.”
“It is. The first week in May, people come from all over to celebrate a new beginning for crops and animals. Merchants come to sell their wares. Jongleurs and acrobats are there to entertain. Eight days of eating, drinking, and celebrating. It’s quite spectacular,” he said enthusiastically.
For the first time she saw him smile. “It sounds wonderful.”
“You and Dominick must come one year. It’s quite the experience.”
“We would love to come. Thank you for the invitation.”
Dominick turned to them. “Invitation?” “What invitation is that?”
“Erik has invited us to Spring Festival at Alastair.”
“Oh, yes. I remember I went one year. By the end of it I was exhausted, but it was an extremely good time. We must go next year.”
The entrance of food interrupted their conversation. Eleanor stiffened when a goblet of wine was placed before Dominick. Involuntarily her hand reached out and pushed it back down to the table.
“Don’t worry, my dear. I saw to the pouring of the wine myself.” He sipped. “An excellent red wine.” He tipped the cup to his lips again before offering it to her.
She hesitated but a moment then slowly brought the cup to her mouth. Reluctantly she let the liquid slide on to her tongue. It was sweet with a fermented edge. “That is not as terrible as I thought it would be.”
“It’s meant only to enhance a meal, not make it forgettable." Eleanor nodded and when Dominick poured a small amount into her goblet she drank it cautiously as the meal continued.
The four of them spent the evening talking about plans for rebuilding Godwin. Even though much had been done, there was still much more renovation to be completed.
Occasionally, Dominick would lean forward and Eleanor would catch the scent of his musky aroma. Arrows of excitement rushed through her. Throughout the evening his knee brushed against hers, causing her breath to catch in the back of her throat. She suspected the acts were deliberate, but when she looked up at him, she found his gaze was somewhere else.
With Dominick there were no casual glances. His dark-eyed stares swept over her like a forest fire. She found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation and wondered if he knew the effect he was having on her. Finally, she gathered herself together. She was not like those young girls standing at the edge of the field, sighing and drooling at his every move. The image of him and the plow nearly wiped out her resolve, but she pulled back hard and participated in the conversation.
Soon all of the guests retired. Eleanor and Dominick shared one more cup of wine. His two hounds sat quietly at their feet. Reaching down, she gave each one attention. They passively lay on their sides while she stroked them.
Dominick stretched his long legs out in front of the fire. He pulled up the sleeves of his tunic calling attention to the contrast of his bronze skin against the white fabric. He was getting darker due to his working in the fields. She could never imagine her father working the land. Actually she could never remember him ever venturing out of the castle. The only image of her father she had was him staggering around with a tankard of ale in his hand. How could she ever have compared that monster to Dominick?
“How is the change from being the King’s general to a landowner? Has it been difficult?”
“You mean the adjustment to three meals a day and sleeping with a roof over my head as opposed to sleeping on the hard ground in the freezing rain and foraging for food?”
Eleanor smiled. “Yes.”
“Not well at all,” he said, pretending to be indifferent, then smiled.
Chuckling, Eleanor pleaded, “Truthfully, is this all you expected?”
He looked around the great hall. “Truthfully, better. I didn’t realize how satisfying it could be to make a small piece of the world my own. With every seed I plant or brick I raise, I feel as though I’m mortaring over a hole in my life.”
“Is that why you work so hard?”
“Hard work is no stranger to me, Eleanor. It was the only way to survive.”
She leaned forward with interest. “How so?”
“Although we’re of noble birth, we are bastards. Not much higher than a servant. Our father fostered us out to another earl’s household.” Dominick swallowed and cleared his throat. “I will never forget that day. My mother was crying, my father’s eyes were puffy and red as though he too had been crying. Until that time I thought we were all happy. I didn’t understand why we were being sent away. My father assured me it was only temporary, that he would send for us soon, but we needed to learn how to be men and could not do it under the cloud of scandal. I promised to learn as fast as I could so our separation would be short. And then we were taken away. I was ten and Randolf was seven.
“Years went by without hearing from our parents. Every wagon and every messenger that came through I hoped brought word from them, and that soon it would be time to go back home. But I was wrong. Years later, I stopped hoping.” He paused for a moment and took a sip of wine.
Eleanor could feel a lump growing in her throat, imagining Dominick as a little boy waiting for word from his parents, and the disappointment of none coming.
He continued. “Lord Harold taught us as much as he could. Trainers from all over the world came to train us with new fighting skills. When we were old enough Lord Harold told us it was time to seek our own fortunes. Bastards did not inherit their own land.
The question played in her mind, and she had to ask. “Did you ever try going back to see your mother and father?”
“No. A few years ago, Randolf and I got word that our parents were dead. There was no reason to go back.”
“Randolf and I pledged our services to whoever would pay for them. We fought in tournaments, where much gold was to be won. During one of these tournaments King William asked us to join him in his Crusades. He took a final draw on his wine and stood up. “Are you ready to retire, my dear?”
The abrupt change in subject caught Eleanor off guard. As she listened to his story, she watched the pain in his eyes. It was something he buried deep.
“Oh Dominick, I’m so sorry.”
He kissed her hand. “It’s in the past, not to be dwelled upon.” A muscle in his jaw flexed.
She began to protest. �
�But Dom—”
He placed his forefinger on her lips. “It’s to be forgotten.”
His dark eyes held hers as he moved closer. She could feel the heat of his body. “Are you ready to sleep?”
The way she had been feeling throughout the evening was far from sleepy. “All right,” she said, suddenly nervous.
Once inside their chamber, Dominick stoked up the fire until the room glowed brightly.
Eleanor struggled with the laces of her gown.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
She froze for a heartbeat. After the last few weeks she’d grown accustomed to him unlacing her gowns, but that night his doing so seemed particularly intimate. She quickly looked toward the bed. With a deep sigh of relief, she saw the broadsword lying there.
Dropping her hands to her sides, she allowed him to pull on the laces. Her heart thumped against her rib cage as his fingers brushed her neck. She could feel his breath blow gently on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. The spicy musk seduced her senses. Her nipples tightened almost painfully as he pulled the gown off her shoulders and his fingers brushed her arms. Unable to endure it longer, she stepped forward out of his grasp.
“I’m sure I can get the rest myself,” she said, expelling a rush of air.
Even though she was still covered in her chemise, the way he looked at her made her feel naked. Looking down she found her nipples protruding beneath the fabric. She crossed her arms over them and climbed into bed, pulling the bed robes up to her chin.
Dominick gave her a seductive smile, making her wonder what he was up to. Unbinding his hair, it fell around his shoulders and face. He looked wild and untamed. He unlaced his tunic exposing his golden skin and the cut of the muscles in his chest and stomach. He didn’t remove it completely. Sitting in a chair, he bent over to take off his boots, allowing her vision full access to the muscles that bunched in his chest and stomach. He stood back up and pulled the tunic off his broad shoulders, flexing his arms as he did it. Eleanor sank deep in the furs, covering herself up to her nose to stifle a groan, but she couldn’t look away.
Slowly he unlaced his breeches just a bit, exposing his flesh below his navel. Eleanor bit down hard on her lip. Suddenly, he needed a drink of water. His Adam’s apple bobbed with every gulp. It crossed Eleanor’s mind to pour the entire contents of the pitcher over her head and douse the fires that burned inside her.
Immortal Love Page 11