“Norfolk. It is on the east coast.” He turned his gaze to the fire as if he could conjure up an image of his home in its flickering flames. “My family’s castle is by the sea.”
“The sea,” she said softly. “I’ve heard tell of it. What’s it like?”
Her face had softened under the amber light, and her eyes had widened with curiosity.
“It’s like many things. One day it is gentle and peaceful, a reassuring presence. Another day it is wild and cruel and takes what it wants and destroys at whim. But it is always there, vast, a gateway to other lands.”
“You love it,” she said, her eyes searching his.
He nodded. “Aye. I’d rather be on the sea, at its mercy, than cooped up on land in the power of strangers.”
She grunted and toyed with her cup before taking another drink. “I’ve heard tell of the line where the sky meets the sea, beyond which the rest of the world exists. What is that like?”
He suddenly realized that living in the forests, she’d never have been able to see to the edge of her vision, hemmed in as her world was by trees.
“Like?” He took a drink of the strange ale which made him feel both drowsy and alert at the same time, as he considered her words and what it meant to him to see the horizon, a steady reminder of how large the world was. He shrugged, unable to bring words together to describe it. “It’s something I cannot be without.”
She nodded and fumbled in her robes. She withdrew a brooch which sparkled in the light. “This is the only thing I own from my previous life. My family has no knowledge of such a thing.” She hesitated before holding it out to him. “Do you?”
He took it and held it up to the light, twisting it and knew he held a thing of rare value. “Whoever owned this was not only wealthy but had status also. I have seen such riches overseas.” He gave it to her but not before noticing the small crest set in the gold.
“Where overseas?”
He narrowed his gaze. “I’ve seen the pattern wrought in the gold before. In the Kingdom of Sicily.”
“Sicily? Where’s that?”
“It’s an island in the middle sea. Surrounded by water. It is not cold like it is here. The people are learned, and the city of Palermo is prosperous. The king is still young but already speaks six languages. People say he will be a great ruler of the island.”
“And are they dark-skinned with dark hair like my people, or paler like the Normans?”
“The royal family is of Norman and German descent, so they have your coloring.”
She grunted softly. “So mayhap I could be from there.” Her eyes flared with hope.
“Mayhap.” He didn’t want to let her down. The girl had been through enough and had saved his life. And maybe her family had come from there, had been pickpockets there and had stowed away with their treasure to England. But there must have been something in his voice which betrayed his suspicions for she looked away, back at her people with an air of resignation.
He shifted and winced. She offered more ale. “Come, take some more. It will help ease the pain.”
He obliged. “It tastes strange. Good, yet strange.”
“It is from an ancient recipe,” said Kezia as she watched him drink with a smile. “Finish it,” she urged.
He did. And he enjoyed the sense of well-being it gave him as the sky cleared and a moon rose above the glade, casting the scene before him in a silver light. The pain was numbed, lurking on the edge of his senses. The difficulties of the past few days were forgotten as he leaned against the side of a hut, seated on a thick fur, and listened to a man at the center of the group tell a story to a rapt audience. He couldn’t understand the language but could identify with the passion of his delivery. At the end, people cheered, as did he, and he had no idea why. His head began to feel separate to his body, as if it were floating above it. He lay back, thinking what a pleasurable feeling it was.
More wood was piled on top the fire, and someone pulled out a stringed instrument, the likes of which he’d never seen before. As the man drew a bow across the strings, its vibration traveled through the air and plucked at something inside of him. To his amazement, tears pricked his eyes as the melancholy tune skewered deeper to where once his heart had been. He closed his eyes in shock and then a voice struck up, a woman’s voice which was strong and passionate and sent shivers through his body. When he opened his eyes, he saw it was Kezia singing and she was looking directly at him. She was singing in the Romani language, but it was clear by the effect of her words on others, including him, that the song was of love and longing. He felt every note in his body, tingling, bringing it to life.
Orange flames licked up from the fire, casting her face in a bronze glow, as the song soared from her mouth, her eyes one moment bright with passion, the next closed as the melody deepened and spoke of a tragedy which was too much to be borne. None of the meaning he understood from her words, all of it was from the passion of her delivery. He was entranced, could hardly believe it was the same person who’d been invisible at the castle. Then the song ended, but the spell didn’t. She opened her eyes and caught his gaze immediately, and she came to him. He lifted his arm and she nestled against him like a bird returning to shelter.
Another tune began, but this time it held the lilting rhythm of a dance. It began slowly, played by a young man, and then a young woman rose and started dancing provocatively before him. Rufus felt himself stir and harden as he inhaled Kezia’s scent and watched the woman gyrate her hips in front of the man, so seductively, so slowly, promising the world that lay between them. And he believed her. Then she teased, stepped away and the music grew faster. The woman whirled around and around, stopping when the man dropped his instrument and grabbed her.
Rufus was halfway to his feet before he stopped when he saw where the woman’s hand was reaching. The man groaned as she fondled the hard outline in his breeches, then he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his hips. People applauded as he took her off, not out of sight, but to the edge of the firelight where their noisy lovemaking filled the air.
Someone else took up the instrument while the sound of cries of ecstasy from both the man and the woman rose to combine with the music in a celebration of lust which Rufus had never before heard.
As the music continued, Kezia shifted around and looked at him, her face inches from his. In the light of the fire he could see himself reflected in the pools of her eyes, and without further thought, brushed her lips with his. He felt her gasp, but before he could do anything, she pressed her mouth to his for one long moment before he felt the slide of her tongue along his lips, parting them. He groaned and slid his fingers through her hair—bright now that it was no longer daubed with charcoal—and held her face still while he explored her mouth.
He felt as if he were floating above her, inside her, upon her, as their tongues tangled and her body pressed closer to his. The music continued, and he could hear the sensual moans of others who had succumbed to the frenzied need the music and bedding of the others had aroused.
He moved his hands from her face, down her neck, relishing every touch of his fingers, which seemed more sensitive than they’d ever been, along her skin. As his lips continued to caress hers, and their tongues slid along each other’s, his fingers did not cease their descent, gliding over the delicate bones at the base of her throat, and further until he felt the gentle swell of her small breasts and her sharp intake of breath. His fingers pulled open the ties of her robe, and his thumb massaged the tight erect nub of her breast.
Then she pulled away, her lips swollen and parted, her eyes bright and sensual. With her hair shaken from its bindings, scattered around her shoulders, and her breasts with their long hard buds revealed between the strands, she looked like some naiad, a being sacred to the forest springs, whose sensual nature had come to claim him. And he wanted to be claimed.
But Kezia held his gaze steady and gave an imperceptible shake of the head. Curiously, her refusal to continue didn
’t frustrate him. However the spell had been wrought—either by the ale, or by Kezia herself—the intensity of his connection with her had brought its own release. Not the usual physical one, but something deeper, more profound.
He held her close and felt her breathing as if it were his own as the music and the night circled around them and he knew he was at one with it all. As she rested her cheek against his chest, he was aware of his heart as he’d never been before. The beat of his heart had always provided a reassurance that he’d survived, but now his heart pulsed to a different rhythm, one which he couldn’t place. But he would, he thought sleepily as his eyes closed and his breathing slowed and melted into hers.
Chapter 7
Rufus awoke the next morning to the sound of subdued talk in a tongue he didn’t understand. He lay still for a moment trying to remember where he was. Weak early dawn light filtered through gaps in the hides which lined the brush shelter. The air was cold upon his face but his body was warm under the layers of fur.
He flexed his hand and was surprised to feel little pain, only stiffness. The bindings were clean of blood. He turned suddenly, his attention caught by a movement from under the covers. He threw off the furs to reveal Kezia, close against his body, her fair hair fanned over his chest, one arm draped over his hips. No wonder he felt warm. And he was feeling warmer all the time as he remembered the kiss from the previous night.
Kezia shifted her slight body against his hip and he hardened. He should never had given in and kissed her. No doubt the ale was partly responsible but he knew it had eased his usual caution and he’d surrendered to an impulse which was well and truly his own. He’d felt something shift inside him when he’d kissed her. He ground his teeth with frustration. He didn’t want to feel anything. Life was easier that way.
Ignoring the needs of his body, he gently lifted Kezia off him and pulled on his tunic. As he dressed, he looked down at her, the outline of her petite frame visible through her chemise, the top of one pale breast revealed. He longed to place a kiss there but stepped away instead. And her hair, bright now, far brighter than the dark hair and complexion of her kin, tumbled over the dark furs, rivaling their fine texture. How had she’d managed to hide such beauty? But, as he pulled on his tunic, he knew. She was clever. And, if that kiss was anything to go by, she was passionate. All things which threatened to weaken him further. He inhaled a long, slow breath.
Yes, she was his wife, but he’d be leaving for Norfolk that day, leaving her behind with her people. The marriage would mean nothing to them, and the whole thing would be an event remembered only by stories and songs. But for him, her staying would count as desertion, and he’d begin proceedings for the marriage to be annulled as soon as he could. There was no other way. He took one last, lingering look at her before stepping out into the clearing.
The sun had yet to rise, and the air was at its coldest. Freezing mist hovered over snow which had fallen in the night. He checked on his horse who’d been well looked after in a shelter every bit as protective as the one in which he’d awoken. Plucking a handful of hay from the ground, Rufus rubbed him down, checking his body as he did so, making sure that no harm had come to him, either from the journey or from the night with the Romani.
“Do you plan on sneaking away without telling anyone?”
He turned to find Kezia pulling a rough woolen cloak lined with fur around her, suspicious eyes fixed upon him.
“Nay,” he said as he turned his attention to his horse. “I don’t believe anyone can make a move without your people knowing.”
“Aye, you speak truly.”
He finished with the horse, torn between wanting to turn around and take hold of this newly revealed woman and kiss her senseless, and the urge to jump upon his horse and leave immediately, without a backward glance. He’d be home in two days, minus a wife but married to a woman he’d never see again.
“You’re planning on leaving me behind, aren’t you?”
He twisted around. “Are you a witch?”
“Aye. Us Romani women are all witches if you mean wise and clever and fearless.”
“It was not what I meant.”
“You won’t, you know.”
“Won’t what?”
“Leave me. You won’t get far on your own, with no food. You’d be lost within hours.”
“Your people will not sell me some food for my travels?”
“Not if I don’t want them to.”
“And you’d like to see me dead?”
“Nay, I wish for you to take me with you.”
“Why in God’s name would you wish that?”
The doorway darkened, and he looked up to see the woman who was the Romani chieftain, standing watching them both. “Because she’s not safe here, now. Not after what happened to her sister. Nobles—” her face twisted with distaste “—have been venturing ever closer since the king has favored the hunting lodge. We will have to move deeper into the forest. It’s become too dangerous for us to remain. And far too dangerous for Kezia. She’s known to them now. If they find her…” The woman didn’t finish the sentence. They all knew what would happen if Kezia was found.
Kezia turned to Rufus. “If they find me, I’ll end up like Ethelinda. Dead. Eventually.”
“You must take Kezia with you,” the elder said. “She claims you are trustworthy, and we have no other choice but to let her go.”
His heart leaped, and he frowned at his gut response. It would mean an end to any plans for an annulment. Either way, he had no wish for a wife—of that he was now certain. Then why did something deep inside of him now react with a feeling akin to hope? He cleared his throat.
“Kezia will have no future with me.”
“She has none here either.” The elder turned to Kezia. “But there are other of our people in Norwich. That we do know. Maybe Kezia should join them there. Kezia, what do you wish to do?”
“I have no choice but to leave. What do you know of our Norwich cousins?”
The elder grimaced. “Little. All I know is that some of them escaped their bonds to their masters—which were scarcely better than slavery—and are honest working people. You should go to these people.” She narrowed her black eyes and fixed them on Rufus. “Take her with you, sir, and care for her until you find the Norwich Romani. Will you do this?”
Rufus nodded. “Kezia has twice saved my life. I owe her and will repay your trust. But we must leave before the sun is up.”
The elder nodded solemnly. “So be it.” She took Kezia’s hand, and Rufus moved away from the intimate scene, to give them a chance to give farewell to each other.
As Rufus continued to prepare his horse, he listened to the soft murmurings exchanged between Kezia and the elder, sounds of love, of care, of entreaties for the future. Rufus sighed. From a future clear and purposeful, things had now become far more complicated.
They rode in silence away from the Romani encampment. Rufus sensed Kezia’s sadness in the determined tilt of her jaw as she gazed glassy-eyed on the path ahead, and in the tension in her body which, by necessity, snuggled against his. He dwelt hard on that sadness because with each shift in the saddle, her softly rounded bottom nudged his manhood, which was in danger of rising to the challenge.
And the scent of her, too, was entrancing. She’d smelled fresh and sweet in the hunting lodge, but now, after a night with her people, she smelled different, of herbs and bracken, of fresh air and water. And, something else. It took him until they reached the outer limits of the forest to name, but even then all he could come up with was that she smelled of herself. And that smell was clean and appetizing, like the fresh snow which melted from the oaks’ bare branches, and the air, tart with the fragrance of frozen sky.
After an hour or more, when she looked up at him with those forest green eyes, unable to prevent a whimper from escaping her throat, it was all he could do to not enfold her body in his and show her in the most urgent way that he had nothing but her on his mind. But the fear
he saw in those eyes swept away his baser thoughts.
“There’s nothing to fear, Kezia.”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” But her glance at the forest told him everything he needed to know. She would have been stupid not to be afraid of the unknown, and Kezia wasn’t stupid.
“Good.” He took a deep breath of her scent and shook his head to clear it of any lingering thoughts of what he’d like to do with her. “Then let me describe Norwich and Norfolk, so you know a little of the place we head toward.”
“I’d like that.” She relaxed against him and he felt something within him unfurl also. And he knew that something had nothing to do with the fact that his body wanted her as it had never wanted anyone else.
“Norwich,” he began, focusing his mind on the details of their destination which would allay her fears, “is a wealthy city and large. It has more people than you could imagine. There is plenty of work and for the most part people prosper.” He paused as he considered the darker side of cities but decided not to concern her with something he hoped she’d never encounter.
She looked up at him, and he fixed his gaze on the path ahead, anything but the flushed curve of her cheek. “And do you live there?”
“Not in Norwich, but not far away. Our lands border the sea.”
“The sea…” breathed Kezia. “Is it as blue as the trees are green?”
“It’s like the sky. Blue if the sun shines, and gray if clouds fill the sky. But sometimes it is green, other times, an almost darkened purple, like a bruise.”
“So many colors. And the smell. Of what does it smell?”
“It has a briny, salty smell. Fresh. Very fresh, unlike the cities and the king’s hunting lodge. The wind blows near constantly, and in summer, while the lands swelter beneath clear blue skies, a sea fret often drifts into shore.”
“Stop,” she said urgently.
She twisted around and clamped her hand over his mouth as he was about to question her. He reined in his horse, and they both listened. Then he heard the sound of horses’ hooves approaching from behind.
Defending His Lady (Norfolk Knights Book 4) Page 7