Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set]

by Gentle Warrior:Honor's Splendour:Lion's Lady

  Lord but he was stubborn! Why, he was still so angry with her that he barely glanced her way whenever they were in the same room. And he did not touch her, not since his return. Her heart pained her as much as her stomach when she realized how much she longed for his kiss, his embrace, his love.

  Elizabeth found herself struggling for control on the morning she and Geoffrey were to leave for his home. It was unusually hot for early summer and Elizabeth was feeling quite melancholy as she made her good-byes. She knew her husband would not be pleased if she became overly emotional, and she kept reminding herself of that fact as she tickled and hugged her little brother and then turned to her grandfather. “I will miss you,” she told him in a whisper.

  “Did you remember to pack your banner?” her grandfather asked. “A small remembrance of your past will help you deal with the uncertainty of the future.”

  “I did remember,” Elizabeth replied. “I love you, Grandfather. God protect you and Thomas.”

  Her grandfather embraced her in a powerful hug and then lifted her onto her mare. “You have been through much in these past months, child,” Elslow stated in a soft voice. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “But you are made of strong stuff. It is God’s will that you follow your destiny and your husband. The two are entwined, just like the vines that cling to the castle walls. Be not afraid, Elizabeth. And remember, trust your heart but use your head.”

  Elizabeth smiled at her grandfather’s confusing order and replied, “I will do my best.”

  Geoffrey observed the farewell between grandfather and granddaughter from the steps of Montwright. He was proud of his wife, knowing how she held her emotions in check. She looked so dignified and serene; yes, he thought, she is as regal as a queen, yet he knew how difficult this parting was for her. She was leaving all that was familiar to her to follow her husband, a man she thought incapable of feeling any emotion other than anger.

  Geoffrey admitted that he liked the tender show of affection between Elslow and Elizabeth and found himself irritated that he was the observer and not the participant. Yet he did not know how to enter into the farewell, and so continued to stand and watch, a brooding expression on his face.

  Thomas demanded the warrior’s attention. The child launched into Geoffrey’s leg, barely nudging the lord with his puny strength. Geoffrey effortlessly lifted the child high into the air and then slowly lowered him until the two were eye to eye. “You will behave and listen to your grandfather!” His voice sounded harsh to his ears, but the child seemed unafraid. He grinned and nodded his answer.

  Geoffrey pretended to drop Thomas, and the boy let out a squeal of delight. The lord placed the child on the ground and seemed undisturbed when the little one wrapped himself around Geoffrey’s leg. Indeed, he was pleased that the boy was so open and honest with his affection, and patted him on his head as he watched Elslow stride over to him.

  “I will watch Thomas well,” Elslow said.

  “And I will watch your Elizabeth,” Geoffrey promised in a solemn voice.

  “And we will both be led a merry chase,” Elslow said with a chuckle.

  Geoffrey found himself smiling, and then turned to glance at Elizabeth. He saw the distress she tried to hide. “I must hurry, before my wife changes her mind and refuses to leave,” he told Elslow. He started to walk toward his mount and then stopped and turned back to Elslow. “There is still danger as long as Belwain has his freedom. Walk with caution,” he said. It was the closest Geoffrey could come to admitting his concern and affection.

  Elslow, however, harbored no such inhibitions. He whacked Geoffrey on his back and threw his arm around his shoulder. “Son, you’ll miss this old man,” he advised the serious-faced knight.

  Geoffrey chuckled and replied, shaking his head, “Never have I been surrounded by so many who are so unafraid. It is a mystery,” he admitted.

  “That is because we are family,” Elslow stated.

  “Aye,” Geoffrey said, mounting his steed, “family.” He gave Elizabeth a long look and then turned toward the gates. Roger was saddled beside Geoffrey, and the two, flanked by Elizabeth’s wolfhounds, led the troops surrounding Elizabeth out of Montwright.

  Geoffrey had left half his contingent of men with Elslow and felt no unease. He looked forward, eager for the ride.

  Elizabeth preferred to look back, straining to memorize the walls of her home. The future frightened her, and she felt a devastating loneliness that tore at her heart.

  Her physical discomfort soon took her mind off her loneliness. It seemed that every hour or so, both her bladder and her stomach demanded release. It was both awkward and embarrassing to have to stop so often. She should have found a female servant to bring along, she decided. Another woman would have eased her embarrassment, and perhaps share her worry.

  By the time the sun had reached its zenith, Elizabeth was hot, miserable, and exhausted. She closed her eyes for a moment’s rest and almost fell out of her saddle, but Geoffrey was suddenly there, beside her, and caught her just in time. He lifted her and settled her against him without breaking his stallion’s stride. Elizabeth sighed her acceptance and quickly went to sleep, her head nestled against her husband’s chest and her arms wrapped around his waist.

  With one arm, Geoffrey held his wife close to him, savoring the feel of her softness against him. She smelled of wildflowers, Geoffrey thought, rubbing his chin against the top of her head as he inhaled her sweet scent, and apples too, from the meager lunch they had shared. He heard his wife sigh in her sleep, and silently echoed the sound.

  Elizabeth slept the afternoon away. Geoffrey finally called a halt to the fast pace an hour before sundown. Elizabeth’s legs would not support her when she finally touched the ground, and she found she had to hold on to Geoffrey’s arm until the shaking subsided.

  “You are ill?” Geoffrey made the question sound like an accusation, and Elizabeth straightened up at once.

  “I am not!” she contradicted. “Just a little indisposed. It will pass.”

  She tried to look away, but Geoffrey placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her toward him. It was the first show of affection in such a long time that Elizabeth felt herself becoming shy.

  “It is your time of the month?” he asked in a gentle whisper.

  Shyness evaporated with his intimate question. Elizabeth gasped and shook her head furiously. “We must not discuss such things,” she said, blushing. “It is unseemly.”

  She tried to pull away but Geoffrey would not let go. “And if husband and wife do not discuss this . . . thing, then when am I to know when I cannot touch you?” he asked in a logical voice.

  “Oh! I do not know,” Elizabeth whispered her answer, looking down at the ground. A sudden thought turned her gaze back to her husband. “That is why you have not, that is the reason we have not. . .” she stammered, unable to put her thoughts into words. She waited with the hope that Geoffrey would finish her sentence but he remained silent and watchful. “That is the reason you have not touched me?” she finally asked.

  Her voice was like the whisper of the wind, but Geoffrey heard. “Nay,” he replied. His voice was gentle and most confusing to Elizabeth.

  “Then you are still angry with me?” Elizabeth asked. “That is the reason.” In her heart she prayed she was right, that it was Geoffrey’s anger over her conduct that kept him from her bed. She didn’t know how she would deal with any other reason. If he no longer found her desirable . . .

  Geoffrey watched the play of emotions that swept across his wife’s face, and longed to take her fully into his arms and kiss away all her doubts, her worries. He could barely conceal his hunger for her. His promise to wait until Elizabeth was settled into his home before telling her of his love, before showing her his love, now seemed highly unreasonable. And, Geoffrey reminded himself with a grin, he was always most reasonable, wasn’t he?

  Elizabeth witnessed the grin and became more confused. What was he thinking to bring such a smile
? she wondered. Would she ever understand how Geoffrey’s mind worked?

  “Come, Elizabeth. We have camped near a clear stream. Refresh yourself while I see to my duties.”

  “I may have a bath?” Elizabeth asked, her voice eager. Her clothes felt hot and she knew she was covered with a layer of dust. She lifted the heavy hair from the back of her neck, letting the soft breeze cool her neck.

  “After you have eaten,” Geoffrey stated. “Then I will find a secluded place for you to bathe.” The way his wife stood, holding her hair atop her head, caused her breasts to strain against the fabric of her gown, and Geoffrey found himself hard-pressed not to grab her.

  “I will look forward to it,” Elizabeth answered. She turned and walked toward the stream so that she would be out of the way of her husband’s duties.

  I also look forward to it, Geoffrey thought with growing anticipation. Tonight, my love, I will share my heart with you, tonight and forever.

  “My lord?” Gerald’s voice intruded on Geoffrey’s thoughts and he turned with a grunt of displeasure to give his squire attention. “You wish your tent placed in the middle of the camp?” he inquired of the knight.

  “Not tonight,” Geoffrey answered. He glanced about and then motioned to an area among the trees. “With the trees to my back, away from the men,” he decided. “And hurry with your task, Gerald. I would have dinner over and my bed made ready as soon as possible.”

  Gerald nodded his answer with his hand over his heart and quickly turned to see to his duty.

  It seemed an eternity to Geoffrey before the dried meat, bread, and fruit were spread before him. He guided Elizabeth to the tent and saw her settled beside him and then all but force-fed her.

  “You seem in such a hurry, my lord,” Elizabeth stated. “Do you seek rest early this eve? I could have my bath another time if it is not convenient.”

  “No!” Geoffrey answered, his voice gruff. “Finish now and gather your cape and whatever else you will need. We must be done before the sun disappears.”

  Elizabeth hurried to find her soap and cape and then followed Geoffrey. He seemed irritated and impatient with her, but Elizabeth searched her mind and could find no cause for his behavior. She raced to keep up with Geoffrey but refused to question him on his hurry. If he wished her to know his thinking, then he would tell her. She had learned that much in their short marriage, she admitted. Her husband kept his own council and she would have to be patient until he was ready to tell her his thoughts.

  Elizabeth and Geoffrey followed the bank of the stream a small distance, until it curved and deepened. The spot Geoffrey chose required ducking under several thick branches to reach the area, but the discomfort of the prickly thorns against Elizabeth’s arms was forgotten when she straightened up and saw the beauty surrounding her. Giant trees, posted like sentries, circled the enclosure. Branches reached out, acting as a canopy that allowed only narrow streamers of sunlight to filter through. The red and gold tones of the fading sun cast an eerie, almost mystical spell upon the leaves and grass. “Geoffrey, it is beautiful here! It is magical,” she whispered.

  “Not magical, only private,” Geoffrey corrected, smiling. “I followed the stream earlier, before dinner, with your dogs, and found this place.”

  Elizabeth nodded and sat down on the bank to take her shoes off. She finished the task and glanced up at Geoffrey. She stilled her action when she saw that he too was removing his boots. As she watched, Geoffrey continued to remove all of his garments.

  She knew she blushed, and felt foolish for it. Yet she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off her husband, mesmerized by the power and muscle he so casually displayed.

  “The sun paints you as a god,” she whispered. His skin was golden in the light, his raw beauty magnificent.

  Geoffrey shook his head and his thick black hair fell against his forehead. “Your foolish talk will land you in purgatory,” Geoffrey admonished.

  “I did not mean it as blasphemy,” Elizabeth stated.

  Geoffrey smiled at Elizabeth. “Need I be your maid to see to your undress?” he questioned in a soft, husky voice. His words were meant to tease, but his look, so full of passion and hunger, erased the jest.

  Elizabeth felt his warmth invade her. She could not return his smile but only stare at Geoffrey. Slowly she raised her hand, and Geoffrey took hold and pulled her to her feet. Without a word, he began to remove her clothes. First he released the leather belt surrounding her hips, and then lifted the bliaut over her head. Next he pulled the chainse from her and finally, the ivory-colored chemise. His hands were careful not to touch her breasts, though his fingers brushed the sides more than once.

  Geoffrey and Elizabeth stood facing each other for a long, silent moment, letting desire flow between them like a rising wind. When Elizabeth could not stand the distance any longer, she took a tentative step toward her husband. “Geoffrey?” His name was a plea, and Geoffrey knew for what she asked.

  “In time, Elizabeth,” he whispered. He turned and walked into the water and did not stop until the clear liquid covered his chest.

  Elizabeth took her soap in her hand and quickly followed Geoffrey. She let out a gasp when the water touched her. “It is too cold,” she called to Geoffrey, retreating a step. The water covered her hips and Elizabeth gingerly cupped some of the water and slowly wet her arms. Trembling, she lathered the soap and hurried to get her bath done. She turned her back on Geoffrey out of shyness as she scrubbed the dust from her body.

  “Come to your husband, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth turned, saw the distance, and frowned. “I am cold, Geoffrey,” she repeated. She held her lower lip between her teeth and waited, hoping Geoffrey would come to her.

  “I am waiting, wife.” There was laughter in Geoffrey’s voice and Elizabeth found herself smiling. “It is your duty to come to me,” he advised with mock gruffness.

  “I would always do my duty,” Elizabeth called out.

  She took a deep breath and began to walk toward Geoffrey, letting the water cover her breasts and shoulders. And then she stopped, bracing her legs against the current. “Now you must come to me, Geoffrey,” she said. They were just a few feet away, the frigid water lapping against both of them. She was about to tell him that she would be completely under water if she ventured any farther, and to remind him also that she could not swim, lest he had forgotten that fact.

  Geoffrey’s gaze stopped her from forming the words, from thinking coherently. She could say nothing, only meet his stare as the smile left her face. She was becoming bewitched by his gaze, so hot and demanding. He was calling to her without speaking a word. She heard the command with all of her senses and did not hesitate to answer.

  They both took a step toward each other at the same instant. And then Geoffrey’s arms were around Elizabeth’s waist. He pulled her toward him, locking her legs between his, letting her feel his desire.

  “I had thought to bathe you with your soap, to savor each touch against your skin, and then to bathe you with the love words all gentle women yearn to hear.” His voice was gruff and halting as he continued, “I have never wanted anyone as I want you, Elizabeth. My aim was to woo you this night, to play the tender pursuer.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened with her husband’s declarations.

  “Now that the time has come, wife, I find I do not know the words of wooing, and admit that I am lacking in the discipline and patience for the task. Had I taken your soap and tried to bathe you, the bath would have been forgotten and I would have taken you then and there.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of Elizabeth’s mouth. “You call wooing a task, my lord?” she asked in a soft voice.

  Geoffrey looked so serious and purposeful, and Elizabeth was both amused and disgruntled by his words. “Geoffrey, I do not have much patience for wooing either. I would hear your feelings without the flowery words, and be most content.”

  Geoffrey looked surprised and then frowned. “What know you of wooing?” h
e demanded.

  “Very little,” Elizabeth admitted as she rubbed her fingers across his rib cage. “It just seems to me that saying words of love to each other should not be considered a task.” She pulled at one of the soft hairs on his chest to underline her words.

  Geoffrey stilled her hands by placing her arms around his waist and then began to stroke the length of her back. “It is much like learning to yield the blade,” Geoffrey commented.

  “I do not understand,” Elizabeth replied, tilting her head back to see if he was jesting.

  “This wooing. It requires practice,” Geoffrey explained.

  Elizabeth laughed, ignoring her husband’s frown. “There is no need, my lord. Courting is for those who have not declared their love for each other. I have already told you what is in my heart.”

  “But I have not explained my feelings for you, Elizabeth.” Geoffrey sounded exasperated. “I know what you wish to hear and I would get on with it,” he muttered.

  “You have my full attention,” Elizabeth replied in a soft voice. Inside she was fairly screaming with joy. She felt like laughing and weeping at the same time. Geoffrey loved her, just as Elslow had predicted.

  “You will be serious,” Geoffrey demanded, pinching the curve of her bottom.

  Elizabeth nodded, rubbing her face against his chest.

  “I had considered that when I was older and had given up many of my duties, then I would find time to tell you that I cared for you,” he began. He was distracted from his speech when Elizabeth began to place soft kisses on his chest.

  Elizabeth used her tongue to circle and stroke Geoffrey’s sensitive nipples and heard his sharp intake of breath.

  “Elizabeth!”

  “I love you, Geoffrey.” A bare whisper, inhaled like an aphrodisiac, arousing Geoffrey’s senses, releasing his heart.

  “And I love you.” So quietly spoken, so joyfully received.