Wild Lavender

by Nicole Elizabeth Kelleher

  “Can you forgive me?” he whispered.

  “For what should I forgive you?”

  “For being an idiot.”

  Anna remained silent. When he sighed, she pressed her body closer to his. She knew that Larkin had been thinking about what he’d asked. She had walked away from him, angry because he had no right to judge the motives that had kept her tied to her husband. But she had burdened him with her story.

  So she patiently waited. When he finally spoke, his words were not those she expected. “You never told me about your dream.”

  “It was like all of the others,” she said. “Except the ending.”

  “What was different, Anna?” he murmured.

  “In this dream, I knew it was the last time. In truth, Roger no longer needs me. And he can’t risk keeping me alive. I know too much.”

  “So you’ve been training with Gilles, preparing for his final move against you.”

  “Or against my family,” Anna added. “His people have sworn an oath against us.”

  “His people? You mean soldiers from Stolweg?” he asked.

  “Not all of Roger’s people are from Stolweg, nor are they from Ragallach.” She let her words sink in before continuing. “And even at Stolweg, loyalties are split. Roger can be charmingly persuasive when it suits his needs. My own father was taken in by his smooth promises and, from the number of horses he continues to send us, must be completely indebted to him.”

  “And if your family could be protected?”

  She knew this was the answer he needed. Her response would cement forever how he would see her. Did it matter if she told him? She still felt connected to him but could not imagine them growing closer. Not now. Not after he had heard most of the truth.

  Anna took a deep breath to check her anger. “You are judging me, Larkin.”

  “But I—”

  “You are. You’re angry with me. I saw it in your eyes as clearly as I now see the stars. And I’ll tell you something else, Larkin. I’ll answer your question, but for a selfish reason. I need someone to know the truth.” She drew a deep breath, then began, “Just as he planned to supplant Lady Isabel with me, so has he found my replacement: my sister, Claire.

  “I sent Cellach, our master-at-arms, to warn my family, to give them a fighting chance. For when I return to Stolweg Keep, my family’s welfare will no longer be in my hands. I will no longer submit to him,” she explained. “And he will try to kill me. If he succeeds, he will force Claire to take my place. I won’t let that happen.”

  Touching the hideous ruby on her finger, Anna pulled hard, yanking it off. She held the ring aloft, staring at the blood-red stone. “Roger forbade me to ever remove this.”

  Lark examined the gem. “The ruby doesn’t suit you, Anna. I think I understand, though. It’s a symbol, isn’t it?”

  “It’s my reminder that this life I am caught in is but transient,” Anna admitted. “Rubies are fragile. It would take but a little pressure to crush this one to dust.” She slipped the stone into her pocket before turning to him. “You can’t kill Roger,” she forbade him. “I could tell you that I worry for my family’s safety, but the truth is that it is not your right. Nor Baldric’s, or even King Godwin’s.”

  “You mean to kill him yourself,” he deduced.

  “I must. You have to promise me, Larkin. Swear it on all that is dear to you. You will not kill Roger, not while I breathe.” Her words were so cold and final, she shivered. But she needed him to understand. If she failed in her attempt, Roger would kill her. Then, only then, Larkin would be free to do that which she could not.

  “You cannot fail, Anna,” he ordered, and she could hear the struggle in his voice. “I don’t understand what is happening between us, but I do know that you already mean too much to me. You’ve haunted my dreams for over five years. I cannot lose you. Not again.”

  “But your word, Larkin? Will you give me your word?”

  He sighed. “I promise you, Anna. You will have your chance. I’ll even help you. I could teach you…” He stopped midsentence when she looked at him as a tolerant parent regards a child.

  “Anna?”

  “Larkin?” she answered lightly to dispel the gloominess.

  The corner of his lip twitched, but then he grew serious. “You have my word. You’ll have one chance. I can promise you no more and no less.”

  Could she ask more? Anna didn’t know. But she was done talking. She hid her face in his chest, drawing in his scent as if storing the memory to draw upon in the future. She would always have their one kiss. If it was to be all she could ever have now that Larkin understood the extent of her dishonor, so be it. It would have to be enough.

  She moved away. “I need to sleep. Rina will need me in a few hours.”

  Surprisingly, he pulled her back against him and smoothed her hair. With her cheek against his chest and his arms about her, Anna fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Six—Daybreak

  As a soft halo of light stretched over the canyon’s sliver of heaven, Anna awoke. The fire had gone out, but its embers still glowed in the shadowy clearing. Larkin was asleep by her side, his arm draped across her waist. He hadn’t left her alone, she thought, despite knowing her secrets.

  Carefully, so as not to wake him, Anna raised her head to check on the horses. Tullian and Rabbit were dozing, and Rina was awake but calm. When the mare showed no signs that her labor had increased, Anna gazed at Lark’s still-sleeping face, and gently lifted his arm and sat up. Just as she was about to stand, he shifted in his sleep and came to rest with both arms about her waist, his head nestled in her lap. Her stomach grumbled softly with hunger. If she tried to dislodge him, he would surely wake. And he looked so peaceful, with his long, dark lashes dusting his cheeks, his mouth and lips for once relaxed.

  He sighed contentedly in his slumber with a wisp of a smile on his lips. If she could just stretch far enough, she thought, she might be able to reach her saddlebag without disturbing him. Her fingers snagged the strap on the second try.

  While he slept, she pulled out a late apple from the last of Doreen’s stores. Though no longer crisp, the fruit was sweet and juicy. With her grandfather’s dagger, she cut it into perfect wedges, removing the bits of core.

  She was halfway through her meal when Larkin, his eyes still closed, whispered, “You could at least share if you’re going to wake me so early.”

  Anna laughed and picked up a wedge. She touched his lips with the fruit. Her face hovered just above his, and the long tresses of her hair hung down around him like mossy vines. He chewed, his strong jaw working, his lips still smiling. Her body warmed in unexpected places just watching him.

  His eyes bored into hers, and her lips parted. She fed him another slice.

  “Careful,” he told her. “Right now, you’re looking at me like I was a piece of your favorite cake.” She blushed and tried to look away, but his voice dragged her back to stare at him.

  “I was having the most pleasant dream,” he continued, his words yet lazy with sleep. “I was lying in a garden with a beautiful maiden. My face was next to—”

  Anna quickly shoved another slice of apple into his mouth, stifling a giggle.

  When her fingers dipped back to feed him the last small slice, he captured them and pressed them to his lips. He licked her thumb, all the while holding her gaze. Then, slowly, he went from one fingertip to the next. “I wonder if your lips are as sweet as your fingers, Anna.”

  He propped himself up on one elbow and with his other arm brought her head to his. Then he kissed her, gently, taking her lower lip between his two and sucking. “Sweeter,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair before shifting them so that she was on her back and he was above her.

  A low growl emanated from deep within his throat. His hands sought to free themselves from her hair while his tongue played with hers. He dragged himself away from her lips to allow his mouth to move down her neck. His lips laid a searing path down her throat a
nd then back up to her earlobe. He nibbled on the tender flesh while his nose sent little puffs of air into her ear. She turned her face, her lips fought to find his. But he was in control again, and he kissed her slowly.

  “Anna,” he whispered, “open your eyes and look at me.”

  They opened, and were glassy. She murmured on an exhale of breath held too long, “Larkin, I don’t—” He kissed her soundly to stop her from speaking more.

  “We have hours, Anna. And we can stop any time you want.” Her hands reached around his neck to pull him down for another taste. His teeth nipped at her lips. His mouth sucked at her tongue. He left a trail of kisses down her throat to her collarbone while his hand skimmed down her arm to her fingertips and back. He allowed his fingers to brush against her breast, and she leaned into him. His lips found hers again as his hand claimed its prize.

  Lark loosened the thin ties that held the collar of her chemise. While her hands tangled in his hair, he kissed her breastbone. Through the fine linen of her blouse, he caressed her breast in lazy circles. Finally, the pad of his thumb rubbed across her nipple, and he heard her gasp in pleasure.

  He could feel her longing. When he pinched her nipple, ever so gently, she groaned with pleasure. His mouth steadily made its way to her breast, nosing her collar aside as he kissed and licked her exposed flesh.

  Lark delighted in the delicate panting noises she made; he had never dined on anything as sweet as her skin, and he inhaled her essence: horse and leather and the scent of lavender.

  He took his time trailing lips and tongue over skin. When his mouth discovered her breast, she arched in ecstasy. He pulled and teased, his teeth scraping the soft flesh below her nipple, his tongue pushing insistently at her firm, round globe. He raised his head to study its beautiful shape and then bent back to the dark rose areola. He took her nipple in his mouth, sucking and sucking, until he heard her gasping for more. It was only then that he moved his hand to loosen the fastenings of her breeches.

  • • •

  Deep down, Anna had always known it could be like this. When Larkin’s mouth moved away to capture her other breast, she growled her displeasure—until, that is, he suckled her again, plunging her back into the heady abyss. A mounting wave grew deep within. She had never felt such rapture, and, as nervous as she was, a thousand horses could not have dragged her away.

  Her body awakened and found its own rhythm. His long fingers inched lower to gently cup her mound. He was tentative, waiting for her response. When her hips lifted from the ground, his hand slid into her breeches, and his middle finger pressed down, stroking her and matching her motion. His finger caressed up and down, up and down, over and over. His head came up, and he was kissing her again.

  • • •

  As Lark moved his finger inside her, her gaze quivered. He continued pleasuring her, in and out. Her eyelids fluttered closed. “Keep looking at me, Anna. I want to see your face, your eyes.”

  Again and again, he plunged his hand between her legs; her hips thrummed. Deeper he drove his finger while his thumb dallied with that most sensitive bud. Higher he forced her until she came in a shattering climax. She stared into his eyes, and he watched her focus waver until she saw nothing, her body quaking with pleasure, driven higher by his thrusting hand.

  As her breath tripped, Lark kissed her again, whispering words he doubted she would recall. He waited and listened as her body calmed. Her eyes searched his face, and he knew she was with him once more. He thrust his finger again and sent another wave of pleasure ricocheting through her body. She came again, gasping, and moaned his name.

  “I want you to remember how I am looking at you, right now, while pleasuring you,” Lark whispered. “And later, when we are back at the keep, I’ll look at you just this way. You’ll remember how it made you feel.”

  She reached up and brought his face to hers, lips crushing lips once more. His hand was gone from between her legs, traveling up her stomach to capture her breast. After a soft caress, he pulled her tighter to him, not caring if she felt his arousal. He made no move to take her, only held her closer. They clung to each other near the sleeping embers of the fire as the sun’s first rays gave life to the day, holding on to the peaceful moment for as long as possible. Each knew that a day’s ride away, their friends—Anna’s people and Lark’s fellow guards—were attempting to find proof of Lord Roger’s treachery.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven—Rivalry

  The sun was just rising when Roger and his soldier reached the rendezvous point. His older brother was already there and waiting impatiently. Nearby, the man whom Gorman had sent ahead was waiting with his horse, now refreshed and ready for Lord Roger to take back to the keep. “Brother,” Roger said as he jumped from the back of his horse. “I trust you’ve read the note I sent and are aware of the predicament.”

  “I have, Roger,” he replied. “And for once, you have an idea that is not terrible. Father would approve if he were here.”

  “There’s no time for squabbling,” Roger said tiredly. “Do you have what I need?”

  His brother handed over a small pouch. “If you dilute it, we’ll have time to play with your quarry. In its pure form, death is instantaneous. You need only a few simple herbs to mask the flavor, and one to activate the poison; the list is in the pouch.”

  Roger had hoped to be quickly rid of Baldric and the guards; he hadn’t counted on his brother wanting to witness the execution, and more, taking part in torturing the helpless men. He hefted the pouch in his palm, burning a hole in it with his glare. Oh, would that he could avoid the unnecessary violence his sibling and father loved so much. If he didn’t acquiesce, it would be reported to his father that he’d shown mercy to King Godwin’s men, when in truth, he simply preferred expediency.

  “Right. Now,” Roger said, “go ahead and hit me. But make it count, for you’ll not get this chance again.” His brother peered into the surrounding woods before squaring up, and Roger snickered. “Don’t worry, Garamantes is not—” Before he could say more, his brother’s gloved fist struck out viciously, catching Roger on his cheekbone. His teeth rattled with the punch, and he blinked to clear his head. He was too late in seeing the drawn blade, and felt a searing pain as the dagger sliced through his sleeve and into his bicep.

  “You want them to think you put up a fight, don’t you?” Leaving Roger no time to recover, his brother coshed him in the temple with the pommel of his knife. Roger staggered and fell to one knee, and his brother knocked him the rest of the way down with his boot. Roger’s man stood nearby, knowing better than to interfere. “Much better,” Roger’s brother said, holding out his hand to pull Roger from the ground.

  Roger growled for reply. “There’s a clearing in the western woods, less than a day’s ride from Stolweg,” he seethed. “My man will show you the location. But stay far out of sight until we signal for you.”

  His brother wasn’t used to being ordered about by Roger, and he bristled. “And if I don’t, little brother?”

  Roger mounted the fresh horse. “You may not like it, but I am more knowledgeable about Baldric and his men than you are,” he said. “I don’t want you risking this mission because of your bloodlust.” Before his sibling could say more, Roger added, “Besides, my actions are not the only ones reported back to father.” He pulled his sword and wiped some of his own blood along the blade, then sheathed it. After tying off his wounded arm, he wheeled his horse around and set off for the keep alone.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight—An Expected Arrival

  Nestled in Larkin’s arms, Anna watched the streaks of dawn light up the sky and tried to comprehend the miracle he’d given her. Even thinking of it now sent ripples of bliss from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

  “What are you thinking about, Anna?” he murmured into her ear. She blushed. “Oh, I see,” he chuckled. “Didn’t you say that we have to remain with Rina for three days?”

  “Three days, two nights. Why?”

  His lip
s found her neck as his hand reached under her shirt to cup her breast again. “Because there is so much more.” His tongue made lazy circles on her neck as he teased her nipple into a hard nub. “If you want it.” When she moaned his name, he tipped her face to kiss her again. She hoped there would be enough time. As if to mark the dwindling hours, Rina trilled her lips.

  Lark stood and helped her to her feet, bringing her close to him so that he could kiss her. “Later,” he promised, and reached for her hand. Together, they walked to where Rina was laboring. The mare waited patiently, nibbling at tender shoots of grass. Anna placed her palm on Rina’s back and smoothed the trembling muscles under the skin. The horse pawed at the ground. With her hand on Rina’s abdomen, Anna waited for the contraction and counted, marking the time between the tightening of muscles.

  “How much longer?” Larkin asked her.

  “An hour, at the most,” she predicted. She rubbed Rina’s velvety muzzle. “You’re an old hand at this, aren’t you, girl?” The mare struck the ground again as another contraction came.

  “Then I’ll be right back with something to eat,” Larkin promised.

  As he walked away, Anna admired his lanky build, and the fit of his leather breeches. She grew warm anticipating the things he would do to her.

  She turned her attention back to Rina and ran through the list of items she would need on the off chance of trouble. She was checking that everything was in her saddlebag when Larkin returned, examining the contents of Will’s lunch from the day before.

  “Cheese, and fresh, crusty bread. Some roasted root vegetables too smashed to eat. There’s one small honey cake.”

  Anna grinned.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I was just thinking that perhaps,” she said, recalling his earlier words and pointing to the pastry, “that is a piece of my favorite cake.”