“This is wrong.”
“This is right,” she countered, her lips tingling under his, “if there is love.”
“I do love you, Isabel.”
Her heart soared at his declaration. She’d known since that day in the chapel, but he had not said the words out loud.
“Yet there will be naught but heartache from this.”
“Then our love will save us from that. Love me, Royce.”
With a growl, he moved over her and this time did not stop the kiss even when they were breathless from it. The heat between them rose and soon her skin was slick with sweat. She touched him where she could reach—his chest, his shoulders, his back. Sliding her hands down to his buttocks, she felt the strong muscles there and imagined how they would feel when he entered her.
When he rolled off her a bit, she thought he was leaving, but the touch of his fingers on her breasts eased her fears and stoked the fires of passion. The kiss ended, but she could not stop gasping as each touch ignited another spark within her until she wanted to scream from it. His mouth replaced his fingers on her nipples and she did scream, the feelings were so intense and still increasing.
Royce’s lips drew on her until the tips of her breasts hardened. So ardent were his attentions there that when his hand traced a line down from her breast to her stomach, she did not notice it. Almost. She clutched at his chest and his shoulders and her legs trembled from the sensations. The core of her ached for his touch and her hips arched to meet his hand.
Finally, finally, he slipped his hand between her thighs and his fingers into the wet heat of her center. She did moan then as her legs fell open and let him do what he would there. His mouth followed his hand down her stomach and she felt the ripples of pleasure move with him. He crawled over her and knelt between her legs, lifting her legs over his shoulders and kissing and licking a path down the tender skin inside her thighs.
She wanted to keep quiet and make no sounds, but her body had other ideas. With the first touch of his mouth on the throbbing flesh there, she screamed again. When his fingers and tongue danced over her there and something grew tighter and tighter within her, she heard the moans being pulled from her. Her sounds seemed to spur him on, for each one was met by a brief pause and then more kissing and fondling.
Her peak was coming. Isabel felt him slide his fingers inside her and then he sucked hard on the tiny exposed bud of flesh where all of the pulsing and heat seemed to come from. Everything within her exploded, releasing waves and waves of pleasure that moved through her body and her soul and her heart. But he did not stop. He was relentless, bringing her to this again and again until she could scream no more.
He lifted her legs off him and then slid up her body; each touch of him against her ignited heat once more. Even though she thought she was done, he had other ideas. As he reached her mouth, he took her hand and put himself in it, wrapping her fingers around his erection. Now he moaned as he moved against her grip and she felt him grow harder and thicker in her hand. She tasted her essence on his lips and in his mouth.
Royce moved up until he could place himself at the opening of her core. Their hands guided his hardness to her. Then he stopped and lifted his mouth from hers.
“Tell me now, Isabel. Say it now and I will stop.” His words were a gruff whisper, filled with passion and promise. “Tell me no.”
“Yes,” she whispered back as she arched against him, bringing him inside her. “Yes!”
He released her hands and thrust into her with all the power those muscles had promised her. He filled her and pulled back, almost leaving her empty. Then he lifted her hips and plunged again and again, groaning loudly himself at each thrust.
She could not breathe. She could not think. She could only feel and she felt every one of his thrusts into the center of her. The throbbing and aching increased again and she knew he would bring her to the edge with him. She lifted as he moved, drawing him in as deeply as she could, feeling every inch of his hardness within her flesh. And then it happened.
She heard her scream burst forth as though she was not inside herself. His loud yell of completion poured from him as he released his seed within her. Even though he had stopped pulsing inside her, he remained there, filling her emptiness as no one else could. Completely spent, she did not resist when he slid her leg over his hip and turned onto his side, all without ever pulling from her.
The last thing she remembered were the words he whispered into her ear as they lay together.
“I do love you, Isabel. God forgive me, but I do.”
The storm raging outside was of no comparison to the one raging within him. Guilt, anger, fear and still more desire surged in his heart and soul over claiming her as his own. Grief was there, too, at the knowledge that no matter her thoughts on this, there could be nothing between them.
He had taken what she had offered. He had marked her as his own with his mouth and his seed. He had lied to have her even as he told her part of the truth, for the whole of it would have scared her back into the storm rather than anywhere he was. So much for being an honorable man.
His thoughts wandered over what had happened between them and what was to come. She would regain her memory and return to her family and he would live out his life here without her. Convinced that nothing more could be, at least he would have incredible memories to savor when she was gone. Memories that could get him through times of weakness and wanting. Memories that would remind him to never over-step the life he knew he must live.
Isabel sighed in her sleep and he turned to her. He had slipped out of her wonderful body some time ago, but did not want to lose the touch of her on him. He shifted her to face away from him, straightened the blankets over them and fit himself behind her to sleep. She laid her head on his arm and he pulled her close with the other one, wrapping around her to keep her warm.
She slept like the dead, her breathing low and quiet. He should feel guilty over that as well. Emotionally and physically exhausted, she’d run to him for protection and he’d swived her without regard for her condition. Honorable? Ha!
An errant thought crossed his mind. What if her memory did not return and she wanted to stay with him? Could he have her and still keep his past secret?
The irony made him chuckle—she did not know her past and did everything in her power to remember it, while he knew his and did everything in his to forget.
But wait. He could tell her he had committed serious sins, acts against others, and that he had given up his life much as a pilgrim did to seek forgiveness. It was near to the truth. Of course, he knew deep within that forgiveness would never be his.
Or could it?
This was exactly what he had feared when the first crack had started in the walls he’d built around himself. She gave him hope. Her love made him think that the impossible was possible.
Why then was she there? If Lady Margaret was correct, then her appearance had a purpose and certainly it had to be one other than giving him hope…and sex? Was he expected to give her his protection? Offer her a life where she could be safe from the men who had plotted her death? Was that his role?
He needed to think on this when his head was clear and his body was not besieged by her nearness. When the storm had cleared and they returned to the keep, he would seek Orrick and Margaret’s counsel before making any decisions.
William snuggled closer to her and kissed her lightly on the head. As she had said, they had this night before reality intruded and fate did its worst. He would take the night.
Chapter Seventeen
Two nights passed before the storm showed signs of weakening. Isabel slept through the first night and day and he found her awake and watching him when he came back to lie with her during the second night. William had packed up everything in the cottage, for until she was gone, he would live in the keep.
That had been one decision he’d made. She needed him and he would be there for her. He did not let himself believe that they had more than
a few days to a few weeks, but he accepted that he needed to embrace all she offered during that time. When she was gone…when she was gone, there would be time enough to reclaim his solitary life and move back here.
He had not bothered to dress in the still-damp clothes, so he slipped back under the blankets and gathered her in his arms.
“Good even to you, Isabel.”
“Royce,” she said his name on a sigh as she stretched her legs and rubbed against his. His body reacted immediately to her touch. Turning in his arms, she kissed his chest then his neck and then his chin. Unable to resist, he leaned his face to hers and let her continue. He kissed her back once and then moved away.
“You were exhausted,” he said. “And you must be hungry. There is some bread and cheese and ale from the abbey.”
She rubbed her cheek on his. “In a minute or two. I have not slept that well since…since I left your care.”
He touched the place under her eyes where the dark smudges were. “Your lack of sleep has been showing.” The light of the candle he’d left burning illuminated her face. “And I added to your exhaustion.”
“Yes,” she whispered to him, laying her hand on his cheek. “You certainly did.”
He was trying to feel guilty about taking her with such passion and force, but the playful expression on her face and the satisfied glint in her eyes made that difficult.
“Isabel, I feel badly about misusing you. Do not make light of my behavior.”
She sat up and her black hair surrounded her like a curtain. Tussled from being wet and then her sleeping on it, its length fell over her chest and down into her lap.
“I do not feel used, Royce. I feel loved. Well loved.” She smiled at him. “But not abused or forced. You gave me what I needed last night,” she paused, and he interrupted.
“The night before that.”
“Truly? I have slept through a night and a day?”
“And nigh to another night as well.”
“Very well,” she said, waving off his words. “You seek to deflect me from what I would say, from what I would have you hear.”
“I would rather no words, Isabel. Words cannot be taken back when everything changes,” he said, pressing his fingers to her lips. “I know you were feeling unloved, unwanted and hurt by what you remembered. I wanted to banish those feelings from you and make certain you knew you were wanted and needed by me.”
“There, you said them for me.” She laughed at his expression, for he had indeed. She slid back and tucked a blanket around her. Standing, she walked to the table and fetched the bundles of food and the skin of ale and brought them back to the pallet.
How could she ever think she was not wanted? Even in the basest sense of it, with her beauty and grace and fair form, what man could look at her and not desire her? With her hair serving as her only cover, the soft ripeness of her breasts and hips were evident. What man would want to kill her?
Her husband.
“You look as though you ate something sour.”
He watched as she settled herself next to him on the pallet and she let the blanket fall to her waist. Her nipples peeked through the layer of hair and his mouth watered at the thought of kissing them again. He sat up and slid back against the wall, keeping the blanket over his legs and other now-obvious parts.
“Now you look hungry.” Her words carried no accusation, just a description of what she most likely saw on his face. He reached over for the loaf of brown bread and tore off a piece. He stuffed it in his mouth, chewed it quickly and swallowed.
“I am hungry. I have been waiting for you to wake before I ate.” The flash in her eyes told him she knew his real hunger.
She broke off a chunk of the hard yellow cheese and chewed it slowly. After washing it down with a mouthful of ale, she shook her head at him. “What were you thinking of when your face turned so…intense?”
“Your attacker.”
Her eyes glazed over as he could tell she watched the attack again in her thoughts. There was no pain or fear now, only remembrance. “I think I knew him.”
“I think the attack was planned by your husband and his brother.”
She blinked several times and nodded her head. “Husband?” she asked in a whisper then she nodded. “I think you are correct, Royce.”
He did not want to cause her more pain. “If you do not want to speak of it, we will not.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “The memories do not frighten me any longer. I suppose that now that they are clear, they will not haunt me again.”
“A noble couple attacked and killed and no outcry has rung throughout the kingdom. How can that be, Isabel?”
They were silent for a minute or two as they both thought on the question. It had bothered him since he realized that her husband had arranged to have her killed. Then, from her description of the attack, it would seem that his brother, selected to carry out the task, had turned on him as well.
“Do not dwell on that. For now, eat and rest until we can return you to the keep. Lady Margaret must be nigh to hysteria over the thought of you being out in this storm.”
She gifted him with a smile, but she was different now. “Do storms like this come very often here?”
He shook his head. “Not very often, usually once or twice a year. They blow in from the sea, across this corner of land and then out into the firth and north to Scotland.”
“How did you get here? I thought you were with Lord Orrick at the abbey?”
“I was. When the weather turned bad, he thought we should head back sooner rather than wait. I stopped here, wanting to gather up the rest of my belongings and bring them back to the keep.”
“Your horse? Is it outside?” She looked toward the window.
“It got away when I followed the dog to you. Do not fret. It will find its way back to the keep as it always does.”
“And then Lady Margaret will truly worry—a riderless horse returning in a storm.”
He nodded and smiled. Lady Margaret in that state of mind was not something he wanted to see. “I suspect, with the diminishing winds, that we will have an escort back shortly after dawn.”
She glanced at him, the blankets and their garments still strewn over the benches and chair. Then she looked at herself. “I guess that clothing will be necessary, then?”
“I fear so. ’Twould not go well if we greeted my men as we are now.”
She laughed, but again he sensed something was different, quieter, changed. She teased him, but there was less joy in her now.
“Would you hold me, Royce? Just hold me?”
He wrapped the remaining food and tossed it onto the table. Then he opened his arms to her and she moved into his embrace. Sometime later, she fell asleep and he moved them both down onto the pallet. But he was awake when the winds calmed and the rain stopped. William did not want to miss a moment of holding her close, for he feared this would be the last time.
Isabel closed her eyes and feigned sleep. Royce was right—she was exhausted from the last two days’ experiences. And now she was heartsick as well as brainsick. Turning away from him, she lay on her side and tried to sort out her feelings.
Royce was also correct about the man in her memories being her husband. As soon as he had spoken the words, she knew. But why could she remember nothing else?
During the time Wenda had taken care of her, the woman had mentioned that she thought this was her mind’s way of protecting her from things too terrifying to face. Was that it?
It all came back to the reason a husband would kill his wife. Was there some flaw in her so excessive he had to rid himself of her in this manner? Royce shifted closer to her in his sleep. His body was warm and hard and safe. She thought of his passion and her response, welcoming him into her body without hesitation.
Was that then her sin? Had she failed to be faithful to her vows? Had she given herself to men other than her husband and he needed to rid himself of a faithless wife? Her easy passion with Royce p
ointed to that. And she was definitely not a virgin when she lay with Royce last night. No, she had enjoyed that side of marriage, she was certain of it.
Was this her flaw?
She closed her eyes again and saw the attack as it had happened. Her husband, surprised by the attack on him, fell from his horse, bleeding profusely from the wound in his stomach. She tried to listen to his words more closely, but she had been dazed by the blow to her head.
“’Tis your fault, bitch. Your failure brought us to this.”
She flinched not only at the words, but also the vehemence with which he flung them at her. Hatred for her burned in his eyes. She did not see the same when he glanced at the brother who had stabbed him. It was only for her—the cause of his troubles.
A throbbing pain started in the front of her head and spread to the back of it. She rubbed at her temples, trying to ease the tightness. Then Royce’s hand covered hers and began to rub away the pain. Isabel relaxed at his touch and soon the growing tension was gone.
“Did I wake you?” she asked.
“I have been awake.” He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her neck. “I could not sleep knowing that with the dawn, this will end.”
“How much longer, then?” It was quieter outside, but she could not tell if it was growing lighter or not. The candle on the table had gone out a while ago.
“Not long enough,” he whispered as he moved his mouth over her ear, touching with the tip of his tongue. She shivered at the tickling, arousing sensation and moved back against him, feeling the proof that he was affected, too.
“Then hurry,” she urged. Isabel needed to feel his desire again. Just once more before she faced the rest of her life without him.
For in the dark of the night, she had realized that she could never be with him again, never offer a future to him. Until she could understand her failings in her life and in her marriage, she could not risk ruining his life. This idyllic time set against the storm raging outside would be their one chance to share their love. She leaned back against him and waited.
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