A Time for Love

by Lynn Kurland

Maude put her hand over her racing heart and closed her eyes. She would die if Edith discovered what she’d done, she was certain of that. There was no mercy in that woman’s soul, despite her pretty tones.

  But damn her, what did she expect? For Maude to stand there, doing nothing, watching Robin fall tinder that blond witch’s spell?

  If only she hadn’t dropped the bloody bow before she’d managed to get it around the corner.

  Well, at least the guards hadn’t marked her. She was both flattered that she was able to escape notice so neatly and insulted that she was able to escape notice so neatly. Many a man had thought her memorable.

  Many.

  She took one final, cleansing breath and opened the door. The passageway was refreshingly cool and pleasant and she felt quite calm as she made her way along it.

  To the kitchens, of course. There was no sense in lingering about in a place where there were no witnesses to any mayhem that might be combined against her.

  Especially by Edith of Sedgwick.

  Maude shuddered and quickened her pace.

  22

  Anne shifted in her chair, then forced herself to turn her attentions back to her stitching. She had much to be grateful for, she knew, not the least of which was the fact that she was in Gwen’s solar and not her bedchamber. Things indeed could have been much worse. She looked up and smiled at the sight of her companions. Miles was sitting next to her, reading. The twins were playing chess in the corner. Amanda was laying out for them all an enormous list of Robin’s flaws and Isabelle was chiding her for the like.

  It was, on the whole, a most typical morning.

  Or it would have been, had she not feared for her life every step she took outside the lord’s bedchamber.

  She wondered if Robin felt the like when he went into battle. It was odd to think that someone else moved and breathed with the thought of another soul’s death consuming them. Nay, battle was not for her. She very much suspected she wouldn’t have the stamina for it.

  A movement startled her and she looked to her left. The only other occupant of the chamber was Edith of Sedgwick. Anne had been faintly surprised at Robin’s having allowed Edith to join them in the solar, but no doubt he had his reasons. She suspected that Robin felt sorry for the girl. After all, she’d had to endure Sedgwick for several years. That and the fact that she hadn’t been able to escape her brother’s foul presence even at Artane was likely enough reason to pity her.

  Anne watched her and wondered about her. They were of an age, and Anne wondered why it was Edith had never found herself a husband—or, more to the point, why Edith’s sire had never found a husband for her. She wasn’t uncomely and she wasn’t unpleasant to have speech with. Though Anne had to admit that there was something in Edith’s eyes that she couldn’t dismiss.

  A coldness.

  Edith caught her staring and Anne looked away quickly. She took up her stitchery again and made an effort to look busy. She could only be grateful that it was almost sunset and time to cease working. She’d passed far too much of the day in speculation and that was never good for a body. What she needed to do was force Robin to sit and have speech with her. He’d passed the evening with her the night before, but there had been little in the way of conversation. He had brought the steward up and they had talked far into the evening about matters that would arise today in Artane’s court. Anne had listened and remembered, that she might tell Rhys that Robin had done well—at least as far as her opinion went. His questions had been piercing and unrelenting. Anne had suspected the steward had been very much relieved when he’d been allowed to go.

  The sudden jingle of a bracelet almost wrenched a scream from her.

  “By the saints,” she gasped. “What was that?”

  Isabelle held up her arm. “Robby gave it to me.” She looked at Anne, a puzzled expression on her face. “Haven’t you seen it?”

  Anne forced herself to take slow, even breaths. As she looked at Isabelle’s wrist, an unruly, impossible thought assailed her.

  Could Isabelle be behind this?

  She shook her head sharply to clear it. Never had a more absurd notion come into her mind. There was nothing but deep affection between her and Artane’s youngest daughter. Not only that, it was impossible to believe Isabelle capable of such malice. Nay, ’twas foolishness.

  “It’s beautiful,” Anne managed.

  “’Tis the second one he bought me,” Isabelle said, twisting her wrist this way and that and watching the bracelet. “He said the first one was uglier, though, and perhaps ’twas a good thing he lost it.”

  Amanda snorted. “He can hardly hold a thought. It shouldn’t surprise you that he couldn’t manage to keep hold of your bracelet.”

  “How kind of him to find you another,” Edith said, smiling. “He is a good brother.”

  “Aye,” Isabelle said, giving Amanda a pointed look. “He is at that.”

  “You must wonder, however,” Edith said, “where it was that he lost it.”

  Isabelle shrugged. “It matters not to me.”

  “I think,” Edith said slowly, “that I’ve seen one like it.”

  “Have you?” Isabelle asked.

  “The location escapes me,” Edith said with a frown. She looked up and smiled brightly. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. ’Tis enough that Robin found you another.”

  “Aye,” Isabelle agreed. “And I’m happy someone else besides me thinks so. Anne does, of course, but Amanda is truly impossible when it comes to Robin.”

  Anne watched Isabelle and Edith carry on an animated discussion of Robin’s good points. Amanda snorted and muttered her way through the same list, leaving Miles chuckling now and again. But no one else in the chamber seemed to find anything unsettling about the girl. Anne shook her head. Perhaps she was the one who was going daft. Edith had likely had a miserable childhood. Perhaps ’twas only that which Anne saw lingering in her eyes.

  The door opened suddenly and the lord in question himself stood there. Anne looked up at him and couldn’t squelch a small tingle of pleasure at the sight. She resolutely pushed away any thoughts of how long she might enjoy such pleasure. For the moment she was home and Robin seemed determined to keep her well within his reach. She could hardly ask for more.

  Edith stood suddenly, her sewing dropping to the floor. Anne watched as Robin retrieved it for her, then handed it to her. As Edith passed him out the door, she favored him with the same smile she gave to everyone. Anne couldn’t help but think that it was tinged with something.

  Triumph?

  Anne clapped her hand to her forehead. By the saints, she was losing her wits. It had to be too much confinement. Perhaps Robin had learned something that day that might purchase her a bit of freedom.

  “Miles, take the children back to our chamber,” Robin said shortly.

  “Children?” Amanda echoed. “Just who do you think—”

  Anne found herself relieved of her sewing and drawn to her feet before she knew what Robin intended. He put his arm around her and led her to the door.

  “Nick will be up later to see how you fare,” Robin threw over his shoulder.

  He paused, looked up and down the passageway, then pulled Anne out with him. She found herself tucked securely at his side as he made his way to the stairwell. She was surprised to watch him draw a dagger before he preceded her down.

  “This is madness,” she whispered.

  His only reply was a grunt.

  Once they had reached the lower floor, Robin again drew her close and walked with her down the passageway. His guards were outside the bedchamber door.

  “Anything?” Robin demanded.

  “Nay, my lord,” said one. “Nothing.”

  Robin sheathed his dagger, then led Anne inside the chamber. He led her to a chair, but Anne shook her head.

  “I’ll pace for a bit,” she said. “I’ve been idle too long this day.”

  “Would that we could both take a turn about the lists,” he said grimly. �
��I too have suffered too much confinement this day.”

  “Did you learn aught?” she asked, coining to stand next to him.

  He knelt before the hearth and brought the embers back to life. “Aye, more than I ever wanted to know about the pettiness of mankind.”

  She smiled at his disgruntled tone. “You’ve sat with your sire often enough on these things, haven’t you? It should have come as no surprise.”

  He scowled at her. “Aye, but it was never my own sorry self trying to mete out justice. By the saints, Anne, why can these souls not treat each other kindly?”

  “Why indeed,” she mused.

  He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and pursed his lips. “Is that a barb especially for me, Lady Anne?”

  She shook her head with a smile. “For us both, my lord.”

  “After today,” he said, “I vow I would be happy never to bicker again.”

  “Even with me?” she asked.

  He paused. “Aye,” he said. “Especially with you.”

  Damn him, would he never cease to take her off guard? She cleared her throat, desperate to redirect his attention. The very intensity in his eyes made her nervous.

  “Could you say the like about Amanda?” she asked, grasping for something to distract him.

  He looked up at her with a glint in his eye. “She is my sister. You, however, are not.”

  Before she could recapture the breath she’d lost hearing that, Robin had risen, dusted off his hands, then made himself comfortable in a chair. He looked up at her.

  “Come here.” He patted his knees.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Come sit here. Now.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  He hooked a stool with his foot and dragged it in front of him. “Here then. I want you over here.”

  She lifted her eyebrows as far as they would go. It would have been more effective if she could lift only one as Robin and Nicholas could. She hoped her look was haughty enough as it was.

  “Now why would I want to come over there when you haven’t the manners to ask me politely?”

  He leaned forward. “Because you don’t want a chivalrous knight. I’m sure of it. Now, come you here while my humor is still sweet.”

  “Why?”

  “Your place is to obey me, not question me. Did my mother teach you nothing?”

  “She taught me to think for myself!”

  “More’s the pity.”

  She looked at him narrowly. “What are you going to do? Throttle me?”

  “As I said before, you are not my sister. You’re safe from that fate.”

  Anne considered, but before she could make up her mind just what he was about, he had risen, led her over to the stool, and very gently sat her upon it.

  “My concession to chivalry tonight,” he grumbled as he sat down behind her. “Are you close enough to the fire? Too close?”

  “Fine, but what—”

  He put his hand on top of her head to keep her from turning around. “I’ve never met a woman who could talk as much as you do. Your silence would please me greatly.”

  She opened her mouth to let fly a retort, then she felt his hands trying to remove her wimple and veil. She didn’t wear them much, as a rule, but Robin had insisted that morning that she might have her hair covered and thereby retain some anonymity.

  “Vexing contraptions,” he grumbled.

  “Robin,” she said, swallowing hard, “what do you?”

  He sighed so hard, he blew her veil over her face. “I plan to brush your hair,” he said in annoyance. “If you could just let me be about my work!” He gave a hearty tug, and her headwear came off in his hand.

  She felt his hand slide gently down her hair, his touch belying the gruffness of his tone. And speech deserted her. She heard Robin’s chair scrape against the floor as he moved closer to her. She knew he was closer because his knees were touching the back of her arms.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed convulsively the moment she felt the brush touch her scalp. By the saints, she could scarce believe she wasn’t dreaming. Nay, that was his hand wielding the brush so hesitantly, as if he feared to hurt her. And he thought himself ruthless. It was perhaps well none of his men could see him at present or they would have had a different tale to tell.

  She trembled as he pulled the hair gently back from her face.

  “Hurt?”

  “Nay,” she whispered.

  Once he was certain no tangles remained, he began to drag the brush through her hair with long, chill-inducing strokes.

  She shivered.

  His hand stopped. “Should I cease?”

  “Aye, if you don’t value your skin.”

  He snorted out a laugh. She looked over her shoulder at him, surprised. It had been years since she’d heard Robin do anything akin to it. But he only put his hand atop her head and turned it around again.

  She closed her eyes and simply enjoyed. She waited for Robin to grow bored and stop, but he seemed perfectly content to do nothing but continue with his work. He brushed her hair, then he began to trail his fingers through it. Finally he merely skimmed over it with the flat of his hand.

  “I can see why you cover your hair,” he said quietly.

  “Can you?” she asked. “It compares poorly with Amanda’s and Isabelle’s. Theirs is so rich and dark.”

  “And here I was thinking yours was like pale, spun gold,” he said, sounding amused. “I thought you covered it not to shame them.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from turning around to look at him in surprise. “You didn’t.”

  He smiled and the sight of it was so beautiful, she could scarce look at him. “Anne,” he said, with a slow shake of his head, “you do yourself too little credit.”

  “I have eyes that work perfectly well,” she said tartly.

  He took her hands in his. “As do I, and I know what I see. You’ve no reason for shame in their company, for you are indeed their equal.”

  She felt her jaw slide down, but could find nothing to say to that. Surely, he didn’t think her beautiful.

  “Well,” he said, frowning a bit, “perhaps not Amanda’s equal.”

  She shut her mouth with a snap. There, now he began to sound more rational.

  “Her tongue sours some of her beauty, I think, whilst yours does not.”

  She watched as he brought her hands to his mouth and kissed them. A shiver that started in her poor, captive fingers worked its way down her arms and up to her head. She was certain her hair was beginning to stand on end. His smile faltered and he looked at her with a seriousness she had rarely seen him wear.

  “Anne . . .”

  Anne watched in astonishment as he leaned toward her. By the look on his face, she very much suspected that he intended to kiss her.

  And that was enough to fair send her falling off her stool in surprise.

  She watched one of his hands reach toward her and slide under her hair to touch the back of her neck. Robin bent his head, his eyes never leaving her face. She didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare blink, didn’t dare even think too hard lest she break the spell.

  He was going to kiss her.

  The moment she had waited for the whole of her life was about to commence.

  “Anne,” he whispered, his lips a hand’s breadth from hers.

  And then a fierce banging on the door almost sent him tumbling into her lap.

  Anne caught him before he pitched fully into her arms. He straightened and blinked, as if he’d just been struck strongly on the head.

  “Robby,” a voice called, accompanied by more banging. “I’ve brought supper. Open up.”

  Robin blinked at Anne. He looked as dazed as she felt.

  “I’m going to kill him,” he managed. “I vow I’ll do it this time.”

  The banging on the door continued. “Hurry. The trencher is heavy!”

  Anne watched Robin heave himself to his feet. He stomped across the chamber and threw open th
e door.

  Nicholas barged in, elbowing Robin in the belly to gain passage. Anne watched him shove supper into Robin’s hands, then cross the chamber to her. She couldn’t even smile. All she could do was look at him, mute.

  “What have you done to the girl?” Nicholas exclaimed. “She looks positively bewildered.”

  “He brushed my hair,” Anne whispered.

  Nicholas sat down in Robin’s chair and made himself comfortable. “I’m ready for a demonstration, then. Robby, come show me how ’tis done.”

  Nicholas was summarily hauled to his feet by his hair.

  “State your business, then go,” Robin growled, shoving his brother before he set supper down on the floor.

  “And leave you alone with her? Never.”

  “Have you any tidings for me?” Robin barked.

  “Nay.”

  “Then begone. We’ve no need of you.”

  “I disagree—”

  Anne watched Robin propel Nicholas into the hall with all the efficiency of a shepherd’s hound. The door was slammed shut and bolted. Robin turned slowly and looked at her. Anne could do nothing but stare back at him. She watched him take a deep breath, then put his shoulders back.

  She had the feeling he would not be thwarted in his plans this time.

  And that was enough to weaken her knees so greatly she wasn’t sure she could stand.

  He marched purposefully across the chamber toward her. He stopped before her, took her by the arms, and pulled her to her feet. Anne swayed, then put her hands on his chest to steady herself.

  Robin wrapped one arm around her waist, then slid his hand under her head again to cup the back of her head.

  “Oh,” she said involuntarily. By the saints, she had never expected to have these kinds of tingles overcome her at the mere thought of kissing Robin of Artane.

  She had certainly never felt the like when Nicholas had kissed her.

  And then she had no more time for thinking. Robin bent his head, gathered her more closely to him, and captured her mouth with his. There was no other way to view it.

  It was no polite kiss.

  She shivered.

  So did he.

  She found herself slipping her arms up around his neck. It seemed the thing to do, because she was sure that way she would have a better chance of using him to keep from falling to her knees. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the devastating sensations that rocked her to her very core. He kissed her again and again until she wondered if she would ever again take a normal breath.