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Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt

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by War Of Hearts. txt (lit)


  embrace. Arm draped over Jeremy’s shoulders, he turned

  to the others with a laugh.

  “The man’s invincible,” he roared. “Why, I once saw

  him make a similar leap in a full suit of armor.”

  At this declaration, Alicen froze, eyes locking with

  Jeremy’s.

  The pain of betrayal he saw there scorched him, but

  before he could speak, her expression changed to fury.

  “More the fools we for doubting him,” she said coldly.

  “Or doubting the lengths he’ll go to win a wager.” She

  spun on her heel and fled through the crowd.

  Silently cursing his stupidity, Jeremy made to follow

  her, but Rhea stepped closer and touched his hand.

  “Stay, Captain,” the midwife advised. “She must needs

  be alone a little to think matters through. Seek her out

  later.”

  Torn, Jeremy glanced down at Rhea then back to

  where Alicen had disappeared in the throng. Once again,

  he’d callously hurt the woman he loved. He glared at

  Jason, but knew his own deceit had done him in, not his

  friend’s ill-timed proclamation. Sweet Jesu, why hadn’t

  he told her he could easily leap the span? Base need had

  driven him to seek a night of pleasure with her.

  His cunning may have cost him his heart’s desire.

  Shoulders sagging, he turned back toward Warrick

  and was immediately engulfed in a crowd of well-wishers.

  Burdened by despair, he received their congratulations.

  ***

  Jeremy paced his chamber like a caged animal,

  fighting his urge to tear Durham apart. Supper had ended

  over an hour before, and the castle had gradually quieted

  as its occupants settled in for the night. Alicen had not

  appeared at the meal. In fact, had not been seen since

  afternoon.

  Jeremy prayed that Ned and Rhea’s presence at

  Durham would prevent Alicen from returning to

  Landeyda. But he wasn’t certain it would.

  It seemed he’d thought a hundred times to search for

  her, but Rhea had warned against pursuit. And the old

  midwife knew Alicen far better than he. ’Twould be

  foolishness he could not afford.

  And if he pursued and managed to find her, what

  would he say? That love for her had caused him to deceive

  her? Nay, lust had overturned tender feelings. Now he

  waited in torment until his heart returned. If she ever

  did.

  At midnight a quiet knock riveted his attention. He

  rushed to throw the door wide, expecting Rhea on the

  threshold.

  Alicen stood alone in the dark hallway, the hood of

  her cloak drawn up over her hair, and gave him a hesitant

  smile.

  “May I enter?” she asked dryly.

  His heart reeled before thundering wildly, and he had

  to force himself not to crush her to him. Instead, he bowed

  and politely ushered her into the chamber.

  “I thought you’d not come,” he stated, unable to keep

  pain from his voice. “Lord knows you have reason enough

  to stay away.”

  “We wagered and I lost. I’m here to repay my debt.”

  Her declaration made it clear that given the choice

  she’d not be there. His chest felt pinched by blacksmith’s

  tongs. She tensed as he reached for her, and panic seized

  him.

  “Alicen, forgive my baseness! But it has been so long

  since we..., I mean I..., you seemed so angry when—”

  Realizing he babbled, he trailed off. He massaged his

  forehead, then met her gaze, searching her face for a sign

  of forgiveness. When he spoke again, his choked voice

  nonetheless was calm. “I’d never expect you to excuse

  such trickery, but you must believe my deep regret.” He

  gave her a tight smile. “You needn’t pay the wager.”

  Alicen’s fragile control threatened to crumble beneath

  his sincerity. In truth, she wished to be there, yet she

  resented his tactics. This resentment, and knowing she’d

  come to him on her terms, steadied her. In anticipation

  of their lovemaking, she’d drunk an herbal potion of rue

  and savin. Though she’d gladly bear Jeremy’s child, she

  knew not of his desire for a babe. She’d no wish to discover

  he merely sought temporary pleasure with her.

  Nervous, she removed her cloak, draped it over a

  chair, then smoothed the cowl. Avoiding eye contact, she

  examined the room. The furnishings were Spartan: one

  large coffer for clothing, two chairs and a rug before the

  hearth, a table beside a window embrasure. The large

  curtained bed. Tapestries depicting the hunt adorned two

  walls, Jeremy’s mail and weapons another. Altogether

  functional and impersonal.

  Feeling the loneliness of the place, she turned and

  saw the need in his eyes. Pain twisted inside her. Until

  then, she’d never been certain that he missed her. Loved

  her. With quick strides she closed the distance between

  them and launched herself into his arms.

  “Hold me.”

  He crushed her to him, tangling his hands in her hair,

  kissing her as if she were water and he dying of thirst.

  “Alicen,” he groaned.

  They embraced with raw intensity—hands, lips,

  bodies straining to touch as intimately as possible.

  Jeremy pulled back long enough to divest her of her

  dress. His tunic followed. Then he carried her to the bed,

  there to resume his fevered caresses. He ripped her

  chemise in his haste to remove it, but he was too lost in

  emotion to care. She untied his hose, and that quickly he

  was as naked as she.

  They came together in a wild, intense culmination of

  their reunion, the only sounds moans of pleasure and

  incoherent love words. Pillows were swept from the bed

  and sheets tangled in a passion too fervent to be further

  contained.

  Twenty-two

  “Noooo!”

  Alicen lurched to a half-sitting position, flailing blindly

  with her fists. Jeremy had all he could do to stop her

  from striking him as she lashed out against invisible

  enemies.

  “Alicen! Awake.” He managed to control her thrashing

  by holding her close and murmuring soothingly, “Steady,

  lass. You dreamed, sweetling, ’tis all. There’s naught to

  fear. ’Twas just a phantom of the night.”

  Green eyes flew wide, the terror he saw there gradually

  leaving as she recognized her surroundings. Her breathing

  calmed to a more normal rhythm. Glancing at the hour

  candle beside the bed, Jeremy saw they’d slept only a

  short time after their heated lovemaking had exhausted

  her. She snuggled her head beneath his chin.

  “They pursued me.” Voice hoarse, she shook with

  dread. “They caught me in the woods.”

  “Shhh,” he crooned, smoothing her hair back from

  her face. “You dreamed. Don’t be afraid now.”

  Her eyes were huge. “’Twas so real.”

  His embrace tightened. “You’re safe here.”

  “Aye, but you are not. In a few hours you’ll face battle.�
��

  Her voice nearly broke, but she mastered it.

  “I’ll return to you, Alicen.” His gaze was intent.

  She shuddered. “Would I could believe that. Believe

  a man who tricked me into his bed.”

  Her soft tone struck like shards of glass. “I only

  thought to keep you near,” he muttered, miserable. “Little

  wonder you hate me.”

  A frown could not hide the soft luminosity of her eyes

  as she stroked her hand down his jaw. “You, sir, are a

  cad.”

  Jeremy swallowed, her touch tugging the corner of

  his mouth into a slight smile. “To prove my contrition, I’ll

  obey any command you give.”

  “You’ll do aught that I desire?”

  Completely serious, he said, “I am your willing

  servant.”

  An impish grin lit her face. “Then walk the

  battlements, clothed as you are.”

  He started, caught the mirth in her expression, then

  slowly smiled. “You’re a hard woman, Alicen Kent, to send

  a soldier to die from exposure.”

  “You gave your word, sir.”

  “So be it.” He paused only a moment before adding,

  “But I’m bringing you along.”

  Grabbing her arm, he started to drag her from the

  bed.

  “Stop!” she shrieked, laughing and struggling to break

  away. “Brute! Leave be!”

  “You cut me deeply, woman,” he protested with mock

  affront as he released her, then joined her in bed. “I am

  dishonored.”

  She laughed again. “Methinks honor is too important

  to you,” she teased, mimicking his voice to perfection.

  An exaggerated sigh whooshed from his chest. “At

  least send me to my death with a kiss to ease my final

  hours.”

  “Oh, very well, but make quick work of this.” Closing

  her eyes tight, Alicen pursed her lips.

  With a laugh, Jeremy bent toward her and gently

  brushed her mouth with his. Her eyes half opened, and

  to his complete delight, she pressed her lips harder

  against his, the light kiss quickly flaming. Her arm

  encircled his neck, drew him down with her as she rolled

  to her back. Knowing she feared for his safety, for his

  return, he made gentle love to her, withholding his

  pleasure until she had reached fulfillment. At last he

  released his ardor, and when he climaxed, she again

  gained that peak.

  Afterward, Alicen clasped him in a warm embrace,

  her lips clinging to his mouth.

  Joy flooded him, but fearing his weight would

  discomfit her, he started to withdraw. She locked her

  hands behind his back, causing his heart to pound so

  hard he was certain she felt it.

  “Do I perceive that you wish me to remain, Mistress?”

  A startled look crossed Alicen’s face, then she blushed

  and tried to push him off.

  “What? A sudden change of heart?”

  “You’re heavy!” she protested, face now ablaze.

  Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “You did not

  think such a few moments ago.” He rolled to his back,

  bringing her along, still joined to him. “I’ll gladly bear

  your weight, my lady.” He grunted as though she were

  stout, then grinned.

  When Alicen’s lips thinned and she started to speak,

  he held his finger to her mouth.

  “Shhh! Talk not of gratitude. ’Tis there in your eyes.”

  “Why, you arrogant—”

  Alicen struggled to break free, but Jeremy’s muscled

  arms held her hips tight to his. Embarrassed that he could

  so accurately assess her feelings and then tease about

  them, she doubled up her fist and hit him square on the

  chest. She swung again, but he caught her hand before

  the blow fell and pulled her arm behind her back, laughing

  deep in his chest as she strained against him.

  She knew the futility of resistance, yet continued, even

  when he stymied all her efforts. Finally, growling in

  frustration, she bared her teeth and nipped him on the

  chest.

  “Ouch,” he yelped. “Bloodthirsty minx!”

  He rubbed the spot where her teeth had caught him,

  and Alicen lurched away, forcing him to give up his

  massage to grab her with both hands. They laughed as

  they tumbled about the bed, Jeremy trying to kiss her,

  she doing her best to avoid his kisses.

  He was nearly ready to cry stalemate when arousal

  returned in full measure, and he again filled her. Alicen

  stilled, eyes widening. Masculine pride brought a grin to

  his face, and he lifted his hips against her, watching her

  eyes close from the sensation.

  “I am insatiable with you, my lady,” Jeremy declared,

  raising his head to gently kiss her. Seeing ardor burning

  in her gaze, he dared to hope. He smiled and brushed a

  tumbled lock from her cheek, whispering, “Kiss me, dear

  minx. But this time, no teeth.”

  Alicen slowly lowered her mouth to his. He lay still

  beneath her hands. She caressed the muscled planes of

  his chest and abdomen, then kissed his throat, watching

  his muscles tighten at her touch. Her deft physician’s

  hands soon had him moaning with pleasure.

  When she touched the scar on his arm from the wound

  she had tended months before, she paused, gripped in

  sadness.

  “You’ve borne so much pain.”

  “’Tis of no import when I’m with you.” His fingers

  traced the line of her jaw, then trailed down to her breast.

  He stopped his caress, watching her intently.

  She gently pushed his hand away then stretched full

  length atop him, rubbing skin to skin. “Let me please

  you.”

  His breathing quickened as she slid slowly down to

  cover his chest with kisses. She knew what he caused in

  her—pleasure so intense she thought mayhap she

  dreamed it—and she wished to return the favor. When

  her mouth closed over one of his small nipples, his

  delighted groan made her smile.

  She suckled him as he had her, enjoying her power

  to pleasure him. A strong yet gentle man—she thrilled to

  the feel of him beneath her lips, between her thighs. She

  took his other nipple carefully in her teeth, running her

  tongue over it while Jeremy shuddered and grew even

  harder within her.

  “Alicen,” he gasped, pulling her face up to his.

  “Sweetling, how you please me!”

  He claimed her mouth as his hips began to thrust

  upward against her, and she soon matched his rhythm.

  Then he showed her yet another manner of achieving

  ecstasy, and she met his raging desire with emotions

  equalling his own.

  Much later, she held Jeremy as he slept, biting her

  lip to keep from weeping. She brushed a lock of hair from

  his forehead and softly kissed his temple. When he rode

  out to battle at first light, her courage would equal his,

  and not even he would know of the fear threatening to

  bring her to her knees. But now, in the dark of night,

  dread permeated her soul. Sh
e fought that dread, fought

  the tug of sleep. If this was to be the last night she’d ever

  lie with Jeremy, then she would not waste it in slumber

  or fruitless worry. Instead, she would spend the remaining

  time with him recalling and committing to memory every

  moment they had shared.

  And she would pray that God would safely return to

  her the man who owned her heart.

  ***

  “They’re charging, Captain!”

  Jeremy moved Charon into line as fifteen of Harold’s

  knights rode down on his seventeen. Thick woods edged

  the crossroads on all sides, reducing the benefit of

  superior numbers and limiting all but frontal assault.

  “Our foe is desperate,” he called to his men. “They

  grow reckless.”

  His orders were to keep Harold’s troops from gaining

  refuge at Escomb or retreating to Harold’s keep at Raby,

  and so he and his men guarded the road to the enemy

  camp.

  The sound of helmet visors slamming into place mixed

  with the building crescendo of destriers in full charge

  stirred Jeremy’s blood. Yet he calmly adjusted his shield

  and positioned his lance. A glance down the line to each

  side told him every man had done likewise.

  “I’m for the lead rider,” he shouted. “Mark the griffin

  upon his shield.”

  As coolly as could be expected in the face of the

  oncoming phalanx, the others called their marks. Then

  they started forward in a controlled trot, eighteen abreast.

  When the enemy had closed to twenty rods, Jeremy

  signaled the charge.

  “On! On!”

  The two lines met at a dead run, the impact shaking

  the ground. Jeremy’s lance shivered in his hand,

  splintering with a resounding crack against his foe’s

  shield. Yet he failed to unhorse his foe, so drawing sword,

  Jeremy closed in.

  All around them men and horses fell. The smell of

  blood filled the air, but Jeremy ignored that and the

  sounds of clanging blades and dying men and destriers,

  concentrating completely on his enemy.

  His shield warded off the enemy’s blows as Jeremy’s

  sword pounded back. They battered each other for several

  frenzied moments, until Jeremy managed a particularly

  vicious strike which dropped his opponent’s guard. That

  slight opening was all he needed. With one clean thrust,

 

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