Velvet Touch

by Catherine Archer

  The knight had removed his tunic and wore only an opennecked white shirt over his dark hose. Her gaze moved over the thickly muscled arms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of the shirt, then fixed on the deeply bronzed patch of smooth chest. She wondered if that skin would still hold the warmth of the sun that had kissed it with its heat.

  Fellis flushed, realizing her thoughts had gone too far. She stammered, “I…pardon me, sir, I had no wish to disturb you. I did not know of your presence.” She made to back away.

  He halted her with a raised hand, seeming to cover the distance to the short doorway in an instant. “Nay, lady, do not leave. You are not disturbing me.”

  “Nonetheless…” she began. Heaven help her, she seemed to lose all thought of propriety in his proximity.

  He made a soft noise of irritation as he reached for her arm. “Please, I have said you have not disturbed me. Do you mean to run every time we chance to meet?” As if realizing he was still holding on to her arm, Stephen released her slowly with a self-deprecating laugh. “I fear I am most unpopular of late. No one at Malvern seems to have the slightest interest in even passing the time of day with me.” He pointed to his own wide chest, then to his horse. “Hence I am spending my time in the company of the only being in this keep who seems to hold me in high esteem.”

  Her eyes again fixed on that smooth flesh and she barely heard the last of what he said. Fellis felt her body flush with a surprising warmth that seemed to spread from her chest outward, and found herself unable to look away from the rapid beat of his pulse there.

  “Am I so very disagreeable that none of you can even speak with me?” His troubled gaze beckoned hers.

  As her eyes dropped, she blushed a deeper crimson.

  Why did he affect her so even now?

  She tried to force her mind to focus on what he had said. It was not fair of her family to ostracize him so. Stephen could not help that he had come bearing unwelcome news. He was only acting out of his own duty to the king.

  But that did not mean her father or mother would be able to accept that news more readily. Fellis knew that her mother had been at her father to send Sir Stephen back to the king with a politely worded refusal. She had overheard them arguing as she passed her father’s chamber the previous evening.

  As for herself—Fellis sent the knight a quick glance from beneath her dark lashes—she had her own reasons for avoiding the all too attractive knight.

  But compassion would not let her walk away now, no matter how difficult it might be for her. She must learn selfdiscipline where he was concerned. It was the only way.

  Stephen Clayburn was a guest in her home, far from his own world. She could not treat him ill.

  With the decision made, Fellis found she had little notion of what to do next. Entertaining young noblemen was something not in her experience.

  But try she would.

  Raising herself up straighter, Fellis said, “I am most sorry that you have been treated rudely.” She was heartened to find her tone sounded quite sincere and polite, so she went on. “It is not our usual custom to be so inhospitable. I can only beg your indulgence toward my parents in that your visit, and its purpose, has come as a considerable shock to them.” She looked at him then, her expression unknowingly dismayed. “And to me.”

  He appeared disconcerted for a moment, his eyes growing dark with what she thought was sympathy and it seemed as if he were about to speak. But he closed his lips and looked down. When he did reply, Fellis had the distinct feeling that what he did say was not what he had been going to tell her.

  His tone was polite. “I am the one who should be asking for forgiveness. Your family did tell me of their feelings, so I should not be surprised that their hospitality has been…shall we say, lukewarm.” He smiled at her then, the sheer charm of it making her catch her breath as she saw how it lit his dark eyes and made his angular face even more handsome.

  Fellis tore her gaze away.

  Despite her resolve to control her reactions to this man, it was a moment before she could trust herself to speak evenly. “’Tis not your doing, Sir Knight. You but follow the orders of the king…” She halted painfully.

  “Let us change the subject, shall we?” he said, as if sensing her discomfort.

  She nodded slowly, without looking at him. “Yes, let us.”

  Stephen indicated the apples she held. “The animals must surely love your presence here if you are always so generous.”

  Fellis looked down at the bag of fruit, long since forgotten by her. She removed one of the apples from the bag and held it up to his inspection. “These are getting a bit old.” She had to make a conscious effort not to take a step backward when he moved toward her, resting his arms on the top of the stall door. Even with the gate separating them, she was incredibly conscious of Stephen as he studied the shriveled red morsel.

  “It looks as though your apples might have suffered a touch of frost.” He chuckled, and she felt the sound ripple pleasantly along her skin. The horse nickered at the sound of his master’s laughter and drew her grateful attention from the knight.

  “What is he called?” she asked by way of searching for a safe topic of conversation.

  “Gabriel.”

  “Might I?” She turned to the stallion, who had come forward and was eyeing her curiously and her apple covetously.

  Stephen stepped aside. “Of course, only be careful for he is a wily beast.”

  Her eyes widened. She couldn’t help wondering if the term could apply to the man, as well as his horse. Gingerly she put forth her hand. But the stallion hesitated, and she spoke in that same soft tone she had learned to use with the others. The horse stretched his neck forward and took the apple from her fingers with dainty care.

  Stephen made a soft sound and she turned to him, finding he had moved closer, his gaze on her with quiet intensity. Fellis’s face was mere inches from his, her breath mingling with his as their eyes met and time stood still.

  Her heart thudded in an uneven beat and she could not think past the swirling awareness inside her. Perspiration beaded on her upper lip and when she licked at it with her tongue, his gaze focused there.

  Gabriel nickered again, breaking the spell.

  Clearing his throat, Stephen leaned back but continued to watch her, saying huskily, “He is not like to make friends so easily. Mayhap you have charmed him as surely as all other males in your vicinity.”

  She could make no reply to such foolishness, knowing that it was nothing more than courtly patter. Even so she noticed that her hand was shaking and drew it close to her side so as not to let him see.

  He went on more normally and she wondered if she had imagined the previous intimacy of his tone.

  “You obviously have a way with horses,” he complimented.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Nay, I only give them a treat. I know not even how to ride.”

  Stephen simply looked at her, for it took a moment before the words sank in. She did not ride. The very idea was completely foreign to him. He told Fellis that most gentlewomen learned to ride at an early age. Else how could they go out hawking or travel from one place to another with any degree of comfort.

  Fellis replied that she had not done these things. Mary Grayson had kept her from all such pursuit in her desire to see her daughter learn the ways of duty and poverty that she must experience as a nun.

  Stephen’s lips tightened, for this thinking was foolish. As a baron’s daughter, and with a proper dowry to recommend her, Fellis could easily have aspired to become nothing less than an abbess in choosing the spiritual path. Such a woman wielded as much power as a man in her own world. She would be expected to manage not only the spiritual wellbeing of those under her guidance but also oversee the financial, physical and clerical details of her lands. She would be counted upon to entertain and also to visit other powerful church figures

  Unconsciously Stephen shook his head. No matter how one looked upon it, Fellis had been ill pr
epared for her future, whether it be as wife or nun. And that he could do nothing about. But he could do something about what occurred now.

  He looked into her blue eyes and saw Fellis watching him with obvious confusion and question. He realized he had been lost m thought for too long.

  Quickly he answered her unspoken query. “I was but thinking on what you said. Wouldst you care to learn to ride?”

  She replied hurriedly, her eyes wide with surprise at the suggestion. “Nay, there is no need.”

  “Aye, there is need,” he replied, wishing he did not find it so difficult to take his gaze from hers. “Your husband may wish for you to travel with him at some time. On horseback is much less tedious and slow than by wagon.”

  “I…” she began. “Then perhaps I should ask my father to see to it.” She looked up at him, clearly trying to appear unconcerned as she shrugged. “In the event that I am married.”

  “There is no need to trouble your father,” Stephen said, his tone deliberately casual. He chuckled with irony. “I have little enough to occupy my time. I should be happy to teach you.”

  She looked at the ground again.

  The light in the stable was dim, and Stephen could not read her expression when she turned away, but he sensed that she was not pleased.

  Leaning closer to her, he said, “Lady Fellis, please, I offer only out of friendship. I have been riding since I could walk. It is the same with the rest of my family, including my sister, Elizabeth. Truth to tell, she is a better horseman than the rest of us.”

  She glanced up at him in surprise. “You have a sister?”

  A fond smile lit his eyes. “I do and there’s none dearer to my heart. I’ve missed her greatly since she married some weeks ago.”

  When she continued to study him with surprise, Stephen cocked his head in question. “Do you find that so very difficult to believe?”

  She blinked. “Nay, sir.” She laid her hand over her chest. “It seems you know so much of me, and yet, I know naught of you or your life.”

  Stephen shrugged. “There is no mystery to me and if ’twill make you easier, I am happy to share what there is.

  “I am the middle one of three brothers. Henry is the eldest, then comes me, and lastly Peter. Elizabeth was born between myself and the youngest. My parents died of plague some years past.” He could not keep the sadness from his voice as he spoke of them, but he went on. “Elizabeth, Peter, and I went off to live at court. Henry, who was with the Black Prince’s army in France at the time, returned home, married and had a child. Through our family’s connections, I became a messenger to the king. After a time Peter was fostered to our father’s friend, the Earl of Norwich, and it was just my sister and I.” He shrugged. “We had grown accustomed to each other.

  “Now with Elizabeth wed, I am alone.” He paused then, disconcerted at the loneliness in his own tone.

  He nearly started when she laid her hand on his sleeve in sympathy. She said softly, wistfully, “I have no siblings and thus no real certainty of what ’twould be like to be without them, but I can well imagine.”

  He looked into those fathomless azure wells of empathy and found himself lost. He was envisioning high proud breasts glimpsed through a curtain of silver hair, a sweetly curving waist and hips, creamy limbs.

  The reverie was interrupted by Fellis’s own voice. Blinking, Stephen focused once more on her and realized that Fellis was not speaking to him but had turned to address someone behind her.

  “Yes, Thad, I do wish for your assistance.” She swung around, indicating Stephen with a wave of her hand “Sir Clayburn has graciously offered to teach me to ride. Have we a mount suitable for that purpose?”

  Stephen eyed the pubescent boy, who had obviously just returned from enjoying his meal, for he still held a piece of roast fowl in one hand as he wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his roughly woven tunic. Meeting the lad’s respectful brown gaze, Stephen wondered self-consciously how long he had been occupied with his completely unwarranted thoughts of Fellis. He hoped it had not been for long.

  But when he looked to Fellis he saw that her hands were clenched tightly in front of her, belying her even tone and expression.

  Could it be that she was not completely unaware of his interest? And just perhaps, the notion was not entirely distasteful to her.

  But Stephen knew it was wrong of him to even think such a thing. What could either of them possibly gain by acknowledging the awareness that seemed to exist between them? ’Twould be nothing short of insanity.

  Opening the door of the stall, Stephen stepped out into the aisle. Being careful to avoid coming into contact with the woman who drove him to such madness without even trying, Stephen went to the boy Fellis had called Thad.

  The boy had not answered his mistress and Stephen’s tone was purposely brusque to cover his own disquiet as he asked, “Do you have a mount?”

  “Yea, my lord.” Thad nodded hurriedly, as if becoming aware of his tardiness in making a reply. “If you will but allow me, I will fetch it for you with all possible haste.”

  “That will be fine. We will await you in the yard.” The knight spoke to Fellis without meeting her gaze. “My lady.”

  She nodded, though she looked surprised at his suddenly brisk manner.

  Stephen had no wish to explain. It would be best to keep his distance, to allow her to think he was cold and remote if need be. But he wondered as he followed behind her, his eyes lingering on Fellis’s gently swaying hips if he had indeed made a mistake in saying he would teach her to ride.

  Could he keep his objectivity and be near her?

  The only thing that prevented him from withdrawing was the knowledge that they would not be truly alone. The courtyard was as public a place as one could wish for and surely there he could keep his wayward thoughts from straying where they dared not go.

  The dappled mare was clearly ancient and the only thing Stephen could see to recommend her was her extreme docility which was obvious as the serf led her out into the open.

  Glancing to Fellis to gauge her reaction to this poor mount, Stephen saw the ill-concealed apprehension on her features and realized this horse might do well enough. It was clear that Fellis would only have been frightened of a more spirited animal.

  Fellis moved toward him, trying to appear confident even as her fingers twined in the rough fabric of her gown. She stopped beside him, eyeing the stirrup that he held for her.

  He retained the reins, making a respectful bow to Fellis, his gaze encouraging. “Shall we begin, my lady?” His resolve to remain aloof wavered momentarily as he saw her nervousness.

  With grave trepidation, Fellis first listened to Stephen’s instructions on mounting, then allowed the knight to help her into the saddle, settling her knee around the pommel with his guidance. All this was accomplished with stern resolve as she told herself that it was too late to cry nay at this point.

  But her will to follow through wavered even more as she looked down and took note of how very far she was from the ground. Closing her eyes to still the swimming in her head, Fellis took a deep breath.

  Looking to Stephen, she tried to smile as he nodded and said. “You do well, my lady.”

  Feeling the quaking in her limbs, it was difficult for her to believe that Stephen knew of what he spoke. But she did not tell him so. “I…thank you.”

  “Are you ready to begin then?” he asked.

  She nodded, though she held tightly to the pommel as Stephen went to the mare’s head.

  At first Fellis was conscious of nothing save staying aloft. Then, as the minutes passed, she became less frightened and realized that ’twas not nearly so bad as she had at first thought. The mare stepped slowly and carefully as Stephen led her about the courtyard, giving Fellis an opportunity to become familiar with the gently swaying motion.

  To Fellis it seemed that Stephen must have the patience of Job as he continued to lead her about, giving her more than ample time to become accustomed to this
new experience.

  Finally it was Fellis who begged his attention. “Is there more, my lord?”

  When he turned to look at her, she grinned sheepishly. “I am no longer afraid.”

  He nodded, and for the first time since they began, Fellis took note of his expression. It was carefully distant, though polite.

  She frowned in consternation, biting her lip, and Stephen turned away.

  He spoke without looking back over his shoulder at her as he led the horse toward the door of the stable. “I will get Gabriel.”

  Thad was waiting for them and Stephen sent him for his mount with a cryptic order.

  He made no effort at speech while they waited and for that Fellis was glad. Whatever had happened to cause him to become so distant?

  She had no notion of what might have given Stephen reason for displeasure.

  A horrifying thought leapt into her mind. Could he have seen her reaction to him and been repulsed by it? She flushed, mortified at the very idea.

  Her gaze went to his broad back as he waited some distance away for his horse. The rigid line of his spine seemed an affront to her, as if he were dismissing her.

  Well, Fellis had no intention of spending time with Stephen Clayburn if he was disgusted by her. Raising her chin high, she glared at the back of his dark head. She would simply end this lesson here and now.

  So thinking, she made to swing her knee over the pommel.

  But at that moment Thad came from the stable, leading Gabriel, and handed the reins to Stephen.

  The tall man took them, while still holding on to the tether of Fellis’s mount. After a muttered thanks, the knight vaulted up into the saddle without so much as a by-yourleave, causing her to struggle to regain the security of her position once more.

  Thus, before she knew it, Fellis had been led through the outer gate and down the hill side from the keep. Their pace was a bit quicker than it had been when Stephen drew them along on foot, and Fellis was more occupied in learning to keep her balance at what she had to truthfully admit to herself was only a slightly faster walk.

  But she did learn and again began to enjoy the ride, except for the nagging shame at the back of her mind of the idea that Stephen Clayburn was repulsed by her. Could his previous assertion that the deformity was not distasteful to him be nothing more than mere words, said to gain favor with her—to make her agree to do what he wanted her to do?