Velvet Touch

by Catherine Archer

  Finally she could stand the silence and her own tormented thoughts no more. She called out to him. “My lord, please, may we return now?”

  He stopped and turned to her, looking as though she had called him away from some far distant place. “I…yes. If that is your wish, my lady.”

  She held her head high. “It is. And I believe I am ready to hold my own reins now.”

  “Do you…”

  “I do,” she interrupted.

  With nothing more than a skeptically raised brow, Stephen stared at her. Fellis squared her shoulders.

  She motioned toward the horse in irritation. “Do you see, Sir Knight. She is most gentle and hardly likely to carry me off. In fact I believe she wants nothing more than her own stall and some oats after this day’s work.”

  Looking at the mare, Fellis knew Stephen could not help seeing the fatigue in the baleful brown gaze the horse raised to him. How could he imagine any threat from her?

  Slowly he nodded. “You speak true. But mind stay close in case aught goes awry,” he said as he maneuvered his stallion close and handed her the reins. Using his gloved hands to manipulate her fingers, he showed her how the reins should be held before swinging away.

  Fellis barely paid him heed, so grateful was she to be free of his control.

  Having watched Stephen closely as he guided his own mount Fellis pulled the reins in the direction she wished to go. The mare turned toward the keep, where it stood on the rise to her left. Feeling somewhat more confident, Fellis clicked her tongue in what she hoped was a clear signal to the horse.

  Without warning, the mare surged ahead, leaping to a gallop as one possessed.

  Gasping with shock that the docile creature had suddenly turned wild, Fellis let go the reins and grabbed for the pommel with both hands.

  She heard Stephen call out behind her but was powerless to stop the animal’s headlong rush as she raced across the greensward, then up the hillside. The land beneath the horse’s hooves disappeared in a sickening green rush that made Fellis long to close her eyes to stop the rolling of her stomach.

  But she could not. Though she was helpless to halt the mare, she was too frightened to take her eyes from their course lest some horrible fate take them.

  And then as the force of the wind whipped at her, tearing the wimple and veil from her head, then tugged her hair from its pins and tossed it about her head in mad abandon, she felt a strange thrill. A rush of exhilaration heretofore unknown to Fellis Grayson, dutiful daughter and future nun.

  As the mare raced across the drawbridge, Fellis realized the cause of their headlong rush. The animal was simply crazed to return to her own comforts and cared not for the desires of the two-legged being upon her back.

  This knowledge drove the last of the panic from Fellis’s mind. She even found herself laughing in glee as she caught a momentary glimpse of the guard’s incredulous face when they raced through the gates.

  Behind her she heard Stephen’s voice call out. “I am coming, Fellis.”

  She found a grin widening her lips. The foolish man believed she was screaming in fright. Did they all think she was such a spiritless idiot?

  This nearly dimmed her amusement in the uproarious ride as they raced toward the stable and Thad, who waited in the open doorway. But the look on Thad’s face, when he saw what was happening and rushed to come to her aid, brought her humor back. The silly boy nearly got himself trampled when he placed himself between the mare and the door to the stables, his eyes widening till Fellis could see the whites all round them.

  At the last possible moment Thad seemed to recognize the danger he was in, for he veered out of her path. After that Fellis was only just able to remember to duck her head as the horse dashed inside the stable. There the mad gallop came to an abrupt end, and her arms were nearly pulled from their sockets as they took the jolt. And even though she was holding tightly, Fellis came dangerously close to being tossed straight over the mare’s head.

  There was a loud thundering of hooves behind her, and Fellis swung around in the saddle to see Stephen draw up short, leaping from the saddle in one graceful motion.

  Standing in the doorway behind the knight, and snowwhite with fright, Thad seemed to realize how close he had come to being trampled and bolted from the scene.

  Stephen ran to take the reins, his worried gaze searching her face anxiously. “Dear God, Fellis, are you all right?”

  Looking down at his handsome face, his lips lined with fear for her, Fellis couldn’t help contrasting Stephen’s obvious concern to the remote detachment he’d shown over the past couple of hours. She was glad that he could not know the way the sight of him tugged at her heart. She lifted her chin, refusing to let him see how much hurt he had caused her. “I am well, Sir Clayburn. There is no cause for alarm. Once I realized the mare was only trying to get back to her comfortable stall and a meal, I quite enjoyed myself. It was most exhilarating.”

  “Exhilarating,” he gasped. “You enjoyed yourself? Have you no sense?”

  She straightened her slender shoulders, unaware of the fetching image she presented to him with her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling and her hair flowing about her. Stephen was hard-pressed to keep from pulling her down into his arms. He wanted to hold her until he stilled the anxiety he felt for her.

  She replied cooly. “Were you afraid you had lost your precious pawn?”

  Without fighting it he allowed anger to rise up and mask his more ragged emotions. “Are you completely mad, woman? You could have been killed. Even though the horse was only returning home, she could have taken a misstep in a rabbit hole, or veered over the side of the drawbridge at that pace. You are not dealing with a fleet-footed mount at her peak, but with a clumsy old nag who could easily have killed you or herself.”

  For a moment he saw apprehension darken her eyes but she covered it quickly. And despite the circumstances, Stephen was aware of an intense feeling of admiration for her spint.

  Her pink lips pursed obstinately, drawing his gaze.

  His eyes fixed on her mouth, and Stephen felt a sudden rush of desire that could not be stilled. And he made no effort to try.

  Reaching up his arms, he pulled her down to him. With torturous deliberation he allowed her to slide slowly down the length of him, his hands molding the gentle swell of her hips. Heat rose in Stephen’s belly and he closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet warm woman scent of her.

  Fellis. She was a heady mixture of innocence and spirit, and he felt drawn to her as no maid before her.

  When he opened his eyes again Fellis was looking up at him, her own lids heavy, her breath coming quickly through parted lips.

  He knew he was going to kiss her—had to kiss her.

  But just as he bent to close the distance between their two mouths, there was a loud blaring of the horn on the guard post outside.

  Confusion clouded Stephen’s mind as she started away from him—confusion and thwarted desire. He looked to Fellis in question.

  She answered his unspoken query. “We must be under attack.”

  Though Fellis was trying to concentrate on what was happening outside the stable, it was difficult. The interruption had come so abruptly that the yearning awoken in the past moments was still very near the surface. She found it impossible to meet Stephen’s eyes.

  For she could not deny the knowledge that he had very nearly kissed her, and far from rebuffing him, she had surely led him to believe she was eager for that event. She who had never so much as been alone with a man before Stephen came to Malvern.

  Fellis’s face flamed.

  When she did raise her head to cast the knight a quick glance, he seemed equally uncomfortable. She watched Stephen rub his palms over his cheeks, as if he were not sure what to do next.

  Without another word, she turned to go out into the courtyard and he followed. Outside, chaos ruled. A crowd had gathered near the main gate. As Fellis and Stephen moved toward them, she saw that a short, wiry man seemed to
be at the heart of it. Fellis thought she recognized him as one of her father’s crofters. Surely she had seen him at one of the monthly manorial courts.

  Several of her father’s soldiers and one of his knights had joined the group that clustered about the crofter. Their faces were grim.

  She could hear the knight, Arnold, speaking as she pushed her way to the front. “We have sent for Lord Grayson in the event that he did not hear the horn. He is out inspecting the fields behind the castle. I am certain he will return anon.”

  At that very moment, her father, mounted on his favorite silver stallion, came galloping through the main gates.

  He rode toward the group, pulling his mount up short as he reached them Then with the lithe grace of a younger man, he slipped to the group, removing his gauntlets as he did so.

  He greeted the crofter with a terse question. “What has occurred, Dan?”

  The fellow began his tale without hesitation. “My Lord Grayson, my farm has been raided by the Welsh this very day.”

  There was an outcry of anger from those assembled, but Fellis’s father raised his hand for silence. He was obeyed.

  Dan went on. “I was working in the fields when I heard my wife screaming. I ran to the cottage to find that one of the outbuildings was afire.” He gulped, his eyes welling as he looked to his overlord. “My lord, my eight-year-old boy, my only living son, was inside.” His tone grew angry then. “If I had not grabbed the ax and hacked through the wall, he would not have lived. As it is, the smoke nearly took him. The lad’s abed as we speak.”

  Stephen spoke up, drawing all eyes. “How do you know it was the Welsh who perpetrated this evil?”

  Looking up at the knight with a frown, Dan seemed to wonder who he was and by what authority he would ask the question. Dismissing Stephen, he turned to his overlord to answer. “My wife saw the devils as they ran for the forest. What will we do, my lord? I will join the attack against them. I wish to avenge the harm done to me this day.”

  Fellis heard this with growing horror as she looked to her father to see what he would decide. In the past such acts had brought swift retribution from Richard Grayson and his men. She feared the fighting would escalate until more senseless deaths occurred on each side. The circle of rage and revenge had been going on all her life.

  Why could it not end? As the question formed in her mind, she realized that mayhap it could.

  She was the one who might make peace come about. Drawing her courage up from inside her, Fellis turned to her father, who had not yet made a reply. She said, “Father, please may I speak?”

  He looked at her then as if just becoming aware of her presence. “Aye, Fellis. What would you have of me?”

  Though the decision was made in her mind, Fellis found the words stuck in her throat as she tried to form them. “I would that you do not strike back for this offense.” At his expression of shock, she hurried on. “Please, do not let us continue this feud with the Welsh.”

  Her resigned gaze went to Stephen. “Sir Stephen has come to offer a different solution, one that has been decided on by King Edward himself. Mayhap it is time to try his way rather than ours.”

  Richard Grayson only stared at his daughter for a long moment and she saw the pain that her sacrifice would bring him. “Do you know what you are saying, my daughter?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I do.”

  Richard Grayson swung around to look at the confused faces of his people. “’Tis time I told you all what has occurred. The king’s messenger—” he indicated Stephen with a wave of his hand “—has arrived for the purpose of opening negotiations for a possible marriage between my Fellis and Wynn ap Dafydd.”

  There was a horrified gasp from those assembled.

  The Lord of Malvern raised his hands to halt any words of disagreement. “’Tis not my wish but that of King Edward.” He continued, appearing as if the next words cost him dear in pride. “We will not act against our enemies at this time, but allow Sir Stephen to try the king’s solution. If that is what my daughter truly wishes.”

  “It is, Father.” She looked into his unhappy gaze. “All my life we have lived beneath this threat. Until Sir Stephen came I had not even considered that it might really be changed. Mayhap now it can be.”

  There was a murmur of dissent from the crowd.

  Richard Grayson turned from his daughter and halted them with one look. “The decision is made to go forward with the negotiations. I am master here. I will hear no more on it until we see what comes about.”

  Fellis’s gaze followed her father’s as he turned to Sir Stephen, who appeared surprisingly dismayed to Fellis. She would have thought he would welcome this news.

  Richard Grayson said hollowly, “You have our leave to go forward. But remember this—should Wynn continue to attack my folk after you have made your proposal to him I shall be forced to protect what is mine. On that be assured.” With that he turned, vaulted into the saddle and rode from the keep.

  Fellis watched him go, feeling Stephen’s gaze upon her. Squaring her shoulders, she swung around to face him.

  He spoke to her alone, as if he had forgotten the others. “This is what you want?” His troubled expression confused her even as it drew her to him.

  Resolutely she turned away, raising her chin. She needed none of Stephen Clayburn’s sympathy, had no trust in it.

  How dare he continue to pretend she had any real choice in this. The good of the people of Malvern must come first and if marrying Wynn would assure the peace, then she must do so.

  Still without looking at him, she answered in carefully controlled tones. “I have said as much.”

  Chapter Five

  Stephen rode along at a comfortable pace as he left one patch of woods and the land dipped down into a wide stretch of pasture. The rain that had begun that morning had lessened to a slight drizzle, but the sky was low and dark gray. When he inhaled he caught the scents of damp earth and sharp wet pine.

  Stephen felt no physical discomfort, as his green sablelined cloak was more than warm enough to keep off any chill that April might offer. What he did feel uncomfortable about was the way Fellis had agreed to go forward with the marriage negotiation.

  He wondered yet again if he had done the right thing in calling to her attention her responsibility to her people. At the time it had seemed the only way to help her to see the situation as it was. She had admitted that her heart was not fixed on taking the veil, that she would do so only because she had been told it was her duty.

  Stephen’s conscience was not salved by telling himself that Fellis might even end in finding happiness by wedding the Welshman. He had sensed her unspoken desire to have a husband and a family.

  And even as he went over these things in his mind, Stephen knew his unhappiness was caused by his own discomfort with the notion of Fellis marrying anyone. He shook his head, knowing this was madness. He was here to bring about that very outcome.

  Unfortunately, the more he knew of Fellis the more he was attracted to the silver-haired maid.

  He remembered how she had reacted as the crofter told them the story of his son’s near death in the fire. She’d gone as pale as ivory. It was clear to Stephen that the tale had weighed heavily on her mind. He could not help admiring her concern for the child, the son of a lowly farmer on her father’s lands. He’d watched as she made her decision, then faced him squarely. There had been no visible sign of fear and uncertainty about what she was doing, but he had known it was there.

  The courage she had shown in hiding it had made him all the more drawn to her. That show of quiet strength gave just another glimpse into the passion of her character, making him see her as a woman set apart from others, not only by her incredible beauty, but depth of character. She was a woman who would be a true companion to a man.

  But he reminded himself that she was not for him. Even if he were willing to admit that he really did want her for himself, Stephen had long since decided that he
would not allow himself to be so caught up in another person, so dependent on them for his happiness. To do so was to risk losing them and thus his sense of equilibrium. It had happened when his parents died, and he was not willing to experience such deep pain and disorientation again.

  He feared that to permit himself to care for Fellis would be to chance all. She was not a woman he could love in half measures.

  He was here to do his duty to king and country, nothing more.

  That duty did not include allowing himself to have tender feelings for Fellis. He was ready to acknowledge the incredible physical pull she had for him. But naught else. And by his own will that bodily temptation could and would be resisted.

  She would go to the Welshman. That fact must not leave his consciousness.

  Prodding with his heels, the knight hastened the pace as they started up the incline that led to the next growth of timber. He would do well to pay heed to where he was going.

  This day’s meeting with Wynn ap Dafydd could prove to be more important than anything that had occurred thus far. If he hoped to make the Welshman see the sense of what he was going to say, Stephen would have need to keep his wits about him.

  It was only after Stephen had ridden some distance into the wood that he noticed a peculiar stillness in the air around him. Up until this point he’d been aware, if only subconsciously, of the sounds of birds calling back and forth, the rustle of small animals in the underbrush as they scrambled out of the horse’s path.

  Now there was nothing, only a strange, heavy waiting.

  He slowed Gabriel, looking about him carefully. The forest was thick and heavy with undergrowth. The tight canopy of branches had kept out most of the rain and the ground beneath his stallion’s hooves was relatively dry. But an occasional drop did make its way through the greenery to dot his cloak and glisten on his hair. The eerie silence continued and only the sound of crackling brush underfoot marked the passage of horse and man.