Velvet Touch

by Catherine Archer

  “About our conversation last eve.” When she gazed at him blankly, he clarified, “As to Lady Fellis’s wardrobe. Have you some plan of action in this matter?”

  She answered through stiff lips. “I have not.”

  “That is as I suspected. Therefore it is most fortuitous that I have conceived one of my own that I feel you will find most satisfactory.”

  She continued to watch him.

  Pleasantly he asked, “What is the name of the nearest market town?”

  “Glenmarket,” she replied when such a direct question was posed, though obviously with reluctance.

  “I shall be taking your daughter there to buy cloth.”

  Her expression, if he could credit such a possibility, became even more stubborn and resentful than before.

  “I will not attend you.”

  It was more than he had hoped.

  Hiding his elation, Stephen nodded. “That will not be necessary. Knowing how busy you are, seeing to the many details of running this keep, I would be most happy to attend the duty myself. It is the least I can do to assist, since the notion was mine.”

  He stood, determined to give her no time to argue the point. “I shall beg escort from your husband. He has agreed to allow me to see to this situation as I see fit.”

  That halted her even as she opened her mouth. Richard Grayson had made that much evident and she clearly had no will to defy him when he was obeying the wishes of his sovereign.

  With a final nod, Stephen added, “No harm will come to Lady Fellis. Of that you can be assured.”

  The knight then strode from the room.

  The chapel was not difficult to find, being down a long hall at the very far side of the keep. From outside the keep, one was easily able to locate its arched and steepled roof.

  As he went, the knight wondered what ill Fellis had done that her mother had told her to remain so long this day.

  Coming to a heavy carved oak door at the end of the passage, he pushed it open. He entered the church and looked about, expecting to see Fellis in one of the pews. But she did not appear to be there. Mayhap her mother had been mistaken, he thought as he took a few steps farther into the high-ceilinged stone chamber. But as he did so he realized he was wrong. There, kneeling on the floor in front of the altar, was Fellis. A rainbow of colored light filtered through the stained glass windows that ran along the outside wall and played over the silver blond hair from which she had removed the customary gray veil

  Stephen caught his breath at the sight of her. Her delicate profile bathed in that same gentle light was sweet as any he had seen on statues of the Madonna.

  Something must have alerted her to his presence for she turned at that moment. Fellis’s blue eyes went round with surprise even as she reached for the veil that she had set on the floor next to her.

  With obvious agitation, she placed it on her head and moved to rise. But as she did so, Fellis stumbled, nearly pitching forward. Stephen frowned as the damsel righted herself. She had been kneeling there for hours if he didn’t miss his mark. And no wonder she was stiff, the stone floor was surely cold as ice.

  “What are you about?” he asked in disbelief, reaching out to help her to her feet. Only the most zealous of religious devotees would suffer such discomfort in prayer, without even a cushion to protect them from the hard stone floor.

  Her slender fingers were frigid in his and Stephen could not keep from pressing them between his two warm hands. The feel of her soft skin against his made him want to draw her close, protect her from discomfort and harm.

  Fellis looked up at him in confusion, feeling as if all her hours of prayer that morning had been for naught. Now the few moments of peace she’d achieved seemed as a dream.

  Stephen Clayburn had only to touch her and she tingled with awareness despite the cold in her torso and limbs. All those hours praying for the strange feelings he awoke in her to be taken away had accomplished nothing.

  Had the Lord deserted her now when she needed Him most?

  Her mother had told her often enough that the sin of lust was the worst of all. It could entice you away from the true path by the very pleasure of it. That the feelings of sweetness it brought confused the heart and soul and made one believe that wrong was right.

  Fellis could only stare at Stephen with wide eyes and wonder why she could not be delivered from her own sinful thoughts. Just the feel of his strong hands on hers made her wish for him to touch other more intimate parts of her.

  Flushing brightly, Fellis jerked her hand from his grasp. Whatever was the matter with her, she could not fathom, but it could go no further. She did not even know this man. For all she knew, he could be the very devil himself come to tempt her.

  But as her eyes met the genuine concern in his dark ones, she knew inside herself that this was not true. There was no fault in Stephen.

  What really had he done but be kind to her, taught her to ride, helped her from her horse as he would any woman. But even as the last thought came, Fellis bit her lip in shame. How she had reacted, her pulse pounding while at the same time a heated languor made her want to mold herself to the hard planes and curves of his body.

  Stephen Clayburn could surely have his pick of court beauties. And though the knowledge was painful, she forced herself to remember that he could have no interest in her, a green maid with a twisted ankle.

  Nay, Stephen was no devil.

  He was exactly as he appeared, a gently reared knight bent on doing his duty. It was she who had misunderstood his actions. Her infirmity had further added to her isolation from members of the opposite sex until she knew not how to interpret a man’s kindness toward her.

  The difficulty between herself and Sir Stephen lay only in herself and her own reactions to him and his nearness.

  But even as she told herself all these things, he stood looking down at her and the longer he did the more difficult it became to breathe, her breasts seemed to swell to aching awareness. A shaft of light pierced the stained glass windows and caught in his hair, caressing it to fiery brilliance. Her heart thudded in her chest as she fought an urge to reach out and touch it, to see if it would burn her. For surely it would, if the feelings inside her were any indication.

  It was Stephen who broke the spell by shaking his head.

  “Fellis, I don’t know what to do about you.”

  “About me?” Could he know her feelings toward him? The thought was mortifying.

  He smiled softly, the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling attractively, and her heart turned over in her breast. “Aye. If only there was some way for you to see that you need not do this.” His gesture swept the chapel. “Never have I met a woman of more gentle and good heart. The Lord in His heaven can see the sweetness inside you. He could not expect you to kneel for hours on a cold stone floor. To shut yourself away from sunlight and laughter.”

  For a moment she could only stare at him, shocked that he would think such things of her. He had no idea what lustful thoughts burned inside her each night as she thought of him there in his bed just down the hall from her. Thoughts that plagued her even now in this holy place.

  She turned away, looking at the floor. “Mayhap I am not as you see me, Sir Knight.”

  She felt his compelling gaze on her down-bent head and could not resist the pull of it. When she faced him, those green eyes were dark with some indefinable emotion.

  He spoke then, softly. “Respectfully, I must disagree. The more I know of you, fair lady, the more I know that you are indeed a precious jewel among common stones.”

  Fellis could form no reply. For even though she found it difficult to give credit to the words, how could she say so in the face of the knight’s obvious sincerity. Her heart swelled and grew warm within her.

  He looked away, then swallowed before turning back to her, as if he too were fighting to control his emotions.

  Again he made a sweeping gesture that took in the beautiful chapel with its carved ceiling, polish
ed dark wood and carefully crafted stained glass. With stronger tone, he said, “You need not hide yourself here, Fellis. The world will not be any more cruel to you than to others. Do not be afraid to join us in our struggles.”

  The words came as a jolt after his previous sensitivity. Hide herself away? As she looked about her, Fellis knew a sense of resentment. How could he say such a thing?

  But then she began to ask herself why the words struck such a painful nerve. Was it because there was truth in them? Had she placed the church between herself and everything that might hurt her—between herself and men.

  Surely it was not true. It had been her mother’s wish that she join the church. Fellis had only gone along with her wishes because she had no choice.

  Or had she? Had the fear that any man she might meet would reject her because of her twisted ankle caused her to acquiesce too readily?

  Fellis did not know the answers to these painful questions. Her tormented gaze went to Stephen’s.

  Oblivious to her thoughts, he continued, “You have done much to show your strength and courage. In agreeing to marry Wynn ap Dafydd you will make a supreme sacrifice for the good of your family and all the folk of Malvern. It is time you began thinking of yourself, your future as a wife—and mother.”

  Fellis’s stomach turned with disappointment. He’d had her marriage in mind all along. Everything he’d said just now had been directed toward that and nothing else.

  He waved a hand to indicate her mode of dress. “Do you not desire lovely things…to make yourself ready for your bridegroom, as any expectant wife might.” The last words were said so slowly it was almost as if it pained him to say them.

  But in her confused and disappointed state, she could fathom no reason for that, so she dismissed it as nothing more than wishful thinking. Instead Fellis concentrated on what he had said. Is that what he wanted for her, that she should care for nothing but her own appearance and pleasure?

  “I…” she started, then hesitated at the fragility of her tone. Fellis had no wish to give away any more of her agitated state than she already had. When she began again, she was gladdened to hear her voice emerge more clearly. “The marriage is not a given, as yet.” She held her hand to her heart. “I have given my whole life to prayer and devotion to duty. What would you have me do, throw away all of my own values? To take up the life of some idle maiden? I know not how.”

  He shook his head. “Nay, I would not wish such for you. I can see how intolerable it would be.” He held his head at an angle as he looked down at her, his gaze willing her to heed him. “But you can begin to fill your life with things other than this.” He motioned toward the floor where she had knelt so long. “I have something to tell you. You know I have asked your mother to have a new wardrobe prepared for you?”

  She nodded, wondering what this could mean.

  “Well, there is need to purchase fabric for the garments to be fashioned. And we will go to Glenmarket to see to that.”

  She gazed at him m surprise. A trip to market for the sole purpose of buying cloth? For her?

  ’Twas ridiculous. And she said so. “It is too much bother for such a petty thing.”

  He put his hand on her arm and she started at the unexpected spark the contact caused.

  Stephen too seemed to be aware of something passing between them, for he looked away and quickly drew his hand back.

  But he made no further sign other than to run a hand through his hair as he went on. “It is not a petty thing as you term it. When Wynn asks for a meeting with you, you will have need of something suitable. As I told your mother, he must have no reason to feel insulted. As a nobleman he has the right to expect his bride to show him honor.”

  She gave him a long stare. “What had my mother to say to this outing?”

  He shrugged. “She said she would not be free to accompany us, but I assured her I could proceed without her assistance. And I am most certain your father will supply an escort of his own men so that the proprieties are met.”

  She was tempted to deny him. Stephen would not force her to go, and heaven knew he had enough confidence to purchase fabric without any assistance from her.

  But something stopped her from saying the words.

  This was an opportunity to go away from Malvern without her mother’s constant watchful attention to guide her every action. The thought was an unexpectedly heady one. She loved her mother dearly but did regret that more of her decisions had not been her own. More so since Stephen Clayburn had come than ever before.

  She looked back to Stephen. Even though she knew the outing was simply a way to further his own plans to see her married to Wynn, Fellis could not stop a thrill of excitement. For the first time in her life, Fellis would know what it was like to be escorted about by a man who was not her father.

  “I will accompany you.”

  She did not look up as he spoke, but she could hear the approval in his voice. “If it can be arranged we will leave on the morrow.”

  Still she did not look up, only nodded.

  He said, “Until then.”

  Fellis could not keep her eyes from the door through which he passed. Biting her lip, she suddenly wondered if she had made an error in saying she would go with him.

  Chapter Seven

  They left as he had planned at first light on the day of the market. Richard Grayson had made no demur about giving them an escort of four mounted men. He felt there was no way of knowing when they might be set upon by a band of Wynn’s men.

  Looking at the mounted guard who moved to surround Fellis as they readied themselves for leave-taking, Stephen was fully aware that her father’s men would act not only as protectors but also chaperons on this journey. He was sure they had been given direct instructions not to leave the young lady alone with the knight.

  A fact for which Stephen knew he should be grateful.

  In spite of everything he told himself about his duty and what he must do, he could not control his attraction to her. It was as if Fellis were a flame and he a wick. Every time he brushed against her, he flickered to glowing life.

  Why had he brought up the subject of her fears of coming out of the safety of her old life? It was none of his affair. Why must he always show the depth of his interest in her and her actions, when all he need do was get her away from the keep, find a way to bring up the subject of her future husband without distraction?

  That was his true connection to Fellis.

  But he hadn’t been able to stop himself from saying the things he had. He found himself wanting her to understand that she was the one who must choose the way she should live. That when she showed the world what she was made of, it could not help being awed by the spirit and strength of Lady Fellis Grayson.

  Her ankle would not matter to others when it no longer mattered to her.

  But Stephen knew he had no right to speak on such a personal subject.

  So thinking, he purposely kept his gaze from lingering on Fellis as he bade farewell to her father in the courtyard. Richard Grayson had one final instruction to add to those of making sure his daughter was well cared for and that they be back that very same night. He looked at Stephen, his blue eyes unwavering. “Mind you see that she has all she needs to go from my house as befits her station. The girl has not had much in the way of vanities. I wish her to purchase aught she desires.”

  He held out a fat purse, which Stephen took from him with a nod, saying, “I will see to it.”

  Richard Grayson backed away and Stephen went to Fellis’s side, where she sat mounted on the gentle bay mare. The knight looked up into her anxious blue eyes, and when he did, he saw not only that anxiety but also a glow of excitement. At that moment he resolved to give her a day unlike any she’d had.

  “Are you ready to depart, Lady Fellis?” he asked with all the courtly grace in him.

  She rewarded him with a grin of anticipation. Stephen felt himself captivated by her despite the fact that she wore her usual drab costum
e, including the hated wimple and veil that hid her glorious hair and much of her lovely face from his view. She replied, “Aye, Sir Knight, I am ready. And have been this long time.”

  He could not help reacting to such enthusiasm with a smile of his own. “We will away then.” He strode to his horse and leapt into the saddle, even as he motioned them onward.

  Fellis could not help casting repeated glances in the knight’s direction where he rode beside her.

  Stephen was dressed in a fine cote of dark blue velvet and a black tunic with matching hose that hugged his long muscular legs most lovingly. She couldn’t help but see the way he held the reins so confidently in his long supple fingers. And she could not be found completely at fault when she was transfixed by the way the sun shone in his dark auburn hair, streaking it with fire.

  Nor could she answer for the way her heart fluttered at the sight of him.

  Quickly she reminded herself that she could. Such a reaction was completely uncalled-for and Fellis forced herself to look away.

  She made herself think about riding. Was she holding the reins properly as Stephen had shown her? Was she giving commands with the appropriate tone?

  The mare was the same gentle bay she had first ndden, and practice had given Fellis a certain amount of confidence in handling her. Admittedly she was still not overly so, even though she now knew that the animal must surely be quite ancient. She must have once been her mother’s mount, and Mary Grayson had not ridden in years.

  For a moment Fellis knew a feeling of guilt at thinking about her mother, but she swiftly quelled it. Fellis was aware that Lady Mary had approached her husband about stopping the proposed outing. She had heard them arguing from her mother’s chamber, but for the first time in her memory her father had not capitulated and done as his wife wished.

  More and more Fellis was coming to understand that things would not be the same as they had been in the past.

  At that moment she looked up and found Stephen watching her, his dark gaze thoughtful. His close scrutiny was strangely unsettling.