by Rue Allyn
“Juliana?”
She slipped sideways, and he caught her before she fell. ’Twas a wonder she had not fallen off during their escape. He struggled to lower them both to the ground. That the horse was too exhausted to object to the awkward process was a dubious blessing.
He carried Juliana into the cave, checked for sign of animal inhabitants, then searched her for more injuries. Try though he might, he could find nothing but scrapes and bruises. What had happened to her? Could he have done anything to prevent it? He knew he could not, and fury rippled through him once more that the monk and his men had dared threaten her well-being. He clenched his fists against the urge to strike out.
He forced gentleness into his hands and made her as comfortable as possible. Then he went back to the horse for his small store of water and a cloth to clean her cuts as best he could. Close inspection of her face showed him parched lips.
Robert soaked a clean corner of the cloth and squeezed a trickle of water between her lips, then passed the dampened rag over her mouth. Her tongue licked out, and a groan issued as she turned her head to follow the moisture.
“Juliana? Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Robert,” she croaked and lifted the hand of her uninjured arm to her face. “My head hurts. My whole body hurts, and my arm feels like it is on fire.”
He nearly laughed with relief at her small complaints when he had been so very worried about her. “The skin is scraped, but your arm is whole. Do you know where you are?”
She cast a sideways glance and quirked a brow at him. “Lying in the dirt, more than a day’s ride from Palermo?”
“Good. You have not lost your senses. Do you know what happened? How you scraped your face and tore the skin of your arm to shreds?”
She coughed.
He gave her more water.
“The cliff. When you jumped the bush and turned so quickly, I hit the cliff face with that side of my body and head.”
He nodded. “I should kill that monk and his men for forcing you to this.”
“One against so many?” She gave a dry laugh. “You are a mighty warrior, Robert, but even you could not take out more than one at a time.”
“True.” He had to laugh with her. She was right. “Still, I regret that I cannot wreak vengeance on them. ’Twould ease the pain of failing to save other women from death and destruction.”
Juliana yawned, stretched, and reclined on the ground, cushioning her cheek on her hand. “I am so tired, I thought you spoke of rescuing other women. That’s foolish. There are no other women here.”
He stared at her before turning away. “Sleep. I will keep watch from atop that rock.” He pointed at a man-sized boulder beside the cave. “If you need aught, come to me there. Do not call out. That could alert any searchers to our position.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded but was asleep before he left.
After Robert checked the horse, he tethered him loosely near some sparse grass within sight of both cave and rock. He climbed the rock, finding a sheltered perch from which he could survey the surrounding countryside.
While moonlight faded to dawn, he spent the time plotting what he would do should he ever meet Fra Giovanni again. When he could no longer fight sleep and the day was too hot for their pursuers to continue the search, Robert climbed down and joined Juliana in the cave.
Chapter 8
A warm, wool-clad rock cushioned Juliana’s head. The stone rose and fell in echo with the slow drum that beat beneath her ear. She opened one eye and looked out at the early dawn. Her head injury had rattled her brain. Everyone knew that rocks wore no wool. Nor did they act as cushions, move of their own volition, or emit quiet snores. And stones certainly did not beat drums.
She sat up, careful of her aching head and shoulder. She had been sleeping curled against Robert’s side. His chest cradled her head; his arm sheltered her back, and his heat warmed her body. When did he lie down? She recalled drifting off as he murmured some foolishness about protecting other women. Nonsense, Robert had no other women, had he? Unaccountably disturbed by the question, she shook away the idea. Not women but a rock—that’s what he had spoken of.
Well, she had certainly found a rock, only it was Robert. Was he hard like that all over? Nay, when he kissed her, his lips had been soft, though firm, like the flesh of ripe cherries, but the rest of him had seemed solid as the Northumbrian cliffs. She reached out a hand to touch the spot where her head had rested, curious to know how a man could be both soft and hard at the same time.
Her hand settled on the center of his chest, just below the place where his shirt fell open to reveal a few intriguing curls of dark hair. Her fingers twitched. Were those curls as silky as the ebon tresses atop his head?
Before she could do more than lift her palm, Robert’s sword-callused hand slammed down upon hers, anchoring her in place. “What do you do?”
Heat sizzled up her arm and flamed in her cheeks. What could she say? She had yielded to curiosity without a thought to the consequences. “I . . . I . . . ”
“Yes . . . ?” He raised a brow, and wild humor sparkled in his eyes.
“I but pushed against you to lift myself from the ground.”
“Lying is a sin, Juliana.”
“How dare you.” She tugged at her hand.
He refused to release her, twining his long fingers around her wrist instead and drawing her down to him. “I dare because you speak falsely.”
She lay at his side, her breasts pressed against his chest, her manacled hand atop his rib cage. Heat singed her cheeks. She should struggle, she thought, but did not. “You slept. You could not possibly know what I did.”
“I know you did not push. I would have felt the weight of it.” His other arm circled her back, his palm stroking her length.
“If you felt nothing, then I did nothing.” That tingling heat spread to her entire body. Her toes curled, and her thighs twitched.
He grinned. “I felt a great deal more than nothing, Juliana.” He loosed her wrist and slid his hand slowly up her arm, across her shoulder to tangle his fingers in the hair at her nape.
“How could you?”
“I am a very sensitive man.” His hand urged her head toward his.
She felt the brush of his lips on hers and released a small gasp. His tongue pierced the opening of her pursed mouth and swept its inner surface. The flavor of him filled her. Dear Lord in heaven, he was sweet; dark, hot, and sweet. A taste like none other in the world, and one she longed to savor.
She licked back at him. He groaned. Her world tilted and spun. Somehow the earth was at her back, and Robert lay over her. He slanted his head, deepening the kiss. She sucked on his lips, driving forward in pursuit of that elusive flavor.
His mouth left hers. Minute tremors trailed in the wake of his lips across her jaw and neck to her ear.
“Nay,” she protested, fisting her hands in his hair, attempting to draw him back, wanting his mouth on hers.
Then his teeth closed over her lobe, and she dissolved with a boneless shiver.
Hot air struck her breast, and tiny aches tugged at her nipples. She lifted her head to see Robert’s lips cover one hardened point. His tongue soothed the ache. Then he sucked, and the ache intensified. She dropped her head back with a groan.
“Please.”
Suddenly Robert stood above her. Astonishment riddled his features.
Bereft, she followed his appalled stare to her damp nipple. It glistened and shone in the sunlight. Shame invaded her, and she covered herself. He must think her wanton. Or perhaps her inexperience repelled him. How could she know? Why did he not say something? If he castigated her for lewd behavior, she could at least smile and tell him not to be so full of himself; he’d been just as lewd, if not more. But this silence devastated.
She dropped her gaze and righted her clothing, then made to push herself upright when she noticed his hand held out to her. She followed his arm upward, intending to look him in
the face as she thanked him for his courtesy, but the bulge in his breeches arrested her glance. She knew enough from avoiding the knights in her uncle’s castle to recognize an aroused male when she saw one. His body, at least, wanted her, even if Robert’s actions spoke otherwise.
She shifted her eyes to his face. “I am sorry, but—” she said in soft confusion.
He cut her off. “’Tis no need. We will not speak of it.”
“Thank you.” She took his hand and pulled herself upright. Not speak of what? The kiss, her behavior, her lack of experience, his part in all of those? What was she to make of a man whose body clearly announced his desires yet who consistently denied himself any fleshly pleasures?
• • •
Robert gave a grunt of acknowledgment, nodded, and strode away to his horse. Sweet Jesu, he had nearly ravished her. He kept his back to her, so she could not see how his hands trembled. She was an innocent, promised to another man, and he nearly stole her virtue. He hardly needed more evidence of the sinfulness that caused him daily anguish, but there it was.
Perhaps he could not escape the guilt and shame he carried because he deserved both. He was certainly guilty of abusing Juliana’s trust, to say nothing of Edward’s. Ah, her passionate murmurs and the sweet softness of her body. Yes, his shame was well-deserved.
Had Juliana not spoken, uttered that soft, rasping “please,” he might even now be locked deep inside her silken warmth. That he wanted to be there, joined with her in the most elemental manner, condemned him for a heedless villain. It must not happen again.
He cast a glance over his shoulder. She busied herself picking up the water flask and bundling it into her sack with the cloth he used earlier to clean her scrapes. He saddled the horse, thinking about the coming journey to England and being alone on the road with her for months. ’Twould be sheer torture. Saints! She was Edward’s cousin. If he could not gain control over his unruly passions, he was like to lose his head. A few moments in paradise might well be worth the loss. But what price would she pay? He was not willing to find out.
Perhaps they could find a caravan to travel with, or better yet, travel by ship. There was safety in numbers. “Are we ready to leave yet?” she spoke from beside him.
He restrained a startled leap, but his heart pounded. When had she gotten so close?
“Aye.” He took her bundle and placed it within a saddlebag. “Go stand on that rock, and I will lead the horse to you so you may mount.”
Juliana studied him for a long moment, then complied.
He knew ’twas poor courtesy on his part not to hand her up, but at the moment he dared not touch her. Look where the lightest stroke of her hand had led them earlier. With Juliana mounted, he set off, leading the horse to the east.
“Are you not going to ride?”
“Not now,” he growled. “’Twill be better if the horse does not have to carry both of us, especially if our pursuers find us and we must run again.”
“Then I should walk as well.”
“No!”
“But the horse . . . ”
“I said no, and that is the end of it.”
• • •
Juliana could see that Robert was troubled but could not guess what bothered him.
That his problem had to do with her was certain. No doubt he regretted the kisses they shared, yet he had seemed to enjoy touching her as much as she did him. Perhaps he feared Edward’s wrath for sharing intimacies with the king’s cousin. ’Twould be wise to fear Edward, but the king need never know that she and Robert kissed. Of a certainty, she never would speak of such wild pleasure. Edward would only know if Robert told, and she did not think her knight such a fool.
Which left her without any possible answer to the question of what disturbed Robert, hence she knew of no way to ease his distress.
They walked for half a day before coming to a small copse of trees surrounding the glimmer of sunlight on water. Robert held back in the rocks. “Stay here with the horse. I want to check for hidden dangers before we go down there.”
She nodded her agreement. They had seen water so infrequently that any oasis would lure travelers from all directions. Perhaps even their pursuers. Robert skulked off to her left—why did he not go straight to the trees? Finally it occurred to her that someone might be watching the copse for their approach. ’Twas what she would do, if she was searching for someone in this place.
She was hot and thirsty after the long ride and prayed that Robert would quickly find the water hole to be safe. Then she prayed for patience. She would forever regret any haste that led Basti’s men to recapture her.
Eventually, Robert returned. “All is secure. There are signs that a great many horses passed and drank here, but no indication anyone was left to watch. If we are quick, we can fill the flask and water skins before moving to a safer spot to rest.” He took up the destrier’s reins once more and set off.
“Good. I cannot wait to drink and rinse some of the dust from my face.”
There were no stones available among the trees, so Robert was forced to help her down. He removed his hands the moment her feet touched the ground. Did she repel him? Perhaps she was wrong that he had liked their touching. Perhaps she was losing her mind to obsess so much over such a little thing. Yet that kiss had not seemed little to her.
Therein lay the problem. If she had to choose at this moment between returning to the beguinage and more of Robert’s kisses, she very much thought she might choose the kisses. Was her dedication to the Beguine life so weak?
While Robert tended the horse, Juliana bent to the water and rinsed her face. The cool liquid trickled over her, bringing echoes of Robert’s lips. How could such miraculous caresses be wrong? Was not God the originator of all miracles? Was not the pleasure of touch a miracle? She had been overwhelmed by that pleasure.
She sat up and dried her face with a corner of her tunic. In Robert’s arms, she had thought only of seeking more, never of how that seeking might be perceived. Aye, she had yielded to temptation, but that did not make her evil, did it? Nor did she know for certain that Robert thought her evil. His actions did not indicate so, but his silence? How could she know what he thought if he did not speak? There was only one way to know.
Ask.
He brought the horse over and helped her mount. “Robert.”
His hands froze on her waist.
“Do you think me sinful?”
“What?” His fingers tightened, and she sucked in a gasp. He lifted her into the saddle.
“I believe you heard me.”
He released her, took up the reins, and started walking, his shoulders tight and his steps heavy, as if he would have each foot smash holes in the ground. “What kind of question is that?” he muttered after a while.
“The kind that says I value your opinion.”
He frowned. “My opinion is that your sin or lack of it is none of my business.”
While she pondered his reaction, the ground rose, and he began to climb. Stones and boulders littered the hillside.
“Do you blame me for tempting you to kiss me?” she asked.
Robert’s foot struck an embedded rock. He stumbled, yanking on the reins. The horse kicked out.
“Argh!” Her errant knight grasped his lower leg and tried to hold on to the horse at the same time. The destrier sidled away. The reins pulled taut. Robert wobbled on one foot. The steed threw his head to the side, jerking the reins free. Robert’s arms whirled crazily, and he toppled.
Surprised, Juliana watched as one of Edward Plantagenet’s most skilled knights crashed headfirst to the hard ground.
Her eyes widened as he rolled over, moaning. When he did not immediately get up, Juliana scrambled from the horse and ran to Robert’s side to place a comforting hand on his arm.
“How badly are you hurt?”
He shifted.
“Oh, Robert, your poor face.”
Blood trickled from his nose and a bruise blossomed over one eye. S
crapes decorated his cheek. She fished rags from her sack and ran for the water skin.
She dampened one scrap. “Here.” She handed him the compress. “Hold this over your eye.” She dampened another and made to staunch his bloody nose.
“Mmph.” He snatched the cloth from her. “Are you determined to kill me, woman?”
“Nay, I wish only to help.”
“Well, asking if I blame you for the kiss we shared is no help. So stop it.”
“How else am I to know what distresses you?”
“You could ask what distresses me.” The cloth he held to his nose muffled his speech.
“Would you tell me?”
“No!”
“See. That is why I asked specifically about our kiss.”
Robert peered at her with his uncovered eye. “You should ask no questions at all.”
“But . . . ”
“No. You trust too easily, milady. You allow strangers into your home at the risk of life and property. You barely hesitate to journey for a day or more with the first person to tell you a sorry tale. And had I not been available to accompany you, you no doubt would trust your person to the care of a man you scarcely know and a priest at that. Worse, you ask probing questions with every expectation of true answers. You are either the greatest fool alive or an utter innocent. Either way you need a keeper, until you learn more discretion.”
“Is that what you truly think?” Juliana sat back as if struck. His words hurt more than one of Uncle William’s blows. Since Robert had never lied to her, she must believe he meant what he said. His disapproval should not have mattered so much. One hand on his eye, the other on his nose, Robert struggled to his feet. “What I think is that Edward will be lucky if one of us does not kill the other before we get to England. Now, let us be on our way.” He took one step forward and sank to the ground with a groan.
“Robert! What’s wrong?”
“My ankle. The horse kicked it when I tripped on that cursed rock.”
“Let me see.” She made to remove his boot.
“Nay,” he snapped. “Leave it.” His tone gentled when she backed away. “If I take the boot off, the ankle may swell. I might not get the boot back on again.”