This night, however, her words had a different subject. She prayed for Rafe, who seemed so tangled up and unhappy with everything. She hoped he could at last reconcile with the friends who he obviously missed, though he pretended not to. Alric insisted more than once that he had forgiven Rafe. But Rafe had yet to forgive himself. Angelet wished she could help—her fingers threaded together as she tried to think of any way to do it. But she was a near stranger, and she barely knew these people or the events that had occurred years ago. What could she possibly do to help? She wasn’t sure if her help would even be wanted.
And now he was talking with Rainald de Vere himself. Was he learning something that would make his life even more difficult?
“Just…take away a little of his pain,” she whispered. “Give it to me, if someone must bear it. I don’t mind.” Whether Mary would hear her words, Angelet didn’t know. Father Mark once warned her of the futility in demanding a response from prayer. Silence was an answer in itself.
As she knelt there, her head bowed, she sensed someone else enter the church behind her. She turned, and saw Rafe standing just inside the doorway, dressed in dark clothing, as always. And he was still so arrestingly handsome. She should stop being dazzled by this point, but she realized that would never happen. She delighted in looking at him, for looking at something beautiful ought to delight.
And he was smiling, making him even more attractive. She rose to her feet as he closed the distance between them.
“Angelet, I have to tell someone,” he said, his voice holding a barely restrained excitement. He slid his arms around her waist and his body met hers, like a shield against the world.
“Rafe,” she whispered. Having him so close, after so long apart, affected her more than she could have guessed.
He looked her over, his expression growing tentative. “Can I…can I tell you? You might not care to hear anything I have to say, considering what I kept from you—”
“No! I want to hear. Please. You’ve had good news. It’s in your face. Tell me.”
Rafe looked a little stunned, but he smiled again. “May I introduce myself?”
“What?”
“Angelet, I have a name.” He took a breath, clearly bursting with joy. “I’m Raphael Corviser. My father was Sir Michael Corviser, and my mother was Lady Clare of Beaumont. And they were married.”
She put her hands on his chest, and felt the beat of his heart underneath all the layers. She repeated, “Sir Raphael Corviser. The name fits you well.”
Rafe rambled out the whole story to her, probably just as de Vere told it to him.
At the end, she was smiling just as widely as he was. “Oh. Oh, Rafe. I’m so happy for you, to have finally learned your past.”
“I would have learned it earlier, if I hadn’t run.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Rafe. You did what made sense at the time. Your friends have forgiven you, and you have your life back. What more could you want?”
“You.” He kissed her.
Angelet’s lips parted as she responded to him. She’d been aching for this, to taste him again, ever since he’d touched her last.
“You missed this, too,” he said, pleased.
“Yes.” Her hands were all over him then, as if she’d forgotten what he felt like. She hadn’t forgotten at all, but she didn't mind relearning the shape of his body.
He bent to kiss her neck, and she stretched to allow him the best access.
“I’ve gone far too long without you,” he murmured. “I need you, sweetheart.”
“We can’t.”
He kissed her again, drawing out a gasp and the truth that she was just as aroused as he was. “We can. Come with me.”
“Now? Where?”
His lips were at her ear and his laugh sounded wicked. “Here.”
“This is a church!” she gasped.
“I’m aware of that.”
“Rafe, you can’t even joke about that.” And yet she was so tempted to say yes.
“I’m not joking. I want you. We have the place all to ourselves. Why shouldn’t we enjoy the privacy?”
“It is not private. Anyone could walk in.”
“They won’t.”
“The priest will return…”
“We have half the night till the next office. And I happen to know that the priest here is a sound sleeper.”
“Rafe—” Angelet’s next protest was cut short when he slid his hands over her breasts. He knew her too well, and knew exactly what she liked.
“Sin with me, love,” he begged.
Angelet’s eyes slid closed. “I want to. But I’m not strong enough. I’m still healing…”
“I’ll be careful,” he promised. “Trust me this time. No orders, no games. Just let me be with you.”
“Yes,” she breathed, still clinging to him. “But Rafe…”
“No one will see anything,” he said. He kissed her again. “Come with me.”
He took her hand and led her to the side of the church, where the design of the apse created the alcove for the lady chapel, not much more than a little room with an altar specifically set up for the veneration of Mary. Behind the stone altar there was a shadowed space, just large enough for two people to lay together.
She was flushed and distracted, but she still realized just how…knowledgeable he was about this hidden place. “You’ve taken other women back here, haven’t you?”
Rafe looked wounded. “Never.”
“Truly?”
“I swear.” He gave her a quick grin. “But I have thought about it. Plenty. They forced me to attend mass, but mass is boring. And I was young and easily distracted by pretty girls in the next row.”
“Now that sounds like truth.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “You’re so beautiful,” he said suddenly.
“So are you.” Her voice was raw. “Rafe…I…” Angelet’s stomach was in knots. Rafe’s touch destroyed her calm, made her think only of him and how much she wanted to be with him.
“Are you still nervous about being found out? No one will bother us here.” Rafe took her in his arms. “Do you mind the dark?”
“No.”
“I do,” he said, his voice low and provocative. “I wish it was full daylight and I could see you.” He found her mouth and kissed her, making her knees weak by the time he had her lower lip in his teeth.
She reached for him, pulling him to her and twining her fingers in his hair. “I dreamed about you,” she confessed. “I woke up sweating, so certain you were with me in bed.”
“Believe me, I had the same dream, love,” Rafe said. “I’d wake up, reach for you and feel nothing there. Tonight will be different.”
He used their cloaks to arrange a makeshift bed, then he pulled off his shirt and bundled it into a pillow, apologizing for the crudity of the materials.
“I don’t mind,” she told him. “As long as we’re together.”
“You’re the perfect lover, Angelet. Discreet yet daring. And very accommodating.” He started to loosen the lacing at the sides of her over-gown.
She smiled, but his words needled at her, though she knew he meant nothing cruel. She had been a perfect lover for Rafe. Discreet enough to hide their relationship. Daring enough to accept his proposition. And accommodating of his every suggestion. And safe, since she’d never bear him a bastard child, something Rafe feared, living so long as a bastard himself.
But now he had a name. And a legacy. He’d want to build on that legacy, reclaim his family line. That meant marriage…to a woman who could bear his children.
Angelet blinked back tears. The very thing that gave Rafe hope was the thing that meant she’d lose him.
She gasped, and Rafe took it for physical pain. He paused just as he was about to remove her gown.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No. It’s nothing,” she said, putting the thought aside.
“You need to lie down, love,” he told her.
Rafe took his time, evidently being quite serious about treating her with care. He first looked over her wound. By this time, she didn’t even need it covered with a bandage. The tissue was growing back in a way that promised a scar, and there was bruising that discolored her skin.
Anger flitted over his face when he saw it all.
“It’s healing,” she told him. “It looks worse than it is.”
“You shouldn’t have got hurt at all,” he said. “I wish I could have…” he trailed off. “Angelet, you’ll always be beautiful. You know that.”
“You’ve always made me feel beautiful,” she confessed, feeling unexpectedly shy.
“I will again,” he promised, looking more like himself. “But don’t worry. I’ll treat you carefully. I can do that, you know. Being a civilized man and not a mere bastard soldier.”
She reached out to pull him closer. “Enough chatter. You brought me here to sin with me.”
And Rafe knew all about sin. He knew just how to touch her and when to wait, and always he treated her like glass about to shatter. He ran his hands over every part of her body, but kept his touch light. When he kissed her, his mouth was gentle, not the greedy, demanding kisses from their earlier encounters. Angelet reveled in his attention, her arousal building bit by bit.
At first, she tried to listen with half an ear for footsteps beyond, or any hint that someone else was in the church. But soon enough she was so utterly seduced by what Rafe was doing to her that she forgot what to listen for, and even forgot why she should care.
All that mattered was that she was with him, the man who made her feel as if she was special all on her own. She watched him in the near darkness, and fell in love with him again, even though she knew it was foolish of her. But he was so gorgeous on the surface and so intriguing underneath. And how could she not love someone who made her feel so lovely?
He took his time, alert to her breathing and any hint that she might be past pleasure and into pain, even though he did nothing more than touch her with his hands and mouth. She was certain he’d grow impatient, and give in to his own obvious desire. But he never did. Instead he devoted himself solely to pleasing her, each stroke and touch building on the last until she forgot everything but him.
When she came undone, it started so gently that it took her a moment to realize it was happening, and then she was barely more than one long sigh as she clung to him, enjoying his warmth as she felt the sense of completion ripple through her.
After a moment, he moved above her at last, ready to enter her. There was a pause, and she understood he was waiting for her permission, still not quite sure that she was healed enough to tolerate actual coupling.
She gave that permission with a few whispered words, and he sighed in relief as he slid into her. Still, he kept his word to treat her gently, and he showed incredible restraint as he took his own pleasure from her body, and all she wanted was to make him happy with her, to have a little time when they could be content with each other and need nothing else.
He let out a low moan and then kissed her to muffle any further sound when he finished inside her. Angelet wrapped her arms around him, keeping him as close as she could.
“Oh, I missed you,” he said finally, his voice no louder than breath.
He withdrew, shifted to lie down on his back, and then pulled her to him.
She sidled up till she could tuck her head under his chin. He held her tightly, one strong arm around her shoulders, cradling her to him. She sighed. She never felt more safe and happy than when he held her like this.
Neither of them spoke for several moments. Rafe kept running one hand over her back and her side, then slid his fingers to hover over her chest. “You’re all right?” he asked, his voice a little shaky. He was scared he’d hurt her after all, despite all the care he’d taken.
“I’m marvelous,” she assured him.
“Good.” His arm tightened around her. “There are only so many hours until dawn, and I don’t know how long it will be until the next time.”
Angelet felt cold intrude on her lassitude. There could never be a next time, and the sooner Rafe understood how their lives no longer had any intersection, the less painful it would be. She reached up and pushed his black hair away from his face. “Rafe, we can’t keep meeting like this.”
“We can after I find sufficient bedding.” He smiled and then kissed her nose.
“I meant…we can’t continue this dalliance.”
“You’re afraid of being caught?”
“Well, that and…it’s not right. Not here, among these people. They’re your friends and they’ve taken me in. I can’t abuse their protection by sneaking off like this.” She gestured to the dark surroundings. “And if we should be discovered, then what? What’s the outcome for you or me? I’ll wager you hate to have your hand forced. No matter what happens, you’ll resent any choice that isn’t your own.”
He looked at her, his brow slightly furrowed. “What’s your alternative then?”
“That should be obvious! We need to behave. Not continue this…”
“Dalliance.”
“Yes.”
“However,” he added, “Since we’re already here…” He leaned forward to capture her mouth with his, and she immediately felt the heat spiral through her.
“Oh,” she sighed.
“That’s what I thought,” Rafe murmured. She could hear the smile in his voice, the satisfaction he got from knowing how much she needed him.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please what?”
“Please don’t waste a moment.”
He wasted nothing.
Chapter 29
Angelet had slipped back into her bedchamber in the manor house before dawn, and Rafe had gone to his own bed after seeing she was safe. Her absence had been noticed the previous night, but when she said she’d gone to the church to pray for a while and then had fallen asleep—which was not precisely a lie—the answer was accepted instantly, not only by the various servants who tended the house, but by Lady Cecily as well.
“You must be careful,” Cecily reprimanded her. “Even praiseworthy tasks such as prayer can be overdone. And you are still weak. I hope you did not suffer from cold, or exert yourself too much.”
“I assure you that was not the case,” Angelet replied, her eyes on the floor. Not at all.
“And today? What do you have in mind?”
“I have some items to work on,” she said, “and with the day being so warm, I thought I would embroider in the gardens.”
“Very good. I’ll send one of the maids out to check on you around the midday meal.”
The day was indeed finer than any before it that spring. The air was marvelously soft, the breezes gentle and the sun warm. Puffs of clouds raced in the sky above.
Below, a pack of boys raced around at about the same speed as the clouds, dashing more erratically, and shouting the whole time. Angelet spied the bright orange head of Goswin among them, and was glad he could enjoy some simple pleasures. After a time, the whole rowdy pack ran through the wide open gate to play in the fields and woods outside. Spring days seemed to be specially made for children.
Angelet settled down beneath a spreading apple tree to work. She wanted to complete the embroidery she’d started on the gown for Cecily’s coming infant. It was an inadequate repayment, but she had to start somewhere.
She lost track of time, but when a shadow eclipsed her work, she looked up.
The man towering over her was a stranger, but since he was dressed in the same manner as all the men-at-arms she’d seen at Cleobury, he must have been one of them.
“My lady,” he said. His tone was in marked contrast to his size—diffident and very sof
t. “I’m sorry to tell you that your boy Goswin is hurt. He wants to see you.”
Angelet’s sewing dropped into her lap, and her breath caught in fear. “Hurt? How?”
“The boys were climbing trees, and he fell.”
“Oh, no! Where is he?”
“Still there. The boys feared to move him. Will you come? He asked for you specifically.”
As she started to scramble to her feet, she said, “Yes, of course, but shouldn’t we also bring Lady Cecily? She’s the healer.”
He offered a giant hand to help her up. “Someone’s already gone to find her, my lady. Please, we ought to hurry.”
“How far?”
“Not very. Just in the woods past the western fields.” He started to walk, assuming that she’d follow in his wake. She cast about briefly, confused about whether she ought to take anything, and if so what. She ended up bundling several things in a sewing basket, but she was far too distracted to know if she was bringing the right things. She didn’t even know how Goswin got hurt.
Angelet hurried to catch up to the big man. “What happened? Did he break a bone? Is he bleeding? It’s not his head, is it?” she asked fearfully.
“Not sure,” the man said. It was hard to hear him, since he spoke so quietly and also because he was facing the woods, not her. “He asked for you.”
That didn’t clarify much, but at least it meant Goswin was conscious. She kept up the pace set by the big man, though it meant that she was nearly breathless by the time they crossed the fields to the fringe of the woods.
“Wait. A moment,” she gasped, putting her hand against a tree trunk. “I need to rest.”
The man stopped abruptly, looking back at her, then at Cleobury. “Yes, a moment. But we can’t waste time, my lady.”
“No,” she agreed. “It’s just that I was hurt too, not long ago. I’m not supposed to…” She stopped talking, gasping again.
“Just breathe,” the man said, looking alarmed. “They didn’t say you were so weak.”
“Who said?”
He gave a shrug. “Everyone, my lady. People talk. No offense meant.”
Raven’s Rise Page 25