“What do you think of this place?” he asked, valuing her opinion.
“Secure and maintained from what I could see. The people seem content and grateful for Rath. Did you see the way they welcomed him upon our arrival?”
“Aye, they were attentive and respectful and relieved to see him safely home, as if his safety truly mattered to them.”
Hope agreed with a nod. “He does not appear a common thief. The short time I spent with him made me think that his background is anything but common. He is highly intelligent and his manners impeccable.”
“He is not who he seems to be.”
“True enough, but then who is he?”
“A question that needs answering,” Colin said and watched another yawn attack Hope. “You are tired.”
“The day has been long,” she said, and looked reluctant to follow with what was on her mind.
“Something troubles you?”
“I worry over Faith,” she admitted after a brief hesitation. “Why ever did Lord Eric allow her to join the search?”
Colin laughed. “You know Lady Faith well enough to answer that yourself. She simply refused to be left behind.”
“Do you think the Devil is mad at me? He has said not one word to me.”
Colin leaned his arms on the table. “Be grateful he has chosen silence. His wrath is something you do not wish to taste.”
“He pays the coins demanded without question.”
“For now,” Colin said. “His wife’s safety and yours are what is important at the moment. When that is seen to he will deal with the thief.”
“Rath does not seem at all intimidated by the Devil.”
Colin smiled. “A fool he is, but he will learn that soon enough.”
Hope yawned again, stretched her arms above her head and arched her back, attempting to ease her sore muscles.
Colin watched the way the worn tunic formed to her body and he could just about make out a small pair of breasts. She was petite and slim with strength of character that belied her physical form. She had responded to his touch eagerly and with a confidence not usually found in one so inexperienced. He looked forward to making love to her. He wanted her first time to be memorable and satisfying and he would do his best to see that she was pleasured.
Hope lowered her arms and looked to the single bed.
“We will share it,” he said emphatically.
It would do no good to argue and she was much too tired to debate the issue. Tomorrow she could disagree. Tonight she would sleep in the bed with him, fully clothed of course.
She walked over to the bed, sat down and slipped her boots off her feet. She made her way beneath the warm wool blanket and rolled to the far side of the bed, the edge of which was braced against the wall, and immediately fell into a much needed slumber.
“A stubborn lass you are,” Colin said, speaking to himself, then blew out the candles on the table before joining Hope in bed. He refrained from slipping completely naked beneath the covers and instead left only his chest bare. He kept to his side of the bed, his thoughts busy and sleep elusive. But the long tiring day quickly caught up with him and he slipped into a deep slumber.
Soft whimpers pulled him from his heavy sleep and it took him a moment to remember his whereabouts. It was not long before he realized that the soft cries came from the huddled pint-sized body next to him. She had rolled toward him and had pressed herself firmly against his back as if the closer she could get to him the more protected she would feel.
Colin turned without hesitation and wrapped her into the comfort of his strong arms. She went willingly, her cries subsiding as his arms closed solidly around her.
He wondered over her troublesome dreams. What did she fear? What caused her cries and need for safety and solace? And why did she instinctively seek it from him?
Love.
She loved him and turned to him in need.
Need of what? he wondered. The love she sought? The safety she felt she needed?
And why did he feel compelled to provide her with anything she asked of him? Why had he always felt such an overwhelming need to protect the lad? What was it about Hope that made him lose all reason and agree to things he would never have thought possible?
Marriage.
Why had he agreed to their marriage so easily? Did he wish to marry her? Did he think she would make a good wife?
She stirred anxiously in his arms and he soothed her with whispered words and gentle rocking.
Was he being honest with himself? He wondered as she quieted in his embrace and once again settled against him. Was he not admitting that perhaps she was special, different from the other women he had bedded and loved in his own way?
He grew weary of his jumbled musings, wondering if he could ever solve this raging dilemma that plagued him. The simple matter of it all was that she would be his wife. She had no choice. It had been made for her and would be seen to accordingly.
Whether she favored it or not was not of consequence. She had a duty to perform and she would do as she was told. Why, then, did he feel it was not as easy as it sounded?
His present situation had provided a golden opportunity for him to become better acquainted with Hope the woman. The one who had decided on the adventure and who had created Harold in an image of herself, garnishing him with attributes she herself possessed but seldom had the chance to express.
If he could understand the two who were now one perhaps then he could understand the situation and know best how to proceed.
Love.
The word haunted him and simply refused to let go. He would accept her love for him, cherish it and guard it safely, for it was a precious gift she gave to him.
And in return he would take care of her, be a good husband and father and provide well for her.
Love.
He shut his eyes and gently shook his head. That was all that she asked of him, but could he give it? Could he love her?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hope thought she would go crazy confined to the small room with Colin. He seemed not at all perturbed with their forced circumstances and never lacked in finding a subject to discuss with her.
She, however, wished for the outdoors and the freedom to which she had grown accustomed. Rath had not made himself known since their arrival at his village two days ago. Food and such were generously supplied to them but contact with anyone was kept to the lone person who brought their meals. And that person changed daily.
It was near nightfall and it was raining out. The downpour pelted the cottage incessantly and wore on Hope’s already frayed nerves.
Colin appeared not at all distraught with the weather or their confinement. He sat at the table lazily enjoying the fine meal provided for them.
“You can do nothing about the situation,” he said, as if attempting reason.
She was not feeling reasonable. “And you accept this?”
He turned a charming smile on her, which irritated her all the more. “What else is there to do?”
She had no answer for him, which frustrated her all the more.
“See, your silence answers for you.”
He was right, of course. There was nothing they could do. Presently their only course of action was patience and he possessed more of that virtue than she did.
“Sit. Eat and talk with me.”
“We have talked,” she said, plopping down in the chair.
“I have talked, you have listened.”
She glared at him, prepared to disagree, when she suddenly realized the truth of his words and admitted her feelings. “There is naught for me to say. All this is my fault and my guilt overwhelms me. I pray that Lady Faith fares well and that the Devil does not turn his wrath on me, and I pray that the ordeal I have caused you can be rectified with haste and satisfaction.”
His smile lingered. “You remain adamant in your decision not to marry me.”
“I feel it unwise.” She tore a thin piece of meat from the coo
ked rabbit on the platter. “I will not make a dutiful wife.”
“What makes you think I wish a dutiful wife?”
“What do you wish of your wife?”
He paused, his answer near to spilling from his lips. That answer had rushed forth without forethought and it had startled him. He wished to love his wife.
“You do not know,” Hope said after he had remained silent for several minutes. “Therefore it would be unwise to wed without considering the qualities you wish in a wife.”
He leaned his elbows on the table and glared at her. “She would most certainly be patient with her tongue.”
“A quality I lack,” she said firmly as if striking a mark against herself.
“One that can be learned.”
“If one wished to learn it.”
He shook his head. “Were you always this stubborn?”
“Aye, and it is a fault that is not good in a wife,” she said, tallying another mark against herself and reaching for a piece of bread. She felt confident that their conversation was finally making sense and that perhaps, just perhaps, he would see reason.
He changed tactics, a skilled warrior’s trick that left an opponent unprepared. “I wish for a beautiful wife.”
It seemed to work—she looked at him with startled eyes—before her emotions took hold and her eyes misted with regret. “Another quality I sadly lack.”
He regarded her strangely and then realized she believed her words. She did not think of herself as beautiful. His heart suddenly ached for her. He, however, chose to remain combatant, for if he attempted to convince her with sweet, flowery words she most certainly would not believe him.
“Do not play foolish with me.”
There was a bite to her tone. “I cannot say I have never been foolish, but I play no foolishness now.”
He leaned forward and said it simply. “You are beautiful.”
“Now who is being foolish?” she snapped at him, though truthfully she wished badly to believe him. No one had ever told her she was beautiful and his words had touched her heart.
He defended himself. “Not I. I speak the truth.”
She shook her head. He was a charmer and she had to remember he charmed the ladies, each and every one of them. She would not be as foolish as they. “You attempt to charm, as is your way. I need no foolish charm worked on me.”
“You fear your beauty?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and deciding it was time to discover the deeper side of his soon-to-be wife.
A small voice nagged at her to accept the compliment instead of denying it, but her stubborn nature prevailed and she chose reason as her defense. “Everyone views beauty differently.”
His response surprised her. “Do you think me handsome?”
Her answer came easily. “Aye, everyone comments on your good looks.”
“Do you think me handsome because everyone else does?”
“I have eyes of my own to see with,” she said with a grin that told she thought his question foolish.
His attack had been a strategic one, his weapon the truth, and he moved in on his opponent. “As do I, and when I look at you I see a beautiful woman for I see her with my own eyes.”
Her grin faded and she tugged at her shoulder-length hair. “How could you ever think me beautiful?”
“It is what my eyes see. There is a beauty about you that I cannot deny. Your face simply captivates my senses. Ask me to describe this beauty and words most certainly will fail me, for your beauty forever changes.” He smiled as if his thoughts delighted him. “Your pale skin is smooth, clear and soft to the touch and your dark eyes can rob a man’s soul of his senses and at other times display the strength of twenty men.” A groaning sigh rumbled from him as his eyes settled on her mouth. “And those lips of yours beg for kisses time and again until a man goes crazy with the thought of satisfying them.” He laughed. “And then your foolishness rears its stubborn head and you become a nymph who needs taming, an all-too-tempting prospect. So I say again, you are beautiful.”
Her wish remained the same. She wanted to believe him. His words had touched her heart deeply so she asked, “When did you first think me beautiful?”
He stared at her over the rim of his wine goblet and sipped before answering. “As you remarked, everyone views beauty differently and keeping that in mind I must admit that I find courage beautiful. Harold possessed a beauty of courage I found remarkable for a lad so young and frail. So, as strange as it may sound, I saw beauty in you when we first met.”
“You cared for Harold?” she asked, wishing he could feel the same toward her. It may not be love but it was a strong and honest feeling.
“I thought of him as a good friend,” he said. “I still do.”
She seemed confused when she asked, “You think me a friend?”
“You are Harold and Harold and I became friends as we traveled together. That friendship did not die when I discovered Harold was Hope.” He held his hand up to prevent her from interrupting. “Upon discovering your deception I grew angry and part of that anger was because I thought I had lost a friend. It was not until I realized that your deception was not meant to hurt me or those you came to know, but meant to help you. I also understood that if Harold was my friend then Hope could certainly be my friend and the thought intrigued me.”
“Then instead of your wife, I can be your friend,” she said as if her words made perfect sense, though her heart wished differently. Her heart ached to love as only a wife and best friend could.
He stood and walked slowly over to her, bending down so that his face was level with hers. “Why not be both?”
“Impossible,” she said on a hushed whisper, her heart beating too wildly for her to catch a solid breath.
He moved his lips near hers. “Anything is possible, Hope. You only need to wish it so.”
Was it possible that he would kiss her? She wished it so.
He smiled as though reading her thoughts and moved his mouth to hers. His kiss was a gentle exploration of her lips that sent her senses hurtling completely out of control.
His hand moved to caress her neck while his lips ran in tender strokes over hers and she grew frantic for more, her own lips attempting to capture his fleeting ones.
He did not deny her her urgency and they were soon locked in a kiss that demanded much more than either ever imagined.
It was a kiss born of innocence, its intent to demonstrate possibilities and wishes. Instead it turned to magic—the magic of love.
Colin tore away from her in disbelief, standing in a flash and putting distance between them, if a few short feet could be called distance. He stood behind his chair, his hands firmly planted on the back of the chair for support. His legs trembled, his lips throbbed and his body grew hard with a relentless desire. And while he had always responded without a problem to ardent kisses, this kiss was different. It completely stole his senses and left him mindless.
Hope sat up, attempting to regain her own senses. She had not considered the consequences of her wish and there certainly could have been consequences if Colin had not ended their encounter.
She brought her fingers to her aching lips and briefly thought of how Colin had kissed her. There was no charm, only a need, deep relentless need. She felt it in him. It was like an ache he wished to ease, needed to ease, wanted badly to ease but somehow could not find a way. And if she was not careful she would allow him his way.
Her fingers drifted away from her mouth to rest in her lap. The room grew heavy with silence. There was no place for either of them to go and no words either wished to speak. The silence grew heavy along with the passion that filled the air.
Colin attempted to control his raging desires and the thought startled him. He had always kept a firm control of his emotions. It was a way he pleased the women, keeping a tight rein on his desires and catering to their pleasure, only fulfilling his own when he knew they had been satisfied.
How then did this simple kiss gain
control of his passion? He had almost lost control. His thought was to grab hold of Hope, strip her bare and make love to her with an urgency that bordered on primitive. Whatever was the matter with him?
Even now he was hot and hard with need for her. He was not thinking of gentle kisses and tender touches; his thoughts were more primitive in nature. He shook his head, stunned by his own wicked thoughts, which only served to torment him further.
She was to be his wife and it would cause no great harm if he made love to her before they exchanged vows. So why not just be done with it?
He could not answer his own question. He only knew that at the moment he was not himself and would not subject her to a primitive mating. Her first time with him would be loving and memorable.
He reached for the goblet of wine on the table and downed it, intending to drink himself into oblivion.
Hope decided to retreat silently to the bed and seek solace beneath the covers. She knew that their confined living quarters would only grow more confining after that kiss. Her lips still ached for him and her body desired him. She had never known that her breasts could ache with the want of a man’s touch or that she could grow so moist with desire.
She wanted Colin. She almost cried with the want of him and she could do nothing to ease the unrelenting ache that throbbed mercilessly throughout her. And she feared, greatly feared, that she would not be able to deny him if he chose to come to bed and touch her.
The thought sent a shiver of desire racing through her and she almost wished that he would come to bed and ease the passionate torment she suffered. A single tear slipped from her eye and she allowed it to fall. Though small, it released a tiny bit of the tension.
After what seemed like an eternity of silent frustration her damp eyes grew sleepy and drifted closed, and it was in that moment just before sleep claimed her that she realized Colin himself had lost control. His charm had been replaced with a soaring passion foreign to him and that was why he had so hastily ended their kiss.
Colin found no peace in sleep that night. At first he attempted to slumber in the stiff wooden chair at the table. When that proved too difficult and extremely uncomfortable, he sought the bed.
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