“Now,” she whispered, head tossing on the pillow, hands reaching for him.
“Aye.” He rose above her, his body tense with an urgency that mirrored her own desperation. A shuddering gasp escaped him as he slowly entered her. It was echoed by her own cry of pleasure as she lifted her hips to meet his.
The feel of his rigid heat filling her, completing her, shattered the last of Linnet’s restraint. Wrapping her legs around his lean waist, she gave herself over to the greedy desperation that splintered through her.
“Linnet,” Simon groaned, momentarily surprised by her wild abandon. Gallantly, he set himself to fulfill her needs, matching his sure, deep strokes to the powerful hunger he felt building inside her, inside him. How naturally they fit together, how perfectly matched they were, he thought. He gazed down at her flushed face and found her looking up at him. Her eyes, dark with passion, reflected back his own dazed features.
“I love you,” she cried, body tensed, poised on the brink of the high precipice.
Simon felt something stir in his heart, but before he could grasp hold of it, the storm broke. Her body tightened around his, demanding surrender. Gladly he followed her, groaning her name as he poured himself into her, body and soul.
“Hmm,” Linnet purred, cradled close against him as they drifted down from the heights.
“Aye.” He rolled them onto their sides. His hands stroked down her back, tender, gentle, soothing without words.
She was reminded of the way he had touched her last night, sometimes patient, sometimes with fiery haste but always with the respect due spun glass. Would he treat her so if he knew how she had betrayed him? Linnet shivered. Even if they managed to outwit Crispin, how could she live with her secrets?
“What is it?” Simon asked, eyes still hazy with passion.
“Nothing.” Everything. She wanted to weep.
He must have sensed it. His brows slammed together. “I knew that was not what you needed.”
“But it was.” She dredged up a smile. “This—you—are the only good thing that has happened in the past few days.”
He grunted, but his frown eased. “I think there is some wine hereabouts. It will restore you.”
Nothing short of a miracle could do that. She wanted to cling when he gently disengaged himself, but didn’t.
“We have little time and much to do.” He stood and padded across the room, supremely unconcerned with his nudity. Down on his haunches, he went to root through a pile of clothing, muscles cording and flexing beneath sun-kissed skin.
Dieu, he was magnificent. Linnet lifted herself up on one elbow, tucking the blanket over her breasts, and admired the view. It was thrilling and a little humbling to think that such a beautiful man desired her.
He looked up and caught her gaze. “What makes you smile?”
You do, she mused, taking in the sensual curve of the lips that had kissed her senseless. Even more remarkable was the intelligence glinting in his gray-green eyes. He was the man who had won her bruised heart in only a few short days. But his own heart was even more deeply scarred and more closely guarded.
He had not replied to her declaration of love. If the stark terror in his eyes was anything to go by, it would be a long time before he admitted he loved her. If ever.
“This room. It is surprisingly untidy for a man as precise and controlled as you, Simon Blackstone. It pleases me to see you are not perfect after all.”
“This chaos is not my doing,” he grumbled as he crossed to her. “My room has been searched.”
“By Hamel?”
“Likely.”
“Is anything missing?”
“I had little of value here.” He shook the fall of black hair from his face, sat on the bed and handed her a wineskin.
Linnet frowned. “Is there a cup?” When he shook his head she sighed, pulled the stopper from the wineskin and peered into the narrow opening.
“Wait!” Simon’s thumb flew over the end just in time to prevent the wine from gushing out. “You’ll spill it.”
“I’ve never drunk from a skin before.”
“Let me help.” He encircled her with one massive arm and held the skin up to her mouth. “Tip your head back and open.”
Linnet sprang her jaws as wide as a hungry trout’s.
Simon chuckled. “Close up some, or we’ll have this on you instead of in you.” When she complied, he put the nozzle to her lips and squirted a bit of liquid inside.
“Argh.” Linnet started, swallowed and choked on the flood of red wine. It was strong, exploding like fire m her belly.
Grinning, he tipped his head back, squirted some into his own mouth and drank a goodly quantity. Without spilling a drop.
“Pleased with yourself, are you not?” she grumbled.
“Aye.” Light kindled in his eyes. “And with you.”
Linnet felt a blush creep up into her cheeks.
“Are you ashamed of what we did?” he asked, low and tight.
“Nay,” she said quickly, truthfully. “I am new to this, and you are so…so beautiful.” Her gesture took in his body, magnificently naked in the sunlit chamber.
“You are the beautiful one.” He bent to kiss her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “I would like to keep you here, naked in my bed, till you no longer felt shy, but I fear we’ve much to do.” All business now, he restoppered the wineskin and set it aside, then sorted out their scattered clothing.
Loath as she was to discuss the ledger, she’d feel less vulnerable clothed. She was touched by the way he turned aside while she struggled into her shift and under-tunic, rounding only when she asked for help with the laces.
“You are keeping something from me,” Simon said without preamble as he tied the last lace.
Linnet jerked, barely resisting the urge to wrench away, to hide her face from his knowing gaze. “I think Hamel wanted my ledger because it shows that I gave Thurstan the monkshood.”
“What?” Simon’s eyes fairly bugged out.
Linnet flinched. “There is no need to shout at me.”
“No need!” he exclaimed, face red.
“I did not poison him, if that’s what you are thinking,” she said in a small voice.
“Of course I do not think that. Damn…” He shoved both hands into his hair, the struggle for calm twisting his mouth into a thin line. “But how could you not have told me this?”
“I…” Linnet wrapped her arms about her shivering body.
“Easy. Come sit.” He led her to the only chair and leaned his hip on the corner of the nearby table. “I did not mean to frighten you, but—” he exhaled sharply “—how could you have kept something this dangerous from me?”
“I was afraid,” she whispered, then seeing his brows raise in alarm, added, “Not that I’d be accused, but that some would think Thurstan had poisoned himself.”
“Poison himself?” Simon echoed incredulously.
Linnet nodded and explained how upset Thurstan had been when news came that Simon and the others were dead. “He seemed to lose all interest in life. It was only a few days ago that it occurred to me Thurstan was possibly being poisoned. I was reading some papers on healing and came across greatgrandfather’s notes on a poisoning case he had been called in to solve. The symptoms sounded so similar to Thurstan’s that I feared he was not just ill. ‘Twas then I recalled the monkshood Thurstan had bought from me and became concerned he was killing himself. That is why I went there that fateful night—to confront him and beg him to give up the mad notion.”
“What did he say to that?”
“I never got the chance to speak about that. He was so overset, he would not answer my questions.”
“Why was he upset?”
“Now I know it was because you had returned.” She cast her mind back, trying to recall details lost in the subsequent shocks of Simon’s reappearance and Thurstan’s death. “But he was anxious about something, too. He spoke about everything having changed. There was something he ha
d to see to. Something he had to change.” Her eyes widened. “Could it have been the charter?” She seized his arm, voice breathless. “Suppose he had left you some property, then you died, so he deeded it to someone else.”
“To Blackstone Abbey along with the rest of his estate?”
Linnet bristled. “Abbess Catherine would not harm him.”
“You know her well?”
“Of course, I lived there when—” Linnet broke off, remembering why she’d gone to stay at Blackstone.
“What of Odeline? Would he have bequeathed coin or manor house to her?”
“It is possible. Thurstan had little respect for her and her son Jevan, but he did pity them.”
Simon nodded slowly, grinding his teeth. “If we could find the charter, we might prove they had reason to wish him dead.” Frustration built inside him, roiling with the anger and the fear. Fear that for all his strength, training and prowess in battle, he would not be able to save Linnet from being framed for Thurstan’s murder.
“Let us leave Durleigh,” he said suddenly, urgently.
“Leave?” Hope flickered in her eyes, then dulled. “Even were this not my home, I could not run away.”
A pox on honor, he thought. “We’d best get ready then.” Mentally he girded himself for the most important struggle of his life. “I promise, I will not let them harm you.”
She smiled at him as though she believed he could do that.
He only wished he knew how.
“I have Linnet’s shop record,” Hamel whispered, coming up beside Odeline.
“Excellent.” Odeline checked her step, then slowed until they were at the end of the line of mourners snaking toward the Guildhall. “And the charter?” she murmured.
“Nay, there was not time.”
Odeline gritted her teeth. “Why?”
Hamel raked his greasy hair back. “Simon returned. Hekilled Ellis and the man you had hired.”
“So they did not search,” she grumbled.
“Jesu, Ranulf was lucky to come away with the ledger.”
Idiot! Odeline’s fingers curled until the nails bit into her palms. Striking out at Hamel would accomplish nothing and paint her as a violent woman. “It is something, I suppose.”
Hamel exhaled sharply. “I still do not believe Linnet would kill the bishop.”
Nor did she, but it was imperative that a culprit be found.
“The archdeacon is certain she did,” Odeline said absently. “Simon must have the charter on his person.” “Well, the only way I’d get it is if he’s dead.”
“Precisely.” Odeline glanced at him through her lashes.
“He is a hard man to kill,” Hamel grumbled. “And I cannot just walk up to him and plunge a blade into his heart.”
“Nay; but he is fond of Linnet. When she is found guilty of murder, he will most certainly try to protect her.” Odeline smiled faintly. “He is a warrior, after all, a man of violence. If you can goad him into a fight, it will give you an excuse to eliminate him.”
“Aye.” Hamel grinned, obviously pleased with the notion. “I’d best him in a battle.”
“I am sure you would,” Odeline soothed. He outweighed Simon by several stone, and she did not doubt that a man such as Hamel knew tricks that a Crusader knight might quail from using. Still an incentive would not hurt. “Get the charter for me, Hamel, and I will wed you.”
“Odeline.” Hamel’s muddy brown eyes glittered. For an instant she feared he might kiss her, here on the busy street.
“Go on ahead, Hamel, I must speak with Jevan.” Another difficult male to be coerced into line. But her son would not be so easily fobbed off. It was he who had insisted that Rob help Hamel’s men search for the charter. Now Rob was dead, and they were no closer to finding the charter. Jevan would be furious. Of late, he had been impossible to reason with, his moods swinging sharply between petulance and violence. There were times when he’d get that odd look in his eyes and she’d wonder…
Nay! She jerked her mind back before it could even start down that path. Jevan was still her special, loving boy. He was frustrated, that was all. Thurstan could have given the estate to Jevan outright…no strings attached. It was Thurstan’s fault Jevan was behaving so oddly.
She clung to that as she walked to the Guildhall and Thurstan’s wake.
Chapter Seventeen
“Nelda knew you and I had been together the night of the Crusaders’ fete?” Linnet whispered. Simon had finished telling her all he’d learned from the herb woman and they were preparing to leave for the cathedral.
“She claimed to be privy to that and a great many other secrets,” Simon replied as he belted on his sword.
Linnet stared at him, aghast. What else did Nelda know? Linnet thought back to the terrible day when she had confessed to her mother that she was pregnant. Her mama had been saddened but not surprised, for she claimed Linnet had “the look” about her. Had Nelda noticed it, too? She was, after all, a skilled midwife, trained to see such signs as glowing skin and thickening waistlines. What if she said something?
“Come, we’d best be leaving.”
Linnet forced herself to take the hand Simon held out. “Do you think Nelda will be at the canon court?”
“I do not see why. Crispin has little use for her.”
“But if she is and if she says she saw us, shall we lie about being together that night?”
“Certainly not,” he said gruffly. “Lies always make matters worse. Do not forget that I rescued you from Hamel. If he remembers it, we will be exposed as liars. To some, it might seem a short step from that lie to one about Thurstan’s murder.”
“I suppose.” Heart in turmoil, Linnet followed him down the stairs. This morn, before leaving for the funeral, she had considered destroying Thurstan’s journal lest her secret, and countless others, fell into the wrong hands. But Thurstan had given her the book and asked her—nay, begged her—to keep it safe. Why had he entrusted her with such a burden?
The sound of the door opening below stopped Simon midway down the stairs. “Shh,” he cautioned.
“I wish someone other than Crispin had conducted the funeral mass. Bishop Thurstan deserved a more fitting sendoff than a sermon on sin,” grumbled a woman.
“Aye. The archdeacon grows odder by the day.”
“It is Elinore and Warin,” Linnet whispered, Simon nodded. “Let us go down, then. I must speak with Warin ere we go up to the cathedral.” They traced the pair into the tavern’s main room.
“Linnet…Simon, what do you here?” Warin asked, turning with a mug of ale in his hand. “I thought you’d be at the cathedral.”
Linnet looked down and fought the urge to blush.
“I had something I needed to fetch,” Simon replied. “Only I found that my room had been ransacked.”
“‘Twas not us, I assure you.” Warin scowled. “And I gave no one leave to search, though Bardolf did come sniffing around.”
“I’ll wager it was Tilly,” Elinore said. “Is aught gone?”
Simon shook his head. “Everything of value is with me.” He put a hand on Linnet’s waist.
Elinore smiled. “So I see. And right glad I am of it, Sir Simon. Would you like a cup of ale?”
“Just a small one.” Simon drew Linnet with him to the oak-planked serving bar and accepted a crockery mug. “Warin, do you recall the two knights who arrived the same day I did?”
“Indeed. The darker one seemed agitated and stayed only a moment before going off on an errand.”
“When I returned that same evening I found a note from Sir Guy saying he’d been called away. One of your maids said the other knight had left with a woman. Do you know who that was?”
Warin scratched his chin. “Can’t say I do. He sat in the corner, had a cup or two of my finest ale. Caused no trouble—”
“No trouble,” Elinore scoffed. “Him with his handsome face and wicked eyes. He had my maids so aflutter I barely got a moment’s work out of them while
he was here.”
“Do you know where he might have gone?” Simon pressed.
“Has there been trouble?” Warin asked.
“I’m just concerned that I’ve had no word from him. On the other hand…” Simon grinned. “Nicholas has been known to forget time when he’s with a lovely lady.”
Elinore smiled suddenly and turned to Warin. “Was the widow Marietta not here that very same day?”
“Could have been. I try to steer clear when she’s about.”
“She’s got her eye on my Warin,” Elinore teased.
“And every other man for miles about.”
“That’s true enough. Linnet. You’ll remember the scandal she caused last winter when she took up with Master Baker’s youngest son, and him only ten and seven.”
Linnet chuckled. “Indeed. The baker gathered his friends and went out to bodily remove his son from her clutches.”
“They said the top of her bed canopy was made of polished metal.” Elinore waggled her brows. “Like a mirror, ye see.”
Warin snorted, but his eyes danced with fascination.
“She sounds like she’s cut from the same cloth as Nicholas. He swore he had reformed, but I can see he has not,” Simon grumbled. “Does the lady live far from Durleigh?”
“Two hours’ ride or so,” Warin replied. “Would you like me to have someone carry a message to him?”
“Aye. Tell him that I have need of him.”
Warin stiffened. “Do you expect trouble?”
“‘Tis a foolish man who does not prepare just in case.”
“You can count on my support,” Warin said at once.
“My thanks.” Simon’s hand tightened on Linnet’s waist. “I think I have the means to prove Linnet’s innocence, but it never hurts to plan for the worst.”
Her arrest. Linnet fought a shiver of foreboding.
“We’ve been summoned to the canon court,” Warin said.
Simon started. “By whom.”
“Hamel Roxby.”
“Why is he doing this?” Linnet exclaimed.
The Champion (Knights of the Black Rose Series : Harlequin Historicals, No 491) Page 23