by Denise Lynn
‘Advantage? Until now he’d never done anything so foolish.’
He didn’t believe that for a second, but it did make him wonder why she still thought to defend him.
‘So, you’ve no idea if the touch of his lips against your neck makes you incapable of thought? Nor are you certain if a stroke of his hand chases fire or ice along your flesh?’
She said nothing, but he saw her twist and toy with the edge of the blanket between her trembling fingers. Gregor knew it was his own arrogance that made him think her reaction had nothing to do with Charles, but with him.
‘What about the warmth of his arms around you? Do you know if that makes you feel safe? Or perhaps the hardness of his chest—Is it sturdy enough for you to rest against and feel secure?’
Yet again she remained silent.
‘Perhaps, if he had taken advantage, you would know if the warm slide of his tongue across yours in a kiss makes you long for something more.
‘Gregor, stop.’
He sighed at her breathless request with gratitude because he was running out of questions with which to torment her further.
‘Yes, you are right, he did take advantage—but only as far as I would permit.’ She released the edge of the blanket and turned towards him to add, ‘But never did his touch or kiss make me feel any of those things.’
She moved closer, her eyes lowered and softly whispered, ‘Only one man makes me wonder at those things.’
Gregor’s heart hammered inside his chest. An unfamiliar, yet welcome, tremor rippled down his spine. Simon’s warning rang loudly in his mind. He realised the man might have been correct in this matter—he was in great danger of being caught in a web of his own making.
She knew it, too. Otherwise she’d not have turned his tormenting back on him so neatly.
At this moment, he didn’t care.
Beatrice moved alongside him and rested her cheek against his shoulder. ‘Gregor, I thank you for not taking his worthless life.’
He placed an arm around her, holding her close. ‘I did it for your sake, not his.’ Now seemed a good time for him to say, ‘You know that you had no need to be afraid, don’t you?’
‘I wasn’t afraid.’
He rested his cheek against the top of her head. ‘I could smell your fear, Beatrice. You were most definitely afraid.’
‘Isn’t that what you wanted? Why else would you have looked at me in such a terrifying manner?’
‘Terrifying?’
‘Yes. Like a wolf about to tear apart its prey.’
He laughed at her description. ‘That’s a bit fanciful.’
‘No, it’s not. You take on an inhuman appearance, devoid of any emotion. It was as if I stared death in the face.’
‘I had my knife at a man’s throat. Emotion has no place in such an act. If I allowed myself to feel regret or concern for every enemy I faced in battle or even one on one, I would go mad with guilt and grief.’
‘But how do you do that? I watched you change. I saw the man fade away as the animal took his place.’
‘It is the way it has to be. I can’t afford to let any emotion, not even anger, cloud my judgement or my movements when pitted against another—not if I want to live.’
‘No wonder they call you the Wolf.’
The Wolf. King David’s Wolf. Gregor gritted his teeth. He was so tired of that title and more than willing to do whatever was necessary to end this forced service to his King.
He relaxed his jaw and turned his head to whisper in her ear, ‘Can I tell you a secret?’
She nodded.
‘Wolves run in packs.’
Beatrice looked at him. ‘That is your great secret? Everyone knows that. Even now you are travelling with your pack.’
‘My guards?’ He wanted to laugh at the mere idea. ‘They are not my pack.’
‘Then who are?’
‘My brothers.’
She leaned far enough away to stare at him. ‘Are you telling me that King David’s Wolf is more than one man?’
Gregor nodded. ‘Yes. It is four.’
She frowned, then nodded. ‘Well, that makes more sense than believing you are invested with some magical powers that permit you to travel from country to country seemingly overnight. How did your family end up in this position? Was it by choice?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, yes, every shipbuilder I know longs to be taken away from his work at a moment’s notice.’
‘My father would be frothing at the mouth.’ She settled back against his side.
‘I completely understand. The late Lord of Roul committed treason against the King. To save his life, my brothers and I had to place our lives in David’s hands.’
‘Why would he use you so harshly?’
Apparently her parents didn’t involve her in family, or political, matters of the day. ‘The King needs someone to do his...’ He paused, looking for a way to explain without delving into any gruesome details. ‘His less-than-kingly tasks. And it provides him the opportunity to blame others if something goes wrong.’
‘So, essentially, it permits him to be underhanded with less chance of being caught.’
Perhaps she wasn’t as shielded from politics as he’d thought. ‘Yes.’
‘And what happens if something does go wrong?’
‘My older brother Elrik has a title, lands and property. I have the ships and warehouses. The younger two, Edan and Rory, have their lives. All of which David would take without batting an eye. So, we don’t permit anything to go wrong. If, on the odd occasion something appears as if it might not run the desired course, we ensure it is taken care of before word reaches the King’s ears.’
Beatrice shook her head. ‘I thought King Henry’s brother had been raised so piously that he’d not consider risking his soul for such earthly matters.’
‘He was and he doesn’t risk his soul. That burden is ours alone.’
‘How can you or your brothers be blamed for something you’ve been forced into doing?’
‘We could have said no.’
‘And watched your father die?’
He shrugged. There were still times when he resented the position in which his father had placed him and his brothers. ‘He was the one who’d foolishly decided to go against the King.’
‘Gregor, don’t talk like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘As if you’d not have cared if your father had been put to death for his crime.’
Gregor knew it was far past time to pull in the reins on this conversation. It was now going in a direction that would not bode well for either of them. ‘I never said I wouldn’t have cared. Why else would I have accepted the burden of his treason?’
She idly stroked his arm. ‘It is sad that you and your brothers find yourselves tasked with such difficult burdens.’
‘We survive. Save your pity for those who need it.’
She withdrew her touch, letting a cold breeze rush in to replace the warmth.
He grasped her hand and brought it back to rest on his forearm. ‘I meant not to sound so short tempered.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘There is nothing you can’t ask me. Just be forewarned that you may not always like the answer.’
‘Even if it’s...personal?’
‘Yes. There is little I wouldn’t share with you.’
‘Are you married?’
Gregor blinked. Of all the things she might ask him, that wasn’t one he’d expected. She hadn’t come up with it on her own, so which of his men needed a heavy reprimand?
She looked up at him. ‘Are you?’
‘I was.’
‘Was?’
Gregor swallowed his curse at himself. He’d been th
e one who’d told her she could ask him anything. ‘She...died.’
‘Died?’
‘Are you telling me that you haven’t heard the rumours of how I murdered my wife?’
The stroking of her fingers against his forearm stopped for a fraction of a breath and he thought she’d pull away. Instead, she slid her hand down to lace her fingers through his. ‘There are many things I’ve heard about David’s Wolf, but that is not one of them. I don’t believe you capable of such a cowardly act.’
Gregor drew in a breath at her statement. Her trusting faith in him was going to one day be his undoing. ‘Outside of my family and the King, no one has ever said that to me. I thank you.’
With a frown etching her brow, she looked up at him, asking, ‘Do so few people know you are not truly a beast?’
He laughed softly, more out of amazement than humour, at her question. ‘Fewer than you could imagine.’
‘Well, that should be remedied.’
‘I’d prefer it remain as is. It would be a little hard to instil fear in others if they thought I was nothing more than a lovable dog.’
‘Even dogs bite.’
‘True.’
‘How did she die?’
He sighed. She wasn’t going to let this go until she’d heard the whole sordid truth. ‘Upon learning who she’d been wed to, she threw herself from the castle wall.’
‘No! Oh, Gregor, that is horrible.’
Exactly the response he’d expected—horror at what he’d let happen. He uncurled his fingers and started to pull his arm free.
She grasped his wrist, stopping his retreat. ‘I didn’t mean you were horrible.’
He glanced away. ‘I didn’t stop her.’
‘Do you believe that her death was somehow your fault?’ Her frown returned. ‘Gregor, as hard as you try, you cannot control everything, or everyone. As terrible as it may sound, had you stopped her, do you not think she’d have found another way?’
While that was a possibility he’d never considered, it changed nothing. A woman had taken her life rather than be wed to him.
‘Had you known her long?’ She paused, then said, ‘No. That was a silly question since she didn’t know who you were.’
‘Stop.’ He had no desire to discuss this any further. ‘Just stop.’
She clamped her lips shut and stared down at her lap. Before she could pull away, he placed a fingertip beneath her chin to draw her focus back to him. ‘We will arrive at the coast by this time tomorrow. I want to taste your kiss before our time together ends.’
Her eyes widened, but she hesitated.
‘You need only say no, Beatrice. I will not force you. And you need only ask me to stop whenever you wish me to do so.’
‘I do not worry about you forcing me.’
‘Then what do you fear?’
She raised a hand to his cheek. ‘That I might enjoy it too much and that you will make me long for things I can hardly imagine.’
Gregor sucked in a deep breath. Her explanation was so honest, her gaze so trusting, that for the first time in his adult life he wanted to weep at what he knew would soon be lost. This night, these few stolen hours were all they would ever share before his coming actions forced hate between them.
He wrapped both of his arms around her and dragged her across his lap. She reached up to curl her arms about his neck and pressed her lips to his.
Gregor smiled beneath her chaste kiss before easily parting her lips. She welcomed his kiss with a soft moan.
It would be all too easy to lose himself in this woman’s touch. He could gladly drown in the warmth wrapping around him.
Beatrice lowered her hands to his shoulders, fingers curling into his tunic. She drew away just far enough to say, ‘You still wear your armour.’
He understood her complaint. It had become uncomfortable, but he wasn’t about to remove the chainmail. At this moment it provided more protection for her than it did for him. The risk of losing control this night was great. The hindrance of the mail would give him the needed time to regain common sense were he to consider doing anything they might come to regret.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he eased her back into their kiss.
She gently pushed away to pluck once again at his tunic. ‘This will not do, Gregor. Your mail is hard. I pose no threat to your life. Remove it.’
He grasped her shoulders and waited until she returned his gaze. ‘The threat is not to me, but to you.’
‘Very noble of you, I am sure, but silly none the less. The protection these links of metal may offer are not wanted, or welcome. Should I decide to have my way with you, this shirt of mail will protect neither of us.’
One corner of his lips twitched. Her tongue had grown bolder. ‘Should you decide?’
‘Did you not just say that you would stop whenever I asked you to do so? Has that changed?’
He reached up to stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers. She would tempt even the saints. ‘No, that has not changed.’
She rose and tugged at his hand. ‘I want to feel a man beside me, not a warrior ready to ride into battle.’
He bit back a heartfelt, but crude reply, but he couldn’t help think that their coming marriage bed would require a warrior ready for battle. Gregor stood up and pulled off his tunic, then leaned over. Before he could request a hand in removing the hauberk, Beatrice was attempting to tug the chainmail over his head. Between the two of them, they managed to slide the armour far enough off his body so that it landed on the ground with a ringing thud.
He straightened up, glanced at the pile of chainmail and shook his head. ‘You’d not make a good squire.’
‘Thankfully that is a position I’ve never desired. We can call one of your men if you’d like.’ She started working on the ties of his gambeson. ‘Although, I would prefer you not.’
Once she had the ties free, he pushed her hands away and tore the quilted garment over his head. Dropping it on top of the bunched-up chainmail, he said, ‘I think we managed quite well. Besides, they’d be shocked to see my armour in this condition.’
Gregor took one of her hands between his own and brought it to his lips. ‘It is not too late to back away.’
Beatrice stepped closer. Pressed tightly against his chest, she looked up at him. ‘If you are afraid, I promise to be gentle.’
He laughed. Not only would she tempt the saints, she’d have them quaking in their shoes. Releasing her hands to wrap his arms around her, he warned, ‘I promise no such thing.’
She shivered against him, whispering, ‘I’m not sure what to do, or—’
‘Hush.’ Gregor brushed his lips against hers, cutting off her words. ‘I was but teasing you. Nothing is going to happen that you haven’t already done.’
No matter how much he wanted to make her his, he wasn’t about to do that without the priest’s blessing. As improbable as it was a stray arrow could take his life in battle, leaving her hard pressed to make a good marriage, or possibly carrying his child.
He swept her up in his arms and returned to the blanket. After carefully lowering her to the ground, he stretched out alongside.
Even though he’d told her nothing new was going to take place, her nervous anticipation was apparent. She’d folded her hands together on top of her stomach, clenching them so tightly her nails were pressing into her skin.
Gregor covered her hands and felt the tremors rippling through her body. He’d never been alone with such an innocent before, especially not one as brazen as this. He could only begin to imagine the trouble she could get herself into. Her bold talk and inexperience would likely be seen as a challenge worth accepting to most men.
‘Beatrice, look at me.’
It took a few moments, but she finally pulled her stare away fro
m the sky above to turn it on him.
He trailed a finger along the line of her jaw. ‘I am not a stranger to you. I vowed to protect you and have done so.’ He leaned over and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. ‘Tell me what you fear.’
‘I’m not sure. I do trust you with my life, so I thought this would be easier.’ She shook her head, then continued. ‘At first, Charles’s kisses were...lovely. But then, I only wanted his kisses to end.’
‘I am not Charles.’
‘I know, but what if it had nothing to do with him, but instead was me?’
Gregor pried her hands apart and lifted one to his shoulder, then gathered her in his arms and rolled her on to her back. He lowered his head, pausing a breath above her lips to say, ‘Hush. You worry about foolish things for naught.’
Beatrice jerked slightly at the force of his kiss before responding in kind. This was no gentle touch of exploration. It was an invasion of the senses. Far from leaving her ready to swoon at the rush of dizzying desire, it made her want more than just the feel of his lips on hers.
She shifted beneath him and tightened her hold, trying to get closer. Yet no matter how hard she strained it was not enough.
He broke their kiss. ‘Beatrice, stop. Relax.’
‘I cannot.’ She knew what she wanted—she wanted him. It was unlikely that she’d see him again and it was even more unlikely that she’d ever meet another man as trustworthy as Gregor. So, if this night was her last chance to be with him, as sinful and foolish as it was, she wanted this man, this man who she trusted, to be her first...lover.
In the short time she’d known Gregor, she’d learned more about him than she had about Charles in the last three years. And she’d learned things about herself, too. He’d taught her that fear was something that could be beaten if you looked at it and faced it head on. She’d come to realise that there was so much more to a man than the way he looked, or the honey-coated words that fell from his lips.
Things like honour, loyalty and strength counted for much more than she’d ever imagined. Those things would make a man more worthy as a husband than anything else.
But Gregor of Roul would never be her husband and if this one night was all she would have, then she wanted more than anything else to know what it would be like to be his wife. But even she wasn’t bold enough to ask him to take her and satisfy this burning desire. ‘I am so tense that I feel as though I am going to shatter.’