She shivered.
His lips curved like he saw something more that pleased him. ‘You felt it elsewhere, yes? Not just from my hands, not just from your skin. But here in the thumping of your heart, in the flutters just under your skin, in the hitch of your breath.’
She did feel those things and more. She was being touched after years and years of nothing, and now it was almost too much.
‘I understand,’ she whispered, as his eyes searched hers, and he gave a rueful look.
‘Yes, but not nearly enough,’ he answered as his hands swept stronger lingering strokes.
Until she felt a want far past the sweep of his hands on her thighs and hips. Beyond the glide of his fingertips on her belly.
She quivered. ‘I understand,’ she said more forcibly.
‘Not yet.’
When he lowered his head, when he cupped an ankle and drew it to his mouth for his kisses, for his tongue. She wasn’t prepared for the flare of heat, like being speared with pleasure.
‘No, no, stay,’ he coaxed when she tried to escape. ‘You have unsurpassed legs, Helissent. Is this what baking gave you? This strength, these lines?’ He kissed her calves, caressed along her thighs. His kisses trailing higher the way his hands went.
Her left leg suffused with pleasure, he began on the other. ‘Do you have any idea how many times I imagine your bare legs? Your height against mine?’
He kept kissing and stroking until she ached with need. She couldn’t stand it when he gave the first delicate swipe of his tongue behind her knee, when he wedged himself between her legs to caress further, to kiss higher…
‘Rhain!’
He gave a humorless laugh. ‘Do you know how often I’ve imagined this?’ he murmured against her skin. ‘It’s my turn to make demands, to give you no choice.’ His fingers fluttered to the very core of her.
Images of him with the pommel of his dagger, the caressing strokes of his palm. All of it she felt now against her skin.
‘So sweet,’ he whispered. ‘So ready for my touch, for my tongue. To taste you now…’
She gasped, her back arching. His hands at her hips anchoring her as pleasure overcame her.
* * *
Rhain knelt between Helissent’s legs and knew he’d never be the same. None of it was pretend. All of it real.
So beautiful. Her body gathering in her breath, her neck and cheeks flushed with desire. A sheen to her skin that he brought there. Her eyes closed, her neck still arched.
The flames had taken away her modesty, and he’d reveled in her open responses. Every kiss, every touch, every taste glorious. Responsive as no woman had ever been.
Soon she would open her eyes and see what she had brought him, too. His body shaking, his breeches pulled taut. The sharp pain welcomed now because he could focus on it instead of her softness.
She humbled him, but now, all too acutely, cold reality crept in. He was unworthy of her. Unworthy in every way, both inside and out. He should have been a knight, noble, who didn’t cave to his needs. He should have left her alone in the cellar.
So weak when it came to her, but he must find whatever strength he had left and walk away.
Surely, she would know now her capability of bringing a man to his knees. That she was worthy of love and desire, surely now she would let him leave.
A curve to her lips, she murmured as she sat up and he schooled his features.
‘The inn is completely quiet,’ he said. ‘You could go undetected to your room.’
‘Aren’t we…?’ She pulled her knees to her chest, and looked forcibly at him. ‘I know what happens with men and women. I know there’s more.’
He’d hated himself in the past. Felt shame his brother carried a burden that was never his.
He was the one, who was vile, and tainted on the inside. Each burning pulse of Devil’s blood through his heart a reminder of his past, of how he could never truly have her.
She smiled at him, a glow to her skin, to her eyes. An inviting warmth. She was happy, and he wanted more with her.
From the firm line of her jaw, and her piercing eyes, she wasn’t going to let him simply walk away as he needed to. As she needed him to.
So he’d have to do more than merely leave. He’d have to take away some of her happiness. To do so, he’d lie to her. A mercenary lies all the time; this should be no different.
She was different.
He couldn’t do it. How could he be cruel when they shared so much? Cold sweat sheened and ice flowed under his heated skin. He turned the craving for her inward until it pained him. He needed to suffer. Outwardly, he needed to pretend that he could leave her.
After all they’d shared, he must lie to her to keep her safe…from him.
‘This was all pretend, remember?’ he said.
‘I…no, it was real. I know it was.’
He shrugged. ‘Because I gave you pleasure? You’re only one of the many women I’ve lain with. I gave them all pleasure.’
She frowned. He stood, his body racked with need, with want for her. He watched her eyes stare blatantly at his need.
‘But you didn’t lie with me. I didn’t get to touch you or—’
Each word she gave slashed his insides, all phrases he said burned his throat. He wanted her touch, wanted so much more. But she was determined, and he needed to keep her safe, from Reynold, from him. So he forced his words out, like they were knives. ‘Why would I want that?’ He almost sneered at her scarred hand.
Then he yanked on his tunic. Shocked he could get it over the knives he’d buried in his own heart. Wrapped his belt around him, tightening it until it felt like a noose around his neck. His shoes he merely picked up. His body suddenly too weak as if the bits of leather and lace were boulders ready to crush him.
He wanted to be crushed and hung and stabbed as Helissent then said, ‘So all those words about my scars. All your…kisses, and touch, what were they?’
‘You know how curious I am. I wondered what your skin felt like, how it would respond. And you satisfied that curiosity.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe I am no different than those men Rudd introduced you to.’
She gasped then, her eyes sheening in the flickering light. Her shoulders jutted back, her chin raised as if he’d rejected her.
He had to reject her. He couldn’t stay here. He wanted to show her what she meant and he made it all worse. She made it worse by asking for more.
He clenched his eyes—no, this wasn’t about her. It was all his fault. She didn’t know how much worse it could be if he made love to her.
Kissing, touching and tasting her wasn’t the first mistake he’d made in the heat of a moment. He’d done that in London and it cost him his life.
He wouldn’t stay and be the cost of hers.
When he got to the door, he stopped to see her one last time. Even sitting vulnerable and exposed, she looked steadily at him. He still couldn’t tell the color of her eyes. And as his gaze lingered, he could barely grasp the emotion behind them.
Then he closed the door, knowing that all that waited for him was disappointment, regrets and death. Maybe he could beg Reynold to torture him before his death. He deserved far worse.
* * *
Helissent sat for only a few moments after Rhain left. The cold dampness of the room amplified now though the torch flared brighter with the closing of the door.
It was quiet, like those caves behind Agnes’s hut. Earlier this evening, she’d sought sanctuary here, but no longer did the room feel comforting.
It was good she didn’t need comfort any more. Quickly standing to dress, Helissent felt a lightness and a determination she had never felt before.
With Rhain’s last words, she should have felt hurt, but couldn’t. Not when he’d given her a gift no one else
had ever given.
He had made her believe with his touch and kisses that she deserved more than her shame. Just as the innkeepers showed her love, just as she carried on because of that, she would find a way for Rhain now. Despite what he said, the cruelty of his sneer. When he looked back at her, she saw the truth in his eyes.
It was him that needed comfort. He said those words because…oh, she didn’t know why, but she knew she didn’t believe a word he said in the end.
She loved him. Of that she was certain. He needed her and she’d been willing to give herself to him.
He needed peace, needed the warmth she gave him. What she didn’t know was why. She desperately wanted to know why.
He said he didn’t deserve her, but he was wrong. Somehow, some way, it would be her turn to show him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rhain walked in the dark morning mist. Two days. Two muted days where he’d avoided the inn and avoided the markets. Kept away from anywhere Helissent could be.
He’d failed her; couldn’t face her. Coward that he was. What could he do or say? There were no words or actions to make it better. Not when his only action, to leave her, was the right thing to do.
He should have walked away in the garden. Should never have sought her company. Certainly should have closed the door when he saw her in the cellar.
But something in him wanted to make it right, to ease the pain he saw in her hazel eyes when he walked away. Show her how much she was worth. What a fool to show her the way he did with kisses, with his tainted body. He had to stop. It was the only way to show her what she meant to him. How he would never hurt her.
But by stopping, he made it worse. She lost that light, that belief in herself.
And he ached for her. Past the tension and need racking his every nerve, his very blood. The kisses he could never steal from her again still seared. The courage and softness of her skin fevered him. Anguish bit at his heart.
It was of no comfort that he wouldn’t live long like this. Not when he remembered the last look she gave him before he closed the door.
He found Nicholas checking the perimeters of the inn. At this time of the morning, only the bakers were awake and, unfamiliar with York, Nicholas strolled slowly through the thin grey light. Rhain pulled his hood tighter against the heavy mist and hurried to catch him.
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ he said, purposefully striding noisily up to Nicholas. Part of his friend’s sight was diminished, but not his hearing, and he was fast on dagger throws. The longer they were away from London and Guy’s death, the more alert Nicholas had become. It was no surprise to see him up this early, walking around the buildings and checking the security.
‘I slept fine enough,’ Nicholas replied. ‘It’s when I’m awake that I remember the trouble tailing us.’
Rhain couldn’t seem to forget. Days in York and no sign of Reynold or his men.
With Nicholas’s words, it seemed the wait was over. ‘You didn’t just wake up. You heard something.’
Nicholas gave a curt nod and they walked to a darkened corner of a building. ‘Just now. I was here to receive information, but it’s not news you’re wanting to hear.’
Rhain’s eyes went to the inn where Helissent slept and his eyes professionally scanned the narrow mid-terrace structure for weakness, or any signs of danger.
‘It’s not her you should worry about,’ Nicholas said drily. ‘It’s you.’
‘If Reynold’s near, I have to worry about her. The man’s as rich as the King, he doesn’t have to be near to send someone to kill her.’
‘He said he’d give her safe passage.’
Only to York, which wasn’t enough for him. ‘But not keep her safe.’
‘He doesn’t truly want her. This is personal for him. He’s going to want the man who killed his brother.’
‘It’s personal for me, too.’
Nicholas exhaled. ‘Does she know that?’
‘No, and she won’t. I was kind to one other creature and look what happened to her.’ He wouldn’t risk Helissent by being close to her again. Reynold could kill her with as little thought as Guy had the dog.
‘This conversation is moot anyway.’ Nicholas looked over his shoulder. ‘He’s here, a little over half-a-day’s ride outside the North Wall. He’s holed up in a country house with some fortification. It’s so well lit at night, you could probably see his men walking the perimeters simply by standing on top of the wall there and looking for mass movement.’
Foreboding flooded Rhain’s veins, but not surprise. He’d been waiting for the time he’d meet with Reynold. But how he was about to meet him was a surprise. He always imagined Reynold would attack by stealth or by force. Not sit like a king upon his throne and wait for the attendance of the man he would soon behead.
The ramifications of Reynold’s comfort and protection weren’t lost on Rhain. No, the only thing he lost was any time left. Unerringly, his eyes went to Helissent’s building. ‘Not even hiding.’
‘No, he expected you travelling north to Edward’s camp. Probably has been comfortably whiling away his time until you travelled his way.’
Reynold was daring; he’d give him that. He had to respect a man who didn’t hide. He rubbed the hilt at his side. ‘It’s not even arrogance that he displays himself, is it?’
Nicholas shook his head. ‘The moment we left London this was all set. By the time York’s gates were closed behind us we were firmly in his trap.’
‘Just me in his trap.’
‘Are we still arguing this? I was there, too.’
Nicholas was right. It was a vain hope that Reynold would be a reasonable man and let Nicholas live. Unlike Guy, Reynold’s reputation was calculating, cold, but rumors weren’t facts. The fact was: Nicholas was present when he had gutted Guy.
Still Rhain did hold to one hope that might be possible. ‘Not the others…not Helissent. They weren’t anywhere near us that night.’ Which meant Reynold, without losing any pride, could let them go.
‘True, it’s not about them or her. But it’s not up to just us either, because we can’t kill him by ourselves.’
‘Then we plan to go around him. He’s has too many men; we are more mobile. Maybe backtrack south.’ He could wait out Reynold for as long as it took.
Nicholas held out his arm and unfurled his left hand to reveal a small crumpled note. ‘Remember that secret meeting I had with the secret source?’
Rhain took the note. ‘It wasn’t a secret?’
‘He never showed. I was met by one of Reynold’s men.’
Rhain read the one sentence. Then read it again before he, too, curled it tightly in his fist.
‘So Reynold’s declaring his wait is over.’ All his intentions to ensure his men into Edward’s profitable employ were lost.
They could find their own employment and yet, for mercenaries, they were loyal. He wanted to do better by them. Perhaps he could give them enough money to compensate for this one extremely ill-timed lack of good judgement.
However, killing Guy wasn’t his only lack of judgement. What would become of Helissent? He’d brought her to York. The innkeepers were overjoyed with her. She could have a happy stable life here. Just not with him. His time was up.
‘He may leave her alone,’ he said.
‘He may,’ Nicholas said, his words agreeing, his tone heavy with doubt.
‘By tomorrow night, I’m a dead man.’
‘Without a doubt,’ Nicholas confirmed.
If he was dead, so was Nicholas. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said for the thousandth time.
Nicholas laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. ‘What did I say about taking in stray dogs? There will always be trouble. But this time, Reynold will be taking us in. Whatever happens, at least we can give him some trouble to remember us
by.’
Rhain clasped the top of Nicholas’s arm. ‘Like a couple of stray dogs, then.’
* * *
Helissent could not catch her breath, could not move her legs. They didn’t feel like they had the strength to hold her up much longer.
No, the only thing that did that was the building she leaned against, but even that was poor support. When Rhain and Nicholas continued their walk, she slid to the ground.
She had been returning from the kitchens, leaving her bread to prove in the warmth, when she heard their voices on the other side of the building. Her bread was safe.
But she wasn’t, and neither was Rhain or Nicholas. The damage was done. Damage. Danger. So much danger.
Rhain had talked of what happened with the puppies. That Guy had a powerful brother after him. He’d warned her to stay away from him.
But she thought some solution could be found without…death. But Reynold had come for Rhain.
Stray dogs did cause trouble. She understood a bit now the joke between Rhain and Nicholas. Somehow they meant themselves.
How she didn’t know. Both of the men were silent on their pasts, but there were snippets on Nicholas’s as if he, too, had some personal pain he was trying to overcome.
If she knew Rhain and his band of mercenaries at all by now, she knew this. He protected strays.
She was one of them. Homeless, he took her in, protected her, fed her. Just as he did that feral pregnant dog. Just as he did the men he worked with, the men he called his friends.
Men, scarred, burned and damaged, just like her. She lifted her hands before her. One roughed from work, but passable, the other…the other had held her sister.
She had nightmares still of that ceiling falling. Of clutching her sister’s hand, while the smoke overtook them both. She hadn’t let go, not ever, and that was why it was badly scarred. The healer always told her she was lucky she could move it.
Maybe she was lucky. She was alive and Rhain needed her. At least now, she knew how to show him he deserved more.
It was a risk, and one she needed to take. What had Rhain called Reynold? A madman, with more slices, burns and intentions to kill than any other man he had met.
Marriage Deal With the Outlaw & the Warrior's Damsel in Distress & the Knight's Scarred Maiden : Harlequin Historical August 2017 (9781488021640) Page 66