by Jillian Hart
He held her afterward, pressing kisses to her face and breasts. She chased away the darkness within him—for just this moment.
They left in the depth of night, when rain cloaked the sound of their movements. None save Malcolm’s most trusted men knew he was strong enough to leave. Elin had sheathed an extra dagger at her waist. They could not summon attention with a large party of knights for protection. Just four accompanied them—Ian, Giles, Hugh and the mercenary Rory, freed from Edward’s dungeons.
The rains blew against their backs during the fast dash through the night. Malcolm led them north, and Elin rode at his side. Only she knew that he still suffered with weakness, but his weakness equalled another man’s strength. He sat in his saddle with spine and shoulders straight, invincible.
When a castle’s silhouette rose against the landscape, Elin recognized the shape of tower and parapet. “’Tis my aunt Elizabeth’s keep.”
“Aye. I am allied to her through marriage, so I have decided to use her knights on my quest.”
“See what a convenient wife I am?”
“Elin, in all the years ahead of us as man and wife, convenient will never be a term I use to describe you.” Affection stirred in his husky laugh. “Can I trust you to stay with your aunt and cause no trouble?”
“I thought I would accompany you.”
“Nay, ’tis too dangerous.” He drew his stallion to a halt in the shadows of the castle walls. “I would have you safe, so I can give all my concentration to the task ahead.”
Love flashed in her heart, bright enough to rival the largest of stars. He wanted her safe. He cared about her far more than he would admit. She drew her mare to a halt before him. “I will stay with my aunt.”
“Well chosen.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. Moments passed as he studied her without words and without breath, as if to memorize the shape of her face. “Guard! What lazy scoundrel is on watch this night?”
“Who goes there?” A sleepy-faced youth peered from the battlements of the tower above.
“Malcolm le Farouche, Baron of Evenbough, and my wife, Lady Elinore. I request an immediate audience with the baroness.”
“’Tis impossible. She’s abed.”
“I come with an edict directly from the king. You will open this gate and gather fifty of your strongest men. Now, ere I climb up this wall and do it myself.”
“Aye, my lord.” The bridge creaked into place.
“Ian, aid in selecting the knights. Giles and Hugh, see that the men are ready to ride at my command. The boy must be rescued before dawn’s light.” Malcolm wheeled his stallion across the lowered bridge and through the castle gates.
Elin followed him, heart pounding. How could a man so fierce ignite such a softness within her?
“Elin!” Elizabeth dashed through the bailey, her nightclothes gleaming silver in the shadows. “Are you all right? What horror brings you to my castle at this late hour? Did your husband…” Her eyes widened at the sight of Malcolm astride his loyal destrier.
“I fare well, Aunt.” Elin jumped from her mare and raced into Elizabeth’s arms. “Malcolm comes from the king. He needs—”
“Edward trusts you will aid us.” The great knight once more, her husband reined in his agitated stallion and presented a parchment bearing the king’s seal. “Elin shall stay here in your care.”
He wheeled his destrier toward the front gate, his orders lingering in the cool air. He was as fierce as the night and looked twice as menacing.
“Malcolm!” Elin called into the darkness. “You cannot leave until I say good luck. I shall miss you.”
“I’ll not be gone long enough to miss.” But affection warmed his words and he did not look intimidating as he gazed upon her one last time. “Get your rest, dove. I shall need you when I return.”
Her heart fluttered like leaves in a welcome breeze as he charged his stallion into the shadows. Darkness claimed him, but his armor glimmered faintly as he galloped across the bailey.
Elizabeth’s arms wrapped her close. “Oh, Elin. I’d heard of the marriage. I wrote to beg the king to reconsider, but he refused.”
“You pleaded upon my behalf?”
“Aye. Le Farouche may be the greatest knight in the realm, but he is feared, with good reason. He came at the king’s command last summer to fight those who tried to take my castle.” Elizabeth shepherded her into the keep. “How has he harmed you?”
“Not at all.”
“He has humiliated and shamed you. I know how that is.” Elizabeth brushed at the curls along Elin’s brow. “But you must tell me.”
“Truly, he has been good to me.” Elin shrugged out of her wet mantle. A servant appeared to accept the garment, while another rushed to the hearth to feed the fire. “I thought a man’s touch would humiliate, but his did not.”
“He has bedded you.”
“Aye.” Elin knew she blushed, and turned her hands toward the flames, which radiated a welcome heat. “He is not harsh.”
“By the saints, I do not believe it.” Elizabeth took a steaming tankard from a servant’s tray and pressed it into Elin’s hands. “You love him?”
“I am not sure.” Her heart fluttered when she considered it. “Mayhap.”
“Then you are blessed.” Elizabeth drew a chair close to the hearth and gestured for the page to leave. “Few arranged marriages burn with affection’s light. Often they are brutal and cold.”
Like Mother’s. Like Elizabeth’s. “You chose not to give your husband children.”
“Thanks to a cup of tea I drank with every dawn.”
“When did you decide to never carry Barthel’s babe?”
“When he beat me near to death for not conceiving the first month of our marriage.” She stared hard into the flames, face shadowed by the dark fall of her hair. “Glad I am that he is gone from this earth.”
“I wish I can erase the hurt he caused you.” Elin hung her head. “I am now more grateful for my husband.”
“’Tis good that le Farouche treats you well. He wishes for an heir. What man does not?”
Elin remembered Malcolm’s words, and her throat ached with sweetness. “He told me he wants a child to bind us closer.”
“There is a greatness in conceiving with love. To nurture that life within your body and bring that babe into the world.” Elizabeth’s slender fingers traced the proud wax seal on the rolled parchment. “’Tis a bond unparalleled. If you love your fierce knight, then do not be afraid of it.”
Love for him burned in Elin’s heart, her weak and sentimental heart. Other women had shared Malcolm’s bed; he made no secret of that. But she was the one he trusted not to harm him, not to let an enemy into his chamber or lift a dagger to his back while he slept.
He honored her with a precious and rare faith. Giving her life to a man, especially one as fierce and powerful as Malcolm, terrified her. But she would do it. She would give him the babe he wanted, conceived in love and trust.
Chapter Fourteen
“Did you note the make of Helwain’s weapons?” Ian asked as they charged through blooming meadows, fresh from their victory at Helwain’s castle. “His sword matched the dagger I found in the bolt-hole tunnel. They match Elin’s brand of dagger.”
“Aye. Hewn by the same craftsmen.” Malcolm rubbed his brow with his right hand, and it shook with weakness. “You accuse my wife, Ian.”
“Not accuse. Only point out truths. I do not suspect her. I watched her save your life at the risk of her own. Some say she did so to avoid suspicion, but I know emotion and not deceit drove her. She loves you.”
Malcolm’s chest tightened. “Nay, love is a dangerous emotion, for it makes the finest of enemies. Rory, did you know Rees and I were great friends once?”
“It cannot be.” The mercenary was a rough man, but the nobility in his blood rang in his words and voice. This morning, he’d kept his oath of fealty to the crown and tricked the lesser lord Helwain into revealing where the boy was imprisoned. �
�Rees spoke of you with such vehemence. He swore you stole his rightful place beside the king and brought shame and disgrace to his name.”
“I was young and not wise enough to recognize the jealousy lurking behind his friendship. A former ally knows a man’s weakness better than a stranger.” Malcolm knew this more surely than most.
“Then do you believe Elin betrays you?” Ian asked.
“I believe someone wishes me to think so.”
The walls and towers of Rosecliff gleamed white in the midmorning sun, surrounded by crisp green fields. Flowers warred with the grasses for color; purples and whites and yellows splashed across the meadows and led his gaze to where Elin knelt, gathering flowers.
“Looks like your lady is still not given to obedience.” Anger marked Ian’s voice. “It maddens me how she refuses to respect you.”
“Lily was a woman of great obedience and respect, and her betrayal was the darkest.” Malcolm only had to look at Elin to feel renewed. “Pray, let it bother you not, Ian. I do not mind her spirited nature.”
“Malcolm!” She dashed toward him, breaking past the knights on horseback who ringed her and the baroness. “I was beginning to worry. Did you rescue the child? Where are the others?”
“Guarding Helwain’s keep. Hugh is returning the boy to his mother. Baroness, I thank you for the use of your men, on Edward’s behalf.”
Elizabeth bowed her head, shy and trying to hide her fear of him. “Glad I am Edward has you to defend him.”
“Malcolm, how fares your arm?” Elin caught his left hand and he lifted her up onto his lap. She smelled like spring and looked like temptation. Her fingers massaged his right shoulder. “I feared the lingering weakness would hamper your ability to fight.”
“You feared for naught.” He didn’t wish to speak about the lack of strength in his right side. “I thought I ordered you to stay in the castle.”
“We are upon the grounds, and Elizabeth’s men stood guard. And for what? Only birds and rabbits have bothered us.”
She pressed a kiss to his mouth, and he caught her nape with his hand, balling her curls in his fist. Her kiss was gentle and welcoming, his driven by the need to cherish her.
She was his now, truly his. He could feel it in the way she leaned into his arms, could read it in her beaming smile. He left his horse with a stable boy and allowed Elin to lead him inside the keep.
Her fingers held his tightly, as if she feared he would let go of her. But he followed her up the flights of stairs and into a chamber, where a bed bathed in sunlight awaited them.
“Let me serve as your squire.” She tugged at his shoulder plate, her angelic face twisting with a moment’s frustration. “I know not what to do, but my goal is the same.”
“Your goal?”
“To release you from your clothes.”
Buttercups tucked in her hair caught the sun’s light, glowing with a deep heavenly gold that made him think of a time before the Outremer. He had not much looked at beauty since, but now it was all he saw—the glimmer of her curls, the delicate line of her neck and shoulder and the glimpse of her breasts beneath the flowing gown of white and yellow.
She lifted his metal hauberk and lowered his mailed chausses. He tore off the quilted layers beneath, stepping naked into her arms. Laughing, she fell back onto the bed, bringing him with her.
She tasted like springtime, like fresh grasses, fragrant flowers and warm winds. He stripped her naked, and she laughed again, pulling him over her. With his weight braced on his elbows, he saw in her eyes the fragile heart she protected so carefully. A heart she trusted him with.
How he wanted to be what she needed, a man who could love her the way she deserved. Who would not climb from this bed and attend to the battles needing to be waged, the enemies routed, the truths uncovered. He lived and died by the sword still, and naught in the world, even the saints above, could drive that from his soul.
But for now, for her, he would give her what heart he had. He kissed her when she arched her hips to his, trapping his hard shaft between them in invitation. He did not act, but merely kissed her more, slow and aching until he hurt with it. Her arms clasped his shoulders, and she cried out when he turned his attention to her breasts. He wrapped his tongue around one pebbled nipple and laved and suckled and laved again until her head whipped from side to side and her hands fisted against him.
She arched her hips again, eager to take him. But he was not finished. He rolled her over and trailed kisses down the length of her spine. He stroked his hands over the ridges of her ribs and down the smooth backs of her thighs.
Moaning, she arched her hips, begging for that part of him. When he did not oblige her, she twisted away, caught him around the shoulders and pulled him down into her arms.
She wanted him. Only him. He could read it in the dark gleam of her eyes and feel it in the trembling of her body. He entered her in a slow sweet glide of sensation. She was heaven and fire. She clung to him and pressed kisses to his face. Release shivered through her before he filled her completely.
If only he could make this sweetness last. He clenched his teeth, bridled his lust and thrust into her slowly. Her head lolled back into his hands, and she moaned again and again, release after release rippling through her like the tide upon the shore.
Each climax drained away more of his control until he could stand it no more. He drove fast and ruthlessly until pleasure exploded and he filled her with his seed. With her ankles locked around his hips, she held him there. Soon they were moving together toward an even greater pleasure.
’Twas torture to step away from the haven of his arms. But he slept, finally slept. ’Twas endearing to see this man of fire and steel look peaceful, with every fierce muscle relaxed. Even his big hands lay slack against the pillow.
Pleasure still tingled through her. She slipped a light undertunic over her head, and the linen shivered down her body. She knelt before the fire and fed the dwindling flames. Then she grabbed a pad and lifted the kettle from its hook in the hearth.
She steeped a cup of herbs and tea. Her hands shook with what she was about to do. And yet the thought of a babe no longer terrified her. Malcolm’s love was a gentle one; he’d shown her that today. Not always fierce and overwhelming, but tender and heartfelt.
He was a man who’d risked his life to save a commoner’s little boy. He would not harm a child. He would not lift his hand in punishment. Tears gathered behind Elin’s eyes in gratefulness. Malcolm was hers, and she gave thanks for it.
The brew looked steeped enough. She added a few drops of honey. The cup warmed her hands.
Malcolm’s fingers curled around her shoulder. “You have made a decision then?”
“Aye.” She took a sip.
His fingers squeezed hard, but not bruising. “’Tis as it should be.” He left her, his gait uneven as he trailed his clothes across the floor.
He seemed so sad. Did he think… “This is not to prevent a babe, but to increase my chances of conceiving.”
He stilled, his back muscles bunching tight.
She took an unsteady breath and set the cup aside. “I thought this would please you. You said—”
He turned and dropped to his knees before her. His face twisted with emotion, and his eyes gleamed with unspoken affection. “Aye, ’tis what I wish. An unbreakable bond with you, my sweet wife.”
He kissed her hard, and dragged her above him to the floor. He was aroused and she was wet, and he guided her over his shaft and thrust into her. She cried out at the pleasure. He felt like magic and dreams, and release tore through her once more.
“What happened here?” Malcolm’s fury thundered when he saw the devastation at Helwain’s front gate. Five of Elizabeth’s men lay on the ground, dead. He ordered Elin and Elizabeth to be careful as they rode through the bailey.
A sixth knight moaned, and Malcolm dismounted and knelt beside him. “Who did this?”
“Treachery from within.” The man wheezed.
“One of your men did this?”
“One of yours.” He grimaced as more blood sluiced from the wound in his back. “’Twas an organized attack. Riders approached, and I stood on the wall to see if they were the king’s men. The next thing I knew I was hit from behind, and I fell to the ground with this wound.” He coughed, struggling. “I saw a man in armor open the gate and allow the villains through. I could not see his face.”
“They freed Helwain?”
“Aye.” Pain fractured the man’s words.
“Let me tend him.” Elin pushed past, herb basket in hand. “I need boiled water. Elizabeth, come help me.”
Malcolm stood, trusting Elin to her work, and bowed his head. Rage lanced like a blade. He’d ordered Ian to return and await the king’s guards, when he himself should have stayed. Where were all the men?
He found the knights locked within a dungeon. They were not harmed, but furious. Ian was among them, hard with wrath. Malcolm pulled his commander aside, angry at this failure. “What happened here?”
“Treachery, my lord.” Ian swiped blood from his face. More blood sluiced from his left arm, where a crossbow bolt had shallowly pierced his armor. “I did what I could to stop it.”
“Aye.” A stout knight spit on the ground. “Treachery it was. A band of armed men surrounded us with crossbows. They threw us into a cell like shameful cowards. And ’twas your man’s fault.”
“Giles.” Rage twisted Ian’s face. “He betrayed us to the enemy.”
“Giles led the revolt?” Malcolm turned to face the wall. Disbelief punched him. Nay, not Giles, too. He didn’t want to believe it. He and Giles had fought side by side for many years.
“Think of it, my lord. Giles failed to protect you when we stormed Evenbough Castle. Had he stayed at your back, you might not have been dangerously injured. It was an innocent act at the time, yet now one must wonder. And now this.” Ian rammed his fist against the wall. “I wish that we’d never trusted him.”
“He is not the first to betray me.” Malcolm’s heart felt so weary. Of all his knights, he placed the most trust in Giles, a man dedicated to high ideals. “Giles’s family was ransomed this winter, then killed. The king did not pursue and punish the kidnappers.” Mayhap grief had driven his friend. “I chased the outlaws across the Channel myself and into Normandy. I did all I could to find Giles’s sister.”