He sounded so reasonable and that only made her feel worse. “Aye,” she nearly whispered. “I do.”
He eyed her lowered head. “But let us presume that I am foolish for a moment,” he said. “If you ever repeat that, I will deny saying it and I will whip you soundly for lying. But, for argument’s sake, let us say I am foolish. A few days ago, I met the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is stubborn and rigid and frustrating. She refuses to do what I ask. If she had been a man, I would have bound her up and thrown her in the river. Because she is a woman, however, I did not. I have come to discover that along with those annoying traits, she is also brilliant and compassionate and brave. I have never seen such a brave woman. Do you understand what I am saying?”
By this time, Emera had turned to face him, astonishment on her features. The brilliant blue eyes were wide with shock at words she never thought she would hear from him. In fact, she was so surprised that she wasn’t quite following what he was saying.
“I… I do not know,” she said honestly. “You think I am annoying?”
He frowned at her. “You are not listening to me,” he said. “Let us try this another way – you tell me what you think of me. And be honest, for I have been honest with you.”
Now, the focus was on her and her innermost thoughts, ideas and feelings she had kept carefully guarded. At least, she had kept them guarded until she had run from him. Now, she knew he suspected how she felt. Only a fool would not have figured that out and, as he’d said, he was no fool. Since he had been brave in speaking his mind, she decided she might as well be, too. But it was difficult to bring forth what was in her heart.
Did she even dare try?
“I have told you that I never intend to marry,” she said hesitantly, swallowing hard because her mouth was dry. “I have only wanted to help others, never thinking of myself and my own personal happiness. But… but I met you and even though we have had moments of frustration as you have called it, I have also seen moments of generosity and warmth from you that makes me feel… I suppose it makes me feel things I have never felt before. I have never known anyone like you. Do you understand what I am saying?”
He did. But he wanted to hear it from her. “I do. But I asked you first. Tell me everything.”
He was being deliberately stubborn but she could see an impish gleam in his eye. He knew he was being difficult and he didn’t care. Some of her nervousness left her and she sighed heavily, now irritated by the fact that he seemed to be toying with her.
“I mean that I have never wanted to marry,” she repeated, snappish. “But if I were to meet a man like you, and he felt for me as I feel for him, then I would, mayhap, change my mind. Now, you tell me what you meant.”
The corners of his mouth twitched in a way that greatly frustrated her. He was toying with her!
“I lost my wife and children years ago,” he said. “You already know that. I have no intention of remarrying, ever. Now that I know how you feel about me, it will make you the perfect chatelaine, for if you love me, you will never leave me.”
That wasn’t what Emera had expected to hear from him and her eyes opened wide. “And that is all you have to say about that?”
“That is all.”
She grunted loudly, hugely frustrated that he had coerced her into confessing her thoughts without reciprocating other than to make a hugely boastful statement. Enraged, she gathered her skirts and pushed around him.
“I will leave you,” she growled. “I will leave you right now and you shall never see me again. Of all the arrogant things to say! If I love you? Who says I love you? I did not say that!”
He reached out to grab her before she could get away and Emera could hear him laughing softly, low in his throat. Suddenly, she was trapped up against him, his face in hers, and all she could see was that smug, seductive smile on his lips. Outraged, she tried to bring her hands up to smack that smarmy look off of his face but he trapped her arms, rendering her unable to move. He continued to laugh.
“You spark to anger faster than anyone I have ever seen,” he murmured. “But I rather like that. You only anger because I mean something to you.”
“Nay!”
“Admit it.”
“I will not!”
His laughter continued and he suddenly dipped his head down, nuzzling her cheek, her neck. His breath against her flesh was causing her entire body to quiver, now overheating because of his tender attentions. She could feel his lips, tenderly kissing her neck, and it was enough to suck the fight right out of her. She’d never had a man touch her in such a way and the effects were nearly paralyzing. Her struggles slowed but they didn’t cease completely.
“Stop, Juston,” she commanded, trying to sound firm but failing miserably. “Stop this right now. I do not want you to do this.”
He nipped at her neck and her entire body shuddered with excitement. “Liar,” he whispered. “You want me to do this. You have wanted me to do this for quite some time.”
Her eyes were starting to roll back in her head and she was quickly giving up the fight. Everything in her body was turning molten, as if her limbs had no more shape or form. Everything was melting. She struggled to retain the last scraps of her sanity.
“Please, Juston,” she whispered. “Please stop.”
He lifted his head from her neck, looking her in the eye. It was all hot breath and trembling flesh between them, swept up in the roaring blaze that had ignited. Juston had been singed by such a blaze before and he knew how to quench it. He asked her what was inarguably the most important question he had ever asked.
“Do you really want me to?”
Emera started to nod her head. At least, that was what her reasoning mind told her. But everything in her body was screaming for him to continue and that was the call she heeded. She couldn’t even muster the strength or will to feel like a fallen woman for doing so.
“Nay,” she whispered. “I do not.”
Juston latched on to her mouth, claiming her in the most forceful way possible. He swooped in over her, bending her head back at the same time he crushed her body against his and, at that moment, he knew he’d lost control. He’d tried to kiss her before but it had always been in lust, in the heat of the moment, but this… this was different.
This fire was fed by a different source.
As Juston overwhelmed her with his presence, Emera had absolutely no control over herself. Juston’s scent, his power, quickly consumed her. Every method of self-protection she had ever employed was smashed as he held her against him, sucking the life from her. Her hands, usually slapping at him, were on his face, tangled in his long hair, as he backed her up against a frozen tree trunk, bracing her body against it as his hands began to roam.
Emera could feel his fingers fumbling with her cloak, loosening it so he could get to her body beneath. Did she care? The sensible part of her did. That part of her that knew what he wanted to do, instinctively, and that part of her which wanted to protect her maidenhood. But the part of her that was weak and willing to Juston and his desires did not resist. It was the stronger part of her at the moment for not only did she want the man to touch her, she liked it as well. She liked everything he was doing to her. She wanted him to do more.
More….
A big hand closed over a warm breast, the woolen fabric of her surcoat and shift between them. Emera flinched at his touch and tried to pull away, uncomfortable with it, but Juston’s kisses softened and he held her fast, his fingers caressing her breast, brushing against it, feeling the nipple tighten. He wanted her to become accustomed to his touch, to like what he was doing to her. When he pinched it through the fabric, she flinched and he laughed low, in his throat. That laugh, that deeply male rumble, caused her knees to tremble. It was like fuel on the fire.
The hand on her breast wandered away and his mouth moved from her lips to her neck, leaving Emera gasping for air. He had been suffocating her and she hardly realized it until now. As he suckled on her
neck, Emera could feel him tugging at her skirts. She was starting to come out of her haze now, realizing he was trying to lift them, but the moment his bare flesh touched the heated skin of her thigh, her intention to resist him fled. She rather liked his hand on her leg. She liked it even more when he moved it up her thigh, to the inside.
Something was happening to her, something she’d never before experienced. Her entire body was quivering strangely as Juston dragged his hand up her thigh, to her private core, an area she only touched when necessity required it. She’d never lingered on herself any more than that. But the moment Juston touched the smattering of dark curls between her legs, something let loose. Her body bucked against his and she could hear him muttering something about God, or bloody God, or something of that nature. It sounded like a prayer. Emera gasped as he stroked her, his touch gentle but sure, and Emera hips instinctively pushed against his hand. That primal gesture, the inherent gesture of all women seeking a man’s seed between their legs. To the scent of Juston’s silent mating call, Emera was responding without reserve.
“De Royans?”
It was a distant voice, filtered through the frozen trees, and Juston’s head came up immediately. It sounded like Gart but he couldn’t be sure and, for the lady’s sake, he didn’t want Gart to wander into the trees and find the lady in an unflattering position. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared about such things but with Emera, he did. He didn’t want his men to think of her in a negative light. Quickly, he removed his hand from her skirts and let her go, carefully, so she wouldn’t fall. He only realized then how firmly he’d had her backed up against the tree. He smoothed at her cloak, brushing off the tree bark, as Emera struggled to catch her breath.
Juston moved away from her, towards the opening in the trees that he had come through, knowing he had a raging erection but thankful that his mail and tunics covered it. It was a little painful, but nothing he couldn’t manage. He’d been in this position before. Emerging from the trees, he could clearly see Gart standing about ten feet away.
“The men said you had come in this direction,” Gart said. “Is everything well?”
Juston nodded. “Aye,” he said, not elaborating. “What do you require?”
Gart gestured back to the market area. “There are some buyers for the produce,” he said. “I was looking for the lady and some of the men said that she had run off and that you had gone after her. Did you find her?”
There was no use denying what men had seen. Juston nodded his head but before he could speak, Emera emerged from the trees looking utterly disheveled. Her lovely hair was askew, her clothing twisted, but she was apparently unaware because she looked at Gart and Juston quite innocently. Juston cringed inwardly, however, when he saw how red the woman’s mouth and chin were as the result of his beard stubble scraping against her. She also had a love bite on her chin. The woman looked as if she’d been mauled.
If Gart noticed, which he would have been a blind man not to, he didn’t say a word about it. He kept a straight face and looked her in the eye.
“My lady, there are some men who wish to buy your produce,” he said. “Will you come?”
Emera nodded. “Aye,” she said. “Do you know who they are? Did they give a name?”
“Stainton, my lady.”
That brought a bit of a reaction. “I see,” she said. She glanced at Juston. “The Stainton family has a big manse to the north of Gainford. They are quite wealthy.”
She started to walk with the men following. But Juston hung back, waiting until Gart passed them both, before tugging on her arm and making silent hand gestures about her hair and clothing. Chagrinned, Emera quickly smoothed at her hair, trying to tame it, but she couldn’t see the back of it so Juston licked his hand and smoothed down the back of her hair, trying to help her. He felt rather responsible for her slovenly appearance.
Not strangely, however, if given the chance again, he would have done it all over again. And given another opportunity like that, he would surely take it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Do you see them?” Christopher asked.
David, his eyes riveted to the quarry his brother spoke of, nodded slowly. “I did.”
“De Puiset men.”
“I know. I see their colors.”
Lingering near the Church of St. Mary where there was a great deal of traffic on this day, the de Lohr brothers had seen the de Puiset knights near the church, which made sense considering the town was part of the Bishop of Durham’s properties. They had been searching out additional food vendors while Erik and Gillem and Tristan were at the bakers, but the de Puiset knights saw the de Lohr brothers through the crowd and a staring contest of sorts began.
Juston purposely had his knights leave their tunics behind with the identifiable de Royans blue for a situation just like this. As he’d said, he didn’t want to announce his presence in town so it was best to try and stay as unrecognizable as possible. Therefore, de Puiset’s men had no idea who the de Lohr brothers were but from the way they were dressed, heavy armor and well used weapons, it was clear they were seasoned knights. Seasoned knights without heraldry were a mystery, and not a good one.
Christopher and David knew that they could not run, for the bishop’s men would only chase them, so they held their ground and didn’t move, even when Erik began shouting at them from over by the bakers. Christopher and David ignored the knight, so much so that Erik finally had to make his way over to them.
“Chris!” Erik called. “Did you not hear me? We are ready to leave.”
Christopher and David didn’t look at him. They were still looking at the church. “I heard you,” Christopher said steadily. “We have company, Erik.”
Erik had no idea what Chris was talking about until he looked to see what had them so riveted. Immediately, he saw the de Puiset knights and his entire manner changed. No longer irritated, his demeanor cooled dramatically.
“Indeed, we do,” he said, also staring down the bishop’s men from across the wide intersection. “The Bishop of Durham’s knights.”
“Where is Tristan?” Christopher asked without looking.
“He is with Gillem.”
“Instruct Gillem to return the boy to Juston immediately. Go with him and tell Juston that the bishop’s men are here. He must take all due care.”
Erik wasn’t keen on leaving Christopher or David but someone had to warn Juston so, very casually, he reined his horse back in the direction of the bakers where Gillem and Tristan were. As he fled, Christopher and David maintained their gazes on the distant knights, who were beginning to stir.
“What do we tell them?” David asked. “They will want to know who we are and where we are going. That is normal protocol.”
Christopher didn’t hesitate. “We are from Lohrham Forest,” he said. “We serve our uncle, Philip de Lohr, and we are going north to Scotland where our mother’s family lives.”
“But our mother wasn’t Scottish. She was the sister to the Earl of East Anglia.”
“I know that. But those knights do not.”
David memorized the story. A lie to prevent battle and bloodshed was understandable, especially since Tristan, son of Henry, was among their group. They couldn’t let the boy fall into Durham’s hands. Soon enough, the four Durham knights began to move, heading in their direction, casually moving through the crowd. Christopher spurred his horse forward, going to meet them, and David followed. They came together somewhere in the middle of the wide, muddy street.
“Who are you?” a knight with a bushy, dirty beard demanded. “What is your business here?”
Christopher looked the man in the eye. “We were looking for something to eat as we passed through town,” he said. “We are heading north, into Galloway, to visit our mother’s kin. We only wish to eat and then we shall be gone.”
The knight’s gaze lingered on them, trying to determine if they were telling the truth. “Who was that other man you were talking to? The one that went away?
”
“One of our comrades. He means you no harm, I assure you. None of us do.”
The Durham knight studied Christopher and David. They were very big knights, well-armed and on seasoned horses. It was clear they had seen a battle or two in their time. He was suspicious.
“Who do you serve?” he asked.
“Sir Philip de Lohr of Lohrham Forest,” Christopher replied. “In Derbyshire. He is my uncle, in fact. We do not serve anyone so grand as the Bishop of Durham.”
The knight’s eyes narrowed. “How would you know that?”
Christopher gestured to the man’s tunic. “Everyone knows that,” he said. “His standards are very recognizable.”
The knight looked at his tunic purely out of reflex when Christopher pointed. Then, he looked at his men, the other three knights at his side, as if to read their minds. Did they believe the strange knights? Did they not? The Durham knights had noticed the two big warriors near the bakers, threatened by the size and appearance of them. They didn’t like strange knights, especially given what had just happened at Bowes Castle. Because of that, all of Durham was on edge. The knight with the dirty beard leaned forward on his saddle.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
Christopher replied. “Not long.”
“How did you come?”
“North from Richmond.”
“Then you saw what happened at Bowes. It is right along the road you traveled.”
Christopher nodded. “I saw the siege,” he said. “It was big and nasty.”
That made him more interesting to talk to as far as the Durham knights were concerned. “Did you see who it was?” the bearded man asked anxiously.
Christopher nodded. “De Royans,” he said. “Have you heard of him?”
The four Durham knights all expressed various degrees of surprise. “De Royans?” the knight with the dirty beard hissed. “The High Sheriff of Yorkshire? Are you for certain?’
“I could see his banners.”
“What is he doing so far north?”
Fearsome Brides Page 22