Seductive Secrets (Secrets of the Heart Series Book 2)

by Elizabeth Rose

  “I will return later, so go ahead without me. I’m going to stay here for a while and pay my respects to Imanie.” She fussed with her hair.

  Conrad didn’t want to argue with Willow since his sister was there. She was already so upset she was crying. It was surely from the fact that Willow forced her to ride unescorted and without a wimple. The poor girl was probably also frightened by the threatening look of these overgrown brambles.

  “Toby, you and Branton escort Lady Hazel back to the castle. I will return with Lady Willow momentarily.”

  “Aye, my lord,” answered Toby with a slight bow.

  “Be sure to find a handmaid to tend to my sister’s needs. And get her some wine to calm her nerves. She is very upset by this outing.”

  “We’ll see to your sister,” Branton assured him.

  The three of them exited the garden, leaving Willow and Conrad alone.

  “Why don’t you go with them?” asked Willow in a calm manner. “I told you before, I don’t need an escort or a guardian. There is no need for you to stay here with me.”

  “The way I see it, you need more than just an escort. What you need, Lady Willow, is a good turn over my knee and a swift slap of my hand against your bottom,” growled Conrad. “What were you thinking to bring my sister here? You are very disrespectful.”

  “On the contrary, Sir Conrad, I’m being very respectful, but you can’t see it. I came here not only to pay my respects to a dead woman, but I’ve also decided to help your sister. Now, why don’t you sit down and stop lurking over my shoulder and brooding like a bear?”

  “Lurking? Brooding?” He shook his head. He didn’t lurk. Did he? And as far as he knew bears didn’t brood. Was she saying she thought he was big and gruff like a bear? It made him wonder. She had him so shaken by her choice of words that he almost forgot he was in the midst of scolding her. “My sister doesn’t need your kind of help.”

  One dark, thin brow raised in surprise. “Really? And what kind of help might you be referring to?”

  Conrad sat down next to her on the swing. The ropes creaked under his weight, making him feel heavy. Like a bear. He tested a rope with his hand and then used his feet to give the swing a slight push.

  “Oh,” exclaimed Willow, falling back and into his arms. It wasn’t a planned action, but he didn’t mind the outcome. She looked up at him, and all angry thoughts left his head. He found himself lost in her big, brown eyes. Willow Douglas had been a cute girl in her childhood, but now she was a raving beauty. Why did she have to be so pretty? It made it hard to discipline her the way her father wanted. When Conrad was near her, nothing else seemed to matter.

  “Would you slap me if I kissed you again?” he asked, taking a chance but being cautious at the same time. Mayhap, if he asked her permission, she wouldn’t be as eager to hit him like before.

  “I might,” she said, looking at his mouth. She wasn’t pulling away, so he took that as a sign to continue.

  “I’m willing to risk it,” he mumbled, closing his eyes partially and lowering his mouth to hers. She seemed to welcome the kiss they shared. He welcomed it and craved more. The warmth from her body so close to his felt alluring. He lifted his hand and gently reached out to caress her shoulder. The contact between them had his senses reeling. Was this the same little girl he once taunted by pulling her braid and hiding frogs in her bed just to make her scream? Now the only screaming he wanted from her was to hear her crying out in ecstasy as he made sweet love to her and brought her to completion.

  His head filled with fantasies and all of them involved the two of them in intimate positions. He couldn’t think straight when he was around her. The whole damned thing almost seemed magical sitting on a swing with her in a secret garden. It was almost as if they were having a tryst, and damn if that didn’t excite him. When she didn’t push him away, he swept in for another kiss, this time reaching up with both hands caressing her shoulders with more intent.

  “Mmmm,” she said when he pulled away slightly, breaking the connection of their lips. With her eyes closed and her head tilted backward, it exposed her long, smooth neck. She also had a smile on her face – something he didn’t expect to see. God’s eyes, she was alluring. It wasn’t just her beauty that intrigued him. Her spunk and determination were unlike any noblewoman he’d ever met. He liked that.

  “Little Willow is all grown up,” he whispered, reaching up to run his fingers against her cheek. He dipped down and kissed her on the neck next, running his hand through her loose tresses. But when his leather wristband snagged in her hair, he tried to get it free, ending up tugging at it in the process.

  “Ow!” she said, springing up and pulling away. A few strands of hair clung to his wristband as they snapped by her abrupt movement. She pushed up from the swing. The smile and serene look she’d had on her face moments ago was gone. In its place was a frown and eyes that bore fire. “Conrad the Cur, I can’t believe you’re back to pulling my hair again just like you did when I was eight!”

  He should have anticipated the slap that followed.

  “God’s eyes, I didn’t do it on purpose.” He jumped up to face her, but she was already halfway to her horse. “Where are you going?” he called out to her back as she picked up her skirts and stormed across the garden. “I thought you wanted to stay here to pay your respects to Imanie.” Conrad rushed after her.

  “I’m not the one who needs to show respect, Sir Conrad.” With little effort, she pulled herself up into the saddle. “You wouldn’t know how to treat a lady if your life depended on it.”

  With a turn of her horse, she kicked her heels into the animal’s side and left him standing alone in the garden.

  “Bid the devil, will this ever get any easier?” he grumbled as he mounted his horse. When Conrad made the deal with Rook to watch over Willow, he had no idea he’d be wasting so much time chasing after her.

  Willow spent most of the day in the lists watching the noblemen who had come for the festival as they practiced for the competitions that would start on the morrow. She had hoped to spend time with Hazel, but the girl seemed to be sick and wanted to stay in bed the entire day. Willow wasn’t about to stay locked in her room behind closed doors. That was the last place she wanted to be with so many noblemen roaming the castle. But every time she stepped foot outside of her room, Conrad was following her around like her shadow.

  Earlier, when she left to visit the garderobe and to warm up her hands by the fire in the great hall, Conrad was there at her side or lurking over her shoulder. Even when she thought she’d managed to lose him when she ducked behind the mews earlier, she looked up to see him watching her from across the courtyard. She felt like a mouse being chased by a cat. She couldn’t make a move without him knowing about it.

  She contemplated sneaking away, but to do that she would have to avoid all the activities and she didn’t want to miss anything. Willow had been waiting for this festival since last year and was not going to let Conrad ruin it for her. In the end, she decided her only option was to go places where Conrad could see her. As much as she didn’t like the thought, at least she would be able to mingle with the other nobles.

  Conrad’s turn to practice the swordfight came up, and she oddly found herself mesmerized watching him.

  He was no longer the lanky, awkward boy she once knew. Back then, he could barely hold a sword let alone swing it without taking out his eye. But now he effortlessly spun the blade around in one hand and brought it back to point at his opponent with accurate precision. Being drawn in, she watched as he challenged Lord Beaufort who was an excellent swordsman. Excitement grew in her belly. Part of her wanted to see him drop his sword. But after kissing him again, part of her secretly hoped he would have the better hand against the earl. “Go,” she said, urging Conrad forward when Beaufort almost managed to unarm him.

  “Quite skilled with the sword, isn’t he?”

  Startled, Willow looked up, not even realizing Sir Bedivere leaned on the rail of t
he lists next to her.

  “I’ve seen better,” she said, looking down and fingering her bracelet, not wanting to seem smitten with Conrad.

  “You have?” That seemed to amuse Bedivere for some reason. “Well then, I’d like to know who you think is a better swordsman than your guardian.”

  “My guardian?” She wasn’t sure at first if he meant Conrad or Beaufort since they were both serving as her guardian at the moment.

  “He’s not bad for his age. Not bad at all.”

  She looked back at the dueling men, realizing Bedivere thought she was supporting the earl. “Oh, the earl. Of course, not. No one is better.”

  “If you think so, then you haven’t seen me with my sword in my hand.” He reached out and covered her hand with his in a light squeeze. “Perhaps we can meet somewhere in private a little later? Your chamber?”

  Her eyes shot downward. She didn’t like him touching her. It didn’t feel the same as when Conrad did it. When Conrad touched her, she welcomed it because it made her feel all tingly inside. When Sir Bedivere did it, it felt . . . dirty. This man wanted only one thing from her, and it was something she wasn’t willing to give.

  “How dare you suggest such a thing,” she spat, pulling her hand away from him.

  “All right, my chamber then. Or perhaps a tryst behind the barn is more to your liking?”

  “Sir Bedivere, I’m willing to bet you will be very skilled with your sword in your hand just like you said. Only you will be holding your own sword all alone tonight because I wouldn’t go anywhere with you.” She purposely stepped down hard on his foot causing him to flinch and pull his hand off the rail.

  Willow picked up her skirts and made her way through the lists with Sir Bedivere following her like a dog in heat. Looking over her shoulder at him, she wasn’t watching where she was going and ran right into someone.

  “Going somewhere, Lady Willow?” It was Conrad. He must have seen her leaving the lists and bee-lined it over to her. He breathed heavily from his practice, or perhaps from running over to head her off before she went. His sword was still clutched in his hand. Perspiration beaded his brow. She looked over her shoulder, and Sir Bedivere was smiling at her.

  “Lochwood, I was just going for a walk with Lady Willow if you’ll excuse us,” said Bedivere.

  He reached for Willow, but she quickly clasped her fingers around Conrad’s forearm. “I’d like you to take me back to my chamber now, Sir Conrad.”

  “You would?” Conrad sounded surprised.

  “Lochwood, get back on the field or the match will go to me,” shouted Lord Beaufort.

  “You’d better go,” said Bedivere. “I can escort Lady Willow back to her bedchamber. After all, you can’t disappoint the earl.”

  “Nay, she’s my responsibility. I’ll take her.” Conrad’s words caused Willow to draw a breath of relief. “You take my place on the practice field, Bedivere.”

  “Aye,” said Willow. “Perhaps, Sir Bedivere, you can get in some practice, holding your sword after all.”

  Bedivere gave her a disgruntled look and ducked under the lists, making his way to spar with the earl.

  Conrad escorted Willow through the courtyard, and then up the stairs to her chamber.

  “I’m surprised you wanted my protection from Bedivere when you so blatantly slapped me again earlier.”

  “Me? Oh, that,” she said, sounding as if she’d almost forgotten all about it.

  “What happened between you and Bedivere that had you so spooked?” He’d seen Willow in action. She wasn’t one to shy away from any man. If she was running from Bedivere and straight into his arms, there was a reason.

  “Nothing happened.” She flashed a smile.

  “You were playing with fire again, weren’t you, Willow? If you keep that up, eventually you will get burned.”

  “For your information, I was doing nothing of the sort. I was merely watching you practice when Lord Bedivere put his hand over mine and made a crude suggestion.”

  “What?” He stopped in his tracks, a vein throbbing in his neck. “Tell me what he said and I’ll have his head, I swear I will.”

  “Conrad, calm down. Nothing happened. That is all that matters.”

  “Nay! What matters is that men are lusting after you, and I don’t like it.”

  “Lusting?” She blinked her eyes, her lashes like the wings of butterflies as they flitted up and down. Even that was graceful about her. “Is that what you think?”

  “It’s what I know. Every man here only wants one thing from you, Willow. And with the way you lead them on, you are going to get yourself into trouble.”

  Her hand slipped from his arm, and her face became stone-like. “Is that why you kissed me? Do you lust after me as well?”

  “Nay, that’s different,” he tried to explain, although it wasn’t looking good for him.

  “How is it different? I don’t see it as being anything other than lust just like you are accusing the other men of doing. You are no better than them.”

  She reached for the door, but Conrad stopped her with his hand on hers. “Willow, I might lust for you, I’m not going to lie. You are a beautiful woman, and no man in his right mind wouldn’t want you. But I’m not like the others.”

  “Like the others?”

  “They only want to take you to bed. They don’t care about you the way I do.”

  “You only care about me because my father has made a deal with you.”

  “Nay that’s not true. I’ve known you for a long time, and these men haven’t. Yes, I’ve sworn to protect you, but the other men are different.”

  “I don’t see it.”

  “Open your eyes, Willow. They want you for pleasure only, not to marry.”

  Her face turned upward, and her eyes became glassy. He could tell that his careless choice of words cut her deeply.

  “What do you mean that no one would want to marry me? What are you saying? That I’m not good enough for any man to want as his wife?”

  “Nay, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “That’s what you said.”

  “I was only trying to stress the fact that . . . I mean that . . .”

  “What? Spit it out, Sir Conrad, or have your lies and unkind words lodged in your throat and threatened to choke you like I want to do to you right now?” She turned and opened the door. He couldn’t let her leave this way. Without thinking, he blurted out, “I want to marry you, Willow.”

  She stopped and turned around and cocked her head.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said – I’m competing in the tournament.”

  “Nay, that’s not what you said.” She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “You said you want to marry me. Is that true?”

  Conrad swallowed the lump in his throat. His mouth felt so dry he didn’t think he could speak if he tried. He had joined the competition just to bide time until Lord Rook returned. He figured if he won and chose her for his wife, he could manage to keep her away from the other men and, at the same time, stall until her father’s arrival. He hadn’t really considered her the type of wife he had hoped to find. But after that last kiss, he couldn’t see himself with anyone else but her.

  “Willow, I . . .”

  “Never mind,” she spat. “I know you think of me as naught but a loose woman since I wear my hair unbraided.”

  He shook his head in surprise. “Why would you say that?”

  “That’s what Hazel told me. She also said you think women who talk to men before spoken to are not ladylike at all. Don’t try to pretend you want to marry me because I know what you really think of me.”

  “But I do . . . want to marry you.” There, he said it, and it felt right.

  “Forget it,” she said.

  “What did you say?” He couldn’t have heard her right. Shouldn’t she be thrilled that someone wanted to marry her? After all, that is why she put herself up as a prize bride for the competition.

  “I said, f
orget it. I have been granted permission by the late king to agree to whomever I am to marry. And I’ll tell you right now, Conrad the Cur, I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth.” She disappeared into the room and slammed the door in Conrad’s face.

  “My lord! There you are.” Toby hurried down the corridor to join him. “I’ve been looking for you. The practice for the joust is about to begin. Why aren’t you out on the field? I have your horse, as well as the lances prepared.”

  “I’m not going,” he said, turning and heading down the passageway in a huff. His encounter with Willow didn’t go at all as planned.

  “Not going?” Toby followed behind him. “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve had enough jousting today and I’m finished.”

  “You have? When? I didn’t see you on the tiltyard.”

  Conrad stopped so quickly that Toby knocked into him from behind. “I didn’t joust on the tiltyard, Squire.”

  “Then where did you joust?”

  “Put it this way. Never joust with a beautiful woman with a mind of her own who twists your words into something they’re not because she will always be triumphant in the end.”

  Chapter 8

  “Hazel, you have barely stepped foot out of this chamber in the last two days,” chided Willow. “You can’t stay hidden away in here feeling sorry for yourself forever.”

  “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.” Hazel clung to the bedpost like a lifeline and stared at the floor.

  “Then what do you call it?” Willow dressed for supper, choosing a burgundy gown made of velvet. There were ruffles of lace on the bodice and at the bottom of the long tippets as well. Her handmaid, Clara, helped her. But most of the time, Willow dismissed the woman, not wanting a handmaid at all. The woman only seemed to get in her way. She and her cousins had always helped each other. None of them felt they needed a personal servant.