Lost Touch Series

by Amy Tolnitch

  Perfection that turned out to be false illusion.

  Cain set his jaw.

  There was no going back.

  “I look forward to the end of this as well, my lady.”

  By the time Amice escaped to her chamber, her head ached and her stomach felt as if someone were twisting it in his fist. It was bad enough to be close to Cain, but to endure Morganna’s obvious hostility and Agatha’s scrutiny as well was too much.

  She retrieved a ewer of wine and a cup, then walked over to the window seat. The shutters opened to show the black sea below. It swirled endlessly, a dark, deep abyss lit by splashes of moonlight. A breeze lifted her hair and brushed her face with warm, salty, moist air. Amice closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  She heard a sound behind her and turned. Laila gazed at her with compassion. “Are you all right, te’ sorthenel”

  Her heart-friend. It was the finest name anyone had ever called her. “Ah, Laila, ‘tis so hard.” Amice sat on the stone seat and poured some wine into the cup.

  Laila sat next to her. “Amice, I believe the Earl of Hawksdown still has feelings for you.”

  Feelings. Amice took a sip of wine. A bleak sadness settled into her chest.

  Laila took her hand. “The way he looks at you.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Such hunger, such intensity. I can feel the force of it in the air.”

  “Lust.”

  “More than lust.”

  A part of her wanted to believe Laila, but there lay the path to new torment. She would not allow herself to be so poorly used again. “Nay.”

  Laila gazed intently at her, then rose and patted Amice on the shoulder. “I am to bed. Do you wish me to help you with your bliaut?”

  She forced a smile to her face. “Nay. Goodnight, Laila. Dream well.”

  As Laila walked toward the next chamber, she turned and gave Amice an encouraging look. “Do not worry, my lady. All will be as it should.”

  Amice nodded. After Laila left, she stripped off her bliaut and undertunic and stood at the window in her chemise, gazing down at the rocky beach and watching the moonglow dance on the waves. How she wished she could just fly into the sky, free as a falcon, living just to live, unhindered by past pain and impossible longing.

  She stared down at the beach, gradually realizing what she was looking at. With a gasp, she took half a step back. Cain strode out of the waves, beautifully naked, his sleek contours bathed in pale light. The sight hit her like a dagger to the chest. She suddenly remembered every inch of his body, remembered gliding her fingertips over his warm skin, remembered how perfectly he loved her as if it all had happened but a moment ago.

  A woman emerged from the shadows and threw her arms around Cain. Amice sucked in a breath. Even from the distance, she recognized the woman. Morganna. Cain’s “cousin,” who sought to ease his tension. Morganna, who reminded Amice of a pretty doll, all creamy skin, golden hair and large, round blue eyes.

  She slammed the shutters closed and took a big gulp of wine. She should be thankful, she told herself. It was a reminder to her not to weaken.

  A tear leaked from her eye and the wall around her heart split open. She gulped in air, willing her emotions back behind her shields. But she felt as if Cain had sliced open her chest and no matter how hard she tried to keep them in, her long-buried feelings bled out of the fissure. Fool. I am naught but a fool.

  “Please, dear Lord, help me to finish my task quickly. Let me send this ghost away at once so that I might depart. Please help me to be strong. Help me, Lord.”

  Amice dropped to the floor and clamped her hand against her mouth to stifle her sobs.

  “Morganna, let loose.” Cain unwound his cousin’s arms from his shoulders and stepped back, looking for his clothes.

  Morganna pouted. “Oh, Cain, do not be so serious.”

  “There is nothing wrong with being serious. Someone needs to be.”

  She ran a fingertip down the side of his forehead. “But you seem so tense, so frustrated. I can relieve that, bring a smile to your face.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I am fine.” Cain drew on his braies and began walking back toward the castle. He heard a sputtering behind him but he did not pause. Silly woman.

  “Cain, wait.”

  Without turning, he called back, “Come, Morganna.”

  Her response was a loud huff of irritation.

  Cain gritted his teeth. He was in sore need of release, but bedding Morganna did not appeal. She was easy enough on the eye, but he saw calculation in her gaze. Despite his inability to swim, he would rather immerse himself in the cool sea than risk involvement with her.

  Not that it would help anyway. The only true source of release for him lay abed in the rose chamber, no doubt praying she would be able to leave without delay.

  He stalked in through the small sea gate and locked it tight after making sure a sullen Morganna came inside. “Go to bed.”

  She took a step toward him. “Are you sure you do not desire company?”

  He frowned at her. “You should value yourself more highly, Morganna.”

  “Oh, but I do.” She sent him a siren’s smile.

  “Goodnight.”

  Her mouth drew down in a scowl. “’Tis her fault.”

  “Who?”

  She scoffed. “Amice de Monceaux.”

  He straightened his shoulders. “Nay.”

  “Aye, it is. You still want that amazon. I can scarcely believe it.”

  “You do not know what you are talking about.”

  Morganna gave him a sly smile. “Oh, but I do. I have ears. And I can see it in your eyes.”

  “You are imagining things. Get to your bed.”

  With a final mocking look, Morganna turned and flounced away.

  He stood and stared across the bailey toward the tower containing the rose chamber. The strength of his longing astounded him. It was as if the years vanished in the span of a heartbeat, the countless times he admonished himself to forget Amice de Monceaux meaningless.

  He should not be surprised. Amice had always had the ability to slice through to his heart while safeguarding her own.

  But he had accepted that he could not satisfy his goddess long ago.

  It was bad enough to witness betrayal by a woman for whom he held no affection.

  Amice’s betrayal would destroy him completely.

  Chapter 3

  After verifying nothing appeared close to exploding, Piers slipped into Gifford’s workroom. His uncle was busily pounding on something with a heavy metal mallet. When he spotted Piers, he set down the mallet and reached for a nearby jug to take a drink.

  Piers looked down at Gifford’s project. “What are you doing?”

  “Had an idea to help that dull nephew of mine.”

  “Not sure how a pink rock is going to make Cain start to live again.”

  Gifford snorted. “Not just a rock. I am going to use it to create a special elixir.” He winked and took another drink.

  “You are sotted.”

  “Nay. I am never sotted.”

  Incredibly, Piers had to admit Gifford was right. His uncle soaked up drink like an endless trencher. “What is it?”

  “Rose quartz. Once I distill it down, we can add it to Cain’s wine.”

  “And?”

  Gifford shrugged. “It will aid him to open his heart.”

  Piers started laughing. “You jest. A pink rock can achieve that kind of miracle?”

  “Mayhap not alone.” Gifford chuckled. “Have you another idea?”

  “Nay.” Piers scowled. “Damn Cain and his rigid sense of duty. He should have taken the way out Luce’s father offered.”

  “And Ismena, the domineering bitch, should never have betrothed Cain to a woman like Luce. Ismena was never one to consider anything but her own aspirations.” Gifford picked up the mallet and smacked it down upon the quartz, breaking the stone into smaller pieces. “But ‘tis all in the past.”

  Piers grabbed
the jug and took a swallow of ale. “What do you think of the Lady Amice?”

  As Gifford placed the pieces of crystal into a pot hanging over the fire, he said, “She has promise. I must admit, I am most intrigued by this,” he paused and quickly looked around the chamber, “vocation of hers. Remarkable talent, that.”

  “Aye. And I think there is much more to what happened between her and Cain than we know.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Piers grinned. “I believe I shall see if I can find out the story.”

  “You do that. With a bit of luck, perhaps we can stir something up there. She is a beauty.”

  Piers left the workroom whistling. They needed something to breach his brother’s complete devotion to training and managing his estates. He had a strong feeling that Lady Amice de Monceaux was just the weapon they needed.

  Amice gaped at the old woman in surprise. She and Laila had been all over the castle asking questions about the elusive ghost of Falcon’s Craig and had come up with nothing. Until now. “Malina, are you sure?”

  Malina stopped kneading bread and nodded toward Amice. “Aye, I heard the story when I was but a wee one.”

  Amice glanced at Laila with excitement. “Tell us what you remember.”

  “Well, let me think.” Malina began kneading again, the rhythmic motions of her gnarled hands seeming to aid her thoughts. “’Twas said she threw herself from atop the east tower, straight over the cliff down to the beach.”

  “Why?”

  “That I do not know.” Malina frowned and paused her kneading. “I seem to remember something about her heart having been broken, but naught more.”

  “Who was she?”

  Malina shook her head. “’Tis all I remember, my lady. I am sorry.”

  Amice put her hand on the old woman’s shoulder. “Nay, do not be sorry. You have been very helpful.”

  She gave Amice a gap-toothed smile. “Never seen her, meself, but I know she’s caused the lord a bushel of trouble.”

  “Aye. Not for much longer.”

  Malina nodded and returned to her kneading.

  Laila laid a hand on Amice’s arm. “Come. We must prepare.”

  “Aye. Malina?”

  “My lady?”

  “Where can I obtain a bath?”

  The old woman grinned. “The bathhouse, most likely.”

  “Bathhouse?”

  “Aye, in the garden. Ask one of the grooms to build up the fire for you and fill the tub. The water is drawn from the pond. One of the young lord’s ideas.”

  Amice was astonished. She had heard of such a structure, but never imagined finding one at Falcon’s Craig. “Thank you, Malina.”

  As they left the kitchen and emerged into the bailey, Amice hailed a passing groom and made her request.

  He bobbed his head and turned to go toward the garden.

  Like a biting wind, a shaft of apprehension slid down her spine as she followed Laila up to her chamber. “Laila, something feels different this time.”

  “Aye.” Laila frowned as she carefully sorted through cloth bags of herbs. Briefly, she closed her hand around their dreaming stones and shut her eyes.

  “You feel it too?”

  “There are powerful emotions in this place. Strong tattipani.”

  “Spirits? You sense more than one.”

  “Aye, but I know not who it is, or even if it is man or woman. Just a shadowy sense of another.”

  Amice swallowed. “Evil?”

  Laila shook her head. “Nay, but troubled certainly.”

  Forcing back her unease, Amice nodded. “They all are. But soon, at least Falcon’s Craig shall be free of roaming spirits, and we can return home.”

  Laila opened her eyes and stared at Amice. “You are anxious to depart?”

  Her heart lurched. “The sooner I leave here, the happier I shall be.”

  “But, the Earl of Hawksdown, I thought perhaps—”

  “Nay! He dallies with Morganna.”

  Laila’s eyes grew huge in her face. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye.” She twisted her lips in a bitter smile. “I saw them myself last eve on the beach.”

  “Oh.” Laila walked over and gave her a hug. “I am sorry, chav.”

  Amice blinked back a tear. “As you said, all shall be as it should.”

  Laila gave her a mischievous grin. “Well, you do have The MacKeir.”

  “Oh, Lord. I had almost managed to put him from my mind.” Shaking her head, Amice could not help but laugh. “I can only hope Rand has dissuaded him from claiming me.”

  “Perhaps.” Laila giggled. “He does appear rather devoted though.”

  “Aye, like an overgrown puppy.” Amice turned to go, still chuckling at the memory of Lugh MacKeir. She could not dislike the man. In fact, he was somewhat endearing, though outrageous. As she made her way down the steps and across the bailey to the bathhouse, she briefly considered Lugh as a prospective husband. He made no secret of his adoration and he was a handsome man. He made her laugh, even without trying.

  She sighed. Maybe it was selfish, certainly the dream of a young girl, but she wanted to love her husband. Pray Rand had enough care for her not to agree to The MacKeir’s request.

  Across the bailey, she spotted Cain riding in under the gatehouse and increased her pace. After last night, she had carefully reconstructed her shields, painstakingly fortified herself. She was safe again.

  But Cain was the last person she wished to see at the moment. With luck, she and Laila could finish tonight and leave on the morrow. Amice ignored a twinge of regret.

  It was for the best. She would return to Wareham and never see Cain Veuxfort again.

  Cain tossed his mount’s reins to one of the grooms and paced across the bailey, mentally listing the supplies needed in Hazelstone. Several of the villagers’ huts required repairs, and Ranaulf needed a new team of oxen to pull his plough.

  As he neared the great hall, he heard his sister’s voice and stopped. Her tone told him some poor soul was the subject of one of Agatha’s lectures. If only he could find a mate for her, a man to soften her, but her demeanor discouraged even the bravest hearts. Thank God she preferred to live at Styrling.

  Turning, he made his way to his chamber, retrieved a change of clothes, and headed for the bathhouse. Perhaps an hour’s soak would clear his mind and allow him to focus on things of importance. Making sure the planting proceeded on schedule. Seeing to his villeins’ welfare. Training his men. Doing his duty. Carrying out his responsibilities.

  Not dwelling on the blood-tingling fact that Amice was in his home.

  He flung open the door of the bathhouse and froze. Amice had her back to him, her arms raised to soap her hair. Damn. Even her back was beautiful, all lush curves and smooth skin. His breath caught in his chest and his skin prickled with heat. She looked like a glistening statue of some mythical goddess. Cain shut the door with a soft thump.

  Amice whirled around. Her eyes opened wide and her hands dropped to the water.

  He knew he should turn and leave, but God help him, he could not look away. Her full breasts seemed to float on the water, the sight holding him fast. Somewhere Cain found his voice. “I… I did not know anyone was here.”

  Amice slid deeper under the water. He sniffed, realizing the small bathhouse smelled of lavender.

  She gazed warily at him. “I shall be finished soon.”

  He stepped closer to the sunken pool and sat on a bench.

  As she crossed her arms over her chest, her expressive eyes veiled.

  His heart pounded an uneven rhythm and he felt warm. Nay, hot. The knowledge that Amice was naked, wet, and only a few feet away was making him daft. He had to be out of his mind not to run. “You like,” he tried to swallow, “lavender?”

  “Aye. ‘Tis part of our ritual.”

  “Would you like help with your hair?” As soon as he asked the question, he could not believe his words. Why not just jump into the bath and do what he reall
y desired? He was an addle-brain.

  “Nay,” Amice said quickly. “Cain, please.”

  “Please?”

  “Go.”

  He studied her and let the moments pass in silence. It was all he could do not to join her. His body was as hard as iron, swollen with aching desire. He remembered with the sharp clarity of heartache what loving Amice had been like, and held on to his control by the thinnest thread of reason. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

  She turned away. “Aye,” she whispered over her shoulder. “Leave now. Please.”

  Slowly, he stood and walked toward the door. He paused and looked back. Amice’s shoulders were rigid, but just before he opened the door, Cain saw a tremor flit across her skin. He bolted from the bathhouse.

  Amice stared at the closed door for a long time after Cain left, trying to make some sense out of what had just happened. She splayed her hands and swished them through the warm water.

  For a moment, she had thought she saw the same longing in his eyes she was sure shone from her own. But, no, it was impossible. They were back to the same thing. He desired her. She knew that. But desire was not enough. Not for her.

  Quickly, she finished washing her hair and pulled on a fresh chemise and bliaut. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to the bathhouse, half-dreading, half-hoping Cain would be waiting for her.

  Instead she found his sister, Agatha.

  Agatha sat on a bench facing the door to the bathhouse. She stared intently toward the doorway, her body tensed, her grey eyes open wide and blinking rapidly. She so closely resembled a hare, Amice would not have been surprised to see her nose twitching.

  When Agatha spotted her, she leapt up. “Lady Amice, may I speak with you?”

  Amice hesitated. Had Agatha seen Cain enter the bathhouse? Did she know what happened at Chasteney? She squared her shoulders. “How may I assist you, Lady Agatha?”

  Edging closer, Agatha lowered her eyes, then raised her chin in a firm expression Amice recognized from Cain. “I want you to teach me.”

  “Teach you? Teach you what?”