by Alexa Aston
A faint noise drew his attention. He listened to see if it would occur again—and it did. It came from the area he’d left Midnight. Skirting their campsite, Ferand moved stealthily in that direction. His vision proved better than most men’s, especially in the dark, and he saw two shadows that turned into men as he drew near. One ransacked the satchel he deliberately left attached to his horse’s saddle while the other loosened the animal. A third moved toward him.
Unsheathing his sword, Ferand moved swiftly.
***
ELIA HAD DRIFTED off, feeling safe in Ferand’s arms, but awoke and couldn’t breathe. A hand covered her nose and mouth. Struggling, she tried to sit up—only to find someone draped across her.
Someone that wasn’t Ferand.
She bucked beneath the form sprawled across her, her lungs burning as she fought for a breath. She slammed her fists against whoever pinned her down, not budging whoever it was. Growing lightheaded, she tried to bring her leg up so she could reach the baselard hidden in her boot but the effort proved too much. Her head swirled and darkness rushed up.
Then the weight lifted from her.
Elia gasped, trying to drink in the cool night air. She rolled to her side and came up on her hands and knees, wheezing, gulping for air. Noise sounded around her but she couldn’t identify it. Every thought was to force air in and out of her lungs.
A grunt. A thud. The noise stilled. Strong hands lifted her, spinning her, holding her close. She panicked, clawing then pushing the person away.
“You’re safe, my love. Calm yourself. Everything is well. Breathe.”
As she drew in a long breath, she recognized the scent.
Ferand.
Bursting into tears, Elia clutched his tunic, holding on, panic searing through her. He held her to him, gently stroking her hair. Her back. Murmuring words she couldn’t decipher, though they soothed her. Gradually, the panic receded. Her breathing slowed. She leaned back and looked up at him.
“What h-happened?”
In response, he swept her from her feet, carrying her to the tree they’d sat under earlier in the night. He lowered himself to the ground, keeping her in his lap. Her arms stayed linked around his neck, her face buried in his tunic, her cheek resting against his heart. Its steady thumping reassured her. Slowly, her body relaxed. One arm slid down his chest, her palm flat, afraid to break the contact between them.
“The two strangers returned,” he finally said. “Two others appeared with them.”
Everything sharpened in her mind. “That was why you didn’t wish to speak after we ate. After they left. You listened for them.”
“Aye. If they were nearby, I didn’t want them to glean any useful information from our conversation. Not even our names.” He brushed his lips against her hair. “I missed talking with you, though. It’s become the best part of my day.”
“Mine, as well,” she revealed. “But sitting with you was also nice.”
It had been more than nice. Elia had never felt as safe or happy as when she had sat enveloped in his arms. It made her question why she would so easily give up a man who truly seemed interested in her. Her resolve to return to Castle Questing waned more every day she spent in Ferand de Montfort’s company.
Suddenly, the panic returned. Tensing, she asked, “Where are they now? You said there were four.”
“They are gone.”
“You convinced them to leave?” She glanced out for the first time to where she’d slept and saw a dark form crumpled on the ground. Looking back at him, her heart began racing.
“They are gone from this life. Into the next.”
“You killed them,” she whispered.
“Aye. They robbed us. They would have murdered us.” His arms tightened protectively around her.
Elia thought they would have killed Ferand quickly but that they would have used her before doing so. She didn’t understand exactly what that involved but knew it would have been a nightmare.
“You saved my life. One of them . . . was on me. I . . . I . . . couldn’t breathe.”
His lips brushed against her forehead reassuringly. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
Safe . . .
Elia remembered him saying that. He’d called her my love. She hadn’t imagined that.
Did Ferand love her? More importantly—did she love him?
She began trembling as a new wave of tears unexpectedly came. His arms stayed protectively around her as she sobbed. Ferand rocked her, his tone soothing. Elia didn’t try to understand the words he spoke. She only knew she was unharmed, thanks to this man.
Rubbing her face against his soft tunic, she sighed. A plethora of feelings overwhelmed her but one shone above all the rest.
Her hands captured his face and pulled it toward hers. Their lips met, his strong and sure. Elia didn’t wait for him to kiss her.
She kissed him.
Her lips moved against his slowly, cherishing the feel of them. Her fingers pushed into his hair. She tried to ease his mouth open but he resisted. Breaking away, she stared up at him, wondering why he didn’t respond.
Ferand caught her wrists. He rotated her hands till they were face up and pressed a gentle kiss onto each palm before lowering their joined hands.
“You have suffered a fright. You don’t owe me anything. Least of all precious kisses.”
“I owe you my life!” she proclaimed. “Those men would have killed me.”
“They didn’t. I was here. I’m only sorry three of them kept me busy long enough for the fourth to put his hands upon you. I’m sorry you suffered, Elia. I wish I could have prevented that.”
She saw regret in his eyes for not having better protected her.
“You are feeling vulnerable now. I cannot take advantage of you.” He gave her a swift, dismissive kiss and withdrew. “I think it best that we head out.”
Ferand helped her from his lap. He rolled up the blanket and gathered his cloak from the ground. The fire had gone out long ago and needed no dousing.
Taking her hand, he said firmly, “Keep your eyes on me. We’ll go to Midnight and leave this place.”
He led her to the horse. Though part of her longed to observe what they left behind, she did as he asked and stared at the back of his head. When they reached the horse, he released her hand and attached the blanket and then their satchels. Elia kept her eyes on his face, though as faint streaks of pink crossed the sky, she became aware of the bodies surrounding them, the scent of blood heavy.
Ferand swung into the saddle and lifted her. He placed her in front of him and eased her against his chest.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed. “You may even fall asleep.”
She did as he asked and kept them shut as he led Midnight back to the road and, once again, they headed north toward York.
CHAPTER 10
IT ANGERED FERAND how much Elia had changed in but a few moments. All day as they rode, she remained silent. He was used to her witty observations of the passing countryside and their lighthearted banter but now she seemed like a stranger to him. Even the times they stopped for her to relieve herself, she wanted him close, within sight, fearful of any small noise that occurred.
He knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep in the woods so soon after her terrifying experience. Fortunately, their timing was good and a village appeared on the horizon when it was time to call a halt to their travels for the day.
“Would you like to stay here?” he asked.
Elia only nodded.
After seeing to Midnight, they entered the local tavern. Ferand inquired about a room for the night for him and his wife. Elia played her usual part, though she clung to him more than she had in the past.
“I only have one left for the night, my lord,” the owner shared. “’Tis the tiniest of rooms. Last one on the left once you head up the stairs.”
“We’ll take it. Could you send food up for us?”
The man frowned. “I can but as I said, the ch
amber is small. You will be cramped eating there.”
“Do it,” Ferand said, leaving no room for argument.
He took the offered key and led Elia upstairs. Unlocking the door, he understood the owner’s caution as he swung the door open and they stepped in. Elia needed to perch on the bed in order for him to shut the door for she had nowhere else to stand. Sleeping against the door tonight, Ferand would have to stretch his legs under the bed, which was pushed against a wall. At least if Elia needed him, she could reach out and grasp his hand.
Food arrived on a tray, which they placed in the center of the bed. Ferand and Elia sat on either side of it. While he ate heartily, he noticed she only picked at her food.
“You need to eat.”
She shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”
He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Elia, you need to shake off what happened.”
Fire sparked in her eyes. Ferand thought that was the first good sign he’d seen from her today.
“I thought I would die,” she hissed. “I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t reach my blade. I pushed and pounded at him and nothing made a difference.”
Ferand stroked her knuckles with his thumb, guilt flooding him.
“’Tis my fault. I apologize.”
Immediately, her shoulders drooped as the fire was banked. “Nay, you went up against four thieves, Ferand. You saved me. You saved both of us.”
“I made a mistake,” he said flatly, deciding to come clean with her. “I waited for you to fall asleep and stood guard for hours. When I heard a noise and suspected they’d finally returned, I should have awakened you before leaving to deal with them. If I’d warned you, you wouldn’t have been left defenseless. You could’ve had your baselard in hand and been prepared for their attack. My mistake was costly. I beg your forgiveness.”
He pulled his hand from hers and lowered his eyes, unable to look at her. He’d berated himself all day for his error, especially when he saw how affected Elia had been.
“I would never blame you,” she said softly.
He nodded brusquely and focused on finishing the meal before them. She finally ate something but not enough to please him. Removing the tray, he placed it outside their door.
Feeling the need to think and stretch his legs, he stood.
“I won’t be long. Lock the door behind me.”
Ferand went downstairs. No customers sat in the tavern. The owner swept the floor.
“Would you like a cup of ale, my lord?”
“Aye.”
The man fetched it and Ferand sipped at the overly strong brew. Not wanting a foggy head, he set it aside after a moment. He wondered what he could do to restore Elia’s confidence in herself. He paced in circles about the room.
No answer came.
Finally, he returned to their miniscule chamber. Elia lay in the bed, facing away from him. A candle still burned. He hadn’t the heart to blow it out, knowing she might awaken and be fearful. She’d gotten little sleep the previous night, while he’d had none. Closing the door, Ferand slumped against it, wishing he could change things.
***
ELIA HEARD FERAND returning and flipped to her side. She didn’t want him to see her tears. It baffled her how she went from being confident only yesterday to struggling to maintain her composure today. She hadn’t wanted to be out of Ferand’s eyesight since the attack. Even now, having him gone for only a few minutes had her nervous and breathless and in tears. They fell silently down her cheeks.
She wondered if it would have made a difference if he’d awakened her last night. Having her blade in hand when that vile stranger touched her might have altered the outcome. Of course, Ferand hadn’t known so many would come back. He’d thought he would dispense of them quickly. Being a man, he probably would not have even told her they’d returned.
Elia’s eyelids drooped. She could feel herself sinking into sleep and fought it, not wanting to fall into darkness.
She heard a scream from far away as she pulled herself from the blackness. Her body shivered uncontrollably. The scream halted and Elia realized two things—that it came from her and that someone had stopped it. She realized Ferand’s mouth pressed against hers. She was grateful he hadn’t silenced her with his hand as her assailant did last night.
It lifted and he whispered, “You had a nightmare. It’s gone now. You’re awake and well. No one is here but the two of us.”
Hot tears poured down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“No need. You had a scare last night. It takes time to recover from something so frightening.” He stroked her hair and then swiped his thumbs across her face, wiping the tears away.
She listened and heard nothing stirring. “At least I did not awaken others.”
He chuckled. “This chamber is so small, I was able to quiet you before you shrieked loud enough to wake the dead.”
Elia smiled for the first time since the attack. “I must thank you.” She shivered again, a deep cold blanketing her.
Ferand ran his hands up and down her arms to warm her but her trembling only worsened.
“Hold me,” she begged.
He climbed into the bed and drew her into his chest. She nestled her cheek against where his heart beat strongly.
As he stroked her back, Ferand said, “You will overcome your fears, Elia. You are a strong, resilient woman. You are a de Wolfe—and de Wolfes never back down. Be proud of your heritage. Your blood runs brave.”
His words sparked something within her. Elia had never been a victim—and didn’t intend to remain one. The men who’d wanted to hurt her were gone. She would never face them again. And if others came in the future, she would be ready for them. Ferand was right. She was a de Wolfe. De Wolfes were bold. Courageous. De Wolfes went after what they desired and took it, showing no weakness. Her resolve quickened. Confidence brimmed within her. Ferand believed in her. She believed in herself.
And she believed in them. Together.
Elia decided to pursue what her heart had been telling her all along.
“I want you, Ferand. Now.”
She bunched his tunic in one hand and yanked him to her. His mouth crashed against hers. Immediately, their tongues went to war, each trying to dominate the other in a game as old as Adam and Eve. Elia’s body heated, desire pouring through her. Her hands gripped Ferand’s shoulders, the nails digging in, marking him as hers.
The quivering subsided, only to be replaced by a strong yearning that raged through her. Her bones turned to liquid as she clung to Ferand. His kiss strengthened her. Renewed her.
His mouth ripped from hers. He panted, drawing in quick, shallow breaths. She did the same. The candle burned low but she could make out the desire flickering in his eyes.
Reaching up, she clutched the fabric of his tunic again, trying to draw him back to her. He held fast, resisting her.
“I want you,” she repeated.
A ghost of a smile touched his sensual lips. “I know. I feel the same.” He paused, hunger for her plainly written on his face. “But I’ll not spill your virgin blood, Elia. I am your escort, not your defiler. You will arrive at Castle Questing with your maidenhood intact. ’Twill be for your husband to take that. It’s his right—not mine.”
“You are an honorable man, Ferand,” she choked out.
After a long moment of staring deeply into her eyes, he responded, “Mayhap not as much as you think,” and gave her a wolfish smile.
The teasing words caused her to shiver. Their eyes locked on one another’s, passion smoldering between them.
“I’ll not take your maidenhead, Elia, but I will taste you.”
His mouth moved to one breast while his hand cupped the other. Suddenly, new sensations jolted her as his teeth teased her nipple through her kirtle and his fingers spread and teased the other. She began twisting beneath him as he hovered above her, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body heated, her fingers entangling in his hair, pressing him closer
as he tongued her breast through the thin cloth.
Ferand lifted his head. Elia opened her mouth to protest. Then he pushed her kirtle high and his mouth descended on her breast once more, no barrier between them now. He nipped and teased and laved it till she nearly went mad, only to turn his attention to the other, repeating his actions. She mewled softly, rising to meet him, feeling her breasts swell at his lingering touch.
Then his tongue created a path of fire as it dragged down her body, to her belly, even lower. A fierce pounding between her legs demanded his attention and Ferand understood its silent call. His fingers glided along the slit of her sex, toying with her, before he pushed one inside her. Elia gasped, not knowing this was something a man did with a woman, but her body understood what she didn’t and responded to his touch.
A second finger joined the first, pushing in and out in a rhythm that her body joined in.
“You’re juices flow for me, Elia,” Ferand said huskily.
His thumb began stroking a place that cried out for his touch. Her breath quickened as he circled it, causing a fluttering inside, the likes of which she’d never known. As he rubbed it, a pressure began building inside her and her hips continued to move.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Meet me. Go with me. Feel it.”
Oh, she felt it. A tidal wave of epic proportion rose and then crashed, bringing wave after dizzying wave of pleasure. Elia’s fingers dug into the bedclothes as she rode the wave as it crested and fell, rising over and over, flooding through her. A cry escaped her lips and suddenly Ferand was there, his fingers still working their magic as he kissed her senseless.
The pleasure finally ebbed, leaving Elia exhausted. Ferand’s lips left hers and she was so exhausted, she couldn’t protest.
“Now for my taste,” he said.
His words confused her—but not for long.
He slid down her body and, this time, Elia felt his mouth on her. She pushed up on her elbows.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her heart pounding.
“Making us both very happy, I hope,” he replied.
Ferand grasped her ankles with his strong fingers and pushed her feet along the bed till they rested next to her hips. Then his lips returned to where his fingers had played so artfully, his tongue repeating the same actions. The wonderful sensations built inside Elia again as she whimpered softly.