Unexpected Pleasures

by Mary Wine

  Of course, that was not her lot, and the Church would tell her not to argue with God for what He had given her.

  Well, she wanted to do much more than argue; she wanted to rail against the injustice of her life.

  But most of all, she wanted to be worthy of Synclair, and she cried with the knowledge that she could never clean away enough of the sin clinging to her body to ever be good enough for him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Attending court left little time for sleep. Justina awoke when the horizon was turning dusty rose. Her maids were blurry eyed and rubbed the sleep away from their eyes when they thought she wasn’t watching. Anyone who drew their pay from the Viscount Biddeford earned every silver penny, and the slump of both girls’ shoulders confirmed that they were enduring the man’s harsh demands.

  A hunting dress was pressed and ready for her today. No doubt the maids had spent several hours ironing the dress and polishing her shoes for the morning hunt. Even the hat had its feathers steamed and curled and the wool newly brushed free of every speck of dirt. Like everything at court, hunting was yet another time to observe and be observed. Her dress must be perfect down to the smallest details.

  How she loathed it. Putting on a pretty dress was fun so long as it was not another chore.

  Justina stepped into hose and shoes once again, only this time the shoes were more practical, lacking the high heels. They were tied with sturdy leather, and her garters were wool instead of silk. The dress was much more comfortable. Instead of a slip set with stiff hoops, there was only an underskirt of soft wool to keep her legs warm. The skirt was hemmed just above her toes, and it lacked the pull on her back of the court gown she had endured the day before. Today she wore a doublet buttoned to her neck and a more loosely fit set of stays. There were no pearls to worry about snagging, and the hat the maids brought forward was felted wool and, beside the feathers, only a ribbon to enhance it.

  She liked the dress, liked it full well.

  Yes, the time in the borderland had certainly left its mark upon her. There had been no need of court fashion at Amber Hill, and Justina admitted that she had a fondness for the lack of pomp and ceremony.

  “You’d best hurry, my lady. The earl will be letting his hounds loose soon.”

  It was a bold thing for a maid to say to her mistress but Justina understood what prompted the woman to speak. If the viscount was displeased, they would all suffer. There was no difference between them, no matter who wore the finer clothing.

  The maid had spoken truly, though. Justina neared the south gate and heard the hounds howling with excitement. The Earl of Hertford’s household was turned out in large numbers and a great many of the court were also in attendance. The yard was a mass of horses and pages all attempting to ready the animals for riding. The sky was turning rosy pink now with yellow and orange streaking through it. Dark clouds were beginning to drift overhead, promising a storm before afternoon. The sound of trumpets broke through the buzz of conversations and the hounds yelped in response. The large animals pulled against their grooms, knowing the sound of the beginning of the hunt well. A group near the gate surged forward, with the colors of Hertford flying behind them. They took to the road, the hounds leading the way and falcons and hawks perched on arms with their leather hoods still in place. That didn’t keep the birds from showing their growing excitement. They moved their heads with sharp motions in spite of the leather covering them, and they flapped their wings, causing their handlers to make soothing sounds.

  Justina mounted her mare and hooked her knee over the saddle horn. It was a precarious seat, but since Anne Boleyn had lost her head, women were wise to avoid riding like men. The former queen had been well known for her love of riding astride but it had been yet another charge used to condemn her.

  The crisp air turned her cheeks cold and Justina leaned low over the neck of her mare to ride faster. She left behind her the aspiring daughters of nobles who were only there to be seen and possibly offered for, along with the good wives who attended in order to gossip. Riding away from the palace filled her with joy, and she urged her mare faster, allowing herself to live only in that moment, when there was nothing but the open forest. Her heart beat faster and her shoulders lost much of the tension that had been keeping her on edge since her return. Once they reached the woods, the falcons were loosed to spread their wings out and fly overhead.

  Justina tipped her head back, grateful for the long steel pin that kept her hat in place while she watched the raptors soar over the top of the trees. She envied them, but smiled as she watched the way they floated far above everything.

  She did know how to smile.

  Synclair watched Justina, drinking in the sight of her.

  Had it truly been only a few days since he’d seen her last? His lower back ached from too many hours in the saddle, but it was worth it because he’d managed to find the woman he’d spent too many hours thinking about. Her face inhabited his dreams, and he heard her voice when the morning was still dark but he was walking the walls and searching the night for signs of invaders. Whenever there was nothing for his mind to do, his thoughts filled with her. No amount of discipline seemed able to banish his addiction to her. The thing that doubled his frustration was the way the lady ran from him. This time, she had truly taken to the road to escape him.

  That roused his temper because of the risk she’d taken. No woman should be pushed to such lengths; it was dishonorable of a man to do so. True honor was not the pride-filled nonsense that was so often displayed at court. He watched her and drank in the sight of her sitting safely on the side of her mare. It was a fine sight, one that he was determined to see more often.

  Some might label it an obsession. Synclair didn’t know, but he was sure of one fact—he was going to put whatever was between them to the test. At last, at long last, because the single kiss he’d stolen from her was as fresh in his mind as the ale he’d consumed at midday.

  Only far sweeter.

  He guided his stallion closer to his prey. He’d spent hours watching her, waiting on her to emerge from her tower at Amber Hill so that he might approach her. Things would be different now. The rules that had governed his behavior while he was sworn to serve the Baron Ryppon were no longer binding him. He could feel something dark rising up inside him. It had kept him awake too many nights to count while his flesh burned for the touch of the woman intent on refusing him.

  He chuckled softly. He still felt the sting of her hand across his jaw but all that did was increase his need to taste her honeyed lips once more. There was something between them and it was not just he who felt it. She might have resisted his kiss at first but that had turned to passion just as hot as his own within moments.

  He was going to feel that again. Even if the lady sputtered in outrage at him. She would be his, and for reasons he did not understand, that idea persisted through the months she had hidden from him and refused him when their paths did cross.

  He knew her reason, and that only fueled his desire to claim her even more. Synclair swept the area, looking for the man he suspected he might have to kill.

  Actually, he wanted to kill him. The Viscount Biddeford was a blight upon the English nobility, a shame that needed wiping away. He used his guardianship for gain without any regard for honor.

  Justina laughed, the sound sending sensations down his back. It was delicate and far too rare. He gave a tug on the reins in his hands and guided his stallion in closer.

  “A hawk won’t return to its master unless it trusts him.”

  Justina gasped, jumping as she jerked her attention around to face the man she had dreamt about last night.

  It couldn’t be.

  But Synclair sat in front of her, more real than she believed possible. His stallion was a full head taller than her mare, and he angled his head to look down upon her. Unlike the men surrounding the earl of Hertford, Synclair was wearing only sturdy wool garments. There wasn’t a bauble or length of trim anywhere on him,
just the gold knights’ chain secured to the shoulders of his doublet which allowed the chain to drape across the wide expanse of his chest.

  He looked more fetching to her eyes than any other man. Something flickered in his eyes, a hint of pleasure at knowing that she enjoyed looking at him.

  “The raptor isn’t afraid of the world, even when it should be. Once it gains its freedom, it will take a strong bond to bring it back to the man who held it.”

  He wasn’t talking about a hawk. The knight’s blue eyes were hard as winter ice and aimed directly at her.

  “Rather insightful of the raptor; fear is for children.”

  “Or women who are forced to endure guardians that lack honor.”

  Justina gasped again. This time her mare danced in a circle, feeling her rider’s upset. Synclair’s lips twitched, hinting at a grin that never truly showed on his face, but there was an unmistakable flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He used a short pull on his reins to guide his stallion closer to her mare, sidestepping over to neatly push her away from the main body of the hunting party. Surprise held her in its grasp. Her heart accelerated and her thoughts whirled too fast to reign in. Synclair took advantage of that, cutting his stallion ever closer to her mare. Her horse retreated, until Justina pulled up on the reins to insist that the animal stay in place.

  The action didn’t gain her the security she sought, instead Synclair urged his stallion closer, and unlike her mare, the animal seemed accustomed to being pressed against another horse. She felt Synclair invading her space and leaned away out of instinct.

  “Enough, sir. Have done.”

  “I think not, Lady, I have only begun. It is time you and I stand steady and see what happens when we are not being pulled apart by the rest of the world.”

  “I disagree.”

  She leaned farther away, too far to maintain her balance atop the mare.

  The knight’s hand snaked out as fast as a lightning strike to grip her skirt. He grabbed a huge hand full of the cartridge-pleated material, holding her in place when her own movement would have carried her over the side of the mare.

  “What are you doing at court?”

  She couldn’t deal with him back at court when she was forced to remain, too. Something flashed in his eyes, a warning that cut through her like a knife. Her breath became lodged in her throat.

  “Following you, Justina.”

  He spoke her name in a rough voice before stretching out his arm and allowing her body to slide down the side of the saddle. Even as shock held her in its grasp, she was amazed at the amount of strength in his body. He controlled her descent to the ground, lifting one leg up and over her mare so that he sat for a brief moment on top of the animal before he followed her to the ground. He might have simply released her skirt and dismounted from his own horse but he refused to allow her to drop so carelessly. His solid strength supported her all the way to the ground, while he followed her. It happened in a moment but her mind was frozen in shock, making every action slower and more noticeable.

  “Did you doubt that I would follow you?” He made a low sound that communicated how frustrated he was. The tone of it made her tremble, an instant response that she neither considered nor controlled. It simply happened, just as heat began burning a path along her arms and up her neck, before it reached her face to set her cheeks on fire. Words failed her, her thoughts centering on the blush staining her face.

  To think that she might still be capable of blushing ... Such an innocent action felt misplaced but it also sent a tingle of excitement through her heart.

  Synclair lifted a hand and gently stroked her face before she shook off her astonishment. “How could you doubt that I would follow, Justina? I spoke my intentions clearly to you at Amber Hill.”

  “Your intentions?” She stepped away from him, not because his touch offended her, but to escape the sheer enjoyment of having his skin against her own. “You locked me in a chamber.”

  “Only for a week, and then you were given the freedom of the castle. Considering the peril you allowed Bridget to run into when you showed her the way out of Amber Hill, a week was a small penance. But it was by Lord Ryppon’s order and one designed for your protection. Your guardian is unfit. He sent you to deceive us and send Bridget into the night where she might have been harmed. Keeping you in the castle was to prevent you from returning to a guardian who has no conscience about how he uses you.” His voice was edged with hard command, but instead of striking her as arrogant, Synclair seemed worthy of the tone. His eyes sliced into hers. “You were the one who kept to your chamber after that, Lady. It was no simple task to meet you outside it.”

  And yet he had managed it far too often for her faltering self-discipline. Each time he’d managed to intercept her had chiseled away at her resolve to push him away. Now, with his eyes on her again, she could feel every hole in the walls around her heart.

  “I had to sequester myself because you lacked the sense to stay away from me.” He was too large and too tempting. Justina stepped away from him, needing distance to regain her composure. There were solid reasons why she could not allow him to pursue her; she simply couldn’t think of any of them at the moment.

  “If either of us lacks sense, Lady, it is you.” Synclair didn’t follow her. The knight swallowed further words before they crossed his lips, frustration darkening his face. He gripped his wide belt and drew in a deep breath.

  “Your guardian is unjust, Justina.”

  “That is not uncommon nor does it change the fact that he is my guardian.”

  He took a step toward her. “That does not excuse him.” Fury edged his words, noble fire that stole the breath from her lungs. All of her reasons for refusing him flew back into her mind. Her knees nearly buckled beneath the weight.

  Justina clasped her hands together, making herself steady and poised for the rejection she must give him.

  Synclair didn’t give her the chance. He closed the gap between them, his hand cupping her chin and holding it.

  “Do not waste yet more of your breath.” There was a hard warning glittering in his eyes and his tone was as sharp as steel.

  “I must. You cannot champion me.”

  “I assure you, Justina, I can.”

  She drew in a deep breath, frustration biting into her. Trust the man to take her words as an insult.

  “It is not a matter of your ability; I am not a good match for you.”

  The fingers clasping her chin tightened to the point of discomfort but he stiffened and forced his grip to relax before true pain needled her. He lifted his hand away and she pulled in a deep breath, determined to cut him with her next words and send him away before he was smeared with the stains of her sins. She couldn’t bear that idea, and it tormented her unmercifully.

  “That is my choice, madam, and what I have decided is that you shall be mine.”

  “Synclair—”

  He moved lightning quick once more, reaching out to slide one arm around her waist and pull her against his body. He also stepped forward so that she felt like he was capturing her, and indeed the knight was. She felt his strength wrap around her in a solid curtain that blocked out everything except him.

  “Mine, Lady. I swear it to you.”

  Swear ... For a man such as he, that was a solemn oath. She witnessed it flickering in his eyes as her breath lodged in her throat. Justina shook her head, every fiber of her being refusing to allow him to come anywhere near her sordid life.

  “I have said it, Justina, and I plan to keep my word.”

  His mouth claimed hers in a motion that was forceful and demanding. She leaned away from him, seeking escape from her own longing for him. The hand that had cupped her chin found the back of her head and held it steady while his mouth reclaimed hers. There was no further way to avoid his kiss. He took her mouth, demanding that her lips part to allow the kiss to deepen.

  God help her, she wanted to do exactly that.

  Running through her was a curren
t of excitement she had never felt before. In spite of her husband and lovers, a single kiss had never sent her blood racing through her body at such a speed that her head spun in a lightheaded manner. She had never noticed that a man’s mouth might taste sweet.

  Synclair’s did.

  A soft moan rose from her chest, somehow escaping through their joined lips, and the kiss changed. Synclair still held her hostage to his demands but his lips began to slip and slide across her own, gently teasing her lower lip before she felt the tip of his tongue flick over the sensitive skin. She shivered. Enjoyment took command of her body, making it impossible to control her responses. For all her experience, she discovered that she was powerless against his kiss because of the sweet sensation it unleashed upon her.

  “Your body craves my touch, Justina. I can feel you trembling in my arms.”

  She clamped her mouth closed against a sharp cry because she had never heard Synclair use such a tone before. It was deep and husky, touching off a moment of panic because she recognized how devastating that voice would be. She would become enchanted by it, in but a few more words.

  “I am no stranger to lust.”

  He growled at her, the hand holding the back of her head tightening while his eyes narrowed with his displeasure. She could see his temper straining against his control and the battle mesmerized her.

  “Do not belittle yourself, Justina.”

  She pushed against his chest, struggling when she knew that the only way she might be free was by his will. “Release me now.”

  He grunted but his embrace opened, allowing her to place distance between them. She felt chilled the moment she moved, her body lamenting the steps that she took away from him. The skin of her lips was suddenly more sensitive than it had ever been, longing for her to return to him and offer him a kiss in return for the one he had given her.