by Anton, Shari
“Impossible.” Connor spit out the word.
“Why impossible, Connor?” Richard asked.
“The men will be out there to work, not guard a…a lady who should not be allowed out in the forest alone with a group of men!”
“Then let them work,” she countered, encouraged by Richard’s -lack of outright refusal. “I need no guarding. Nor do I fear being alone with Richard’s soldiers. They are well disciplined and will do me no harm,” she added, realizing that she believed it.
Connor leaned forward. “’Tis not your safety that concerns me, my lady, but the men’s!”
“Connor, enough,” Richard admonished in a low, deceptively calm tone.
Connor leaned back at the rebuke. “The woman is not trustworthy, my lord. ’Tis why she must be confined to her hut, kept away from Collinwood’s people. So long as she stays in her place, we may yet survive the years until we can be rid of her.”
Confined to the hut? ’Twas the first she’d heard of such, but apparently not the first time Connor had proposed the plan to Richard.
“It makes no sense to confine either Lucinda or Philip,” Richard said. "So long as they cause no problems, hurt no one, they are allowed the freedom of the bailey.”
“Surely,” Connor countered, aghast, “you will not let her roam about beyond the palisade, my lord.”
Richard shrugged a shoulder. “If Lucinda wishes to gather wood, I see no harm in it. And if it eases your mind, I will go along to watch her. I had planned to check the state of the game in the southern wood anyway.”
He said it so casually, igniting a fresh look of horror on Connor’s face and causing an unsettling flutter around her heart. The thought of tramping about the southern wood with Richard’s soldiers hadn’t caused her a twinge of disquiet. The possibility that she might find herself alone in the southern wood with Richard caused a thrill she had no right or reason to feel.
Yet finally, she had a worthwhile task to perform—even if it was only gathering firewood. So did Richard—checking on the availability of game. Certes, they would do so separately.
Richard set his men to felling two large dead trees along the side of the road, then wandered back into the wood in the direction Lucinda had taken—with a basket in hand to search for kindling. Easily followed, easily found.
She looked up when she heard him, then went back to her task as if he weren’t there.
He gave up pretending that he was looking for hares, or birds, or any other small game, admitting that his quarry the entire time was right before his eyes—picking up small chunks of wood, putting them in her basket.
Lucinda.
He sat on a log and allowed himself the pleasure of watching her lithe, supple form perform a dance of sorts, as she bent over and reached for kindling from the forest floor.
She’d performed another dance earlier, one of words, with Connor. The woman had gall and courage, he’d give her that She’d challenged Connor with the spark of self-assurance that had been missing in her behavior lately.
He’d begun to worry about her state of mind. She’d held to her hut, coming out only for meals. He’d known all along that if she were to find a place for herself at Collinwood, she would have to fight for it.
Oh, he could have ordered his vassals to cooperate, to give Lucinda the deference due her. But they would have resented her all the more for his telling them to accept a woman they had no wish to accept He could only help her in small ways, by giving her a high seat at table, acting as a buffer against Connor.
Lucinda needed to gain the people’s respect on her own. And she had it within her power to do so, if she only would.
With a hand to the small of her back, she raised up and stretched backward, adding a new pose to the many images of her that kept him awake at night.
Not that he needed more than the memory of their one kiss to keep him awake, longing for another. He wanted Lucinda. Fighting his lust had become a hopeless battle, especially now that he was almost certain she would welcome his advances.
Too, he’d wrestled with Basil’s ghost. The specter hadn’t vanished, but grew weaker with each bout Lucinda had been a victim of her marriage, just as he’d been a victim of his birth. Neither of them had control over events not of their doing. In truth, if Lucinda were the widow of almost any other man, she might be far beyond his reach.
Yet she stood in his forest, with a few steps between them, his for the taking if one of them took those steps.
Lucinda bent over again. Two layers of fabric, a gown of gray wool and a chemise of cream linen, were all that barred his manroot from the core of her. His own knee-length tunic didn’t count. ’Twas easily pushed aside. No breeches bound him, for he wore only short hose criss-crossed with leather straps.
“Ouch!” Lucinda bolted upright, sticking a forefinger in her mouth.
He didn’t dare stand up and go over to her with his arousal full-blown. She would see in an instant what he’d been thinking about. Seduction. Tangling his fingers in her long raven black hair, drowning in her exotic violet eyes. Finding a patch of long grass, laying her down, easing himself into her body. Claiming her as his lover.
“A sliver?” he asked, his voice rough.
She put the basket down, then turned her hand to examine her injured finger. “Mayhap.”
“Come here and let me look.”
Lucinda didn’t hesitate to obey Richard’s command. She walked toward him, slowly, giving her pounding heart a chance to quiet.
She’d thought, at first, that Richard had wandered her way and would move on. Then he’d plunked down on a log and stared at her with a breath-stealing intensity that thrilled her right down to her toes. Her body flared to instant arousal and she ceased thinking rationally.
She wanted a kiss, and more, if Richard was willing.
Perhaps she should feel shame for the brazen way she’d flaunted her body to tempt him. To both her dismay and relief, she felt no remorse, only a burning passion for the man who’d awakened her desire.
No sliver pierced her finger. A mere scratch, done apurpose, drew little blood. If Richard hadn’t asked to look at the wound, she’d have asked him to. A base ploy, but hopefully not a futile one.
She stopped in front of him and held out her hand. He took it, gently, and examined the scratch.
“I see no sliver,” Richard said, his voice as ragged as her knees were wobbly.
“Good,” she said, the word more breathed than spoken.
“Aye, good,” he agreed, then turned her hand and kissed her palm.
He caught her around the waist and pulled her into the V of his outspread legs. She stepped toward him and sought his shoulder for balance. The flicker of his tongue on her palm, moist and rough, set her shuddering. The low moan she heard came from her own throat.
And through it she heard the crack and rumble of a falling tree.
Richard felt Lucinda tremble just as the tree crashed to the ground. They had little time before the men felled the second tree and would come looking for them. Not that he needed much time to gain his release.
But a woman needed more, those strokes and caresses in sensitive places that ensured her full pleasure.
He shouldn’t be thinking like this, not when he wasn’t sure that Lucinda was willing. But if she was, and even half as aroused as he…
Richard pushed himself to his feet and found his answer in glittering pools of violet, alight with smoldering passion. For him.
He pulled her in close and molded his lips to hers, trying to hold back and be gentle. Lucinda didn’t allow it. She kissed him back as fiercely as she had before.
His body burned for the woman in his arms, who pressed so close that she couldn’t harbor any illusions about what would happen between them. Now. In an outdoor bower.
If he could find a patch of grass to lay her down on.
Richard broke the kiss and held her tight, her cheek pressed against his chest His heart thudded hard against his ribs as
he surveyed the surrounding wood.
“Richard?” Her voice was high, a bit thready. Her hands clenched around fistfuls of his tunic, as if afraid he would let her go.
She had nothing to fear, not on that score.
“A moment, Lucinda. I merely look—” He found a spot where the grass reached knee-high, where the sun beamed down to the ground unhindered by the trees. “There. All right?”
Lucinda didn’t look. “I don’t give a fig about where!”
“Then put your arms around my neck, woman.”
She obeyed immediately. He picked her up and carried her to the pallet that nature had so thoughtfully provided. Within moments, Lucinda lay right where he wanted her—stretched out beside him.
They didn’t have time to remove garments, to caress and linger over each other’s bodies. Only time to appease the driving hunger that gnawed at them both.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to push Lucinda’s skirts up and rut like a beast. Her face, her neck, were soft and smooth beneath his lips. Her hair felt like silk, her lips tasted like warm honey. He found and explored her woman’s curves, wishing he could gaze upon and touch her naked breasts instead of her wool gown. Her nipples hardened as if they were uncovered, responding to the stroke of his fingers.
When he could stand no more, he reached for her hems, pushing the garments toward her waist, his hand skimming the inside of her leg. Her knees came up when he reached the apex. She gasped when he petted her private hair, and arched into his hand as his fingers found and caressed the moist, hot entrance to her female berth.
One more time he kissed her, hard and long, until her breath came in short, sharp bursts. Satisfied that she was fully prepared for him, he knelt between her spread legs and uncovered that which he’d touched but not yet seen. And gazed upon perfection.
His lover possessed the shapeliest, creamy white legs he’d ever had the pleasure to gaze upon. Her firm thighs were made to clamp a man to her through the fiercest coupling.
Lucinda squirmed under this most intimate gaze. She knew he would be tender and giving, unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
Richard lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her gently, moving to her earlobe, her neck…He lavished her with kisses and caresses, sweet and yet demanding. She reached for Richard. Her fingers in his hair, she pulled him away before she shattered into nonexistence. A deep breath helped calm her raging ache, eased her yearning to be filled and possessed. He would possess her when he entered her. She would be his, whether he wanted it so or not, because for the first time in her life she wanted to be filled, to take a man into her.
He shifted, then rose above her slightly. She knew what the movement meant She put a hand on his broad shoulder.
“Wait,” she said.
He gave her an incredulous look.
“I want…I should…” She shook her head. She lacked the courage to express her wishes out loud. These feelings were too new, the emotions too heady. She might be dazed, but not so far gone as to neglect her part in this.
She pushed on that solid shoulder. “Up. On your knees.”
Slowly, he obeyed, his tunic falling down to cover him. ’Twas that under the tunic which had gone neglected.
Richard watched Lucinda scoot forward slightly, then reach for his tunic, her stare directed at the place where his manroot prodded the garment outward.
Bold minx. He didn’t stop her from satisfying her curiosity, from uncovering what she wished to see, or from tucking the hem into the girdle at his waist, exposing him to the soft spring breeze and her gaze.
“Oh, my,” she whispered, her eyes wide.
He hadn’t thought his loins could feel heavier or more coiled. Hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to keep from howling like a wolf at the moon, delighted with her obvious admiration and approval.
Then she touched him, just one finger on the tip. He hissed at the shock, but held statue still as her hand moved around and down to between his legs, then up his shaft.
“Lucinda?”
“Hmm?”
She didn’t even look up, still mesmerized. And while a part of him reveled in her enthrallment, another part urged him to use the part of his body that fascinated her before it disappointed her.
“Must we still wait?”
“Nay,” she said, easing back down onto the grass. “I see there is no need.”
She raised her hands, inviting him back down. He needed no further urging to join her and slip inside her warmth, so deep, so tight. Those shapely legs curled around his, and the thighs he’d judged firm pressed him further into her snug berth.
Hellfire, she was tight around him, driving him to near release at her slightest move. He strained to hold himself back to give her time.
“Wait,” he breathed.
She arched upward.
“Hellfire.”
He gave her all he had, stroke after penetrating stroke. Her face twisted with near pain, her breathing labored. And then, on an upstroke, her head went back and her legs tightened around him. She came apart, taking him with her into a bliss he hadn’t known existed.
On the very edge of his awareness, Richard heard the second tree fall.
“Hellfire,” she said.
He agreed.
Sweet heaven, with a bit more time, on a mattress or pile of furs, and naked—oh, aye, definitely naked—what utter delight might they find in each other.
“Next time we will do this right, on a comfortable pallet with no one around to disturb us,” he vowed, then realized he’d said it aloud.
Lucinda didn’t look upset at the prospect She cupped his cheek with her hand.
“Aye, my lord, next time.”
Chapter Eleven
Richard slowly opened the door to Lucinda’s hut. Though he needed to rouse Lucinda, he hoped to let Philip sleep. ’Twas barely dawn, the sun’s rays providing a soft light so he could see them on their pallets.
Lucinda rose up to almost sitting the moment he stepped over the threshold. Alarmed, she stared at him until she identified the intruder, then relaxed.
Richard nearly forgot what he’d come for. The woman was a beauty when mussed. Her unplaited black hair swept around her shoulders like a cloud of dark smoke, framing her face of creamy white. She blinked several times, clearing her mind of sleep. Those eyes narrowed, questioning his presence.
He whispered. “Edric is hurt. Come.”
She nodded, but didn’t get up. He knew she waited for him to leave the hut, so she could rise and change from night rail to gown. He forced his feet to move.
Richard stood outside the hut, imagining her removing the night rail, baring her body. As yet, he’d seen only half of what promised to be a glorious sight in whole—Lucinda, naked and sprawled on a pallet awaiting him. For the past two days, since their coupling in the forest, he’d watched for the chance for another such coupling. It hadn’t come as he’d hoped. Their first had been an impulsive coming together. The next would require planning, an arranged tryst.
The thought didn’t sit well. He could more easily excuse giving in to a moment’s fancy than a devised joining with a woman he shouldn’t want, but lusted after as he’d never lusted after a woman before.
She came out of the hut, covered with her rough-weave gown, her hair hastily plaited and unveiled. “What ails Edric?”
“His knee. One of my soldiers came to fetch me, saying Edric had tried to walk but the knee buckled under him.”
Her head tilted. “Why come for me?”
“Philip once commented that you had some skill in the healing arts.”
“You test me?”
“Nay. I simply thought you the most suited to tend the captain of my guard.”
He hadn’t really thought out his motives that far. But ‘twas true. The moment he’d heard of Edric’s ailment, he’d also thought to fetch Lucinda.
“Did Edric injure his knee?”
“I have no notion. I have not spoken to him yet. Will Philip
be alarmed if he wakes to find you gone?”
She shook her head. “He will be fine. He knows I would not go far.”
They walked to the armory in silence.
Edric sat on his cot, clad in only a tunic, the affected leg stretched out. Two men-at-arms stood nearby, chatting with him. Richard waved them out of the armory.
Edric glanced at Lucinda, a slight frown on his face.
“What did you do to your knee, Edric?” Richard asked, drawing the old soldier’s attention.
“Nothing. ’Tis fine. I will walk out the pain—”
“I hear you already tried to put weight on it and could not. I brought Lucinda to have a look.”
Edric gave an aggrieved sigh. “If you insist, my lord.”
Lucinda brought a hand up to cover the hint of a smile that hovered at the corners of her mouth. Richard wished she would let the smile break through, though Edric might not appreciate it.
“I insist. Lucinda?”
She bent to grasp Edric’s bare, bony knee, then ran her hands along the sides. Lucky Edric. Richard could almost feel the gentle massage of her thumbs on his own leg as she searched for the source and cause of Edric’s pain.
“Well?” Richard asked.
“’Tis fine,” Edric stated again.
“’Tis not fine, but could be worse,” Lucinda said. “Nothing is broken, or knotted, so far as I can tell. A stiffness of the joint, I would say. A treated hot compress should ease the discomfort. After a few days’ rest—”
“Days?” Edric exclaimed, incredulous. This time her smile burst forth, directed full force at Edric. “Days. Remember when you insisted that I not use my twisted ankle? Well, Edric, I now prescribe that you not use your knee.”
“’Twill not take days. I am not a fragile woman.”
“Nor am I. Pain, however, takes its own sweet time to subside, whether in a woman or a gruff soldier. Once wrapped, you can walk on it, but sparingly.”
“I have duties to perform. I cannot be lying about—”
Richard interrupted. “Aye, you can, and will,” he told Edric, then turned to Lucinda. “Get whatever you need from the manor. You know where the herbs and bandages are kept?”