by Allegra Gray
Given the direction they were heading, she had a feeling she’d best make up her mind fast.
As if on cue, he turned them aside and through a doorway that opened to a set of chambers beyond anything Celia had previously imagined. Ice blue silk and gold braiding seemed to be everywhere. She caught a glance of a large, elaborate tapestry on the wall, but the man beside her quickly drew her attention away from the furnishings.
He took her hand, his deep eyes focused intently, solely, on her.
Seizing fate, she gave him a slow, warm smile. A smile that, she hoped, was provocative and welcoming in a way that left little doubt of her receptiveness to his affection.
“It’s wonderful.”
He reached a hand up to her face, both of them forgetting the tour. His fingers were long, lean and strong, his nails trimmed and clean. He brushed a thumb along her jawline. Celia shivered and leaned closer.
It was all the opening he needed. His head came down with obvious intent.
Celia did not back away. She simply closed her eyes in anticipation. The first brush of his lips on hers was feather-light, almost nonexistent, and then it stopped, leaving her to wonder if she’d just imagined it. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been that. She opened her eyes, and found him looking at her as though waiting for a reaction. She gave him an uncertain smile.
It was answer enough, for this time his lips closed over hers with possessive force, and her senses began to swim. His lips brushed back and forth, back and forth, coaxing her own to respond similarly. He bit gently at her lower lip, tugging lightly, then releasing it. She clutched at his tunic for balance and felt his arms come around her in response. His tongue slipped through her now-parted lips, quickly stroking inside her mouth, then retreating. Celia gasped at the intimacy of the touch and heard him give a low chuckle in response as he repeated the move.
Pleasure streaked through her. She willed her momentary shyness aside and gave him free access, but he broke away from her mouth and trailed kisses along her jaw, turning her head to the side. His tongue darted out to trace the delicate edges of her ear.
She shivered. Only a moment ago she’d been sure she was on fire. She pressed closer to his warmth. She was up against the full, hard length of him now, and she reveled in the sensation of it. Suddenly this wasn’t about any bargain they’d made, or not made. It was about need, pure and simple. And what she needed was more.
She turned her head back to face him and inched up on her toes, seeking his mouth again. He obliged her willingly, one hand at the small of her back to steady her, the other buried in the hair at her nape to hold her mouth to his.
Tentatively, Celia touched her own tongue to his lips, and heard him groan in pleasure as the kiss intensified tenfold. She nibbled at his upper lip, its texture like roughed-up velvet. He tasted vaguely of the mint leaves the servants had brought to the table at the end of supper—that, and something much more male. Needing still more, she ventured inside his mouth and he welcomed the invasion utterly, stroking her tongue in return, over and over in an erotic rhythm that promised far more intimate things to come. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him desperately as the kiss excited sensations she’d never known existed. The heat she’d felt earlier was back in full force, a knot of fire building in the pit of her stomach and spreading, the licking, flickering flames threatening to consume her.
She was melting. There was no way this could continue—surely she would collapse, or explode. One of his hands left the small of her back to slip between them, and he tore away from her mouth to drag kisses down her throat as his hand came up to cup her breast. He caressed the soft curve of its underside and Celia felt a tremor pass through her.
But when his thumb came up to boldly stroke the nipple that already strained against the fabric of her dress, the wild shot of pleasure made Celia jump back in surprise.
Her hands came up protectively. She gazed at him, forcing herself to lower her hands, but the spell was broken.
He stared back, his eyes dark with passion, his breathing ragged. “You’re going to drive me mad with desire.” He started to tug at her hand. “Come with me.”
Panic—or was it reason?—sliced through the drugged haze his kisses had left behind, and Celia snatched her hand back. What was she doing? What was the thinking? This was madness. She was all but his prisoner, for God’s sake, and here she was responding to his kisses as though they were lovers. Even if she were free to go, they would never be on equal terms. As much as the kisses had affected her, this was too much, too fast. Too everything.
She needed time, time to weigh the consequences, time to consider the count’s intentions, even if her body screamed that their coming together was inevitable.
Oh, but maybe just one more kiss now...
She shook her head—hard—physically pushing away the tempting thought.
He stared at her with an unreadable expression.
She had to know.
“Was this,” Celia asked, looking swiftly between their still-straining bodies, “a part of our agreement?”
He looked wounded. His stance relaxed, the sizzle of desire subdued. “’Twas only—” he stopped.
“My lord?” she prompted when he did not go on.
“You’re frightened.”
She dropped her gaze. “Only startled.”
“I would never force you. ‘Twas only that I fancied a certain attraction between us, and I thought you might be receptive to exploring that attraction. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds.”
“You needn’t apologize.” She’d been just as much a part of that kiss as he had, and though she’d been first to back off, it would be an insult to both of them to deny what she’d felt.
He gave her a long, discerning look. “You’re an innocent.”
The heat of embarrassment spread to the very tips of her toes. “Of course, my lord.”
He inclined his head. “I have moved too quickly, and you are untutored in this type of…diversion. I shall not allow such a lapse again.” He turned and strode from the chamber.
Celia watched him disappear, her breathing calm now but her thoughts more confused than ever.
Chapter 5
Celia awoke early, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying to make sense of what had happened the previous evening. As soon as the first rays of dawn brightened her window, she threw on her gown and went to wander the castle. She couldn’t manage the unfamiliar laces at the back of the gown as well as Marie had done, but the effect was passable.
Even at this early hour, everyone she came across seemed busy, and no one spared a moment to glance in her direction. Would her entire stay at Chillon be this way? Being unused to idleness, she could see herself going mad very quickly. Of course, she hadn’t exactly been idle last night, she thought, feeling heat suffuse her face. The kiss she’d shared with the count had been anything but idle.
Nor had it been wise. In the clear logic of morning she questioned what had led her so astray. If her father knew...if the priests back home knew... she’d never been a model of devotion, but this, what she’d done, what she still wanted to do...
Why did her wits desert her every time she came near Nicolas of Savoy?
Her impulsive nature, her unusual desire for adventures beyond the homestead, had landed her in trouble more than once. Last night’s kiss definitely qualified as an adventure, and it most certainly could land her in trouble. Still, Celia thought as she meandered the castle grounds, it had been a kiss worth some trouble. And despite what he’d said after the kiss, she had a feeling matters between herself and Chillon’s ruler were not quite settled. Had he meant he would now pursue her more slowly? Or not at all? She only hoped she could handle whatever came next.
Celia headed back to the room she’d been assigned, still feeling vaguely on edge. Upon entering the chamber, she was pleased to discover Marie tending the fire as she had the previous morning.
They bid each other good morning. Marie seemed poised to say more, but then with a shake of her head, went back to her chores.
“Have I done aught amiss?”
“’Tis only, after the way his lordship singled you out at dinner last night, and what everyone said...I’m sorry. I do believe you. But there is still talk.”
No doubt. “I would miss you as a friend,” Celia said simply.
“Of course I’ll still be your friend,” Marie said loyally.
Celia smiled at the quick turnaround. “You don’t have to tell everyone though.” She had no wish to tarnish the maid’s reputation by mere association, particularly as Marie would remain here long after Celia went home with her father.
Marie looked somewhat relieved. “Honest, few enough in the castle can claim unsullied virtue. If ‘twere only a matter of yourself and his lordship, few would condemn you. Some would vie to take your place. But when you consider how it came about, and the rumors of your father being a traitor...well...”
“Marie,” Celia said slowly, hoping her trust was not misplaced, “What if his lordship does want…well, me? I never promised aught but to stay until my father returned with more goods and proved himself an honest merchant, but what if—what if he thought I was promising more?”
After last night’s kiss, she had a feeling that, no matter what the handsome lord had told her, he was not done with her. He wouldn’t force her, for which she was thankful, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t pursue her.
The maid’s eyes grew wide.
“Is he like that? With women?”
Marie’s cheeks pinkened. “He’s a man, and a fine-looking one. And powerful. Oui, he’s been known to tumble a maid or two, and none have ever complained after. Mother won’t let me tend his chambers while he’s in residence, for fear he’ll cast his eye my way.”
Celia frowned. That didn’t sound promising. “And afterward? He forgets them?”
Marie blushed harder. “I didn’t mean it to sound like his lordship beds a new woman every night. Not at all. He puts the rule of his lands, and the command of his knights, above such things as desire. I don’t even think there’s been rumor of any woman at all during his current stay. Other times, he’s favored one for a while, and she’d be the envy of all the others, but when the time would come for him to move on to another of his holdings, he would end the relationship.”
“Oh.” She thought about that. “What if it’s me he wants?”
“Do you want him to want you?”
Celia looked up, aghast. Could Marie somehow read her thoughts?
“Stay here a moment,” Marie said suddenly, and she ran from the room. Leaving Celia to ponder her last, rather phenomenal question.
Nicolas of Savoy could have his pick of women, she told herself. He didn’t need a prisoner. But what, she wondered, if his pick was her? She felt both flattered and frightened at the prospect.
No wonder she’d never been interested in the boys of her village. Comparing what she’d experienced before to what she’d felt last night was like comparing stale mead to her father’s best wine in a good year.
Could a man like him be attracted to her, a simple merchant’s daughter? Or had his kiss last night simply been a part of the bargain for her father’s freedom? He’d said it hadn’t, but his words and his actions seemed in conflict.
Just as Celia was wondering what had happened to Marie, the maid returned with another woman who could only have been her mother. The two were the spitting image of one another, with wide-set green eyes that tilted slightly at the corners and matching smiles. The older woman’s hair was covered by a veil and wimple, but Celia was sure that if she removed the head covering her hair would be the same flaxen shade as Marie’s. But for the lines of care etched into her features, she could have been Marie’s twin.
“Mama, this is Celia. Mistress Lyndon. You know, the one everyone is talking about.”
Celia stood and offered the woman a hesitant smile.
“She says she never promised his lordship anything ‘cept to stay here until her pa returns,” Marie continued. “Oh, and Celia, this is Mama. She’s head chambermaid. She’ll know what you ought to do. She always knows what I ought to do, anyway.”
Celia bit her lip to keep from laughing. A brief pang of longing followed the laughter. Having lost her own mother nearly a decade ago, she’d had only her brothers’ wives, busy with their own families, for female companionship and guidance.
“You may call me Alisoun,” Marie’s mother said, returning Celia’s hesitant smile with a warm, open one. “Now, what’s going on between you and his lordship?”
Though the woman seemed friendly, Celia wasn’t quite ready to trust her. “We made a bargain. He let my father go in return for my staying here. When my father returns with more goods to sell, proving himself a true merchant and not a traitor, I may go as well. The count promised my father I wouldn’t be mistreated, or my father would never have agreed. I’ve not done, nor promised, aught else.” Except the kiss. She wouldn’t mention that just yet.
“But now she’s thinking maybe…well, that is, she’s thinking what the rest of the castle already thinks,” Marie explained, her expression somehow conveying both worry over Celia’s plight and delight at being right in the middle of this tantalizing piece of gossip. Not that Celia could blame her. “I think he favors her.”
Alisoun nodded, slowly. There being no seating area in the chamber, she came over and sat on the edge of the bed, followed closely by Marie. The single padded stool in the room went ignored. “I see. It’s true your station wouldn’t normally merit his treating you with the favor he showed at last night’s meal. You think there was more implied in your bargain?”
“I don’t know. I thought it possible, but what else was I to do? But now, I just don’t know. He’s not actually asked anything of me. It’s just this feeling I have…”
Celia remembered the way he’d touched her cheek, just before they’d gone to look for her father’s cart. “I think you’re rather magnificent,” he’d said. In the turmoil of recent events, she’d nearly forgotten it. Somehow she knew it would be all right to confide that much in Marie’s mother. “Just before we made the bargain, he said something about…about me being unusual.” At Alisoun’s sharp look, she explained what had happened.
The older woman gazed for a long moment at Celia, who tried not to cringe under her discerning eyes. Celia felt certain last night’s kiss, by far the more damning incident, was written all over her face.
“He called you magnificent?”
“Oui. I did not take it to mean anything. Just a fanciful moment.”
“Hmm.” Alisoun didn’t sound like she agreed. “You understand, ’tis an unusual deal he’s made with you. Most of the castle believes your father still belongs in the dungeons—or hanging from the gallows—though they’d not dare voice such thoughts before the count. And then, you are quite fetching. Savoy is a young man with healthy appetites. It’s not out of the question.”
“Do you think he means her for his mistress?” Marie asked eagerly.
Alisoun appeared a bit distressed at her daughter’s question. “I’d like to think you were too young to ask such questions. But I suppose a chambermaid is bound to know more about the goings on in a castle than most.”
“Mama, I’m hardly too young. I’m old enough to marry!”
“I know, sweeting,” she said with a resigned sigh, “but mothers always imagine their daughters won’t understand the more intimate details of love until they actually are married. Anyhow, though his lordship is known to enjoy the fairer sex, he does not currently keep a mistress. He’s not had one since coming to Chillon, nigh on six months ago. To my knowledge he hasn’t had a mistress—at least not one that lasted more than a few weeks—since the death of his wife.”
“Wife?!” both girls echoed, ignoring the last part of Alisoun’s speech.
“Yes, wife.” Alisoun leaned in with a smile, no stranger to g
ossip herself. “He married young and strategically, to form an alliance with France. At the time he was living at Chambéry, the main seat of the Savoy holdings, so all I know I learned second hand. I don’t believe it was a love match, and there was never an heir, nor a girl child either. The young woman died of fever more than two years ago. Savoy has been attending to military matters and the productivity of his estates ever since. I understand he’s increased his lands considerably. The House of Savoy rules a large region.”
“How come no one ever talks about her?” Marie wanted to know, uninterested in the details of the Savoy holdings.
“Well, she never came here, so there isn’t much to say.”
“Then what about Celia?”
“Well.” Alisoun appeared to consider the matter. “There are really three possibilities. First, the deal may be an innocent one—in as much as the whole scenario can be deemed innocent.” She smiled at Celia. “Second, he may just be looking for a quick tumble. Not ideal. The third, and most interesting, is that he may truly be attracted to you.”
“What do I do?”
“What do you want to do?”
She hadn’t the faintest idea. Except for the second option. “I do not want to be a quick tumble.” Much as the handsome count stirred her, she had more pride than that. What if he got her with child? Since she was now reasonably certain her father’s freedom was assured, she had herself to consider. A wealthy lord might provide for a child born to his mistress. Unlikely he’d do the same for a child born to a cheap whore.
Alisoun nodded approvingly. “I’m sure your mother would agree.”
“She likely would have, though she passed on some years ago.” Her mother had always taught her children to do right and help others. For years she’d cared for the sick and elderly of the village, until illness had claimed her, too. To be perfectly honest with herself, Celia had no idea what her mother would have thought of the situation now.
“Oh, you poor dear. You’ve only your father?”
“And brothers.”
“Then I’m glad Marie and I are here. You need a woman’s counsel in matters like this.” Alisoun ran a hand over her daughter’s hair. “I must warn you, Nicolas of Savoy is a man who gets what he wants. If what he wants is you, you’ve little standing to deny him.”