by Julia Latham
She gave a little gasp as his cock hardened between them. “Do we have the time?”
“If you’re quick.”
He spread her thighs and surged up between them, entering into the moist heat of her.
“Like this?” she said breathlessly.
“Aye, my lady, like this.”
He taught her to ride him, gladly gave her the secrets to controlling him, and then sank back into the pleasure of watching her undulate above him.
When they were both sated, she lay at his side, then lifted to prop herself on her elbow.
“I wish to thank you for teaching me,” she said, her expression earnest.
He trailed a finger over the tip of her breast, watching with satisfaction as it shriveled in response.
And then her words sank in. Teaching her? She could not believe that what they’d just shared was as simple—as emotionless—as that.
“I wanted you to be my first,” she continued, further confusing him. “Now I understand why Lady Rosamond wishes to marry again. Why would she want to give up this?”
Her first lover? He had known that’s what he was, but the mere thought of another man having her made a blaze of anger burn in his brain.
But she wasn’t his.
He had been Lord Kelshall’s squire, John’s second, the League’s hired knight—and now Anne’s lover.
Her very temporary lover.
Was that not what he wanted? Did he not wish to be on his own, to make his own future?
Instead he had let an innocent seduce him for her own satisfaction. He could not be angry that it had happened—and told himself to feel relieved that she wanted nothing more permanent from him. His sexual frustration of the last fortnight was over.
Then why was he so disappointed that the League was more important to her than he was?
He rose up onto his knees and stepped over her onto the floor. She lay back on the bed, her arm curled beneath her head, and watched him with a look of sleepy satisfaction.
And he wanted to take her all over again.
Her eyes widened at his erection, but he turned his back and searched for his clothing. When he was dressed, he chanced one last look at her, and found her still beautifully naked, eyes half closed, her smile dreamy.
“Thank you,” she whispered again.
He bent over and kissed her forehead. “Good night, my sweet.”
She came up on her elbows when he climbed up onto the windowsill. He didn’t look back as he caught the rope and went out into the night.
In the morning, Anne could not even meet Philip’s eyes when they broke their fast in the public room. She knew she’d blush or stammer, and the Bladesmen would be suspicious. Through an accident of seating, she ended up beside him on the bench. Their shoulders brushed, and her awareness of him continued to rise until she thought she’d shiver with it.
She had slept peacefully, with no regrets for the lovemaking they’d shared. But now, as she had to keep it a secret, it seemed so much more monumental. What did it mean between them? How would it end? Or had it already? Did one night with her appease his curiosity?
When at last they were finished eating, they filed past the innkeeper, who stood talking to several men in the front parlor. One man in particular caught her eye, but she did not know why. She could only see his back; he was tall and broad, with dark brown hair. Under his arm he carried a flamboyant hat that struck a memory within her.
When he glanced at her, she was so shocked that she didn’t look away quickly enough. He was Viscount Bannaster, the man who had wanted to marry Elizabeth. Anne had been trapped in the tower for over a sennight because of him.
Anne pushed at Philip’s back to hurry him along, hoping that Bannaster had not seen her. If only she’d already donned her veil, she thought with regret.
They ascended to the first floor, and when the knights and Margaret dispersed to finish packing, Anne pulled Walter and Philip into her bedchamber.
“Walter,” she said in a low voice, “I recognized the man speaking with the innkeeper. Philip, did you?”
Philip shook his head. “I only saw him from the back. Who was he?”
“Viscount Bannaster.”
Philip’s eyes narrowed as Walter said, “He is the nobleman on the husband list that you wished to avoid.”
She nodded. “I know we are near his home, but why would he be here?”
“He saw you?”
“I think so, but he did not seem to recognize me.”
“The journey of Lady Rosamond has been the stuff of much gossip,” Philip said. “Knowing Bannaster and his longing for a rich wife, he could have decided to search you out.”
There was a sudden knock on the door, and the three of them looked at each other.
“If it is him, I will make excuses for you,” Walter said. “Step away from the door.”
The chamber was small, so Philip and Anne could only go to the corner behind the door. They stood side by side, and Philip turned his body so that he shielded her. She wanted to put her hands on his back, to bury her face there and hide.
Walter opened the door. “May I help you, my lord?”
“Sir, the innkeeper told me that Lady Rosamond Wolsingham is staying here. When I heard she was nearby, I had to meet her.”
It was Bannaster’s voice—she would never forget it.
“She is, my lord, but we are preparing to depart,” Walter said.
“I need to speak with her. In fact, you may tell her that I saw her down below, and I have my concerns.”
They could not allow him to discuss this in the corridor, where anyone could overhear.
Anne stepped out from behind Philip. “Show his lordship in, Sir Walter.”
Walter kept himself between the door and her, but he gave her a doubtful look.
“Lord Bannaster is the king’s cousin,” she said.
Walter arched a brow, but he stepped back.
Bannaster strode into the bedchamber and looked around until he saw her. His eyes lit with recognition when he saw Philip at her back. “And you, sir, I recognize as well,” he said. “Were you not Lord Russell’s man?”
“He is Lord Alderley now,” Philip said.
Anne withheld a wince. Bannaster had wanted the earldom that came with marrying Elizabeth, but they hadn’t needed to remind him right now, when they were at his mercy.
But Bannaster gave a crooked grin. “Aye, I had not forgotten.” He gave Anne an assessing look. “You cannot be Lady Rosamond. Although I do not remember your name, when we last met you were pretending to be Lady Elizabeth. And now you have a new masquerade.”
Of course he didn’t know her; she was only a maidservant. She was tired of having to apologize for who she was, as if she wasn’t worthy enough as herself.
She folded her hands together to hide their trembling and stepped nearer to him. She had no choice but to convince him of the need for secrecy. He respected the king. Being related, there would be no reason for him to want King Henry out of power—Bannaster could lose everything.
“Lord Bannaster, I am Anne Kendall. Lady Rosamond lived with my mistress for a time and recruited me to help her with an important mission for the king.”
Bannaster arched a brow. “Recruited you to play her? Why? And what does this have to do with my royal cousin?”
Anne wished she could ask Walter to explain everything, but the League always preferred to keep their involvement quiet. If he wanted to, he would speak. For now, he seemed content to stand with his arms folded over his chest and watch her.
“Lady Rosamond overheard three noblemen discuss treason against the king.”
Bannaster’s smile vanished, and he glanced tensely between Philip and Walter.
Philip nodded. “’Tis so. Although she saw these men, she does not know their names, and must identify them in person for the king.”
“Ah, so that is the reason Henry has summoned all of his noblemen to court,” Bannaster said thoughtfully.
“By looking for a husband?”
“It is what she had announced as her intentions, before this dangerous situation happened.” Anne attempted to mollify him. “You were on her list, my lord, but you knew my identity, so we avoided your castle.”
He nodded, slapping his gloves against his thigh. “That was an intelligent decision. Thank you for the information. I, too, will go to London and see what my cousin has to say—and meet the brave Lady Rosamond.”
Anne stared at him in surprise. “You believe us so easily, my lord?”
“Why should I not? You always struck me as an intelligent woman…Lady Rosamond. It would be far too easy to discover if you were lying.”
She could feel the tension and uncertainty in Philip, but he only said, “My lord, will you say anything about meeting us?”
Bannaster frowned and said in a low voice, “I understand why you don’t trust me. But the king is my cousin, and I would not endanger him.”
“We appreciate that, my lord,” she said.
“Then good day, Lady Rosamond.”
Anne watched him go, curious about the difference in him. He seemed…reasonable.
When Bannaster had gone, Walter looked between Philip and her.
“Did you think I made a mistake telling him?” she asked.
Walter sighed. “From what I could see, you had little choice.”
Surprised that he trusted her, she forced herself to relax.
“And he is the king’s cousin,” Walter added. “What motive would he have for turning against his only access to power?”
“Money? The earldom?” Philip said dryly.
Anne shrugged. “He has money. He always claimed that he wanted to marry Elizabeth to help stabilize Gloucestershire after King Henry came to power. Maybe that was true.”
“And what greater power is there than a relationship with the king?” Walter said thoughtfully.
“We saw them together at Alderley,” Philip said. “The king seemed fond of him.”
Walter nodded and walked to the door. “Meet us in the corridor when you are finished packing, my lady.”
“I am sure Margaret has taken care of most of it,” she said. “I’ll only be a moment.”
Walter did not insist Philip leave. Anne looked at Philip with a frown.
Philip sighed. “Remember, he believes that we have an ‘attraction.’”
“Philip, I cannot allow this affair between us to color how Walter feels about my performance.”
His face impassive, he murmured, “You think I would reveal something that would bring you harm?”
“Not deliberately, nay. But if Walter thinks we believe our relationship is more important than this mission—” She couldn’t even finish the words, so ill did they make her. Her entire future was in Walter’s hands.
Philip cleared his throat. “Do not forget that Walter feels uneasy for keeping secret the murder of Lady Rosamond’s friend.”
“I do not believe he ever felt guilty. He believed himself to be in the right.” Anne went to the saddle bag on her bed, knowing it was already packed, but fiddling with the buckle while she avoided Philip’s gaze. “I hope we did not make a mistake last night.”
She watched Philip stiffen, saw how he controlled his expression. She was hurting him, and she didn’t want to. She was half afraid she was falling in love with him, hurting herself.
“Tell me what you what from me, Anne,” he said.
“This is all new to me,” she answered helplessly. “I tell myself that we should not be intimate again, but then a part of me…aches at the thought of not touching you again. Can we just…see what happens?”
He nodded, but she knew she’d hurt him. She wanted to put her arms around him, kiss the hurt away. She was frightened of how easily she could forget about her plans when faced with Philip’s pain.
Chapter 19
P hilip stared at Anne. They had shared one blissful night, and she was already putting it behind her, looking to her future, one that did not include him.
But wasn’t that what he’d been doing throughout this journey—thinking of the noble wife he would earn…someday?
The tables were truly turned. When they’d first met, he’d rejected her, and now she was doing the same thing to him. He hadn’t known how much it would hurt.
For the first time he thought of what it would be like not to see her every day. His stomach twisted, and he faced the fact that he was growing more deeply involved with her, much as he was trying not to.
And yet all he could think about was that bed, and putting her onto her back and reliving the excitement of being in her arms.
Margaret rode in the front of the retinue with Anne that afternoon as they headed toward Bramfield Hall, home of the second to last nobleman on Lady Rosamond’s list. London was less than twenty-five miles away. The North Road now wound through undulating fields growing grain for London bread, and fattening cattle for London beef.
It had been many years since Anne had been to the city, and already the heavier traffic on the road made her remember her last visit with regret. The litter she and Elizabeth had ridden in had become separated from Lord Alderley’s party in the busy city streets, leaving the girls frightened for an hour before they’d been reunited with Elizabeth’s father.
Anne had a new reason to feel frightened. Large parties of travelers were converging on the city, many with noblemen answering the king’s summons. Some of them were bound to be the traitors that Lady Rosamond would identify.
But she could not think of that now. She was wearing her veil to protect her true identity. And she had two noblemen to impress before she entered the city herself.
Bramfield Hall was a sprawling manor house, the country retreat of a lord when the pressures of the city—and the plague—grew to be too much. It was in the shape of a U, and the entrance was down the center of a lovely courtyard past the two wings, each composed of two floors. She realized that she would miss the protection of high castle walls.
Inside, she received the cheerful greeting that she always did from the servants, since David had gone ahead to prepare the way. But this time she found herself watching Margaret. The maidservant was flushed with happiness, and Anne could tell when she’d spotted her suitor in the crowd.
“So he is here,” Anne murmured.
Margaret nodded happily. “But I will see him later, milady. I’ll take care o’ you first.”
While Lord Bramfield was with his beloved dogs at the kennels, Anne accepted the offer to refresh herself in her bedchamber before joining him for supper. Walter escorted her to the eastern wing, while the other knights mingled with the manor servants.
When Anne and Margaret were alone, Margaret lay out Anne’s gown for the evening, pressing the wrinkles out with a hot iron.
Anne watched her, trying not to smile. “I know how excited you are, Margaret. After I’m dressed, you’re free to go find your man. You will introduce me?”
“Gladly, milady,” the girl said, grinning. She clapped her hands over her red cheeks. “I must look a fool.”
“Nay, just a woman in love. And I envy that.”
Margaret squeezed her hand.
After finally excusing the maid, Anne sat down at small table and looked at herself in the hand mirror. Margaret had missed a curl when she’d styled her hair, and just as Anne began to pin it in place, she heard a knock at the door.
Walter was guarding her, so she called for the person to enter. Both Walter and Philip came in, looking grim.
“What is it?” she asked, rising to her feet and coming toward them.
Philip glanced at the impassive captain. “I came to tell Walter that Margaret already knows a man here—quite intimately, it seems.”
Puzzled, Anne replied, “Aye, I know about him. He is Lord Bramfield’s servant, and he has been courting Margaret for several weeks. He is
the man she met with in Doncaster.”
“He has been following us?” Walter said brusquely.
“Nay, he has been traveling home…I think,” Anne said, realizing with dismay that she had never asked for any details.
“And he just happens to live here, with a man on the husband-hunting list?” Philip said.
She closed her eyes. “I never thought about it. How foolish could I be?”
They exchanged dark glances, and she felt even more guilty. Walter could not be thinking much of her intelligence.
Philip said, “I’m liking this situation less and less. We need to find Margaret. I want to know why her suitor just happens to live at our last stop before London.”
“She is with her young man even now,” Anne said.
“I will find her,” Walter said, “and explain our situation to David and Joseph. Philip, you wait here with Lady Rosamond.”
Philip nodded. When they were alone, he had little to say, only paced.
A half hour passed by the clock on the mantel. At last, Margaret was led into the chamber, looking almost frightened as she stood between Walter, Philip, and Anne.
“Milady?” Margaret said uncertainly.
Anne tried to smile at her. “Margaret, the men have some questions about your suitor. They are just taking precautions.”
Walter began. “It seems strange that we should come to the home of your suitor.”
“Oh, ’tis not strange, Sir Walter,” she said in confusion. Then she blushed. “I asked Lady Rosamond to put Lord Bramfield on the list. And because he was a man she did not know, she agreed.”
Philip’s frown grew ominous. “And was that your idea?”
“O’ course,” she said uncertainly. “We did talk about it, Stephen and me.”
With no emotion, Walter said, “Margaret, though I do not blame you, you have made a mistake in not telling us this from the beginning.”
“But ’tis my private life.” Her lower lip trembled. “’Tis my turn for happiness.”
Philip put a hand on her shoulder. “I fear this might not be as you think. You have been manipulated into putting this castle on our list.”