by Julia Latham
“So that’s why you faked an escape attempt today.”
She gave another nod. “You are not too angry?”
He hesitated before shaking his head. “But I still do not understand you. I am going to challenge your father, and I’m making you part of it.”
“I cannot control what you do,” she said softly. “My father will understand that. Are you going to return me home now that you know the truth?”
She stared up at him, all soft woman, pleading with emerald eyes.
“Adam, can you not answer me?” she whispered, reaching up to touch his chest. “Will you still take me with you? I would like to have memories to dream of when I leave the regular world.”
He looked down at her hand, which seemed to burn his flesh through his clothing. And he wanted her more than ever, this woman he didn’t understand, who thought a kidnapping and dangerous journey were part of an innocent adventure.
He should think her a fool; instead he found himself pitying her. How had a cruel bastard fathered such a woman?
He rolled on to his back and flung his arm over his eyes with a sigh. “My plan has not changed. You will ride with us.”
She actually gave a joyful laugh. He looked at her dubiously and found her staring up in contentment at the stars glittering through the branches of the trees. There was silence hanging in the night, and darkness all around them but for the glow of their small fire.
“I like sleeping out of doors,” she said softly. “Have you done it often?”
He couldn’t stop looking at her happy expression in disbelief. “When necessary.” Now that she was not “pretending” to be frightened, her worried expression was gone, and her pink mouth was curved into a natural smile. How could she smile so easily, after what her life had been like? Condemned to the nunnery because of a limp? Or was there more to it?
He wouldn’t care; he didn’t want to feel anything for her but a lust that he would control.
“You do not like to talk about yourself.” She said it in a playfully accusing manner.
“And you talk too much. I cannot imagine you taking a vow of silence.”
She actually giggled. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to think only of sleep.
“I’m cold,” she whispered.
He stiffened in more ways than one. “Where is your cloak?”
“Wet. I laid it across a shrub to dry.”
Gritting his teeth, he rolled back onto his side, and she did the same. He didn’t want to touch her, but she literally took his arm and pulled it across her body, snuggling closer, tucking her hips right up against his groin. She sighed with contentment, as if she didn’t care that she aroused him. Or didn’t understand the very real danger of him losing control.
But he never lost control.
And he was never going to be able to sleep.
Florrie awoke before Adam did. She lay unmoving, wickedly enjoying how warm and safe she felt snuggled in his arms. She’d known him less than four days, but already he inspired trust in her, as well as a need to understand him that was almost a physical ache.
She knew what was wrong with her. As a young girl, she used to dream too much about bold adventures. It had taken her away from the dreary uneasiness of her home, where her mother grew weaker with every miscarriage, and the entire household tiptoed around in fear of the marquess’s reaction to his continued lack of a son. In Florrie’s dreams, bold knights always rescued her—and instead, in real life, one had kidnapped her.
Her secret amusement turned to confusion. Before she’d confessed her future vocation, he’d actually told her that he lusted after her—or his body did. She’d often heard her father telling her sisters to be wary of being alone with a man, that men wanted what wasn’t theirs, endangering her father’s plans for their marriages.
Did Adam actually…want her in that way? She’d been shameless in her quest for warmth before they’d fallen asleep last night, and he’d been most reluctant. Surely, now that he knew she was to be a nun, he would not let himself think that way about her.
But he’d kissed her. The soft press of his lips had been most tender, the closeness they’d shared far too attractive. She wished she’d kissed him back more, explored what she might never have again.
But as she lay there in the warmth of his embrace, she felt him stir and press into her with a slow roll of his hips. And to her amazement, she could actually feel that part of him growing. She was embarrassed and intrigued and overcome with a languid sensation of pleasure that she shouldn’t be feeling. He lowered his head to hers, then rubbed against her hair. Did he want to kiss her again? How would she resist him? He wasn’t even truly awake.
But she realized the moment he was, because his entire body grew tense against hers before he quickly sat up. She pressed up on her elbow and looked over her shoulder at him, forgetting until this moment that he’d unbound her hair the previous night. It slid about her shoulders, and he watched it, his eyes a dark blue smolder.
Biting her lip, she looked away from him. Though she wanted to experiment with his kisses, she knew he would be upset at her behavior.
The sun was shining through the trees, Robert was already gone, and Michael was frying something in a skillet over the fire. That got her attention, and she sniffed in appreciation.
Michael glanced at her, betraying no emotion. “I caught fish while you two slept.”
He looked past her at Adam, who gruffly said, “Good work.”
Was Adam embarrassed to be sleeping while his two men completed their assignments? But he was their leader, and had taken charge of her. That was an important duty—except now he knew she would prove no trouble to him.
She decided to ignore him and concentrate on fingering the snarls from her hair, which was a difficult task. She looked up in surprise as a comb was tossed into her lap, but Adam turned away before she could thank him. Gratefully, she used it until she was able to braid her hair, which would definitely have to be washed soon. But she could hardly ask for a bath. Perhaps the stream they’d camped near might be deep enough for her to do as Adam had done the previous morning, dunk her head.
She rose to her feet and approached Adam, who’d returned from the trees and was beginning to saddle his horse while they all waited to break their fast.
“Might I go unaccompanied into the woods this morn?” she asked cautiously.
He looked down at her, and she realized that his habitual cold and aloof expression was gone, as if it were something he’d put on to frighten her. He did not smile at her, but he nodded. She felt…lighter, happier.
As Lady Florence walked away, Adam frowned and forced himself to stop watching her, only to find that Robert had returned, and was regarding him with wary confusion. Sighing, Adam approached the fire and both men.
“You let her go alone, big brother,” Robert said.
“I will watch over her in a moment. I do not think she can go anywhere.” Then he told them about her confession that she was bound for the convent and wanted an adventure.
“Should we believe her?” Michael asked, since Robert was too busy chuckling.
Adam hesitated before answering. He’d believed her words as she said them, so convincing had she been.
Or perhaps so blinded by lust had he been.
But she could be lying, all to lull him into relaxing his watch over her. Then she could escape, or bring the nearest constable down on his head.
“We cannot afford to believe her,” Adam said at last, “not without proof. We have to remember whose daughter she is.”
“One proof will be if she returns this morn,” Michael said.
“Too easy,” Robert answered. “She would be foolish to leave until there were people to help her.”
“Then the next town,” Adam said firmly. “We can test her there.”
After they finished debating their plan, Lady Florence returned from her grooming. Her braid was now wet, as if she’d washed her hair.
She smiled a
t Michael. “Is the fish ready? I am famished!”
Her merry voice was so lilting and pleasant, like a forest stream burbling over rocks. And then Adam caught himself thinking such foolery, and he knew she could lure him into danger if he allowed it.
Chapter 6
For the first time, Florrie rode among the three men with no rope marking her as a prisoner. They knew her motives now, and they still accepted her—well, of course, they accepted her. They were still hoping to use her against her father.
And it didn’t bother her in the least. Nothing would come of it, she insisted to herself. She had plenty of time now to discover what they held against her father. She would be patient.
She tried talking to Robert and Michael through the morning, and although they were pleasant, they did not reveal anything personal to her.
And then there was Adam, who studied her as if she were a creature he’d never seen before. He didn’t watch with interest so much as with intensity. Why didn’t he simply question her instead of staring? She’d tell him almost anything. But why should he believe her? So she forced herself to relax and enjoy the countryside, where the moors had begun to steadily shrink into small hills.
After such an awkward morning, she was relieved when the road they took merged with another, and there were more people traveling—and more muddy holes to carefully navigate. They were obviously approaching another village or town, and when Adam said nothing about his intentions, she could no longer control her curiosity.
“Do we need more supplies?” she hinted.
He glanced at her, and her breath caught as his expression eased into a faint smile. My, did he not realize how handsome he was when he relaxed?
She smiled in return. “I promise this time I will do whatever you say, even if it means waiting outside the village.”
He shook his head. “We go in together. We cannot have you missing the wonder of another quaint village.”
She laughed aloud with excitement. How glad she was that she’d told him the truth!
“But I cannot call you Lady Florence, for obvious reasons.”
“I’m called Florrie,” she said.
He cocked his head and seemed to look her over. Even that simple gaze made her pulse flutter.
“Florrie suits you. ’Tis much less proper than Florence.”
“And I am not proper?” she teased, then blushed as she remembered her sinful pleasure at sleeping beside him. Surely that was not proper.
He rolled his eyes. “We cannot call you Florrie, either, for fear your name should reach the wrong ears. I will call you Katherine today.”
And now she had a secret identity on her grand adventure!
Unlike Richmond, with its castle and many inhabited streets, this truly was a village, with a small green surrounded by thatch-roofed stone houses at the junction of two roads. A two-story inn made of gray stone dominated the crossroads, and there were many horses enclosed within the yard.
“A popular place,” Florrie said. “Where will I wait?”
“If they have a public room, we shall eat our dinner here today,” Adam said.
Ah, it was good to no longer be treated as a captive, she thought with anticipation.
Michael nodded. “Robert and I will keep watch over the horses and purchase our supplies.”
“But do you not want to eat with us?” Florrie asked, feeling sorry for them.
Adam gave her an impassive glance, and she realized that this was not a pleasant jaunt for them; they’d probably been hired for this task.
“Never mind,” she said ruefully, giving the two men an apologetic look.
Robert only laughed and shook his head, while Michael appeared uninterested. Perhaps a public inn in a nondescript village was nothing to them, but to Florrie, it was another chance to see—and do—something new.
Adam helped her dismount, then took her arm to lead the way inside. She did her best to appear simply tired and subdued, but she could not help looking everywhere as they passed through an entry room where a man—the innkeeper?—stood behind a counter. The public room was off to the right, and at midday, the tables were mostly occupied with men. A huge fireplace dominated one end of the room, and although it was stacked with logs, it was not lit on this fine summer’s day.
“If we were here tonight,” Adam said quietly near her ear, “this would be a much more boisterous room.”
“This is a tavern where men come to drink?” she asked.
“’Tis the best place to gather. A man can learn much here, as drunken tongues wag foolishly.”
A man in a leather apron and cap came to lead them to a table, and soon they were eating steaming lamb pie. Florrie chewed slowly, enjoying the rare treat after so many days traveling. She watched Adam, whose his eyes were constantly scanning the nearby tables, the windows, the door. She knew he was concerned about being confronted.
“So you come to such places often?” she asked.
His eyes met hers again. “Nay.”
“Oh, but I thought…” Her words died.
“I have come on occasion, but that is all. I, too, did not travel in my youth.”
Then he put a spoonful in his mouth, as if he regretted those words.
“So that is why ’tis Michael who guides our journey.”
He nodded.
“Why did you not travel?”
He seemed to chew his food even more slowly, before saying at last, “I was not permitted to. My brothers and I were well guarded.”
“Why?”
“I cannot speak of it.”
She resisted the urge to sigh loudly. “How many more brothers do you have?”
“One. He is my youngest brother by three years, named Paul.”
“Why is he not serving at your side?”
“He left us before we undertook this mission.”
‘ “Undertook this mission’? You sound like this was an assignment from your lord.”
He frowned. “You mistake me.”
“Then why say it in such a way?”
“’Tis the only way I know.”
He was such a mystery! What young man was not permitted to travel in his youth? Boys were usually given much more freedom than girls. But she sensed a direct approach with questions would not work.
“Where did Paul go?”
At last this seemed to reach him, for pain flared briefly in his eyes. “I know not. He wanted to make his own way in the world, and I could not gainsay him.”
“Do you miss him?” she asked softly.
“I spent my life taking care of him, and without him at my side, nothing seems right. But surely you understand that. Two of your sisters are married with their own homes.”
“You know much of me,” she said dryly. “And the third, Matilda, is married to Father’s heir, but they live with us,” she added with a sigh.
“You do not sound pleased.”
She used her spoon to break open more of her pie. “I must confess, I am not as close to my sisters as you are with your brothers.”
“But…I thought women were naturally bound together with love and support. We were taught—”
He broke off and quickly took another bite of his pie, but Florrie wasn’t fooled. He’d revealed something he hadn’t meant to say. He’d been taught about women? What kind of a curious education had he been exposed to as a child? She decided not to press him yet. The more familiar he became with her, the more he would speak.
“Women are often very close to one another,” she said slowly. “But my sisters have always been encouraged by my father to count on my assistance whenever they needed it.”
“But not the other way around.”
She smiled at him. “I did not ask for much. I was more content with my life than they could ever be. They were far too concerned with finding the proper husband, and what they had to do to prepare themselves for such a hunt.”
He blinked. “Looking for a husband is like a hunt?”
She lifted he
r nose in the air. “There are only so many noblemen to be had, after all,” she said primly, then smiled. “My father was determined to be allied with the best families in England.”
“But not through you.”
She shrugged. “I understood. The dowry money was better spent on attracting a viscount for Agnes and an earl for Christina. Matilda, married to Father’s heir, Claudius Drake, will be a marchioness someday. For me, Father has set aside money for the convent, of course, but ’tis hardly the same amount necessary for a marriage.”
“But with that money, you could have attracted a mere knight, could you not?”
Those blue eyes she’d once thought of as perpetually cold now studied her. Was he teasing?
She found herself blushing again. “Nay, my infirmity made such a thing difficult, so Father determined it best that I represent the family in the church. I understood, and I accept it. It will be a better life in many ways.”
“How?” he asked, straightening on his stool as if in surprise.
“I am looking forward to the education afforded a woman in a convent. And I will be doing God’s work—not my sisters’.”
Though he smiled and seemed to mean it, she thought his face almost seemed…stiff, as if he wasn’t used to expressing emotions. How curious.
Suddenly someone came to a stop in the rushes next to their table. Florrie looked up to see Michael nodding to them, his red hair falling forward over his brow.
“Sir, there is a problem with the horses. May I have a moment of your time?”
Adam nodded. “Katherine, please remain here and finish your meal. I will only be absent a short time.”
And then the two of them were gone, leaving her alone in the public room. It was a novel experience, since she’d never been totally alone with strangers—unless you counted her kidnapping. She continued eating, thanked the server for refilling her cider, and looked at all the people and the way they were dressed. Fascinating.
Several men began to openly stare at her. She should feel uncomfortable, but she didn’t. She knew Adam would protect her. It was an unusual feeling to have a man’s protection, and she relished it, however temporary it was.