by Julia Latham
He shook his head, his expression rueful. “Nay, in those days there were no women admitted. But six years ago the League trained its first Bladeswoman.”
“I am in awe!” she cried, feeling pleased for her sex. “And she fights with a sword?”
“She does. Another one is in training even as we speak.”
“And you were there as they trained her? Was it so very strange?”
“I had already been on several League missions, so it was not so unusual to me. And Robert had already escaped to visit the nearest village and see women. But Paul…” His voice trailed off into sadness. “Paul was angry to have been so cut off from the female sex.”
“I am not surprised,” she said dryly. “You were not angry?”
His voice softened. “I was never angry with the League. Which made Paul angry with me. He thought I was blind.”
“You thought any deprivation you suffered was worth it when people would be helped in the end.”
He glanced at her with surprise in his eyes. “Aye, I thought that.”
“And was it worth it?”
He looked away. “It was…for a while. To see the resigned sorrow in someone’s eyes turn to joy—there is no better feeling.”
“Perhaps that is how I’ll feel when, as a nun, I can help people.”
He shot her a sudden dark look, and she could not read his expression. He did not like hearing about her future? That was foolish, for it was inevitable.
“So have they found other children to bring into the League?”
He shook his head. “They deemed the program unsuccessful.”
“Unsuccessful? Look at you! You are a fine Bladesman.”
He grinned suddenly, and it almost stole her breath with its beauty.
“A Bladesman who kidnaps women?” he scoffed lightly. “I am certain the League is blaming itself for my downfall.”
“You are your own man, making your own decisions. Any Bladesman would do the same. Why else do they think they failed?”
“My brothers and I had a difficult time out in the real world.”
She winced at “the real world” as she thought of young boys being forbidden from a normal life.
“After Robert first escaped, the League realized that we might hunger for what we missed—and that we might stand out as different, which would make being a Bladesman difficult. After all, we’re trained to be unnoticed when we want to be, but if we didn’t know how people lived, how could we blend in? So we were given even more lessons about what a squire would learn, from how to play an instrument to serving the nobility at meals to dancing with ladies.”
She had a difficult time restraining herself from gaping at him, as she imagined learning all these things without women. And then she wanted to laugh at the thought of a group of Bladesmen all learning to dance. But it wasn’t funny. No wonder Adam seemed to find some of her behavior so curious. Women were a mystery to him!
Adam looked away toward the horizon with its endless fields of grain. She watched him study their surroundings, as if estimating their distance from the village that could only just be glimpsed far to the north. Even when he was talking, he was always aware.
“And people were…different from what I was used to,” Adam mused. “There wasn’t the same need for order. And so many people have no great honor in themselves or their work. I…did not understand them.”
“But people are all different,” Florrie said, wishing she could explain better. “Would not the world be a boring place if everyone were like the League?”
“In many ways, it would be better.”
Then he turned those intense blue eyes on her, and she felt the path of his gaze down her body as if he’d touched her.
“And in so many ways, it would be worse,” he said in a husky voice.
She held his gaze, letting herself revel in his admiration and desire. She remembered his hands on her breasts, his mouth on hers, and the heat from memories alone warmed her body, made the depth of her belly clench.
“So women make the world a better place?” she asked softly, almost blushing at herself for wanting to hear his praise.
“Aye, they do,” he murmured, his mouth tilting up in a small smile.
She wanted to kiss that smile, induce a moan of need from him. He’d been totally deprived of softness in his life, and now she wanted to give it to him—to experience it with him.
What did that say about her? she wondered, suddenly looking away.
Chapter 12
When they stopped to eat a midday meal, Adam stood as he munched his cheese and twice-baked bread, staring out at the countryside, wondering when the League would attempt to rescue Florrie again. Or would her father surprise him by doing the same? It was Michael’s turn to scout the area, and he trusted the knight to alert them to anything suspicious.
He was concentrating so much on his thoughts that it took a moment for the conversation behind him to register. Then he turned around, frowning, to see Robert and Florrie leaning toward each other, talking.
“I cannot believe I would be capable of such a thing!” Florrie was saying in her dramatic way.
Capable of what?
Robert waved a hand in dismissal. “I am not proposing that you kill a man, just that you defend yourself, perhaps wounding him enough to escape.” He held up a dagger. “Why are you so resistant?”
Florrie looked at the weapon as if it were a snake. “But…women are taught to be nurturing, to be loving. I pride myself on my ability to help others, to bring happiness into their lives. What kind of cynic would I be if I was prepared to harm someone?”
Curious, Adam sat down beside her, meeting Robert’s nonplussed gaze before looking back to Florrie. “How is being prepared cynical?” Adam asked. “I would understand if in your everyday life you went without protection, but you saw what happened last night—what has happened before.”
“You mean when you kidnapped me?” she said sweetly. “So if I’d have had a dagger…”
He shrugged. “You were so afraid, you’d have cut me without a second thought.”
Unease clouded her green eyes. “And it would have been a mistake.”
He smiled. “Really? You do not wish you’d never met me?”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I already told you that this is the adventure of my life, danger and all. I regret nothing.”
“Then how can you regret learning to defend yourself?” Robert asked patiently. “What if thieves invade your convent someday?”
Whenever her future was mentioned, Adam felt the strangest feeling of unease. It wasn’t his future; it wasn’t his choice. But the thought of lively Florrie, wearing a wimple to hide her hair, having to be silent most of the time…
Florrie was watching his face, then looked away. “Very well,” she said briskly. “Show me what to do.”
Adam did not rise as they did, content to watch his little brother educate her. Robert, normally so amused, was full of respectful intensity, which pleased Adam.
As Robert began his explanations, Adam mulled his regrets. He hadn’t liked confiding so much in Florrie, forcing her to keep even more secrets, giving her such power over him and his men. But he needed her confidence, and he thought he was slowly being granted it.
He smiled as Robert had to repeatedly reposition the blade in her hand, but he liked the quiet triumph of her expression when she finally mastered the position. Movement with the weapon was harder to master, for her uneven legs made timing even more difficult. Perspiration broke out on her brow, and after wiping her forehead twice with her arm, she bent over, grabbed the back of her skirt and pulled it forward between her legs, tucking it up into the girdle at her waist.
Even as Robert laughed, Adam’s breath left his body in a rush. Though he’d seen her naked, it had only been a brief moment before she’d thrown herself into his arms. And at the time, his gaze had concentrated farther north. Now he was able to stare at his leisure, and he didn’t even think of look
ing away. Though her legs might not be matching in length, they matched in smooth suppleness, with long lines that curved in and out provocatively from her dainty ankles to her willowy thighs. Strong-looking thighs that had already clasped about his waist.
He was suddenly glad for the tunic that hung to his own thighs.
But he didn’t look away. Florrie was hesitant to thrust her dagger at Robert, obviously fearing to harm him. She didn’t realize that Robert had been trained to study facial expressions, to anticipate movement, and could adjust his response so quickly that it seemed magical.
She rounded on him after staggering past where he’d just been. “How do you do that?”
“I am talented,” he said, shrugging.
She tried again, and this time he caught her from behind, easily taking the dagger from her. When she was free, she stamped her foot in frustration.
“’Tis only your first lesson,” Adam said mildly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against a tree. “Robert had a dagger in his hand when he was five.”
Her frustration changed into a brief expression of pain. She was a woman, and she would not like to imagine young boys with weapons. But how else did boys become men?
“And who would a child of five train with?” she asked skeptically.
“Me, of course,” Adam answered.
“And that made you…seven?”
He nodded.
“Well, seven is so much older,” she said with sarcasm.
He shrugged, still amused. “I felt compelled to train, even then.”
Looking at him, she slowly lowered her dagger and spoke in a soft, mournful voice. “Because of what had happened to your parents.”
Elaborating would only hurt her, so he said nothing. After a moment of silence, Robert touched her arm, and they returned to her lesson.
After another half hour of frustration—with a bit of triumph at the end—Florrie rounded on Adam, again wiping her damp forehead. “I have a request, and I think it will help mislead anyone still trying to follow us.”
He was on his knees, packing up their meal when she spoke. He glanced up at her. “Proceed.”
“We should stay at an inn tonight.”
“Impossible.” He stood up to attach the bag to his horse’s saddle.
“Please listen.”
She approached him, and he almost said that if she wanted his full attention, she should hide her legs, but she didn’t seem to notice his distraction.
“After the recent attacks, no one would ever guess we would openly stay in a village inn,” she said. “No one would think you would allow such a thing. Am I correct?”
Though Robert met his gaze, he only whistled and went to tighten the girth on his horse’s saddle. After all, it was Adam’s decision, his nonchalance seemed to say.
“Of course I wouldn’t,” Adam said. “Nor will I allow us to stay in the open.”
“We will play husband and wife, and I will be so convincing,” she said, a faint thread of pleading now in her voice. She laid her hand gently on his arm. “I have not had a true bath since this adventure began.”
“And is that not part of the adventure?” he countered, but already feeling himself beginning to sway. If he gave in to her, risked notice, would she trust him even more? Perhaps he could at last discover if she was aware of any of her father’s secrets.
She did not answer, only gazed up at him with beseeching eyes, her hand still touching him. He knew she was trying to manipulate him, and he allowed it—but only for the sake of her trust.
“Very well.”
When she clapped happily, he put up a hand.
“Allow me to finish. I will discuss it with Michael and Robert, to best determine our course. And you will abide by our decision.”
“Aye, sir!”
She almost skipped to her horse, a slightly out of balance move that was far too endearing. He turned away, disappointed in himself.
Robert came to his side even as Florrie mounted her horse.
“Adam?”
“Aye, I know it might be a mistake,” Adam said in a low voice. “But she still might know something about her father. The more relaxed and happy she is, the more she might tell us.”
“I understand,” Robert said.
“But will Michael?”
Robert gave him a confused look. “Do you not know he would do anything you wanted? You are his liege lord.”
“Quiet,” Adam murmured, glancing at Florrie. But she couldn’t have heard, for she’d guided her horse to the edge of the path, and was watching as Michael approached through the fields.
Adam had spent his whole life learning to disguise himself as other people, but those skills had always been used against a villain. How was he to manipulate Florrie? Real life had more subtleties than he’d ever imagined. Once again he found his confidence in the League shaken, since they hadn’t even given him the skills to face a woman like her.
Adam was both impressed and uneasy at the way Michael took to the challenge of finding the right inn. They rode far too close to Rockingham, a royal castle begun by William the Conqueror, in hopes that none of their pursuers would assume them so bold. They went past it to the market town of Corby in Rockingham Forest, with its wooden, two-story inn near the market cross. Both Robert and Michael would remain outside the town, taking turns scouting for the enemy.
Florrie looked disturbed when she heard about the two men’s assignments as their party entered the outskirts of the town. “But I thought we all could enjoy a night of comfort.”
“I thank you for your kind thoughts, my lady,” Michael said, nodding to her, “but I would feel better knowing that you and—Sir Adam are safe.”
Adam refrained from rolling his eyes at Michael’s hesitant use of his assigned title.
But Florrie only nodded solemnly. “How kind of you, Michael.”
Robert, riding at her side, doffed his cap. “And me, my lady? Do I have your good wishes?”
She leaned between their horses, her seat secure, and patted his arm. “Of course, Robert. My husband and I appreciate your service.”
And though she laughed at Adam, her eyes merry, he began to remember what it was like having to play her husband. This time, instead of a hayloft in a barn, they would be sharing a single room, sleeping together in a bed—and bathing.
Perhaps some of his uneasiness transferred to her, for after they entered the stable yard through a tunnel beneath the upper story, she became far more animated than normal. She held his arm possessively—though he realized this allowed her to mask her limp; quite intelligent on her part. After grooms led away their horses, they went into the entrance hall, where she spoke more to the innkeeper than he did, prattling on with sunny happiness about their first year of marriage, and their journey east to visit her mother.
It was only when the manservant left them alone in their chamber, with promise of a hot supper within the hour, that she grew quiet. It was a small room, with a coffer, a table, two chairs—and the bed.
She lifted her chin with determination, smiled at him, and began to unpack her saddlebag.
“Hand me your dirty garments, Adam. After my bath later, I will wash them.”
“I can see to my own garments,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “I am your wife tonight. We cannot forget that.”
As if he could forget. A wife for the night. In her innocence, she could not know what that implied.
He gladly reached for the pitcher of ale left by the servant and poured himself a tankard. He sat down by the fire, for it was a cool night. He should look at the embers or out the window—anywhere but at Florrie. But her precise, feminine movements drew his gaze until he finally stopped fighting it. She hummed as she worked over the saddlebags, laying out her second dress, frowning over a tear in the hem.
“Perhaps I can borrow a needle and thread,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Surely some of your garments could also use mending.”
This was a dom
estic scene totally unfamiliar to him, and it rendered him strangely melancholy. “I can repair my own garments.” He almost winced. He hadn’t meant to reject her gracious offer so abruptly.
But she seemed to understand where his thoughts lay. “Ah, since there were no women, they taught you to sew.”
“In a limited fashion,” he amended.
But she gave him a soft smile. “Let me do this for you.”
He opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say. At last, too confused, he asked, “Why do you want to help me like this?”
She stopped near him, refilling his tankard. “But this is what I do, Adam. I help people. It has always given me great fulfillment.”
“Because you’ve had no other kind,” he said darkly, thinking of the way her family treated her as a servant.
She tilted her head, her expression wry. “What other fulfillment is there for a woman in my position?”
For a frozen moment, he thought of the fulfillment he could give her in that bed. He would seduce a woman’s joy from her body, give her pleasure she’d never imagined.
Give himself pleasure. And that was too selfish. She was no strumpet to be used for a night. She was the daughter of his enemy, bound for the convent—and how many more times could he repeat those excuses to himself?
To his great relief, a manservant arrived with a covered tray and left it on the table for them. After asking the servant for sewing supplies and seeing him to the door, Florrie busied herself setting out each wooden plate with its thick trencher of bread, and chunky stew poured over the top.
“The table could use flowers in a vase,” she murmured, as if to herself.
“Why?”
She glanced at him in surprise. “For something beautiful to look upon.”
He simply stared at her, because he wanted to say that she was beautiful enough to look at. Concentrating grimly on his food, he began to slice it into smaller bites.
When she had seated herself and begun to eat, he said, “You like making things look pretty. Why?”
“Because it makes me feel happy to see beauty.”
“But…it is not a function of the meal. All we need to do is feed ourselves, to help us stay strong.”