Suddenly Drake stopped, pressing Raven’s hand in warning. “Did you hear that?”
“Nay, I heard naught.”
“Listen.”
Drake remained perfectly still and so did Raven as they listened to the night sounds around them. A horse snorted and Drake stiffened.
“Do you hear it now?”
“Aye. What does it mean?”
“Someone is camped nearby.”
“Poachers?”
“Mayhap.” But he did not think so. “Stay here while I take a look.”
Drake crept through the thick gorse toward the sound he had heard. He stumbled upon the camp without warning, for no campfire had been built to give the campsite away. Drake saw a man lying on the ground, wrapped in a blanket, his head upon his saddle. He searched the site for others and relaxed somewhat when he saw no one but the one man. Catlike, he circled the campsite, tense, waiting. Was the man friend or foe?
Moving stealthily, he crept from tree to tree, stopping short when he spied a pair of horses hobbled close to the campsite. Two horses. That puzzled Drake, for he had seen only one man. One horse lifted its head and swished its tail. Drake was speechless when he recognized his own Zeus. And the second horse belonged to Sir John. Zeus snorted a greeting.
Suddenly a shadow fell across his path and Drake reached for a weapon that did not exist.
“I thought you would never get here, my lord.”
“John!”
“Aye. What took you so long?”
“How did you know it was I?”
“Zeus. Your horse sensed your presence before I did. I pretended sleep until I realized ’twas you snooping around my campsite.”
“Were you so certain I would appear, then?”
John smiled. “Aye, I never doubted it.”
“Where did you find Zeus?”
“One of your men found him after Waldo dragged you away. Most of our warriors survived the battle. When I returned from Builth Wells, I found them camped in the forest. They were waiting until they learned your fate.”
“Where are they now?”
“I sent them back to Windhurst with the wounded. I knew you would escape, Drake. No dungeon in the world is strong enough to hold the Black Knight.”
“Your faith humbles me, John, but for a time I truly believed I would breathe my last in Chirk’s dungeon.”
“How did you escape? I can hardly wait to hear.”
“Later, John,” Drake said. “Raven will be frantic with worry if I do not return for her soon.”
John looked stunned. “Lady Raven is with you? God’s blood! ’Tis incredible. Get her, by all means. Meanwhile, I will break camp and saddle the horses. You and Raven can share Zeus’s back.”
Drake clasped John’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. You have quite possibly saved both my life and Raven’s.”
Raven was consumed by fear as she waited for Drake to return. She imagined all kinds of danger he could have walked into and wished he had taken her with him. He had been gone far too long, and though she knew he had warned her not to roam, she wanted to be of help if he were in trouble. Throwing caution to the wind, Raven started after Drake.
She had not gone very far when she heard the murmur of voices and paused to listen. Following the sounds, she moved cautiously forward. Then she saw them, standing in a patch of moonlight beside a pair of horses, speaking in low tones. One of the men was Drake. The other was . . . Sir John! She gave a cry of pleasure and rushed out to join them.
They must have heard her, for they were immediately on guard. Drake recognized her first.
“Raven! I told you to wait for me.”
“I was worried and wanted to help if you were in trouble.”
“Did you think to defend the Black Knight with naught but your teeth and nails?” Sir John asked, laughing softly.
Raven did not laugh. If need be, she would indeed fight tooth and nail on Drake’s behalf. “Why are you still here, Sir John?”
“I could not leave until I learned Drake’s fate. And I wanted to be here to help him when he escaped. After I left you at Chirk, I found the remnants of our men hiding in the forest. They, too, were awaiting word of Drake’s fate. I sent them on to Windhurst and remained behind. You see, I never doubted Drake’s ability to escape.”
“We must leave immediately,” Drake said. He searched Raven’s face. “You are exhausted. You can sleep in the saddle. Zeus is fully up to carrying our combined weight.”
John had already saddled both horses. “I hope you are not hungry, for I have little to offer you,” he said. “We can purchase food in the first village we pass.”
“I have no coin,” Drake said.
John smiled. “Fear not, my friend. I have enough coin for our needs.”
“I would ask a favor of you, John,” Drake said. “You have shown your loyalty to me time and again, but I would ask one more thing of you.”
“Name it, Drake.”
“Ride to Builth Wells and inform Granny Nola that Raven and I are safe and well for the moment. She will be worried about us, and you are the only one I trust with her location.”
“Of course I will go,” John said. “I will meet you at Windhurst. But first you must take the coins remaining in my purse. I will not need them.” He removed his purse from his belt and handed it to Drake.
“Save some for yourself, John,” Drake said, accepting only part of the money.
Drake mounted Zeus and John lifted Raven into the saddle. Raven placed her arms around Drake’s waist and held fast. Then his arms came around her, holding her firmly against him as he gripped the reins and kneed Zeus forward.
Fourteen
A knight’s word is his honor.
They rode throughout the night with no sign of pursuit. Raven slept in the saddle, curled against Drake. They had left the forest behind and rode over moors carpeted with heather and alongside cliffs where the sound of water dashing against rocks reverberated like thunder. Raven stirred in Drake’s arms. A few moments later she awakened, confused and disoriented.
“Where are we?” she asked, gazing up at Drake. Deep grooves of exhaustion lined his face, and she wondered how he had kept himself in the saddle this long.
“Far enough from Chirk to stop and rest,” he answered. “A village lies a short distance inland, and a stream just beyond. I passed them on my first trip to Windhurst. We can visit the village to purchase food, then rest a few hours beside the stream. The spot I have in mind is secluded and will conceal us from travelers. Zeus can drink his fill and rest while we refresh ourselves.”
“Can I bathe?” Raven asked eagerly. “My skin crawls. I am filthy from creeping around in the tunnel.”
“The water will be cold.”
“It matters not.”
Drake grinned. “I am of the same mind. I am eager to wash the stench of the dungeon from my skin.” He reined Zeus away from the cliffs.
A short time later they reached the village. It was market day. The narrow streets were filled with people and vendors hawking their wares. They bought two meat pies, wolfed them down, then purchased more pies, cheese, bread, and ale, enough to last until they reached Windhurst if they ate sparingly. Sufficient coin remained to buy a dappled mare for Raven, a mantle for Drake, and a change of clothing for each of them. The vendor took one look at their dirty faces and added a cake of soap to their purchases.
After Drake tied the sack of provisions and the skin of ale to his saddle, he lifted Raven atop her mare and led them both away from the village. They found the stream with little difficulty. Drake seemed to know exactly where he was going as he guided Zeus and the mare to a bend in the stream where a canopy of trees hid them from passersby.
“I camped here once,” Drake explained as he dismounted and lifted Raven down from her mare. “ ’Tis a quiet spot. We can build a campfire without fear of being seen. There are few travelers in this part of Wessex.”
“Think you Waldo knows we are missing by no
w?” Raven asked.
“Aye. Doubtless you were missed this morning when food was brought to break your fast. ’Tis unlikely my own absence will be discovered until the guards visit the dungeon to administer the beating Waldo ordered. When Waldo puts two and two together, the entire castle will be in an uproar. He will spend a day or two searching the keep and surrounding buildings before he sends men out to scour the forest. Then it will be another sennight, mayhap longer, before Waldo figures out how we escaped.”
Raven found a grassy spot beside the stream and sat down. Drake unsaddled the horses and led them to the water. After they had drunk their fill, Drake hobbled them where they could nibble on sweet grass and dropped down beside Raven.
“Are you ready for your bath?”
Raven removed her slippers and stockings and dangled a toe into the water. “ ’Tis cold.”
“Too cold?”
“Nay.” She stood and removed her clothing except for a thin shift. “I am too filthy to quibble about cold water. Besides, the sun is warm enough.”
Drake could not look away. Her beauty was mesmerizing despite the layers of dirt upon her face. He thought her more graceful than a willow as she waded fearlessly into the cold water. The stream was shallow. She reached the center and sat down on the sandy bottom, flinching when the water crept up to her breasts.
“You forgot the soap,” Drake called. “Do not move. I will bring it to you.”
He found the soap in the same package with their clean clothing. Then he retrieved the blankets from his saddle and returned to the stream. He stripped quickly and unwound the bandage from his broken ribs, his hungry gaze riveted on Raven.
“God’s blood! It is cold,” he cried as he waded toward her.
She laughed. Drake could not recall when he had heard a more provocative sound. Of late, he and Raven had found little to laugh about. He wished fervently that he could change all that and was surprised that making Raven happy should be so important to him.
“Stand up,” he said, grasping her hand and pulling her to her feet. “I have the most profound urge to wash every part of that delectable little body.”
“ ’Tis unseemly for the Black Knight to act as maid,” she teased.
“The Black Knight does as he pleases,” Drake responded as he grasped her shift, pulled it over her head, and tossed it upon the bank.
“I have missed you,” Raven whispered as she walked into his outstretched arms.
Her hands roamed freely over his shoulders, his back, his taut buttocks. His flesh felt warm and alive beneath her fingertips. His manhood stirred restlessly against her stomach and a moan slipped past her lips. She loved this special man with all her heart and soul and despaired that she could not announce it to the world, or even to Drake. She had not the right to love the Black Knight when she belonged to another.
Suddenly she went still. Her fingers had encountered raised places on his back and shoulders that should not have been there. “Turn around, Drake.”
He looked at her askance. “Why?”
“Your back . . .”
“ ’Tis not important.”
“It is to me. Turn around.”
Reluctantly he presented his back. A cry of dismay slipped past her lips as she gazed at the raw ridges crisscrossing his flesh.
“He beat you!” she cried. “Waldo beat you. And look at your face.” She hadn’t mentioned it before, but she could no longer contain her anger at what had been done to him by her husband. Then she noted other injuries that had escaped her notice before.
“Your eyes and lips are swollen and your skin is covered with bruises. Did I not see you unwind a bandage from your middle before you entered the water? What else did Waldo do to you?”
“Everything will heal,” Drake insisted.
“You had broken ribs?”
“God’s blood, Raven, I said ’tis naught. A cracked rib or two will not kill me. The bruises on my face are from a beating; so are the welts on my back. Now you know everything.”
“I hate him!” Raven sobbed. “He is a monster. ’Tis my fault he hurt you.”
“Forget Waldo, sweeting. Let me wash you before we both freeze to death.”
Cupping the cake of soap in his palm, he made a rich lather and spread it over Raven’s body. The water was cold, but Drake’s hands quickly warmed her flesh as they skimmed over every inch of her, from her forehead to the tips of her toes. She was trembling with desire by the time he had rinsed the soap off her and asked her to dunk her head so he could soap her hair.
“I can do it.”
“Nay, let me.”
Her breathing quickened and she closed her eyes as his hands moved gently through her hair. Then he helped her to sit so she could dip her head into the water to remove the soap.
“Your turn,” Raven said, taking the soap from his hand. “Turn around so I can scrub your back.” When he hesitated, she said, “I promise not to hurt you.”
“Pain is not what I am feeling right now,” Drake said in a voice made husky with need. He grasped her hand and brought it to his groin. “I want you, Raven. It has been too long. I need to be inside you, to feel your heat surrounding me.”
Her hand closed around him. He was hard as rock; his erection rose high and proud from the dark hair between his legs. She shivered, but not from cold. She wanted to experience the ecstasy of his loving again before he was taken from her.
“I want you, too,” Raven said. “But first I will bathe you.” She ran the soap over his chest and was moving toward his loins when he grasped her hand.
“Nay. I will do it myself. ’Tis cold. Dry yourself in the sun. I will join you when I am finished.”
Reluctantly Raven surrendered the soap and waded to the grassy bank. She found the blankets Drake had brought and used one to dry herself. Then she sat down in a patch of sunshine and watched Drake bathe. Her hungry gaze roamed over his body, and she thought that he had lost weight. His body was whipcord lean, his muscles and tendons more prominent beneath his flesh than she recalled. She agonized over the bruises and scars and thanked God that Drake was a strong man with a warrior’s honed body.
Drake finished his bath and joined Raven. “I will build a fire so you can sit before it and dry your hair.”
“Are you not cold?” Raven asked as he draped his blanket over her shoulders.
“Nay, I am used to the cold.”
It did not take long for Drake to gather dry wood for the fire, and soon a cheery blaze was burning in the firepit. Raven retrieved her comb and brush from the pocket of her soiled tunic and moved closer to the fire. She spread out her hair and lazily drew the brush through her long chestnut locks.
Drake sat down behind her, drawing her into the vee of his legs. Then he took the brush from her hand and slowly ran it through the tangles.
“You have beautiful hair,” he whispered against her ear. “Like fine silk.”
“You are very good at this,” Raven remarked.
“ ’Tis not all I am good at.”
His voice was raw with sensuality, somewhat husky, and, oh, so arousing. He shoved her hair to one side and kissed her nape. Raven trembled with anticipation. Impatiently he pushed aside the blankets covering her and trailed fiery kisses down her spine, down to the crease separating the twin cheeks of her buttocks. He nipped her there, then licked his way back to her nape.
“Your skin is as smooth as cream and tastes delicious.” His arms came around her, molding her against him. He touched her full breasts and rubbed his fingers over her nipples until they were achingly erect. His hands slid lower, over her rib cage, lower still, pressing against her throbbing womanhood.
She felt his rampant arousal pushing against her bottom and tried to turn in his arms. But Drake would not let her; he held her securely in place and spread her legs apart. When his talented fingers found the slick folds of her sex, Raven went limp.
“I love the way you weep for me,” Drake murmured against her hair. “I want to plea
sure you first with my hands, then with my mouth. When you are screaming your pleasure, I am going to thrust myself inside you and take us both to paradise.”
His words bathed her insides with hot liquid, flooding his fingers with damp heat. His fingers penetrated her and she moaned. While one hand tantalized from below, the other teased her nipples. Her heart pounded, her blood congealed in her veins. The movement of his talented hands, so intensely arousing, sent her hurtling over the edge. She screamed his name and collapsed against him.
Drake let her rest a few minutes; then he laid her down upon the blankets. Raven stared up at him, her green eyes glazed with passion. She had no idea what Drake was going to do next but she did not want to stop him. He seemed in no hurry as he stretched out beside her and devoted long, tender minutes to her mouth, kissing and licking and exploring with his tongue.
“I dreamed of loving you like this while I lay in the dungeon,” Drake rasped against her lips. “I feared I would never hold you in my arms again, that the dungeon would become my tomb.”
“I knew you would not die,” Raven replied. “ ’Tis not like you to give up. I prayed for your life, and God answered my prayer.”
Drake paused for a long, thoughtful moment, then said, “I have no right to claim you, sweeting. But if I could—” His sentence ended abruptly but his meaning dangled between them.
Raven placed a finger against his lips. “Please, make no declarations. It would be wrong. ’Tis enough right now that we are together. Our fate is in God’s hands.”
Though Raven knew not how God would punish her, she did know that neither God nor the church condoned adultery.
“Aye,” Drake agreed. “We are together now.” His grim reply did little to comfort Raven. He had to know that one day they must part.
He kissed her mouth, then worked his way down her body to that place where her heat was centered. His eyes darkened as he spread her thighs and gazed at her. Raven gave a startled gasp when he thrust his face into the vee between her legs and kissed her there. Using his thumbs, he separated the folds of her pouting nether lips and wet her with his tongue.
Connie Mason Page 20