“You cannot imagine how horrible it was to be in that cabin with those women,” she said as she and Morvan pulled ahead of the others. “They talked without stopping for three days.”
“Women are often like that.”
“I hope not like this. They spoke about men like they were stud stallions.”
He didn't seem at all impressed by this revelation.
“They talked about you, for example.”
He colored a bit. “And what did the lady say?”
“I was too sick to catch all of it, and understood even less, but I probably saved your life. They were going to find your berth one night. I'd gathered that Martha's husband told his knights to keep a close watch on her, so I discouraged their little adventure.”
“Did you? How?”
She had done it by telling Martha that Morvan was impotent from a war wound. He probably wouldn't like that. “It doesn't matter. Can you imagine the trouble if those knights had found both those women with you?”
“Both?”
“Aren't you listening? I said they were going to come. I'll have to get Catherine to explain that to me. But you came close to being in great danger.”
“How fortunate for my virtue that you were there,” he said dryly. “Actually, if Lady Martha had been so bold she would have had the surprise of finding two of the knights playing draughts with me. They are indeed watching her closely, and the lady faces an unpleasant meeting with her husband. She was supposed to return from Bordeaux by the Nativity.”
“I think that she is not a good woman.”
“I know that she is not. Her husband's knights know more than the lord himself. The knights in a household always know such things. She has only to bed one and all others, present and future, learn of her availability.”
“Indeed? Then Ascanio was right and you were playing loose with my reputation those nights in my chamber.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Or perhaps it wasn't your intention to bed me at all.”
He suddenly looked as if he would prefer to be somewhere else.
“If it was, you also lied.” That startled him anew. She was half serious and half teasing, and enjoying his discomfort. “I have learned a thing or two, you see. I took your advice and have asked Catherine about these things. And it seems that when you said that you wouldn't hurt me, you were lying.”
A small smile broke. “That was a metaphor. At such moments men are apt to speak thus. Their words have a broader, symbolic meaning. It is a point of rhetoric.”
“Rhetoric, no less. I am impressed. But I think that you were lying so that you could seduce me.”
“And I think that you have been talking to Catherine too much.”
She shrugged. “We had many hours to fill while I was abed with my wound. I am a grown woman and can't help but be curious. Besides, it clearly isn't safe to be as ignorant as I have been.” She shot him a look full of meaning.
And saw that it had been a mistake to speak of this, even in jest. There flashed in his eyes a flame that she hadn't seen since the battle.
She had to meet his gaze, of course. She had never been able not to. How quickly the mood between her and this man could change. One moment merry friendship, and then a word, a gesture, and suddenly the old intimacy tugged, as if he sought to pull out a part of her that no one was ever supposed to know. She had built a wall around her attraction to him, but it was made of wood, not stone, and he could burn it at will with the fire in his eyes.
By the time they stopped to rest, dark clouds filled the sky and the wind bit colder. They sat with the men and planned their stop for the night. Gregory and the others wanted to camp, not trusting any town or abbey to be free of plague.
They approached Winchester before dark. The men set up camp off the road while Morvan took her to see the town. He explained how it had been the capital of the great King Alfred many centuries ago. He described the battles fought by Alfred against the Danes, and how he held on to his kingdom of Wessex even as the other Saxon rulers fell.
Night was falling when they finally left the town and made their way down the road to the camp.
Morvan was glad that Anna had insisted on the overland route. During the nights at sea he had been acutely aware of time slipping by. If King Edward and the duke agreed to Anna's petition, she would be gone soon. On the return journey he would deliver her to Saint Meen. The melancholy he had felt as he contemplated that had surprised him.
He had no trouble picturing her at the abbey, extending her influence as the nuns turned to her for advice and judgment. He could imagine her reorganizing the abbey stores, improving the estate economy, and resolving internal conflicts. Ascanio had been right. These images came more naturally than the others, of her immured in some man's home and submissive in some man's bed.
He had tried to get Ascanio to escort her to England, but it had been a halfhearted effort. He couldn't give up this time with her. He had carefully denied himself her presence since the night after the battle, when, seeing her petulant and restless in her bed, his desire had again vanquished his resolve. The pleasure of this day, of her friendship and confidences, had gone far to dispel the shadow of loss that he saw when he looked at her.
The camp had been set up in a clearing in the trees and a large fire roared in the center. Anna dismounted and went to warm herself.
Gregory approached Morvan to take his horse. “The captain gave us some meat, and we'll be cooking it soon.”
Morvan surveyed the camp. “Where are the lady's things?”
Gregory crooked his finger. They walked across the clearing to some bushes and pushed through them. Anna's and his bags rested beside a low fire on the other side.
“We thought that she would like some privacy,” Gregory explained. “It wouldn't do for her to be right in with the men, would it, if it can be avoided? They prefer it this way too.”
And of course, someone must be there to guard her. He could assign that task to Gregory. It was what he should do, but he knew that he would not.
They ate their meal at the main fire. Anna said little, but she appeared at ease as the soldiers swapped stories of humorous battle mishaps. He watched her hold her own in the company of men, as she always did. When the night wore on and the first head nodded, she rose silently and disappeared through the bushes.
Morvan finished a conversation, then sat for a few minutes more before following her.
She sat by the fire swaddled in her cloak, hugging her knees to her chest. She glanced at him as he came through the bushes. To anyone else it would have appeared a casual look, but he knew her too well. He felt her awareness that it was night and that they were alone and the other camp might as well be miles away.
He took his knife and cut an armful of evergreen boughs, after which he brought them back and made two piles on either side of the fire. Then he opened his bags and pulled out a fur to cover his boughs and a long cloak to use as a blanket. She began to do the same.
“We will reach Windsor tomorrow. The court is probably there, but I think that we should go on to London before trying to see the duke.” He spoke casually. Her face betrayed little, but he could feel that she was on her guard. He could sense her fear—but it was a virgin's fear, full of wary expectation. It aroused him, and he knew from the way she avoided looking at him that she was not immune to it either. The night's possibilities hung in the air. “For one thing, we need to get rid of the horses and can stable them at the market there. And I want to see my sister first. She and her husband have a house in Windsor that perhaps you can use.”
He built up the fire, then settled himself on the bed he had made. She watched him, as if wanting to be sure that he would stay there.
* * *
The wind woke him. It howled through the clearing and scattered the low embers of the fire. He pulled his cloak to his body and stood up. The storm that had stopped them at Southampton was coming inland, bringing with it a bitter cold that
numbed his limbs.
He threw more wood on the fire. It burst into a roaring blaze, but the wind grabbed the warmth and whirled it away. He peered at Anna. She was huddled on her side with her face to the fire and her legs drawn up to her chest. She was shivering in her sleep, and her lips looked pale.
He walked over to the bushes and looked at the other camp. The storm must have woken them too, for new logs crackled. He saw only two large forms near the fire instead of five, since the men had sensibly moved together for additional warmth.
He went to his bag and pulled out a long furlined cloak. He picked up the coverings from where he had slept and kicked the boughs around to the other side of the fire, then roughly scattered them near Anna's shivering back. When he had lain down beside her, he spread the fur cloak over them both and waited for her body to stop shaking.
CHAPTER 13
ANNA STIRRED BEFORE DAWN. It was bitter outside the cozy huddle of blankets and furs.
In her waking stupor she gradually became aware of the weight and warmth behind her. She felt the arm wrapped around her from the back, its hand resting peacefully on her bound breast. A lower pressure claimed her attention. Morvan in his sleep had tangled his right leg amidst hers so that she practically sat on his thigh. The warmth of his closeness swept over her lazy senses and she closed her eyes to savor the surprising comfort it gave her.
She couldn't disentangle herself without waking him. She tried to go back to sleep, and when that failed she opened her eyes to await the dawn. At last, the first light began to seep through the trees.
Suddenly his hand and leg pulled away. With a quick movement, he flipped her. She found herself on her back, looking up into blazing black eyes.
“You are finally awake,” she said, beginning to sit.
He pushed her down and moved his body over hers, resting on his forearms with his face mere inches from her own. His thick hair was mussed from sleep and she could read every plane of his handsome face by the light of the embers and early dawn: the firm line of his jaw, the slight hollows of his cheeks, the straight feathering of his brow. His expression looked serious and thoughtful. The fur cloak around his shoulders spread out to cover them both.
“I have been awake awhile.” Two of his fingers lifted a strand of her curls to tease his severe mouth. “Imagine my surprise to find that I had embraced you during the night, and that you on wakening had not pushed me away.”
Heat began to flush her limbs. “I thought that you were sleeping and didn't want to wake you,” she said, making a vain effort to push him away now.
“Even with my hand on your breast and my thigh between yours? You are most considerate.” He brushed her mouth with his. “You have been curious about these things of late, Anna. Just how curious are you?”
“You moved yourself here. Do not blame me now for an accident of the night.”
“It was cold and you were freezing. Even the soldiers sleep thus at the other fire.” He spoke lowly into her ear as his teeth found her lobe. His breath sent shivers through her. She could not hide her reaction. He looked into her eyes and burned away her objections with the flame of his gaze.
The weight of his chest pinned her and his forearms immobilized her. He pulled open her cloak at the neck and lowered his head, finding the pulse with his mouth. He gently bit his way up the side of her neck. Wonderful chills spiraled down her body, creating a throbbing beat low in her belly. His mouth reached hers and he kissed her deeply as he held her head with his hands, his tongue caressing her insistently until a breathless moan escaped her.
“You don't protest. It occurs to me that you never have. It is left to me to act the saint for your saintly sake, but I am not made of stone.”
She should protest—her mind knew it. But the voice of reason had become a mere whisper, drowned out by triumphant pleasure. The part of her that wanted this, that coiled with tense anticipation, was grateful for her weakness.
He kissed her again, slow and hard, and she accepted it and responded in kind. He shifted off her. Through the fog of pleasure she felt his hand push aside the disheveled layers of her cloak and loosen the ties down the front of her surcotte. He unbuckled her belt and slid his hand down her leg to find the tunic's hem.
“What are you doing?” She lifted her head and shoulders in surprise even as her arm, free now, reached up to encircle his shoulder.
“Hush.” He laid her down again. He seductively kissed her cheek, her temple, her throat while his hand worked its way through the layers of clothes that separated them. “Do not worry. I would not take a virgin on a cold winter ground with five others just thirty paces away.”
His hand pushed up her tunic and shirt until it found the bare skin of her stomach. He caressed her with rough fingers, and his eyes closed with his own reaction. When they reopened she saw a look which would have made her very worried had she not been on a cold winter ground with five others nearby. But the convulsive shocks of pleasure drove any fear from her mind.
He stroked the silk scarf that bound her breasts. “You make a man work hard.” His hand closed on her through the silk. A small sound came from her throat. He traced around and found the tie under her arm. The silk layers loosened and he pushed them away until her breasts were free.
He looked down while he gently stroked around their swells, the thrilling pleasure peaking sharply whenever his hand grazed her nipples. He began playing carefully with those hard points, deliberately summoning helpless sighs from her. Anxious need claimed her. Her body moved without her consent and arched toward his hand.
He lowered his head. She watched wide-eyed as his tongue and lips began to arouse her the way his fingers had. Sharp excitement shot through her again and again. His tongue whisked and grazed her before his mouth took her breast in a more demanding way.
Thundering desire pounded in her. She grabbed at his shoulders in a vain effort to release the mounting madness. A living hollow ached inside her, desperate to be filled. He thrust his knee between her legs, pressing upward, and that only made it worse, more concentrated, a physical yearning that was both torture and delicious pleasure. His kisses and caresses demanded that she crave more, until that primitive hunger was all that mattered.
A moan escaped her and he swallowed the sound in his mouth. His hands abruptly left her. He wrapped his arms around her, his face smothered in her neck and hair. Her body screamed with resentment at the withdrawal of pleasure, but he calmed her with soothing kisses as he pulled her clothes down around her body.
They lay in each other's arms while little arrows of heat and desire kept piercing her, defeating her attempts to be grateful he had shown restraint. Slowly she became aware of the breaking day around them, and the cold on her face, and the noises from the other camp. The last startled her. She raised her head to glance at the bushes.
He must have heard. That was why he had stopped.
“They are just rising,” he reassured her.
“We must rise too,” she said reluctantly, not anxious to leave the warmth of his arms. She was embarrassed now, and afraid to look at him.
He stood and helped her up, then draped the long cloak around her. “Go into the trees and right yourself.”
A cold drizzle started as the storm finally made its way inland. Huddled under cloaks and oiled canvas capes, they plodded along roads made treacherous by mud and water.
Morvan found himself in a black mood. The lack of fulfillment had provoked a devilish irritation. It was made worse by the presence on the horse beside him of the woman he wanted.
He had no doubt that she would have yielded this morning. He tried not to think about it, but she was right there, reacting to his mood with her damned calm reserve. When he looked at her he saw her beneath him, eyes closed and face flushed with passion, moving herself into his caress, gasping in surprise, joining him in the wondrous pleasure. He knew that the memories were not just with him, but with her also, hanging silently between them, calling for attention. And com
pletion.
At midday they found protection beneath some trees to rest the horses and take some food. Gregory sought him out.
“We can't camp tonight. It will still be raining, and could turn to snow. We should find some shelter.”
“Windsor will be crowded if the court is there. We will stop at Reading, just to the west. I know the family at a manor house nearby and they will take the horses and the men. It will only be a barn, but it will be dry.”
“And the lady?”
“I will take her into Reading and find her an inn.” He looked up and saw Gregory's wary expression. So, his friend had guessed the reason for his mood. “Then I will return and join you.”
As the journey continued Anna once again rode alone beside a big, dark cloud of a man.
Except for one warm smile when she'd emerged from the trees this morning, Morvan had been full of nothing but brooding silence. Something dangerous and predatory emanated from him. That she was the source of his mood was all too clear from the looks he gave her. She felt like a sparrow being eyed by a falcon, and she didn't like it.
“You are angry,” she said.
“I am not,” he replied, but his brittle tone said that he was. “I merely find myself wondering why a woman bound for the convent would tempt a man. I wonder what you want of me.”
“Do not be ridiculous. I wouldn't know how to tempt a man.”
“You managed well enough this morning for one so innocent. There are limits to what can be expected of me, no matter what my resolve and honor.”
He was blaming her.
“I did not embrace you. I did not kiss you and push you down on the ground.”
“Nor did you stop me, or make the smallest protest. Do you understand that you would not still be a maid if the others had not woken?”
Did she understand that? Had she believed him when he said that wouldn't happen? She couldn't remember caring too much about it. “I could not stop you.”
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