He dipped the cloth again and moved closer to Rosamunda. Paulina reached up to take the cloth from him. For some reason she did not want him to wash her sister’s face. Their fingers touched. A strange tingling raced up the back of her thighs. “Thank you, Denis. I will take care of my sister.”
He came to his feet and shrugged. “As you wish.”
She trailed the wet cloth down her neck as she watched him walk away. Despite the chill of the night air, she suddenly felt very warm.
* * *
Denis strode away, willing his insistent erection to subside. Someone was sure to notice the bulge in his leggings. Thank goodness it was dark. He should never have touched Paulina. It had not been his intention, but desire swept over him when her eyelashes fluttered closed. The vision of her perfect little body lying in a tub of soapy water had him hot and bothered. The brief touch of her fingers was his complete undoing.
He was angry. He had realized years ago that he was destined to be a lifelong bachelor. Besides, Adam needed him now. His brother could never marry. This sudden infatuation with Paulina had to stop. He was taken with her because she matched him in height. Ridiculous! He was deformed, she was tiny. There was no reason on earth why she should have feelings for him.
And what of her sister? Why was Paulina protective of her? As far as Denis could see she had no deformity. Why had she been incarcerated? He had mentioned it briefly to Adam while they were hastily retrieving their belongings, but his brother had shrugged off the question and stalked out of the chamber.
* * *
Rosamunda chafed whenever she lost sight of Adam de Montbryce. The story of the rescue of Devona Melton had formed an image of the heroic Montbryces in her mind. Adam was its living embodiment.
She admired his immediate offer of shelter at East Preston. It was a relief they would not be exposed to the elements for more than one night. She was at once filled with elation and apprehension—she was going to his home, or at least to the place he lived when he was in England. He was a true Norman. His father had apparently fought in the Battle of Hastings, but had returned to Normandie after the conquest of England.
Rosamunda and her siblings belonged to the second generation of her family born in England. But she was a descendant of Normans, proud of the oft-told tales of the Conqueror and his people who had brought fine architecture, good government, culture and refinement to the Saxon people of England.
But she had never visited Normandie, only gazed out her window, longing to see its distant shores. Her brothers had been allowed to travel to their ancestral homeland and she and her sister had enjoyed the tales of their journeys.
As if conjured by her thoughts, Vincent touched her arm. “Let’s get you and Paulina into the stables.”
Exhausted, they made their way to an empty horse stall, where they curled up together in the straw. Vincent covered them with blankets.
Rosamunda dozed fitfully, dreaming of listening to Adam de Montbryce’s deep voice as they rode together through the green fields and forests of Normandie.
She was free at last.
Nox
The next morning, Paulina pouted, feeling like a petulant child. “You can’t stay here, Vincent. You must accompany us. We are unused to people and at East Preston we will be among strangers.”
Her brother hunkered down to embrace her. “Lucien and I must see to the burial of our parents and make plans for rebuilding. Adam and Denis are honorable men. They will treat you as their sisters. We will join you in a few days.”
She had an urge to blurt out that she did not want to be treated as Denis de Sancerre’s sister. His hungry gaze after the rescue had made her feel desirable for the first time in her life. “We should stay for the burial.”
Vincent recognized this suggestion for the half-hearted ploy it was. “That’s not a good idea. You would endanger your mortal soul by wishing maman consigned to hell.”
Paulina sulked, further infuriated by Rosamunda’s sly grin. She plucked straw from her sister’s hair. “What is funny?”
Rosamunda rubbed her hands together gleefully, then pointed to the sun peeking over the horizon. “Sunrise.”
Paulina’s mouth fell open. Fear held her in its thrall, whereas her sister was already enjoying the first taste of what freedom might mean. “It’s beautiful,” she admitted.
Lucien came up behind the threesome gazing at the dawn’s early glow. “I’ve made a space in one of the wagons for you.”
Paulina whirled around. “A wagon? With the servants?”
Her brother took a step back. “How else will you get to East Preston?”
Paulina stamped her foot again, tears welling. She would not feel comfortable sitting in a wagon full of gawking servants. “Why can Rosamunda and I not ride?”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “How can you ride, sister? You have no horse.”
Without thinking, she blurted out, “But I could ride behind Denis de Sancerre.”
Rosamunda blushed.
Lucien groaned.
Vincent scratched his head. “Ladies do not ride astride, Paulina. You cannot ride behind him in a nightshift and bliaut.”
“In front then. I can sit on his lap,” she countered.
Lucien shifted his weight nervously.
Vincent coughed into his fist.
Paulina gritted her teeth. “I will not ride with the servants, and neither will Rosamunda.”
* * *
A warm glow shivered its way from Rosamunda’s core to the tips of her toes and thence up her spine to the top of her head and back by way of her breasts. If Paulina rode with Denis, Adam might allow her to ride with him.
She did not want to travel with the servants but would have complied if necessary. The possibility of being held again in Adam’s arms made her heart flutter as she watched her brothers stalk off, clearly uncomfortable.
She took her sister’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”
Paulina frowned. “For what?”
Rosamunda’s body heated further when she glanced up to see Adam de Montbryce striding towards them, leading a black horse. He did not look happy. She gasped and looked quickly at her sister.
Paulina suddenly smiled. “Now I understand. If I ride with Denis, you ride with—”
* * *
Adam was beset with conflicting emotions. Rosamunda filled his thoughts despite the frenzied business of making arrangements for the move to East Preston, and helping Vincent and Lucien oversee the storage of valuables in the weaving shed.
Vincent’s discomfort with the request for his sisters to ride with him and Denis was palpable. Adam’s heart soared at the prospect of holding Rosamunda in his arms again. But then the memory of his body’s inadequacy stabbed him in the gut.
He could not expect a beautiful young woman to commit to a man incapable of consummating a marriage. He was thinking too far ahead in any case. She would want to enjoy her newfound freedom. He gripped the reins, gathering his resolve. “I think it best if you travel—”
He became fixated on a sliver of straw clinging to Rosamunda’s disheveled hair. Her lower lip quivered and tears welled in her eyes. She gathered the blanket more tightly at her throat.
His resolve deserted him. He held out his hand. “If you are to ride with me, you must be introduced to Nox. He looks fearsome, but he’s a loyal friend.”
She moved forward hesitantly. Nox was big and as black as his name. It occurred to Adam she may never have seen a horse before. He put his palm under the stallion’s nose, encouraging her to do the same.
Rosamunda looked uncertainly at her sister, then at the horse. Adam plucked the straw from her hair, taking her by the hand. She looked up at him sharply. The brief glint in her green eyes told him she too had felt the spark that passed between them.
She clutched his sleeve, nervously offering her free hand to the beast, snorting a giggle when Nox licked her. Her nervous amusement rippled through Adam’s body. His heart skipped a beat, but nothing sti
rred between his legs.
He would have preferred she ride astride behind him, but her bliaut rendered it impossible, as well as unseemly. “I will help you mount. Don’t be afraid.”
* * *
Adam must not see her fear. He may change his mind. “Not afraid,” she mouthed, shaking her head for emphasis.
Communicating with family members was easy. The prospect of making herself understood to strangers was daunting. It eased her worry that Adam watched her mouth closely, considerate of her muteness.
He stood close enough she could smell the faint remnants of smoke clinging to him.
He looked at her intently. “May I touch you?”
She swayed and licked her lips, hoping the strange tautness of her nipples was not evident.
Paulina coughed.
With one arm around her, the other under her thighs, Adam lifted her effortlessly. “Put your arms around my neck. Hold on tightly.”
She complied, her heart racing. She supposed it was because she was unused to men.
Before she could blink, she was sitting in the saddle, holding on for dear life, her feet dangling. The ground was a long way down. Fear coiled in her belly, but then Adam’s long slender fingers steadied her waist while he grasped the pommel with his other hand.
He bent his long leg to put his booted foot in the stirrup and in one easy motion brought his body up, then swung his other leg over the horse’s broad back, and eased her onto his lap.
His lithe grace took her breath away. She was tempted to ask him to do it again, but he would deem her an imbecile. Perhaps all men were accomplished in such things.
His mastery over the horse was awesome. She felt like the damsel in Lucien’s stories whose knight has come to her rescue.
His thighs were solid, his arm firm around her waist. She leaned back against him as the fear lessened. With her head on his chest, she bent her knees so the bliaut covered her bare ankles.
Nox moved back a step or two, sending shivers of fright rushing up and down her spine once more.
Watching from the safety of the courtyard, Paulina gasped, eyes wide, hands pressed to her mouth.
Adam tightened his hold. The heat of his arms penetrated through the layers of Rosamunda’s clothing, his heartbeat thudded in her ears.
She laughed, pointing to herself as she bravely touched Nox’s mane. “I’m on a horse, Paulina,” she mouthed.
Adam made a clicking sound with his teeth. The muscles in his thighs flexed against her derrière. Sweat trickled between her breasts.
“Lentement, Nox. We don’t want to frighten Rosamunda.”
The stallion nodded its head and walked slowly towards the rampart ditch that surrounded three sides of the house. The movement caused her to rock back and forth in Adam’s lap. She hoped she wasn’t hurting him.
They rode past Denis as he led his horse in Paulina’s direction. Adam greeted him. The dwarf acknowledged the greeting, but the scowl did not leave his ugly face.
The Narrow Sea
Adam understood how Denis felt. Indeed, it would be worse for him if Paulina sat on his lap. His half-brother’s shaft never had a problem rising to an occasion such as this.
Rosamunda seemed to be getting used to being on Nox. He increased the horse’s gait slightly. She looked up at him and smiled, letting him see she was enjoying this new adventure.
It was a relief that he did not have to hear what she said. But here he was with a stunningly beautiful and desirable woman rocking back and forth on his lap, and he felt—absolutely nothing.
That was not strictly true. He had a strong urge to cup his hand under one of Rosamunda’s breasts—just to see how it felt. He glanced down. The bulky nightshift stretched her bliaut tight. Her breasts protested the confinement. He might not have the wherewithal to make love with his shaft, but his tongue could bring pleasure to those pouting nipples.
Adam had prized his virginity, but that did not mean he was ignorant of how to please a female. He had learned much from Denis who was never shy to boast of his prowess. Tongues and fingers could bring great pleasure.
Would a young woman be satisfied with that kind of lovemaking? Perhaps, but she would want children—an impossibility for him now.
He was drawn to this muette. In different circumstances, he would have pursued her.
But there was no future in it. Better to remain aloof. A man would come along who could fulfill all her needs.
Perhaps he was drawn to her because she was mute and he was deaf.
She turned to look at him again. She stuck out her bottom lip and frowned, rocking her head from side to side. “Are you angry?”
He shrugged. Angry? The word seemed inadequate. Bereft…lonely…cheated…useless. “Non, I’m not angry, simply concerned about you and your sister.”
She touched his face. “Thank you.”
His heart beat erratically. He gathered her closer to his chest. “Rest. You must be exhausted. Nox will get us to East Preston safely.”
She relaxed in his arms as they reached the boundary of the Kingston Gorse estate. He paused to wait for Denis before beginning the journey along the coastal path. He thought she had fallen asleep, but then a raucous seagull caught her attention. She sat bolt upright and became agitated, pointing to the edge of the cliff, gripping his arm.
Nox pricked up his ears.
Adam patted the horse, soothing him. Her movements were making the stallion nervous. “What’s amiss?”
Eyes bright with excitement, she pointed frantically to the water. “Stop! Stop! I want to see the sea.”
* * *
Rosamunda held her breath as Adam edged Nox closer to the cliff’s edge. At last, she was about to set eyes on the waters whose waves she had heard lapping beneath her prison all her life.
It was not what she expected. Grey, not blue. Cold, not warm. Murky, not clear. She could not see Normandie. She could barely see the wavelets breaking along the mist-shrouded shore.
Yet, it elated her. She inhaled deeply and turned to look at Adam. “The Narrow Sea.”
“It’s known as the Narrow Sea,” he said.
It was understandable he would not know what she had intended. She was used to her sister and brothers comprehending everything she wanted to express, but it would be different with others.
She mouthed back his words.
He stared at her lips, then smiled, something he didn’t do often. The unexpected gleam it brought to his usually guarded eyes took her breath away. She looked back at the water.
“On a clear day, you can see my homeland.”
She took a deep breath. Homeland. The land of her ancestors. She longed to tell him of her wish to visit Normandie, but such an explanation would involve hand gestures and sounds that might make him think her demented. Paulina would have understood, but Adam de Montbryce had no experience conversing with a muette.
* * *
It occurred to Adam that though Rosamunda was from a Norman family, she had been born in England and because of her incarceration had probably never been to Normandie.
She leaned against him, seemingly content to gaze at the sea. He wished he could see her face instead of the top of her head. “Normandie is a beautiful place, though there is great turmoil between the factions of the newly-crowned King Henry and his brother, Robert Curthose. The Duke of Normandie thinks the throne of England should be his.”
She did not turn to reply. It pained him that he was deaf, but the irony was she could make no sounds, none that he could understand anyway, without watching her lips carefully.
To his surprise, the notion appealed to him. She had a lovely mouth—kissable, seductive, the corners always tilted slightly upwards. He reined in the thought. No more kissing maidens for Adam.
He held an innocent who had been locked away, making her more vulnerable than other young women. She would need protection. Her parents were dead, her brothers tasked with the rebuilding of Kingston Gorse. He must not pursue her, but he could p
rotect her until the right man came along. He would safeguard her at East Preston, perhaps take her to Normandie.
It was a foolish notion, yet—“Would you like to visit Normandie?”
She turned to look at him. Her radiant face outshone the rays of the sun. “Oui,” she breathed.
His heart leaped into his throat as their eyes locked. He had an urge to lick away the tears of obvious joy that welled in her eyes. It was the first time since his illness he had felt stirrings of desire in his heart, though his manhood remained dormant. At least his heart could love, if his body could not.
Love?
He shifted his weight in the saddle and looked away to where Denis was leading the wagons towards them. Adam was not sure who had the biggest scowl on their face, his brother or the tiny woman sitting on his lap.
A Comical Sight
At first, the brothers rode side by side. Denis and Paulina had apparently decided not to say a word to each other, and Rosamunda deemed conversation with Adam atop Nox too difficult.
Eventually, Denis dropped back to ride behind the carts as they made their way along the cliff-top path. Though well used by horses, it was narrow.
The servants from Kingston Gorse seemed to have recovered from the shock of the fire and were chatting as the carts jostled them along the rough path. Some speculated on the cause of the fire, and the presence of two women they had known nothing about. Rosamunda recognized Thomas and Agnès. Though the couple had never treated them with any affection, she was glad there would at least be two familiar faces at East Preston. Most were people she had never met.
She felt warm now the sun had risen higher and the heat of Adam’s body penetrated the early morning chill. There was something comforting about his scent. It reminded her of her brothers. She dozed, content to be out in the air.
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