The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1)

by Cecelia Mecca

  And she was in control.

  Relishing that fact, Sara moved her hand more quickly, sure he was on the verge of the same experience she’d felt when he’d pleasured her with his hands and mouth.

  “Oh God!” Geoffrey closed his eyes, tilting back his head. He reached for her, holding the nape of her neck as she guided him to a powerful climax.

  “Ahhh yes,” he cried as Sara felt an unexpected wetness. Looking down, she stared at her hand in surprise and awe. So, this was what happened when a man experienced pleasure? She barely had time to register it before Geoffrey grabbed her under both arms and carried her to his bed.

  Not knowing what to expect, she was startled when he climbed over her and forced her mouth open. His lips moved expertly over her own, gently nibbling and tasting. Her eyes were closed, so she felt rather than saw his hand moving toward her core. When his fingers thrust inside her, Sara pushed against them, remembering. The dual sensation of his tongue and fingers, which slipped so easily inside, was her undoing. Pushing against his hand, she felt the same incredible sensation as before. This time his naked chest rose and fell just above her own, his muscled back hard and hot under her fingertips. It was too much. With a cry Geoffrey muffled by closing his mouth around her own, Sara came beneath his fingers.

  He collapsed against her then, one arm draped around her chest, the other still between her legs as she continued to pulse beneath his touch.

  Geoffrey lay back on the linen covers, looking up at the posts of his fine four-poster bed, wondering what the hell had just happened. His eyes landed on Sara’s naked body, barely illuminated by the flickering candlelight. He’d thought about seeing her like this, of course—enough to almost drive him mad—but all his imaginings paled in comparison to the real thing.

  She was perfect.

  “You’re embarrassing me.”

  He ran his fingers upward from her thigh, grazing her breast, cupping the perfectly shaped mound. “You’re pleasing me.”

  Sara laughed, a melodic sound that made him smile. “I can see that.”

  “I was afraid I’d never hear that sound again.”

  She ignored the observation. “I find it hard to think when you do that.”

  “Do what, my lady?” His hand traced her breasts, then dipped between them, traveling across her abdomen and then over her hip.

  “You know very well, blackguard.”

  “Blackguard, is it? If I be a pirate, this must be me bounty.” He moved his hand over her black curls, cupping her as he leaned forward and took a firm nipple into his mouth.

  She pushed him away. “You can’t do that again already!”

  She had challenged the wrong man.

  His palm pressed against her, his finger teasing but not entering her. She pushed against his hand.

  “Come for me again, sweet Sara.”

  Lying on his side next to her, he continued to tease her with one hand while propping himself up with the other. He brought his mouth down to her ear and whispered, “What did you say?”

  Sara tilted her head back, licked her full lips, and wisely stayed silent.

  Not so easy.

  “Tell me,” he lowered his voice, “what can’t I do?”

  He slowly eased his finger inside her … and then stopped. When she tried to push her hips up to meet him, he withdrew.

  “Sara?”

  “Geoffrey, please.”

  “Please what?” he said, though now he was teasing both of them.

  “You can do it again. Please.”

  Not yet.

  “Aye, and I will.”

  He thrust his finger inside her again as he kissed the sensitive flesh behind her ear. This time he met her thrust with one of his own. Her breathing was heavy, and it wasn’t long before he once again felt her throbbing around his fingers. He was ready to explode.

  He concentrated instead on watching Sara’s face. She opened her eyes and looked into his own.

  “My amorous little minx.”

  “My knight in shining armor.” She traced the scar along the side of his face.

  A shiver ran down his body that had nothing to do with sexual pleasure.

  “What are we to do?”

  He knew neither of them wanted to consider the honest answer to that question—but he wouldn’t lie to her.

  “There’s naught to do but savor tonight as a memory. A delicious,” he kissed her neck, “sensual,” he moved his mouth toward her breast, “tantalizing memory.” His mouth moved lower, kissing her stomach as his hands explored the luscious legs splayed on the bed where he had lain awake more nights than one imagining this very scenario.

  He considered bringing her to climax with his mouth, but her eyes were closed when he glanced up to gauge her reaction. Sara was exhausted. The incident with Randolf seemed days ago, but in truth her life had been in danger just a few hours earlier.

  His countess needed sleep. After giving her a final soft kiss on the lips, he scooped her up as if she were a feather pillow and carried her toward the door.

  Sara came awake then, horrified.

  “You don’t mean to carry me into the hall like this!”

  “Aye, and why not? ‘Tis a most glorious state of undress if you ask me.”

  Placing her on her feet next to the discarded chemise, he reached down and grabbed the slip of silk. It was as fine a fabric as he’d ever touched.

  He kept letting himself forget, but Sara was a lady of the realm. A noble with lands scattered throughout England. He was the son of a baron whose birthright had been stripped from him. A thief and a blackguard.

  Unworthy. You never should have touched her.

  Though he’d intended to slip the chemise over her head, Geoffrey handed it to her instead.

  Sara slipped into the fine piece of silk. When she reached the door, she peeked into the hall, glanced back, and gave Geoffrey her brightest smile and then disappeared into the night.

  Evidently she hadn’t noticed his changed mood. It was just as well. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face reality.

  18

  When Faye roused Sara from sleep, the sun was higher in the sky than normal. The thought of the day ahead was enough to make her groan. She would need to deal with Randolf’s men and the servant John this day, not to mention the uncertainty of her relationship with Geoffrey. She wished she could remain in the soft bed and told her maid as much.

  “You’re not often so slovenly, my lady. Missing morning mass? Talk of staying abed?”

  “If you’ll recall, I was held at knifepoint last eve by the man who attempted to wrest Kenshire from me. Mayhap this weary body can stay abed a few moments longer than usual?”

  Faye sat down next to her mistress, smoothing out her unkempt hair. “Aye, it can. I’m only teasing. You’ve done well, Sara. I overheard the men talking about how you handled Randolf. You’ve made them proud.”

  Smiling, Sara accepted the praise with her silence, something her father used to do. Sometimes, he’d say, silence was the best response.

  “Hugh and his nephew are stayin’ on a bit longer.”

  She’d heard that very news from Geoffrey last eve. It was hard not to show any reaction.

  How could she have ever thought him without morals? A thief, yes. But not by choice.

  Geoffrey was easily the most honorable man she knew, save her father. As Faye prepared her gown, Sara closed her eyes, thinking of last eve.

  A sudden feeling of melancholy pressed down on her.

  She’d fallen in love with a border reiver, but there was no way they could be together.

  Even if she were willing to risk a match that would put her people—and her father’s legacy—in jeopardy, the betrothal with Lyonsford was quite final. A broken betrothal with a man like him was no small thing. He could choose to attack out of vengeance. Or appeal to the king and have her title stripped from her. The outcome was uncertain, but she could be sure Lyonsford would not simply accept a reversal of their marriage agreeme
nt without a severe repercussion.

  With a strangled sound, she leapt up from the bed, frustrated and angry.

  “A tigress,” Faye said.

  Sara reluctantly smiled. “Aye, and ‘tis time to show Randolf’s men my claws.”

  If Faye was startled by her choice of words, she didn’t show it.

  “Good choice, Faye,” she said, looking down at the gown her maid had selected. The deep purple gown with its gold-embroidered surcoat was a perfect fit for her duties this morn. Randolf’s defeat was a cause for celebration. She had already ordered a thorough cleaning of the great hall, which reminded her… “Did you tell Cook to prepare a special dish at the evening meal?”

  “Aye,” Faye said as she helped Sara into the heavy gown. “I did, though she was confused when I asked her to make supper the highlight of the day.”

  The men and women at Kenshire deserved to rejoice, but there was much to do and Sara wanted no distractions. Their celebratory meal would have to wait until the evening. First, she had to deal with the unpleasant task of administering justice to the traitor. She would also have to arrange for Randolf’s body to be taken back to Meeringha and deal with the sheriff.

  Impatient now, she sat and waited for her hair to be dressed.

  As she finished brushing Sara’s long, thick tresses, the older woman said, “You look every inch the countess this morn.”

  “The breeches will have to wait.” She gave her maid a peck on the cheek on her way out the door.

  When Lady Sara Caiser walked into the great hall that morn, she looked every bit the conquering noble. The vixen who’d so eagerly responded to his touch last eve had been replaced with the self-assured countess he’d first met upon arriving at Kenshire. Geoffrey knew that she would administer justice for all of the crimes that had been committed in Kenshire. The decisions were hers alone to make, and she looked prepared to do just that.

  He watched the proceedings from his position across the hall. The trestle tables had been cleared and the prisoners stood, in shackles with guards, below the dais where Sara sat with her officers. Sara had asked him and Hugh to sit with her, but they agreed the people of Kenshire would benefit from seeing fewer people in charge. Better they focus on their lady.

  Geoffrey saw only the tops of the prisoners’ heads, with so many people crowded into the hall prepared to witness their lady’s administration of justice.

  “You look pleased with yourself,” Hugh said from beside him.

  He had to be more careful. There was no doubt his uncle suspected the connection between him and Lady Sara, and without Randolf’s threat to occupy Hugh, his perceptive eyes would be watching them more closely.

  “The scum believe they’ll receive mercy with a woman to hear their case.”

  Murmuring his agreement, Hugh watched as the men who once belonged to Sir Randolf were made to swear fealty to Lady Sara.

  Her strong, even voice carried to the back of the great hall.

  “Report to Lord Thornhurst at Camburg Castle. I’ve no desire for you to remain here among my people. Fail to do so and I will put every vassal to Caiser on alert. And know this—if you fail to arrive, you’ll be found and hung as traitors. That is my promise as Countess of Kenshire, daughter of the late Richard Caiser, third Earl of Kenshire.” Geoffrey reminded himself never to get on her bad side.

  As the men were escorted from the hall, Hugh grinned at his nephew.

  “If you knew the man, you’d appreciate the daughter.”

  Geoffrey held his tongue. His answer—“I do”—had almost slipped from his lips.

  She dealt next with John, who was dragged into the great hall in chains. The people of Kenshire loved their lady, just as they had loved her father before her. As the former cupbearer was led to the front of the hall, every foul name imaginable was hurled at him.

  “Enough!” Sara snapped, instantly putting a halt to the crowd’s antics.

  The proceedings continued, Sara explaining to the servant that he wasn’t entitled to the shire court as a freeman would have been. Though she was outwardly calm, he knew her well enough not to be fooled. Her eyes burned with fire.

  Would Lord Lyonsford appreciate how lucky he was? He didn’t know the man but was sure he didn’t deserve this jewel that stood in front of the hall.

  And you do?

  Landless and penniless, he could barely support his siblings, let alone bring anything of value to a marriage with a countess. He had nothing to offer except his desire for revenge. Even if he’d retained his station as eldest son to a minor border baron, she’d still be well out of his reach.

  The crowd erupted into cheers after Sara heard witnesses, precious few for John, and consulted with her steward. It was decreed that the servant would die a traitor’s death, no surprise to anyone, for the crime of conspiring to murder among a litany of other charges. Sara had decided to spare him a public execution, so the jeering spectators would have to make do with seeing the man taken away in chains. The impudent look on the man’s face made Geoffrey long to run him through.

  He was stopped by that tenacious voice in his head: She’s not yours.

  “Where are you going?” Hugh asked as Geoffrey began to push his way through the crowd.

  “The training yard.”

  He walked from the hall, long strides taking him to the one place he felt entirely at home. The shouts and clanging of swords were a much needed reminder of his real duty. To find men. To fight for what was his.

  This was where he belonged.

  Sara watched Geoffrey leave, staring at the spot where he had stood moments before. He might not be leaving yet, but he would no longer be at her heels now that Randolf’s threat was removed.

  The second scouting party arrived that morning to confirm what they already knew. The Earl of Covington was not bringing an army, nor had he ever supported Randolf’s claim. On their journey back to Kenshire, her men had learned that word was beginning to spread about her father’s death. Rumors about her tenuous position gave way to talk of Kenshire’s future.

  After the Baron’s War, questions of Henry III’s ability to tame the border still prevailed. She was glad for more reasons than one that Geoffrey would be staying at Kenshire.

  As she continued to stare at the spot Geoffrey had vacated, attempting to sort out her feelings, the dissipating crowd made way to allow Peter through. For the second time in a few short weeks, Sara found herself staring at a handsome stranger in her hall. With his dark hair and light eyes, he closely resembled the man she’d grown to love. It could only mean one thing.

  So this is the brother.

  Every female servant turned to stare at the newcomer, some obvious in their perusal, but the thing that interested Sara most about him was his connection to Geoffrey.

  He knelt on his right knee in greeting.

  “You are Sir Geoffrey’s brother,” she said, waving him upward.

  Though it wasn’t a question, he answered anyway. “Aye, my lady,” he said as he stood. “Sir Bryce Waryn at your service.”

  Peter formally introduced them.

  Hurry, Peter! She had so many questions.

  “Sir?” She was finally able to interject. “You are a knight?”

  “I am.”

  “I squired with Lord Huntington, a close friend of my father’s, and remained with his household until…”

  He stopped abruptly.

  “I imagine you want to see your brother.” Sara spared him the need to continue his story—she knew it did not end well—and stepped down from the dais to take the knight’s arm. Sir Bryce’s courtly manners weren’t lacking. She looked up, assessing the similarities and differences between the two brothers. The strong resemblance didn’t end with their hair and eyes. With the same high cheekbones and square jaw, Bryce could practically be his brother’s twin. But his demeanor was much sterner than that of his brother. Sara was sure this man had never smiled or laughed once in his life.

  She quickly revised that o
pinion moments later after learning Geoffrey’s whereabouts and leading his brother to the training yard. Though the gathering wasn’t quite as large a group as last time, there were more spectators than on a typical day. As soon as he saw the combatants—Geoffrey and Ralph, one of Sara’s retainers—the big man grinned.

  Her throat constricted as they watched the match. She had never enjoyed watching men train. While she knew sword training was both a serious endeavor and an ideal way for the men to build their strength, she typically avoided watching it. It seemed to her someone would be injured at any moment.

  Swords clashing, the warriors thrust and sliced at each other as if they were enemies in truth. Both men moved constantly, attempting never to be on the defensive. But Geoffrey’s skill and strength were remarkable, and it was only a matter of time before he disarmed his opponent.

  Geoffrey had hastened to end the match after glimpsing Sara from the corner of his eye. He was normally annoyed by any interruptions to his practice, but his pulse raced at the thought of her watching him train. Ending the match, he wiped the sweat from his face and began walking toward her.

  He stopped so suddenly, the servant who’d handed him a cloth to clean up with ran into him from behind.

  “Bryce?”

  Geoffrey closed the gap between them and engulfed his younger brother in an embrace, clapping him on the back.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Bryce gave him a rare smile. “That’s a fine greeting to give your little brother.”

  “Who’s protecting Emma and Neill?” he asked as the shock of seeing his brother at Kenshire began to wear off.

  “An interesting question,” Bryce said. “Lord Wellingstone paid a visit and was injured on a stag hunt. He and his men are currently recovering at Elmhurst.”

  “Ahhh, so the overlord comes to visit. You trust his knights to be well-behaved?”

  Bryce bristled at the slight criticism. “I’d not have left otherwise. And Uncle Simon is more than capable of watching our brother and sister, Geoffrey.”