And that, apparently, was the argument that pushed him over the edge for he threw his hands up in the air. “Enough, Alyna, enough. By the Virgin Mary, you can be a stubborn one, as stubborn as a dog holding a bone against its pack.”
She knew he teased her for she detected the note of mirth ringing through his words. Better yet, she had convinced him to accompany her.
A sudden surge of happiness made her breathless; she shook it off. She had no time to waste on such silliness. She and Warin were going to steal some time together.
“I’ll tell Gerard and Bennet.” She flashed him a smile. “And I’ll need to borrow your cloak again.”
Warin watched Alyna skip away like a small child following a jester. He snorted. What had he just agreed to? A tour of Caperun lands with Alyna as guide?
A grudging smile crept across his mouth. Alyna in full charm – eyes luminous with pleading, slender hands lifted, full lips puckered – was a sight to behold. A sight not to be denied, least of all by him.
Mayhap she had a point. Mayhap he should become more acquainted with the lands now his to defend.
Of course, the prospect of spending a pleasant afternoon in his lady wife’s company did not sway him. Not at all.
Laughter sprung from his gut. The day beckoned, full of promise.
*****
Stark and gnarled, overhead branches grasped the leaden sky, held up by ghostly tree trunks standing bare against the moss carpeting the ground. Crushed leaves scented the crisp air, those same leaves lifting, swirling, rustling, marking their way as they trotted along the faint path. The path, really no more than an animal track, finally twisted upwards through a jumble of stones, boulders and bushes.
Alyna concentrated on maintaining her seat until they spilled out into a small clearing at the summit.
They had climbed a rocky outcrop. Trees and bushes surrounded almost the entire clearing but one side lay open to the vista below.
She slid off her horse, letting the reins fall for there was really nowhere the animal could go. “Look.”
She swept out her arm.
Warin dismounted and walked over to stand beside her. “What is this place?”
She shrugged. “Somewhere I come when I’m troubled.”
“What troubled you that you needed escape?” He laid an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. “Tell me.”
“Philippa,” she said simply, tilting her head sideways to gaze up at him. His scent tickled her nostrils, a spicy mix of smoke and leather and she inhaled deeply. Masculine. Like him.
“Foul woman, what of her?” Warin looked intently at her as if he could will the words from her by force of gaze alone.
The concern in his eyes loosened her lips and she shuddered before she began.
“When he left on Crusade, my father put David in charge of Caperun Keep. Philippa lived with us there already, indeed had done so since my birth. With my father gone, her true nature surfaced and she became mean and spiteful. She started to usurp David’s place, changing his orders and making her own demands.”
Alyna paused, looking down towards Caperun Keep in the distance. Several spirals of smoke rose from the castle and diminutive figures patrolled the wall.
“There.” She pointed towards the castle. “There is the source of all the troubles. Right now it looks peaceful yet it’s been nothing but a source of discord.”
“Aye, it is a rich keep.” He nodded. “The fields are harvested, all is ready for winter and the surrounding forest yields game and wood. It’s well placed.”
“It is.” She lifted her gaze to watch a pair of crows circling overhead then continued with her tale. “Philippa soon realized she could take it from us and that is when David, displeased with her imperious ways, left. He thought to tell our father of her treachery and too, I think, the idea of fighting for our Lord in heaven appealed to him.”
She waited for Warin to say something. He remained silent and she peeped at him from the corner of her eyes. He stared at the keep, lip curled, nostrils flared. His power encompassed her and she sagged further against his bulk while she gathered her thoughts.
“Several days after David left, I overheard Philippa and Odo. She had sent Baldric along to ensure David never reached his destination. I left that very day to find David and warn him of Baldric. The rest you know.”
“Aye, you mentioned Baldric had stolen your horses and left you behind.”
“Imagine my shock to see Baldric standing behind Philippa the night I returned. In the rightful place of my father and David.”
Warin squeezed her shoulder again then stepped away, closer to the edge of the cliff. “And now we are here to recover it on our behalf.” He gestured to the smoke oozing from the tree tops. “There is our camp. Listen.” He cupped a hand to his ear. “I hear the pounding of hammers.”
“It is as I said. They work in your absence.” She wrinkled her nose and grinned at him. Relief at having shared her story made her lightheaded and she swayed a little.
Warin smiled and reached out an arm to steady her. “As they should.”
His touch burned against her flesh and to cover her sudden awkwardness, she knelt to unpack the basket. It wasn’t really that she hungered for food. She hungered for something else but didn’t know how to approach him for she did not wish him to think her forward. Unpacking the basket served as a ruse, something to keep her mind occupied.
Alas, the task was finished too soon for there was not much to unpack.
She sat back on her heels, keeping her gaze on the small cloth upon which she had laid out the food. She fidgeted for a moment or two, adjusting and readjusting the cold venison, unwrapping the cheese, placing the sliced turnip just so. Finally, she couldn’t avoid looking at Warin any longer.
Slowly, she raised her eyes from the scuffed tan leather boots, past the hem of his beige surcoat, frayed a little along the back, past the embossed leather belt, up to the broad shoulders sporting a black cloak flung back and finally, up to his face.
With a start she noticed he watched her. Apparently the repast spread out before him didn’t interest him either, for his eyes burned her, intent, hot.
To be the only object of his regard disconcerted her. Her heart began to pound furiously and inexplicably, that spot between her legs pounded also, growing moist against her will.
“My lady,” he whispered.
“Aye?” A tiny word, one hanging briefly between them before dancing away on the breeze that stirred just then.
A word of promise, for the next thing Alyna knew she was in Warin’s embrace, arms wrapped fiercely about his neck, returning kiss for eager kiss, breasts rubbing against him with every move.
“Alyna,” he groaned. “I long for you.” He held her even closer, arms wrapped so tight about her that his hands almost touched the opposing shoulders.
His heart pounded beneath her chest, his breath rasped in her ears. Leaning forward, she began to nuzzle his neck.
Then she shifted her head in order to feel his rough cheek against hers, stubbled against her smooth one. She loved it, loved rubbing her face against his, loved the tender scrapiness. It made him seem more hers.
“Alyna,” he groaned again, seeking her mouth with his. Finding her lips, he opened his mouth in invitation. She responded and he drew her tongue into him, sucking hard and greedily like a babe at its mother’s teat.
Warin seemed to lose all control, as if he had been taken over by another spirit. Without tearing his lips from hers, he fumbled about his waist, dropping his chausses then lifting her tunic to pull down her hose. He grasped her about the waist and raised her up, up, up, until he could gain the sweet access he sought. He leaned one arm against a tree and kept the other about her.
Without thinking, Alyna wrapped her legs about his waist, clinging to his neck, whimpering at the sensations: cool air licking her skin; the firmness of his arm around her shoulder; the heave of his thighs against her buttocks as he drove into her. He was lance
hard and she had the oddest sensation that he was pegged into her. She thrilled with his strength, the thrusting, again and again and again.
Still he did not let loose her mouth and she began to mimic his thrusting with her tongue, harder, faster as if she controlled the pace. She sobbed with pleasure.
When it came, their release was intense, she first, then him, their shouts as they climaxed mingling together, startling a flock of sparrows from the nearby bushes. They clung to each other, panting hard, hearts thumping in unison. As if to show approval, the sun peeked through at that very moment, dousing them in its aureate glow.
Warin’s knees sagged and regretfully, he plucked her off and set her down. Exultant, he could smell the sweet dusky scent of her that drenched him and a satisfied smile crossed his face. Their wanton sexual act had sated the bloodlust that had been building within him as the siege progressed.
Trembling, Alyna leaned against him. The power yet coursing through her, verily, coursing through them both, filled her with awe. She looked up at Warin and tenderly brushed her fingers against his jaw, trying to gauge his mood.
Dismay gripped her.
The stern stranger had returned.
His face was expressionless, his body unyielding. The gentleness he had shown towards her had dissipated. Deliberately he tore his gaze away and leaned down to pull up his hose, lacing them carefully, making an obvious show of ignoring her.
Sudden doubt assailed her.
She straightened her clothes, using the action as an excuse to collect her thoughts. Had he been displeased with her? Had she been too wanton, too eager for their joining? She tried to make light of the situation.
“And now we dine, my lord? For in truth, no finer thing has piqued my appetite!” She teased him yet a hint of anxiety shadowed her words. What had caused him to change so?
Warin said nothing although his eyes softened.
“What plagues you now,” she demanded suddenly, crossly, irritated he could so ruin the pleasure that had just consumed them both. She gave him a little push against his chest.
“Sit down. We have food and we’re not going to waste it or this fine afternoon.” Determined to bully him from his sudden change of humor, she pointed to the ground beside the food laden cloth. “Sit.”
He pointed to the ground. “There?” He must have found her harrying manner humorous for his eyes crinkled and a chuckle escaped him.
“Aye.”
“You are a firm little thing, aren’t you?” His tone was mild, conversational. The little half-smile she loved so much again tickled the corner of his mouth and his brow quirked in its familiar pose.
She hesitated for a moment then said, “Why were you so still just now?” Her face flushed at her audacity in asking the question. “Did I not please you?”
“Aye, you pleased me mightily. However, it wasn’t respectful of me to take you so.” He stated it firmly, as if a fact.
“Would it be wrong if I said I enjoyed it,” she said shyly, keeping her head lowered to hide the flaming cheeks.
“Nay, on the contrary, it would please me greatly.”
“Oh.” She sat silent for a moment, thinking on his words. Then she raised her head and faced him squarely. “You were embarrassed over your actions,” she observed shrewdly. “And now you suffer from a misplaced sense of honor.”
She cocked her head and crossed her arms. A playful expression lit her features, curving the lips swollen and rouged from his kisses. “It was fun, was it not?” She waited for his nod. “Then cease the guilt.”
Warin gave in and despite himself, started to laugh. God’s blood, his lady wife was no milk sop. Aye, she had noted his anger but had not been cowed by it, rather, it had spurred her on. She had determined correctly his anger was not directed at her.
No, his anger was directed at himself, for the impertinent manner in which he had just taken her. He thrust it away for the moment. Later, when he had time to think, he would puzzle on it.
In the meantime, it became apparent to him she wanted, nay, needed his approval. It couldn’t be enjoyable for her, a woman alone among so many men, men focused on the recapture of a castle. Even he himself noticed the concentration and determination shown by all and their attention to the task at hand.
Alyna needed, as did he, a respite from the grind of camp life. And as she had so correctly pointed out, work continued in his absence. Gerard no doubt relished the opportunity to lead, if only for an afternoon. She had been right, a break from routine would be good for him, for them both. In all fairness, he should grant her that.
With a sudden light heart, he sat down and prepared to enjoy the feast spread out before them.
*****
Horror replaced the pleasure within Warin as they rode back. What had he done? What had taken control of his reason that he had coupled with her like a common wench in the woods? She must think him a brute of the worst kind. Worse still, mesmerized with her as he had been had left them both vulnerable to attack from any quarter be it human or animal. And, he had used her to assuage his blood lust. His actions this afternoon had been despicable.
The closer they came to the camp, the more he despised himself. By the time they rode in, self-loathing and recrimination filled him.
With barely a curt nod to her, he flung himself out of the saddle and stalked away behind the tent.
Alyna almost sobbed aloud when she glimpsed his face. The stark stranger had indeed returned. It was there for all to see, in the harsh set of his jaw and the coldness of his eyes. Aye, she had felt him draw himself away from her, into himself, with every hoof beat that brought them closer to home.
With a heavy heart she watched him walk away. Would that she could wipe the expression from his face, wipe away that which plagued him inside.
This time Alyna did not doubt it would take more than a pleasant afternoon’s diversion to ease him.
Chapter Fourteen
Whump! A dull, muffled thud sounded as Alyna lay abed.
Whump! Another thud, so low in intensity as to be felt more than heard. She stirred and reached across the bed beside her. Empty. Where was Warin? What was happening?
Whump! Groggy from sleep, it took her a moment longer to realize the battle had begun in earnest. The dull thuds emanated from the trebuchet launching its load over the castle walls.
It was early, as evidenced by the murky light in the tent. She lay there a few moments longer, relishing the warmth of the furs. She sighed. It didn’t matter how long she put off the act, inevitably she must face the frigid morning air.
Gritting her teeth, she flung back the bed coverings, leaning over to snatch the kirtle, tunic and hose neatly folded on the stool beside her. She scooted beneath the coverings again, taking the clothing with her. She lay there a few more moments, warming the chill fabric against her body.
Whump!
Curiosity overcame her reluctance to arise and this time she threw back the furs and got out of bed. Her toes curled in protest against the icy ground and jiggling from one foot to the other, she managed to get dressed.
Her cloak, or rather Warin’s cloak, lay over the foot of the bed. Lately she had been in the habit of spreading it over her, for the autumn chill deepened as winter approached. Throwing it over her shoulders, she jammed her feet into her boots, thankful that her warmed hose shielded her cold toes from the icy leather.
Alyna pulled back the tent flap and peeked out.
“Lady Alyna!” Bennet’s dear voice hailed her.
“A moment please, Bennet.” She called back to him before disappearing behind a convenient bush to refresh herself.
She stopped at the stream, its banks now rimmed with ice. Shuddering, she dipped her fingers into it. A week or two more and it would be almost frozen over. She shuddered again. A brief vision of the great hall of Caperun Keep flashed through her mind, roaring fire in the fireplace, wall sconces fired against the darkness and a host of bodies, all warm and snug.
Ah well, patien
ce is a virtue if one could believe Father Gilbert. Warin would see them in the keep soon enough. He had enough on his mind right now. He didn’t need to hear her complaints.
“Good morrow,” she greeted Bennet.
He handed her a steaming bowl of oats and grateful, she sat on her stump and wrapped her fingers around the warmth. Save for him, the camp appeared to be empty.
“Good morrow,” he replied. “You slept well?” As usual, he was his usual pleasant self. His unperturbed manner reassured Alyna somewhat.
“We fight?” She asked him fearfully, not really wanting to know the answer.
“Of a sort.”
She wrinkled her brow in confusion. “How is that?”
He shrugged. “No one is in danger. We’re trying to distract Philippa and her men.”
“What is being thrown?”
“Oh.” He smiled and began to recite, ticking off his fingers as each one was named. “Two dead horses. A half rotted goat carcass. Burning logs. A barrel of slops. A—”
“I understand,” she squeaked, raising her hand to halt him in his recital. She had no desire to hear more for verily, it ruined her appetite for breakfast.
From the relative safety of her perch by the fire, Alyna could catch a glimpse of what was happening. The morning fog still hung in the air, twining about the trees and smudging the bodies of the men as they went about their duties preparing the trebuchet for the next assault. Apparently, their initial aim had not been accurate, for several piles of kindling, pork fat and blood littered the ground short of the target.
She cast her gaze about, searching for Warin. She found him easily for he stood half a head taller than most of the others and a small crowed surrounded him as he conversed with Gerard.
She rested her eyes on him for a few moments, marveling at his presence and the air of command hanging about him. That he was the undisputed leader was plain to see. Pride swelled her chest and she vowed to herself that she would not disappoint him with her actions. She would make him proud of her during this time of siege.
A Knight for Love Page 14