She could not believe she had been so bold to say those words, and yet she felt a certain vindication having done so, especially when she noted the strange look of guilt in his eyes. He wondered if she had seen him with Machara or not, and was no doubt at this moment curious as to just how much she had seen.
Let him wonder.
“Who goes there?” a loud, booming voice said from the ramparts.
“Do not say a word,” Adelstan said, putting an arm around Rhiannon’s shoulder and pulling her close. She reveled in the heat and strength of his body flush against her own.
“It is I, Adelstan of Braemere.”
“Good evening, sir,” the guard called, a knowing smile on his lips. “I suggest ye stay to the inner ward. It is well lit.”
“Thank you,” Adelstan replied as he turned and walked back through the gate. “Keep your head down and put your arm about my waist. No one should stop us, and if they do, I shall do my best to protect your identity.”
Rhiannon slipped her arm around his waist and smiled inwardly when she heard his quick intake of breath.
They stepped into the inner bailey, and Rhiannon had to walk fast in order to keep up with Adelstan’s long strides. Someone called out his name, and she felt him lift his free hand in greeting. He pulled her closer. “We shall be at the tower shortly.”
With each step toward the tower, the more she savored the feel of his touch…until the memory of what she had seen moments before in the bakehouse flashed in her mind.
Her emotions were in turmoil. Part of her wanted to tell him exactly how she felt about him, and the other wanted to berate him for having been with Machara just hours after she had all but thrown herself at him. If he longed to be with a servant, then he had every right to be, and there was nothing she could do about it.
It might take time, but if she could keep Adelstan at Castle MacKay, then perhaps she could, little by little, win him over.
But to what end?
Nothing would change her future. She would marry Malgor de Cion, even if Adelstan did become her lover. And what then? Would they spend their lives always looking for a bakehouse or some other quiet building in which to make love?
“Good night, Rhiannon,” Adelstan said, stopping at the base of the tower stairs.
“Ye come no further?” she asked, her brow lifted in surprise.
“I would hate for your father to wake and find the two of us alone together.”
She lifted a brow. “Ye are afraid of my father?”
His eyes narrowed. “Nay, I am not afraid of your father.”
“Then walk me to my room.” She ascended the steps, not waiting to see if he followed. Feeling his gaze on her back, she smiled inwardly.
Stopping at her chamber, she turned back to look at him while opening the door. “Would ye like to come in for a moment?”
He swallowed hard, and shook his head. “I cannot.”
The cloak slid from her, and she tossed it over a chair, aware his light eyes followed her every movement. “Come in for just a moment. I swear I shall not bite.”
“Where is your maid?” he asked, taking a step in, but the door remained open.
“With her lover.”
He flinched as though she had struck him.
“Does that surprise ye?”
“No, but hearing you say it does.”
“Ah, ye think me unladylike.”
His lips curved softly. “Nay, I do not think you unladylike, Rhiannon.”
She straightened her shoulders, and pressed her hands to the small of her back, knowing full well the stance pushed her breasts out. “My back aches from this morning’s ride.”
She could tell he fought to keep his gaze at eye level. “Is that why you missed supper?”
“Aye,” she said, despite the fact it was not the truth.
* * *
Liquid fire rushed through Adelstan, and it was all he could do not to pull Rhiannon into his arms and kiss the coy smile from her lips.
The moment he’d walked out of the bakehouse and found her standing there, he had been consumed by guilt.
But why?
She was hardly his woman, and yet he felt compelled to put her mind at ease, to let her know that Machara—or any other woman for that matter—could not hold a candle to her.
Her long hair licked at her high buttocks, the chemise hiding absolutely nothing from his gaze. Now she walked toward the fire, standing before it, her slender back taunting him as she held her hands out to the flames.
He trembled with his need for her, and here, after he had just had his cock sucked by another. But in his mind it had been Rhiannon who had pleasured him, her mouth, her tongue, her hair he had fisted in his hand, not Machara’s.
Dear God, she had bewitched him, this woman who was to marry another man. This woman he had sworn to keep from harm.
“Tell me something of my betrothed,” she said, turning to face him.
The breath left his lungs in a rush.
He could see the outline of her body clearly through the white linen. Rose-colored nipples topped firm, full breasts, the small nubs poking at the material. Her waist was tiny, her hips flaring slightly. He could clearly make out the hair between her thighs, and his cock jerked against his belly. Thank goodness his tunic covered the evidence.
She tilted her head and his gaze ripped back to her beautiful face.
The face of an angel.
An angel, who knew exactly what she was doing to him. Did she do this to torment him? he wondered.
Of course she did. This was the same woman who had kissed him earlier today. The woman sworn to one of his fellow officers—a man he had fought many a battle with.
“Baron de Cion is well liked amongst his men.”
She pressed her full lips together as she stared at him. “Ye said he was once married. What did his wife look like?”
“I do not recall. It was many years ago.”
“Was she also young?”
“Younger than he, but not a great age difference.”
“What color was her hair?”
“I think it was dark.”
“Like Machara’s?”
The side of her mouth lifted in a smirk and he knew in that moment she had witnessed his tryst with the servant.
“Do ye like dark-haired women, Adelstan?”
“I like women.”
She laughed a little, but he also sensed her frustration with him. “I’m a woman. Do ye like me?”
“I think you already know the answer to that, Rhiannon.”
Warning bells were going off in his head, especially when she walked toward him, her hips swaying in time to the pounding of his heart.
She stopped just shy of him and looked up at him with those haunting violet eyes the color of Scottish heather. “Show me how much ye like me, Adelstan.”
Conscious of the nearby open door, and the fact her father slept directly above her, Adelstan refrained from touching her. “My duty forbids me to act on my feelings.”
“So ye do feel something for me, even if your duty keeps ye from doing anything about it?”
His throat was suddenly so dry that he could only nod.
She dragged her teeth along her lower lip, the action sensual without her meaning it to be.
Or perhaps she had meant it to be and was not as innocent as she claimed.
That would be the easiest explanation.
But what if she was an innocent and she truly did desire him? Never before had a woman gotten under his skin so quickly as Rhiannon. Was it the fact she was forbidden that made her so appealing to him?
“I can keep a secret, Adelstan. I can and I shall.”
He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the sound so loud he barely heard footsteps just outside the door. Before he could react, the door pushed open and Elspeth appeared.
The maid looked from Adelstan to Rhiannon, her mouth curving in a wide smile before she restrained it. “I did not mean to interrupt.
”
“I was just leaving,” he said, brushing past Rhiannon. To his dismay, his upper arm grazed her breast. He ground his back teeth together, his need for this woman so intense, it unnerved him.
A hand enveloped his for a moment, and he turned to look down at her.
He almost wished he hadn’t. Those violet eyes were so dark with unspent passion, he was half tempted to lock her maid out and take her right then and there.
“Thank ye for walking me to my chamber, Adelstan. Perhaps we shall run into each other in the bakehouse again?”
Was that an open invitation?
While his body throbbed at the promise of such a request, his mind told him to run as far and as fast as he could from Rhiannon MacKay.
Chapter 8
“Ye saw Adelstan and Machara together in the bakehouse?” Elspeth asked, pulling a chair before the fire.
“Aye, and they were having sex.”
“Oh, Rhiannon, I am sorry.”
“I saw it all. The way he looked at her. The way his hands slid through her hair. I swear sometimes I wish I were a servant. At least then I could choose who I made love to.” Easing the ache from her shoulders with her hands, Rhiannon tried without success to get the image of Adelstan and Machara from her mind.
“I might have the ability to pick my own lover and not worry I will be forced to marry, but otherwise, my life is not my own.”
Rhiannon nodded. “I know that, Elspeth. I do, and I do not wish to sound ungrateful for all that I have, but I swear I would change places with ye right now if I could.”
“Come, no more frowns, my dear. Tomorrow is another day.”
“What if we ran away?”
“Rhiannon, ye cannot be serious?”
“Aye, but I am. Do ye think Antony would leave with us?”
Elspeth’s brows furrowed. “I do not know. What of your marriage to Lord Malgor?”
“I am certain Lord Malgor can find another bride, and he earned Castle Almeron on his own.”
Elspeth smoothed her hands over her skirts. “Once he learns how truly beautiful ye are from the soldiers who return, he will be furious to know ye slipped through his fingers.”
“I could never be happy with him, Elspeth. I know it in my heart.”
“When de Cion dies, ye shall claim everything he possesses, including lands and wealth.”
Rhiannon could care less about lands, titles, and wealth at the moment.
Elspeth poured warm wine into a goblet. “Here, perhaps this shall help ease your mind.”
“Numb my mind, ye mean.”
Motioning for Rhiannon to sit on a bench before the fire, Elspeth began brushing out her hair.
Rhiannon took a long drink of the wine, her mind still racing with all she had witnessed this night. “Damn, but I cannot rid myself of the image of those two together.” What had Adelstan said to Machara? Tomorrow night I shall make it up to you.
Not if she had anything to do about it.
“Ye must put Adelstan from your mind if ye are to have any peace.”
If only she could.
“Tonight, when he walked me back to my chamber, I saw the way he looked at me. I admit I took off the cloak in order for him to see my body. I wanted to see if he desired me the same way he desired Machara.”
“And did ye get your answer?”
“I don’t know for sure. I thought I saw a heat in his eyes. Lord help me, but I want him desperately, Elspeth. I burn for him.”
Elspeth hugged her from behind, and rested her head on her shoulder. “Ye will not rest until ye have him, will ye?”
Rhiannon set the goblet down and turned. “Nay, I will not.”
Elspeth smiled. “That is what I thought.”
“So what can I do?”
“Remain here as long as possible, then ye might just have time to win Adelstan over.”
“But how do I win him over, especially now that he has found a lover, and one who is much more experienced than I?”
Elspeth’s lips quirked. “Seduce him.”
“I do not know how.”
“Ye are already well on your way, but ye must be aggressive with a man like Adelstan, who puts duty and loyalty above all else.” Elspeth’s brows drew together. “First off, ye must understand what making love means. I could try to explain it to ye, but it would be best if I could show ye what I mean,” she said absently. “Aye, ye must see for yourself. It is the only way ye will truly understand.”
Realizing what Elspeth was suggesting, Rhiannon’s heart rate increased. She was not about to tell her friend she had already spied on her and Antony making love.
Taking a deep breath, Elspeth looked at Rhiannon, her gaze intense. “I am meeting Antony again tomorrow night in the stables. Ye can watch us from up in the loft.”
“Ye want me to hide in the loft?”
Elspeth nodded slowly. “I will not tell Antony ye are there, and ye must be very quiet. I mean it, Rhiannon. Ye cannot let out a single peep or be discovered, or he may never forgive me.”
Surprised Elspeth would be so willing to help her in this matter, Rhiannon nodded. “I swear I will be as quiet as a mouse. Neither one of ye will know I am there.”
“I doubt that,” she said, running a hand down her face. “Ye can never say I don’t do anything for ye.”
“Thank ye, Elspeth. This means a lot to me.”
Elspeth crossed her arms over her chest and paced the chamber. “Until then, ye must gain Adelstan’s attention. Seduction is not all about making love. It’s the way ye look at a man, talk to him, or just make him feel. Moments alone are scarce, so ye must create them. In fact, the men are riding out first thing in the morning to hunt. They will be gone all day, but when they return, ye must be where Adelstan can see ye.”
“What if I fly the falcon?”
Elspeth lifted a brow. “Excellent idea. And we shall have Mortimer, the handsome young guard, come along.”
“Do we need a guard?”
“Of course, if only to make Adelstan jealous. And your father will be pleased to know we did not venture out alone.”
Rhiannon smiled, already excited for tomorrow to come. “Then that is exactly what we shall do.”
* * *
Adelstan grinned inwardly as Jorden boasted of his ability with bow and arrow, the evidence of which had been flung over the back of a pack horse they had brought along for such purpose.
An impressive kill.
His soldiers were excellent hunters and each had proved his skill this day. Castle MacKay and its occupants would eat well this night…and for days to come.
“I hear ye spent the evening with the pretty servant,” Jorden said, brushing sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.
The few men within earshot chuckled.
“Aye, I did, but only a little while.”
“Long enough, aye?”
Adelstan nodded. “Long enough.”
“There was a day you used to tell me everything.”
“The difference being, we were boys back then.”
Jorden winked. “We’ll always be boys, sir.”
“Speak for yourself,” Barden replied, a smirk on his thick lips. “Between us, de Cion’s bride makes me hard.” He rubbed his cock. “A rare beauty that one, and her tits are like ripe—melons .”
“That is enough,” Adelstan said, his voice coarser than intended.
The good-natured Barden looked alarmed, where Jorden merely looked amused.
“I meant no disrespect,” Barden said.
“I know.” Adelstan clapped him on the back reassuringly. “I know.”
Barden walked off, and once he disappeared, Jorden turned and looked at Adelstan, arms crossed over his wide chest. “A bit touchy when it comes to the lass.”
He couldn’t even defend himself, not with Jorden. “I know.”
All night he had been unable to shake Rhiannon from his thoughts, or forget her violet eyes as they stared into his, or the unasked question
as she had looked from him to Machara. If he hadn’t known better, he would say Machara had wanted Rhiannon to know what had happened.
Rhiannon had said she’d been leaving the chapel, but was that the truth? And if she had watched, just how much had she seen?
“She is attracted to you as well.”
Adelstan frowned, and Jorden glanced away, his gaze focusing on Dante, a young knight who had recently joined de Wulf’s ranks. The knight had signed on to travel north to Castle MacKay when he had found Jorden would be doing the same.
The two had been making eyes at each other all day.
It reminded Adelstan of Lady Rhiannon last night, and the way she’d looked at him. But had he been seeing what he wanted to see or what was really there?
“Are ye so used to sleeping in quarters with your men, that when you are awarded a private chamber, you find sleep long in coming?” Jorden pushed a hand through his dark shoulder-length hair, and cast a glance at Dante again. The newly knighted soldier was helping another knight tie a stag to his horse. “Or mayhap you missed my company?”
Adelstan laughed under his breath. “Nay, I never sleep well when I am away from Braemere.”
“Nor do I, my friend,” Jorden said, stretching. “A fine day. Shall I rally the men?”
Adelstan glanced up at the fair skies. “It is still early enough that we have time to stop by the loch in order to wash away the remains of the hunt. What say you?”
Jorden’s eyes lit up. “Excellent idea, sir.”
“I thought you might think so.”
A quarter of an hour later, Adelstan swam out into the deep dark water of the loch, wondering how he would handle matters with Machara this evening. After last night she would want, or rather expect, him to meet up with her and finish what they had started, and yet, he lacked the desire to do so.
Plus, he could not get Rhiannon out of his mind, or how she looked last night in nothing save her chemise.
Rhiannon is forbidden fruit, his mind said, and yet his body said something altogether different.
Which meant he would indeed meet Machara this evening, if only to remind himself that Rhiannon was not his, and would never be. Mayhap he would even invite the servant to his private chamber.
“Sir, we are heading back,” Barden said, motioning toward a group of soldiers who were already dressed.
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