“We shall be along shortly,” Adelstan replied, still feeling bad for having spoken so tersely to him earlier.
Adelstan swam out farther into the loch, enjoying the feel of the cool water against his heated loins. He loved swimming, enjoyed the release it brought, both body and mind.
He returned to where Jorden stood waist deep in the loch, busy scrubbing his hair. Dante lingered nearby, his wide blue eyes sliding slowly over the older knight’s powerful body. Only one other soldier remained, too busy dressing to take notice of the flirtation going on in the water.
Adelstan grabbed a handful of sand from the loch floor and scrubbed his scalp. He enjoyed the nature of Scotland, the crisp air, the scent of firs and heather. The beauty of its women.
He caught Jorden’s gaze and knew his friend wanted him to leave. With a nod, Adelstan did just that, and was surprised when seconds later Dante followed him out of the water.
Drying himself off with his tunic, Adelstan dressed quickly and walked toward his horse, who grazed nearby. Dante lingered on the bank while Jorden stepped from the water, letting the air dry his body, and letting the boy look his fill, which he did.
Adelstan covered laughter with a cough as he mounted his horse.
“I shall see you both back at the castle in time for dinner.”
Dante’s face was flaming red. “Aye, sir!”
Jorden smiled wolfishly while pulling on his braies. “We’ll be there, sir.”
Feeling slightly guilty for leaving the boy behind, Adelstan headed out, riding his horse at a leisurely pace toward Castle MacKay. He knew his men grew uneasy being in Scotland for too long. The Scots were not exactly fond of King William and were therefore untrustworthy. However, before leaving Braemere, Renaud had told Adelstan to be sure Rhiannon was given ample time to say her good byes to her father.
Despite her uncertain relationship with her father and stepmother, Rhiannon did have a connection to the land and its people. Everyone brightened upon seeing her, and she had a way of putting each at ease. Her leaving would be a huge loss to the people of Castle MacKay.
And in turn, she would become an asset to Castle Almeron, where her beauty would be sung about by minstrels and poets alike.
And once again jealousy and rage gripped at his heart, knowing another would claim her. She would make love to another man and give birth to that man’s child.
He tightened the reins within his fist, the leather eating into his gloveless hands. He wondered what his liege would say if he rode to Braemere and told him he had made a mistake, and that he wanted Rhiannon for himself.
Already he knew what Renaud’s answer would be. The deed was as good as done. Money had been exchanged, contracts signed. The only thing needed now was the bride herself, and the marriage would take place. And then the consummation…and then all was lost.
He fisted his hands at his sides. There was only one thing he could do.
Forget her.
Chapter 9
In the meadow just east of Castle MacKay, two women and a tall broad-shouldered guard stood while a falcon flew high above them. Adelstan’s heart leapt at the familiar figure wearing men’s clothing.
Dark leggings clung to Rhiannon’s slender legs and her tunic barely brushed the tops of her thighs. A large belt nearly swallowed her tiny waist, and chausses laced all the way to the knee.
His sister had dressed in a similar fashion from the moment Braemere had been taken from them and their parents killed. However, she had done so out of necessity and to keep focus from her. He had never thought anything of it, and yet now, he could see exactly why Aleysia’s husband, Renaud, had been entranced by the sight. Something about a beautiful woman in men’s clothing was intensely erotic, particularly this woman. Her long hair had been bound in a single plait that fell down her slender back, as thick as his wrist and bound with black ribbon.
What he would do with that ribbon if given the chance.
It seemed a few of his men had noticed Rhiannon and her attire, for she had an audience.
He caught up with them just as Rhiannon lifted her arm and the falcon landed on her gloved hand. Many of the men cheered, and she turned and gave a mock bow.
To his surprise, Dante and Jorden rode up, the latter looking a tad disappointed. Apparently the boy was playing hard to get.
“A shame de Cion is not here to see his betrothed,” one of his men said with a knowing grin.
Barden remained closed mouthed.
“He wouldn’t make it to the wedding night if he were,” another said.
Adelstan cleared his throat. “Return to the castle and prepare for supper.” The men broke off, heading toward the castle, though their gazes kept straying to Rhiannon.
The side of Jorden’s mouth rose a fraction. “I think it a good look for Lady Rhiannon, do you not agree, sir?”
“I had not thought about it.”
He laughed under his breath. “Of course you hadn’t. Will you be returning to the keep, or would you like me to see to your horse?”
“Why do I feel your kindness serves another purpose?”
Jorden narrowed his eyes, shrugged. “You know me too well, sir. Mayhap I feel the sudden urge to linger in the stalls with the knights.”
Adelstan shook his head and dismounted, handing the reins over to Jorden, who nudged his horse’s flanks and started toward the castle, Adelstan’s horse in tow.
Walking in long strides toward the trio, Adelstan noted how close the guard stood to Rhiannon. The man said something in her ear that made her laugh.
Jealousy coiled within Adelstan. As he approached, Rhiannon’s servant looked at him with a welcoming smile. The guard noticed his approach, but other than a glance, he returned his full attention to Rhiannon.
Adelstan had at least a decade on the younger man, who had dark brown hair and warm brown eyes. He had never seen him before and wondered at the nature of their relationship.
“Adelstan, have ye come to watch Rhiannon fly her falcon?” Elspeth asked, sounding excited.
“Aye, I have.”
The guard stepped behind Rhiannon, helping with the weight of the bird. “Now just like so,” he said, his front flush against Rhiannon’s back.
Adelstan’s fingers itched to wrap around the guard’s neck.
The falcon took flight and Rhiannon looked back at the guard, a wide smile on her face, which faded the second she saw Adelstan.
“Ye have returned from your hunt?” she asked, but looked away as she watched the falcon soar. “Look at her, Adelstan. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Aye,” he said, not even glancing at the falcon, but rather staring at Rhiannon’s profile. She had never looked so beautiful, her cheeks pink from the exertion, her eyes twinkling with awe, her lips split into a smile that made his heart pound.
“See the height she’s getting?” the guard said, looking pleased. “It is as I said, Rhiannon. Speak softly to her and she will respond to ye. Just like any woman.”
Adelstan fisted his hands at his sides, wanting the man to leave, not at all liking the tone he used when speaking to her, or the fact he used her first name, without her title, when addressing her.
“Is he correct, Adelstan?” Rhiannon asked, lifting a brow. “If you speak softly to a falcon, will she do as ye ask, just like any woman?”
He watched her intently and saw the innocence in her eyes. But still he wondered of the barb.
Clearing his throat, he replied, “Aye, he is correct.”
“I must return to the castle to help prepare for dinner,” Elspeth said with a sigh. “Mortimer, will ye escort me back? I seem to have twisted my ankle.”
The guard looked extremely disappointed to be leaving Rhiannon and even opened his mouth, but snapped it shut a moment later. “Of course. I shall be delighted to assist ye.” He turned to Rhiannon. “Anytime ye need my assistance, Lady Rhiannon, I am at your disposal.”
“Thank ye, Mortimer,” Rhiannon said, smiling prettily. “I should lik
e that very much.”
As the two walked off, Adelstan took a step closer and watched as Rhiannon in turn kept her eye on the falcon’s flight. “I do not have a lot of experience yet, but I hope what I lack in experience, I make up for with enthusiasm.”
There it was again, that tone and certain innuendo.
She shifted on her feet, and it was all he could do not to drop his gaze past her lovely, full lips. Truth be told, he liked her spirited ways and frank manner of speaking.
A tendril of hair had escaped her plait and rested against a fragile collarbone. How he ached to reach out, touch that lock, wrap it about his finger. And yet he could not do so for fear of someone seeing.
She pursed her lips and let out a call. She had a mouth made for kissing. A mouth he had kissed, but only too fleetingly. How he yearned to do more. So much more. Teach her everything there was to know about making love. To touch every inch of her body, kiss every inch of her skin. Fill her sheath and give up every ounce of his seed.
The falcon started to descend and she held her arm up. “Can ye help me, Adelstan? She is a bit too heavy for me to handle on my own.”
So that was how the other officer had come to be so close to her? Perhaps it had been innocent?
He nodded and stepped forward, standing behind her, just as the guard had done. She took a little step back until her buttocks brushed against his cock. He bit his bottom lip. Hard.
“Here she comes,” she said, looking back at him, her violet eyes dancing. “Take my hand, Adelstan.”
She said his name in a breathy way that had his heart skipping a beat, and his cock standing at attention.
Doing as she asked, he braced her arm with his own, his hands sliding beneath her gloved one. She pressed into him even more, and he could feel her heart pumping fast.
Was it because of the falcon, or from the contact of their bodies?
A second later the falcon landed on her hand, the beautiful bird taking the treat Rhiannon gave her. “You’re so lovely,” she breathed, her accent sending a shiver up his spine. She could have been talking to a lover instead of the bird, who reacted to her voice.
“Go ahead, Adelstan, talk to her. Say something sweet.”
Sweat beaded his brow. He was not one for flowery words or poetry. Though educated from a young age, he had always preferred the manly pursuits of hunting, fighting, and war to romantic pursuits. Swallowing against a throat gone suddenly dry, he said, “You are a pretty bird.”
Rhiannon’s lips split into a smile. “Despite the fact I am younger than ye, I do believe there are a few things I could teach ye.” There was that innuendo again.
God help him, but she was beautiful. She had to feel the hard ridge of his cock against her back, but perhaps in her innocence, she did not realize what she was doing to him. “And there are a few things I could teach you, too,” he said before he could stop himself.
The smile vanished and her gaze dropped to his lips.
He shifted, wishing he had not stopped, but gone directly to the castle. “What is the falcon’s name?”
“Beatrice.”
He could not help the laughter that came, and she scowled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Ye do not like the name?”
“I did not say that,” he said, trying to keep a straight face but failing.
She laughed, too, a soft, pleasant sound that made his heart pound even harder. “My mother’s first bird was called Beatrice, and she loved it so, that I told her when the day came I could fly my own, I would call her Beatrice in memory.”
“I am sure she would be most honored to know you have done so.”
The laughter stilled on her lips. “Aye, she would.”
“I like your attire.”
She lifted a tawny brow. “Do ye really?”
He nodded. “Very much.”
“Adelstan…”
“Yes?”
She pressed her moist lips together, her gaze searching his. “I wish it were ye.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She released the bird a second later and, with her free hand, captured his hand, holding it between them so that no one could see, her fingers squeezing tight around his. “I wish it were ye I was marrying. I wish it were ye who would take me to my bridal chamber. I wish it were ye who would take my maidenhead.”
Adelstan’s heart roared in his ears. The air around them seemed to crackle. God help him, he wanted this woman in a way that terrified him. All his life he had lived by the sword and put his duty and honor above all else.
Until now. He felt his control, which he’d always called on, slipping as he looked into violet eyes that pleaded with him. He had to remember that he had been asked among all of Renaud’s men to personally escort Rhiannon to Castle Almeron for her marriage to de Cion, his peer and fellow soldier.
God, strike me dead at this moment for my wicked thoughts.
“Ye are not saying anything, Adelstan.”
Her throat convulsed as she swallowed hard. “Do ye not feel the same?”
The soldier in him yearned to scan the meadow and the castle walls to be sure no one watched or guessed at the nature of the conversation taking place. Yet the man in him refrained.
The woman he desired above all others was telling him she wished he would take her maidenhead, that she wished he would be her husband. And yet he stood silent, saying nothing.
She released his hand, took a small step back, and dropped her gaze between them.
“Rhiannon, look at me.”
She shook her head.
“I would lift your chin with my fingers if I could, for I want you looking at me when I tell you this.”
She took a deep breath, then looked up, and it was then he saw a shimmer of tears in her eyes.
It was nearly his undoing.
He took the small step that separated them. “Rhiannon, I desire you more than you will ever know, and yet, this cannot be. I was sent here on a mission, and I will do my duty to my liege. I will bring you safely to Almeron and to de Cion…with your maidenhead intact.”
She brushed away a tear with the back of her hand before looking at him again. What he saw in her eyes now concerned him more than the tears moments before.
Firm resolve.
“I understand your duty, and while I commend ye for your loyalty to your liege, will ye ignore your heart?”
“Aye, I must.”
Her mouth opened and she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up, nearly to her chin.
His mouth went dry.
“Ye are so stubborn, Adelstan. Ye would deny yourself what ye want when it’s right in front of you, and for what—for the sake of honor and duty? Will honor and duty keep ye warm at night?”
He said nothing until he saw the falcon returning. “Beatrice,” he said.
Rhiannon turned so quickly, she lost her footing and stumbled.
Steadying her, he regained his position behind her, his hand sliding beneath her slender arm, cupping her hand.
She leaned back even more, so that no space at all separated them. Indeed, the heat from her body made him sweat.
“Rhiannon,” he said in warning.
He could not see her face, but he could imagine the smile there, the violet eyes that had been shimmering with tears seconds before now twinkling with glee. Her buttocks brushed against his cock, again and again, until he was gritting his teeth.
Would the fucking bird land already?
“Come to the meadow with me, Adelstan,” she said, seconds before the falcon landed on her delicate, gloved hand. “Come to me. I beg of ye.”
“I cannot, Rhiannon.”
“Why?”
“How would we explain our absence?”
“If not today, then what of tomorrow? Elspeth and I can set out and ye can be our escort.”
“This is a dangerous game, Rhiannon.”
She stepped away, turned to face him. “It is not a game to me.” Though the falcon had to
be heavy, she did not struggle with its weight at all. She lifted her chin slightly, reminding him she was a nobleman’s daughter, used to getting her way, no doubt.
“But it is a game, whether you want to admit it or not. We cannot do this, Rhiannon. It would be the biggest mistake of our lives. You do not understand what is at risk.”
“I would risk everything,” she said without blinking.
If only the blood didn’t burn in his veins, or the ache in his groin would just cease. “You do not understand, nor will you ever.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then frowned. “Ye do not desire me, do ye?”
She took a step from him, and he should have let her go, but he reached out, grabbed her wrist. “One day maybe you’ll understand.”
As though he’d said too much, he released her hand. She sent the falcon flying and took a step closer, pressed a hand to his cheek. “I do not want ye to leave me, Adelstan. Ever. I could not bear leaving my people, moving to a new country, and having you leave me at Almeron, before or after the wedding.”
More than anything, he wished to tell her he would never leave her, but he could never make that pledge. He knew only one certainty—that she would marry Lord Malgor within weeks, if not days, of her arrival at Almeron.
“This is madness, Rhiannon.”
“Nay, it is not.”
“It is. It’s an impossible situation and one we must remedy now. We can be friends, but only friends.”
“I must forever be your friend and nothing more?”
“Aye.”
“Or at least until de Cion is dead?”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Do not say that.”
“Why? I wish he were dead. I hate him with everything that I am.”
He opened his eyes. She did not jest. She meant what she said. “How can it be that ye wish the man dead and yet ye have never met him?”
“Because he is keeping me from what I want most, and that is ye.”
Adelstan ran a trembling hand through his hair. “We must return to the castle before someone sees us.”
Her grip only tightened. He could see the curve of her breasts from his vantage point and yearned to touch them, to take a nipple into his mouth, suck and lave it.
The Conquest Page 8