‘Ah, but ’tis not what I prefer, now is it?’ Guy asked, with a sly grin.
Suddenly Nicholas realised that the youth was taunting him, a jest for which he had little use, but scolding his squire would only make things worse. Instead, he effected a shrug. ‘’Tis of no matter to me,’ Nicholas said, lying through his teeth.
Guy snorted, but did not answer. And how could he? He knew full well why Nicholas could not form an attachment to any woman and why they did not return home, but moved amongst strangers, marking time... Sucking in a harsh breath, Nicholas snatched up Emery’s pallet and rolled it out for himself.
He removed his mail and his sword and lay down, fully clothed, listening as Guy settled down for the night, too. No fire had been laid, making the chamber nearly black, but Nicholas was glad for the privacy. Although he owed a debt of gratitude to his squire, sometimes he grew weary of Guy’s company and the eyes that saw more than he might want.
When long moments passed without Emery’s return, Nicholas felt a twinge of concern and wondered whether to send Guy to check on her—or go himself. But searching for Emery in the darkness might prove too tempting a task for him to undertake. And then he remembered how long she had remained away last night, perhaps to avoid the sight of him bathing, Nicholas now realised. Heat washed over him and he shifted uncomfortably.
At the sound of her soft footsteps, he closed his eyes, pretending sleep, rather than watch her as she slipped into bed. But the footsteps stopped before him, then he felt the gentle touch he had been craving, warm and tentative, upon his shoulder. Nicholas couldn’t help himself. He reached for the fingers even as they slipped away.
‘My lord!’ Even when tinged with surprise, Emery’s voice was so smooth that Nicholas wondered how he had ever thought it belonged to a boy. And in that instant, he wanted nothing more than to pull her down beside him.
‘What do you here?’ she whispered.
‘I intended to sleep,’ Nicholas said, though now other opportunities rose to tease him. Indeed, the very air seemed to hum with possibility, as if he was looking into that bright blue gaze that had so often arrested his own. But all he could make out was the shape of her head. Nicholas had never seen her without that awful cap and he was tempted to fling it aside and let her hair flow loose across them both.
‘But what of the bed?’ she asked.
What of the bed? Nicholas found he could not answer.
‘Why aren’t you sleeping there?’ The suspicion in Emery’s tone was belied by a certain breathlessness and Nicholas wondered what she would do should he pull her to him. His heart pounded and he grew warm, yet ’twas no fever that gripped him. He felt whole and eager, his world alight with promise in the darkness. If he reached upwards, could he touch her cheek?
‘The bed is for you,’ he said, so softly that she was forced to lean close. She was near enough now for him to take her face in his hands and steal a kiss. The memory of his mouth on hers returned, making him hungry for more. That kiss had been born of the moment, a celebration that she was alive—and female. But it had been only a taste and Nicholas yearned for a long, slow exploration...one that might take all night.
‘No, my lord,’ Emery said.
Had she divined his thoughts? Nicholas hesitated.
‘The bed is for you,’ she said, with insistence, yet her voice cracked.
If he put a finger to her lips, would it stop her protests? Nicholas lifted a hand to find the gentle curve of her cheek and let his thumb caress the softness. He felt her quiver in response, but she did not pull away.
‘The bed is for you,’ Nicholas whispered, ‘unless you wish to share it.’ The words were out before he could call them back and he heard the swift intake of her breath, whether in alarm or delight, he didn’t know. The silence and the heat gathered around them, the connection between them growing and building until the tension seemed unbearable, and Nicholas leaned upwards, ready to leap recklessly into the darkness.
But then a loud snore erupted within the confines of the chamber, reminding them that despite the cover of the night, they were not alone. Guy lay close by, privy to all that occurred between them, a realisation that cooled Nicholas’s blood and sent Emery scurrying away. The great bed creaked and he was left clutching at the air, as if trying to hold on to a dream.
* * *
Emery stared at the crumbling remains in dismay, as though, if she looked long enough, they might transform into a proper manor. But Lord de Burgh had not taken this route before and the path had led them to a place long abandoned. This evening there would be no welcoming hall, bustling with residents and servants, and no gates or guards to protect them. And a glance towards the setting sun told her they had no time to retrace their steps and look for shelter elsewhere.
Emery shivered. It seemed her adventure had gone from bad to worse. Her behaviour last night had been bad enough, making her reluctant to face her companions this morn. Thankfully, Guy must have slept through it all, for she was spared any odd glances or teasing. And, to her relief, Lord de Burgh did not appear intent upon pursuing her during daylight hours. In fact, he seemed rather distant, as though he, too, regretted his behaviour.
Perhaps the darkness and the close quarters had conspired to affect his judgement, too. Emery could only guess, for she had never been in such a situation. And she hoped never again to find herself there, balancing upon the edge of a knife, where one slip could mean a fall into ruin. Unnerved anew by the memory, Emery stared unseeing at the blackened remains of walls open to the sky until a call from Guy made her urge her palfrey forwards, to follow Lord de Burgh.
Surely he did not intend for them to travel at night? Even Emery was aware of those who preyed upon the roads, stealing purses or worse, and though they had seen no further sign of the Templar, that did not mean they had left him behind. But she forged on, through tall thickets that fell away to reveal another building, half-hidden by undergrowth and small trees. Presumably a barn, it seemed to have fared somewhat better than the manor house, perhaps having escaped some past fire.
‘We’ll bed down in there,’ Lord de Burgh said. Emery blinked at the bleak structure, with its door askew and half its roof missing. Although it would serve as some kind of shelter, the place seemed lost to the elements, wild and unwelcoming. Once inside, Emery shivered again, for much of the space already lay in shadow.
A sense of gloom seemed to settle over the company as they set up a camp, of sorts, under the portion of the roof that remained. There they lay their pallets and ate in silence, sharing wine given to them by last night’s host. Emery would have liked a fire, if only for comfort, but Lord de Burgh did not want to draw any attention.
‘Who would see it inside these walls?’ Guy asked, echoing Emery’s thoughts.
‘Someone who is looking closely,’ Lord de Burgh said, offering no further explanation. The good-natured knight seemed out of sorts, and Emery wondered if she were responsible. But she dared not ask, for she had no wish to discuss what had happened last night.
Had she worried about following Lord de Burgh anywhere? She had nearly followed him into bed, unable to resist the lure of his deep voice, the brush of his fingers, and his large shadowy form radiating heat and strength and mystery.
Loosing a sigh, Emery settled upon her pallet, but she was too tense to sleep. And, even though her companions were close by, she felt more alone than ever. She shivered, chill upon the ground compared with the cosy chamber where she had spent last night, tucked into the big bed, the only threat to her that of Lord de Burgh’s appeal.
The stillness was broken by a rustling and Emery flinched, unnerved by the sound. More than likely ’twas some animal moving around the barn, for the horses stirred, only to soon quiet. She heard the men settle down to sleep on either side of her, easing her fears, yet she knew an urge to move towards Lord de Burgh. She told herself she sought the warmth and comfort of his big body, but there were other desires that she could not risk rousing. And so she la
y awake long after Guy began to snore.
* * *
At last she must have dozed, for when something startled her, Emery blinked in alarm, before remembering where she was. Thankfully, the moon had risen, sending its faint glow through the broken roof. Beside her Guy was a black shape, curiously silent, and she wondered whether it was the cessation of his snoring that had woken her from a restless sleep.
Turning her head, Emery sought the larger shape lying to her right, but she could not find it. Heart thundering, she told herself that Lord de Burgh had probably gone to relieve himself, but she rose up on her elbows, searching the darkness, anxiety putting a knot in her throat.
When she saw something by the door, Emery swallowed hard, ready to reach for her sword. But ’twas no white-robed Templar slipping through the opening. The wide shoulders and casual stance of the figure told her Lord de Burgh was standing there, looking out, keeping watch. Had he slept at all?
Wide awake now, Emery rose to her feet and walked to his side. He had positioned the door to hide as much as possible of the barn’s interior, while giving himself a good view of the land that sloped down to the manor’s ruins.
‘I’ll stand guard,’ Emery said, but a stray breeze snatched at her words and made her shiver.
To her surprise, Lord de Burgh drew her close, putting an arm around her shoulders and enclosing her in his cloak. They stood in companionable silence for a long moment and Emery felt a heady relief that the events of the night before had not destroyed their budding friendship. Indeed, for the first time since then she felt a sense of peace and contentment envelop her. She slid her arm around his waist, as though he were Gerard.
But this man was not her brother. And the seemingly innocent gesture stirred up other emotions beyond camaraderie. Abruptly, Emery was aware of the heady scent of him that clung to the cloak and the heat of his body, far too close to her own. And before she knew what had happened, he was turning, as was she. They faced each other in the welcome cocoon of his cloak, and he lowered his head.
His lips met hers, soft, sweet and seductive, and pleasure surged through her right down to the tip of her toes. Emery had only a few moments to wonder how such a strong man could be so gentle, before his tongue brushed against her teeth, sweeping inside, and the kiss took a different turn, so dark and delicious that she swayed upon her feet.
Lord de Burgh caught her close, pressing his hard body against her, and Emery slipped her hands around his neck, her fingers weaving through the hair that needed cutting. It was just as thick and silky as she had imagined and she never wanted to let go. Nor did she want his hands to stop roving over her back beneath the cloak, spreading warmth with each motion, and she strained against him.
He groaned, sending a jolt through her, and Emery gasped as his lips left hers to move along her cheek and throat. She was free to breathe and speak, at last, but could form no words, for she felt witless and bereft of will, as though she had been drugged, such was his power over her. Yet some small part of reason remained, struggling to assert itself.
‘My lord, I—’ she began.
‘Nicholas,’ he whispered. ‘My name is Nicholas.’
Emery’s heart lurched, sending her good sense skittering in its wake. Guy was asleep inside the barn. Who was to see them? Who would know? But the answer came all too swiftly, chilling her to the bone.
Or perhaps it was the loss of Lord de Burgh’s warmth that cooled her. One moment, Emery was in his embrace, clutching him tightly to her, and the next, she was set behind him, the edge of his cloak thrown aside as he put his hand to the hilt of his sword.
Startled at his abrupt change from lover to warrior, Emery blinked into the night. She had heard nothing, seen nothing, but how could she when all of her senses had been engulfed by Lord de Burgh, by Nicholas?
‘What is it?’ Emery whispered when she found her voice.
‘I think someone is out there.’
His answer, low and serious, made Emery shiver and she remembered Guy’s talk of the de Burghs with their so-called abilities. Had Nicholas some of his father’s prescience, or was he simply more alert than most, as befitting a great knight?
‘Shall I wake Guy?’ Emery asked, even as she wondered what kind of stand they could make in the old barn in the dead of night. Her heart was pounding apace, but now with dread, rather than desire.
‘No.’
‘But what if they should both come at you?’ Emery asked, remembering the last fight they had waged against Gwayne and his man.
‘It’s not the Templar.’
Although Emery should have been relieved, something in his tone chilled her, as though the white-robed knight and his squire would be preferable to whoever was out there in the darkness, watching and waiting.
* * *
Rothston loomed out of the mist, its grey stone a welcome sight, for they were all eager for respite from the rain. Nicholas had forged on through the drizzle, despite Guy’s protests. Although he understood far better than his squire the risks of pushing his weary body through foul weather, he was wary of stopping. Even now, with the Templar preceptory ahead, he took a moment to scan the area, his gaze lingering behind them and beyond, to a stand of woods that stood well back from the road.
Had he seen something moving amongst the trees? Nicholas’s eyes narrowed, for it might well have been a trick of the rain. And yet ever since yesterday afternoon, he’d felt a presence, as though someone was following them. But he had no proof, just glimpses of a movement here, a shadow there. Indeed, if given to whimsy, he might have thought a shadow or ghost pursued them, which was why he had said nothing to his superstitious squire. The Templar, with his crude methods, would not be capable of such stealth. So who was it? Or was it anyone at all?
Nicholas turned away, fighting back a wave of weariness, and caught Guy eyeing him a little too closely. He would have assured his squire of his condition, but for the presence of Emery. He was not about to talk of such things in front of her, or invite Guy’s warnings about his so-called recklessness.
Nicholas frowned. He had been reckless, but not with his health and in a manner he hoped had escaped his squire’s notice. He did not need to add Guy’s rebuke to his own—or the one he imagined his father giving him. Nicholas shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, knowing full well what Campion would think of his youngest son’s behaviour.
To pursue a dalliance with a woman who was under his protection was bad enough, but to do so when Nicholas could not give her a future was unconscionable. Yet he had not thought twice when Emery had come upon him in the darkness. She approached him innocently enough, but he soon turned the situation to his advantage, despite her reluctance. Had he become that careless, that selfish?
Nicholas shook his head. He knew better and Emery deserved better. Although she spoke little of her situation, he suspected she was alone in the world except for her missing brother, a man he had vowed to help. Nicholas grunted in disgust, for Gerard had not had seducing his twin in mind when he asked for aid. And if they found the Hospitaller, how would Nicholas face the man, should he act ignobly with his sister?
Yet somehow he could not regret those moments in the darkness, Emery acting as a spark to stir him to life, as well as a balm to his weary soul. ’Twas more than desire that united them, for she seemed to fill the great void inside of him, standing as sibling, friend and companion in all things and providing solace in the black hours of the night. Was it wrong for him to want to take what he might, while he could, to claim something special for himself, just this once?
Nicholas knew the answer, though it was not to his liking. The de Burghs held to a strict code of honour that he could not abandon at his convenience, no matter what the circumstances. And as they entered Rothston, Nicholas decided a monastery was as good a place as any to vow to keep his distance from the young woman under his protection.
As if to prove him right, they received a warm welcome upon their arrival. One brown-robed figure waved them insi
de while another attended to their horses and Nicholas felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. For now, at least, the walls of the monastery would provide some protection from both the rain and any who might be following.
But Guy did not appear to share his relief. ‘Do you consider it wise to let them take the horses, my lord?’ the squire asked, looking over his shoulder nervously. Apparently, he did not care to linger, despite the weather.
Nicholas ignored the question, for Emery had already disappeared inside, eager to be out of the elements, and he hastened to follow. And he could not share Guy’s unease about these Templars, who seemed like members of other religious houses he had visited. Their hall was small and simply furnished, and boasted none of the bizarre carvings of the church at Roode. And if any tunnels lay below, Nicholas had no interest in them.
He sank on to a bench as one of the brethren set out a meal for them, and when they offered a room for the night, he accepted gratefully. While he had once been able to go without sleep and feel little effects, these days his endurance was limited and his body lodged its protest.
‘I don’t like it,’ Guy said.
Nicholas almost responded in kind before realising that Guy was referring to their hosts. He shook his head to clear it. ‘What?’
‘I don’t like the idea of sleeping here, amongst them,’ Guy whispered. ‘Remember that one of their own has attacked us twice.’
‘Would you rather bed down in the rain?’ Nicholas asked, only to snort when Guy actually appeared to consider the choice.
The squire even looked upon the food with suspicion, as though the good brethren might have dosed it with a sleeping draught or some kind of poison, though how or why was beyond Nicholas’s comprehension. When it came to danger, he had long ago learned to listen to his gut—and his gut told him to eat his fill. He intended to stay here, as well. The day had turned oppressive, and he was eager to be rid of his mail and rest.
The Last de Burgh Page 10