Any possible response fled Elizabeth’s mind as she stared at her husband’s chiseled body. Though she’d seen a hint of it when he’d woken from his nightmare, she could now appreciate it in full. Broad shoulders thick with muscle tapered to where his chausses sat low on his narrow hips. His chest was well defined, smooth and bronzed. His stomach rippled with muscle. Scars, some short, others long and deep, marred his flesh. Rather than detract from his appearance, they added to it. His clothing obviously didn’t do him justice.
Her face felt hot, and her heart pounded as she stared. At last, she pulled her gaze away from his form, wishing fleetingly that he’d chosen to keep on his tunic. She clenched her hands into fists, grasping at the thread of their conversation. “Sleeping separately for the rest of our lives seems impractical.” Suddenly courageous, she stepped toward him. “Nicholas, I think we could be friends of a sort. There are many things here that will require us to work together, including helping William.”
Nicholas snorted. “While that may be true, it doesn’t require that we consummate our marriage. I work with others here as well and have never been the least tempted to sleep with them. Take Walter for example.”
“Please.” His sarcasm thoroughly annoyed her. “That is hardly the same thing and you well know it.”
He strode toward her, his broad shoulders blocking the firelight as he towered over her. “Understand this and understand it well.” He bent forward until his face was before her, his cold, blue eyes boring into hers. “We will never be friends or lovers. You are here for one purpose only. For you and your father to pay for the injustice you served on my brother.”
Though she longed to flee the chamber and escape the force of his anger, she held her ground. “We are paying. Justice has been served. I’m doing everything in my power to help William and you.”
“’Tis not enough.”
Something flashed in his eyes before he dropped her gaze, making her wonder if he truly believed his words. Hope made her press on. “There is nothing else I can do. I’ve apologized. I’m trying everything I can think of to aid William. Is that not enough? When will you be satisfied with the agreement we made?”
“If William recovers – ”
“Of course William will recover.” She swatted away his words with false bravado. “Then what? We continue with this arrangement? To whose benefit?”
“Certainly not yours,” he ground out.
“I am not asking to profit from this marriage. I am merely suggesting that we forge a truce of sorts. One we can both live with. One that will benefit the people of Staverton.”
“A truce?” The scorn in his face made her spin away from him in frustration. “We cannot have such a thing.”
She turned and marched back to where he stood to poke her finger into his bare chest. “We are married, sirrah. We have to find some middle ground.”
He grabbed her finger, wrapped her hand in his and held it tight against his hot, bare chest. “What is it that you want from me?”
She curled her fingers, surprised at the heat of his skin. Her gaze caught with his and was held by the anguish she saw there.
Her voice lowered, her anger gone. “I would be your wife, Nicholas.”
A range of emotions passed so quickly across his face that she couldn’t decipher them. She opened her mouth to explain, to try to convince him of the logic of her suggestion.
His gaze dropped to her lips, and he swooped in to capture her mouth with his.
She was unprepared for the assault. Her heart flew to her throat as he speared his tongue into her mouth. His lips moved skillfully against hers, causing her thoughts to scatter.
Only one word came to mind. More. She wanted more. Here was the passionate man she’d come to care for. He was the one who aroused her, who made her long for things she couldn’t have.
“You’ve no idea what you ask for,” he muttered as he skimmed his lips over her cheeks and brow.
“I only ask for you.”
“Then you ask too much.”
He crushed her to his hard length. Her arms were trapped between them, allowing her little access to the perfection of his form, the smoothness of his flesh. She struggled to free herself, eager to touch him.
Reluctantly, it seemed, he released her arms, then hissed when her chemise-clad body pressed against his bare chest.
Anxious to explore, Elizabeth ran her hands along his broad shoulders, in awe at the strength she found there, at the hard heat of him. She fit perfectly against him, her eyes in line with his chin as though they were meant for each other. She pressed her lips across his neck and up to his jaw.
“Christ, woman. You have no idea what you do.”
She halted, unsure if he meant that as an insult. “Then tell me. Show me.”
He backed her up until her legs were against the edge of the bed. His strong arms wrapped tight around her, making her feel like a precious object that he’d never let go. She felt wanted, desired, and the heady feeling spread warmth throughout her body. Her nipples were taut against the soft linen of her chemise, and when Nicholas reached up to cup her breast, she gasped. Heat built within her, and she shifted against him to assuage the sudden ache.
Nicholas nearly moaned when her body pressed against his. He clenched his jaw to keep his passion in check. Truly, she had no idea what she did to him with those graceful hands, those long fingers, her soft form moving within the circle of his arms. She was even more passionate than he could’ve guessed. Her response to his touch aroused him further.
Once again, her bare toes had disarmed him.
Her lips made their way across his neck, and he tipped his head back to give her better access.
He wanted her so badly he couldn’t stand it. The temptation to take what she offered overwhelmed him. He drew a deep breath to regain his sanity, but all he could smell was her sweet fragrance. Roses and sunshine.
This was madness. Pure madness.
He took her lips with his once again as he kneaded her breasts. The fabric of her chemise hid far too much. With one quick finger, he loosened the ribbon holding the neck and was rewarded when the garment fell off her shoulder. Another tug, and he could at last see the ripened fruit beneath.
Madness it might be, but he now welcomed the lunacy fogging his brain. Her rose-tipped breasts called for his touch, the softness of her skin at odds with his calloused fingers. The soft mounds overflowed his palms, generous in size as well as in the pleasure they gave him.
She sighed, her knees buckling as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Unable to resist, he held her tight as he pressed kisses along her collarbone, then lower still.
He stopped for a moment and raised his head.
She gave a cry of protest and opened her eyes.
“You are so beautiful,” he told her, holding her gaze for moment before bending to flick his tongue across her hard nipple.
The moan that escaped her lips pleased him. What could he do but please himself more? He suckled her breast, using his hand to massage her softness as his tongue laved the rosy tip.
Her breath came rapidly. He moved to her other breast to give it the same attention.
“Oh!” she cried. “That feels...amazing.”
“Aye, that it does,” he agreed as he continued his thorough attention.
“I would do the same for you. I want to make you feel as I do.”
He hardened even more at her words, not trusting himself to answer her. He was nearly past the point of caring about anything other than making this woman his own.
Elizabeth reached out to caress his chest, pausing at his nipple to pinch and roll it with her clever fingers.
He groaned and grabbed her hand to pull it away from him, certain that if she continued, he’d finish this before he even removed his chausses.
“Thank you,” she murmured in his ear as she kissed his jaw line and wrapped her arms around his neck.
With a great effort, he focus
ed on her words, trying to understand what she meant. “For what?”
“For allowing us to become husband and wife in truth.”
Her words had the same affect on him as a swim in the cold pond. What was he doing? He tried to clear his head, to push aside the passion burning within him. Though he wanted her desperately in this moment, what of the morrow? What of the next fortnight?
If he took her now, his body would be relieved, but what of his heart? What of justice for William?
Nay. Nay, this could not happen. Not now. Not ever. How could he have let his desire for her get this far?
He jerked back and grabbed her upper arms. He glared at her, unable to believe his stupidity. “Damn you. You nearly succeeded.”
Her brown eyes were clouded with passion, her expression puzzled. “Succeeded at what?”
“This is another attempt to seduce me.” He shook her. “You will not succeed.”
Shock splayed across her face. “Nay, Nicholas. That was never my intent – ”
He released her arms and took another step back. “Our original agreement stands. I will hold up my end of the bargain. I only ask that you do the same.”
She swallowed hard as she pulled up the neckline of her gown to cover herself. “You’re wrong.”
For a long moment, he wondered if she spoke the truth. What if he was wrong? What if her intentions were honorable? Surely, that could not be. Not after everything he’d done to her.
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, then coursing down her cheeks. “The day will soon come when you realize just how very wrong you are.”
Unable to bear the hurt on her face, he spun on his heel and left the chamber.
Chapter Fifteen
The bright morning sun lit the bailey and brought with it the promise of spring. Buds lined tree limbs, casting them in a velvet sheath of green, echoed in the emerald grass below.
The air held an underlying warmth that kindled hope after the dark, cold days of winter. Clouds hung on the horizon and threatened afternoon rain, but for the moment, the day promised to be a fine one.
Nicholas surveyed his holding with pride as he noted the touches spring had wrought along with the changes his men had made in the past week since his return.
Repairs were moving forward, mainly thanks to the funds he’d gained when he’d taken a wife. Both the blacksmith’s and the alemaker’s thatched roofs had already been fixed. Some men mended fences while others repaired damage to the curtain wall. He and his men-at-arms trained in the morning, then worked on the holding in the afternoon. Though much remained to be done, the progress felt good.
Then why couldn’t he shake the restless feeling that plagued him? Surely the cause of it was William, and it would fade if he recovered. Nay, he corrected himself. When William recovered.
Nicholas ran his hand through his hair, determined to focus on things in his control. Brom had sent a message saying that he’d not yet found out anything on the mystery of the sword with the green-eyed dragon hilt or its owner and so was traveling on to another location that held more promise of success. Nicholas knew the odds were against them to discover who the man was from the little information they had, but the pursuit was worth it to Nicholas.
Unfortunately, there was little more he could do for his brother. The apparent lack of William’s progress toward healing troubled him. If only he’d open his eyes. Mildred insisted he was getting better and that soon, he’d awaken. She also maintained that Nicholas would have Elizabeth to thank when he did. Nicholas had to admit that his wife seemed to be doing everything she could possibly think of in that area. She’d spent so much time dribbling that tea into his mouth, talking to him, keeping his room fresh and clean.
The complications their marriage had made to his life nearly outweighed the advantages. Nights were the most unbearable. Lying beside her in the dark without touching her was wreaking havoc on him. A dark part of him almost hoped she’d attempt to seduce him in full, for he was certain she’d succeed.
He’d waited for her to make another request to make their marriage a true one. He’d braced himself against the appeal of those big, brown eyes, prepared to reject her again with cool logic. But each evening when they retired, she acted as though he wasn’t even in the same room with her, let alone in the same bed. He’d seen enough of her back to last a lifetime.
Even as thoughts of her surfaced in his mind, she appeared as though to taunt him.
Christ.
Did the woman have to be everywhere?
Nicholas stared. How could he not? Her gown was a pale golden color, and the sun seemed to light it from within. Her slender, long-limbed form crossed the bailey with a unique grace that drew the eye. Well, his eye at least. He stifled a curse as he glanced around. Every male in the bailey had stopped to watch her as well.
It mattered not where he went. She was there or soon followed. Did she trail him on purpose? Was her intent to drive him mad? Nay, he decided after thinking it through for a moment. That could not be. She had no reason to follow him. Not after his rejection of her.
Annoyed with himself and her, he watched as she strode from the alemaker’s toward the blacksmith’s on the opposite side of the bailey. She stopped briefly to visit with the smithy who paused his work with his bellows to exchange a greeting with her. She left the man grinning and continued on to the small cottage that sat adjacent to it and disappeared inside.
Now what was she up to? What business could she have with the blacksmith’s wife? Walter should be keeping better watch over her. Nicholas followed in her wake, as if pulled along like the moon drew the tides. As he neared the small cottage, she stepped out into the sunshine with a small babe in her arms.
She glanced up at him as though surprised to see him there. Perhaps she wasn’t following him after all. “Good day, my lord.” Her smile for him was fleeting, for her attention was caught by the babe in her arms.
The infant seemed equally fascinated by her as they eyed each other with wonder and delight. The babe reached out its tiny fingers to catch hold of a strand of her hair that had come loose from the simple braid that trailed down her back.
The same impulse he’d had numerous times.
She held the infant as though to do so was the most natural thing in the world. As though the babe was hers.
Lord Crefton’s words came back to him: she has always wanted a family of her own.
Nicholas’s stomach dropped like a rock from a cliff. He’d stolen that dream from her, crushed it beneath his heel in his quest for vengeance. Even if he relented in his insistence that they never consummate their marriage, he didn’t want to have a child. He couldn’t risk passing on the curse he bore to another.
Unaware of his dark thoughts, Elizabeth chuckled at the infant’s firm grip as she freed her hair, the ring on her left hand winking at him in the sunlight. Her face shone with happiness as she looked at Nicholas to share the moment.
His heart didn’t have a chance.
“Have you met young Edgar?” she asked. “Isn’t he amazing?” She cooed at the infant as women seemed inclined to do.
A memory flashed through his mind of a happier time. He could see his mother looking down at William as a newborn, her face luminous. She’d pulled Nicholas close, eager to show him the babe. His heart squeezed at the memory.
“My lord?” Elizabeth looked up at him, her brow creased. “Does a headache plague you again?”
He stared at her, dismayed that she’d noticed. Surely she didn’t know what came with the headaches. For if she did, she’d look at him with horror, not the concern she displayed. “Nay. All is well.”
“Perhaps your lack of sleep wears on you.”
“I don’t believe you’re sleeping any better.”
She dropped her gaze, her face flushing.
“I’m fine,” he said as he reached out a finger to touch the baby’s cheek, amazed at the softness of his skin. “Edgar, is it?”
Henry, the smithy
and proud father of Edgar, put down the piece of iron he’d been hammering and walked over to them. “Good day, Lord de Bremont.” His grin was contagious, matched by his big size.
“That is a fine young lad you have, Henry. Well done.” Nicholas slapped the smithy on the shoulder.
“Thank you, my lord. He’ll be an excellent blacksmith in a few years, eh?” He laughed at his jest.
His wife stepped out of the cottage, wiping her hands on a cloth. She dropped a curtsy to Nicholas. “We’ve been praying for Sir William’s recovery, my lord. How is he farin’?”
“About the same.” Nicholas glanced down at Elizabeth, but she continued to play with the babe.
“’Tis a terrible thing, my lord. Just terrible,” the smithy’s wife exclaimed. “What kind of person would abandon him at the gate like that? In a cart, no less.” She shook her head, her disgust obvious.
Nicholas watched his wife, saw her stiffen at the woman’s words. Saw her radiance vanish like a candle’s flame suddenly extinguished. She kept her gaze on young Edgar.
Nicholas waited for her to hand the child back to its mother and flee.
Instead, she raised her chin. “Mayhap the person had no other choice and did what he thought best.” She caught Nicholas’s gaze. “Perhaps we’ll hear the truth of the matter one day and thank the person for returning Sir William to his brother. Who better to care for William than Lord de Bremont?”
Startled, the smithy’s wife glanced between Nicholas and Elizabeth, then sent a confused look to her husband. “I never thought of it quite like that. I’m certain you have the right of it, my lady.”
Elizabeth nodded as she held the woman’s gaze.
Nicholas pushed away the doubt and guilt her words brought. He hoped Elizabeth realized that he’d never accept her explanation, regardless of what the villagers thought or how many might take her side.
What she and her father had done was wrong, and he’d continue to make them both pay. Justice was on his side, of that he had no doubt.
Never mind that the need for justice seemed to have disappeared from his heart, leaving him longing for something else entirely.
Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me Page 14