by Rue Allyn
She watched as her challenge ripped at his tight control.
“Would I not? You are in greater danger now than you were from those beggars, because I do not beg.”
His leather and musk scent overwhelmed her. She shivered and forgot to breathe. Her head swam. He was too close. Thank the Madonna for the shrine at her back that kept her from fainting dead away.
Then he pulled her to him, and only his arms supported her. One hand tunneled into her hair, holding her in place for him to taste her mouth. With the press of his chest against her bosom, twinges and prickles sprang to life in her breasts. She moved against him in a vain attempt to ease the building sensations. His other hand streaked down her back to fondle and cup her buttocks. He dragged her hips between the notch of his thighs. The swelling beneath his breeches burned heat into her belly. An aching, empty yearning bloomed in her womb.
He nipped at her lower lip, and she opened to him. She surrendered to the welling need to taste his musky flavor, stroke his hard body, and wallow in his heat. Passion burned dark and glorious in a world where she thrived on his scent, his touch, his kiss.
When his lips lifted and his arms released her, the world turned ashen and cold. The remnants of desire shuddered away. Breathless, she huddled back against the shrine, unsteady and unsure what had just happened or what she thought. She blinked at Robert, who stood a good two arms’ lengths distant, staring at her.
The silence stretched until he shifted his glance. “Forgive me, Lady Juliana. That was a mistake and should never have happened.”
But it had happened, and life would never be the same. Still shaken and unable to speak, she nodded.
He frowned and bent to pick up his gelding’s reins. “I believe you now understand the consequences of going about alone, or must I restrain you physically?”
She pursed her lips, trying desperately to gather her thoughts and re-form her smile. He was right. That kiss had been a disastrous mistake; she could not afford to repeat it. “Save your threats. In the spirit of cooperation, I promise not to stop again without telling you first.”
“That is most generous of you.” He pulled his horse away by two steps, but his darkling-green gaze held her in place. “However, you will not stop at all unless I give you leave.”
Her chin rose, and she squared her shoulders. “Need I remind you, Sir Robert, that you possess no authority over my person or actions?”
He gave her back smile for smile. “Oh, but I do have authority. You, yourself, gave it me.”
She sucked in a gasp and held on to the much-needed air. The man had an alarming tendency to use her own weapons against her. “Explain, please.”
“You convinced me to guide this caravan by giving your promise to be a most cooperative traveler.”
“Do you suggest I have been less than cooperative?”
“When I must leave my guide’s duties to come in search of you, when you constantly slow the caravan and endanger yourself—in a word, aye. Now, get back in line!” he shouted.
Startled, she jumped, but her smile never wavered. “Before I accept your so gracious invitation to rejoin my companions, I would have a word with you.”
Robert inhaled slowly. “Now what?”
“I noticed that today instead of leading us south, you are guiding us in a westerly direction.”
“I am the guide. ’Tis my duty to choose the path.”
“Yes, of course. But you see, Palermo lies to the south, not to the west.”
“True, but I choose to get there by going west.”
She allowed only a small sigh to break her pretense of calm. “That isn’t possible.”
“On the contrary, Genoa and the Mediterranean Sea lie to the west. Travel by sea is faster than travel by land. In Genoa, we will place your friends aboard a ship that will take them to Palermo. You and I will find a ship destined for England and begin our journey back to Edward.”
How to evade his plans? She refused to marry, hence she could not return to England. She nearly bit her lip in worry.
“I promised to return to England, but I did not say when, and I will not leave my Beguine sisters until our work in Palermo is complete. Besides, you promised to guide us all the way to Palermo.”
“I have decided that you will fulfill your promise in Genoa, and on shipboard a guide is unnecessary.”
His lips, so recently pressed to hers, distracted her. Patience is a virtue. “Unfortunately, we haven’t enough gold to pay for a ship to take us the length of Italy,” she said sweetly.
“But I have.”
“Truly? Enough for all in the caravan?” How much gold? This journey had proven much more expensive than any of them imagined, and the funds brought to aid their sisters in Palermo dwindled daily. Did Sir Robert have sufficient to help restore the Beguine community?
“No, in Genoa, I will arrange another guide for those who cannot take ship.”
“You have considered everything.” By the rood! The man is entirely too determined and too forceful. Albeit his forcefulness can be most pleasant. The thought sprang unwanted to her mind, and she gave herself a mental shake in warning not to be misled by desire.
“’Tis what a guide must do.”
Frustration heated her face, and she hurried to end the conversation before she could lose her composure. “I could not have done better myself. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
She turned on her heel and hurried to rejoin the caravan.
• • •
Robert stood on the dock in Genoa but didn’t really see the travelers who would get to Palermo by sea. His mind’s eye watched Juliana walk away after their confrontation at the shrine. Her hips swayed, but her shoulders were stiff despite that infernal smile. He had kept watch until she was safe with her fellow Beguines. Just like their other recent encounters, he had triumphed. Her smiling armor served no purpose. She did as she was bid. Surely that meant he had won the victory.
But that kiss, meant to prove the danger she courted when going about alone, had proven more than dangerous to him. He now knew the taste and feel of her and only wanted more. That was a hazard neither of them could afford.
Juliana and her party stood ready to board the ship, giving way on the narrow wooden plank to other travelers. Then the ship’s master strode down that same gangway.
“I am so sorry, signore,” he said to Robert, carefully turning aside from Juliana. “But there is no room for more on my ship.”
“You claimed you could provide passage for all. ’Tis why I waited for you and allowed the other ships to sail without boarding any from our caravan on them.”
The man glanced back at the Beguines. “Walk with me a bit, sir.” He paced down the dock, stopping on the far side of a stack of barrels. If Robert wanted to deal with the man, he had to follow.
“I regret I made that claim before I was told you had them in your party.” The captain cast his head backward at Lady Juliana and her group.
“Them? They are women and servants. You already have such on your ship.”
“But I cannot take more, sir,” the seaman asserted. “Please understand, were my ship empty, I would not have room for Beguines.”
“Why?”
The man looked around, as if afraid to be overheard. “Il Mano de Dei, the hand of God,” he whispered. “Fra Basti has spies everywhere. To carry those women would brand me a heretic. I am a good man. I attend mass, confess my sins, and do penance. I feed and clothe my wife and babes. Do not ask me to take Beguines on board. I will not do it. I’ll not leave my children fatherless.”
Anger and frustration dashed through Robert in a mad race for supremacy. His fist struck a barrel, knocking it on its side, where it rolled and wobbled.
The captain jumped back. “Sir! You c-cannot blame me.”
“Nay, I cannot.” Robert fisted his hands in his hair and tugged. “You will have to tell your passengers that I no longer act as their guide. My duty lies in protecting these women.”
> The captain looked at him with horrified sympathy.
“God save you, then. I will carry your message.” He turned on his heel and marched back to his ship. In short order the plank lifted, the ropes were cast off, and the ship left the dock.
• • •
In confusion, Juliana watched the ship depart without them. She fixed her smile, folded her hands, and went to where Robert stood staring after the vessel. “Sir Robert?”
He turned and studied her.
“Why are we not aboard that ship?”
His reply was delayed, and his glance shifted back and forth as if he debated with himself what to say.
She waited, impatient but careful, not knowing his mood.
He cleared his throat. “Should the captain carry Beguines on his ship, he fears retribution from a priest named Basti. You said you had dealings with this priest. Tell me what you know of him.”
Basti! Juliana tried to swallow and smile at the same time. “H-he hates all Beguines. He calls us heretics for our belief that women should live independently and the church need not intervene with God for the sake of human souls. He is known to persecute, even torture, heretics most zealously. Indeed I’ve heard rumors that he has tried a number of Beguines for heresy and had them burned at the stake when they refused to recant.”
Sir Robert now knew enough, she decided. No need to relate her personal experience with the vengeful priest.
“Then we must leave Genoa with all possible speed.”
She looked along the empty quay in both directions. “That was the last ship.”
“Genoa is a busy port. There will be more tomorrow,” he snapped, then seized her arm. “Come, we must find lodging for the night.” His great strides ate up the distance to the rest of their party.
“Aye, lodging is certainly desirable, but there is no need to pull at me. I can walk.”
“’Tis late. We must hurry before all the rooms are let to other travelers.”
Juliana gazed at the nooning sky. Obviously he didn’t speak of the time. She tugged her arm free and stopped. “Is Basti here?”
“I do not know. The captain spoke of spies.”
“Do not tell Berthild and Gretle.” She did not want the older women to worry needlessly.
“I had not planned to.”
“Nor had you planned to tell me.”
She followed his gaze as he scanned the area around them. She saw no one.
Robert gripped her arm, leading her forward once more. “We will discuss this later, after we find lodgings.”
She nodded and, easing from his grasp, scurried to her friends. She repeated the story of insufficient room on the ship. Then, friends, servants, and four mules in tow, she set off in Robert’s wake with as much speed as possible.
Juliana prayed none of Basti’s ears had heard the captain’s reasons for refusing to give them passage on his ship. The mission to restore the beguinage in Palermo and protect the secrets kept there was too important to fail now. She had to believe they would escape notice.
• • •
Robert entered the inn with a growl of frustration. A full day had passed since he’d hidden Juliana at this inn. He’d left at sunrise for the docks, and despite the arrival of five new ships, he had failed to find a sound ship or willing captain to carry the Beguines to Palermo. He slapped his gloves impatiently against his thigh.
Not a single one of the captains he approached would speak more than a few words to him. They all seemed to know he wanted transport for Beguines. If that many men knew, then ’twas only a matter of time before Basti or his deputies came knocking at their door.
One sailor had spoken at great length about the fear Basti created, especially while the priest was in the city for today’s execution of a heretic. Robert had left immediately for the inn. As he went, he noticed small groups traveling toward the piazza and gathering along the street.
Executions were free entertainment. Rich and poor, noble and serf, all would gather to watch the life snuffed from a fellow human being. Some would shake their heads, perhaps even weep. The majority would cheer and afterward celebrate their own lives in a night of carousing. Too often for comfort, the celebrating crowds would turn ugly, their good sense drowned in drink. ’Twas an opportunity rife for innocents to come to harm. He had to get back to the Beguines. He must be certain they were all safe.
“Juliana,” he bellowed, striding up the inn stairs. He needed to see her, to ease his concern and his temper in her infinite calm.
Berthild emerged from the private sitting room he had procured for their use. “She is not here, Sir Robert.”
“What?” he shouted. “She would not be so foolish!”
“Rein your temper, sirrah. I can hear quite well,” the Beguine scolded. “Juliana is not foolish. She suspected you were having trouble getting a ship, so she went to see what she could do to help.”
“Not foolish? The woman goes wandering a strange city alone when a man with Basti’s reputation and authority is known to be in the area. How much more foolish can she be?” Robert felt his face and neck heat. Strong emotion tightened around his chest. With that crowd out there, ’twould be near impossible to find Juliana.
Berthild paled at the mention of the priest’s name, but she squared her shoulders and met Robert’s gaze head-on.
“Hidden as we are at this inn, we knew not of Basti’s presence here. You are right to be concerned, Sir Robert. However, Juliana took your last warning to heart. She had Henry accompany her.”
The pressure in Robert’s chest eased a mite. Henry was near as tall as Robert himself and could be seen above the crowd. Also, the groom’s loyalty to Juliana could not be questioned. “Where did she go?”
“She told us she would go to the docks and nowhere else.”
“Good.” He had probably missed her in the throng. He would retrace his steps, looking for Henry’s shaggy head. The mob might be a problem, but with luck and the use of his size and strength, he would find Juliana and bring her back to the inn before disaster struck. Now that he had a plan, his ire receded. “You and Gretle stay put. I will find Lady Juliana.”
“I pray that you do.”
“So do I, Berthild. So do I.” Worry churning in his stomach, Robert set out to find his wayward Beguine.
Chapter 4
Juliana held on to the tail of Henry’s jerkin as he pushed his way through the crowd toward their inn. Where had all these people come from? ’Twas no major feast day, nor was it market day. In fact, with summer at its height ’twould be a while before even market day drew such a crowd. She wished she understood the language better. The throng chattered wildly, but they might as well have been magpies for her ability to comprehend.
“Henry, can you see what’s happening?” she shouted over the noise.
“Nay, milady.” He slowed to answer her.
A mass of people surged toward the road, and the sudden movement separated her from Henry. She was swept along with the multitude, her protests lost in the roar of voices.
She tried to turn back and found herself nearly trampled. She had no choice but to move with the flood of bodies toward the street. The swiftness of her progress was as exhilarating as the lack of control was frightening. Curiosity buoyed her above the panic bubbling in her gut. Where would she end up? Worry for Henry dropped her down at the front of the crowd on the edge of the roadway. Amazingly a thin path had been left open through the midst of the mob. Just as surprising, the noise of voices faded.
Juliana heard drums. She looked in the direction of that doleful rhythm.
Three drummers preceded three cowled, black-robed priests through the narrow lane. Others followed but were too far back for Juliana to see.
She craned her neck.
Hands grabbed her waist and lifted her above the crowd.
“Nay!” she cried, scared beyond reason.
A few nearby heads turned. She saw several men shift as if to help her, while the hands pulled and tur
ned her through the air to land against Sir Robert’s solid chest.
Relief stole her breath, and she inhaled deeply. “Thank—”
He covered her mouth with his own. “Pretend you like this, or the mob will tear us apart,” he growled against her lips.
She had no chance to answer and no need to pretend. As she already knew, she liked his kisses too much. The moment she opened her lips, he thrust his tongue within, locking her to him.
Roaring filled her ears, and her entire body went lax. He pulled her tighter against him. His arms kept her from falling. His taste filled her mouth. His scent washed through her. She twisted her fingers in the hair at his nape and kissed him back. Sweet, succulent, searing hot kisses.
Her heart beat a rapid counterpoint to the drums that sounded at her back. The drums! The priests. She was in the midst of a crowd, kissing Robert as a holy procession passed by. She broke the kiss, turned her head, and pushed against his chest.
She wanted to see what was happening. She needed to distance herself from terrifying pleasure.
She strained away from him but could not loosen his hold on her body. Faces leered at her, mouthing words she had no hope of understanding, but their crude meaning was clear in the lewd expressions and gestures of the speakers.
“We need to leave here, Juliana.” The drums nearly drowned Robert’s voice.
She looked up the street and stared into the vacant eyes of the most brutalized woman she had ever seen. Tattered rags provided scant covering for the pitiful creature who carried a large bundle of sticks on her back. Though how she managed to walk, Juliana did not know, for the woman’s feet were black with burns and bruises. Blood streaked her legs and arms. Swelling and cuts marred a once pretty face. Her jaw hung slack as if it had been broken. She slowed as she passed, and the priest who walked behind the wretch prodded her in the buttocks with a sharp metal rod.
Juliana sagged back against Robert, seeking shelter in the arms she had so recently fought to escape.
The procession passed, with the last of the priests intoning in Latin. This Juliana understood.
“Listen, and know that for the sins of heresy and pride, the Beguine known as Sorella Seraphina della Matina is condemned to burn in hell, as will all who defy God and his commandments. This by the order of Fra Giorgio Basti, Il Mano de Dei.” The voice droned on, but Juliana did not need to hear more. Sickened to the depths of her soul, she bent her head to her knight’s broad shoulder and wept.