She stood, paralyzed, fighting with her emotions, when Derek emerged from the lake. Hadn’t she heard somewhere that men took cold showers to cool their sexual appetites? Well, she’d have to tell all the world when she returned that cold water didn’t always work. She had indisputable proof coming right at her. She couldn’t move. She had turned into bark and was now a fundamental part of the tree behind her.
Derek didn’t just walk toward her; he hypnotized her, his gaze hot and mercurial as he came toward her. He appeared feral, as if he were hunting her down without benefit of any weapons. Except perhaps one very large, dangerous yet unique looking weapon. Her cheeks flared with heat. What was it about this man that made her lose all sense?
Without another single thought, she put her body in motion and ran. She ran as fast as she could, toward the only thing that could get her away fast enough and far enough. She ran toward the horse.
~~~~
Derek watched with amusement as his betrothed tried hopelessly to mount his steed. His stallion swished its tail and let out a few whinnied snorts as though she were naught but an irritating fly.
Openly frustrated, she attempted her fourth jump onto the horse’s back. She grasped at its mane and wiggled her legs until she was almost three-quarters of the way up, straining, until finally she reached the top of the animal.
Derek headed that way and reached out a hand to stop her, but it was too late. She dug her heals into the horse’s flanks, unaware that this particular stallion needed no goading. The horse reared up and took off in a blinding flash with Lady Amanda clinging dearly to its neck.
Hastily, he grabbed his breeches and yanked them on. In the distance he could see that the reins were about the horse’s neck, but the straps were not within her hands. She clearly had no idea what she was doing. Apparently she wished to live, though, since she leaned low against the horse’s neck to prevent being clunked in the head by a tree branch.
Every muscle he possessed grew taut. Bloody hell. ‘Twas his favorite steed and he had no wish to see the animal hurt. The horse raced into the denser area of the forest, weaving through trees and jumping over small bushes. Derek heard naught but the cracking of branches as he made his way into the forest.
The wench was daft. Clearly Emmon had been wrong about Lady Amanda being an experienced rider. The woman had no clue as to what she was doing.
Derek whistled as he jumped over a low shrub following the path of broken tree limbs. One signal from his lips was all it usually took to get his steed to return to his side. He used the whistle as a signal for hunting when he needed to leave the animal behind and sneak up on his prey, after which he would signal for the horse’s return. But no one had ever been foolish enough to take his horse before. The animal needed only a small jerk of the reins or a click of the tongue. God’s teeth! Not a kick in the ribs.
He whistled once more, emitting a loud shrill. He kept running, too, grunting with relief when he finally heard the familiar neigh of his horse. His heart stopped when he saw his stallion heading toward him without a rider on its back.
Seconds later he observed the wench hobbling through the last of the thick underbrush. Twigs dangled from her hair and dirt smudged her face. Before reaching him, she crumbled to the ground in one small heap.
~~~~
Morgan opened her eyes. She was numb. So numb she wasn’t even sure if she was alive. Not until she looked up into stormy black eyes as Derek hovered over her. Obviously Mr. Vanguard was not impressed with her riding skills. The tic in his jaw was deeper than ever. But at least he had put on his pants. Now when she looked away from his piercing stare, she had only his naked chest with black curly hair trailing eagerly downward to gaze at. “You’re angry, aren’t you?”
“Damn it, wench,” he ground out, “you could have been killed.”
She pushed herself to her feet. “I’m sorry,” she offered, rubbing a sore arm, “but you have to admit this was all your fault.”
He shook his head as he walked back toward his horse. He pulled the reins from around the animal’s neck and led the animal back through the trees to where the remainder of his clothes lay.
She heard him mutter something about an addle-pated monkey. Frowning, she hobbled in pursuit of him, afraid he would leave her in the forest to fend for herself. “I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I thought that after the way you treated me last night, you would at least apologize. One minute I’m convinced you care for me in an odd, medieval sort of way, and in the next minute you act as though I don’t exist.”
A splay of muscles flexed as he donned his tunic, rendering her temporarily speechless. She rolled her eyes at how easily he could distract her. “Don’t you have anything to say at all?”
He focused his attention on adjusting the leather sash around his waist.
“Fine then; don’t talk to me.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “You know what really bothers me, though?”
He finished with the ties on his shirt and looked into her eyes. “Would it stop your prattle were I to tell you I do not care to know?”
“What really gets my goat,” she went on, ignoring his remark, “is that you drag me here, expecting me to…” Her stomach fluttered. “You know…act as if I’m going to be thrilled at the prospect of…”
The corner of his mouth turned upward.
At a sudden loss for words, she wondered why she’d started this conversation in the first place.
“Continue, please,” he said. “You suddenly have me vastly curious as to what you believe I expected of you.”
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll tell you. You brought me here fully expecting that we would make love to one another.”
“Ha!” he said, startling her. “You are wrong.”
Her insides tumbled. “I am?”
“Aye. Two people can only make love, you see, if they are in love. I do not love you. Do you love me?”
“Of course not, but—”
He raised a hand. “Let us clear the air, so to speak. You wanted me and I wanted you. No use denying the truth,” he added huskily. “‘Twas made plain in every ragged breath you took last night and in every candidly scorching gaze you have sent my way since our first meeting.”
Her mouth fell open.
He stepped close, smoothing the palm of his hand up the column of her neck. “We both know I brought you here in hopes that you would be a willing participant in some meaningless, yet highly intensive sex.” He dropped his hand. “Clear enough?”
She let out a helpless sigh as she realized she was a glutton for punishment. The way he touched her, not to mention listening to him speak so candidly made shivers coarse over every part of her. “Patently clear,” she said softly. “But this entire conversation has nothing to do with the point I was first trying to make.”
“Pray tell, please make your point, madam, before the sun goes off and leaves us for good.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” she said. “You make fun of me every chance you get. And when you’re not doing that, you’re bombarding me with charming advances and hasty exits until my head is left spinning like the vanes of a windmill. Where I come from, the man brings the woman flowers, maybe a note, perhaps a kind word. Anything to make the woman at least feel like kissing…or what you might refer to as two interacting bodies going at it.”
“Hmmm,” he said, scratching his chin. “I fair say your description is unappealing at best.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “But please answer me this: why is it that the other night you seemed more than willing?” He rubbed again at his stubbled jaw. “I do not recall bringing flowers, nor sending any note before then.”
“Oh, forget it,” she said exasperated. “I don’t know why I bother talking to you at all. Besides, if you ever brought me flowers I would fall over dead from shock.”
Derek gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and started off. After a moment he glanced back her way and saw that she’d hardly moved. Hastily, he returned to he
r side. “You can hardly walk. Let me see to your injuries.”
“Don’t bother,” she said.
“You are hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“I am going to take a look with or without your permission. The choice is yours.”
“Fine.” She lifted her torn dress and watched him wince at the sight of red and blue marks against her pale skin.
With a click of his tongue, Derek called his horse to his side once again. He shuffled through the leather pouch attached to the girth and came up with a tin box filled with a greasy concoction. Plunking down on one knee, he began to apply the ointment to her thigh.
She sucked in a breath, feeling no pain, only the gentle touch of his fingers. When he finished, she wasn’t sure whether she felt relief or disappointment.
“That was a foolish thing you did,” he said.
“I know.”
He seemed taken aback by her quick agreement. After putting the ointment away, he pivoted back around and leaned forward.
Sure that he was going to kiss her and forgetting all about not wanting anything to do with him, she closed her eyes and waited with tingly anticipation for the feel of his warm lips on hers. His hands gripped both sides of her waist instead. A gasp escaped her as he raised her high in the air and plopped her on his horse.
Taking hold of the reins, he flashed her one of his subtle looks that said “gotcha,” before leading them homeward.
“There, you did it again,” she said.
“And what is that?” he asked without glancing back at her.
“Oh, never mind.” Her thoughts tumbled as she wondered what she was going to do about him.
CHAPTER 7
Days later, Derek shut his ledger and looked across his writing table at Emmon. “I thought you told me Lady Amanda could ride as well as any man.”
“My lord, the woman is trouble,” Emmon said, exasperation lining his voice. “She is a two-timing thief who continues to weave a maze of falsehoods day after day…” Emmon paused in mid sentence. “I apologize, my lord, but the wench…I mean the lady sorely raises my ire. Was it not you who taught me that women ply men with ale and strange herbs so they can take their moneybag while they are sleeping? Well, you were right about that, except this one took my horse instead.”
Derek rubbed his jaw, trying to hide the amusement the young knight provided him.
“When Hugo and I followed Lady Amanda’s trail after she escaped ‘twas obvious she was a skilled rider. She rode as fast as any storm, she did.”
“I do not understand it,” Derek said. “That was no act she put on the other day. She has not a clue as to how to ride a horse properly. She could barely sit on the animal without teetering to one side.”
“I am telling you she has gotten under your skin, my lord. Like a leech, and even now—”
“You do not trust her,” Derek broke in.
“Nay, I do not. I saw her swim like a mermaid, but it would not surprise me if suddenly she could not paddle her way out of a puddle. It is a pity, my lord, that the king has linked you with one such as her.”
Derek leaned forward and placed a fatherly hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. “I have taught you well…mayhap too well.”
After Emmon left his study, Derek wondered if perhaps he had been too hard on the boy in the past. As his squire, the boy had needed toughening. Derek could see he had succeeded in that regard. Like himself, Emmon had no patience for wasting time, and dawdling with a woman was just that.
~~~~
“I thought I made it clear to you both that Lady Amanda’s running off in the forest was to be kept quiet,” Matti said to Hugo and Emmon, fixing them both with a disappointed scowl now that she had them alone in the sewing room. “It is difficult enough getting Lord Vanguard’s cooperation with his impending marriage without you two adding sticks to the fire.”
“More than a dozen men learned of Lady Amanda’s folly before Hugo sent them back to Braddock with her maid.” Emmon lowered his voice, “‘Tis only right I should also tell Lord Vanguard I saw his betrothed in the arms of her lover.”
Matti shook her head. “Your eagerness to be rid of Lady Amanda is growing tiresome. You said yourself it was a one-sided kiss. If Robert DeChaville jumped from a tree as you said, then surely she was not expecting to run into him.”
“‘Twas a kiss nonetheless,” Emmon muttered, “and his lordship would surely put her in the dungeon for that. The two of you are playing Cupid and unwittingly making a fool of his lordship. I no longer wish to play a part in your ludicrous matchmaking games.”
Hugo put a firm yet friendly arm about the boy’s shoulder. “Emmon, my boy. You have already been sworn to secrecy on the matter. And although you have made it clear you are not happy with Lady Amanda, have you ever seen Lord Vanguard look happier? Do you not want to see his lordship contentedly settled?”
“‘Tis obvious to me,” Emmon said, “that she is not of the settling sort. Peculiar is what she is.”
“Aye, she is odd at times,” Hugo agreed, “but I, for one, like her courage.”
Matti smiled and said, “Indeed. And she is a friendly lass. The castle children adore her already.”
“No need to worry about Lord Vanguard squashing her spirit as we first thought,” Hugo chimed in as he returned to sit on a stool.
Emmon crossed his arms in exasperation and kept quiet.
“I surmise Lord Vanguard may have found his match,” Matti said thoughtfully, “whether he cared to or not.”
Hugo gazed fondly at his wife. They both knew if there was one thing Lord Vanguard needed it was a trace of happiness. Something the entire castle could use about now.
~~~~
Derek’s eyes stung as he made his way down the narrow hallway toward his bedchamber. Once again he had worked well into the night without rest. Ever since his steward had run off, he had been burning the candles into the wee hours. He stopped abruptly when he saw Hugo standing like a sentry before Amanda’s bedchamber door. “How is she?” Derek asked Hugo.
“I am afraid she is not faring well, my lord.”
Derek stiffened. “What do you say? She had but a few scrapes and bruises.”
“Matti is with her now but it seems her ladyship could scarcely walk this morning. Her injuries are far worse than you surmised. Naught to fret about, though, my lord, a physician will be here soon to look after her.” Hugo gazed about dispiritedly as if he were already mourning the death of her.
“I will see for myself.” Derek moved toward the door.
“Take these in for me, will you?” Hugo grabbed a bouquet of flowers from a vase on the hall table and shoved them into Derek’s hands before he could protest.
Derek stepped quietly into Lady Amanda’s bedchamber. When he saw her happily sharing stories with Matti, he felt his hackles rise. Here he stood, he thought, brimming with concern and looking a foolish sop with flowers in hand. And for a wench, no less, whom he had vowed only yesterday to avoid at all times.
Matti smiled and stood, stifling a chuckle as she swept past him, making a quick exit.
He watched Amanda maneuver within the bed to see who had entered. Her chin instantly began a haughty upward climb until she spotted the flowers in his hands. Only then did her icy reserve melt as fast as snow on hot timber. “For me?”
“I am afraid so.”
“You are ‘afraid so’?”
He sighed as he headed her way and merely thrust the flowers toward her. “I mean naught by it. Here, take them. Now what is this I hear about you not being able to walk?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I can walk. It hardly hurts anymore.” She pulled the coverlet aside and raised the thin chemise to her knees. “I mean honestly, the fuss Hugo and Matti have been making these last few days is ridiculous.”
A prickly, lusty heat charged through him, and he gritted his teeth to think her bare knees alone could give him pause. Other than a fading bruise and a few well-healed scratches, her creamy
skin was very nearly unblemished. He bristled as it suddenly dawned on him that Hugo and Matti were up to something. Even the flowers, he would bet, were part of their plan. Always scheming, those two. “Raise your gown higher so I can see the extent of your injuries.”
“Nice try,” she said wryly.
He crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’re serious?”
He nodded.
She let out a ponderous breath. “You aren’t going to leave until I show you, are you?”
“Nay.”
A burst of modesty must have consumed her, Derek mused, for she rambled on suddenly as if she hoped to scare him off with her chatter. It was working, too, he thought resentfully. “For two days,” she said, “I have been held captive in this room without one visit from you. But now you barge in here, throw me a handful of flowers…” she glanced wistfully at the colorful blooms, “demanding I show you my body. You’re truly unbelievable.”
He merely cocked a brow and waited.
“Fine, here, take a look.” She yanked the silky fabric upward, revealing the upper area of her pale slender thighs.
His throat went dry.
“See? All wounds are healing nicely.” She stretched the gown to her ankles, threw the bedcover over her lap and then looked up at him. “Satisfied?”
“Nay,” he answered, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
She inhaled sharply as he slid the coverlet back down. Slowly he raised the hem of her gown, watching how the silky fabric clung to her shapely legs as he revealed her bare legs once more. Using the ointment Matti had left behind, he felt her body tense slightly when his salve-covered fingers touched her warm skin.
“Nice flowers,” she said, her voice quavering. “Are those the roses Emmon grew?”
Much more interested in watching the goose bumps appear as his fingers slid across her smooth thigh, he paid her no heed. Her skin was as soft as goose feathers. Through the silk chemise he could see her body’s reaction to his touch.
Return of the Rose Page 9