She gasped and opened her mouth, inviting him onward as a flower invites a bee to explore its secrets. Angus deepened his kiss, tasting her more deeply without intending to do any such thing. He found himself easing his weight over her, sheltering her beneath him, savoring her soft heat.
His hand found the perfection of her breast, the merest touch of his fingertips making the nipple bead beneath his hand. His fingers curved around her fullness, seemingly of their own volition. He caressed her, heard her gasp, felt her arch against him.
And his desire raged. Zounds, but he wanted her.
Dimly he was aware that the door to the hut opened, for a cool draft touched him, but her tongue touched his tentatively and he forgot all else. Her hand, so small, so fragile, so feminine, fell upon his shoulder, her very uncertainty making him want to shield her from all the ills this world might offer.
’Twas all new to her, he knew it well, and a part of him savored that he not only had the chance to introduce her to pleasure but that he did so to her evident delight.
Indeed, the darkness that rode with Angus every day drew slightly aside. She had inadvertently shared with him a moment of awakening, of innocence, of the discovery of a new wonder. That she should trust him with something both so great and so little as a first kiss let a ray of unexpected sunshine touch his hardened heart.
A memory of his mother’s garden appeared suddenly in his mind, that familiar space flooded with sunlight, humming with bees, adorned in the raiment of a thousand different flowers, each bobbing in the summer breeze. He heard the sparkle of his mother’s laughter once more, a sound he had thought forgotten for all time.
He wanted more, he wanted all she had to grant. He slanted his mouth across the maiden’s lips and hungrily deepened his kiss.
“So this is to be the way of it?” Rodney demanded. “I am to sleep in the rain with the steeds, cold and hungry, while you take your pleasure abed with the wench? Was that a part of your scheme? If so, I knew naught of it!”
At the sound of his companion’s voice, the darkness returned, as surely as a prison door slamming, the key turning in the lock to abandon him to the terrors of captivity. Angus was immediately reminded of all he had lost, of all that had been stolen from him, of all the dues he had been compelled to pay.
He tore his lips from his captive’s, hardened himself against the way her eyes widened in awe. Her lips were ripe and ruddy, bruised from his touch; she looked disheveled and willing.
But she was a madness in his blood, this one. She distracted him from his purpose, and he could suffer naught that might lead to failure. Rodney’s persistent tirades against the charms of women echoed through his thoughts, and Angus fortified his will against this one. He had meant to frighten her, after all, though she had readily persuaded him to forget that detail.
In compense for his failure, he acted quickly. He let a cold smile curve his lips and tightened his fingers over her breast.
“Forgive me, Rodney,” he said, his gaze fixed upon her, watching as dismay lit those fine eyes. “’Twould have been rude not to partake of the feast the lady offered.”
She gasped in horror, but Angus bent and kissed her hard, sliding his tongue between her lips with an aggression that startled them both.
Then he rolled away and stood, apparently indifferent, though he was not. He told himself that her disgust should please him as he got to his feet, then slid his blade into its scabbard without another glance to his captive. Angus ignored both the weight of the woman’s gaze upon him and the censure in Edana’s expression.
Yet his gut curled with guilt that he had wrought naught but ill when he sought to right a wrong. This innocent maiden wanted only to pledge herself to the faith, and he was knave enough that he could not be kept from tainting her with his touch. A prolonged captivity surely would keep her from her only goal.
Angus knew, whatever the wrongs committed against him, he had no right to steal his captive’s dream. But if he released her, he would be left with naught once again and would become a hunted brigand as well.
Nay, there was but one solution. In that moment, he dismissed his original intent to let the woman’s father fret for a week before demanding his due. Rodney would ride out this very day. This matter had to be resolved and soon, lest it not come to success after all. He would have Airdfinnan and be rid of his captive before he was fool enough to err again.
“You have changed much,” Edana whispered as he passed her side. Her tight lips revealed her view of that change.
Angus was sufficiently angered with himself to need no criticism from another. He paused, staring down long enough that she might see the fury that burned coldly within him.
Edana flinched and drew back.
But ’twas better if they thought him a cold-hearted knave, if the maiden feared him and stayed from his path. That way there was less chance that he might lose the only advantage he had in this endeavor.
“Aye,” Angus murmured with rare heat, “that I have, and woe to any so foolish as to stand in my path.”
With that, he marched out into the gentle rain of the morning, haunted by the lingering sweetness of the maiden’s kiss.
Chapter 6
Jacqueline was mortified. Not only had she invited Angus to kiss her, but she had enjoyed his touch.
At first. That parting kiss, though, had stolen away both her surprise and pleasure. Aye, he revealed then what he thought of her, and she recalled all her mother’s admonitions to her half-sister Alienor on the comport of whores.
Her cheeks burned with shame and she could not meet Edana’s gaze. She sat up and pushed her hair from her brow, unwilling to remain abed where he had touched her thus.
Edana’s stare was too unswerving to grant Jacqueline any faith that her discomfort was truly hidden. Her braid had loosened during the night and she made to unfurl the tangle, hiding her face beneath its golden curtain. Her fingers shook as she unknotted the lace, the task taking longer than ever it did. Even behind her hair, she knew that Edana watched her, unblinking, like her mother’s prized peregrine.
A heavy silence pushed at Jacqueline’s ears, until she thought she could bear it no longer without screaming. Suddenly Edana shoved to her feet, her cane tapping as she crossed the hut. To Jacqueline’s relief, the old woman did not come to her or speak to her.
Not immediately. Once the fire was lit in the small brazier and a dented pot of water was set to heat, Edana rummaged through a small chest, then offered something. Jacqueline pretended not to see the gesture, an easy deed since she had bent her head so that her tangled hair spilled forward.
“’Tis a comb, lass. Take it,” Edana said impatiently. ’Twould have been rude to spurn a well-intentioned offering. The comb was missing a few teeth but was not an unwelcome aid. Jacqueline tugged the comb through her hair with savage gestures, not caring how it hurt. Indeed, she deserved whatever injury was inflicted as penance for being such a fool.
Edana watched her. “Why did you ask him to kiss you?”
“You were awake!”
The older woman almost smiled at Jacqueline’s dismay. “I seldom truly sleep, lass. And indeed, ’tis why he—” She halted and shook her head.
“Why he did what? And who do you mean?”
Edana smiled. “You did ask him to kiss you, did you not?”
“Aye.” Jacqueline fairly growled the admission. “Though I know now the magnitude of my error.”
“How so?”
“He is no man of honor.”
“Because he took what you offered?”
“Because he forced more upon me!”
Edana clicked her tongue and poked at the pot with her walking stick. “Where is it writ, lass, that a kiss between a man and a woman is under the jurisdiction of one or the other? Hmmm? A kiss is wondrous yet magical all the same. It takes from both participants and makes something new of itself. ’Tis not uncommon to hear that a kiss became a force of its own.”
“The only for
ce was in that second kiss,” Jacqueline insisted. “For ’twas inflicted upon me.”
“And so different from the first, was it not?”
Jacqueline looked up, but Edana did not meet her gaze. “Almost,” the old woman mused, her voice so low that Jacqueline had to strain to hear the words, “as if ’twas given by another man. A second man within the skin of the first.” She flicked a glance across the space.
Angus had listened to her, and teased her, much as her stepfather would have done. But the second kiss was indeed so different that it might have been rendered by a different man.
A man not unlike the many suitors who had courted her. Or like Reynaud.
But the Angus to whom she had granted that kiss willingly had been another matter indeed.
And that made Jacqueline wonder. “You knew him before. You said he had changed.”
“Aye.” The old woman nodded, as if reluctant to say much further. “And aye again, I must admit.”
“How did he change?”
“He would not have me speak of him.”
“He need not know you did.”
Edana raised her brows.
“’Tis true!” Jacqueline protested. “I will not tell him of it if you speak to me of him. How has he changed?”
“How has he not changed?” Edana finally sighed, and leaned closer. “’Tis true that I knew Angus once, though not in such garb and not so scarred as this. Indeed, I scarce recognized him when he stood before me last eve.”
Jacqueline watched her carefully, anxious to learn more. But Edana did not indulge her. “Why would you join a convent?” the older woman asked with some irritation. “You must know that you are fair of face. ’Tis the choice of an old woman, one tired of life’s pleasures, to retreat to a convent, not that of a young demoiselle who has yet to sip from that fount.”
“So all are quick to observe.” Edana’s gaze was unswerving and Jacqueline felt compelled to continue. “I have a calling to serve Christ and share my gifts with the church.”
“Nonsense.” Edana spat into the rushes in the corner. “You flee something, just as you have tried to flee Angus. To flee your captor is a deed I can understand, though in my time Ceinn-beithe was not a place worth fleeing.”
“I flee no one.”
“Then why? You have a greater reason than the one you give.”
Jacqueline sighed and put down the comb. “Because I believe that ’tis within the embrace of the church that I will be appreciated for the full bounty of the gifts I can share, not for how well I might adorn a man’s arm, his table, or his bed.”
Edana studied her. “You have been pursued for your beauty alone?”
“Aye.”
The old woman smiled and cast a handful of herbs into her pot, pausing to stir the concoction. “Then I approve of your choice,” she said unexpectedly.
“You do?”
“Aye. A woman is not an ornament and she should not be treated as one.”
“Indeed!” ’Twas a delight to Jacqueline to meet someone who did not try to dissuade her from her course.
Edana held up one finger. “But not all men make the mistake of seeking only beauty. There are men who see past a woman’s youthful charms, men who know that ’tis the woman herself with whom they may have the grace to grow old.”
Jacqueline tied her braid decisively. “Perhaps, but I have not met such a man.”
Edana tilted her head to watch her, her eyes bright. “Have you not?”
“I stand corrected. My stepfather is such a man, and perhaps my uncle Guillaume—”
“Let me tell you a tale, my demoiselle,” Edana interrupted. The French fell so readily from the older woman’s tongue that Jacqueline blinked in surprise. Before she could ask Edana’s origins, the woman continued. “I will tell you a tale, for the lady of the well claims she is well pleased with you, and I too find you a charming maiden.”
“Will you tell me how you know Angus?”
Edana pursed her lips. “Now there is a tale, and one too long to be readily told.”
“You might tell me some of it. You might tell me the truth.”
“And what is the truth, lass?”
“The honest tale of what happened, with no embellishment or omission. The truth is simple, the whole truth even more so.”
“You speak with the conviction of the young.” Edana seemed to find this amusing. “Naught is simple about the truth. There is the truth of what happened and the truth of what I believe happened and the truth of what I still remember to have happened. And that does not embrace the truths perceived and remembered by others, let alone whether any of us witnessed the fullness of the truth in the first place.”
“You speak in riddles.”
“I speak in truths.” Edana grinned then, as if well pleased with herself.
Jacqueline sighed in frustration, not sharing the older woman’s delight in their conversation. “Very well. Will you tell one truth that you recall of what you perceived happened when you met Angus?”
Edana sobered and straightened. “You have an audacious tongue, lass, for all the beauty of your face.” Jacqueline blushed, but the old woman continued. “When first I saw you, I feared you would be witless or bland or uninteresting in some other way. ’Tis a pleasant surprise to discover fine company.”
Jacqueline did not know what to say to that. Edana, her ancient fingers sorting dried leaves into two virtually indistinguishable piles, fetched her stool and seated herself beside Jacqueline. Jacqueline recognized neither the leaf nor the scent.
“Once upon a time, a young beauty, not unlike yourself, was betrothed to a chieftain considerably her senior. She was afraid of the match, for her groom was said to be bloodthirsty and boisterous, but her parents believed it to be a good one. An obedient daughter, she met the chieftain before the doors of the church on the agreed day to take her vows. ’Twas said her heart nigh stopped when she saw the size of the warrior in whose bed she would lie.”
“But she wed him?”
“Aye, she was a dutiful daughter, as I have stated.” Edana worked for a moment in silence as the rain pattered on the roof. “And their nuptial feast was a merry one, involving days of singing and dancing. But in the midst of the festivities, an emissary came to the door of their abode.
“This man had ridden from the Norman court of a distant cousin of the lady. He brought a gift for the nuptials, a marvel that enchanted all.” Edana paused to lick her lips. “What do you think ’twas?”
“Jewels and gold.”
“Nay.”
“Exotic silks, or dyes, or perfumes.”
“Nay again, though you draw close.”
“Some marvelous foodstuff. A fruit from the south!”
“Nay. One fruit would not have fed that gathering, and once ’twas gone, ’twould have been gone forever. That would have been a gift that brought disappointment, and thus no token of esteem. Nay, a nuptial gift must endure for as many years as the match it celebrates.”
“Then I do not know.”
Edana smiled, looking as mischievous as an impish faerie from one of Duncan’s tales. She tapped a finger on Jacqueline’s knee. “He brought a colony of bees.”
Jacqueline was incredulous. She hugged her knees and listened avidly, for she dearly loved tales. “Bees? But how?”
“In a woven skep of clever design, though ’twas no small trouble. ’Twas early in the spring when he arrived, so his charges had been slumbering for most of the journey. Yet in that skep was a queen and all the drones to make a larger colony and a fine supply of honey. They were particularly fine bees and inclined to make much honey, by his telling.
“’Twas a most generous gift, so generous that the recipients hesitated before accepting it. ’Twas said the lady wondered what her cousin wanted of her.”
“Did she accept it?”
Edana smiled at the prompting. “Aye. ’Twas coyly chosen, for in truth she could not have denied it. She had a fondness for a sweet, did the la
dy, and there is no sweetness to match that of fine honey. And as the emissary was a priest, ’twas felt denying the offering might be a poor choice. The priest insisted that the Norman lord who was the lady’s cousin wished only to ensure that this family listened to his news and counsel. The only thing required of them in return was their attention to the priest’s news.
“To this, they willingly agreed. All of the household was assembled in the hall to hear whatsoever the priest might say. The minstrels were silenced and the peasants gathered with all the chieftain’s men. The priest spoke with such charm and character that none found his recounting to be dull—indeed, ’twas the stuff of a wondrous tale he revealed.
“Unbeknownst to all those within this remote household, the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem was being besieged by the infidel. The Saracens had already seized the county of Edessa. There was great fear that all that had been gained in the Holy Land with the blood of courageous crusaders would be stolen away once more. The pope, Eugenius III, had called for a new crusade to right this wrong, to reassert the claim of Christendom to the Holy City where Christ had met his end and risen again.”
“’Twas the crusade endorsed by Bernard of Clairvaux, the founder of the Cistercian order,” Jacqueline contributed, recalling well her lessons from Ceinn-beithe’s priest.
“Aye, though ’twas to be led by no lesser men than the Holy Roman Emperor Conrad III and Louis VII, King of France. ’Twas said that a grim Day of Judgment would be visited upon those Christians who did not take up the cross to defend what should have been most holy to them and their faith. The priest, delivering this missive at the behest of the lady’s family, called for her husband, the chieftain, to take up arms and lead his men to join this quest.”
Edana paused, rising to fetch more of her leaves. It seemed to take her overly long to gather them, and Jacqueline’s toe tapped in her impatience to hear more. She barely managed to wait until the older woman was seated again before her question burst forth.
Stolen Brides: Four Beauty-and-the-Beast Medieval Romances Page 103