A Merry Medieval Christmas Box Set

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Her eyes narrowed. “If my brother is alive, why did the crown issue notice of his death? Why would you keep such a fact from my sire and me?” A sob catching in her mouth, she poked Ren in the middle of his chest. His muscled body was as hard as iron beneath his garments.

  Ren didn’t flinch.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  His steady gaze didn’t waver, although remorse shadowed his features now. “I had no choice.”

  “No choice?” She shook her head. A brittle laugh broke past her lips. “What do you mean—?”

  “By order of the king.”

  The cold night air worked its way through her layers of garments and seeped into her bones. What was Ren saying? “The king…” If the king had ordered Ren to lie about Haddon, then indeed, Ren would have been honor and duty-bound to stay silent.

  Did she dare to believe—to accept—that after years of grieving him, Haddon was alive?

  Her trembling intensified.

  Ren and the battlement suddenly spun around her. Right when her knees buckled, she was lifted up, drawn against Ren’s chest, one of his arms around her waist and the other under her knees. His breath warmed her brow.

  “I will tell you everything, Liliana,” he murmured, his lips against her hair.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. Let us go inside though, all right? ’Tis too bloody cold out here, and I will not be responsible for you falling ill. I have enough guilt to torment me where you are concerned, Lady Thornleigh.”

  She almost chuckled. However, a stubborn spark of defiance inside her reminded her she was lying in Ren’s arms like a helpless, swooning damsel of lore. As he strode to the doorway into the keep, she squirmed. “Please, Ren, put me down.”

  His arms tightened around her. “And have you fall on your face? I think not.”

  “But—”

  “Remember what I just said about my guilt?”

  “Aye, but folk will gossip if you carry me through the castle.”

  He winked at her. “Let them talk. I do not care. I am aiding a damsel in distress, as is the way of chivalrous knights.”

  Liliana sighed. “Honestly, Ren, I am feeling better now. Please, let me lead the way.”

  ***

  Ren followed Liliana into a spacious chamber on the upper level of the keep. A fire glowed in the hearth across the room. Three high-backed chairs with cushions had been turned to face the blaze and the brightly patterned rug running alongside the hearth. Oak tables sat between the chairs. A chess board, its ivory pieces laid out in an unfinished game, rested on one table; a piece of embroidery on silk, folded cloth, thread, and bone needles lay on another.

  Her back still to him, Liliana crossed to the fire, pulling off her gloves and mantle while she walked. As the garment fell away, his gaze skimmed over her body, down her braided hair to the elegant sway of her hips. His blood still burned from the joy of holding her against him. If he’d had his way, he wouldn’t have set her down on the battlement, for it had felt so right for her to be in his arms.

  Hellfire, if his most heartfelt wishes ever came true, embracing her would be only the beginning of the pleasures he’d share with her—but that miracle wasn’t going to happen tonight, if ever.

  She draped her mantle over the back of one of the chairs. Glancing at him, she gestured to another. “Please. Sit.”

  He walked to the chair beside hers and set down his cloak and gloves. Then, frowning, he reached into the cloth bag on the floor and drew out a rounded bundle. Whatever it was, it had been cut from pieces of brown cloth, stitched together, and stuffed with fabric. “What is this?”

  “A kitten.”

  He had the poor creature upside down. Now he saw the face, with thread whiskers, a stuffed pink nose, and short tail.

  “’Tis one of three I have made for Rosy. However, I cannot get that one’s nose quite right.”

  The kitten looked like it had inhaled a bunch of grapes. He forced down a laugh and willed a solemn expression as he tucked the toy back into the bag. “I am sure you will get it right.”

  “I hope so.” She perched on the edge of the chair, her hands raised to the fire. “Please. Tell me about my brother.”

  Ren sat. Dread taunted him, for his tale wasn’t easy or pleasant, but he forged ahead. “Well, as I told you, your brother did not die on Crusade.”

  “Yet, by orders of the king, you had to tell his family—us—that he perished.”

  Ren nodded. “Truth be told, ’twas also Haddon’s wish that he be reported dead.”

  “Why?”

  The agony in that single word cut him deep. Memories, swirling up like the sand on the scorching eastern soil, filled Ren’s mind. “You must try to understand.” He fought to find the right words. “During the siege of Acre, we were sent to help secure the city gates. There were fifteen of us in the group to which Haddon I were assigned. We were ambushed. Outnumbered, we fought as best we could. Haddon was cornered by three Saracens. He killed them, and helped us win the fight, but was badly injured.”

  “Oh, God,” Liliana whispered.

  “A Saracen’s sword slashed Haddon’s flesh to the bone. I got him out of the battle and to our surgeon as fast as I could. When Haddon learned of the extent of the damage… He said he would rather die than look upon such a scar for the rest of his life.”

  A choked sob broke from Liliana. “How could he think such a terrible thing?”

  “He was in shock. He had lost a great deal of blood, and he had grown very weak. I did my best to bolster his will to live. I did not leave his side. I was there when the surgeon stitched him, there when he lay sweating and feverish in the hot tent.” Ren swallowed hard. “There when he begged me to take his dagger and stab him in the chest, so he would not have to live with his disfigurement.”

  “Disfigurement,” she echoed softly.

  “Aye.” Ren wanted to say more, and yet, he sensed Liliana was overwhelmed with all he’d already revealed.

  She pressed her lips together and looked down at the floor. She appeared lost, floundering in the rising sea of her emotions. How he longed to go to her, wrap his arms around her, and comfort her. Yet, she might only push him away.

  “Haddon felt that way at first,” she said evenly. “That he wanted to end his life. Obviously, though, you were able to convince him otherwise.”

  “King Richard learned of Haddon’s situation and came to the tent where your brother was being treated. I was not allowed to attend that meeting, but whatever the king proposed, Haddon spent several days pondering, and then accepted.”

  Tears glinted in Liliana’s eyes. “Why, though, did you have to tell us Haddon was dead? I do not understand.”

  Ren’s gut twisted, as though wrenched by the turn of a dagger. “The disfigurement—”

  “We would have accepted him, even with his disfigurement!”

  “He was not so certain.”

  A low moan broke from her. “He is my brother. He is my father’s heir. He was… is… everything to us.”

  He could not bear to see such pain on her lovely features. He rose from the chair, dropped to his knees beside her, and took her hands in his. She didn’t pull away.

  “I tried to convince Haddon that he would be accepted by his friends and family no matter the extent of his wounds,” Ren said. “He would not listen. The next day, he was taken away by the king’s guards. Word spread that he had died. Yet, I knew this was not true. Before he was moved, Haddon told me he would see me again, and made me vow upon my knight’s honor not to tell anyone else that he was alive. The king himself sought me out and made me swear such an oath. He also gave me the missive to deliver to your sire.” Gently, Ren squeezed her fingers. “I hope you see now, Liliana, that I did not want to lie to you or your father about Haddon, but ’twas my duty to do as commanded.”

  After a long moment, she nodded. “When did you see Haddon again?” she whispered, her tear-filled eyes meeting his again. “Did you meet him London, u
pon your return from the east?”

  “I did.”

  “Have you seen him often through the years?”

  “I have. However, he is a busy man, thanks to his agreement with the king. For his own safety, he is never in London or any other place for long.”

  A trembled sigh parted her lips, and then she frowned. “How has news that Haddon is alive not reached my father? He knows most of the lords in Lincolnshire and many in the king’s court. If any of them met Haddon—”

  Ren indulged in a wry smile. “Your brother uses the name Thomas Smith now.”

  “Thomas Smith,” Liliana repeated. “A very common name.”

  “Purposefully so.”

  Her expression turned thoughtful. “If Haddon has been working in secret for the king, why, now, are you able to tell us that he is alive?”

  So many questions. Yet, she deserved the truth. “Haddon is weary of being alone,” Ren said. “He misses you and your father. He wants to come home.”

  She sniffled. “I want to see Haddon.” Her hands curled into Ren’s, increasing the soft brush of her skin against his. “Oh, Ren, when can I see him? Soon?”

  “Aye.” Ren smiled, for excitement and hope brightened her eyes. “Any day now. He must finish a mission assigned to him by the king, and then he will come here.”

  “Oh, ’tis wonderful news.” Her body shook on a shuddered sob, and before Ren could stop himself, he rose, wrapped his arms around her, and drew her down to the rug in front of the fire. She didn’t resist, didn’t utter one word of refusal, as he carefully turned her so that her head rested on his left shoulder and his arms were around her waist, cradling her against him.

  Her sobs deepened, as if she no longer had the strength to hold them back. She wept, her tears soaking through his tunic to his linen shirt underneath, but he didn’t care. His cheek pressed to the silken crown of her head, he murmured soothing words. He kissed her hair, her brow, gently rocked her, until she quieted, her ragged breathing the only sound in the chamber except for the crackle of the fire.

  He expected her to gather herself and draw away, but she didn’t pull out of his hold. After wiping her eyes and blowing her nose on a handkerchief she’d taken from her sleeve, she remained nestled against him, staring into the fire, as though drawing comfort and strength from their embrace. Firelight cast light and shadow over the folds of her skirt and tempted him with suggestions of the shapely legs beneath.

  ’Twas entirely selfish of him, but he never wanted this moment with Liliana to end. His heart soared with this closeness he’d longed for with her, but had never been allowed. Truth be told, he’d never experienced such strong feelings for any other woman, not even his late wife.

  Liliana shifted in his hold, and reluctantly, he eased his arms away. She didn’t draw back, but twisted with a rustle of fabric, turning to face him. Her eyes, such a bright blue in color, glistened with the last of her tears.

  She shuddered as she exhaled, and then her gaze dropped to his lips. Curiosity and longing registered in her eyes. Awareness raced like hot-cold sparks over his skin. He dared not move, for their mouths were a mere breath apart.

  Ah, God, but he couldn’t drag his attention from her lips. How he ached to lean forward and kiss her—a tender kiss to assure her all would be well.

  As though attuned to his thoughts, her gaze flicked up to his. And then, she leaned forward, closed the gap between them, and pressed her mouth to his.

  Ren froze, stunned. Elated. A gasp tickled the back of his throat, while his whole body thrilled with excitement. He savored the softness of her mouth, the heady taste of her, the urge to intensify the kiss. He forced himself to stay still and let her take the lead. He didn’t want to frighten her away. If he wanted to earn her trust, he must let her show him what she wanted.

  Her breath fanned over his skin, and her lips pressed harder against his mouth. Her tongue touched the seam of his lips, and a helpless groan burned inside him. Her lips curved against his, the invitation of a smile.

  Did he dare to kiss her back, as he so desired? He ached for her. He was going to perish from the sheer wanting.

  “Ren,” she whispered against his mouth.

  He struggled to keep his focus. “Mmm?”

  “Kiss me.”

  “Without mistletoe?” he asked, his lips brushing hers in a teasing kiss.

  She laughed. “Without mistletoe.”

  He groaned again, and his mouth closed on hers, matching the delicious, sensual rhythm she’d begun. The glide of her lips, her hungry sighs, the sweet-scented heat rising from her skin coaxed him to deepen their contact, to delve farther with his lips and tongue.

  While kissing her, he sank his fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her head. She shuddered, and as her mouth opened on a quick moan, he swept his tongue inside. He slid his tongue over hers. She startled. Regret scorned him, for he sensed he’d moved too fast, but then, her tongue matched his, stroke for stroke.

  Never had he experienced kisses like this. His desire flamed as bright and hot as the blaze in the hearth.

  He lost the fight to show restraint. His mouth plundered, teased, tempted. He closed his eyes, gave himself over to the incredible sensations. She tasted glorious, each kiss more poignant, more tantalizing, than the last.

  Finally, she broke away, breathing hard. Ren opened his eyes to find himself lying on his back on the rug. Liliana lay above him, gazing down, her arms pressed to his chest, her legs angled alongside his. Her hair, loosened from its braid, tumbled in a wild golden fall around her face.

  Ren smiled up at her. Her face was flushed, her lips red and swollen from kissing. Never had he seen her look more beautiful.

  “Well,” he murmured.

  She smiled back, shyness creeping into her expression, along with a hint of embarrassment. He sensed her drawing away emotionally from what they’d just shared. He couldn’t let her go. Not with regrets.

  He pressed one of his hands over hers. “Liliana—”

  “Please, Ren. If someone should come in and find us like this…” She pulled her hand from beneath his and sat up, pushing her hair back over her shoulders in a futile attempt to tidy it.

  “Thank you for kissing me,” he said.

  Her hand, smoothing the creases from her bodice, stilled. A blush now colored her face. “I was so overcome with emotion, I could not help it.”

  “’Twas an unexpected gift,” he said, holding her gaze. “One I shall treasure.”

  “Thank you for telling me about Haddon. Knowing he is alive…” Her expression tightened with longing. “I want to see him.”

  “You will. I promise.”

  “When?”

  “By Christmas.” Ren wanted to say more, but he didn’t know exactly when Haddon would arrive at Maddlestow. ’Twas entirely up to Haddon—as long as he didn’t lose his nerve. What a fine mess that would be.

  Unease chafed at the remnants of Ren’s desire as Liliana stood, straightening her skirts, her movements brusque. “I…I must leave now.”

  “Wait.” Ren rose and tugged his tunic back into place. “Please.”

  She rubbed her lips together, as though she struggled with an inner turmoil. Then, she looked at the rug where they’d just kissed and lain together. Her face turned scarlet.

  Before he could say a word, she spun and hurried out of the chamber, leaving Ren standing alone by the hearth.

  Chapter Seven

  Silvery frost glittered on the grass separating the stone-walled vegetable and herb beds in the castle garden. ’Twas a cold but beautiful morning, and as Liliana and Averil strolled farther into the sun-drenched garden, Liliana sucked in a deep breath of the crisp air and willed her fluttering stomach to settle.

  Ahead of them, Rosy, garbed in a bright red wool cloak, ambled after a robin that had flitted from the grass into the frost-bitten berry bushes that had yet to be cut back. The little girl chatted to the bird as she stooped and picked up a fallen leaf.

 
Averil halted and faced Liliana. “All right. We are far enough from the folk in the bailey now. You must tell me how things went last night with Ren.”

  Liliana fought a shiver that had naught to do with the cold morning. From the moment she’d left Ren standing by the fire, she’d been overwrought with nerves. She’d hardly slept, the memory of what he’d told her about Haddon, and then the wondrous kisses, replaying over and over in her mind.

  And her body… Of all wickedness, the sinful heat she’d experienced during the kisses continued to dance through her, right down to the tips of her toes. An odd warmth lingered in her lower belly too, and even lower than that, in places no well-bred lady should think upon with such curiosity.

  Yet, considering herself a well-bred lady was nigh ridiculous, considering how she’d kissed Ren. She’d devoured his mouth. And then, she’d sprawled atop him like a lusty strumpet—

  Averil cleared her throat.

  “Sorry,” Liliana said. “I was just thinking—”

  “About Ren?” Averil grinned.

  “Aye.” A silent groan bubbled up inside Liliana. Would she ever be able to stop thinking about him? Her mind seemed determined to keep tormenting her.

  Averil’s eyes sparkled. “Please, Lil. Do tell. What happened? Did he just want to talk or…what?”

  “We did talk for a while. Then…”

  “Then?”

  “We kissed again.”

  Averil squealed and clapped her gloved hands together.

  Liliana couldn’t resist a grin. Indeed, the kissing had been one of the most exquisite, exciting moments of her life. “Truth be told,” she admitted. “I kissed him.”

  “You did?” Averil’s gaze sharpened. “Did he have mistletoe? Did he hold it over your head and force you to kiss him?”

  Liliana giggled. “Nay.”

  “Nay?” Averil’s face lit with admiration. “Well. ’Tis even more extraordinary news.”

  Liliana rolled her eyes. “Averil—”

  “Were they good kisses?”

  “Very good. But—”

  “But what? Surely you do not have regrets.” Averil’s gaze softened with compassion. “Do you not want to kiss him again?”