A Knight's Temptation (28 page)

“You must know how I”—
want you
—“care for you,” he said against her creamy soft skin.

“Oh—”

He kissed the side of her mouth. Licked away the last, glistening tear.

Her lips parted, suggesting that intimate touch stunned her.

And then, very gently, he swept his lips over hers.

Her hand in his flew up, like a robin startled from the hedgerow. He hovered, his mouth before hers, their breaths mingling in an exquisite moment of possibility.

Would she take the comfort he offered, or shove him away? The choice must be hers.

He blinked, and she closed the space between them. Clamped her arms around his neck with a whimpered moan. Slid her tongue against his lips.

“Leona—” His acknowledgment was crushed by her roving mouth. She sucked. Delved. Squirmed against him. A scorching shudder racked his body. Heat. Fire. Oh, God, he couldn’t possibly hide his rising desire for her.

Aldwin wrestled with the blinding urge to push her backward onto the pallet and slide between her legs.
One
kiss. Tenderness. ’Tis what he offered. All he meant to offer.

Aye, he wanted more—what man wouldn’t?—but after her fright moments ago, he’d be taking advantage.

“Kiss me, as before,” she panted against his mouth. Her voice blended into a growl.

His loins heated, even while a tiny part of him resisted. She wasn’t thinking clearly; emotionally vulnerable, she didn’t realize what she was saying. Still, as he scrambled to resurrect his chivalry, her right hand wandered down the front of his tunic.

“Lioness.” He caught her sleeve, and then her wrist. Nibbling her cheek, he tried his best to distract her from what—Ah, God—seemed to be her intention.

“Kiss me.” Her lips ground against his. And then, her left hand found his manhood.

With the lightest caress, her fingers brushed his swollen heat.

He gasped.

Her delicate touch implied she’d touched him by accident. Yet she’d deliberately moved her hand down his belly. Knowing her, unless he stopped her, she’d touch him again.

Shivering at that wondrous thought, he said, “W-wait.” For what, he didn’t know. His fuzzy mind refused to focus. If she caressed him like that again, he’d never withstand the agony.

Sighing against his mouth, she dropped her hands. For once, she’d obeyed him. Even as he expelled an astonished breath, her fingers twisted into his hair to grasp huge fistfuls and hold him fast. Her breasts squeezed to his torso, while her lips moved over his. Sensations so exquisite and arousing . . .

A groan ripped up inside him. And then, his restraint shattered like a cracked lance.

Matching her hunger, he kissed her back. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she met his parry. He sucked. She nibbled. He teased. She tormented.

His mind spun. Never had he experienced such gut-twisting bliss.

She gasped, licked, and matched the deepening exploration of his tongue. With another, impassioned groan, he rose up on his knees, sliding his body up hers to tower over her. Her hands fell from his hair. Linking her arms about his waist, she tilted her head back, keeping their mouths joined in a kiss, an instinctive acceptance of his lead.

Their bodies strained together, each movement marked by the whisper of their garments. Aldwin shuddered, his blood running fast and hot. His hands burned as they clenched into her gown, capturing silky strands of her hair as well as cloth.

Not enough. He wanted—
needed
—to be closer still.

Still kissing her, he leaned his full weight against her. Urged her backward.

A whimper broke from her. Doubt dimmed his desire for one, painful instant. Before he could coax her with his hands, her body yielded. She shifted back. He followed her down, kissing, urging, until she lay beneath him on the pallet.

Above her on his hands and knees, he whispered, “Lioness.”

Her gaze sly, she reached up and pushed aside hair that had fallen over his face. Then she grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled his head down to her level. Their lips clashed in a fierce, slippery kiss. When he lowered his hips, easing the rest of his body down into her welcoming embrace, she moaned.

An answering moan rose within him. The incredible feel of her . . . He wanted to tear his mouth from hers, throw back his head, and roar.

Through the haze in his mind, he heard a dog barking.

Outside.

His lips pressed to hers, he stilled. The mongrel might not belong to Neale, but the bark sounded similar.

“Oy!” a man shouted. “Come back ’ere, ye silly ’ound.”

Neale
. If he came upon Aldwin lying atop Leona . . . Not a wise idea.

“I am sorry,” Aldwin said, pressing a last kiss to Leona’s lips. He rose up to his knees, and then stood, straightening his clothing.

Another bark, very near.

A knock sounded on the cottage door.

Chapter Seventeen

The knock sifted into Leona’s dreamy bliss. She pushed up on her elbows and blinked at Aldwin spearing his hand through his hair that she’d recently mussed—including the bit at the back that stuck out like a puppy’s tail.

He looked down at her, shook his head, and grinned. For a moment, all seemed to fade away. All except him, that enticing smile, and his smoldering gaze that told her he wanted to kiss her again.

Turning on his heel, he strode to his knife lying on the floor, picked it up, and sheathed it. Then he came back to her, stretching out his hand. He clearly wanted her to rise. “Leona.”

“Mmm?” Her mind felt sluggish, as though she tried to pull thoughts through a thick blanket.

“I must answer the door.” His gaze dropped to her lips, still tingling from his attentions. “I sent one of the night guards to Neale’s home. I asked him to bring us some fare and water for you to wash.”

The lingering pleasure clouding her mind vanished. Ignoring his hand, she shoved up to standing and brushed a hand over her creased gown. “You set guards outside last night?” She knew he was determined to get her to de Lanceau, but God’s teeth, he’d tied her to the cupboard!

The mirth faded from Aldwin’s gaze.

Another knock rattled the door. “Milord?” She recognized Neale’s voice, tinged with uncertainty.

“One moment,” Aldwin called back.

His focus returned to her, and she braced herself against a flood of confusion and dismay. His resolve to prevent her from escaping shouldn’t surprise her. He’d admitted his desire to achieve knighthood, and his commitment to de Lanceau took priority above all else. Yet somehow, she couldn’t quell the disappointment chilling her like icy water.

“Setting guards was a sound decision,” Aldwin said.

She crossed her arms. “How so? You tied me to the cupboard and boarded the windows. Moreover, you slept between me and the wretched door.”

A flush stained his cheekbones. “As I said before, I will not let you get away.”

“How could I?” She thrust out her arm to display the redness on her wrist. “If you set guards as well, why did I have to sleep with rope binding me? Do you think ’tis pleasant to sleep tethered like a mule?”

His gaze darkened, even as he glanced at the door. “Look—”

“I stitched your wound. We kissed!” she said. “We did so again, moments ago!”

His palm flew up. “Shh!

“I will
not
hush!”

He leaned forward, his face set in a menacing scowl. She must be mad, for even while arguing with him, she craved his kiss.
Focus on Aldwin, the Warrior
, she told herself,
not Aldwin, the Tender Lover. Keep a tight grip your foolish heart, and you will prevail
.

“Keeping you inside was not the only reason for posting guards,” he said. “I wanted to be sure we were safe.”

She snorted. “Of all the—”

“The poachers we fought yesterday may be searching for us. They will want to avenge their dead friends. I will not risk harm to you while you are in my care.”

In his care
. How dare he make his kidnapping of her sound so inoffensive?

“The poachers cannot know where we are,” she growled.

“Aye, they—”

“We were not followed.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you certain?”

“Even if they did come to this town,” she said hotly, “who would tell them we are staying in this cottage?”

“Word can travel quickly in a small village, especially when all the folk know one another.”

True. Her own experiences had taught her such. Months ago, the folk in the town skirting Pryerston Keep seemed to know of her mother’s accident even before Leona.

She tried to think of another point to defend her argument. Before she could say one word, Aldwin crossed to the door.

He pulled open the panel, letting in brilliant sunlight. Neale stood a respectful distance from the threshold, no doubt trying to allow them some privacy. He was holding a small iron pot, an earthenware jug, and a cloth sack, and talking to Soot snuffling in the dirt.

When the door opened, Neale bowed. “Good morning, milord. Me wife made barley pottage with ’oney and milk ta break yer fast. Me daughter will soon bring ’ot water.” As he approached the doorway, he held up the sack. “I also ’ave food fer yer day’s journey.”

“Many thanks.” Aldwin smiled and took the offerings. “Let me give you the stew pot from last night.”

Neale waved a hand. “Leave it. We will clear up the cottage once ye’re gone.”

“’Tis most kind of you.”

Leona scowled. Aldwin appeared relaxed and pleased with the morning’s developments. How rotten, when despite her annoyance, her body still yearned for him.

Neale’s gaze slid from Aldwin to her, then darted away. “Is there aught else ye or the lady require, milord? I will do me best to find it, if ye ask.”

“I think we have all we need,” Aldwin said.

Leona sensed his questioning gaze upon her. What she needed—to immediately return to Pryerston—he wouldn’t grant her, so why did he bother to seek her opinion? She met his gaze and then turned her back on him.

Drawing up her sleeve, she inspected her reddened skin, glad to see the irritation wasn’t too severe. She’d apply some of the ointment she’d used on Aldwin’s stitches. That should help quicken the healing.

“I will leave the fare here,” Aldwin said close by. She glanced over her shoulder to see him put the pot, jug, and sack on the table. “Eat what you like.”

She nodded.

“I will be outside, discussing a few matters with Neale, if you need me.”

For what?
her mind answered.
To spoon-feed me my pottage?
She forced away the not-so-unpleasant image of him winking at her and leaning across the table to tip a spoon into her open mouth.

His lips tightened, as though he’d hoped for a reply from her. His expression reminded her of a short while ago, when he’d rescued her from the bee. Thank God he’d been able to deal with the insect, or she’d still be huddled by the cupboard, crying like a little girl.

How she hated that she’d been vulnerable before him. He’d eased her fear, though, with such gentleness. He’d soothed her, shared his private anguish, and made her smile. When he’d touched her and called her “Lioness,” he’d made her shimmer inside, a beautiful, feminine feeling she wanted to know again.

Aldwin started to turn away. ’Twas gallant of him to offer to help her again, if she wished it. She mustn’t let him leave without saying so.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Glancing back at her, he nodded. Then he smiled. He looked so handsome, her stomach swooped.

“Be ready to leave soon,” he said, before he crossed to Neale, stepped outside, and closed the door behind them.

Leona pressed her hand to her mouth, still tasting his kisses. Foolish, aye, but despite all Aldwin had done to her and all that loomed ahead, she wanted to lie back down on the pallet again.

With him.

***

“De Lanceau is not coming,” Sedgewick groused and slid his hand over his nose, shiny with perspiration. Standing in the shade of trees fringing a meadow, he looked a bit wan.

Leaning back against a tree, Veronique swallowed a scathing retort. Did Sedgewick really believe Geoffrey wouldn’t come to such a significant meeting? Judging from the sweat streaming down the baron’s brow, he was turning coward.

How disgusting.

Veronique shifted her focus to the flower-dotted meadow. All seemed serene. Exactly as moments before.

A heady tingle shot through her. Soon, all would change in one, climactic moment—like a brimming bucket tipped over to reveal a secret kept from view.

Ah, but she couldn’t wait!

“Veronique, why are we still here?” Sedgewick muttered.

She narrowed her gaze, then turned away from him. “We will wait.”

So de Lanceau was late for their morning meeting. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t arrive. In the shriveled nook of her heart that had once loved him, she knew he’d come. He wouldn’t be able to resist, if he thought she had his pendant.

He’d also be curious. Oh, aye. Very curious, as to why she’d wanted to see him.

When the baron grumbled once again, she barely resisted the urge to swing around and smack his face. Irritation prickled like a rash across her skin. He knew how important this meeting was to her, how she’d craved the moment de Lanceau saw, for the first time, the one destined to someday cut him down and take all that was denied her and her son.

Sitting beside her on the weed-sprinkled ground, Tye yanked out a stringy dandelion and tossed it onto a growing pile of uprooted plants. Several of his little fingers were stained green. Keeping him clean was an impossible task.

A bird twittered and darted overhead, casting a quick shadow, and he glanced up. Sunlight edging through the overhead leaves touched the wavy mass of his hair curling to the shoulders of his brown woolen tunic. Mumbling in his odd little way, he resumed his weeding. How innocent he looked, his face flushed with concentration, his mouth pursed . . .

No doubt sensing her gaze, he looked up. “Mama, I—”

A whistle. Or was it birdsong? There was a loud chorus coming from the trees several yards behind her.