An Oath Taken (16 page)

The deception would end now!

W
ater rushed over Elizabet's skin as she surfaced, then spilled around her in a soft rush. She lay back as the water slid down with a cool tickle between her breasts. This was so relaxing. She should have slipped away before.

“Thomas!”

At Nicholas's furious voice, fear slammed through her. Pulse racing, she turned toward shore.

Hands on his hips, wind clawing through his hair as lightning streaked across the storm-churned sky in the background, Nicholas stood on the bank as if an enraged god. But judging from the anger carved on his face, he was very, very human.

Mary, Mother of God!

With her clothes clenched tight in his fist, he held them out toward her in a vicious shake. “Come here!” His angry shout melded with a clap of thunder.

Icy rain pricked against her skin like arrows, but Elizabet didna move. Couldna. If she tried to escape he would catch her.

A second passed.

Then another.

The water blackened around her. Waves crested with white rose from the depths, but she held, feeling safer stranded shoulder deep in the churn of storm-fed water than in the throes of Nicholas's outrage.

With a curse he tossed her clothes aside, trudged in. Water sloshed in a ragged spray as he closed, with his each step rising higher.

He couldna catch her! She dove, but the churn of waves pushed her back. A hand shot out, hauled her forward, another caught her other arm.

Waves slapped her flesh as he held her before him. His eyes raked down her nakedness filled with heat, clouded with lust.

Warmth whipped through her. Was she a lackwit? He was furious, how could she want him? Except, shamefully, she did.

His gaze lifted, speared hers in a ruthless hold. “You thought I would not catch you?”

As if she could deny the truth? Elizabet nodded.

“And how long had you planned to remain here,” he demanded, the pain of her duplicity laced within his demand. “Until
he
was freed?”

So he'd learned that Giric was her brother. Aching that she'd betrayed his trust given in good faith, she swallowed hard. “Aye.”

“And when
he
left, you were going to walk away?”

Tears burned her eyes. “You were never supposed to find out.”

Disgust raced over his face like the lightning streaking through the sky. “Damn you, 'tis not a game.”

Pain numbed her heart. “I never meant to hurt you.”

His hands on her shoulders tightened, then he loosened his grip. “You lied to me! Used me every step of the way. And for what? Your lover!”

Lover?
Stunned, she stared at him in disbelief. How could he think . . . What had given him the idea that she and Giric were lovers? Then she understood. Ignorant of her blood bond, he'd believed that only a woman in love would have dared play the part of his squire in an attempt to help her lover escape.

Her elation at figuring out the riddle deflated. It changed naught. Her father's caustic claim that nay man would ever want her as his wife echoed in her mind, that she was naught but a burden in his life, words he'd repeated many times over. Did she think her life with Nicholas would be different? Sadness extinguished any glimmer of hope. Given time, she would disappoint him as she had her father. 'Twas best if he believed she belonged to another, then his desire for her would end here. And, 'twould save them both further pain.

“I—I never told you an untruth.” The wind whipped away her shattered plea.

“An untruth?” He raked his eyes over her face then down to the outline of her breasts exposed as each wave of the churn of storm-blackened water passed. “And is he worth risking your life for?”

She opened her mouth. “He—”

Nicholas caught her mouth in a blistering kiss.

Elizabet shoved her hands against his chest, but he slanted his mouth and took the kiss deeper. His taste consumed her, and her last defense crumbled. Desire pouring through her, she savored his taste, a raw passion that too soon would end.

 

Nicholas's body trembled with desire as the beautiful woman in his arms kissed him back. God how he wanted her! He caught her face in a tender embrace and nipped gently on her lower lip.

A moan shuddered through her.

His blood ran hot, and his anger of moments ago slammed to need. Lost to the moment, he pressed his mouth against her cheek, her jaw, then trailed kisses down the silken length of her neck.

She tilted her head back, exposing the slender column.

The splash of rain tasted sweet against her skin, and his body shuddered. On a moan, he captured her breast, then suckled the tender velvet tip.

She gasped. “Nicholas.”

At her throaty plea he looked up.

Wind tugged at her sodden hair, tossing the wet strands in sharp angles to frame emerald eyes dark with desire. The temptress, the seductress. And by God, his! This moment, Lord Terrick and the bond they shared would be severed.

He claimed her mouth, demanding, taking, thrilled when her heated kisses matched his own. Wanting to touch her every inch, to make love to her until she screamed her release, he slid his hand along the curve of her back in a possessive slant, pulling her against him in an intimate press.

He wanted her here.

Now.

And when he sheathed himself within her slick warmth, she would think only of him.

Panic raced through her eyes, and she tried to pull away.

His body pounded with unspent desire, and he held her tight.

She twisted in his arms. “Nay, I—I canna. This is wrong!”

Anger speared him in a savage slash. “Because of him?”

“Yes . . .” She shook her head and her hands clenched into fists upon his chest. “Nay.”

As if he wasn't confused enough? “Do you love him?”

“Nicholas—”

“Do you!”

“Aye.” Her words fell out in a rough tumble, thick with regret.

He released her, wanting her still. Damn her to Hades! He stormed to the shore, snatched her clothes from the bank.

Water sloshed in a frantic chop behind him as she followed.

He glared at her. He was a fool!

Naked, she halted.

With a curse, he tossed her garments to her. “Cover yourself.”

The beautiful woman caught them and held them against her nakedness, but the clothes hung in disarray, shielding only one breast and exposing the downy juncture with painful clarity.

“When I make love with you,” Nicholas rasped, “you will not think of Terrick, but me.” He drew another ragged breath, fighting to maintain control. “Let me assure you, though I have left you untouched, we are far from through!”

Her eyes clouded with distress. “But I—”

“Get dressed.”

He strode toward the thicket with the whip of wind and rain slashing against him.

“Where are you going?” she called, fear crawling through her voice.

He kept walking. Once he settled things between him and Lord Terrick, then he would finish with her.

“Nicholas!” Elizabet's heart pounded as he kept walking. She had to stop him! Shaking, she slogged through the blackened water, then dragged on the sodden clothes as the rain cut an icy path against her skin. “Wait!”

Without turning back, the castellan strode past the rowan tree and disappeared into the thicket.

With the howl of wind, he couldna hear her! She scrambled up the bank as the muffled beat of hooves echoed. Nay! Fear raced through her as she ran through the shield of leaves. “Nicholas!” She broke into the clearing.

In the downpour, she caught his outline fading in the sweep of rain.

Giric! Nicholas would kill him! She must stop him! Heart pounding, she ran to the base of the rowan tree. Her legs threatened to give as she tugged on her boots. She could accept Nicholas's anger. Throughout her life she had disappointed those whom she loved, especially her father. She'd grown up beneath his brutal eye, never being able to be good enough, to earn his praise.

Nicholas believed he cared for her. For now, everything was fresh in his mind, a mix of emotions he'd nae dissected. In the end, with the passage of time, he would he find himself wishing he'd let her go. Her heart wrenched at the latter. 'Twas better if he shunned her, exiled her from his life. Except she hadna counted on him turning his anger on Giric.

After she tugged on the other boot, she mounted and dug her heels into her steed's side. Mud flew from his hooves as he galloped across the moor, but her thoughts already raced ahead, and she prayed for her brother's life.

 

Rain pelted Nicholas as he rode hard toward Ravenmoor Castle. Lightning cut through the blackened sky, wind howled, melded with the rumble of thunder, but he pressed on.

Terrick.

Terrick.

Terrick.

The cadence of his horse's hooves slammed out his name. Each beat of his blood pounded with unleashed fury.

Ravenmoor Castle's walls rose before him, clawing toward the heavens like talons of stone. The bells of None pealed as the guard's distant call announced his arrival.

He glared into the churning clouds, daring the heavens to interfere. A man who prided himself for his strict self-control, the rage burning through his veins shook him to the core. He understood his anger at finding out his squire was a woman, the breaking of his trust, but as he rode toward home, the sense of betrayal took its toll.

Hooves clattered upon timber as he cantered across the drawbridge. The pointed spears of the portcullis hung in a foreboding arch over his head.

He entered the courtyard and headed toward the stable. The empty outline of the timber portrayed the deception. Nay, his squire would not meet him this day. After his abrupt departure, terrified for her lover, no doubt she was racing back.

He drew to a halt, dismounted.

Malcolm rushed out from the stable.

Nicholas handed him the reins. “When my squire returns, tell him to await me in my chamber.”

At his hard tone, the lad gave a wary nod. “Aye, Sir Nicholas.”

Memories of the enchantress slicing through the river seared his mind, evoked unbidden thoughts of lust as he strode toward the keep. The taste of her lips, the feel of her pressed intimately against him tempting, teasing, seducing with the skill of a courtesan.

He struggled to block his erotic musings, not wanting them. Failed. Blast it! How dare she enter his home and betray his trust for another man.

Lightning severed the blackened sky as he reached the keep. He stormed through the great hall, took the carved stone steps two at a time.

The guard outside of Lord Terrick's chamber nodded at his approach, then stepped aside.

Fury hazing his mind, Nicholas entered the room, slammed the door shut. What he had to say to the earl was personal.

Lord Terrick, standing by the window, whirled.

Thunder shook the heavens as Nicholas glared at the ice-blue eyes, eyes of the man who'd known all along of the deception, and was the reason for this living hell. The urge to unsheathe his sword and slay his rival slammed in his gut. Never had he been played for such a fool.

Through the open window, lightning illuminated the sky. Thunder crashed in its wake, and the stench of heat, wood, and anger permeated the room.

Leather slapped against stone as he strode toward Terrick.

Instead of fear, the earl stood firm.

Most men would've shrunk back at his charge, but Terrick wasn't most. Nicholas's admiration for the noble grew. This man commanded respect, honor, and devotion, proven by his lover's efforts to free him at the risk of her life.

He halted a hand's length away. “I know Thomas is a woman.”

Ebony hair framed his sharp, unforgiving features as Terrick watched him with incredible calm; the only visible reaction, a slight darkening in eyes.

Nicholas wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword. His fingers trembled with the need to usurp justice in this unforgiving situation. But the noble remained unarmed. He dropped his hand.

Silence.

“I came upon her bathing in the river—naked.” He waited for his reaction, pleased as the man's lips thinned. “A delicate and appealing form,” he added to appease his wounded pride.

The noble's eyes narrowed. “Leave the lass out of it.”

Nicholas cocked an arrogant brow. After his last few weeks of personal torment, Terrick could go to the devil. He would deal with her as he chose fit. “Who is she?”

The hard set of his jaw underlined his determination to withhold the information, but the angst in Terrick's face violated his plight.