By Queen's Grace (17 page)

“Shoo. Go. Do something!” she urged the horse, while peering around the edge of the stall. Corwin still took the defensive, losing ground.

She screamed when Corwin yelled, dropped to the - ground and rolled. The horse echoed her scream, then charged. Duncan had only time to turn and face death with wide-eyed horror before being tossed into the air, flying high before returning to earth with a heavy thud. The destrier reared, hooves high off the ground. Judith turned away, unable to watch the destructive power of the weapon she’d wielded.

Then there was silence. She leaned against the side of the stall, her eyes closed, her stomach in a tangle, fighting tears of anger and fear and sorrow. She couldn’t let go now. They had yet to make good their escape. If Corwin was able.

Judith heard him coming and opened her eyes as he cradled her cheeks in his hands.

“I do not know whether to thank you or give you a severe tongue-lashing. He could have as easily killed you as Duncan.”

She didn’t trust her voice, so she whispered, “I knew not what else to do. Are you wounded?”

He answered her fear with chagrin. “Nay, I am fine now. The pain is gone.”

“What happened?”

“Truth to tell, I am not completely sure. In her letters, has Ardith ever mentioned anything.unusual about our being twins?”

The completely unexpected change of subject caught Judith off guard. How could one event possibly have anything
to do with the other? “Beyond her belief the two of you are closer than other siblings might be, nay, not really.”

“Then explanations are best left for later. Come, let us get the horses and leave before we lose the light.”

The sun had set hours ago, giving over to pale moonlight. Judith guided her mare among the trees, keeping close to the horse that bore Thurkill. Oswuld led the way; Corwin followed behind her, listening for pursuers. There had been none so far.

They broke out of the woodland onto a road, and Judith braced for what she hoped would be the last nerve-rending upheaval tonight-saying farewell to Oswuld. Corwin rode up beside her as Oswuld turned to face them.

“This is where I leave you,” he said, then glanced south. “This road will take you into Durham, and beyond.”

“Where do you go?” she asked.

“First to Sunderland. We buried my mother there when I was a child. Hopefully, I can lay Father to rest beside her. From there?” He shrugged and grinned. “I suppose that will depend on whether or not Ruford yet seeks my hide.”

Corwin grinned back. “You need not worry too much over Ruford. I assure you, he is making plans to seek my hide first.”

“Probably. Have a care he does not find you.” Oswuld then turned to Judith. “It has been a privilege, my lady. You have a care, too.”

“And you,” she managed to answer. “I hate parting, not knowing whether you will be safe.”

“All will work out, my lady. And if you should ever need me, ask after me at White Swan Inn, south of Coventry. My brother will know where to find me.”

Corwin reached out and grasped Oswuld’s hand. “Should you ever need help, or find yourself in need of a
living, go to Bury Saint Edmunds. Most anyone there can direct you to Wilmont, or Lenvil.”

“I may have to take you up on that offer, my lord. Fare thee well,” he said, then turned his horse north, bearing his father’s body behind him.

Corwin turned south. Judith followed.

“I had thought to make Durham tonight,” he said. “But if you are as bone weary as I, what say we find a decent spot to halt and lay our heads until sunrise?”.

Not only bone weary but nerve wrought, she welcomed the suggestion. “Oh, please, aye.”

Corwin led her back into the woodland, and stopped at a spot not far off the road. They tied the horses to a low tree branch. As they pulled off the saddles, Judith glanced over at Corwin. He showed no sign of weakness, or of being in pain.

“What happened to you in the stable?” she asked.

Corwin carried his saddle to the edge of a patch of long grass, wondering how much to tell Judith. Warnings for silence remembered from his childhood urged caution.

He took Judith’s saddle from her hands and placed it within the nest of grass. He wanted her close, but not too close. Of course, given what he was about to tell her, she might put further distance between them. Would Judith turn from him in horror, or try to understand, as Gerard had for Ardith’s sake?

“When Ardith and I were children, we discovered we shared a rare accord with each other. In times of great danger, or great pain, a.link between us flares.” Though he could give many examples, some of which he was far from proud of, he gave the easiest to understand. “For instance, when we were children, I fell out of a large tree. Ardith was not with me, but knew I had fallen and broken my arm. She felt the pain of it.”

Judith looked. at him quizzically, then asked, “She
felt
your pain?”

“Aye. The same is also true when Ardith is in great pain. I feel it, as I did today.”

“You are saying that, in the stable-”

“Ardith could not have chosen a worse time to give birth.”

Judith’s face went blank, then her eyes went wide, her mouth opening in a silent intake of breath. “Oh, my.”

“Now, before you get the wrong idea-nay, I do not know what giving birth feels like. ‘Twas more an awareness of something amiss, then a shot of pain.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, I thought myself too far away from her to feel anything, and it took me by surprise. The shock threw me back to when her firstborn arrived. She was at Wilmont, I at Lenvil, yet I spent an hour unable to do much but sit. This time, it caught me short and hard in the middle of a sword fight.”

“You are both-all right”

“I believe so,” he said, hoping Ardith was fine. “I had planned to go to London straightaway, but if you have no objection, I think we will stop at Wilmont first. I need to check on Ardith, and talk to Gerard before facing Henry.”

“I have no objection.” She rubbed her face with her hands. “Truly, a visit with Ardith might be most welcome.”

Judith looked ready to fall over. She’d been through much today.

“I am rather proud of you, you know.”

She managed a smile. “I thought you were still angry with me for loosing your horse.”

He shook his head. “You probably saved my life, though I admit you scared me when you risked your own.”

“You risked yours for me.”

“‘Twas a duty I took on when I set out on this venture. I asked you to go along with it, vowing no harm would come to you. I keep my vows.”

She took a deep breath and looked away. “Of course, your duty comes before all, does it not?”

It should, but right now duty seemed a lonely thing.

“I vowed to protect the Canmore heiress. But it is Judith-a woman rare and precious-for whom I would give all without a fight should she ask the sacrifice of me.”

He hadn’t meant to start her tears flowing, truly had no idea for which reason she cried-she had several. Faced with her tears, he couldn’t do anything else but take her in his arms until the sobs subsided.

Longing, deep and intense, washed through him like an ocean wave, threatening to pull him under. He couldn’t succumb. Judith was far too upset, too vulnerable. Even knowing it, he wanted to kiss her tears away, take her to another place where no pain existed, only ecstasy. Duty battled with desire. His wish to comfort argued with selfish need.

“I truly hate your chain mail,” she said. “You keep yourself encased in cold metal.”

“Right now you should be thankful for it. ‘Tis all that keeps you safe from me.”

“What if I do not wish to be safe from you?”

“Judith-”

She put her fingertips to his mouth. “I know of every reason you are about to give me for holding to duty. You have yours, and I mine. Nothing will change that. But Corwin, from now until we reach Wilmont, could we not forget?”

Her eyes had dried. Her words, delivered in a steady voice, reverberated through him, strumming cords of desire
already tightly strung. Corwin struggled to save them both from sure disaster.

“There will be regrets,” he said.

“Not on my part. I love you, Corwin. If all I can have of you is a few days, then I want all of it.”

Judith loves me. His heart rejoiced even as it broke.

Corwin lost the battle. “Two days, three nights, and most of it spent riding hard. ‘Tis all we have.”

Judith reached around his neck and began unfastening his chain mail.

C
orwin pulled at the ties of her cloak. Judith felt it slip from her shoulders, but concentrated on ridding Corwin of the metal rings encasing him. Her focus wavered whenever Corwin’s hands moved-down her arms, around her waist, along her ribs and near her breasts.

Frustrated at her lack of progress, she finally said, “Help me.”

While he unfastened his sword and tugged off his chain mail, Judith picked up the cloak and spread it over-the spot he’d chosen for their bed. When she turned back, she found he’d also made quick work of removing his gambeson and the linen sherte beneath as well.

She’d seen him stripped thus before, down to his breeches. Now as then, she marveled at the sculptured perfection of Corwin’s upper body. When he reached for her, she slid. into his arms and pressed against him. Her cheek to his chest, her palms to his back, Judith gave up a sigh when he closed his arms around her and squeezed tightly.

His kisses were as potent as wine. With each, she became ever more aware of the brush of his soft beard against her chin. Of the cool breeze wafting across her skin as he removed
her gown, then her shift. He eased her down on the cloak, then knelt near her feet.

He picked up her foot and slowly removed her boot and short hose, while his gaze traveled the length of her. She

grew warm where his gaze paused-on her breasts, at the juncture of her thighs. She squirmed at the intensity of his perusal, hungry and dangerous, but also rather liked the

thrill of his eyes on her-evaluating. And if she read his

expression aright, appreciative.

“Well?” she asked as he removed her second boot, flushing at her unsubtle appeal for praise.

“You are lovely, Judith,” he said. “From those wondrous silver eyes of yours to the tips of your toes.”

Her flush deepened. He smiled as he tossed the footwear aside, then slid a hand up her calf. “On the day we met, I took one look at you and fantasized about the treasure a man might find beneath your unrevealing robe.”

“Did you?” she managed to say despite her delighted shiver.

“I did, and I am happy to say my fantasies are well

met-nay, exceeded. A Greek goddess come to earth in

human form.”

“Corwin, stop,” she said, lightly protesting his overdone glorification of her attributes.

“I fear I cannot, my lady,” he said, shifting to remove

his own boots. “I am compelled to utter poetic praise to thy beauty and grace.”

“You have gone daft, then.”

He tossed his boots next to hers.

“Mayhap I have,” he said, turning serious. His azure eyes heated. “Mayhap you should put your clothes back on, wait for some other man who can give you-”

“Nay!” she said, rising to face him. “As you once noticed me, so I noticed you. I, too, suffered fantasies.” Judith
ran a finger along his prominent collarbone. “My nighttime visions of you fell short. You are magnificent to look upon. I want no other man, Corwin. Only you. All of you.”

She leaned forward for a kiss. He granted her wish thoroughly, then pulled her into his arms and onto his lap. His hands roamed. Judith leaned into the caresses and kisses. Her own hands weren’t still. She touched him where she could reach, and basked in a moment of triumph when his muscles twitched beneath her fingertips. ‘Twas a heady revelation-that her touch affected him as his did her.

He fell backward, down onto the cloak, taking her with him. He tugged the tie from her braid to free her hair, separating the long strands with his fingers.

“There, one of my fantasies come true,” he said.

“Have you others?”

“Oh, aye.”

“Show me.”

He rolled her over, leaned above her and assaulted her senses. This was what she’d yearned for-Corwin’s loving. She thrilled to each arousing caress, thought she might melt when those caresses became increasingly intimate.

Once more Corwin drew away from her. He shucked his breeches, revealing the whole imposing length of him, laying open to her view the truly magnificent physical proof of his male need.

Her body responded with a shocking flash of raw hunger, an urgent desire to mate.

Corwin sat still, allowing Judith to look her fill. He knew he would be her first, and wanted to go slowly. But she responded to him with such eagerness that his resolve had begun to wane. Now, she stared at his arousal as though ready to pounce on it. Instead, her delicate hand reached out to touch him, gently but firmly, caressing him along the sensitive underside. Ache and longing became pain.
Control all but vanished. Her innocent exploration fired him from raw steel to tempered blade.

He wanted to dive into her, to lose himself within the softness of Judith’s sweet body. Perversely, he wanted a hard and fast coupling, but one that lasted the whole night long.

He wouldn’t last that long, not in the state he was in. A few strokes and he’d be gone. So Judith had to be ready for him. He pressed his hand to the juncture of her thighs. She hissed and rose up. Hot and wet, she offered him a gift no man could refuse, least of all the man she claimed to love.

No woman had ever told him she loved him, not even in the throes of passion. In truth, there had never been another woman he’d wanted to hear words of love from, and Corwin hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted them from Judith until she’d said them.

He covered her, nuzzling in the valley of her breasts, giving himself-and her-a bit more time. Too, he wanted to be sure there would be no surprises on her part.

“Judith, do you know what we are about to do?”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Only that you will join with me and we will be one. I assume it will be as pleasurable as the rest.”

He dearly hoped so. “There may be some pain, but I will ease it, I swear to you.”

“Then I shall not worry, for you always keep your vows.”

Not always. He broke one tonight-having more than touched the woman he swore to protect, even from himself. He was about to bury himself deep within Judith and take her virginity, and couldn’t come up with a dram of remorse.

Corwin rolled off of her and propped himself up on an arm, and Judith once more admired the power of the man.
Sheer male animal in the guise of Corwin of Lenvil. Fierce knight and tender lover. Her lover.

He put his hand between her thighs. “Spread your legs for me, love,” he said softly.

Whatever Corwin wanted her to do, Judith swore she would, for she could do nothing else. Her body screamed for his, for the completion of an act that would make her a woman in every way. Corwin’s woman.

She closed her eyes as he touched her again in that place wet and aching, waiting for him. He caressed her until she thought she might die from the pleasure of it. Then his hand came away, and he rose above her. He gripped her hips, and ever so slowly slid the tip of his male sword into her female sheath-then plunged to the hilt. Only on the edge of awareness did she feel a brief shot of pain. Her body convulsed upward, meeting his, feeling full and alive and on the verge of shattering.

The deed done, Corwin lowered himself to his elbows and kissed Judith’s face and neck until she relaxed somewhat. Only her short-lived grimace had confirmed her pain. From now on, for as long as he could manage, he would give her only pleasure.

With slow, strong strokes he loved her. He held his own need at tight rein, ensuring Judith’s pleasure came first and with splendor. ‘Twas not easy.

She clutched his shoulders and breathed in soft little pants, driving him wild. Her face twisted with the sweet agony of a woman about to come apart, feeding his need for release. And still he hung on, thrusting her ever upward-and then over.

She reached ecstasy with a gasp of surprise, and then a long, heartfelt moan of pleasure. Not a moment too soon. He lay atop her, his body pounding with a fierce release, his heart and soul soaring in perfect satisfaction.

Her silver eyes opened, sparkling. “I did not know,” she said softly.

Nor did I.
Not like this. Not with such mind-numbing awe or so complete a physical drain. Moving seemed impossible, but move he must to allow her to breathe. Unwilling to separate from her, when he rolled to his back he took her with him.

She snuggled atop him and nuzzled her face into his neck. Content, or so he thought.

“Can we do it again?” she whispered.

To his amazement, his body answered instantly that they could. So they did. With Judith atop. Harder and faster. With no less glorious results.

She slept afterward, curled into his side, using his shoulder as her pillow.

Corwin lay awake, listening to the night sounds, wanting badly to hold back the dawn. It would come, as would the days after. Two days, two more nights. Not enough time.

He craved more-a lifetime. One could not cram an entire lifetime into the hours left until they reached Wilmont.

He kissed Judith’s forehead, making her the silent vow he’d made to himself amid the bouts of mindless passion, and meant no less now.

If there were some way for them to be together, to wed and build a life together, he would find it-no matter who he must placate or defy. Judith was his, and he wouldn’t give her up without one hell of a fight.

Judith had always wanted to visit Wilmont, to see the castle where Ardith lived so happily with Gerard, and get to know the boys mentioned so frequently in her newsy letters. Nearing Wilmont’s gate, Judith wished she were as far away from the place as she could get. But knowing Corwin wouldn’t go with her, she rode on.

The days had been long and hard, riding as fast and far as the horses could bear. The nights had fled by, spent loving and sleeping curled in each other’s embrace. Each dawn meant the passing of another night together, and even so, Corwin had been up and about at the break of each, readying the horses and cajoling her into rising. This dawn, their very last, had been no exception.

Corwin was in a hurry to reach Wilmont. She knew his reasons. They’d talked more about his unusual link with his sister; one Judith didn’t understand fully. But she acknowledged his need to see Ardith and her new child. And there was still the rebellion to deal with. Corwin felt sure Gerard would not only want to hear about it, but might know what to make of information Corwin had stolen from Ruford’s chamber.

Still, he could be a little more upset about the end of their too brief affair.

From atop Wilmont’s palisade she heard a shout. A guard near the gate waved his lance, calling out, pointing down at them. Others soon joined him. From her side, Corwin laughed and then waved. A cheer went up.

“Ah, ‘tis good to be back,” Corwin said, and urged his horse to a faster pace. She followed him through the gate into the sprawling, busy bailey. People made way for them, smiling up at Corwin, some shouting a welcome. As they rode up to the castle’s stairway, young men rushed forward to take the horses. Corwin bounded out of his saddle, then reached up to help her down. Once on her feet, Judith had little time to either look about or gain some manner of composure. Corwin grabbed her hand and rushed her up the stairs.

He pushed open the huge oak doors, and they-entered the great hall of Wilmont. Judith gasped at its splendor. Columns of glimmering marble supported the high, ornate
oak rafters. All manner of ancient weapons hung on the whitened stone walls, the trappings of soldiers interspersed with large, colorful banners.

Dogs lounged in the warmth of a huge hearth, where women worked with distaff and spindle. On the dais stood a table covered with pearl-white linen, presided over by several dark, high-backed chairs. Beyond the dais, hawks and falcons preened on their perches.

For all its expanse and show of wealth, ‘twas still a warm, homey room, made so by Ardith-who rose from her hearth-side chair, squealed Corwin’s name and came running across the room. She fairly leaped into her brother’s arms. Corwin spun Ardith around once before putting her back on her feet.

“Thank God,” Corwin said, relief strong in his voice. “From the force of your pain, I did not expect you to be on your feet this soon.”

“Truly? ‘Twas not as bad this time as last.” Ardith touched the hair on his face. “A beard?”

“What think you?”

“It makes you look.changed, somehow. For the good, I think.”

Ardith then turned and opened her arms. Judith stepped into her friend’s hug and returned it with equal fervor.

“I am so glad to see you both,” Ardith said. “We have all been so worried. Your aunt Matilda is near frantic.”

“She need not have been. Corwin has kept me safe these many weeks.”

Ardith sent a questioning glance Corwin’s way. “Did he, now? I sense a story here.”

“Aye, and a long one,” Corwin said. “If you would see to Judith, I need to talk to Gerard. Upstairs?”

At her nod, he requested ale be sent up, then hurried off.

Ardith grasped Judith’s hands. “You look done in.
Come, sit by the hearth. We will get you some wine and you can tell me this long story.”

She would rather put it off, let Corwin do the telling, but knowing Ardith’s tenacious ways, she might as well begin. “I shall trade you a story for a look at the new baby.”

“Done,” Ardith said. “Come meet Matthew.”

The door to Gerard’s counting chamber stood open. Gerard sat behind a table stacked with parchments. He looked up, his eyes narrowing, as Corwin entered.

“Corwin?”

“Aye, ‘tis me, and aye, I grew a beard.” Corwin sank down into the chair opposite Gerard, wishing he’d shaved the beard to spare himself the strange looks he was getting.

“Did you find her?” Gerard asked, diving right to the heart of the matter.

“I did. Judith Canmore is in the hall, in Ardith’s care.”

“Well done, though it took you long enough. You do realize that authorities from two kingdoms are looking for both of you?”

“I suspected as much. ‘Twas a constant worry that someone might actually find us.”

Before Gerard could express the surprise on his face, the ale arrived-a large bucket full to the brim with frothy brew, accompanied by two goblets. The obliging servant closed the door behind her when she left.