Cast Love Aside (17 page)

“I thought you'd prefer to use Captain
Piers.” Magnus did his best to sound casual because he had just
conjured up an idea of his own, one that would require the services
of Captain Piers and his ship.

“As a nobleman attending the court of his
liege lord, I will travel in official state, on a royal ship,”
Royce said. “The
Daisy
isn’t grand enough for the impression
I wish to make. My grandeur will be calculated to forestall any
questions a bout my true purpose in Normandy. No one at court will
be surprised when the king grants me a prompt interview. “

“You’ll be gone for some time, then?” Magnus
asked. “For several weeks, at least? While I, and the others, sit
here idly.”

“I expect you to await my return with as much
patience as you can muster,” Royce said sternly.

“Do you expect Desmond to be patient,
too?”

“I’ve told you, I intend to see Desmond
freed. While I am away, you have my permission to question Erland
as often as you like. I doubt if he will allow any important facts
to slip, but every man does have his weaknesses. Do not permit him
access to any of the castle whores. I think you are right about his
request; he’s hoping to find a way to send a message to his fellow
spies. Oh, and do please take care that Lilianne doesn't kill him
before I return.”

Having issued his instructions, Royce headed
for the keep, leaving Magnus to wonder if King Henry's spymaster
possessed any weaknesses at all.

Lilianne fled from the western tower to the
keep and then to her bedchamber. At first she sat on the side of
the bed, staring at the wall with unseeing eyes, too grief-stricken
even for tears and too numb to accept that her worst fears for her
brother had been confirmed by the one person who knew Gilbert's
fate for certain.

Guilt bedeviled her. If she had stayed at
Manoir Sainte Inge instead of running off with Magnus and his
friends, if she had thought to pry open the lock and search
Erland's private room while he was gone from the manor and thereby
discovered evidence of where he was hiding Gilbert, if she had then
ventured into the tower, she might have found Gilbert in time to
save him. If only she hadn't been fooled by Erland's cruel
trickery.

It wasn't long before her numbness began to
recede and her unhappy thoughts coalesced into a need for action.
With Gilbert dead, her heart and mind together proclaimed one last
duty that she owed to him. No one, not Royce, and not Magnus, was
going to prevent her from performing it.

Having made her decision she touched the
pouch she kept fastened to her belt. The small leather bag
contained the coins and her mother's jewelry that she had brought
away from Manoir Sainte Inge. She prayed it would be enough to pay
her passage back to France. Unwilling to consider the perils she
would surely face during her quest, lest cautious thought should
deter her, she caught up her cloak and flung it around her
shoulders.

With no parchment or ink in the bedchamber
she couldn't write a note for Alice. She resolved to leave a spoken
message with one of the servants. She told herself Alice would
understand.

She hadn't latched the door, so when Magnus
came he just pushed it open and stepped inside. He didn't make a
sound and Lilianne was so engrossed with fastening her cloak while
trying to think of a means of coaxing one of the grooms into
letting her have a horse, that she didn't notice him until she
turned to the doorway.

“Where are you going?” Magnus asked,
regarding her with what seemed to her unconcealed suspicion.

“It is common courtesy to knock before
entering a lady's room,” she snapped. When she took note of the
unhappiness etching deep lines in his face, sympathy softened her
eagerness to be gone. “Has Erland said anything more about your
brother?”

“Not a word more.”

“Do you fear he's—?” She paused to swallow
the lump in her throat. “Could your brother be dead, like
Gilbert?”

“I believe if he were, I'd feel it. There’s a
strange connection between twins. I don't know how to explain it,
except to say that I’ve been having chills from time to time, along
with a sense of darkness and dampness. I think I’m experiencing
some of what Desmond is feeling. It started the day Royce first
assigned me to this mission and it hasn’t stopped yet. That’s why I
think Desmond is still alive, somewhere. The problem is finding
him.”

“How extraordinary.” Lilianne was intrigued,
in spite of her own personal misery and her longing to leave
Richton before anyone could stop her. “Gilbert and I were always
close, too. Sometimes, I could guess what he was thinking. Of
course, I cannot sense anything about him now.” Her voice broke a
little, so she fell silent, not wanting Magnus to think she was
wallowing in grief.

“Desmond and I are not close,” he said. “Not
since well before our father died and our older brother inherited
Ashendown and the title of baron. I haven't seen Des for years. He
and I chose different paths. He was always willing to take wild
risks.”

“And you are not?” She couldn’t help the soft
laugh that escaped her lips. “What is a riskier way of life than
spying?”

“I am not a spy,” he stated, very firmly.

“No?” She didn't believe him and her doubt
sounded in her voice. “Anyone can see how Royce relies on you.”

“I've never done anything like this before,”
Magnus said. “When Royce first approached me, I was a simple
household knight, just one of many pledged to King Henry's service.
Spying doesn't suit me any more than courtly intrigue does. I tell
you truly, Lilianne, I wouldn't have been at Manoir Sainte Inge,
and I wouldn't be here at Richton now, if my brother weren't in
life-threatening trouble. If not for Des being captured, Royce
would barely acknowledge my existence on the rare occasions when we
meet at court. I’m not clever enough to be a master spy.”

“Oh, you are clever,” she said, wishing he
would go away so she could leave. She didn't know why he had come
to her room. “I think you are far more clever than either Royce or
Erland.”

“Is that meant as a compliment, or an
insult?” he asked with a wry look.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, “but I know you
are not the simple knight you claim to be.”

“I have never deliberately misled you,
Lilianne. When we met, I was bent upon bringing Erland here to
Richton, and I told you so. I swear to you on my very soul, if I'd
had any idea your brother lay imprisoned at the manor, we'd have
brought him away, too.”

“I believe you. Don't blame yourself. I am
the one at fault. In betraying my uncle to you, I also betrayed my
brother to his death.” She covered her face with her hands to hide
the fresh spurt of tears. She was so distraught that she didn’t
protest when Magnus gathered her into his arms.

“Erland is to blame for Gilbert's death, not
you,” Magnus declared. “If he had treated the boy as an uncle
should, if he hadn't coveted Gilbert's lands and title, your
brother would still be alive. But Erland wanted his nephew dead.
Even if we hadn't abducted Erland, he would very soon have made the
choice to allow Gilbert to starve. The fact that you were living at
the manor wouldn't have stopped him from committing that evil
deed.”

“I know you’re right, but still.” She
couldn't go on. The thought of Gilbert, alone and frightened in the
tower room at Manoir Sainte Inge, growing steadily weaker, his life
ebbing with no one to offer a prayer for his youthful soul or to
hold his hand at the end, was too terrible for any sister's heart
to bear.

“I hate Erland!” she cried. “I've never in my
life hated any man or woman, but after what I learned today, I do
hate him. How could he be so cruel? And how can he be so
indifferent to what he has done?” She buried her face in Magnus's
shoulder, clinging to him as if he were the only source of comfort
in a lonely and barren world.

“Cry all you want, my sweet,” he murmured.
“Perhaps you'll feel better afterward. Then you can tell me why you
are wearing a cloak and where you were headed when I opened the
door.”

“I was only going for a walk, and I don't
want to cry.” Knowing if she remained in his warm embrace any
longer she really would cry, she pushed him away saying, “I know
you don't care about Gilbert. He was just a boy, someone of no
importance in your plan to save your own brother.”

“Of course, I care. What Erland did was a
heartless atrocity. Any decent man must be outraged by his
villainy.”

“Thank you.” She gazed at his harsh features,
seeing how his habitual sternness was gentled by his concern for
her. “You’re a good man, Magnus.”

“Ah, Lilianne, what I would give to see you
smile again.”

Overcome by sudden tenderness, she raised a
hand to touch his cheek. Magnus uttered a soft sound that wasn't
any word she understood. The next moment he was kissing her. Grief
and rage and longing all blended together in Lilianne's heart into
an emotion she could neither comprehend nor control. The touch of
Magnus's mouth on hers recalled the kisses and caresses he had
bestowed on her while they were aboard the
Daisy,
and
suddenly Lilianne wanted more than mere kisses from him. She sensed
that Magnus wanted more, too. She reminded herself that she needed
to get away from Richton Castle, yet she couldn't leave Magnus. Not
immediately.

She laced her fingers through his thick hair
and then, compelled by the primitive urging of her body, she leaned
against him, feeling his hard chest against her softer frame.

“We mustn't do this,” he groaned, wrenching
his mouth from hers. “I’ve nothing to offer you, no lands, no
title. I have no right to touch you.”

“Then we are equals,” she said, “for I have
nothing, either. My family is gone, my dowry stolen. All I have
left is a great emptiness.”

“It's comfort you want, not passion,” he
said.

“Perhaps. But I need you to hold me for just
a little while. Don't leave me,” she begged, almost beside herself
with grief and a hunger she didn't understand.

Torn by conflicting emotions as she was,
despairing and frightened of the uncertain future, still she did
notice when something about Magnus changed. She knew he had made a
decision of some kind. His next kiss was more heated, his tongue
pushing at her lips until she opened her mouth and he plunged
inside. The sudden velvet warmth and moisture, the sense of being
overcome by an unfamiliar emotion left her aching when he broke off
the kiss.

Keeping his arms around her, Magnus walked
her backward a few steps to the bed. When he reached it, he pressed
her down onto the coverlet. Lilianne did not resist. By the time
her head was on the pillow, his lips were on hers again, his tongue
pushing against her once more. She willingly opened her mouth to
him, relishing the hot surge of him into her. Magnus tasted of the
honey and cinnamon that had flavored the pastry he'd eaten at the
midday meal.

He unfastened her cloak, brushing it aside.
One big hand settled over her breast and Lilianne whimpered in
surprise. Magnus's palm was warm through the wool of her gown. She
felt her nipple tightening against her linen shift, the slight
roughness of the fabric adding to the remarkable sensations
flooding over her. A hot sweetness filled her, banishing all
thought and providing oblivion from sorrow, until Magnus removed
his hand.

She shifted in restless urgency, wanting
more. As if in silent understanding of her need, Magnus's hand slid
along her leg. She wasn't aware of exactly when he had lifted her
skirts, but they were hiked up around her thighs. He began to
caress her knee, the warrior’s calluses on his hands providing a
thrilling contrast to her own, smoother skin. She shivered with
awakening desire.

“Lilianne?” He looked at her, a question in
his grey eyes.

“Don't stop,” she gasped. “Please, Magnus, I
want – I ache—”

“I promise, I'll not hurt you.” His voice was
ragged, as if he was fighting his own, complex emotions. He buried
his face against her throat and let his hand rove upward along her
inner thigh.

Lilianne moaned and moved again, seeking his
touch upon the particular place where all of her longing burned and
seethed.

“Oh!” She couldn't help the way she cried out
when his cool fingers reached her heat. One long finger slipped
inside her, probing carefully, while another finger pressed on an
incredibly sensitive spot. She pushed hard against his hand,
wanting more from him. With a low, completely masculine sound of
pleasure, he began to rub and stroke the aching spot. A last, tiny
vestige of reason warned her that she ought to protest what he was
doing, that no man save a lawful husband ought to touch a woman the
way he was touching her. In the next heartbeat reason disappeared
and pure, sensual pleasure overcame her.

Lilianne burst into an ecstasy as sharp and
intense as it was brief. Magnus's hand stayed where it was,
pressing more gently now, until she returned to herself again. Her
body was relaxed, all her earlier rigid tenseness and
grief-stricken trembling gone, yet she yearned for Magnus to
continue his lovemaking and when he removed his hand she protested
the loss of the tender pressure with a wordless cry.

“What happened?” she asked as soon as she
could speak. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing to harm you,” he said. “I will never
hurt you, Lilianne. I'll continue to serve you as a knight is bound
to serve his lady.”

“I’m not completely ignorant,” she said,
moving against him, not yet fully satisfied. “I know there's more.
If you stop now, it's not fair to you, and I want more, too.” Very
deliberately, she laid her hand atop the large bulge in his hose.
Before her fingers could curl around it, Magnus caught her wrist
and lifted her hand away.