Cast Love Aside (8 page)

“Of course.” She wasn't sure she wouldn't
flinch, but she wasn't going to expose her possible cowardice to
Magnus.

“Sit down,” he ordered, pulling his eating
knife from its sheath at his belt, “and let me see the splinter
more clearly.”

She sat, being careful not to upset the wine
pitcher. Staring in fascination at the knife, she extended her left
hand.

“Hold the candle closer,” Magnus commanded.
“Now, don't move.”

She braced herself for pain, but she felt
nothing when the sharp tip of the knife sliced into the base of her
thumb. By then she was no longer looking at the knife; she was
watching Magnus, noting the intense expression on his face, the
firm line of his mouth, and the way his shining dark hair lay
smoothly over his skull to end in a precise edge halfway down his
forehead. His eyebrows were drawn together in a slight frown as he
concentrated on what he was doing. His left hand held her wrist in
a firm grip. They were sitting so close their knees were touching,
but Magnus didn't seem to notice.

Lilianne felt an uncomfortable prick as he
caught the piece of wood on the tip of his knife and lifted it out,
but she didn't move.

“There.” He showed her the splinter.

“It's so small to hurt the way it did,” she
exclaimed.

“It was lodged in a sensitive place.” Laying
down the knife, he dipped the napkin into the wine in the pitcher
and dabbed at the cut with the moistened linen. “Press down on that
and it'll soon stop bleeding.”

“I can't press it,” she said. “I'm holding
the candle.”

“So you are.” He pinched out the flame and
took the candleholder from her, placing it on the tray. She
followed every movement of his large, fine hands.

“Drink this,” he commanded, filling the cup
with wine and holding it out to her.

“Why must everything you say to me be an
order?” she asked.

“I hadn't noticed.” His mouth softened into a
rueful smile. “My lady, will you be good enough to sip a bit of
wine? I'm sure you will find it helps to ease any lingering
discomfort in your hand.”

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she responded,
letting herself relax into an answering smile. “You are most
thoughtful.” Accepting the cup, she took a long gulp of the
wine.

“Thank you, Magnus,” she said again, more
seriously this time. “I’m grateful for your help. How can I repay
you?”

“My usual payment for such a service,” he
said, wondering what her reaction would be, “is a kiss.”

Her gaze locked on his, violet eyes wide, and
Magnus perceived astonishment in those beautiful depths. Her rosy
lips were parted, and he thought he'd perish right there in the
airless little cabin, unless he could press his mouth on those twin
rose petals.

“M-Magnus?”

The surprised question was uttered so softly
that he had to lean closer to hear it. Lilianne smelled of
lavender-scented soap and Magnus knew if he kissed her once, he'd
never want to stop.

“Of course,” he said, “if you prefer to
remain in my debt, you may.”

“Oh, no.” A faint hint of amusement lurked in
her eyes, as if she had decided he was only joking. Her lips tilted
enticingly. “I always pay my debts promptly.”

“What debts could you possibly have?” he
asked.

“Well, I – there’s this.” She held up her
left hand with the napkin still wrapped around it.

“Precisely.” Exerting all his self-control,
he waited to see what she would do next.

She caught her breath, and Magnus was
painfully aware of the movement of her lush bosom under the wool of
her gown. He fought against the urge to push her back onto the bunk
and fling himself on top of her to plunder her sweet, trembling
mouth while he caressed her breasts the way he ached to do. Having
gone so far, he knew he'd have her skirt pushed up in a moment, so
he could see and touch all of her long, curving legs as far as her
ivory thighs. And then, unable to stop himself, he'd—

“Allow me to pay my debt now,” Lilianne
whispered, inching a little closer to him.

Her right hand touched his cheek and Magnus
gritted his teeth to stop the groan he longed to utter. He wished
he could suppress the painfully eager evidence his lower body was
offering in response to Lilianne's nearness.

He couldn't understand his reaction to her.
He’d always been able to manage the hungers of his body, taking his
pleasure where he could while staying in complete control of his
emotions. Only this tall, lusciously female creature threatened to
drive him beyond all control. If he once put his arms around her
and touched his mouth to hers and felt her respond to him, he knew
he'd never stop kissing her, never stop wanting her. He'd pour his
heart and his manhood into Lilianne and never cease to desire her
until the day he died.

That was a situation he could not allow.

He sat rigid and unmoving while Lilianne
scooted still closer on the bunk. Lifting her face, she lightly
placed her lips on his. Magnus kept his eyes wide open, so he saw
the purple shadows on her closed lids. He saw up close how smooth
her skin was. He even saw the tiny mole, no larger than a pinhead,
at the outer corner of her left eye.

She drew away, to regard him with a hurt
expression.

“I expected you to kiss me back,” she
whispered. “You did say you wanted the kiss.”

“My lady,” he began, resorting to painful
formality because he was uncertain how to explain what he couldn't
fully understand.

“Is Uncle Erland correct, then?” she asked.
“He says I am too big and too ugly for any man ever to desire any
intimacy with me. But you picked me up, Magnus. When you carried me
to the rowboat, I felt light as air. For once, I felt like any
other girl. For that kindness alone, I thought you deserved to
receive my first kiss. But you didn't really want my kiss, did you?
You were only teasing. I should have known better than to think you
were serious.”

“Lilianne—”

“I am sorry, Sir Magnus.” She hung her head,
her shoulders slumping. “You have been kind to me, and you've
promised to help me learn where my brother is. All I've done in
return is cause you trouble and embarrass you. I do apologize.”

“I don’t like you humble,” he said. Unable to
help himself, longing to restore her usual cheerful confidence, he
caught her face between his hands, forcing her to look directly at
him. “If your uncle says you are ugly, it's because he is blind.
Lilianne, you are a beautiful, priceless treasure.”

“I am?”

She raised her head and there was that
trusting look again, the violet eyes wide, the soft lips atremble.
Magnus, who had spent years believing he could resist the
blandishments of any woman, however desirable, suddenly found
himself about to succumb to the naive wiles of a girl who had never
been properly kissed. Her lost look he could remedy, even if he
could not, in honor, take what else she offered. He wasn't sure she
was aware of what she was offering; that Lilianne de Sainte Inge
remained sensually unawakened was painfully obvious to him. With
every fiber of his being he longed to be the man to arouse the rich
passion that he suspected lay sleeping beneath her sweet innocence.
At the same time, he knew he had no right to lay his crude hands on
her.

But he could kiss her – just one kiss – to
let her know she was desirable, to restore the feminine confidence
her uncle had undermined with cruel words.

Only one kiss, he told himself, and then he'd
never touch her again. He could do that much for her. For
Lilianne's sake, he'd control his rampaging lust.

As soon as he reached England, he'd find a
willing female, a tavern wench, or a lady's maid, or perhaps one of
the many noblewomen who were eager to bestow sexual favors outside
the marriage bed, whose indecent interest in his great size he had
always shrugged off before, and he'd slake his lust and be done
with the uncomfortable demands of his manhood. Then he'd forget all
about Lilianne de Sainte Inge.

He could do it. He knew he could.

Still holding her face tenderly between his
palms, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Lilianne's breath was sweet as roses. Her
lips were soft and moist and they parted easily under the pressure
of his mouth. Her hand stroked up into his hair, pulling him a
little nearer. She didn't even know enough of men to understand
that she ought to hold something of herself back from him. She
leaned against him, giving freely of her warmth and goodness, and
Magnus eagerly accepted the gift. Without thinking, acting out of
simple male instinct, he touched his tongue to hers. She made a
soft noise, not quite a whimper of desire, yet something more than
a sigh. She didn’t fight what he was doing, but welcomed the
intrusion.

His wits spinning, Magnus drew back to stare
at her. One kiss, and now he knew he'd never be able to substitute
another woman for her.

“Oh, Magnus,” she whispered, her fingertips
lightly caressing his bristly cheek.

“Magnus? Is the splinter out?” The cabin door
opened and Braedon appeared. He looked from Magnus to Lilianne and
his expressive eyebrows rose. A slow grin spread across his
handsome face. “Yes, I can see that the removal was
successful.”

“What is it?” Magnus growled, wrenching his
gaze from Lilianne's flushed face.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Braedon said, still
grinning, “but I thought you'd want to know.”

“Know what?” Magnus demanded irritably.

“Erland is awake.”

“Untie me at once.”

Erland snarled the words at Magnus the
instant he stepped into the larger cabin. The fact that Erland was
lying on his side, unable to move, probably didn't help matters
from his point of view. What the count surely intended as haughty
defiance sounded more like whining. Magnus regarded him with
distaste.

“You’ll get no ransom from me if you persist
in mistreating me this way,” Erland continued his complaints. “King
Louis will have your head for what you've done to me.”

“Oh, never fear, you will be ransomed.”
Magnus was intensely aware of Lilianne directly behind him, and of
Braedon crowding through the door. Crossing the cabin to Erland's
bunk, he considered his prisoner. “However, I doubt if either you
or King Louis will like the price of your freedom.”

“What price?” Erland demanded.

“I regret to say, you will have to wait until
later to learn just how valuable you are to us,” Magnus told
him.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To England, of course.” Magnus spoke with a
smile that anyone who knew him would have recognized as dangerous,
though Erland couldn’t have understood it. “Then, I want to speak
to your king as soon as this miserable ship docks!” Erland
demanded.

“No.” Magnus put cool satisfaction into the
denial

“I insist upon a meeting!” Erland jerked his
head and shoulders, trying to sit up without using his bound arms.
He fell back on the mattress, his eyes blazing, his mouth pulled
into a grimace of pain. “I'll kill the man who gave me this
headache!”

“After we arrive in England, you may speak to
King Henry's representative.” Magnus spoke softly, making the
promise into a threat. Erland understood; Magnus saw the
comprehension in his face. Erland expected to be tortured. Good.
Let him think so.

At that moment Magnus experienced another of
the chills that had plagued him intermittently since the day when
he’d first learned of his brother’s plight. Did the cold running
along his spine mean that Desmond was being tortured? He tried not
to think about the possibility.

“Lilianne!” Erland exclaimed, turning his
attention to her. “You traitorous bitch! You conducted these men to
my private room at the manor. What did they offer you if you would
help them?”

“Uncle,” Lilianne began, but Erland cut her
off before she could answer him.

“As for you,” he shouted at Alice, who had
risen from her bunk and was retreating toward the door, “is this
the thanks I get for taking you away from an endless round of
scrubbing convent floors and washing dirty linens? Answer me, you
stupid females! What are the two of you doing here?” On that last
question Erland raised his voice to a roar.

Alice began to shake, pressing herself
against the door jam for support. William placed a comforting hand
on her arm.

Lilianne's back stiffened as if she was
preparing to withstand further assault. But then, while Magnus
watched with growing admiration, she went on the attack.

“Uncle, cease these unfair accusations at
once! Alice and I are not to blame for what has happened to you.”
Lilianne stalked over to the bunk to glare down at him. “Alice and
I are here because we dared not remain alone and unprotected at
Manoir Sainte Inge after you were gone.”

“In point of fact,” Magnus said to Erland,
“both ladies are my prisoners. They had no choice but to accompany
you on your voyage.” He hoped the excuse would provide some
protection for the two women after they and Erland were all safely
returned to France. After Desmond was free. After Lilianne was gone
from his life forever.

“They will not be ransomed,” Erland declared,
adding with considerable venom, “Neither wench is worth the cost of
a scrap of parchment to carry a ransom demand. Do with them as you
will.”

While Magnus clenched his fists at his sides
to prevent himself from punching a man who couldn't strike back, he
sent a warning look at William, lest that overly emotional young
man should decide to challenge Erland for Alice's sake. Meanwhile,
Lilianne planted her hands on her hips and bent forward until her
nose was almost touching Erland's.

“Understand this well, Uncle,” she said in a
tone that nearly matched his for dislike, “I don't care how low
your opinion of me is. Hate me if you will. Despise me, as you
despise all women. Just tell me where you have hidden Gilbert.”