Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03 (8 page)

“Show me, teach me to please you,” she begged him, and Michel was forced to close his eyes against the promise he read in hers, lest the temptation become too much for him to withstand.  Elena’s eagerness to please him, to be with him, only drew him deeper within the circle of her bewitching innocence.

Feeling his control slipping through his mind’s slackening grip and into his aching loins, Michel gathered himself with an effort and removed his hand from the temptation of her softness. 

“No,” she protested tearfully, and when she would have reached for his hand to replace it on her aching breast, he captured it within his gentle grasp and raised it to his lips.

“This is not the time for us to give reign to the attraction between us.  Your uncle is dead.  I will not take advantage of your very near grief and your maidenly innocence.  When you give yourself to me, Elena, it will not be with the pain of loss and the fear of being alone clouding your thoughts and influencing your surrender.”

“My thoughts are not clouded,” she denied, and then at the challenge in his gaze steadily holding hers, she added in a burst of honesty, “at least not by grief or fear.  But I can see your attention is once again far from me and these precious moments between us.  When I give myself to you, Michel, it will not be with the weight of your responsibilities distracting you from our coming together as a man and woman.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with new admiration as they acknowledged the answering challenge in her words and her direct gaze maintaining contact with his. He could see the evidence of how much her little burst of bravado cost her.  Such was the fierceness of her blush, her pale cheeks appeared as if she’d spent too much time beneath a summer sun, but still he was impressed when she didn’t lower her gaze from his even as he stroked his knuckles across the smooth, flaming color.   

Sighing with reluctance, Michel set her away from him and waited impatiently, clamping down on the urge to draw her back into his suddenly bereft arms, while she clumsily steadied herself and set her gown and hair to rights.  When he would have led her back to the camp, Elena tugged on his hand and he raised an enquiring brow in her direction.

“With your permission, lord, I would like a few minutes to be alone with my grief.  I would sit by the river bank for a while and offer my prayers for God’s blessing on my uncle that he may be granted peace and eternal rest, and speedy passage through his sojourn in purgatory so that he may enter into the promise of heaven.”  Sensing his uncertainty at the thought of leaving her alone, Elena added, “You may send a guard to keep an eye on me.  I will not wander off.  I will stay right there beneath the shadow of the tree with that large branch reaching over the river.”  She pointed to a spot not far away and Michel reluctantly nodded his permission.

He bent his head to brush his lips across hers and admonished her sternly.  “I expect you to keep your word not to wander off and I will indeed send a guard, or perhaps two, to keep an eye on you.”

She smiled at his gentle kiss and wonderingly lifted the fingertips of one hand to her lips as if she could capture his caress and keep it there.  Where the woman emerged just moments ago, the child was back in her place, her soft gaze clinging to his as if he was the embodiment of all her innocent, maidenly dreams. As he watched her walk away, Michel could feel himself being pulled inexorably deeper beneath the spell of Elena’s bewitching purity, then shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he chided himself for his foolish thoughts.  It had indeed been too long since he’d indulged in the company of a woman if he was suddenly finding himself bemused by a doe-eyed innocent who seemed to believe he hung the moon in the night sky.

Elena did a lot of sighing as she sat on the damp ground watching the swift current of the spring stream hurrying by.  She wondered what its hurry was.  Would its crisp, clear water not end up at the same destination regardless of whether it raced towards its journey’s end or traveled at a more sedate pace? Did the same hold true for human beings?  Had her life’s course already been laid out in front of her and she had only to place her feet on the path and follow along? Was Prince Michel her destiny or only a young girl’s daydream?  And how was someone of her limited life experience to know the difference? 

It was at times like these when she most missed her mother.  Though her memories of her mother were but a hazy recollection of soft arms, a gentle manner and a lovely countenance, encased in those memories was the certainty that she had been loved.  Uncle Barnabas did his best to replace both of her parents in her young life, but there was no denying he’d been woefully inadequate as a substitute for a mother’s love.  Elena felt certain if her mother was still alive, or even if her Uncle Barnabas had married and she had grown up with a woman’s influence in her life, she would not now be so ignorant about the chaotic feelings Prince Michel roused in her. 

At the reminder of her uncle, she tried to offer a sincere prayer for his eternal soul, but her thoughts were swirling inside her head and she couldn’t concentrate on her petitions.  Feeling guilty at her lack of focus, she promised herself and her uncle’s gentle spirit, she would pray for him again when she was feeling more settled.  She did not chastise herself too harshly, however, as even one of the lord’s most devoted followers could not be expected to keep her thoughts straight in light of her first experience with a man’s passion.

Those same feelings even now intruded on her thoughts and made her catch her breath as she relived those priceless moments of being held against Michel’s strong chest and the feel of his lips pressed against hers.  She’d been shocked when his head dipped to claim her lips and she realized he was going to kiss her.  Somehow she’d known even as she tried to conceal her astonishment at his intention, that he was not going to kiss her the way a brother kissed a younger sister or perhaps a young, and somewhat irritating cousin, but as a man kissed a woman he desired. 

Here, she remembered thinking, was her opportunity to prove to Michel she was not the child he thought of her as.  The problem with her proposed plan was that she’d never before been kissed by a man so she had no notion as to how to go about disputing his infuriating opinion.  Still she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity fate had granted her.

She remembered the challenge in his expression when she didn’t pull away from the circle of his embrace as it slowly tightened around her.  She guessed he expected her to flee in terror at the sight of the masculine desire she could read in his intent gaze. Or to be so shocked by his boldness she would scurry away back to the safety of camp. 

Men could be surprisingly stupid at times, Elena concluded.  Despite her youth and lack of feminine role models she played mistress for her uncle’s household long enough to reach her just conclusion.  Hadn’t she spent the past weeks since their initial, unorthodox introduction attempting to gain Michel’s attention?  Hadn’t she been bound and determined that he look at her as a woman and not the child he persisted in referring to her as whenever her presence among his followers came up in conversation?

So it was with a feeling of heady relief when she saw the challenge in his eyes and realized he meant to test her claim that she was no longer a child, but a woman worthy of his consideration as such.  Elena sighed again, her lips curving in a dreamy smile as she remembered the sensation of Michel’s lips crushing hers.  She grinned, recalling how she was forced to disguise her shock when his tongue slid along her bottom lip seeking entrance to her mouth.  Her lips had parted on a breathless gasp, and then his tongue swept inside to engage hers. After that her recollections weren’t so clear.  She could only recall the avalanche of feelings that swamped her when Michel pulled her closer against him, and then filled his large hand with the softness of her breast.  Even now her breath caught in her throat at the way his thumb teased her erect nipple until she thought she could no longer stand on her own and realized it was only his strong arm around her keeping her upright.

She’d felt his male hardness nestled against the soft flesh of her belly and understood what it signified.  Elena’s lips curved in a satisfied, reminiscent smile because even in her innocence she understood Prince Michel was not thinking of her as a child when he held her close against his hardness.  His breathing had grown harsh and uneven as his lips trailed across the delicate skin of her throat. 

Dreams of what her future would hold if she became his wife and the intimacies they would share replaced her terror of what she once believed her future would hold. All of a sudden the future appeared bright and full of promise.  She supposed she should give her maker his due.  Hadn’t she prayed for God to send her a knight to rescue her from Baron Raulf’s evil clutches?

Smiling, she sent up a heartfelt prayer to her heavenly father, and then suddenly recalling her desire for a few moments privacy to pray for her uncle’s eternal soul, she hung her head in contrite shame and offered a fervent petition for her uncle’s gentle spirit. 

After but a few moments of quiet prayer and reflection, however, her thoughts were back to swirling around inside her head in a chaotic manner and she was unable to concentrate further on her petitions. Her lips curled upward in a foolish smile and her hands drew playful designs in the sandy earth where she rested near the stream.  Her fingers brushed across something hard and sharp, and distracted from her pleasant day-dreams, she let her gaze drop downward to see what her busy hands had unearthed.  Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight greeting her, and her lips formed an astonished, “Oh!”

The familiar stone was caked with mud and sand, and the silver clasp that kept it tethered to the thin silver chain around its owner’s neck was no longer polished and shining, but she reluctantly acknowledged what she had uncovered.  The gem no longer glowed blue in the early morning light as it did when it rested against Michel’s flesh, but there was little doubt in Elena’s mind she’d found the treasure he so frantically pursued against the current after he lost it while bathing that morning.  For a brief, guilt-inducing moment Elena considered leaving the stone where she found it. Given their recent exchange, she was reluctant to remind Michel of the lady who had likely made a gift to him of the strange jewel.

Recalling his stricken expression at its loss, Elena knew it would not be right for her to deprive him of a keepsake Michel so obviously valued.  So with studied reluctance, she carefully dug the stone out from its resting place and lifted it onto her lap so she could examine the odd amulet more closely.  It wasn’t the work of a particularly skilled artisan, she thought, eyeing its sharp edges and uneven lines.  Even as she lifted it from her lap to examine it more closely, the gem slipped from her grasp and rolled down the bank towards the stream.

Gasping in surprise, Elena stretched out her arm and closed her fist around the stone just as it would have fallen back into the rushing water.  Silently rebuking herself for her carelessness, she scooted herself back several feet away from the river’s edge with the jeweled stone clasped firmly in her closed fist, only belatedly becoming aware of a burning sensation in her hand, as if the treasure she held resented her interference in its course.  Muttering beneath her breath she quickly dropped the stone into her lap and shook her hand to ease the stinging pain. 

Her brows drawn together in confusion she examined the palm of her hand that held the stone.  There were red marks on her skin mirroring the shape of the stone. Confused by the evidence she could not make sense of, she carefully used her skirts to cradle Michel’s lost treasure while she crawled back to the stream to dunk her hand in the cold water to ease her discomfort. 

When she pulled her hand back out of the stream she was relieved to find the pain had left her but the odd imprint remained.  More careful now, she scooted back away from the edge, wrapped the stone in a handful of her skirt and stowed it in her pocket, only to have it slide through a previously undiscovered hole, fall to the ground and bounce along, seemingly of its own accord, back in the direction of the stream.

Astonishment froze her steps for a brief moment before she set off in pursuit of what she now concluded must be a magic stone.  No wonder Michel was so devastated by its loss.  She managed to catch up with the fleeing treasure before it was once more lost beneath the rushing current, but not before she slid from the slippery bank and fell head first into the icy water. Muttering over her own clumsiness and the stone’s seeming intent to escape her grasp; she once more wrapped the recalcitrant treasure in a length of her skirt and awkwardly climbed out of the stream.  She wasn’t taking any chances on stowing it away again, so shivering with cold, and using her free hand to drag the wet tail of her long hair away from her face, she set off along the trail in the direction of the camp. 

While she squished along in her wet, borrowed boots, she prayed fervently there would be no one around to witness her embarrassment when she returned to camp. Of course, her prayers went unanswered.  The two guards Michel assigned to watch over her, upon hearing her surprised scream at finding herself in the icy water were already hurrying along the path to her rescue.  Seeing her bedraggled and obviously unharmed condition, one of the men did his best to suppress his amused grin while at the same time removing his dry cloak and offering it to her.

Elena muttered her less than gracious gratitude for his consideration, then expressed a second, more heartfelt thanks when she enfolded her shivering form in its warmth. Fortunately her guards didn’t compound her embarrassment by asking her what had happened or pestering her with questions about whether or not she was all right.  As if sensing her discomfort at her own clumsiness they thankfully escorted her in silence so she could wallow in it in peace.

She was thankful Michel was not around to witness her return to camp.  She did not doubt he would have enjoyed the sight of the ridiculous spectacle she made in her muddy, damp gown and tangled, wet hair, trailed by two guards who she suspected were grinning like fools behind her back.  After their passionate exchange she did not wish to give him any reason to revert to thinking of her as a troublesome child in need of constant looking after.  At the entrance to her tent she returned the soldier’s damp cloak to him and avoided meeting his amused expression as she once more expressed her gratitude for coming to her rescue.

Once inside, she immediately stripped out of her wet gown and set about drying herself the best she could.  It soon became apparent the only way she was going to get the mud out of her hair was to brave the icy stream.  Since she had no intention of making a return trip to the source of her embarrassment before the following day, she contented herself with washing the mud away from her skin and face with a cloth and the pitcher of fresh water Michel’s squire kept her supplied with. 

She hid in her tent for the remainder of the day, feeling ridiculous and not a little bit sorry for herself, which only contributed to her feelings of shame and stupidity when she remembered her uncle’s passing just hours earlier.  Pitiful tears stung her eyes and she sank to the ground in the middle of her tent with her arms wrapped around her legs, wishing more than ever for the company of another woman to share her complaints and her sorrow with.

She hadn’t moved from her place in the center of the tent when an hour later, Michel’s squire called out to her from outside the closed opening of the tent, seeking entrance.  She brushed the traces of self-pitying tears from her eyes, and swiftly gaining her feet, granted him permission to enter.

When he did so, it was with a wide smile on his face that puzzled her.  The prince’s squire had never been particularly friendly towards her and he had made it clear without being insolent he resented having to see to her needs and considered the duty beneath him.  His smile widening at her confusion, he stepped aside from the entrance. Holding the cloth back he motioned for the two men trailing him to enter.

Elena gasped with stunned pleasure at the sight of the copper tub the men carried between them and then burst into astonished sobs at the trail of soldiers following their comrades, each carrying a bucket of steaming water to fill the tub with.  She was too overcome to properly thank them for their consideration.  Where in the world had the tub come from?  Surely an army did not travel with such conveniences. 

“With Prince Michel’s compliments,” the young squire informed her with a gallant bow, then seeing she was beyond a reasonable response, turned to follow the grinning soldiers from the tent with a wide smile curving his own lips.

Elena was too delighted with the prospect of a real bath to regret too much the realization that Michel must have witnessed her humiliation after all.  As she stripped out of her clothes for a second time in the middle of the day, she decided a little embarrassment was not too high a price to pay for the precious gift she’d been given.  She let out a little moan of pleasure when she stepped into the steaming water and then dipped her head beneath it to scrub her hair free of the dried mud from the stream and luxuriated in the warm water until it grew as cold as the surrounding air.