Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) (14 page)

He began to stir, muttering something incoherent under his breath as he shifted position, and she turned away, face flushed, to look out the window.

The road was bounded by a forest of beech, willow and oak. Sunlight dappled the forest floor and a playful breeze lifted fresh spring leaves so they tumbled and swayed, their undersides exposed in a mosaic of light and dark. She climbed up on her knees and poked her head out the window the better to see. A gleaming band of silver light almost blinded her as the sun reflected off a distant river that appeared and disappeared through a curtain of trees.

As they approached it, the traffic grew thick with carts and people. Cattle and horses forded the river in a noisy churning of water, beasts and men, while a gathering of travelers and townsfolk stood gossiping on the bank, waiting their turn to be ferried across. It was wider and swifter than she’d expected, though not as broad as the Thames. Beyond the far bank she could see imposing stone buildings and eager as ever to see new things she leaned farther out, keen to take it all in.

Robert, who’d been awake the past half hour, watched her, completely bemused. Ladies of his acquaintance didn’t perch, elbows on windowsill, with their heads poking out and their bottoms in the air, their unbound hair gleaming in the sun. It was highly indecorous and utterly charming. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He liked her this way. Gone was the haughty courtesan, replaced by the unaffected maid who’d danced barefoot beneath the sky. He’d almost thought his imagination had conjured her in a haze of drumming and dancing, spirits and song. Yet here she was, back again.
She has a sense of wonder. What fool he was to let her go if this is who she is.

She was still barefoot, despite his gift, bought for an exorbitant sum from a saucy flaxen-haired barmaid who’d offered herself along with her shoes. He wondered if his…pretend wife, would care that he’d declined. Somehow he doubted it. Still, she
was
his wife by law. It would hardly be fitting to tumble a maid with his new bride sitting upstairs. Besides, she’d suffered more than enough humiliation in front of her rival for him to risk adding more.

As reward for his chivalrous behavior he’d decided to keep silent and enjoy the show. Bad-tempered and haughty she might be, but there was no denying she was a seductive minx. Just not in the way one expected. Mind…the sight of trim ankles and pretty toes peeping from silk petticoats was certainly arousing. She’d discarded her stockings before the dancing the other night and he had only to stretch his arm a little to claim her skin, sliding his hand beneath her skirts to caress her naked thighs.

Her couldn’t help but notice how her arched posture made her dress cling, accentuating every luscious curve. Her breasts thrust forward, straining in her bodice, bobbing as she turned and twisted, trying to see. It must be painful to be so tightly constricted.
I’ve but to move behind her and loosen her stays.
Then he might reach around to cup those succulent globes and tweak her nipples, before slipping his hands into her bodice and setting them free.

Christ! I’ve been too long without a woman. I should have taken the barmaid’s offer whilst I had the chance.
An aching erection strained against his breeches and his fingers itched to touch her. He bit back a groan, suffering in silence with no immediate way to relieve himself.
I could slide her skirt up the smooth skin of her haunches, exposing that pretty rounded behind.
His hands could almost feel her pert buttocks; soft, smooth, firm, demanding to be squeezed and fondled, positioned and— S
top!

He took a deep breath, fighting to master his body and his senses. His imaginings fueled a hunger that alarmed him. One that mustn’t be allowed. The situation was far too complicated. She wasn’t simply another man’s mistress. She was mistress to his king, to be called at His Majesty’s pleasure. It was clear she had no liking for him as a husband. She didn’t wish to hear his voice, let alone feel his touch. And he was not a man to share his woman. As long as he made no claim on her as such, their marriage was in name only. There was no true adultery, no true cuckolding, and no pandering of wife or honor where there was no true wife. She was a pretend wife. A royal charge. He was honor bound to see her safe and well cared for and to strive to be civil, and that was all.

Pleased at having reasoned an accommodation that left his honor intact, he returned his attention to the window.

She stretched, arching her neck and back like a contented cat before settling back on her elbows and shifting her knees to get comfortable again. Her bottom wiggled and bounced as she managed her contortions.

“God’s blood, that’s quite enough! Would you please sit down?”

Startled from her reverie Hope jumped, smacking the back of her head on the top of the window as she as she pulled herself back inside.

He winced in sympathy but made no move to help her, remembering her angry reaction the last two times he’d tried.

She sat primly, her hands folded in her lap, and gave him an angry accusatory stare. “Does this suit you better?” she snapped.

“Yes!” He sat up straight as well, his hat resting on his lap. “Thank you.”

As they waited their turn to be ferried across the river she stared straight ahead, all trace of the curious young lady gone. Robert felt a pang of guilt. Her excitement had been innocent and his interruption of it anything but. He’d passed this way so many times he didn’t pay attention anymore, but it was clearly a new experience for her. One she had seemed prepared to enjoy.

They crossed the river in an awkward silence. He hadn’t meant to ruin her pleasure but damned if he knew how to talk to the chit. He was skilled at war and killing, competent at managing his affairs and adept at satisfying a woman’s physical needs, or so he’d been told, but he was learning—to his chagrin—that he had little idea of what it took to keep one happy. Each time he tried he felt more inept, a feeling he didn’t like at all.

Still, a man didn’t shirk his duty, no matter how difficult. He cleared his throat….

“As I’m sure you know, this is the town of Nottingham, and the river we’ve just crossed is the Trent. You might not be aware that Nottingham is famous for its cheese and fine pale ales, which are considered the strongest, clearest, and best tasting in England. It is also renowned for the Goose Fair, which is several hundred years old and held here every fall. My…Cressly Manor, is but eight miles away. You may wish to come here for shopping on occasion. It has the largest marketplace in England and my housekeeper says it has the best shopping before London. They make fine lace and stockings, which of course you’ll be needing as you left yours….” His voice trailed off.

Hope stared at him as if he were a two-headed calf, astonished at the lengthy speech after more than a day of frosty silence. Her eyes glanced to his lap and back to his face.

“There is a castle as well,” he ventured.

He was clearly making an effort to be civil and she felt obliged to do the same. Besides, he had piqued her interest and despite her anger and mistrust she had never been one to cut off her nose to spite her face. Her voice was flat, but she made an effort to respond. “Nottingham Castle?”

“Yes,” he replied, encouraged. “One can climb the castle rock and see for twenty miles around.” He felt a stab of pain, remembering how he’d climbed the stairs to look from the turrets with Caroline and his parents as a child.

“Robin Hood’s Nottingham Castle?” Her voice was a little more animated.

“The one from the stories, yes. Unfortunately, the castle’s commander dismantled it rather than let it be used by the enemy during the war. I believe your friend Buckingham owns it now, and is making some repairs.”

“Can you see Sherwood Forest from there?” There was excitement in her voice now.

“Certainly some of it, though it is only a shadow of what it used to be. A good deal has been cut down for lumber for building and timber for the navy, and much has been cleared for new estates. Cressly has some trees that would have once been part of it and the king has deeded me a property that encompasses much more. I intend to preserve it as best I can.”

“Ah! So you married me to protect a forest.”

“In part. What better dowry for a lovely May queen?”

Her face brightened and she answered with a slight smile.

Perhaps he was getting better at managing a wife. He’d set out to improve her mood and so far it seemed to be working. She had to be taken care of, just like his servants, his tenants, his soldiers or his horse. A horse needed hay, water, oats and exercise. What did a wife need? If he applied himself to the problem he was sure he could puzzle it out. He realized he’d been at loose ends for some time now. A professional soldier without a war was an aimless thing. His first thought had been that Hope Mathews would be a burden.
Maybe she’s just the project I need
.

Encouraged by her response, he continued. “Are you hungry? Would you like to see the town? Perhaps we can find you stockings and better shoes.”

Despite her best efforts at cool nonchalance, a wide grin split her face. “I would love to climb the castle rock and see the forest, and then have a taste of your famous cheese and ale.”

Animosity behind them and the light of excitement back in Hope’s eyes they set out first for the mercers. Everything she owned had been left behind in the town house on Pall Mall. She needed stockings, shoes, petticoats and frocks, and at least a couple of comfortable gowns as well as a brush and a comb.

Nottingham was a well-planned bustling town with broad streets lined with substantial homes and buildings made from redbrick and stone. The market was just as Robert had claimed, commanding two very large streets with a pillared mile-long piazza for strolling along one side. She trotted along beside him, trying to keep up with his easy loping stride. They stopped to watch a man spinning glass and to her delight the fellow let her try it, heating a piece and flattening it out, then applying a second glass rod to the first one to pull and shape a delicate strand.

While gazing with longing at an array of exquisite glass birds and beasts, an oak frame mirror carved and painted with green leaves and acorns caught her eye. Hope picked it up to take a look and Robert spoke over her shoulder. “You look like a woodland fairy seeing her reflection in a forest pool. We’ll buy it. The man needs some recompense for his tutoring.” She glanced back at him through the mirror from beneath her lashes, clearly pleased.

They found everything she needed with little effort and within a couple of hours her purchases were safe in the coach and Hope and the stranger who was now her new husband were ensconced in the cellar of the Crown Inn drinking ale and eating cheese. The cheese
was
very good and the ale exceedingly clear. More importantly—it was fortifying and full-flavored.

Since their undeclared truce their conversation had been careful. The fine weather, local points of interest, the history of the town. Hope found that she was actually enjoying herself. It was thoughtful of him to take her shopping and she was thrilled with the mirror. He’d been very generous. He had already achieved what he wanted yet he seemed much nicer today than yesterday—though he didn’t need to be. It was most unexpected. A part of her was warming to him, while another, more wary, wondered what it was he sought to gain.

As if he could read her thoughts he pulled a lovely glass swan from his pocket and set it on the table before her.

She blinked, a little flustered, wondering what had come over him. She had needed a mirror, though not one so fine, but there was no doubt the swan was a present.
Be careful, woman. He’s far more dangerous bearing gifts than glowering and cursing
. She must do her best to remain cautious, but he was so handsome and she’d drank three pints of ale and it seemed so very hard.

“I…don’t know what to say. Thank you...Captain Nichols. But that really wasn’t necessary.”

He shrugged. “I know. You needn’t look so worried. I’m a man of my word and well aware of how things stand. You’ll have your own room again tonight and for as long as you like. But though we got off to a difficult start we
are
in fact married. Every woman should have a gift to mark her wedding.”

I love the sound of his voice. It’s warm and reassuring, yet seductive at the same time.
She tossed back her ale and then reached across the table, turning the swan so it caught the light. It was beautiful. With its long neck arched and its wings unfurled it looked like a living thing about to take flight. She was intensely aware of his fingertips, just inches away from hers. She felt them as surely as if he touched her.

She lifted her eyes and her gaze locked with his, drawn deep into shadowed green pools that glinted with intricate patterns of light and dark. There were fine lines etched on his face around his eyes. Laugh lines some might call them, but she didn’t think he laughed much. She imagined she saw loneliness and grief there, She wondered what terrible things he’d witnessed, and what wonders he had seen. She imagined they held promise…wanting…need. She wanted desperately to kiss him.

She cleared her throat and pushed back to sit upright, shocked by her reaction. “Thank you, Captain. It’s lovely. Shouldn’t you show me the castle soon? Before it gets too dark?”

“Yes, of course.” He drew back as well, whatever unspoken communication that had crackled between them cut as cleanly as if by a knife. “Don’t you think it strange, given the circumstances, to keep calling me Captain Nichols? You might try Robert, or husband.”

“Or sir?” She said it with a mischievous grin. “I’m not comfortable with husband.”
Nor with being a wife.
“But Robert might do.”

Good!” He stood, being careful not to hit his head on an overhead beam, and extended a hand to help her up.

~

It was a steep climb to what was left of the castle, perched on a promontory with cliffs over one hundred and thirty feet high known as the castle rock. The castle itself was a ruin, with only the gatehouse and part of an old bailey remaining along with the outer walls. The view was magnificent. Hope surveyed it all with a gardener’s eye and the curiosity and wonder of a tourist. The land was rich and fruitful, painted with great swathes of forest to the north and west, and lush meadows and farmland in the valley bordering the sinuous course of the silvery Trent.