The Heart of the Phoenix (9 page)

With a grunt of impatience, Stephen reached out again. “This is no time to behave like a foolish female. Give me the damned reins so we can move.”

Foolish female, was she? Well, she would prove her riding abilities. Evie touched her heels to the mare’s flanks. Before the words were out of his mouth, she was off, urging her horse in the direction the others rode. This kind of gallop was what she needed to clear away the ill-humor plaguing her. What would a few raindrops matter when she’d reach safety soon?

Above the clatter of hooves and the clash of thunder, she heard Stephen curse. Evie faced into the wind and smiled.

Stephen assessed the site as he galloped up and leaped to the ground. “Good,” he muttered, signaling to the others.

The shelter William located was a dilapidated small manor, once fortified, now rubble. A dark hole gaped in the center of the curtain wall where the wooden gate had burned. Rock from the wall had fallen or been knocked out in places, although it remained intact toward the back of the enclosure.

“See what you can find,” he ordered, but for the most part his men needed no directions. They moved with precision as a result of their years together.

Below the remains of two large living chambers lay three rubble-filled storages areas, including one relatively clear space the guards soon made ready for the horses. Afterward, two of the men moved to clear a second, smaller one.

A splash of color inside caught his eye. Evie. What in the fires of hell was she doing? She’d be in the way of the men and likely to get hurt. His anger burgeoned when she darted toward the third and smallest section.

It lay directly beneath the entrance to the first floor and appeared to be filled with debris. From the darkened appearance of the stone surrounding the yawning hole, the wooden stairs had burned, along with the door. Any wooden outbuildings apparently had met the same fate.

She paused, gazed up at the vacant, lonely dwelling, and shook her head. Her lower lip slipped between her teeth in the way he’d come to recognize. His anger ebbed and an unwilling softness washed over him. It was obvious she thought of the former occupants. So like the girl he remembered.

But he had no time for reflection. Stephen ducked into the large storage chamber to find the pack horses and mounts secured. The men had done a good job settling the restless animals.

“We won’t post guards,” he called to Macsen. “Make sure the men are accounted for.” He paused at his friend’s side. “What makes you smile so?”

Macsen nodded. “You, my brother. You never seem happier than in an emergency.”

What foolishness. Stephen flexed his shoulders and strode toward the second chamber, assessing the activity with a quick, encompassing glance. “William,” he called, “take my horse. I’ll see to the lady.” His head snapped around. “Where’s Davy?”

Rising gusts whipped dirt and twigs across the open ground. Above the wail of the wind, he heard a screech. Holy hell. Were they under attack? He spun on his heel to locate the sound. Of course. The maid. It only wanted her foolishness. And there stood Evie, attempting to quiet her. The silly maid should be assisting her mistress, not the opposite. The girl dropped to the ground in a heap.

“Lord, deliver me from the idiocy of women.” He tromped their way.

****

Evie knelt beside Marie, who had collapsed in the face of the oncoming storm. The maid’s words garbled in a shrill whine. Storms, that must be it.

“There’s nothing to fear.” Evie maintained a calm, reassuring manner. “See? We have shelter.” She took the maid’s hands, but Marie jerked away with another burst of tears.

Evie sat back on her heels, at a loss for what to do next. The sound of boots hitting the earth could be heard above the wind. Of course. It had to be Stephen, come to demand she keep Marie quiet. She wanted to. But nothing seemed to penetrate the poor girl’s terror.

He loomed before them. “Why is she weeping now?”

Marie’s wails increased.

“You frighten the poor child,” Evie said.

The wind plucked the answer from his lips, but she thought he said, “Someone needs to put the fear of God in her.”

“Ah, Marie, you mustn’t fret.” Davy raced across the pocked earth to the maid’s side. “Come. ’Twon’t nothin’ hurt you here.” The young squire dropped to a knee and put an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll stay right aside me.” He stopped and glanced up, his face scrunched. “If the commander don’t mind.”

Stephen scowled. “An excellent idea. Take her into the refuge with the others.”

Evie knew she ought to object, but Davy comforted the girl when no one else could. She dragged away a strand of hair that whipped across her face. “Yes, Marie. Go with Davy. I’ll be along in a moment.”

Stephen rounded to face her. “What are you doing out here?”

Just like a man to ask such a silly question. “I’ve been trying to help. One of the men took my horse, so I thought—”

“You don’t think; that’s the trouble,” Stephen shot back. “Get into that chamber where you’ll be safe.”

Biting back a few pointed words, she strode toward the large storage opening where most of the men and horses had taken shelter. A jagged streak of lightning cracked nearly to earth not far away, and a breath later, thunder shook the ground.

A burst of wind swirled her skirts, wrapping them around her ankles. She stumbled. A large hand grabbed her upper arm to steady her. “This way,” Stephen directed.

Another blast sent dirt whirling up, and she swiped at her eyes. The particles felt like small rocks. She tried to stop, to clear them away, but he wouldn’t allow it. He all but dragged her until she felt like her niece’s stuffed doll.

“Stop,” she called. “I can’t see.” Not that that would mean a thing to the cursed man. She really didn’t like the hard, unsympathetic person Stephen had become.

Evie wrenched her arm free and rubbed both eyes. A snarl reached her a breath before she felt herself swung into the air and slammed against a boulder-hard chest.

“Hold still. We must take cover before we’re drenched.” The words murmured low into her ear sent shivers down her spine. Another streak of lightning connected with the ground just outside the broken wall.

The closeness of that last strike sent more of the horses into a frenzy. Their stomping and neighing added to the din of the next thunder clap. Stephen halted outside the entrance to the large area where the men struggled to calm the animals.

Suddenly, a small pack horse squealed, tore loose its lead rope held by one of the guards, and dashed into the churning dust of the bailey. Evie twisted in Stephen’s arms to watch the little mare run. Before the next thought, another bolt of lightning crashed, striking the horse. Uttering a high squeal of pain, the animal flopped onto the bare earth.

Evie hadn’t quite realized what happened before Stephen dived into the second, smaller chamber and spilled her onto the ground. His body covered hers. As if that lightning strike had been the signal, a mighty crack of thunder brought the downpour.

“Are you all right?” Stephen asked as he rose. His hands cupped her head, smoothed across her cheeks, down her neck.

Evie nodded. She really wasn’t certain, because she felt nothing but the drumming of her heart.

“See about the others,” she answered, pushing at him. “Someone may be hurt.”

He dashed into the pounding rain, turning immediately to the left. She heard murmurs but no exclamations that might signal pain. The horses had miraculously calmed, although the sound of their stomping continued.

She eased against the wall and straightened her legs. The deluge sent sprays of moisture onto her left side, but she couldn’t summon the energy to move farther back into the enclosure. Her mind numbed, as if it refused to acknowledge events of the past few minutes. Everything had happened so quickly, time seemed suspended.

A few blinks reminded Evie that her eyes still stung from the wind blast earlier. She peeled off her gloves and pressed a forefinger to the corner of each eye. Some relief, at least. Sighing, she closed them. The sound of rain had always soothed her, but in the future, every rumble of thunder, each flash of lightning was sure to bring back memories of this day.

The poor little mare. But the accident could have been much worse. What if everyone hadn’t gotten to safety? What if one of the guards or monks lay out there? What if Stephen did?

It was just like the determined, dictatorial man to be the last inside. Always making sure the men were safe, the animals accounted for, even the “foolish females” secure. And there she had been, arguing with him as usual, keeping him in danger.

What if he had tarried just two steps? Both of them might be lying motionless in the dirt.

Her heartbeat skipped; her breath stuttered, caught. No need for fear. The danger was over. It had been a danger she’d never considered. Evie stuffed a fist to her mouth. She would not think of it.

But the image of Stephen lying unmoving on the ground wouldn’t leave her mind. Stubborn man. How had he ever submitted to another man’s authority long enough to achieve knighthood? How had he ever managed to accumulate such a dauntless troop of men?

He made her so—angry!

At that moment, he rounded the wall of their shelter. “Everyone is fine,” he said as he dropped to her side. “Davy’s even managed to stop your silly maid’s whining. We’ll wait out the storm, then see what must be done.”

How could he speak of mere facts, act so reasonably, as if they had halted only for a brief rest? Didn’t he realize that he could be dead? That they both could be?

Evie jerked the fist from her mouth and slammed it into his shoulder. She couldn’t seem to stop hitting him. And weeping. She never cried. That made her sob harder.

Stephen grabbed her wrist and turned to face her. His other hand brushed away the tears. He muttered something, then jerked her into his arms.

The touch of his mouth on hers shocked her into stillness. But the anger, the fear welled up, and she clung to his shoulders. The odor of wet wool and warm man swirled through her senses as her fingers brushed the rough wrinkles of his surcoat. She swept her hands to his wet hair and smoothed it back. He lifted his head, his lips briefly leaving hers. “Don’t be frightened.”

His rough, low voice tingled across her skin. Another Evie seemed to answer when she said, “I’m not afraid. Not with you. Never with you.”

He nipped her earlobe, and a new kind of tingle shot through her body. The warm slide of his tongue along her jaw, down her throat, set up a desperate throb at her core. She wriggled closer. He wore no mail chausses; the muscles of his legs flexed on hers. One hand pressed into the small of her back, urging her forward.

She followed the tantalizing pressure closer, closer until she felt his leg between hers. That ragged moan must have come from her throat. The caress increased. She stilled.

His touch moved from her back to her hip, then trailed down. Reaching her knee, he tugged her leg over his and thrust. Through their layers of clothing, she felt the firm outline of his body. She rocked against him, searching for relief from the building ache.

A sudden cold sensation on her flesh made her gasp. His fingers. He traced along the inside of her leg, wide circles edging higher, until her whole concentration focused on that light friction. When the sensation ceased, she uttered a small sound of distress. Then he stroked there, where she throbbed, but he’d moved his hand on top of her gown.

He rubbed gently against her mound. Not the right spot. She tilted her hips. As if following her unspoken direction, his fingers drifted lower.
Yes.
Her breath caught. His movements mirrored her desire, as if her mind directed them.

The contact deepened, and her hips undulated, matching the rhythm he set. He slid his hand up to the precise point her sensations centered. She gasped, stilled.

And then her world exploded, more powerfully than any thunder. Brilliant white light jagged behind her eyelids, followed by a burst of sparks, more blinding than a lightning flash. For a moment, she lost track of time, of reason.

Cocooned in a haze of peace, Evie rested within the warm circle of Stephen’s arm. Even the hard links of his chain mail felt good, comforting. A thought flashed through her mind: How could he pretend indifference now? She burrowed closer.

What would it be like to lie with him completely? To feel him inside her body, filling the still-aching emptiness. She made a contented
umm
and flattened her hand against his chest.

And stilled. She would never experience that ultimate completion with Stephen. The final knowing would come at the hands of her husband, whomever that might be.

The realization wiped away all remnants of warmth and pleasure. She was betrothed.

Chill wrapped her heart. How could she have forgotten?

A husband.

Not Stephen.

His muscles firmed, as if he heard her thoughts.

“The rain has stopped.” His words rasped into the quiet. “I must check on the others.”

Without another word, he rolled to his feet and disappeared.

A new, pervasive cold gripped Evie. He hadn’t acknowledged what happened. No words of comfort. No words of scolding or even blame. Just—nothing. As if it all meant nothing.

Perhaps it hadn’t. He’d likely known dozens of women.

Fighting a wave of nausea, she curled into a ball, knees pulled to chest. He’d warned her. Told her to stay away. But the wonder of what happened, his tenderness, showed he cared.

Didn’t it?

Burning embarrassment drove out the cold. She’d allowed herself to be carried away, to forget responsibility to her family, to the man she would eventually wed. Panic fired her blood.

The betrothal wasn’t official, so she’d not been unfaithful. Not actually. Nothing irretrievable happened, and she refused to feel guilt. This interlude would claim a corner of memory forever, but she’d eradicate Stephen from her life—permanently, this time.

Until then, she’d take a cue from him. If their moments of closeness meant so little that he’d escape at the first opportunity, who was she to feel differently? She came to her knees to straighten her clothing, brush away the dirt. Calm a still-pounding heart. Blot the tears.