Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me (6 page)

His fingers curled around her chin and lifted her face. “What is it?” His expression held concern and gentleness.

Her gaze fell to his full, sculpted lips. “Would you please...kiss me?”

He jerked back, obviously surprised. “Well.” His gaze dropped to her lips before darting back to her eyes. “I’m not...I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Please?” She had nothing to lose. On the morrow, he’d be far from Amberley, never to be seen again. They stood in a sheltered spot. What harm could there be?

He moved closer, his blue gaze heating, creating an answering warmth in her. He bent his head toward hers, his intense focus stealing all her thoughts except one.

Kiss me.

Had she said it aloud or only thought it?

It mattered not because he pressed his lips to hers. Gone was the tentative touch of the previous night. He cupped her face with his hands, tilting her to better fit against him. His lips parted, and her head spun at the additional sensations that flooded her.

Aye
! This was what she’d been looking for. Longing for. His tongue danced with hers. Heat churned within her. Wanting only to be closer, she reached up and ran her hands across those broad shoulders where muscles shifted beneath her fingers. She tangled her fingers in his soft hair, surprised at its smooth texture.

His mouth left hers, and she moaned in protest, not ready for this pleasure to end, but then his lips followed her jaw line, nuzzled her neck, his tongue swirling her ear lobe. Her knees buckled at the feeling, warmth pooling low in her belly.

How could she feel
so
much?

His mouth returned to hers, and their tongues danced for a second time as his hands molded her body to his. He ran them down the length of her, pausing on her hips then her waist, before moving higher until he hesitated at the swell of her breasts. Her body tensed in anticipation.

As though he read her mind and her body, his thumbs raised and caressed the tips before his hands engulfed her breasts. The strength of him thrilled her even as fear speared through her.

It was all so much.

Too much, these feelings that coursed through her.

She wrenched back, stepping out of his arms, and away from his touch. “My goodness – I mean – thank you. That was quite – interesting.” Smoothing her skirts, she took another step back.

Unable to form a complete thought, she did the only thing she could think to do. Flee.

But her good manners forced her to bid him farewell first. “Good day, my lord. Thanks again.”

By all that was holy, she’d gotten far more than she’d asked for.

So much more than a simple kiss.

Chapter Six

Nicholas watched her go, though he longed to draw her back. The sway of her hips taunted him as she disappeared amid the cottages in the bailey.

Interesting?
His heart still thundered in his chest, he ached with need, and she’d thought that kiss
interesting
? He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, hoping to remove the feel of her soft mouth.

Why had she asked him to kiss her? Was she a woman of loose morals rather than the innocent maiden he’d thought? Did she collect kisses the way some women collected ribbons?

For the first time in a long while, a woman made him want something more than the solitary future he had planned, made him reconsider the risk. He wished he were Lord Trisbane, a normal man simply passing through who stumbled upon this beauty tucked away in this keep.

Then he imagined her face when she discovered his secret – gone was her warm smile and her penchant for his kisses. In their place were distrust and fear, expressions he’d seen on so many other faces over the years.

Marriage was not for him. Not only could he not trust others, he would not risk cursing a child with second sight. To know that another person suffered as he did, and he could’ve prevented it – nay. He would never let that come to pass.

Elizabeth was not for him. Why could he not remember that when they were together?

Nothing could come of their mutual attraction. He’d told her the truth last eve. He had no intention of marrying, and she was a lady who had every right to expect a betrothal from a lord with whom she shared kisses.

With a shake of his head, he returned his focus to his true purpose here.

William.

He’d now touched the lady several times and no vision had been forthcoming. He hoped that meant she had nothing to do with William. Since she hadn’t provided him with any answers, he needed to seek out Lord Crefton. He had to resolve this as quickly as possible and get back to William.

He tried to gather his thoughts, to form a plan of some sort as he returned to the keep. If Crefton was still unavailable, that left the dungeon. Perhaps he could find answers there.

“I like the sound of that,” a familiar male voice said, interrupting Nicholas’s thoughts as he passed a cottage. A feminine giggle drifted out its narrow window, followed by the man’s chuckle.

“Come here, you saucy wench, and I’ll show you what for.”

Stephen! Could the man not keep on his chausses? Nicholas should have guessed how the soldier might spend the afternoon if given the chance. No matter that he’d had a similar notion in mind himself a few moments ago.

Annoyed, Nicholas pushed open the door and stood in the entrance. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but soon he spotted Stephen on the narrow bed in the corner of the room, the bed linens covering his arse. He could only assume the “saucy wench” was beneath him.

“Stephen!”

Stephen’s grunts and movements stopped. He looked back over his shoulder. Then he hung his head. “I beg a moment, if you please, my lord.”

“Now, Stephen.” A dark satisfaction filled him at interrupting the man’s pleasure. It seemed only fair that Nicholas was not the only one frustrated this day.

“Aye, my lord.” With a murmur to the woman, Stephen rolled off of her and stood, keeping the bed linen before him. He offered Nicholas a sheepish smile. “Sorry, my lord. I got a bit distracted.”

Nicholas didn’t bother to respond. He turned and stepped outside to wait.

“I’m terribly sorry, Lord de Bremont,” Stephen said as he joined Nicholas, still tucking his tunic into his chausses.

“Quiet!” Nicholas glanced around quickly to make sure no one had heard Stephen’s blunder. “Lord Trisbane, remember?”

“Oh, right. My apologies,” Stephen whispered back, his face red with embarrassment.

“Have you been here this entire time?” Nicholas asked, incredulous at the man’s lack of focus.

“Nay, nay. I searched everywhere for Lord Crefton this morning and had no luck. Sir Kenneth glowered at anyone who spoke to me while I watched the men train, so I learned nothing there. The only other thing I could think to do was see if any of the servants had loose tongues.”

“And?” Nicholas asked.

“The one I just left has a very loose tongue,” he said with a grin and a waggle of his brows. He sobered quickly when Nicholas didn’t share his amusement. “She told me Crefton often remains in his chamber on the second floor at the back of the keep. She said the death of his son has been a terrible blow to him.”

Nicholas pushed aside the sympathy he felt and started walking, gesturing for Stephen to follow. “He’s got to leave his chamber sooner or later. You need to be vigilant. The sooner I meet him, the sooner we can leave.”

“Of course.” Stephen sighed as he combed through his hair with his fingers. “It’s just that pretty wench who served us last night has been wiggling her hips at me since we arrived. When she offered more this afternoon, I couldn’t resist.” He smiled again but grew serious when Nicholas glared at him.

Aye
, Nicholas thought. Women offering ‘more’ were certainly hard to resist and a common occurrence at this holding.

Well, he might not be able to meet Lord Crefton yet, but the dungeon certainly could not hide. “Brom is near to starving, so use your charms on another servant to get him some food. And remember to watch for Crefton. I’m going to find the steward and see what more I can ascertain. Stay away from the women, Stephen. We’ve no time for frivolity.”

“Aye, my lord.” Stephen nodded, his eyes downcast. He turned and hurried toward the keep.

Nicholas’s luck seemed to improve for he caught sight of the steward walking across the bailey. “Robert, a word if you please.”

“Of course, Lord Trisbane. How may I be of service?”

“I wonder if I might look at your dungeon.”

Robert looked perplexed at his request. “The dungeon, my lord?”

Nicholas grasped for a valid excuse. “I’m making some changes at my holding, and I’d like to see how the dungeon here at Amberley is constructed.”

“I see.” He tapped a finger against his chin, seeming to ponder the matter before answering. “I’d be pleased to escort you there.”

As they made their way inside the keep, Robert asked, “How is your man feeling, my lord?”

“His stomach is still unsettled. It seems to worsen when he stands.”

“I’ll ask the cook if he has any suggestions. With no healer in our village, he’s come to be of assistance with lesser ailments.”

Nicholas nearly grimaced. Would the cook come up with some oddity for Brom to eat? He sincerely hoped not, or he’d have to find a reward for Brom’s sacrifice. “We’d appreciate that.”

Robert passed through the kitchen, and though several servants chopped and stirred, the cook was absent. “We’ll look for him later. Shall we proceed to the dungeon?”

“Aye,” Nicholas agreed.

The stairs were steep and narrow. Robert’s torch did little to ease the gloom. Cold seeped into Nicholas’s bones, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of the temperature in the depths under the keep or if it was a sign. “Have you used it much of late?”

“It stands empty at the moment, my lord.” Robert’s voice echoed in the stone stairwell.

At the bottom of the stairs were two small rooms with stout doors barred by thick planks of wood. A narrow area with a small bench and table stood on the opposite side, obviously for the guards’ use.

Robert moved aside, holding his torch high, and let Nicholas survey their surroundings. “Is it much different from your own, my lord?”

“Hmm,” Nicholas answered noncommittally. He nearly cursed in frustration. The area was dark and foreboding, but he couldn’t discern if anything matched his vision or not. “Might I see the inside of one of the cells?”

If Robert thought his request odd, he didn’t say. He stepped forward to lift a plank from across the door of a cell, and opened it.

Nicholas entered the dungeon and looked at the sparse, narrow room. He could’ve touched the opposite wall without stretching, the cell was so cramped. Visions of William, writhing in pain as he lay on a pallet on the dirt floor burst through his mind. Nicholas’s head pounded as the flashing images overcame him. He braced a hand against the cold, stone wall as his mind spun.

His doubt fell away in an instant.

William had been here – had lain in this dark, damp place in pain. Alone. Frightened. Angry.

Nicholas fought to regain his equilibrium, focusing on the rough wall beneath his hand. The gray rock was stained rust in places where water had leaked in. A frigid dampness permeated the cell, and he could not imagine a more miserable place to lay injured and helpless. William must have been beside himself with fear, worried that he’d die here with no one the wiser.

Where had his second sight been when his brother had needed him the most? Guilt cascaded through him like the torrent of a waterfall, stealing his breath. He hung his head in despair as he realized what he’d done. He’d suppressed the visions with all his power.

It was
his
fault that William had been forced to endure such suffering at Crefton’s hands. Nicholas’s own selfish desire to escape his second sight had prevented him from reaching William sooner. If his brother died, the blame lay with Nicholas.

Robert spoke, but his voice sounded distant, as though he stood at the end of a long tunnel. Anger filled Nicholas, and he spun to face Robert.

The steward stepped back, his expression held alarm. “Lord Trisbane? Are you well?”

“Nay. I am not well. And I am not Lord Trisbane,” Nicholas said through clenched teeth.

Robert’s eyes grew wide. “My lord? I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I,” Nicholas replied. “I am Lord Nicholas de Bremont.” He waited for Robert’s reaction, which was quick in coming.

The horrified look on Robert’s face confirmed everything Nicholas feared. He drew his knife from his belt to make certain his intentions were clear. “Take me to Lord Crefton. Now.”

Robert’s gaze locked onto the blade that shone dully in the low light. “Lord de Bremont, please I beg of you. There are circumstances of which you are unaware – ”

Rage coursed through Nicholas. “Circumstances? Do not speak to me of circumstances!” He held the blade before Robert’s nose. “If you care at all for your lord, then take me to him now, else I’ll kill you and find him myself.”

*

Elizabeth heaved a sigh, unable to lose herself in the intricate pattern of the tapestry on the loom before her. She’d retreated to the solar to calm her thoughts with the work she loved best: weaving.

The detailed color scheme left little room for error and normally kept her mind off her worries as she worked the shuttle. Realizing she’d just made another mistake, she sat back in her chair.

Lady Margaret looked up from the thread she carded with a smooth rhythm. “Is something amiss?”

Elizabeth bit her tongue, sorely tempted to blurt out the events of the afternoon to her aunt. Why did she hesitate? She shared most everything with the older woman. Perhaps it was because she didn’t think she could explain it without being appalled at her own behavior.

What could she possibly say?
Don’t mind me. I merely asked Lord Trisbane to kiss me. Again. You see, I felt a bit cheated the first time we kissed. However, I got far more than I bargained for with my request.

Dear heavens! Nay, no coherent explanation existed for the afternoon’s events. “All is well.”

As she thought on it further, she realized that despite her embarrassment, she was glad she’d asked Lord Trisbane to kiss her.

Perhaps it was unfair of her to judge on such short acquaintance, but he seemed perfect. His patience and kindness toward the children, his concern for her last eve, his compliments to her at supper. And that amazing kiss. Aye, perfect in every way.

Yet he couldn’t have been more out of reach if he were on the moon.

Her responsibilities tied her here. With her brother gone, she had to continue to take care of her father and their holding as best she could. She sighed as the truth sunk into her. He was not for her. She was not free. Her family and Amberley were her first priority. She couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes on that front.

Margaret’s eyes narrowed as she studied Elizabeth. “Did you discuss the colors of thread we need with Edith?”

“We were interrupted. I’ll visit her again on the morrow.” Elizabeth nearly squirmed in her seat under her aunt’s scrutiny.

Margaret’s hands halted, her expression puzzled. “Interrupted? By whom?”

Elizabeth stood abruptly. “I want to check on Father before the evening meal and remind him to remain in his chambers tonight.”

“But, Elizabeth – ”

“I’ll see you in the hall.” She pasted a smile on her lips and, with a wave, left the solar. She closed the door and leaned against it. What on earth was wrong with her?

All day long, her emotions had shifted from despair at the idea of Lord Trisbane leaving to giddiness at the attraction that simmered between them. As she thought of those long-lashed, blue eyes looking down at her, heating her with their intensity, the giddiness returned. She shook her head. He’d be leaving on the morrow, never to cross her path again.