wcEND.rtf (13 page)

Her gaze scanned the room. There were few places a chalice could be hidde
n
—
n
o crevices or nooks on the walls, no bookcases or closets, no safes or locked boxes. Her gaze fell on the wooden chests. She'd already gone through Détra
'
s garment chest earlier, but maybe Hunter's would be more revealing.

No such luck. Besides his personal clothing there was nothing else in Hunter's garment chest.

She moved on to other areas, including under the bed, behind the tapestries on the wall, even inside the fireplace. The chalice wasn't anywhere in this room.

Isabel wasn't exactly disappointed; she didn't really expect to find the chalice in the room, but she was frustrated nonetheless.

Her feet were cold and so was her body as the fire began to die again in the fireplace. She'd forgotten how time-consuming it was to keep a real fire alive, accustomed as she was to gas fireplaces and heaters. She threw in all the rest of the wood she could find, stirred the embers, and then rushed to bed. There was nothing else to do but wait for morning to resume her search.

******************

DAWN HAD JUST BROKEN
I
NTO THE DARKNESS OF
TH
E night and weak rays of light
f
iltered through the thin slits of the shuttered window when Hunter found his way into his bedchamber. A fire burned low in the hearth and the oil lamps on the wall were lit.

He stoked the fire and extinguished the oil lamps before stretching sluggishly, working the kinks out of his aching shoulders after a nonstop ride for half of the day and most of the night.

Having stopped at his private chamber at the garrison's quarters and divested himself of his hauberk and accouterments of war before coming to his bedchamber, Hunter quietly removed the rest of his garments. Hoping to steal some rest before the castle fully awoke and his duties demanded his presence, Hunter opened the bed curtains of his marital bed.

His wife lay on her side, taking up most of the bed, one knee drawn up, the other straight, one hand buried
underneath the pillow while the other rested close to her face. There was something about he
r
—
a
n abandonment, an ease never before see
n
—
t
hat disconcerted Hunter. She was the perfect image of a beautiful angel in a peaceful slumber.

So contrary to the Détra he knew.

That lady had always lain straight as an arrow and tense as a bowstring on the very edge of the bed, with as much distance between her and Hunter as she could possibly muster.

Mayhap the sleeping draught had temporarily freed Détra from her cares; or mayhap she expected not his return this night.

The latter was probably truer.

Whatever her expectations, however, Hunter was back and he was tired, and he would not turn around and return to his hard cot in his private chamber. He lifted the covers to bury himself underneath them and his breath whooshed out of him. Hunter sank down into the mattress. Sleep and exhaustion fled immediately.

His lady wife slept in the nude!

It took Hunter a moment to gather his surprise. Even though probably everybody in the Christendom slept unclothed, Détra had never done so before. In fact, he had never even seen her body without some kind of garment hiding it from his complete view.

Now he was certain Détra had not expected his return.

A mix of displeasure and longing filled his heart while undiluted lust filled his loins. He fought the desire flaring in him. He had promised her a week's respite, and he would give her that much, even if it killed him.

Hunter concentrated on the thought of her coming to him willingly after that time, as she had promised him, as he longed it to be, and as she had already done at the orchard.

Resisting the urge to pul
l
her into his arms, he lay there, unstrung and unfulfilled, watching her steady breathing until he fell into a restless sleep.

******************

WARM
TH
BECKONED ISABEL. SHE STIRRED AND SOUGHT the heat with her body. It was so close she could feel it. All she had to do was seek it and she'd have it. She scooted back until she backed up against a wal
l
—
a
fiery, smooth, hard wall. Her eyes shot open. And she dared move no more.

This time awareness swiftly hit her in full. In a blinking moment she knew exactly where she was and who was sharing the bed wit
h
her. Light filtered through the closed curtains of the bed and distant voices outside announced the morning was already on its way. And yet here she was in bed with a man whose leveled breathing revealed he still slept, but whose warm, tight body was very much awake.

She'd fretted about the nights with Hunter, but morning had revealed itself to be a much more immediate threat.

Hunter stirred and his arms encircled Isabel, pulling her closer into his warm embrace. No doubt caught in the throes of some erotic dream, he cupped her breast with his hand, catching her stiffening nipple between his fingers. With a soft groan he nestled his hardness against the cleft of her naked buttocks and Isabel's treacherous body immediately began to respond.

Oh, why hadn't she put some clothes on before going back to bed? Isabel froze in place while the stirrings of desire wreaked havoc with her insides.

Hunter's breathing quickened and his warm breath fanned the back of her neck.
Oh no, not her neck! Not her weak spot!

Having withstood as much as she could, and barely
suppressing a moan, Isabel leaped to her feet, carrying the covers with her.

A surprised Hunter jerked up in bed then
,
seeing her, jumped out of bed to stand naked before her with unabashed male confidence. Isabel clung to the coverlet like a lifeline.

Good God! But Hunter was a fine man!

"What the devil is the matter?" he asked.

She swallowed hard, then averted her gaze to his face. "Your snoring disturbed my sleep," she lied.

He cocked his head as he stared at her in disbelief. "I do not snore." His gaze lowered to that part of him that still stood sentinel and added, "But I do recall a very vivid dream." He gave her a purely rakish gaze.

He was a dream!

Isabel backed away from him, from the sight of him, before she forgot herself.
"
We sleep no more."

She pivoted, ready to run, but he closed the gap between them in one big step and swirled her around to face him.

"The reality of having you in my arms should surpass any dream." He gave her
that
half smile. Did Hunter ever fully smile?

Conflicting emotions warred inside of Isabel. She knew she should back out now before his next move
.
Knew she should remind him of their agreement and stop what was bound to happen if he touched her. Knew that it'd be wrong for her to assume the role of his lover.

But even knowing that Isabel didn't move.

Her heart stammered in her chest when his fingers skimmed her naked shoulders. Her brea
t
h came in shallow gasps when his callused palms enclosed her neck and his thumbs rested underneath her chin, lifting her face to him. Her body trembled when her gaze fell on his mouth, on his parted, eager lip
s
—
i
nviting lips
.

Oh, she knew she was playing with fire, but for the life of her she couldn't stop. She couldn't step back. Hunter was going to kiss her, and there was no force in this world that could stop them.

With uncharacteristic fatalism Isabel watched his mouth descend upon hers. And when their lips touched, she opened hers to his warm, hungry kiss, and she tasted his desire mingling with hers. Pushing guilt aside, Isabel surrendered to the kiss, her fingers threading his soft, silky hair.

His mouth slanted over hers, deepening the contact, his tongue playing with hers, delving, withdrawing, teasing. Isabel caught it and suckled it, tasting him, feeding his hunger and her own.

With a groan Hunter s
l
id one hand behind her neck, fingers entwined in her hair, the other hand encircled her waist, bringing her closer, tighter into his embrace.

Oh, but the man knew how to kiss! Knew how far to go, how deep, how hard. And when his mouth descended to her neck, she let her head fall back and savored his touch, reveling in his unabashed desire for her, his wanting of her.

It had been so
l
ong since she felt this way with a man. And maybe she'd never really felt this way with a man before.

As his breath came in gasps, his touch became more urgent and his kisses more demanding. And Isabel was ready to respond in kind.

"Oh Détra,
"
he whispered against her ears. "Your beauty consumes me."

Hunter's words abruptly snapped Isabel out of the enchantment his touch had woven about her. And though her body still thrummed with desire, her mind once again grounded in reality. This man was not her husband, his desire was not for her, and his
l
ove was not hers to enjoy.

Guilt returned with a vengeance. She'd already wreaked enough havoc in Hunter's and Détra
'
s lives with her misguided wish. She might even be doing more harm than good by rejecting him, but she knew that if she made love to Hunter she'd never be the same person again.

Isabel stiffened against Hunter. Her body straightened as her hands pushed against him.

It took him a moment to understand her change of heart, and a moment longer to accept it, then he let go of her. His arms fell alongside his powerful and beauti
f
ul body, but he didn't step away. She hated confrontations but braced herself for his explosive reaction. Silence greeted her. Isabel lifted her gaze to Hunter but instead of the expected anger she found his blank stare.

And that hurt the most. She wou
l
d've preferred angry shouts to this painful silence.

A knock on the door saved Isabel from offering babbling explanations she didn't want to give and Hunter most certainly wouldn't like to hear.

"Come in," Isabel said.

"Go away," Hunter bellowed at the same time. Then with a humph he spun around and marched to the door, naked as he was.

"No!" Isabel raced after him, gathering her cover as she ran, and placed herself between the door and Hunter. She kept her gaze firmly on his dark eyes. "You cannot open the door naked like that."

"A moment ago you thought naught of it."

A moment ago she wasn’t
thinking.

There was a long pause, then he shouted, "Who is it?"

"Maude, my lord."

Hunter took a deep breath, exhaled loudly, then marched to his clothing trunk. Glad he hadn't given her a piece of his mind, Isabel accompanied his progress with undisguised interest. His shoulders were of an impossible
breadth, his back straight and erect, and the muscles on his tight buns flexed as he moved.

Fine man, indeed!

A man who belonged to another woman. A fact Isabel ought to engrave in her mind.

She waited until Hunter was decently clad before she opened the door to Maude.

"Good morning, my
l
ady, my lord," Maude greeted as she entered the room, carrying several pieces of wood, which she dropped by the fireplace. She promptly revived the dying fire, then ambled to the bed, opening the curtains and tying them with a ribbon. She fluffed the pillows, straightened the sheets, and men folded a blanket that had fallen to the floor.

Meanwhile, still holding the soft coverlet to her body, Isabel moved closer to the warmth of the fireplace while Hunter finished getting dressed.

The rustling of Maude's skirts as she moved about the room and the crackling of the wood in the fire were the only sounds in the room. With a quick glance to Isabel, then Hunter, Maude moved to the table and began preparing a drink.

Moments later she offered the cup to Isabel. "Your morning drink, my lady."

"Thank you," Isabel said, unconsciously taking the cup and sipping the warm and soothing drink before she realized she hadn't even questioned what was in it. Tasting chamomile lessened her apprehension, though she couldn't be sure that was all that made up the concoction. It was eerily similar to her habitual morning tea, though she was aware tea as she knew it wasn't known in medieval England.