Where Love Has Gone (33 page)

His shoulders were strongly muscled, but he
was not as bulky as most of the men-at-arms who daily practiced
with weapons in the courtyard at Warden’s Manor and who routinely
stripped when the weather was warm.

Looking at Desmond’s shoulders in fascinated
admiration, Elaine acknowledged the taut, smooth – and deadly –
strength of him. The perfection of his upper body was marred only
by a scar on his left shoulder, another along his left side, and
several small scars on his arms. She knew most fighting men bore
similar reminders of battle. Scars were considered badges of
honor.

Desmond’s chest was broad, although, like his
shoulders it was not bulky with muscle. Instead, he gave the
appearance of catlike grace and strength, of power controlled by
intelligence, rather than by unthinking brute force. Soft, golden
brown hair furred his chest and his lower arms, not nearly as dark
or heavy as the body hair of other, coarser, men. Desmond was made
of finer stuff than a mere man-at-arms. His skin glowed with the
tan developed after hours in the sun. And his grey-green eyes were
intense when she lifted her gaze to his.

“If you feel faint,” he said, “I can clean
and bandage my own arm. I’ve done it often enough in the past.”

“No.” She recovered her wits by sheer
strength of will. “I don’t sicken at the sight of blood. I was only
wondering if I ought to sew up the gash.”

“Just wrap it tightly.” He pulled a roll of
linen from his saddlebag, along with the jar containing the
ointment she had used on Jean and Ewan. He smiled at her look of
surprise. “I try to be prepared. If you smear some of this over the
cut, it will heal soon enough.”

“Yes, I think you are right.” She couldn’t
help herself; she needed to touch him, so she planted the tips of
her ten fingers on his beautiful body and pushed gently. “Sit down,
please.”

Desmond obediently sat on the bed. Taking the
basin from the table, Elaine used it to scoop water from one of the
buckets. With the towel that was already damp and some of the soap
she began to clean the wound and the area around it. Doing so
necessarily brought her close to Desmond. He steadied his arm by
laying it across his thigh while he let her do as she wanted with
him.

Elaine wasn’t a complete innocent. No one who
lived in the close confines of a manor house could remain ignorant
of what men and women did together, and she recognized the physical
signs of desire in a man. To her knowledge, no man had ever
displayed any sign of wanting her. Until Desmond.

She knew he was watching her face as she
worked, so she tried to conceal how aware she was of his manly
discomfort. Keeping her gaze strictly on his wound, refusing to
glance toward the source of the growing heat that emanated from
him, she wrapped his arm, tearing off the bandage, splitting the
end of the linen with practiced competence, and tying the bandage
securely.

“Thank you.”

At his whispered words she looked up,
directly into his eyes. The warmth she saw there nearly brought her
to her knees. He lifted his right hand to brush back a loose strand
of her hair and tuck it behind her ear. Elaine licked her dry lips
and saw how he watched the quick movement of her tongue. She wasn’t
sure what he would do next, whether he would kiss her, or reject
her.

The arrival of the innkeeper put an end to
her overheated musings.

“Sir, I have your dinner tray,” the innkeeper
called from outside the chamber door.

“Just a moment.” Desmond glanced at the
bloody water in the basin. “Dump that,” he ordered in the curt
low-pitched tone Elaine had grown used to hearing at moments of
possible danger.

While Desmond wrapped his cloak around his
bare shoulders, holding it so the bandage on his arm didn’t show,
Elaine opened the window and tossed the water out, then set the
basin on the table and hid the pink-stained towel behind her
back.

Only then did Desmond open the door to admit
the innkeeper and one of the maidservants.

“Sorry to interrupt yer baths,” the innkeeper
said. “We’re busy in the common room below, so if I don’t feed ye
now, ye’ll have to wait until much later and I’m guessin’ ye’ll
want yer bed early. Travelers usually do. Now, I’m givin’ ye a fine
beef stew, a wedge of cheese, a loaf of bread, a pitcher of wine,
and a small tart made of dried apples and honey for yer sweet. Will
that be enough?”

“Oh, yes,” Elaine said, trying to sound
enthusiastic, though she wondered if she’d be able to eat a single
bite. When the innkeeper proudly lifted the cover of the large bowl
of stew to display the contents, she gulped and added, “It smells
wonderful.”

More coins changed hands, then Desmond bolted
the door behind their host and the maidservant, who went out after
casting an interested look at Desmond’s bare chest.

“Before we eat,” Desmond said, “take off your
dress and shift.”

“What?” She went cold at the unemotional way
he spoke.

“It’s either that, or cut off your sleeve to
get to your wound, and I think you’d prefer to enter Caen with your
arms covered.”

“You needn’t bother,” she began.

“You are as pale as the fair linen of any
altar cloth,” he said, smiling a little. “Of course, I need to
bother. You fought well in my behalf and you tended to my wound.
Now it’s my turn to clean up the cut on your shoulder and bandage
it. When I’ve finished, you may want to use some of that hot water
to wash away the dust and grime you’ve accumulated over the last
two days. It’s what I plan to do after you are clean.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. She had
been feeling a bit queasy from the strong smell of the beef stew,
but the unpleasant sensation quickly disappeared as she recalled
the warm tension between them while she worked on his wound.

“Now!” he commanded gruffly. “You don’t want
your wound to fester, or the water to cool. Take off your dress.
Wrap yourself in your cloak with just your shoulder uncovered. I’ll
turn around until you are ready. But be quick about it. I do not
care to eat cold stew.”

She struggled a bit with her dress, finally
applying the damp towel to it as she had done to tease the tunic
from his arm. Her shift was easier to remove. Too nervous to think
of what was right and proper, she tossed both garments onto the
bed, where they landed on top of Desmond’s sword and belt. Finally,
wearing only her shoes and stockings, with her cloak wrapped
tightly around her, she took Desmond’s former position on the side
of the bed and let him tend to her.

His touch was gentle as he washed her
shoulder and examined the gash.

“This is a deeper wound than mine,” he said.
“I’m glad I thought to include the ointment in my supplies. Lift
your arm so I can bandage it properly.”

By the time he was finished the herbs in the
ointment had soothed the last of the stinging pain of the cut. He
tied the strip of linen over her shoulder and under her armpit,
with a neat knot at the back of her shoulder.

“Now, use the water,” he said, looking
closely at her. “Your face is dirty and so are your hands.”

“I don’t think—”

“Do it. I’m tired and hungry and not amenable
to maidenly objections. Fair is fair: I will turn my back while you
wash, and then you may turn yours while I wash.”

She was also weary, though not at all hungry,
and the water, still hot when she dipped her fingers into one of
the buckets, was too tempting to resist. Elaine unfastened her
ribbon garters, pulled off her stockings, cast aside the cloak, and
stepped into the little tub the innkeeper’s boy had left. She
wished she could wash her hair, but there wasn’t enough water and
she didn’t think Desmond would allow her the time she’d need to do
a thorough job. Scooping some of the gelatinous soap from the bowl
with her fingers, she lathered herself as fast as she could, then
used the basin to pour water over herself to rinse away the suds.
The remaining dry towel was too small to be of much use.

“Here.” Desmond’s hand appeared at the corner
of her vision. He was holding a piece of coarse fabric. “Use
this.”

With a gasp of outrage Elaine whirled around,
to find him standing with his back turned and the bed sheet
dangling from his fingers.

“Thank you.” She seized the sheet and covered
herself with it. By the time she was finished, Desmond had lathered
his face with soap from the bowl. “I’ll turn my back, as you did,”
she offered.

The sounds of Desmond removing his boots and
hose and then splashing water around affected her as much as his
earlier closeness had done while she bandaged his arm. The thought
of him entirely unclothed left her shaking. She wished she’d had
sense enough to take her clean shift out of her saddlebag before
she washed, but the saddlebag sat under the window and she couldn’t
reach it without seeing Desmond. Which, she admitted to herself,
she wanted to do, but she didn’t dare look. He had behaved
honorably and hadn’t peeked at her while she bathed. She owed him
the same courtesy.

“Let us eat.”

He was wearing his cloak again, draped over
his shoulders and gathered close at his waist. His feet were bare,
but otherwise he was decently covered. Except, she knew he wasn’t
wearing anything at all under the cloak. But then, she was only
covered by the coarse sheet.

If Lady Irmina could see them, she would
faint and, the moment she was revived, she’d demand satisfaction
for the insult offered to her daughter’s virtue. The fact that
Desmond had kept Elaine safe during a dangerous journey would count
for nothing. Nor would the fact that, privately, Lady Irmina
herself was far from virtuous, or that she cared little for her
plain-faced older child. Only what showed on the surface mattered
to Lady Irmina. That aspect of her character was the source of much
dissension between mother and daughter.

Elaine sighed, thinking of the confrontation
that was sure to come when they met in Caen.

“You must eat.” Desmond gestured, and she
obeyed the implied command, sitting on the edge of the bed. He
pulled the table closer to her and, sitting down on the stool, he
began spooning the stew into the small bowls the innkeeper had
provided.

She hadn’t thought she could swallow a
mouthful, but suddenly she realized how hungry she was. She
finished the stew, ate the wedge of cheese Desmond cut for her, and
chewed on a piece of the crusty bread.

“The wine isn’t bad,” he said, filling a
wooden cup for her.

She sipped from the cup, then drank
deeply.

“It is good. Thank you for taking care of me.
I haven’t been thinking very clearly since this afternoon.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Your reaction was
natural.” His large hand covered hers on the table. When she met
his gaze, his warm smile slowly faded into a serious expression.
“We are going to have to share the bed. The floor is certain to be
hard, it’s none too clean, and I want a good rest tonight. We don’t
know what we’ll have to face tomorrow before we reach Caen.”

“I understand.” She could barely whisper the
words.

“Nor do I want to put on my dirty undershirt
now that I’m clean again. I intend to sleep as I am. Will that
offend you?”

“No, of course not. I – Do you want the
sheet?” Her voice cracked and she pretended to cough. It was so
hard to sound as if they were discussing the weather when she was
wondering if he still wanted her, or if the few moments of desire
she had noticed earlier had completely faded away with the
innkeeper’s interruption. His soft laugh startled her.

“I can sleep wrapped in my cloak,” he
said.

“Oh. Will you be comfortable that way?”

“No. Not while I’m lying next to you.”

“I’ll try not to disturb you.”

“Look at me, Elaine.”

She could not resist his commanding, yet
gentle voice. When she met his gaze she amended that thought to,
his tender voice, and his warm gaze. And his hands, sliding over
her forearms to link his fingers through hers. His mouth curved
into a slight smile that made her want to kiss him.

“I will never do anything you do not want,”
he said. “It’s only fair to warn you again that I have nothing to
offer any woman, no title, no land, only my few personal
belongings. And my heart, scarred and tarnished as it is.”

Elaine withdrew a hand from his warm grasp
and lifted it to touch his cheek.

“Do you truly desire me?” she asked, scarcely
daring to believe what he was saying.

“Since the first moment I saw you.”

“No one else ever has.”

“I cannot believe that. You are lovely and
intelligent, and remarkably sensible for a woman.”

“For a woman?” she exclaimed. “Is that an
insult?”

“Women are supposed to be silly and giddy,”
he said. “The ladies at the royal court certainly are. There’s not
a serious thought among them. The only other intelligent woman I’ve
ever met is my brother’s wife, and she stays away from court as
much as possible. Like her, you are also kind.”

“And desirable?” Her voice trembled.

“Very.”

“Desmond?”

“Yes?”

“I – I find you desirable, too.”

“You are driving me mad,” he whispered.

“I want you to hold me. Your chest is
beautiful. I want so much to feel your naked chest against
mine.”

“Woman, you would tempt a celibate saint to
forget his vows!”

Leaping up from the stool, he shoved the
table aside and caught her in his arms so forcefully that the sheet
she wore slipped down to her waist. In the next instant Elaine was
granted her wish when his chest pressed against her bare breasts.
The sensation of soft hair and warm skin on hers left her
breathless. Before she could tell him just how wonderful it was,
his mouth came down on hers with all the passion of a wild and
windblown summer storm.