With Her Kiss (Swords of Passion) (7 page)

She sniffed, wrapping the sheet about her torso.

He sauntered towards her, his pale eyes shining in pleasure. “I am pleased to see you up and walking about.”

He greeted her as congenially as if they were man and wife and this another ordinary day. He walked towards her, his imperious body haloed by sunlight as if he were an angel. No hand of God, this man. He was a giant, all tough sinew, honed by decades of warfare, wielding swords and battleaxes.

Seeing her food untouched, he caught her chin between two fingers and turned her face this way and that. “Why have you not eaten?”

She jerked from his grasp. “I had not yet had the chance. Besides, there is the menacing view of that tub.” She tipped her head towards the object. “I do wonder if you will ever permit me to wash alone.”

He grinned, the fiend, his gaze raw with lust. “I do not stop you. Avail yourself of the pleasure now while the water is warm.”

She frowned at him. “An honourable lord would not offer such.”

He cast her a sideways glance. “I am honourable. And I am, at this juncture of your life, your lord. And I do offer. I enjoy the sight of you, naked and within my reach.”

“Oh, that I had a hairbrush within reach to throw at you.”

“Testy this morning, are we?” Pursing his lips, he strode towards the table and poured wine from the pitcher into the two cups.

“I wish no wine.”

“You need it. You have lost a stone or more and I do not yet like the colour of your skin.”

She lifted one hand to her cheek. “I need a mirror.”

“Alas, my failure to supply a lady with the most vital tool to her vanity.”

“What’s the matter with my skin?”

“You need roses there. But never fear. I will make them bloom again.” His implication came with a wink.

Her cheeks flamed. Damn the blush. “Huh. You have assaulted my person often enough.” She extended her hand to accept the cup. “The wine will be a welcome substitute.”

“If only you had the choice. But you don’t. Drink this.”

“I suppose you will not leave until I do as you ask.”

“You suppose correctly, my lady.”

She sipped and turned away.

But she heard his footfalls, spurs jangling, heading back towards the door. “You are leaving?”

“Relieved, aren’t you?”

“Aye.”
No.
Truth was he was her only company, and, prickly as he was, she wanted his conversation. And indeed, she eyed the tub and thought of the excitement, the thrills of delight that travelled her flesh when he surrounded her in that warmth.

“Good day then.”

“Wait!” She hated that she had called him back. “I want—”

He spun to her, one long auburn eyebrow arched. “What?”

Curse the man for his compliance and his charm. She searched her mind for a reasonable matter to inquire about. “Tell me, how came we here? Did you write to Lord Marshall?”

“I sent a courier, aye. As soon as I learnt of your imprisonment, I made a plan and knew I needed to withdraw to a stronghold that John would hesitate to attack. You do not remember, then, that I have told you all this?”

She hated to admit it. “And you have his permission to stay here?”

“For now. Until you are recovered. You know that Marshall and his wife and children are in Leinster? That he remains in John’s disfavour?”

“Leinster. Ireland.” She frowned, her memory obviously faulty. Not Dublin. “Forgive me. My wits are still scattered.”

He threaded his fingers through her short dark curls and smiled. “I wait upon your recovery, sweetheart.”

His honeyed words flooded her with gratitude for what he had done for her. “This support for me costs you greatly. And William Marshall’s hospitality for us will only make more trouble for him.”

Geoffrey’s gaze swept her form, his look more of despair than desire. “I had to take you to the safest place I could find. From Bristol, once we crossed the waters, this was minutes’ ride. I know the steward and the bailiff here. We grew up together. Earl Marshall fostered me before I was sent to your father’s retinue. I have sent him word. As yet, I have no reply, but I have no fear that he will toss us to the wind.”

“Aye, Marshall has never been known to desert his friends. But John may yet strike out and come for me here, no matter that this is Marshall’s stronghold.”

“No one can predict what John will do. But for the moment, we are secure. Your only duty is to recover your vigour.”

She clutched the sheet to her throat. “Do the servants know who I am?”

“They know of you only as my lady love.” His gaze danced, heating with the declaration. “I have had no interest in disabusing them of the notion.”

The endearment tugged at her heart. Still she feared John’s violence more than Geoffrey’s honeyed seduction. “Surely word has gone forth from the place where you abducted me—”

“Saved you,” he corrected her.

“Aye, saved me.” She stepped towards him, the sheet stretched to its limit. “I am grateful, Geoffrey. Truly I am. But am I worth losing all your lands and wealth? Your good name?”

“I have thought of this answer for more than twenty years. You see by my actions my conclusion.”

“I was a young girl when I loved you.”

“And I only a few years older. What of it?”

“You cannot say you acted now on that memory alone.”

“No, I do not.”

“Well then. What other?”

“I have my reasons, that of our mutual passion the strongest of my motives. Memories are glorious, often embellished to serve one’s reputation. But the desire I had for you and the one I bear you now combine into a grown man’s need to restore my person in your sight. I deserted you twenty years ago. You suffered many slights because of it. You had to marry because of what I did. I knew you could hate me and it set me mad with anguish. Before I die, I wish to re-establish myself in your eyes and see you whole.”

“You have,” she whispered, undone by his sweet words. “What you have done here for me is no small service. And if I put forth that I hated you, I was wrong to do so.”

“I thank you for that, but you had your reasons.”

“I did. They were not equal to this gargantuan task of taking me from John’s edict.”

“I say it is. And I am not yet finished. I must see that you live and live well. That your lands are restored to you.”

“Oh, Geoffrey. You are a baron only, not equal to the King. Do not throw your life away for me.”

“I will do as I promised myself I would, Kat. Twenty years ago, I had no money, no title, no land and I was bound to fulfil my obligations to my liege lords. I have done that. Hundreds of times over. So when I learnt you were put to a dungeon by an irrational ruler, I knew my time had come to restore my reputation not only in your eyes but also in my own.”

She stepped against him, her sheet slipping to the floor unheeded. “John will try to kill us both for that.”

Geoffrey nodded. “John can be bested. I have seen it happen.”

“You have a plan to thwart him?” Awed that he might, she discounted that any plan against the King might work.

Geoff stared at her. “I do.”

Shivers of horror travelled her spine. “What is it?”

“I will tell you when the day dawns that we execute it.”

She knew then by the set of his jaw and the dedication in his eyes that she would agree to do anything for him because he had paid the ultimate price to save her own life. Something told her she would live to tell the tale. But what of him? Would he? Could she save him so that both of them might live together?

Somehow she doubted it all.

He inched closer, enfolding her in his embrace. At the touch of his hands, she melted against him. Her cheek to his chest, he sighed. “Let me love you, Kat. We have moments given us. I wish to seize them.”

She stepped backwards, a smile curving her lips. “Come bathe with me.”

His mouth turned up in joy and lechery. “And shall I remove my two black opals?”

“Not until you have fucked me well and hard, my lord.”

“Saucy wench.” He wound his fingers in her own as she led him towards the tub.

“For now, aye. I wish to have all you will give me. Your body. Your cock.”

He shoved his hand into her hair and urged her to tilt her head up for his ravening kiss. “You are my witch, beguiling me for decades.”

“And you are my warlock, enthralling me with sinful delights.”

He ran an open palm down her breasts and thumbed her nipples so that her cunt flowed rich with hot cream. “I would know each part of you so well I recount you in my dreams.”

“Come join me then and give me this.” She rubbed her finger over the head of his cock, thick pearls of cum beading there for her.

“Until I can no longer.”

She grinned, turned her back on him and rubbed her ass cheeks against his shaft. “Then you must give me that other present you promised.”

“I will, by God.” He panted as he probed her seam with his rod.

“You will remember me,” she vowed, thrilled at his devotion as he plunged into her.

“My darling, I never forgot.”

* * * *

The next morning, she ate and bathed and waited for him to come to her.

Their lovemaking yesterday had never included his other gift, whatever it was. And he had taken from her the two black gems that so delighted her when he and she fucked. Enraptured by him, she was now eager as a child to have her newest present from him.

But by midday, she was still alone. Wondering what could be keeping him from her, she finally gave in when good health demanded that she walk the wall. Grabbing up a rough cape and slippers that one of the serfs had left for her yesterday, Kat climbed the circular stairs to the top of the keep. Of this castle, she had fond memories. She wished to refresh them. As a child, she had run and played with children her own age. They had played hide-and-seek in the old fortress built more than a hundred years before.

Chepstow was one of the largest fortifications along the Welsh borders. Bigger than her home in Harleigh, this old castle bore fortifications that few others did. Years ago, Marshall had redesigned his towers. She gazed at the tops of them now, recalling that they were round, without any blind corners, and thus they were impregnable. Looking at the southwest tower, which faced the river, she squinted into the sun and saw that Marshall had built a three-tiered platform for his archers to rain arrows down on his enemies. This, plus the double gatehouse’s iron-strapped doors, a huge portcullis and drawbridge offered extra assurance that unwelcome guests would remain outside. Still, if any feigned friendship, then attacked, the numerous murder holes that dotted the upper floors ensured that they would die as Marshall’s men poured hot oil or boiling water over their bodies. And if all defences failed and still the castle fell to invaders, then there was one more element to the castle that those inside could use to escape. The door.

The door!
She clamped her eyes shut.
Where was that door where we walked from darkness into light?
She ran a hand through her hair, straining to recall her childhood games and the door to freedom.

The winds whipped her long hair around her head, the cool air clearing her brain. She blinked into the sunlight, staring into her past. But what she saw below in the grassy plain wrenched her heart.

Men assembled. Horses, too. Trebuchets, tents, wagons. Scores! Nay, hundreds, by her count.
My God. They gather for war.

Squinting into the distance, she detected banners of noble houses. Two looked very familiar, as if they were those of her neighbours. Still the colours were too far away. She could not identify the honours upon them.

Clutching the cloak to her chest, she sped towards the stairs and down to the main hall.

At the bottom, the rush left her panting and bracing the wall for support.

“Madam?” One of the male serfs advanced on her, concerned in his furrowed brow. “You are not well. I will help you to the bench.”

“Aye. Thank you. And Lord St Claire? Get him for me.”

“I will.” And he was off.

Minutes later, Geoff appeared in the entrance to the hall. A tall young man behind him hovered in the shadows. Though she saw him only for a moment, he seemed familiar. Tall and broad-shouldered. But like a ghost, he dissolved backward to the hall.

Geoff was kneeling before her. “You came down here on your own? Are you well enough to do that?”

She gave a small laugh. “I needed air. I went up to the wall walk. Geoffrey, who are they out there?”

He put a finger to her lips. “A discussion for our chamber.” He stood, sweeping her up in his arms and heading for the stairs.

“You need not carry me, Geoff.”

He sent her a quelling glance but continued up the stairs. “Be sweet, will you?” He kicked wide her solar door, shouldered his way in and set her to her bed. “You must rest. You need it. I will return with wine and food.”

“Nay.” She clutched his tunic and waylaid him. “I saw the men who gather there out on the plains. Who are they?”