Читать книгу Falcon's Honor - Denise Lynn, Denise Lynn - Страница 12

Gareth stretched his suddenly tight neck. King Stephen had given him a task to complete in a short period of time. He needed to keep his mind on his responsibility and not senseless thoughts that would only get him into more trouble.

And dallying with ladies brought nothing but trouble. His brother, Darius, was proof of that. It was best to dally with whores—at least their fathers would not bring the wrath of God upon you, or your family.

Rhian looked up at him. “Now I have shocked you with plain speaking. Should I care what others think?” She waited for a response. Her piercing blue gaze steadily, silently demanding an answer and sending his thoughts into a worse muddle.

Finally, he answered, “It would take much more than words to shock me.” Gareth diverted his attention to the brazier. But the small fire pot only reminded him of how heated his blood raced while he held her.

He looked out the arrow slit at the stars. The twinkling lights made him wistful, longing for the days when his actions were not watched and analyzed, when his words were not scrutinized by those seeking to besmirch him or his family.

“Nay, Rhian, your words do not shock me. However, this lack of concern for your reputation does.”

Her brittle laughter was muffled against his chest. “I find your concern…touching. And unwarranted.”

“As long as you are under my charge, my concern is warranted.”

“Then release me from your charge.” When he didn’t respond immediately, she stared up at him again.

Gareth sighed before leaving his stargazing behind and returned her stare. “Nay, milady, that I cannot do.”

She stepped away from him and faced out the window. He came behind her and rested his hands on either side of the narrow opening, effectively trapping her with his body.

They were so close, the heat of her anger threatened to burn through his armor to his chest. When she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, he fought the urge to back away from what would surely be an argument she would not win.

“Faucon, if you possess a drop of mercy, let me go. Do not do this.”

“Nay. I fear we are fated to spend a few more days in each other’s company.”

She tipped her head to one side. Her half-braided hair gently swung in the same direction. The pale, smooth skin of her neck provided a stark contrast to the blackness of her hair.

It also provided a welcome distraction from this conversation. Gareth lightly stroked the curve of her neck with his thumb before resting his hand on her shoulder. The tightening of her muscles did not make the flesh beneath his thumb any less smooth, any less inviting to his touch.

A shiver visibly rippled down her neck before she jerked away from his touch. “Stop that.”

Fascinated by her skin’s response, Gareth ignored her order and stroked her neck again. His effort was rewarded when again a tiny tremor vibrated beneath his touch.

“Are you certain I should stop?”

Rhian shook her head before clearing her throat and answering, “No.”

He dipped his head and brushed her neck with his mouth. She trembled against his lips.

Rhian closed her eyes. This was insane. They were arguing about his mission, about releasing her. Yet when he stroked her neck with his tongue the arguing fell to the wayside. She tilted her head to the side, offering him more of what he sought.

The notion that a simple touch of his lips to her neck could cause this flare of desire to rush through her body was unthinkable. It was unimaginable. It was… She leaned against his chest… It was as real as the stars in the sky.

He held her close, his fingers splayed across her stomach, the tip of his thumb resting beneath her breast. When the floor seemed to shift beneath her feet, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair.

The bulge against the small of her back let her know that desire coursed through his blood, too. He trailed his lips up her neck, pausing only to whisper in her ear, “Kiss me, Rhian.”

His last kiss had left her confused and breathless. Would it be as heady this time? She turned in his arms and stared into his shimmering, half-closed eyes for a few heartbeats, before pulling his head down.

He held her tightly, her breasts nearly crushed against the hardness of the armor protecting his chest. The uncomfortable embrace was soon forgotten as his coaxing mouth captured her full attention.

His lips sought a response from hers and she answered willingly. A flash of realization captured her mind and her heart as his tongue slid against her own.

His arms around her, the feel of his lips on hers, was right. Almost as if it was meant to be this way. Soon she would be delivered to a family who’d ignored her existence for a lifetime, then to a man she did not know. A stranger the family who’d abandoned her had chosen.

Her heart ached for a return to the life she’d shared with her father. Years filled with someone who loved and accepted her as she was. Years when she did not have to make decisions that went against everything she’d been taught, everything she believed.

As if sensing her mind’s distance, Gareth growled softly, bringing her thoughts back to him, to them. To what she might be able to have for the few days remaining to her.

His gentle touch let her know that he would not harm her. He would do nothing that she did not want. Rhian clung tighter to him. What did she want him to do?

She wanted him to cherish her, to hold her, to take her to heights she’d only heard about from gossiping servants. She wanted him to ruin her for any other. She wanted him to release her. She moved against the bulge in his groin and swallowed his moan.

Gareth broke their kiss, pulling her head against his chest with a shaking hand. “Rhian, we must stop this.”

She took hope in the fact that he did not release her. She could feel the rapid, strong beating of his heart beneath the armor digging into her cheek.

Rhian knew that her success or failure would be determined by her next few sentences. After summoning all of her courage, she leaned her head back and captured his overbright gaze. “Faucon, let me escape. None need know.”

He closed his eyes tightly as if in pain and shook his head. “I cannot. I must fulfill my orders.” When he opened his eyes, he looked down at her with a small smile curving his lips. “My future depends on this mission.”

It was now or never. She had to decide her course of action in a heartbeat.

Rhian slid a hand up his chest, reached up and traced his half smile with a fingertip. “I will make you a deal, Faucon.”

He grasped her finger gently between his teeth and teased it with his tongue before stating, “I am near afraid to ask what this deal might be.”

She swallowed, seeking the courage to continue with her lie, before finally finding the words. “I will not try to run away again if you will…” She sucked in a quick breath. “If you will take me.”

A frown marred his forehead. “Take you?” Realization widened his eyes. “You cannot mean—”

“Yes, I do. Take me with your body, Faucon.” She glanced away, then back before continuing, “Teach me the ways of lovers.”

His heavy groan gave her hope. “Do you know what you ask?”

“I would not ask if I did not know.”

“But you are to be—”

She cut off his words by placing her finger over his lips. “Married. Yes, I know that. I will be married to a man I do not know. A man whose kiss I may not like. A man my unknown family has chosen.” She traced his suddenly tight lips with her fingertip. “Do I not deserve to enjoy being kissed? Do I not deserve a few nights of shared passion?”

Rhian knew she was rambling, but she hoped her lengthy plea would keep him from detecting her true motivation—escape from her fate. “Do I not deserve to hold a memory to my heart? Something to remember when the nights get cold and the days are too long?”

She was unable to read his stare. He did not appear shocked. But neither did he appear to be thrilled with her offer.

Rhian stepped away from him and looked at the floor. “I am—”

The sound of men coming down the hall leading to her chamber cut off her apology.

Gareth gritted his teeth at their approach. With an effort he didn’t realize he possessed, he brought his wildly thudding heart under control before his captain entered the room with two other men.

“Milord, we will have this door fixed in but a few moments.” At Gareth’s silence, Edgar prompted, “Milord? You do want us to fix the door, yes?”

Gareth waved for the men to continue. “Yes.”

He wondered if his voice sounded as hoarse to his captain as it did to him.

While the men worked on the door, Edgar offered, “I will relieve you, so you can go below and eat.”

Gareth cleared his throat. “Perhaps later.”

He wanted to kick himself. He knew his clipped responses would make his man aware something was not quite right.

Rhian turned back to the window, leaning her forehead against the wall.

Finally in control of his racing desire, Gareth faced his captain and motioned the man to join him outside of the chamber.

“Have all of Browan’s men been accounted for?”

“Aye, milord. Three dead, six with minor injuries and one who was worse off. They found him crawling out of one of the storage sheds. He is hurt, but will recover.”

“Good. Were they able to provide any further information?”

Edgar shook his head. “No. But nobody has truly questioned them in detail. Would you like me to bring them to you for interrogating?”

“No.” That was the last thing Gareth wanted at the moment. “Let them rest and I will talk to them on the morrow.”

“Aye, sir.” Edgar peered around Gareth. “They are almost done with the door. Are you certain you do not wish me to relieve you?”

It was all Gareth could do to hold back his laugh. “I am fine, Edgar. See that the others get some food and a place to sleep for the night.”

Edgar frowned before saying, “You need sleep more than the rest of us. I can—”

“No.”

The captain stepped back from Gareth’s near shout. “No need to tear my head off, milord.” He peered at his lord from beneath bushy eyebrows for a moment before a smile crossed his face. “Oh, I see. You have plans for the evening.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I plan to spend the night guarding my charge.”

Edgar’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. After blinking a few times, he frowned, then asked, “Alone? In her chamber? Milord, do you think—”

Gareth cut his man off with a raised hand. “I try not to think of anything other than the successful completion of my mission for the King.” To reassure Edgar, he added, “I will sleep on the floor, by the door, not in her bed.”

Edgar waggled his eyebrows. “Excellent idea, milord. I will see to the men. Then I will return to guard the door from any who would seek to disturb you…or the lady.”

Gareth bit the inside of his cheek to keep from responding to his captain’s obvious opinion. The less said, the better. “That is fine, Edgar. I will see you on the morn.”

After Edgar went below stairs, Gareth waited until the men were done with the door before reentering the chamber. He closed the door behind him and dropped the locking bar into place.

Rhian hadn’t moved. Her slumped shoulders spoke volumes to him. He imagined that she was embarrassed, perhaps now even regretted her boldness.

What fanciful ideas had she been concocting with her brazen offer? There was little doubt that the lady was up to something. Most likely she was seeking yet another way to escape her fate.

She’d admitted to being a virgin, but she seemed more seductress than virgin. So her outrageous offer seemed even more absurd. Was she truly that desperate to ruin her future? Or had she lied?

Did it matter to him? Shamefully, he had to admit that no, at this moment it did not matter in the least. Her offer appealed to him more than he could explain.

On one hand the mere idea felt right. As if it was meant to be. On the other hand, he was intrigued by her attempted manipulation and wanted to see how far she’d go. Would she complete the act? Would he? This was not a way to regain honor. It was more like another test to see if he truly had any honor left.

He leaned against the door. “Rhian.”

She turned around, but kept her face averted.

“Rhian, I would like nothing more than to give you a night of passion. But not if you have changed your mind.”

She took a step toward him, stopped and looked at him. “This will remain between us? You will tell no one?”

He started across the floor toward her. His steps slow and steady, unlike his racing heart. “I do not run to all with tales.”

“You will not think less of me?”

“I thought that others’ opinions did not matter.”

She frowned. “In this, yours does matter.”

He stopped an arm’s length in front of her, praying his tongue would find the right words. “You offer me what no other woman has ever even hinted at. How could I think less of you?”

“Will you think less of me in the day’s light?”

Gareth shrugged. “I do not think so, but I do not know for certain.”

Rhian rolled her eyes. “Well, do you think any less of any woman you have…that you’ve…” She stopped, obviously unable to find a word for the act.

While it would be amusing to see what word she eventually conjured, Gareth saved her the search. He reached out and ran a finger down her arm before lacing his fingers through hers. “I would not know, Rhian. Whores are not generally still around by the day’s light.”

With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer until she rested against his chest. “If you have changed your mind, I will go now.”

She shook her head. “Nay. You touch me and I want more. I do not wish for you to leave.”

“And when you speak so, I have no wish to leave.” He tipped her chin up with the side of his thumb. He searched her eyes, looking for any sign of wavering, any uncertainty and found none in her seemingly guileless stare.

She was willing to risk much in this bid for a night of passion. He still did not believe for one heartbeat that she would carry this through to the end.

Gareth briefly touched his lips to hers, before releasing her. “Since neither of us wish for any others to know what we are about,” he said while pulling his tunic off over his head, then unbuckling his sword belt. “You will have to help me out of this armor.”

Rhian laughed softly before stepping back to tug at the laces holding the mail sleeves and his hauberk together. “I have played squire before.”

Her fingers shook as she worked the bindings. It was all she could do to not tear at them, to quickly divest him of his clothing and fall together to the mattress.

Anything to get this over with before she lost all nerve. What had she been thinking?

A few hours ago, the mere suggestion of lying with a man seemed insulting and degrading. Only a cheap whore would permit herself to be used so.

What was she? By offering herself, hopefully in exchange for her freedom, was she any better than those who offered their bodies in exchange for coin?

Since she was the one who would do the using, Rhian felt lower than a whore. What was the penance for such wanton, deceitful behavior? At the moment, she didn’t know. But she doubted if it’d be anything pleasant. In the recesses of her mind, she wondered how long she’d burn in hell.

Finally, the bindings came loose and she slid the long sleeves off his arms. “Bend over.” When he followed her bidding, she tugged at the armor until it finally slid over his shoulders and head. Too heavy and cumbersome for her to handle, she let it fall to the floor with a thud.

He quickly released the bindings of the mailed chausses protecting his legs and tossed them atop the growing pile of armor.

While he stood upright, Faucon peeled his quilted hacketon and sweaty woolen shirt off with one fluid swipe and tossed both on the growing pile. Relieved of the added weight of armor, he stretched and rolled his shoulders.

Clad only in braies and boots, he worked his muscles. Rhian sucked in a sharp breath. Muscles rippled across his chest, bulged and relaxed in his arms and corded in his neck. She had assumed the armor and the clothing added bulk to his size. She’d assumed wrong.

By the heavens he was larger than she thought. How in the name of God had he gotten that big? Surely he’d not been born twice the size of a normal babe. His mother would have died in childbirth.

Rhian’s mouth went dry as she knelt to unlace his boots. He ran his fingers through her hair. She jumped at his touch and came eye level with… By all the saints she could not do this.

But she had no choice. Her numb mind could think of no other way to defy the fate planned for her. She bit her lower lip before returning to the task at hand, but her hands fumbled with the laces. The sudden ineptitude brought tears of frustration to her eyes. Fine whore she would make.

Faucon bent over and stayed her useless fingers. “Rhian, let me.” He released her, sat down on a bench and removed his boots.

She stood, frozen in place, unable to think, or to move. Rhian felt his attention sweep over her before she hesitantly met his gaze.

He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head before beckoning her with his forefinger. “Come here.”

Somehow, as if in a strange dream, she found her feet taking her toward him. Slowly, like a condemned person walking toward her own death.

Faucon pulled her down on his lap, held her against his chest and stroked her back.

Several moments of silence passed before Rhian released a huge breath and relaxed against him.

He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. “We do not have to continue. If you want to cry hold, we can stop now.”

Cry hold? Rhian frowned. Did she want to stop? Would that not be admitting fear? Admitting defeat? Since when did she let fear of a thing stop her? But would it not be a wiser move?

This indecision would drive her mad.

She turned to look up at him. “Just tell me if I need be afraid.”

“I thought I was a devil you did not fear.”

Rhian groaned. She had declared that, hadn’t she? “Perhaps I was a little hasty. Should I fear the devil I know?”

“I cannot force myself to believe you would have ever considered so bold a move if you truly feared me.”

Heat filled her cheeks. Rhian admitted, “’Tis not exactly you that I fear.”

Faucon’s soft chuckle raced warm across her heart. “Your imagination is far-reaching. It is not as if I will impale and kill you.”

At the absurd vision his words created in her mind Rhian had no choice but to laugh.

Faucon tipped his head to one side, shot her a boyish-looking half smile before asking, “Would it upset you to know that I have not the vast experience you seem to believe I possess?”

Rhian sighed. Then pulled up the skirts of her gown and turned around on his lap. With her legs astride his, she placed her hands against his chest.

“Disappointed?” His deep voice rumbled up from his chest.

Rhian smiled up at him. “Disappointed?” She shook her head. “Nay, Milord Faucon. I am relieved.”