A Knight's Vow Part 23

"It could be dangerous for you."

"Poof," Willa said. "I am just happy to see your face light like that."

"I will have to chose a husband soon." It was as much a reminder to herself as to Willa.

"All the more reason to have an adventure," Willa said.

Lynet knew that Willa had had a few amorous adventures herself, and she had always envied the maid

her freedom. She could marry the man she loved. She was not restrained by rank and family loyalty.

They discussed the details of tomorrow's switch, then Willa helped her dress. Her father, Willa said, had asked about her but he'd had a bad day with the gout and had been too miserable to worry about her.

Lynet went to her father's room. She had selected a gown that was her father's favorite and that drew a

smile from him. "You look very well, Daughter," he said. "Robert will be pleased." He hesitated, then added, "Have you considered his offer?"

"It would not be fair to the others," she said primly.

He sighed. "I will expect you to choose one," he said.

"I know."

"I do not feel well enough to go to supper," he said. "You go along and entertain them." He looked old and frightened. Her heart contracted. Though he was not a man who showed affection, he had taught her to read, had given her the means to take her own adventures through books. He had allowed her to ride, or at least had not forbade it. She owed him much. She leaned over and kissed him, seeing the pleased surprise in his eyes.

Then she left the room and steeled herself for the evening ahead.

Lynet tried to be pleasant at the evening meal. She smiled, asked pleasantly about the hunt and praised their skills when told they had killed some pheasant. Robert, Earl of Kellum, grumbled about lazy dogs that went crazy when they were tracking some animal.

She'd smiled her best smile. "The dogs are usually very good at finding their quarry," she said.

Robert frowned. "Could have been a poacher," he said. "There were a number of tracks but your huntmaster couldn't tell what was new and what was old."

Or mayhap chose not to, she thought. The huntsman was old, and he had been sorely tried these past few days by the guests, "I go there on occasion," she said. "They probably belonged to me. And I doubt whether it was a poacher," she said. "The poor know they can get food from Clenden. It was probably nothing but a cagey fox."

His expression cleared at the explanation. "Will you take a moment of air with me, my lady?"

She knew what he'd wanted. He wanted to know whether she favored his suit. She looked up at him, at the face that was far more handsome than her minstrel. But there was none of the character that was etched in the other's face, no crinkles around the eyes that spoke of having experienced more than wealth.

But she'd had no reason to refuse him. "Yes," she said.

They walked for several moments. She felt it hard to believe how ill at ease she was with her father's guests, and how completely, comfortable she had been with the wanderer. But then she'd always been ill at ease with her father's friends. They were loud and boisterous and talked of little but war.

"Your father said the decision is yours." he said, a note of disapproval creeping into his voice. "I am hoping you favor my suit."

"Why?" she asked, really wanting to know. "Why would you wish to wed me?"

"It would be a good alliance, my lady. For both of us. My family has a long history of siring sons. It does not have wealth. Your father needs an heir, and my estates need the marriage portion after years of war." He hesitated. "He also needs our friends.h.i.+p. Your father tried to be neutral but to the Tudor that means he is an enemy. Mine favored the Lancasters. He needs us."

A business and political arrangement. Nothing more. And an emphasis on sons. She knew what that meant, and her soul shriveled at the thought of bedding with Robert.

At least, he did not pretend. And yet it seemed so cold. Not one word of affection, not one fond look. She s.h.i.+vered. It would be the same with the other two, she knew. The reasons might vary some small bit, but the motive would be the same. The other two would marry her, too, whether they wished it or not. Their families' needs transcended the myth of love. She felt cold and empty, Robert leaned down and kissed her. It was a rough kiss, almost brutal with no hint of gentleness. "I will care for you, my lady," he said when he released her. "You will want for nothing." Except love. Except tenderness.

"I am aware of the honor you offer me," she said, her face stinging from the roughness of his skin. "But my father told the others he would give me a fortnight to choose. It would be unfair..."

"I can offer more than the other two," he said. "We have the Tudor's trust, and we breed boys."

As if she were a horse or cow. "I have made a promise to my father. I cannot break it," she said.

He smiled, and she realized that he considered that her consent. Pride, she thought, would not allow him to believe otherwise. "I will wait for your decision then, my lady," he said.

He turned and guided her back inside. He had apparently achieved what he wanted. At least he had demonstrated a readiness to wed her, she thought, which was more than the other two had done.

Why could she think of naught but russet hair and silver-blue eyes?

She turned to say good eve to him, but he was already headed for the wine. His mission apparently had been accomplished.

Tomorrow, she would see her musician for the last time. She would suggest that he leave Clenden because the company was leaving and the earl would not be in need of a minstrel. He would fare better farther north.

She did not think she could bear the possibility of Robin coming to Clenden. Would he be silent if he knew she had lied to him? Would he blurt out something unwise? She could well believe that her father or suitors might kill him if they thought he had trifled with her.

Lynet did not sleep that night. Instead she rose before dawn. Willa. who slept on a cot in an anteroom, woke with her. Lynet slipped into one of Willa's dresses, promising a new one in return. She did not want to meet the minstrel in a lad's clothes. But neither could she wear any of her own gowns. He would know immediately she was not what she had said she was, and she wanted no barrier between them.

Lynet had already told Selwyn to have Sadie, an older, very quiet mare saddled for Willa who was to see her mother. Willa would first, however, tell the cook that her mistress had the monthly vapors and did not wish to be disturbed. Willa would then exchange places with her and stay in Lynet's bed.

As soon as Willa completed that errand, Lynet took Willa's cloak and slipped out the door and down the quiet halls; only the servants in the kitchen were awake. The horse was saddled. Selwyn, no doubt, had gone back to bed. She led the animal to the mounting block. She saw Selwyn then, and knew he recognized her. She put a finger to her lips, and he nodded. He gave her a hand up, then slipped away.

In minutes she was free.

Would he be there? Part of her prayed he would be. Another more practical side knew she should hope he was not.

Duncan's horse neighed and arched its head. Duncan stood and went to the mouth of the cave. He had shaved in the cold water of the stream, but he felt unkempt. He also felt like a young untried boy meeting his first young love.

Then she rode up, this time on an older horse that moved slowly. Still, it looked fat and well kept.

He went over to her and offered her his hand. She was riding in a man's saddle, her cloak nearly covering her, but as she threw a leg over the horse, he saw a flash of leg as her gown pulled up.

He caught her as she slid down from the horse, and she was closer to him than ever before. Only a whisper of a breath separated them. She looked up at him, her eyes intense and wondering and... searching.

His hand came up and the tips of his fingers touched her cheek, just as they had the day before. His fingers caressed the sweet curves of her face, and he was amazed that the gesture was so intimate, so wondrous. His breath caught in his throat. He'd never wanted anything as much as to lean down and kiss her. Not just a brief touch of their lips, but a deep, full, possessive kiss. He felt her tremble in his arms, and his heart jerked.

His right hand moved from her cheek to the hood of the cloak, slipping it down from her hair, and his fingers moved the pins that held it in place. Ringlets of dark hair fell around her face. They felt like silk to his rough fingers.

He pulled her tighter against him, feeling the slenderness of her body against his. The trembling of her body slowed. Stopped. Then she looked up at him again with those lovely gray-green eyes.

He bent down and his lips met hers. It was a soft, searching touch, an inevitable kind of kiss that was as natural as stars appearing at night. Waves of tenderness cascaded through his body, and he realized they had been building over the past few days. There was also a new excitement, an exhilaration at touching her, of feeling her skin against his, and, most of all, of feeling her trust. He felt alive for the first time in years, truly alive. Every nerve end jerked with sensations, and yet he restrained himself as he never had before.

She obviously did not feel the same restraint. He felt her reaching up on tiptoes, her body fitting into his, and her lips responding as no woman had before. Her lips opened instinclively to him, and he felt the warmth of her hands as they went around his neck, fingers playing against his skin.

His kiss deepened, became almost frantic with need. Honey and fire. Sweetness and pain. He had not realized how easily they went together. His blood was like currents of liquid fire, searing every nerve. Their bodies melded together, separated only by the cloth of their garments, but that seemed small barrier.

Duncan had never before experienced such a conflagration of desire. He forced himself to step back. He knew from her kiss that was both shy and eager and that she was a virgin. He could not take that from her, and he knew if he did not stop now he could never stop. He had never wanted anything-anyone- as much as he wanted her.

"Ah, mistress," he said in a voice he knew was ragged. "We cannot."

Her eyes looked glazed as she stared at him. Glazed and beautiful. He had not noticed before how lovely she was. But now she stood in the brisk, cold air, dark hair framing cheeks that were rosy with cold-or heat-her lips slightly swollen from the kiss. He thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman. Or desirable one.

And never one less suitable.

Henry would not approve.

To b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l with Henry.

six.

Lynet's heartbeat accelerated. She had never been so close to a man before. She felt his body change, harden. Waves of forbidden but delectable sensations ran through her. She responded by snuggling even more closely into the curve of his body.

He touched her cheek and that one gentle gesture ignited fires everywhere inside her. His kiss was tinder to those flames. She suddenly was filled with a wanting so strong and so deep that she could not move.

"Mary," he whispered and for a moment the name broke the spell. Mary. The name of someone else. A maiden without responsibilities. She closed her eyes, wis.h.i.+ng she was indeed that person. Robin would be accessible then, even though he was quite obviously a wanderer with no roots.

His finger fit under her chin, turning it upward until she had to look at him. She opened her eyes.

His own silver-blue eyes were like blue fire, the hottest part of the flame. The odd twist in his lips was even more noticeable, turning up one side quizzically. "Are you a sprite who appears only to me?"

She did not want questions, and she seized upon his fancy. She only smiled.

"Then I must discover on my own whether you are flesh and blood," he said. With a rough groan, he embraced her again. His lips pressed against hers recklessly, this time with a hard pa.s.sion that stole her breath. Tenderness faded into something that was all need.

Lynet instinctively opened her mouth. His tongue thrust inside, then gentled as his lips had minutes ago. It slid across her tongue, then seduced the corners of her mouth, almost dancing as he aroused complex, shuddering reactions that roiled through her.

She snuggled even more firmly against him, and her body felt a wicked sweet heat as her blood seemed to slow and simmer.

She heard a whimper deep down in her own throat. Since the first moment she'd met him, something had happened to her senses. Now she was awash in sensations she knew could ruin them both. Yet, she couldn't push away. A few more moments...

A few...

Robin's mouth pulled away, but she felt his rasping breath against her neck as he scattered b.u.t.terfly-light kisses along her cheek, then down her neck. His hands moved provocatively along her back. The combination of gentleness and barely restrained pa.s.sion was intoxicating.

Drugging and seductive... and, strangely enough, comforting. She had the oddest sense of belonging in his arms.

But she could never belong here. Never. She had a duty to her family. And Robin? He had not spoken of love.

And if he knew who she was truly?

She suddenly wrenched her mouth from his and forced herself to take one small step back.

She tried to take another one, but his hand caught her wrist. It was like an iron band.

"I will not let you run away again," he said. "Not until I know where to find you."

She bent her head. "I cannot say."

"At least now I know you are no sprite. Or fairy."

Her fingers clenched into a fist. Otherwise she might lift one hand and touch his face as he had touched

hers. "I know not what you mean."

"A sprite does not kiss that way."

"And have you kissed that many sprites?" She desperately wanted the conversation to go in another

direction. She lifted her eyes to meet his. She wondered whether her face was as flushed as it felt.

He smiled wryly. "Ah, you have me there. I have scant experience in such things," he replied as humor crept into his voice. It was disarming. It was... irresistible.

"If you have any, you have an advantage over me then, sir," she said.

"No, I think not," he said, his fingers rubbing hers. "I have no advantage. Sprite or no, you have