Amanda Scott (27 page)

Compared to Roslin or Chalamine, Hawthornden was small, but when they entered the keep, she saw that the architecture inside was similar to Roslin’s.

The hall, located directly off a half-landing, was much smaller than Roslin’s, and the rushes on its floor gave off an odor that told her they needed replacing as much as those at Lestalric did. Her first inclination was to blame Sorcha for the lack of care, but recalling that her sister had been resident there for only a month before departing again for the Highlands, she knew blaming her would be unfair. Sorcha and Hugo had stayed at Hawthornden only at night, too, returning to Roslin every day.

A number of men were sleeping on the hall floor, but when several stirred and began to get up, Rob signed to them to stay where they were and guided her back to the stairwell. On the next landing, he pushed open a door to a shadowy chamber that seemed at first glance to be full of curtained bed. With the door fully open, she saw that the room was larger than it first appeared.

Crossing it, Rob threw back the shutters on a tall window to let in the pale light of a moon much lower now in the western sky than when they had left the abbey. “Come,” he said quietly. “Look at the view.”

Shutting the door behind her, she obeyed, passing the large bed extending along most of the wall to her right, its foot end toward the window. It still seemed overlarge for the room, but when she went to stand by him and gaze out on the moonlit landscape before her, she forgot about the bed.

“How beautiful.”

They had followed the wooded track along the eastern rim of the gorge, rather than the cart trail that followed the river’s course through its depths, and she had seen during her journey to Edinburgh that the west side of the river was not as steep or as high as the eastern side. From the castle, she could see Roslin, more than a mile to her left up the glen. And she could look straight down to the river, too, which had not been possible from the track, since it ran through dense woodland some distance from the cliff edge.

She stood to his right, and when his arm slipped around her shoulders, she turned to him willingly and raised her lips to meet his. His were warm and touched hers lightly, but then his arm gripped tighter and his lips pressed harder, opening slightly as his free hand eased up between his body and hers to brush over her left breast, stirring nerves to life in the nipple, making her gasp. But the hand did not linger. Warm fingers touched her chin.

As if it were a signal, his right hand shifted to cup the back of her head, and his kisses grew more demanding. His tongue pressed between her lips, and when she parted them, it slid inside to explore the interior of her mouth. Astonished, since no one had ever kissed her so before, she stiffened and would have pulled back but for his hand at the back of her head. Then his body pressed hard along the length of hers, and new feelings awakened in her, making her forget her surprise. Moaning softly, she leaned into him and touched her tongue to his.

The fingers touching her chin moved to the ties of her cloak, tugging briefly until the sable-trimmed lavender velvet hushed to the floor at her feet.

“Doesn’t your shoulder hurt?” she murmured.

“Aye, but some things are worth the pain,” he murmured back before his lips possessed hers again.

Her tawny-silk surcoat followed swiftly, then her front-laced kirtle and underskirt, leaving her in her linen shift, heavily wrinkled, she was sure, from riding with it rucked round her hips. The only other things she still wore were the gold chain necklace her mother had given her, and the ring from her husband.

Trying to smooth the worst of the wrinkles from the shift, she said, “Have you undressed women often, sir? You seem most adept at the business.”

His eyes twinkled. “I vow, ’tis no more than male instinct.”

“You once claimed to be all integrity,” she said sternly, raising her eyebrows. “But I suspect falsehood in those words.”

“Doubtless
that
is no more than male instinct, too,” he said with a grin. “Deriving from the strongest of all male instincts, that of survival.”

“So now I must guess when you are honest with me and when you are not?”

“Nay, lass, you’ll know. Do you doubt that?”

She looked narrowly at him for a long moment, but he met the look easily.

“No,” she said. “I believe I will know.”

“Good,” he said, kissing her again lightly. “We’ve more important things to do than to fratch about words or about things that should remain in the past.”

Sakes, but he would have to watch his step! How foolish to point out how easily she would know if he were lying!

Although he had told her the only way to keep a secret was never to share it, in troth, the only way was never to let anyone know one
had
a secret. She already knew he harbored at least one, and doubtless she suspected he kept others.

When she had mentioned the treasure earlier, he had diverted her by proposing that they marry. How smug he had been then to believe marriage would make no difference, that her unusual lack of curiosity and disdain for secrets would let him keep his easily. But he could hardly count on that if the subject of the treasure arose again now that she knew she could discern a falsehood.

And what about the map?

She had held it in her hand, had concealed it for him, and had returned it without a murmur. To be sure, others had surrounded them at the time, and events of the evening had doubtless pushed it from her mind. But he could not keep diverting her. Not if she could read him merely by narrowing her beautiful eyes.

His attention diverted when he touched her cool skin and realized that, in her shift and so near the window, she must be chilly. Yet there remained the not insignificant matter of removing his own clothing before they could both get into bed. Ignoring the continuing ache in his shoulder, he gently rubbed both hands up and down her bare arms, then indulged himself by kissing her more.

The skin of her upper arms was soft to his touch and silky smooth. Her hair smelled of dried lavender and rosemary, her skin of something similar but lighter, more herbal. He pulled her close again and nuzzled her neck, easing her necklace aside so her could kiss her there, making her giggle as a child might when he did.

“Art ticklish, lassie?”

“Aye, there … and other places, too.”

“I shall have to explore them all,” he said soberly.

“Will you?” Her eyes were wide, their pupils huge and black.

He kissed her lips again. “I’ll need help undressing. Shall I waken one of the lads to aid me so you can get into bed and stay warm, or—”

“You undressed me, my lord. Surely, I should have the same pleasure.”

He grinned. “Please yourself, sweetheart. I begin to think this marriage may have been a wiser decision than I knew, providing me with a beautiful handmaiden.”

“Mayhap you should keep a still tongue in your head, sir,” she said with a slight edge to her tone. “Recall that if you irk me, you may cause me to forget your injury for one brief, unhappy moment.”

“I was teasing, lass.”

She frowned as if her thoughts had turned inward. “I’m not a good subject for teasing, I think. But strangely, just tonight I realized I had spoken teasingly to you. That is unusual, too. I am generally of a more sober disposition.”

“Laughter is good for the soul, but mayhap we both should beware. My temper has got me into trouble more than once, although over the years I
have
learned to control it much better than I did as a lad. Still, if you are venturing into the art of teasing at such a late date, don’t forget to trust your instincts and be sure I am of a mind to laugh. I’ll promise to do the same.”

She nodded, then said, “Should we not clean and tend your wound whilst you have your shirt off?”

“Nay, for I’m sure it will just need tending again later,” he said. “But come now, you must be freezing. At least put on your cloak over your shift.”

“It will only get in the way,” she said. “The air is just cool, not cold.” He tried to keep his hands off her, to let her unlace his doublet and hose quickly, so she could get into bed. It seemed impossible, but despite her assurance, he saw gooseflesh on her upper arms as she knelt and freed his hose lacing from the eyelet holes on the underside of his doublet. After that, he did naught to delay her.

The rest came off quickly with the exception of his doublet and shirt, both of which she eased away from his wound so slowly that his patience nearly expired before both were off. He was ready for her by then, pain or no pain.

“Is that the same bed Sorcha and Hugo sleep in?” she asked as he pulled back the coverlet and quilt and gestured for her to climb in.

“Aye, do you mind? Hugo won’t.”

“Nor will Sorcha, I’m sure, but it does seem strange to be in their bed,” she said as she climbed in and shifted to the far side.

“It would seem stranger, and far less comfortable, to be in the one Hugo provided for me whilst I lived here with them.”

“Mercy, did he give you an uncomfortable one?”

“Recall my position at the time, lass. Even as a captain, I slept on one of those straw pallets in the hall with the others.”

“It is hard to think of you as Einar Logan,” she said as he got in beside her. “When I think about him, all I remember is his beard.”

“No beard now,” he said as he moved carefully toward her. “I may be somewhat clumsy, though. Take off your shift for me. I want to look at you.”

Obeying, she said, “I don’t know how you will manage.”

He shook his head at her as he said, “Sakes, I’ve fought battles with worse injuries and scarcely noticed them. But stop talking, sweetheart. It has been a long day, and we both need to sleep at least a few hours tonight.”

So saying, he moved over her, leaning on his right elbow and thus blocking much of the moonlight from the window, although there was still enough to glint on her simple necklace. He would buy her a jeweled one, he decided as he cupped one soft breast. He stroked it gently, then moved to stroke her ribs and belly before shifting to the breast again, teasing the nipple, then bending to lick and taste it. Little shivers fluttered across the silky skin beneath his hand as he did.

Easing himself up, he claimed her lips, his body already pulsing for her and beginning to ache elsewhere than his shoulder.

“Will it hurt?” she asked.

“Aye, probably,” he said, adding with a smile, “or so I’m told. But if we go slowly, mayhap it will not.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You need do nothing this time, sweetheart. Just relax and don’t jump out of your skin if something I do should startle you.”

Smiling, she said, “I never used to do that.” Her words ended in a gasp when he began sucking the nipple he had tasted earlier.

He teased her body and stroked her from her breasts to her belly and lower, getting her used to his touch until he began to fear he could wait no longer. Easing his hand to the fork of her legs, suppressing all thought of the sharpening pain in his shoulder, he gently parted her nether lips and eased a finger inside her.

She was tight but moist and ready for him. Still he spent a few minutes letting her get used to his fingers, hoping that by doing so he would ease the way enough so that she could more easily endure the pain his penetration would cause.

Adela marveled at the feelings his lightest touch stirred. Nerves she had not known she possessed had come to life, and the sensations fascinated and delighted her. Had anyone told her she could feel this way with any man, let alone one she had known for only days, she would never have believed them. But so it was, for she had felt from the beginning as if she had known him forever, as if by his voice alone he were familiar to her and beloved.

Common sense told her such a thing was impossible, that no one could know another person well without a long, close relationship to develop kinship. She had never had that with a male before. She had no brothers and no male cousins to whom she could speak so freely. But she had felt kinship with Rob from the start, and something more, a bond that she had never felt with anyone before.

His hands felt as if they belonged on her body, stroking her, making her gasp with delight. And when his fingers penetrated her, she gasped again. As he eased himself atop her and fitted himself inside, she felt a frisson of fear, but it passed. She felt a dull ache then. But he was still for a few moments, and the ache passed, too. He began to move again, slowly, rhythmically, and her mind filled with the feelings he stirred until all awareness of anything but his movements and her feelings ceased.

She savored each moment, focusing on each new sensation until he began to move faster and faster, plunging deeper with each stroke. She felt pain again, but it did not seem to matter as much as the thought that he might be giving her a child at that moment. His child and her own, to love and to cherish.

Soon he was moving so quickly and so powerfully that she feared he must be hurting himself badly. But instinct and desire banded together to suppress that fear, and Adela savored the moment.

When he collapsed atop her, they both lay still for several long moments before he murmured, “Can you still breathe, sweetheart?”

“Aye, well enough. How is your shoulder?”

“I feel nothing. I’m numb.” He raised himself up and looked into her eyes, and he was smiling.

She smiled back. “I felt many things, new and wonderful things,” she said.

“That was only a beginning,” he said. “There is much more I can teach you.”

He got up then and poured water into the basin from the ewer on the washstand, and soaked a cloth to help her clean herself.

“I’ll help you, too,” she said. “Where is the countess’s salve?”

“In that pouch I was carrying,” he said. “I set it somewhere.”

He found it, and after she had dealt with his wound, they got back into the bed, where he slid his good arm under her shoulders and drew her close again, holding her comfortably so until she slept.

She rode peacefully beneath a big golden sun in a clear azure sky, her mount a snow-white beast with a lovely, silken mane and tail, her saddle so comfortable it was as if she floated on pillows, rocking gently, ever so gently, the way one did in a small boat on a calm sea. But as she became aware of the boat and realized she was not on horseback at all, the boat began to rock faster, then wildly.