Her Favoured Captain (14 page)

 
He laughed again, seeming content to remain
her captive. “Me, in love with Catherine?”

 
“What else am I to think?” she demanded,
emotions taking hold against every effort to avoid exposure of her deepest
feelings.

 
Astonishment swept to his face, his eyes
perhaps searching hers for sense of reason to their present conflict. She
couldn’t be sure but he seemed confused by her statement. “I grant you
Catherine is fair of complexion, and pretty with it.” He chuckled, tweaked her
nose. “She’s quite unlike you, my little meadow nymph, what with her fancy airs
and graces and heart set on a future lord as suitor, presupposing one willing
to oblige.”

 
“What need I for fancy airs and graces, when
already of noble blood?”

 
“Of noble blood, true enough, but wild and
reckless and impulsive and madly irritating at times.”

 
She punched his shoulder quite hard. “So, it
is true, what the servants say. You and Catherine Thornton are sweethearts?”

 
Eyes blazing like white heat in a blacksmith’s
brazier, he held her gaze. “And if we are, what odds is it to you?”

 
“Why Catherine, why did you choose her, of
all people?

 
“Why does it concern you so, Anna, Lady
Maitcliffe, in knowing where my affections are wont to stray?”

 
“You know she hates my living here at
Axebury Hall . . . Hate’s my being with you.”

 
“If what you say be true about Catherine and
I,” he said, eyes flashing with hint of earnest intent, “then I had best away
to Loxton House and pay court to Miss Thornton directly.”

 
She wanted to beat Catherine Thornton from
his thoughts, pummel sense into him with clenched fists, but the hopelessness
of her plight showed all too readily. Her dream of one day wedded to Morton was
now crushed. Tears brimmed and almost spilled forth. She made to roll away from
him, her escape thwarted by his arm about her quick sharp.

 
“Tears Anna, why tears?”

 
Pulled down to him, eyes locked, her heart
skipped for his lips brushed hers in a most tantalising manner. The kiss tender
light at first, became amorous and urgent in deliverance. She had no notion a
kiss could be so potent, nor had she imagined the sudden joy of a young man’s
tongue in her mouth. Dizzied by it all, she surrendered to sense of extreme
pleasure. It all felt so wonderful, so perfect, even his fingers rimming the
neckline of her bodice thrilled her. And deft with dipping his hand inside her
bodice, his touch became merciless torture whilst his lips devoured hers.

 
She had so longed for this moment, and state
of arousal had overcome him for she could feel his ardour beneath her. She
savoured every nuance of his hand in idle caress of bared breast. The adventure
and daring of his plunder caused her pulse to quicken and breath to falter.

 
Perhaps, perhaps she could win him back from
Catherine Thornton’s clutches after all. But the wondrous sensation ceased as
rapidly as begun, and he cast her aside, her bodice in disarray, his cruelty
unimagined as he declared, “We cannot Anna, we cannot do this.”

 
“Why, why can we not be together?” she tendered,
quite aware of his physical predicament. “It does no harm to kiss, and fondling
is not a crime if a lady wishes to engage in mutual exploration.”

 
“Not for you.” Face flushed he rolled over
and away from her. “Hellish painful for me, though, now go away and leave me
alone.”

 
“I am not a child to be dismissed, and
you’re a beast to pretend you care for me and then turn away because I am not
your precious Catherine.”

 
He spun round to face her. “You are only
five and ten years, and I old enough to know better. You really think me
foolish enough to take advantage of a young innocent, the very one favoured by
the Queen, the one the royal court placed in my father’s care? I think not. I
value my neck.” He raked fingers through sun-bleached hair, frustration and
anger evident. “What I did had nothing to do with Catherine. Now go. Just go.”

 
“Three years, Morton, you are only three
years my senior, and a week from now I will be ten years and six.” She
hurriedly glanced further upstream toward the bridge, modicum of guilt washing
over her but she so wanted to steal him from Catherine. “The grass is high, and
no one can see us from the bridge. Besides, I may have once dwelled at court
and kept company with children of the royal household, but I do not have to
return there unless I so choose.”

 
“Just go away,” insisted Morton, propped on
one elbow. “If the Queen sends for you, you cannot refuse to attend upon her.”

 
“She will not. It was agreed I am at liberty
to return if I so wish at ten and seven years of age . . . unless already
betrothed by then.” What difference does it make if I go or stay? We were only
kissing, and even if you . . . You know
 
. . .”

 
“Had my way with you?” Morton sat bolt
upright and drew up one knee, the lump in his groin shrouded by the fold of his
breeches. “Just go, go before we do something we shall both regret.”

 
“But Juliet was merely ten and three years,
and Romeo
 
. . .”

 
“Leave me be, Anna, leave me out of your
romantic dreams. You are here as father’s ward, and I sworn to protect you
always, as though my very own sister. You can tempt the devil within all you
like, but be assured I will not pursue nor attempt to bed you.”

 
She upped and fled, and ran to her little
bay mare. Although impossible to mount Megan without a helping hand she caught
up the reins and led the mare away from Morton’s horse, which seemed content
enough to stay grazing and not the least concerned by their hastened departure.

 
Horse and man alike: both happy in their own
company. Well, in future she would not ride out with him.

 
A broken down wall soon served as a mounting
step, and she regained her seat in saddle and rode for home. Knowledge of what
had occurred between them would not pass her lips, not even if asked about her
dishevelled state of dress and unruly hair threaded with grass and seed heads.
She would rather die than reveal Morton had kissed her and
 
. . . and
 
. . . had thrown her off in favour of Catherine Thornton.

~

He slammed his fist to
brow several times, pain in groin far less than ache in heart. Dear God, how he
loved her, loved everything about her. What he felt for Anna he dared not think
about, for he’d kept his desires at bay and resisted temptation time and time
again. Now, self-restraint had escaped him and lustful appetite declared albeit
for a brief moment in time.

 
Sweet, sweet Anna, and her for sure
convinced his heart was lost to Catherine. Hell and damnation. Little did Anna
know betrothal to the Thornton girl had never entered his mind, nor would he
agree to a marriage with the likes of Catherine not even if her parents and his
had struck some honourable deal made during their infancy.

 
On his feet in a thrice, his running strides
fast covered the ground, and heart pounding he cursed the sound of Megan’s
shoes crossing the bridge. He called out in hope of delaying Anna’s flight, and
absolute sure she had heard and deliberately ignored him it hurt. Damn it, it
hurt a lot. Dear God, how his rejection must have pained her. He leapt to
saddle; his horse less than keen for a gallop on full belly of grass, but once
clear of the bridge he gave Calendar free rein and his mount rallied.

 
They sped alongside the river, his every
intention to ease the pain of his callous rejection as good as dashed, unless
he could catch Anna before she reached the safety of the stable mews. He
groaned in dismay as she disappeared into the mews. With Calendar sweated
beyond reason, he reined to canter and thence to trot on approach to same, and
once within the mews there was no Anna to be seen just her mare about to be led
away by a stable hand.

 
He leapt from the saddle, Calendar’s reins
tossed to senior stable hand, a scowl of justified rebuke from Joseph before
the young master at Axebury Hall could turn and flee in pursuit of his heart’s
desire. He quite expected verbal outburst in response to Calendar’s sweated
loins but Joseph for once held his tongue: a wise individual and likely having
gauged his young master’s urgency as of some importance. No doubt tongues would
wag, and rumours of intimacy between him and Anna soon to abound within the
servants parlour.

 
It was sensible to ascend to upper floor by
way of the servants” stone staircase, rather than perchance be spied in pursuit
of Anna through the main hall. She would be at the staircase by now and sure to
go straight to her bedchamber, given her tearful flight beforehand. He knew
that much about her, and his cruel action in the meadow was unforgivable.

 
In haste he almost collided with a maid
hurrying down to the laundry room, her arms draped with bed linen. They danced
this way and that in attempt to each pass the other, until he grasped her
shoulders and sidestepped. The maid giggled, presumably at his semi-nakedness.
Nevertheless, he carried on his way two steps taken with each stride in haste
to waylay Anna in the main corridor before she vanished inside her chamber.

 
He should have made sure her bodice was
rearranged proper, her raven hair as neat as able and no tears to set rife
suspicions of his having sullied her in any way. At least the truth was out and
Anna had proved herself not the least smitten with Thomas. Such had gladdened
his heart, and although it was imperative to make things right between them he
dare not declare his love for her. It would be utter folly. Time and civil war
marched toward them, and his destiny was already perceived by his father as
that of a young cavalry officer in a royalist troop, but in the next day or so
a secret would be revealed and might well tear the family apart.

 
He reached the second floor, and about to
push the panelled door left ajar by the maid, Anna’s tearful voice and that of
his father questioning her unhappy state halted his hand mid-air. He held his
breath, pressed himself tight to the wall, his chest taut and heart beating as
loud as a drum. As luck would have it the pair passed him by without incident;
Anna’s sobs plucking at his heartstrings.

 
His father’s voice, although soothing to
Anna in respect of her unhappy state, nevertheless the elder’s presence alone a
reminder of the danger yet to come. How would his lordship react, once news of
his son’s refusal to abide to family tradition in service to the royal court
was declared? If only, if only King Charles had seen sense the country would be
at relative peace, and his and Anna’s future less uncertain. Thank God his
mother approved of his intended action, her positive encouragement his staff of
righteousness though he could not claim the same devotion to the scriptures as
her ladyship.

 
He turned and thrust his hands to stark cold
of wall. Head bowed, Anna’s anguished expression and nut-brown eyes bejewelled
by tears plagued him. Try as he might he could not banish the soft tickle of
her lustrous locks brushing against his cheek, nor sensual softness of tender
young breast beneath his fingers. He drew breath, his chest as though banded by
steel, the memory of her lips captured by his and the merciless way in which he
had wanted to devour every part of her: enough to drive a man insane. His
rejection of her was far worse, her petite figure to flight utter agony. A
moment of rash behaviour behind him, he now had a treasured sensual memory
albeit one to haunt the lonely path ahead. Dear heaven, how am I to live
without her?

~

Four days later after
intense feelings of embarrassment and avoidance of Morton, with exception of
brief verbal exchange at mealtimes, Anna was sure he had ridden to Loxton
House. It was therefore safe to venture out for a short ride, and to that aim
she set off from the mews. Too late she realised her mistake, for no more than
a few paces beyond the stable mews and now nearing the private Gantry church
she spied Morton riding toward her, his velvet coat the colour of his
cornflower blue eyes.

 
She drew breath and reined Megan to a
standstill. It was best to brave up to him, for as much as she wished to turn
about and flee in the opposite direction he was too close.

 
He too reined in and brought his horse
alongside Megan; head to tail. “Anna, how long do you propose we remain distant
in the manner of enemies?”

 
 
“I
have not with intention kept distance between us.”

 
“I do love you meadow nymph, never doubt
that, ever.”

 
Stunned by his proclamation, words failed
her.

 
“Anna?” He touched her sleeve. “Can we not
at least be friends again?”

 
Heart racing she struggled to think let
alone speak, and could not bear to be ridiculed for a second time. “I had not
thought us otherwise, and what happened in the meadow is of little consequence.
You chose to distance yourself from me. And I have been too busy to notice whether
you are here or at Loxton House.”

 
She thought him about to laugh, his eyes
sparkling in mischievous manner. “Come Anna
 
. . . we both know what happened between us cannot be put aside so
easily.”