Immortal Love (15 page)

“Yes, they are,” Eleanor said with
appreciation.

Martha helped with washing Eleanor’s hair. It
dried in waves down her back as she sat by the fire. Like a
pampering mother, Martha made a production of dressing her
mistress.

Her maid pulled a soft ivory under tunic over
Eleanor’s head. “This is the finest fabric I’ve ever seen.”

Eleanor ran her hands down her sides. “It
does feel luxurious. It makes me feel. . .”

“Like a woman?”

Eleanor smiled. “Yes, like a woman.”

The gown was next. The girdle hung low on
Eleanor’s hips to emphasize her narrow waist. She chose not to wear
a headscarf and just wore the circlet. Martha put two more dabs of
the gardenia oil on her neck then turned her toward the mirror.

Eleanor could not believe her eyes. Never
before had she seen herself that way.

“You look like a queen, my dear,” Martha’s
said, her voice cracked with the threat of tears.

“I
feel
like a queen.” She swished the
skirt around her ankles.

Another sweep of the comb through her hair
and she was ready to head out the door. Anxious to see Dominick’s
reaction, she descended the stairs. Eleanor stopped. Standing at
the bottom was a vision of pure masculinity.

The white tunic Dominick was wearing fit him
like a second skin. It was made of the same fabric as Eleanor’s
gown. It added contrast to his near black eyes.

They smoldered with something Eleanor didn’t
recognize, yet her skin prickled with delight when he looked at
her. His breeches were made of supple black leather that fit
snuggly around his thighs, and his sable-black hair was pulled away
from his face, framing his jaw and cheekbones. His lips pulled into
a slow sultry smile.

Eleanor felt light headed and giddy. She
placed her hand on her stomach to still the butterflies that
stirred. Chiding herself for having such silly notions, she
continued down the stairs. The heady musk aroma titillated her
senses as she stood next to him. A feeling she didn’t recognize
slammed into her.

“Are you feeling well?” he asked. “Maybe you
were in the sun too long today.”

Brought out of her reverie, Eleanor had to
think fast. Shaking her foot she stammered, “No, I--I just had a
stone in my slipper.” She gave her foot a furious shake for show.
“There, I think it’s gone now.”

Dominick gave her a crooked smiled. “Good.”
He brought her hand to his lips and bowed slightly. More of the
masculine aroma assaulted her senses. “Shall we proceed?”

“Y . . . yes,” she said, her voice a little
too high. “I’m starving. I think I could eat half a stag by
myself.”

“Well there is certainly plenty of food. I
believe the cooks have outdone themselves this evening.”

Dominick escorted Eleanor to her seat. She
looked across from him to where Randolf sat. He was dressed
completely in black. His blue eyes sparkled as a young maid passed
by. Eleanor smiled. She found Dominick’s brother to be completely
charming. “Good evening, Randolf.”

He raised his cup in salute. “Good evening,
my lady. You’re looking especially splendid.”

“Thank you.”

She looked over at Erik. A mystery man, but
he was a good friend to Dominick and deserved her loyalty and
appreciation. “Good evening, Lord Erik.”

“Good evening, my lady.”

His striking good looks were hard to miss.
Like her husband and Randolf, Erik had the body of a soldier. His
hair was like spun gold, but his most striking feature were his
eyes. They were the color of amber. She’d never seen eyes that
color before. She detected sadness hidden deep behind them.
Eleanor’s mind waived away such frivolity. She hardly ever spoke to
the man. How would she know if he was sad or not? “Please call me
Eleanor.”

Erik's smile was difficult to resist.
“Eleanor,” he said testing her name on his lips.

“Tell me, Lord Erik—.”

“Erik, please.”

She smiled. “Tell me, Erik, where do you call
home?”

“My home is a six day ride east to
Alastair.”

“How long have you been away?”

“Through the winter. I helped Dominick rout
out McPhearson's siege. I hope to be returning before the spring
festival.”

“A festival? How exciting.”

“It is. The first week in May, people come
from all over to celebrate a new beginning for crops and animals.
Merchants come to sell their wares. Jongleurs and acrobats are
there to entertain. Eight days of eating, drinking, and
celebrating. It’s quite spectacular,” he said enthusiastically.

For the first time she saw him smile. “It
sounds wonderful.”

“You and Dominick must come one year. It’s
quite the experience.”

“We would love to come. Thank you for the
invitation.”

Dominick turned to them. “Invitation?” “What
invitation is that?”

“Erik has invited us to Spring Festival at
Alastair.”

“Oh, yes. I remember I went one year. By the
end of it I was exhausted, but it was an extremely good time. We
must go next year.”

The entrance of food interrupted their
conversation. Eleanor stiffened when a goblet of wine was placed
before Dominick. Involuntarily her hand reached out and pushed it
back down to the table.

“Don’t worry, my dear. I saw to the pouring
of the wine myself.” He sipped. “An excellent red wine.” He tipped
the cup to his lips again before offering it to her.

She hesitated but a moment then slowly
brought the cup to her mouth. Reluctantly she let the liquid slide
on to her tongue. It was sweet with a fermented edge. “That is not
as terrible as I thought it would be.”

“It’s meant only to enhance a meal, not make
it forgettable." Eleanor nodded and when Dominick poured a small
amount into her goblet she drank it cautiously as the meal
continued.

The four of them spent the evening talking
about plans for rebuilding Godwin. Even though much had been done,
there was still much more renovation to be completed.

Occasionally, Dominick would lean forward and
Eleanor would catch the scent of his musky aroma. Arrows of
excitement rushed through her. Throughout the evening his knee
brushed against hers, causing her breath to catch in the back of
her throat. She suspected the acts were deliberate, but when she
looked up at him, she found his gaze was somewhere else.

With Dominick there were no casual glances.
His dark-eyed stares swept over her like a forest fire. She found
it difficult to concentrate on the conversation and wondered if he
knew the effect he was having on her. Finally, she gathered herself
together. She was not like those young girls standing at the edge
of the field, sighing and drooling at his every move. The image of
him and the plow nearly wiped out her resolve, but she pulled back
hard and participated in the conversation.

Soon all of the guests retired. Eleanor and
Dominick shared one more cup of wine. His two hounds sat quietly at
their feet. Reaching down, she gave each one attention. They
passively lay on their sides while she stroked them.

Dominick stretched his long legs out in front
of the fire. He pulled up the sleeves of his tunic calling
attention to the contrast of his bronze skin against the white
fabric. He was getting darker due to his working in the fields. She
could never imagine her father working the land. Actually she could
never remember him ever venturing out of the castle. The only image
of her father she had was him staggering around with a tankard of
ale in his hand. How could she ever have compared that monster to
Dominick?

“How is the change from being the King’s
general to a landowner? Has it been difficult?”

“You mean the adjustment to three meals a day
and sleeping with a roof over my head as opposed to sleeping on the
hard ground in the freezing rain and foraging for food?”

Eleanor smiled. “Yes.”

“Not well at all,” he said, pretending to be
indifferent, then smiled.

Chuckling, Eleanor pleaded, “Truthfully, is
this all you expected?”

He looked around the great hall. “Truthfully,
better. I didn’t realize how satisfying it could be to make a small
piece of the world my own. With every seed I plant or brick I
raise, I feel as though I’m mortaring over a hole in my life.”

“Is that why you work so hard?”

“Hard work is no stranger to me, Eleanor. It
was the only way to survive.”

She leaned forward with interest. “How
so?”

“Although we’re of noble birth, we are
bastards. Not much higher than a servant. Our father fostered us
out to another earl’s household.” Dominick swallowed and cleared
his throat. “I will never forget that day. My mother was crying, my
father’s eyes were puffy and red as though he too had been crying.
Until that time I thought we were all happy. I didn’t understand
why we were being sent away. My father assured me it was only
temporary, that he would send for us soon, but we needed to learn
how to be men and could not do it under the cloud of scandal. I
promised to learn as fast as I could so our separation would be
short. And then we were taken away. I was ten and Randolf was
seven.

“Years went by without hearing from our
parents. Every wagon and every messenger that came through I hoped
brought word from them, and that soon it would be time to go back
home. But I was wrong. Years later, I stopped hoping.” He paused
for a moment and took a sip of wine.

Eleanor could feel a lump growing in her
throat, imagining Dominick as a little boy waiting for word from
his parents, and the disappointment of none coming.

He continued. “Lord Harold taught us as much
as he could. Trainers from all over the world came to train us with
new fighting skills. When we were old enough Lord Harold told us it
was time to seek our own fortunes. Bastards did not inherit their
own land.

The question played in her mind, and she had
to ask. “Did you ever try going back to see your mother and
father?”

“No. A few years ago, Randolf and I got word
that our parents were dead. There was no reason to go back.”

“Randolf and I pledged our services to
whoever would pay for them. We fought in tournaments, where much
gold was to be won. During one of these tournaments King William
asked us to join him in his Crusades. He took a final draw on his
wine and stood up. “Are you ready to retire, my dear?”

The abrupt change in subject caught Eleanor
off guard. As she listened to his story, she watched the pain in
his eyes. It was something he buried deep.

“Oh Dominick, I’m so sorry.”

He kissed her hand. “It’s in the past, not to
be dwelled upon.” A muscle in his jaw flexed.

She began to protest. “But Dom—”

He placed his forefinger on her lips. “It’s
to be forgotten.”

His dark eyes held hers as he moved closer.
She could feel the heat of his body. “Are you ready to sleep?”

The way she had been feeling throughout the
evening was far from sleepy. “All right,” she said, suddenly
nervous.

Once inside their chamber, Dominick stoked up
the fire until the room glowed brightly.

Eleanor struggled with the laces of her
gown.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

She froze for a heartbeat. After the last few
weeks she’d grown accustomed to him unlacing her gowns, but that
night his doing so seemed particularly intimate. She quickly looked
toward the bed. With a deep sigh of relief, she saw the broadsword
lying there.

Dropping her hands to her sides, she allowed
him to pull on the laces. Her heart thumped against her rib cage as
his fingers brushed her neck. She could feel his breath blow gently
on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. The spicy musk seduced
her senses. Her nipples tightened almost painfully as he pulled the
gown off her shoulders and his fingers brushed her arms. Unable to
endure it longer, she stepped forward out of his grasp.

“I’m sure I can get the rest myself,” she
said, expelling a rush of air.

Even though she was still covered in her
chemise, the way he looked at her made her feel naked. Looking down
she found her nipples protruding beneath the fabric. She crossed
her arms over them and climbed into bed, pulling the bed robes up
to her chin.

Dominick gave her a seductive smile, making
her wonder what he was up to. Unbinding his hair, it fell around
his shoulders and face. He looked wild and untamed. He unlaced his
tunic exposing his golden skin and the cut of the muscles in his
chest and stomach. He didn’t remove it completely. Sitting in a
chair, he bent over to take off his boots, allowing her vision full
access to the muscles that bunched in his chest and stomach. He
stood back up and pulled the tunic off his broad shoulders, flexing
his arms as he did it. Eleanor sank deep in the furs, covering
herself up to her nose to stifle a groan, but she couldn’t look
away.

Slowly he unlaced his breeches just a bit,
exposing his flesh below his navel. Eleanor bit down hard on her
lip. Suddenly, he needed a drink of water. His Adam’s apple bobbed
with every gulp. It crossed Eleanor’s mind to pour the entire
contents of the pitcher over her head and douse the fires that
burned inside her.

Finally, he unlaced the rest of his breeches
at a torturously slow pace. Eleanor’s throat went dry, and her eyes
nearly crossed when he slid his britches down his hips and pulled
them off. She saw his rock hard shaft as he turned completely
toward her. Her heart worked its way to her throat. In a panic that
she might reveal her feelings, she rolled to her side and pulled
the covers over her head. She thought she heard a chuckle before
she felt his weight shift on the other side.

“Good night, little dove,” he whispered.

“Goo—” Feeling like cotton was stuffed in her
mouth, she swallowed hard to clear it. “Good night, Dominick.”

Despite her bidding, she knew there would be
no rest for her that night.