Knight's Caress (6 page)

Amberlie noticed a wild tangle of vines to her left, a perfect hiding spot from Tedric. All she had to do was casually wade in that direction, quickly bend down, and never surface again. At least, she wouldn’t surface
there
. She’d swim back to where she’d entered the stream while Tedric looked for her. Then while he continued searching for her, she’d swim in the opposite direction until she reached Woodrose Keep. As a child, she’d learned to swim in the treacherous Channel that separated France from England. She was certain she was up to swimming against this lackadaisical current.

Yes, the plan would work. It had to work, but she mustn’t seem too eager to escape. She must put him off guard and not allow him to believe that she had a plan in mind. He must think that she was a silly female without a thought in her head. She ceased bathing and called out to him, “You’re peeping at me!”

Tedric fully opened his eyes. “Aye, but I wasn’t staring at you. There is a difference.”

“How smug you are! I see no difference, and I don’t like it. I wish for some privacy.” The whole time she spoke, she moved towards her left while Tedric remained seated, apparently not realizing what she was doing. Perhaps he was truly dense. She found herself strangely disappointed at the knowledge.

The vines grew thicker. Her figure disappeared behind the wild cluster. Now was her chance!

Amberlie let out a false scream and dove beneath the water. Tedric had already risen to his feet. By the time he’d splashed into the stream, she was already swimming past him underwater like a slippery eel and heading in the opposite direction. For a second, she surfaced below where she’d entered earlier and caught a breath. She knew she mustn’t let Tedric see her, but she had to see what he was doing. Just as she’d thought, he dove near the vines, searching for her, frantically calling out to her. For a moment, she felt almost guilty not to be drowning, he appeared so concerned. But she had to prevent him from regaining her home. Woodrose Keep belonged to her!

With a self-satisfied smile, Amberlie took another breath and dove beneath the surface, feeling sorry for Tedric. It seemed he’d been easily duped.

Vines grew even thicker in spots along the shoreline where she swam. Their roots extended beneath the water and made passage somewhat precarious and dangerous. Many of the vines grew quite tall, their branches fanning out like a bear’s talons to taunt and snag any debris floating past. It was Amberlie’s destiny that her hair snagged on an underwater branch.

She made a vain attempt to pull away, but her effort was useless. A long strand of hair had wrapped around the branch, and she couldn’t seem to untangle it. It felt as if her scalp were pulling free each time she tried to extricate herself. She couldn’t rise to the surface, trapped as she was under the water. She tried to remain calm, but her lungs started to burn. Only seconds were left. She couldn’t hold her breath for much longer. If only she hadn’t acted on impulse, but somehow had planned her escape better. If only Tedric would look this way!

Her lungs felt like they would burst, and still she worked feverishly to untangle her hair. She wouldn’t give up—she couldn’t give up. She wouldn’t drown here in less than five feet of water. Though not a boy, she had won her father’s hard-earned praise by swimming treacherous currents when she was barely ten years old, had won her father’s love by her own daring.

She wouldn’t die like this, she didn’t want to die now! She was too young for the grave, too much alive to give in to death. More than anything she wanted children, and she would accept any husband whom King William chose for her—even an elderly, toothless man. Gratefully she would marry as long as God allowed her life. Yet she couldn’t hold her breath for much longer, and finally she swallowed water.

She stopped struggling. A strange lethargy seized hold of her and she began to drift with the current. Death was but seconds away, and suddenly she no longer feared it but almost welcomed it. Moments before her eyes closed, she was vaguely aware of Tedric, who bumped against her. He grabbed her around the waist with one hand while his other brandished a blade and swiped at the strand of her hair, freeing her from the branch. Then he lifted her high above the water’s surface and swiftly waded to shore with her in his arms.

Tedric placed her face down on the soft grass and pushed the water from her lungs. Immediately, Amberlie regained consciousness, nearly choking on the water she’d swallowed as she regurgitated it on the ground.
“Mon
…
Dieu “
she whispered brokenly, her throat aching with the effort. Never in her life had she felt so horribly numb. Her entire body shook so hard she couldn’t control it.

“How are you feeling?” Tedric asked in concern, rolling her onto her back after she’d finished coughing. She nodded weakly, unable to answer him since her teeth chattered so badly. He grabbed her mantle from where she’d left it and wrapped her in its warmth. Held against him, Amberlie heard the wild thump of his heart against her ear and realized he was shaking too. He stroked her wet hair, pushing it away from her face. Despite her recent brush with death, she felt safe, incredibly protected, and didn’t ponder why that should be so.

His hand gently turned her face to his and she saw eyes which were now an angry blue, though they also bore signs of genuine concern. “‘Twas foolhardy of you to try to escape.”

“Why?” she croaked, her throat burning. “Because I outwitted you?”

“Because you could have drowned!”

“I’ve always been an excellent swimmer. If not for that branch—”

“You’d be dead,” Tedric said matter-of-factly. She realized that he was right, but she wouldn’t admit to it.

“I’d not have been forced to escape if you hadn’t kidnapped me,” she argued.

Tedric nodded. “Aye, ‘tis true. Yet you belong to me until I see you safely returned to your people.”

“I belong to no one, especially not such a barbarian as yourself!” Amberlie attempted to sit up, but she fell back against Tedric’s strong chest as dizziness overwhelmed her.

“Indeed, you’re an ungrateful wench. I saved your life, and you’re in my debt until I decree otherwise. Right now, you’re weak as a chick and entirely in my power. I can do whatever I choose to you, and you cannot resist.”

Despite her weakened physical state, she shook her head in denial. “You’re a ruthless man who will stop at nothing to have his own way. I’m not a docile ewe who’ll follow after you. I won’t do what you want, no matter what it is!”

He considered her a moment, and then before she could protest, he lowered his head and kissed her. His mouth felt warm and alive against her cold, trembling lips. It seemed the kiss instilled life into her, bringing with it a strange, sweet sensation which was more heady than any wine she’d ever drunk. Moaning lowly, she clung shamelessly to his wet tunic, abandoning herself to the reckless and mind-drugging kiss that robbed her of her good sense.

Tedric broke the kiss first, and looked down at her for long moments. Amberlie stared back, her eyes wide and perplexed, an awful fear stealing into her soul that somehow she’d enjoyed that kiss when reason decreed otherwise. This was the man who’d slain her beloved husband, who might have taken all chance of bearing children away from her when he’d coldly murdered Henri. She hated this man and wouldn’t allow herself to feel anything for him—even her own disgusting lust.

“I shouldn’t have done that, my lady. I apologize,” he said coldly just when she thought she’d go mad with the silence between them.

Splotches of color stained her cheeks because he’d been the one to end the kiss, not she. He didn’t care about her as anything other than a hostage, and had kissed her only to prove he possessed power over her. Absurdly, she felt that she should apologize to him because she’d enjoyed the kiss—a very great sin in her mind. “Apologize to … your wife … for kissing me,” she whispered brokenly.

“I have no wife.”

“But is not Glenna…” She broke off at his sardonic smile, detesting herself for even asking about the woman, as if she cared if this vile Saxon was wed or not. Her flush deepened, and she glowered at him for making her respond to him like a whore.

“Glenna is my betrothed,” he said without emotion.

“Then I suggest you kiss and embrace her, for I hate your very touch!” she spat out like a hissing kitten.

“Then mayhaps you should release my tunic; otherwise I shall think you prefer a Saxon barbarian over your gentle Norman knights.”

Amberlie realized that her hands were still curled around the wet cloth, her fingers brushing against the matted hair on his chest. Hurriedly, she let go, almost as if she’d been burned, and pushed resolutely away from him. Slipping out of Tedric’s embrace like an eel, she sat up, grateful that the landscape had ceased spinning. Pulling her gown toward her, Amberlie turned her back and threw off the mantle before placing the dark bliaut over her head.

“May I offer assistance?” she heard Tedric ask behind her, but she ignored him. Finally, when she’d put on her stockings and shoes, she carefully made it to her feet, more than a bit surprised and shocked to find Tedric’s hand on her elbow. “I want only to return you safely to your family,” he offered in explanation.

“I want only to be returned! Why have you done this to me?” She blinked back tears, wanting only to retreat to the keep, away from the odd sensations this man stirred within her each time he touched her.

Tedric sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand before looking toward her with a black scowl. “Guy de Bayonne holds my sister. I apologize for any discomfort you’ve experienced at my
hands, but I’m not sorry for kidnapping you. You’re my last hope, and I will use you in any way necessary to get her back.”

Amberlie had no doubt he would. Tedric was widely reputed to be a conscienceless and formidable foe, as Guy in particular maintained. But he seemed to love his sister very much and be worried about her. He knew nothing of her near ravishment, and Amberlie saw no purpose in telling him. But if she reassured him that his sister was safe and well treated, then he might let her go.

It would be so simple, Amberlie thought, to tell Guy to send Tedric’s sister to him. Since she was the lady of the keep, Guy should obey her, but then again, she couldn’t remember a time when Guy or Julianne had ever listened to anything she said. Julianne considered herself to be the mistress and Guy the master. Yet she clung to the hope that Tedric would release her if he believed that she could send the girl back to him. “Your sister has come to no harm,” she hastily assured him. “She is quite safe. Release me, and I will beseech my kinsman to let her go.”

“Nay, my lady.”

“But … why not? You have my word.”

“I trust not a Norman’s word. Not even yours. So beg me not to release you.”

“I beg nothing of no one, certainly not of you!” she haughtily told him, and threw off his hold of her arm. She marched back to the cave without a second glance at him, but she knew he followed her.

~
~
~

For the rest of the day, Tedric personally guarded Amberlie. He realized that she might attempt an escape again, and could be successful if she wasn’t carefully watched. He blamed himself for her aborted escape that morning, acknowledging that he’d underestimated her. Certainly, she wasn’t the docile creature he’d first thought, but instead was rather fearless. At least she didn’t seem to be frightened of him, only contemptuous, and this bothered Tedric more than he cared to admit.

He’d given her simple chores to do, such as helping the women with the cooking and washing, but he very seldom was far away though he pretended to be absorbed in grooming his horse or training his men for battle. He knew what she was doing every second and to whom she spoke—not that anyone truly spoke to her, of course. The women cast cold stares in her direction, speaking only to each other, which was just as well, Tedric decided. He didn’t need Amberlie de Fontaine winning the hearts of his people—or his own heart. And if he wasn’t careful, the Norman witch was going to claim it.

Never had he intended to kiss her, or expected her to respond to him. He’d wanted to punish her for her escape attempt, to let her know that he could do what he wished to do since she was his prisoner. But he wouldn’t physically harm a woman, even one who was his enemy, and a beautiful enemy at that.