Lady of Fire (22 page)

"Sweet," he whispered as he lifted his head to return to her mouth for a long, searching kiss. Her fingers restlessly traced the length of his strong, muscular back, and then dug into his shoulders when his mouth sought the sensitive hollow of her throat. The heat and strength of his body diffused into hers, overwhelming her with a mindless need for closeness. Rational thought ceased as her body eagerly responded to his.

"I've loved you for so long, Lea," he breathed when at last he lifted his head to search her face. Her eyes were still closed, but the low moan that escaped as she moved restlessly beneath him told him that her passion matched his own. Her hands crept to caress the thick blond hair and to draw him back to her mouth. Instinctively her lips parted, allowing him full possession of the warm, moist depths. His tongue edged her teeth, exploring the sharp edges, before plunging to discover the taste of her. Her body was alive beneath him, twisting and rubbing against his aching manhood.

This time, when he left her mouth, it was to move lower, tracing hotly along her neck and throat, and then down over her collarbone to the soft, velvety flesh just above the rounded neckline of her undershift. Murmuring incoherently, she tried to draw him again to her lips. His hand pushed the shift off one shoulder to reveal the perfectly mounded breast. Cupping it, he bent his head lower to taste, to lick, to tease, until the rosy nipple hardened into a button. She gasped at the strange, wonderful sensation that flooded over her when he began to suck, and arched her back beneath his weight to demand more.

Roger's heart, body, and soul urged—nay,
demanded
—the union of his dreams. Experience and instinct told him she wanted to yield—to receive him and give him what he wanted now. He grasped the shift and began working it up from her knees. Laying his head on her breast, his ear over her pounding heart, he delighted in the revealing of her body. She was even more perfect in the flesh than he'd imagined. His hand caressed the soft silk of her skin along her thigh as he eased his body away just enough to get her shift out of the way. She moaned softly as his fingers brushed along the inside of her leg upward to the soft hair. Her leg splayed outward, opening to him, and her breath came in great harsh rushes.

Her whole body shuddered when he touched the wet down, and she rocked against him instinctively, striving for an unknown but promised ecstasy. She could not draw back from the indescribable pleasure of his touch—every inch of her body cried out for him.

With his free hand he pulled at his chausses until the ties loosened and gave way. He rolled over her to press himself against where his fingers had caressed her, and clasped her hips beneath his.

She gasped and stiffened with shock at the feel of him. With a heavy groan he rolled off her and fought to control his raging need. Gulping for air, he rasped, "Sweet Jesu, but I want you, Lea, but 'tis not the time."

She blinked in bewilderment and then was overcome with shame and humiliation. As she stared at his aroused body, the realization that she'd nearly played the harlot filled her with conflict, anger, and selfloathing. Roger, shaken to the core with his own painful emotions, reached out to her. She pushed him away frantically, her eyes dilated in horror, and scrambled wildly on her hands and knees away from him. In agony he lurched to his feet and stumbled after her.

"Mother Mary!" she panted as she gained her balance and turned away to pull down the shift. "Jesu, brother!" Her face flamed and her whole body shook uncontrollably.

"Lea—" He reached to grasp her shoulder, but she jerked free of him and spun around.

She stared hard for a moment, remembering her reaction to him, and then burst into tears. "Nay, do not come closer!" she cried. "Sweet Mary, but you would have taken me! And… and I would have let you—nay, I
wanted
you to!"

"Lea—" He tried to catch her again, but she backed away from him blindly. "Lea, 'tis not what you think!"

"Stay away from me!" The tears streamed down her face unchecked. "Brother, we would have sinned!" With a wrenching sob she turned and would have run back toward the abandoned church.

"Nay, Lea!" He caught her and held her while she kicked and sobbed hysterically to get away from him. " 'Tis not as you think—I share no blood of yours!" When she would have jerked free, he held fast. "Turn around and look at me, Lea! 'Tis the truth—Gilbert is not my father!" He turned her around by her shoulders and held her there, willing her to look at him. For a few moments she was silent and his words seemed to hang between them in the air. The color drained from her face and she raised her eyes to stare numbly at the man she'd loved all her life as her brother. Roger felt as though his heart had stopped beating. "Aye," he told her simply, "you are not my sister, Lea."

"Then everything has been a lie," she mumbled tonelessly.

"Nay." He searched her face soberly and sighed. "That day that William came to Nantes, Lea…'twas that day my mother told me. I was ashamed to be a coward's son, and she said 'twas not so—that I had no shame for the blood in my veins, that Gilbert was not my father." He dropped his hands and stepped back to retie his chausses. "I wanted to tell you then, Lea, but my mother would not have it—she loved you and did not want you to think her a whore. Then when Lady Mary died and I knew you were going to the convent, I couldn't tell you."

"And all we have lived since than has been a lie," she repeated dully.

"I have never lied about loving you, Lea."

"But all those years you let me think—"

"Aye, but 'twas the only way. Think on it, Lea—think you that I could have ever seen you again had it been known that I was not your brother?" He reached to lift her chin gently. "Look at me, Lea. Ever have I loved you, I swear. I gave you my heart that morning when I swore my oath to you in the chapel at Nantes. Remember that? Aye, I knew we were not related then and I was glad—glad that maybe someday the lord that came for you would be me. It was ever my intent to make my way with my sword—to rise high enough that I could ask for you."

"But Belesme—"

"But Belesme came first and then I had not the time. I could wait no longer, Lea, for if you went to Belesme, there was naught for me. I love you—I would wed with you and keep you safe all the days of my life. Lea, you have ever said you loved me."

"Aye," she whispered finally from the hollow ache in her throat, "but not like this, Roger. I have loved you as my brother."

"Have you?" When she dropped her eyes and was silent, he forced her chin up again. "Nay, love, I think you want me too—I know it. Had I not stopped just now, we would have lain together." He watched her redden again and whisper, "We would have sinned," and he shook his head. "Nay—not if we love each other and are wed. 'Tis not an easy thing, I know, to defy Belesme and Curthose and Gilbert, but we can do it."

"Nay, I… I cannot—oh, Roger, I am so confused! 'Tis not right!"

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, holding her against his bare shoulder. "It is right, Lea, if you love me." His hand smoothed the wet tangles that still dripped down her back.

"Roger, I cannot wed with you—I cannot!" she wrung out. With a sob, she turned her head against his flesh and clung miserably to him.

His own emotions strained nearly to the breaking point, he held her closer and let her cry until he could stand it no longer. Resolutely he set her back enough to look at her. "I can wait, Lea, as long as I know you love me."

"Roger—"

"Do you?"

"Aye, but not—"

Before she realized what he meant to do, he drew her into his arms again and bent to brush his lips against her. One of his hands twined in her hair and the other slid lightly down her back and over the curve of her hip. She knew he could feel the tremor that ran through her. His breath was warm, alive, and inviting. When he finally released her, her knees wanted to buckle and she had to clutch at him for balance.

"You never could lie to me, Lea," he told her bluntly.

"You don't understand!"

"Nay, I do not. Can it be that my bastardy stands between us? Mayhap 'tis fine to have a bastard for brother but not for husband." He shook free of her and started back toward the church.

"Nay!" She stood rooted to the ground for a moment and then ran after him, catching his arm and holding it to stop him. " 'Tis unfair, Roger! 'Twas I that defended you all those years! You have naught to be ashamed of for bastardy. Men look up to you and call you Bastard like they did the Conqueror—they say 'How stands the Bastard?' like 'tis a title." She hugged his arm against her body and looked up, her face pleading for understanding.

"All right," he sighed finally, "I've waited seven years, Lea—another few months cannot make that much difference."

They walked back across the road in silence, each sorting out his own inner turmoil. For Roger, it was bittersweet relief to finally have his feeling for Eleanor out in the open. He'd not meant for her to discover it like that and he'd not meant to get carried away with his own desire. Nay, he could not just take her and live with the consequences—not when he knew not how it all would end with Belesme. Years ago, when he was still but a boy at Nantes, he'd promised himself that none should suffer as he and his mother had over his own illegitimate birth. Nay, when he took Lea, it would be honorably and the marriage would be witnessed first.

For Eleanor, the confusion was almost unbearable. All those years, her savior, her champion, her one link with the rest of the world, had deceived her. He'd given her a pride in her blood that had been false—she was Gilbert's daughter and not Roger's sister. Aye—all those times that his exploits on the battlefield and his rise in fortune had brought her status among the nuns, she had not really shared in his glory after all, for they were not of the same blood. She'd loved him so. Her thoughts turned toward those moments just past in the spring and in the grass, and her face flushed in humiliation. The way he'd made her feel… the places he'd touched—

"Ah, Lea," he broke into her thoughts and put a reassuring arm about her shoulder, " 'tis all right. 'Twill all come about—you'll see."

"Roger, what happens to us now?" she choked out, unable to bear her loss.

"Nothing has changed—we still have to escape Belesme."

"But the Condes… your other lands—I have no right—"

"They mean nothing to me without you, Lea," he cut in soberly. "It isn't just Robert, either. Once I tried to convince myself that I could bear it if you went to Henry, but I couldn't. When I saw you in his arms at Nantes, I wanted to kill him. For me, it is you or none—but I am willing to wait."

"And Marie—"

" 'Twas only you who spoke of Marie," he reminded her. "I spoke only of you." He dropped his arm and searched in the packs, pulling out a clean undershift and a faded green gown. "Here—you can go behind the wall and put these on. When you are done, I'll help you work your hair."

She took the clothing and walked to where he'd pointed. Out of his sight, she slowly took off the wet shift and looked down at her body as though seeing it for the first time. Her fingertips traced the nipples of her breasts while she remembered the feel of his mouth. Her whole body tensed and tautened at the memory of his kisses, his touch, his body against hers. He was right—she'd wanted him like she'd never wanted anything before. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it wouldn've been like if he had not come to his senses and stopped. She could still see how he looked standing there, his body ready, and that gave her pause as she wondered if he would have hurt her. She'd heard the serving wenches talking when she was a child at Nantes, and some claimed to loathe it when they were taken to bed by the men of the castle. But she'd wanted it to happen. If only she were not Mary de Clare's daughter and accursed.

"Lea, are you dressed?"

Roger came around the corner and stopped, staring for a moment and then dropping his eyes. "Your pardon, Lea, but you'd been here long enough that I thought…" His voice trailed off.

"I was looking at myself, Roger." Her face flamed even as she admitted it. "I wanted to see what it was that made you and Belesme look at me like that."

He kept his eyes on the ground and drew in his breath sharply. "Jesu, Lea!"

"What is it?"

"I don't know, Lea. I've looked at many women's bodies, and all I can tell you is that when I look on you, naked or clothed, it is different." He turned his back and took another deep breath for control. "Jesu, why do you do this to me? Do you want to punish me for what I would have?"

"No"—she shook her head—"but I would know." She hastily picked up her clean shift and pulled it over her head. Coming up behind him, she laid a timid hand on his shoulder, burning him. "I did not mean to anger you."

He jerked away from her touch. "I am not angry, Lea, but I am just a man, after all, and not a saint."

"Roger—" Her pulse raced and her body felt the nearness of his. "If… if it is what you truly want—if it means so much to you…" She took a deep breath and moved closer. "I mean…" Her voice dropped to a near-whisper as she touched him again. "If you want, I will lie with you."

In spite of the lowness of her voice, every word burned into his consciousness. He spun around to face her. She bit her lip nervously and waited, watching him with enormous dark eyes. "Aye"—she nodded under his questioning gaze.

It was a long time before he could bring himself to answer her. "Nay," he answered finally, " 'tis not the time."

"Roger—"

"Lea, why do you think I stopped out there? I want to wed with you in Holy Church with witnesses so none can say 'tisn't so. I was a fool out there. What if you were to conceive and something happened to me? 'Twould be said you were my leman and the child a bastard—I could not bear that. I saw what happened to my mother and to me. Nay, Lea, if you will but pledge to wed with me, I can wait."

She shook her head. "I cannot."

"Jesu, Lea, you can lie with me but not wed with me? God's teeth, girl! 'Tis nonsense!"

"But out there—"