The Countess (14 page)

'Twas a game of power and one artfully played.

While he hovered on the threshold, feeling large, male and unkempt, Eglantine donned a fur-lined cloak and a pair of gloves wrought of finest leather. “I would have you show me all of Ceinn-beithe,” she said with a sweetness he knew better than to trust.

This composed creature might have been a stranger. Even her features seemed unfamiliar, her expression so demure that she might have been the twin of his countess. She might have been a woman cursed with ice in her veins.

Duncan blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

The lady gave undue attention to her gloves. “I assume you can ride? I have ordered a steed saddled for you, as well as my own palfrey.” She met his gaze, her own sharp with challenge. “I assume you have no issues with this.”

She had a scheme, of that Duncan was certain. Though he was curious, he was more interested in how her scheme meshed with his own. He had pledged to seduce the lady and truly, there were better places to do so than within her camp.

He smiled, knowing his expression was predatory. “I should be delighted to show you
my
Ceinn-beithe.”

And then she surprised him again. “Your specific claim to Ceinn-beithe will be moot when you wed Alienor.”

She brushed past him, leaving him standing with his mouth open in shock. She had the manner of a woman who has resolved everything to her own satisfaction.

Duncan charged after her. “What nonsense is this?”

“You need not look so astonished, 'tis perfectly good sense.” Eglantine smiled at him as sweetly as a Madonna and continued to argue her case. “Now bite your tongue. I shall not discuss the matter before my vassals.”

The woman was naught if not determined.

Duncan was so angered by Eglantine's presumption that he needed time to find words for his outrage. In other circumstance, he might have been amused by the lady's underestimation of his response, but now, he was at such a loss for words, he who always had a glib reply. They rode in strained silence, their steeds climbing the low roll of hills that buttressed the land to the east.

Then Duncan knew precisely where he would take her. He seized the reins of her palfrey and touched his heels to the flanks of the steed she had shared with him.

“What are you doing?”

Duncan said naught but rode.

“As you can undoubtedly appreciate, this course makes perfect sense,” Eglantine declared with crisp efficiency, obviously taking his silence for some measure of agreement. “If our families are united, then this tedious competition...”

“It makes
no
sense,” Duncan interrupted, speaking somewhat more loudly than strictly necessary.

Eglantine blinked but was typically was untroubled by his volume. “Of course, 'tis somewhat of a surprise to you, but should you pause to consider the advantages...”

Duncan glared at her. “There are no advantages to be had in wedding a child!”

Eglantine cleared her throat gently. “Alienor is eight and ten years of age. She is a woman fully...”

Duncan snorted. “She is a ungrateful wretch of a child with naught good to recommend her character.”

Eglantine's eyes widened at his blunt assessment. Then she smiled, the way she leaned forward to pat his forearm in such maternal fashion doing naught to aid matters. “I think perhaps that in your surprise at my generous offer, you underestimate Alienor's assets. She can be somewhat temperamental, but I would think that a man of your nature would appreciate her honesty.”

“A barbarian is what you mean,” Duncan corrected, his anger rising with every word she uttered.

Eglantine laughed beneath her breath, a winsome twinkle appearing in those green depths. Desire joined Duncan's simmering anger and coaxed it the boil.

How could she conclude that she could chart the course of his life, that she could conveniently be rid of him by saddling him with Alienor, the most unwelcome bride any man could find in his bed?

Duncan gritted his teeth, inclined to be anything but convenient.

“One never doubts Alienor's desire certainly, but she is young and beautiful and not too old to bear a son for a man of such a position as yourself.”

“She is but a child!” Duncan roared. He coaxed his horse to a gallop and hers was compelled to match his pace since he yet held her reins.

“There is no need to shout and alarm the horses....”

“There is every need to shout!” Duncan halted the horse in a small clearing, then bounded from his saddle. Eglantine regarded him from her saddle like a queen, shocked at the outspoken manner of a minion. “How dare you imagine that you could rid yourself of that selfish creature by foisting her upon me!”

“I had thought you might be of like mind.”

“You thought wrongly! I have no lust for children, no desire for women who think only of themselves, and no interest in blushing virgins who come unwillingly to bed!”

Eglantine rolled her eyes. “I hardly think that Alienor could be considered reluctant to rid herself of her virginity,” she said with a touch of the incisiveness he had come to expect from her.

The very glimpse of the Eglantine he knew vastly encouraged Duncan. “But I shall not do the deed!” he cried. “You may find another hapless fool to do your bidding in this!”

Eglantine's eyes flashed and she too dismounted, her own words rising in volume. “'Tis not a case of doing my bidding, but of finding a suitable solution for all.”

“This solution does not suit me!”

“Well, perhaps it should!” Eglantine shouted back. “Perhaps you are a witless fool, after all! What manner of man would refuse a noble bride, a young beauty like Alienor? What manner of fool would choose dissent over peace?”

Duncan was sorely tempted to give her a shake. “A man who knows what he wants, no more than that.”

“Aye?” Eglantine, unafraid, tilted her chin in challenge. “And what is it that you want, Duncan MacLaren? What lofty ambition have you that Alienor is not good enough to fulfill?” She flung out her hand. “Tell me what good reason you might have to spurn this fine offer?”

Though he appreciated that he could shout without Eglantine fleeing like a startled hare, in this moment Duncan was irritated that she paid so little attention to his anger. He let his voice drop low and noted the answering flicker in her eyes with satisfaction.

And something else. She caught her breath but did not step away from him.

“Let me make myself understood, my lady Eglantine,” he growled. “I have seen one commanded to wed to suit another's convenience once already in this life, and I will not be part of such a plan again.”

She was blessedly silent, her gaze fixed upon him. Aye, he had her full attention. Duncan liked that Eglantine did not flinch. He liked her trust and he liked her bravery. He caught her elbows in his hands, lifted her to her toes and drew her closer, liking the heat that dawned in her eyes.

“A wise man learns from error, Eglantine,” Duncan purred. “If ever I wed, 'twill be solely for my desire and convenience.”

“How like a man,” she whispered. “To wed solely to sate his lust.”

“How like you to twist all I say into what 'tis not.”

Eglantine arched a brow, inviting him to explain, the wary light in her eyes telling him she expected little persuasive.

Duncan smiled despite himself, her response dismissing his temper. He let his thumbs move across the smooth wool of her kirtle, let his palms slide up her arms to cup her shoulders, and leaned close enough that he could hear her catch her breath.

“If ever I wed, my lady Eglantine, 'twill be to a woman without whom I cannot draw a breath, a woman who had laid claim to my heart, a woman from whom I cannot bear to be parted.”

Her lips quirked. “And you shall cast her over your shoulder in good barbarian fashion.”

“I shall woo her, until there is naught in her heart but me.”

Eglantine swallowed visibly as she stared up at him. “Then woo Alienor,” she suggested, her voice catching on the words.

Duncan let his gaze drift to her lips and he flexed his fingers as he drew her closer. She caught her breath, her lips parting, and he knew with sudden clarity what he did want. “Nay, Eglantine,” he whispered, his lips a finger's breadth from her own. “I cannot woo Alienor. 'Twould be far too simple to live without her presence.”

Eglantine almost laughed. “You and your whimsy. Tell me where you will find a bride of finer birthright, of more noble lineage, of more beauty than Alienor?”

Duncan smiled, the word rising to his lips with such ease that he knew 'twas the truth. “Here.”

Duncan felt Eglantine shiver when he claimed her lips with his. He hauled her against his chest, lifting her to her toes. 'Twas no gentle salute he offered this time, but a kiss demanding her surrender, a kiss demanding that she loose the passion he knew slumbered within her.

And 'twas but a moment before the lady leaned against him. She opened her mouth to him and Duncan did not need to be invited twice. Duncan's heart pounded in triumph and he tasted her fully, loving how she met him touch for touch. He discarded her veil impatiently, marveling at how finely she was wrought even as he pushed one hand through the thick silk of her hair.

She was magnificent.

He claimed her lips hungrily again. Duncan did not know whether he had provoked her into showing her true desire, or whether she twisted him to her own purposes. He was provoked enough himself that he did not care.

And neither, it seemed, did Eglantine. Her slender hands were in his own hair, her fingertips running over his face, her tongue between his teeth. 'Twas as though a storm had been unleashed, the passion he had glimpsed afore compelling her to seize her share of pleasure.

Duncan was only too happy to aid in that pursuit. His blood was thundering, his body was hard. And 'twas no lie that he desired this woman. He kissed Eglantine's cheek, her eyelids, her temple, her ear, anxious to sample her everywhere. He nuzzled her throat, kissing her in that achingly soft place beneath her ear and the lady moaned. Eglantine twisted her tongue in Duncan's ear, her breathless gasp of his name enough to drive him wild.

With only one thought, he swept her into his arms and made for the crumbling structure that had been his destination. “The horses,” she whispered, but he shook his head.

“They are not stupid enough to flee.” He smiled crookedly for her. “And if they are, you are better without them.”

“What is this place?”

“A chapel built by a hermit monk, some five centuries ago.” He ducked beneath the low sill of the stone doorway, blinking at the darkness within. “'Tis dry here and sheltered from the wind.” The ceiling was low, compelling him to crouch as he balanced Eglantine on his knees. 'Twas no bigger than a noble's bed within, but 'twould more than do.

He smiled. “'Tis unfortunate the pelt of the wolf is not yet cured.”

“'Tis but squirrel,” she said huskily, loosening her cloak and revealing the fur lining. “But perhaps 'twill do.”

The confirmation of her willingness was more than he expected. Duncan caught Eglantine's nape in one hand, holding her close, his fingers buried in the soft shimmer of her hair. His other hand caressed the length of her, her curves pressed against him from shoulder to toe. She made a cry in her throat when he found her nipple and arched when he rolled that peak between his finger and thumb.

Her lips parted and her lashes fluttered against his cheek as he cupped her breast in his hand. He bent and grazed his teeth across the peak, and she shivered, his touch clearly penetrating the wool of her kirtle.

'Twas not enough.

He broke his kiss to study Eglantine, noting her shining eyes, reddened lips and flushed cheeks. He caught his breath that her gaze was fixed wonderingly upon him and indeed, he wondered what she saw that filled her eyes with marvel. Her breath came quickly and she held his gaze as he coaxed that nipple to a tighter peak with finger and thumb.

He drew back to watch her and was astounded only now that she had permitted him such familiarity. Desire coursed thick and hot through Duncan's veins. He would be the next between her thighs, of that he was certain.

Though the lady would agree to it first.

“You lied to me, Eglantine,” he murmured.

“Nay,” she insisted, her gaze unswerving.

“Aye.” Duncan whispered. “In this moment, you do indeed owe me aye or nay.”

It nigh killed him to wait, to feel her softness beneath him, to know that he could coax her with his touch to submit, to be convinced that without consent, she was not his to take.

But wait, Duncan did.

But the lady had already labeled him a savage and he would not prove her aright. He would not take more than she offered. His thumb did move persuasively across her taut nipple, 'twas true, as though his touch alone would coax her to cede all. Her breathing caught and Duncan was not above using all advantage to his side.

Eglantine studied him for a moment that seemed to stretch through eternity, her pulse pounding beneath his hand.

Then she abruptly gripped his neck and pulled him closer, offering her lips and the sweet curve of her throat. Characteristically, the lady made her choice and did not linger over the decision.

“Aye,” she whispered hoarsely against his flesh. “God help me for my weakness, but I can say naught else.”

Duncan claimed her lips, even as awe flooded through him. He had asked her for honesty, but never expected this much.

He had no intent of giving Eglantine the opportunity to reconsider.

* * *

Eglantine told herself that ceding to Duncan was the only way to ensure his surrender of Kinbeath. Aye, he had but one interest, the interest of a man seeking conquest, and once he had sated his desire, he would be gone.

She did not truly believe it. She did not want to consider her own weakness, her own burden of desire, certainly not her growing sense that her life was wrought of responsibility alone.