Timeless Tales of Honor (50 page)

He would not destroy a lifetime of tender feelings by attacking her like a madman. Arissa was as pure as rain, untouched by any man until this day, and he considered it a right and a privilege to be able to introduce her to the world of passion. But with every touch, every kiss, she was responding to him with unimagined abandonment and his hands were literally quaking with self-employed restraint.
Slowly
, he told himself firmly.
Slowly
.

Her breasts gave him more joy than he ever thought possible. To lose himself within the silken flesh, scented of gardenias, was beyond heaven. It was far more than he had ever dreamed possible and the more he tasted, the more he craved. More and more, he was dangerously close to spiraling into erotic oblivion.

He took a puckered nipple between his teeth and drew it out slowly, listening to Arissa pant. As if they were living, thinking entities, his hands moved down her slim waist to her legs, drawing up her surcoat with the intention of seeking the hidden flesh. Richmond was concentrating so deliberately on her breasts that he hadn't realized his hands were stroking her shapely thighs, moving to grasp her behind the knees in order to part the way for his throbbing manhood.

Abruptly, he realized his demanding deed and his head came up. Swallowing hard at his aggressive actions, his gaze found her exposed legs, looking so entirely delicious that he nearly lost every remaining ounce of restraint. The desire to latch his teeth onto a tender thigh was overpowering, but he fought it.

Arissa was watching him through half-closed lids, her cheeks flushed pink with excitement and wonder. She raked her slender white fingers through his hair.

"What is the matter? Why did you stop?"

He swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away from her beautiful legs. "I.... we must stop, Riss. I cannot go any further."

She blinked, clearing her focus and her mind. "Why not?"

He swallowed hard. "Because if we continue as we are, the inevitable will occur."

She propped herself up on her elbows, oblivious to her exposed breasts. "Inevitable? Do you mean coupling?"

He tried hard not to stare at her beautiful breasts. One look and his thin resolve would melt away. "Aye, kitten, that's exactly what I mean. This is not the place or the time."

Her brow furrowed and she sat up, pulling up the neckline on her askew bodice in an attempt to cover herself. "But why? Richmond, you said you loved me. Have you changed your mind?"

He exhaled sharply, helping her straighten her surcoat before pulling her into a crushing embrace. "Of course not, and I am furious that you would suggest such a thing. Please understand that I am trying to be considerate of you, kitten. You are very new to the realm of passion and I do not want to frighten you. We must become accustomed to one another before we move beyond."

She looked at him as if she hadn't understood a word he said. "Become accustomed to one another? What a silly notion. I have known you since I was a child."

He shook his head faintly. "Listen to me, Riss, listen to what I am saying. Clearly we know each other well. But we must truly come to understand one another in every sense of the word. We have risen to a new plane of emotion, you and I. 'Twas something I never thought to experience."

Her gaze warmed as she began to realize his point. "Nor I. I can still hardly believe that your feelings mirror my own."

He smiled gently, his injured nose aching with the action. "Somewhat of a shock to us both, I would guess. And I do not want to ruin the discovery process by bedding you like a rutting bull," his tender hands touched her face, her hair. "I want to introduce you into a world where you will learn to crave my touch, to yearn for my kiss. You will learn to need these gestures as badly as I need them from you. When we couple, I want you to understand what it is we are expressing."

She studied his face, his sincerity. A faint smile crept onto her lips. "How fortunate for me that you are so willing to be patient."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Believe me, patience is not an easy attribute where you are concerned. My instincts tell me to ravage you thoroughly, but my common sense tells me to control my raging passions. 'Twill be my pleasure to teach you the art of loving."

"But I already love you."

"And I love you. But you must be taught the most fulfilling ways to demonstrate that love. Were I to take your maidenhood from you this night, it would frighten you because you would truly have no grasp as to what is actually happening. It would be too much, too soon, too quickly. As with all other skills, lovemaking must be taught and practiced. Do you comprehend what I am telling you?"

She shrugged vaguely, her smile widening. "I think I have an idea. Already, I know I like what it is we do together."

He kissed the end of her pert nose. "And you are a brilliant, eager pupil. I simply do not want you to be angry with me for moving slowly with you. I do not want to overwhelm you."

She wrapped her arms about his neck. "Your years and years of experience have taught you that patience is a valuable asset with a woman, has it not?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Saucy wench. You remind me of my true age at every turn."

She laughed softly. "I cannot help it. You are nearly as old as Mossy."

"You are a devil. I should take you over my knee, as I have done before. You have not been spanked nearly enough."

"I was just a child then. You would spank a grown woman?"

"Absolutely."

She raised her eyebrows as if fearful of his threat. He broke into a smile and nuzzled her neck, dropping soft kisses on the tender skin. Arissa closed her eyes against his gentle attention. But thoughts of bliss and a future filled with Richmond were abruptly overshadowed by darker, more frightening visions.

Her eyes opened as sharp recollections of the cloister infiltrated her mind, as they did so often these days. But now, a sharp distaste for the life of the cloth was becoming her worst nightmare. More than mere reluctance, it was a palpable terror.

"When will you speak to my father, Richmond?" she whispered against his thick brown hair.

He paused at her pleading tone, a thousand thoughts whirling through the mists of his mind. He paused a moment in silent contemplation before meeting her gaze.

"When the time is right, kitten. You must realize that this will come as a great shock to him," he fingered a raven-colored lock. "But, most importantly, you must not become discouraged or panicked. Even if you are forced to meet your appointment with Whitby after the first of the year, which I suspect will be the case, you must not become disheartened. Know that I will come for you as soon as I can."

Her eyes misted; he could see the tears coming. "I do not want to be away from you."

He sighed regretfully. "There is nothing we can do, kitten. Your future has been planned for eighteen years and you certainly cannot expect to dissolve a matter of this importance in a few days. It will take time."

She blinked rapidly, chasing away the tears. "But you will not forget me?"

He kissed her forehead, laughing softly at the irony of the statement. "Foolishness. If I were never to see you again from this day forward, you would remain as strong and vital in my heart as you are at this moment. Never forget that, Riss. I shall always love you just as I do now until I die.”

She leaned against him, feeling his strength, his warmth, relishing in it as she always had. "I am frightened, Richmond. What if my father denies our request?"

Her head tucked underneath his chin, Richmond's smile faded as he thought on that very real possibility. Even though a denial would be of no consequence in the larger scheme of things, it would nonetheless be an obstacle to overcome. Even though Henry loved him, he simply was not of Arissa's station and that stumbling block alone would prove to be mighty.

"I can be quite convincing," he murmured after a moment. "My years and years of experience have given me much practice in the art of persuasion. If that doesn't work, I shall simply torture him into submission with my superior strength."

She giggled. "Father weighs more than you do. Surely he will be difficult to coerce should it come to a battle of strength."

Richmond thought of Henry, strong and proud, with a temper to match. Not only would it come down to a battle of strength and wills, but mortal combat was not out of the realm of possibility. Richmond could not begin to fathom how Henry was going to react to his astonishing demand.

Your primary concern in this life is the child you hold. You will guard her with your life
.

He had completed his orders too well. Not only had he protected her with his life, she had literally become his life in ways he would have never dreamed possible. She had been his destiny in every sense of the word.

"Let us keep the word battle out of this conversation," he said softly.

T
wo shrouded
figures tethered their mounts deep in the woods. The horses were frothing and sweaty, indicative of an abusive ride. But the two men who had driven the animals to the brink of collapse paid no mind to the miserable horses as they crept through the undergrowth, through the trees that opened onto the well-traveled road between Lambourn and Goring.

The thoroughfare was deserted, as they hoped. But not for long. A small party was approaching and they made haste back to the shielding protection of the trees.

"Do you have it?" the very same soldier who had been stalking Arissa at Lambourn threw back his hood, fumbling with something underneath his cloak.

The second soldier, his seasoned companion, nodded and dug about in his mail. "Aye, I got it. It was not difficult to steal with all of de Lohr's and le Bec's men watching the Stick and Ball game."

The first man drew forth a small Welsh crossbow, well-made and compact. As he loaded the dual-arrow catapult, the second soldier handed him a large strip of crimson cloth.

The first soldier smiled with satisfaction as he held up the banner. "Excellent. Henry's own tunic, Leopards of England." Quickly, he set to securing the strip of material to one of the arrows.

The second soldier peered over his shoulder. "David, I still do not understand why you had me steal the length of tunic. What are you planning?"

David, a Welsh soldier for nearly twenty years, smiled as he secured the banner. "A brilliant scheme to be rid of le Bec,” he said. “You saw how he was always near the girl. God's Blood, they were inseparable. If we want to get to Henry's bastard, then we have to be rid of his knight."

Lyle crouched down beside his comrade, scratching his head. "You still have not answered my question. What are you going to do to the de Rydal party?"

Cloth secured, David rose to his feet and Lyle with him. "Simple, really. Tad de Rydal was ousted from the celebration for injuring le Bec. In retaliation, le Bec sends some of his men to ambush his enemy," he held up the crossbow, waving the crimson standard. "Le Bec announces his vengeance for all to hear. Labeled a murderer, he’s forced to flee to London and we, my friend, are rid of him. I would suspect that by tomorrow sundown, Richmond le Bec will no longer be an obstacle and by the end of the week, Henry's bastard will be in Owen's hands."

Lyle sighed; 'twas as good a plan as any. Le Bec and the girl had been together constantly and the Welshmen had been thinking heavily on returning to Owen empty-handed when David had come up with a scheme.

Far down the road, the unmistakable sounds of horses began to permeate the air, echoing off the forest canopy. Lyle boosted David into a tree, high enough that he would have an unobstructed view of his target, yet not so high that a quick escape would be impeded. When David settled himself confidently, Lyle ducked behind a sturdy trunk.

Slowly, the de Rydal party passed through the corridor of pine. Tad was at the head of the group astride his magnificent charger. His visor was up on his helm and his expression was nothing short of hostile. Obviously, he was still smarting from being evacuated from Lambourn and, as his manner suggested, he was not taking the rejection well.

The day was beginning to wan and the tall trees were casting long shadows along the road. Tad was gazing at the path ahead, paying little if any attention to his surroundings. His mind was still back at Lambourn, dwelling on the fact that he had been deprived of a glorious evening of young women and fine food simply because Richmond le Bec had managed to place himself in the path of his moving stick.

He picked his nose as he rode, disgusted with the entire day. First came the Lady Arissa's rejection, followed by le Bec's timely arrival and subsequent challenge. Then came the archery match, which he refused to recall in detail because he had lost that contest, too. And then the Stick and Ball game, resulting in le Bec's injury.

He snorted softly with humor, wiping his finger on his tunic. He had possessed a perfect opportunity to whack le Bec across his dumb face when the man had stooped down to pick up the ball. One clean stroke, as hard as he could manage, and le Bec had gone down like a stone. Sweet, sweet revenge.

To his right, a flock of birds soared noisily into the winter sky as if suddenly startled from their branches. Tad gave them nothing more than a passing glance, still lingering on le Bec and the entire de Lohr family. He hoped he would never again be forced into the company of the Earl of Berkshire and his brood. Any father who pledged his only worthy offspring to a convent was a peculiar man, indeed.

A smile came to his lips as his charger passed under a low-lying cluster of branches. His thoughts were shifting from Lambourn to Goring Hall and a certain young serving wench that he was particularly fond of. He would be home in an hour or two and began to look forward to the evening ahead. A hot meal, a full wench, and he just might forget about the horrors of Lambourn and Richmond le Bec.

But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a searing force suddenly slammed into his shoulder. He felt himself teetering, sliding from the saddle and unable to steady himself. As a consuming pain devoured the entire right side of his body, he met the road with a hard, agonizing crunch. Somewhere, he heard yelling, the shouting of his men as they moved for cover. Indignantly, he realized that not one of them was moving to assist him.