A Lady's Charade (Medieval Romance Novel) (11 page)

‘
Twould be a shame for such beauty to go to the block.

He stared at her intently. Her eyes, a brilliant blue, stared at him. Until then she’d always appeared meek, but now her eyes locked with his and their gazes mingled in a hot battle for control. Again he was struck with how not all was as it appeared. He nodded to her as he turned away, disturbed by his feelings. He didn’t know how long he was going to be able to go along with her charade.

He hated her for humiliating him, but at the same time, he had a white hot desire burning for her in his blood. Images of her lush body sprawled on a great oak table as he feasted on all of her delicious parts… Bent over the bed, her bottom high and waiting for his entry… On top of him, riding him, breasts pressed to his cheeks… His cock jumped to attention, begging for his fantasies to come true. Lord, if he didn’t have her soon… Best he seek out the easy little maid who when taken from behind resembled his little peasant bride. But he couldn’t. The maid wasn’t who he wanted. He wanted Chloe.

He looked back one more time to the wench. She was still gazing at him. What were her thoughts? Was she thinking the same thing as he? He laughed,
not likely!
Alexander wanted to go to her, take her in his arms, and kiss the truth out of her. He needed to know for sure. He didn’t want to put her to death. He’d rather keep her for more recreational purposes.

Maybe it would be better if he never knew. Then he could seduce her to his liking. It wouldn’t be the first time a lord had taken a peasant as his mistress.

Before he could continue his thoughts, he found himself flying backward, literally and figuratively. As he landed
again
on his rear the result of a cheap shot from his opponent, he could hear her throaty laughter from above.

Chapter Eight

Dear Lord, forgive me for my sinful, lust-filled thoughts.

Crossing herself, Chloe entered the stables and easily located Harold, the steward. He was the tall thin, slightly balding man she had seen in the great hall. She felt for the poor stable boy Harold was shouting at about putting a saddle on a horse the wrong way. She could see why the lad may have trouble. The horse was a large black destrier which did not want to be tamed. It had to be Lord Hardwyck’s horse, for his demeanor was very similar to the one she had encountered in the great hall. The stable master stood in the background silently, his expression blank of thought.

“Harold, sir?”

The older man inclined his head in her direction. His brown eyes looked down a long thin nose, as they flicked up and down, studying her from head to toe. He pursed his thin lips and then turned back to the boy, not even giving her confirmation he was indeed Harold.

“Begging your pardon, I am looking for Harold, the steward?” The man looked back at her again, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Lord Hardwyck sent me,” she added, hoping to appease him. She knew the way she spoke to him was out of place, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer and refused to be ignored.

Announcing she’d been sent by Lord Hardwyck did grab his attention, for this time he did look on her with different eyes. Irritation still lurked behind them, but he at least nodded to her, verifying he was the one she sought.

“One moment, miss.” He turned back to the boy and continued his instruction.

Chloe took that as permission to peruse the stable. The number of horses was impressive; destriers, palfreys, coursers. She supposed a knight needed many horses, but perhaps they were not all his. Maybe he kept some of his men’s horses here as well. She knew knights had one favorite war horse they used for every battle. They spoke to each other, knew and trusted each other.

She picked up a handful of oats and let a pretty mare nibble from her palm. One of the palfrey’s along the opposite wall whinnied. He must be jealous. She stifled a laugh, and walked over to offer some love to the friendly horse in need of attention. She missed her horses at home. Although her father’s collection was not nearly so vast, it was tremendous, and she’d been allowed to ride many of the horses, although she did have her favorite.
Desi
. Riding Desi had been one of her favorite things to do during the day. It gave her peace of mind. How she would miss that dear little mare.

Gazing at the horses, she wondered if she’d ever ride again.

Lord Hardwyck’s collection of horses was amazing. He was definitely a collector. All of the horses’ stalls were in mint condition. It was obvious from the condition of the stables, the horses’ perfectly groomed coats, the saddles and tackle neatly hung on the walls, the horse master cared a great deal about his charges.

Walking to the tackle wall, her gaze caught a beautiful leather side saddle. Carvings were intricately done in the leather, with gold trim along the edges. It was the epitome of feminism. She ran her hands along the saddle, the smooth leather like a caress against her fingertips. Chloe longed to put it on one of the beautiful horses and go for a ride. She’d never had a saddle as stunning as this one.

“I see you found Harold.” The familiar voice of Lord Hardwyck intruded on her thoughts.

Chloe whipped around to face him. His height nearly reached the top of the doorway, as he leaned casually against it, his arms crossed over his chest, one ankle hooked over the other. She was again aware of how impressive his size was…and how utterly masculine. Her body of its own volition responded to the sight of him, gooseflesh sprinkled its way up her arms, and her breaths came quick and shallow. From the way his eyes bored into hers, she was sure he knew just how her body misbehaved. Embarrassment at her thoughts raced through her causing heat to rise in her chest and travel up her neck until it burned her cheeks. She curtsied in his direction, hoping to hide the effect he had on her.

“Yes, my lord. I uh…I was just admiring your collection of horses,” she said, still startled at his sudden appearance and what it had done to her.

“Thank you.” He turned from her. “Harold, would you see to it Miss Chloe gets some decent clothes?” When he looked back at her, disdain was etched in his features.

Her blush deepened, and all she could do was pray she’d evaporate from the heat of her own mortification. She knew her attire wasn’t pleasant to look at it, but did he have to act so disgusted?

“Yes, my lord. Come Chloe. Let’s get you out of that wretched garb,” Harold answered, walking toward her after dismissing the stable boy.

She stole one last look at Lord Hardwyck, and caught something in his gaze that was anything but scorn. His eyes held a light she hadn’t seen before, a hunger. He let his gaze linger, his brow arching in sensual appreciation. When she blushed through to her toes, he turned away, leaving the stable with Harold in his wake. She followed them out, completely perplexed. How could he look at her with such an obvious dislike one moment and then lust the next?

****

Alexander walked briskly toward the keep, his steward in his wake, and the subject of his thoughts not far behind.

He’d watched, unobtrusively, from the doorway of the stable as Chloe fingered the ornate side saddle he’d made for his future bride. He wanted to watch what she did while alone, unobserved. Would she make a slip? Reveal who she was? Her entire manner, elegant voice, and graceful movements, spoke volumes already. What more would she display to him? The look of longing in her eyes as she lovingly caressed the saddle revealed more than words. He could tell she liked the saddle, wanted to sit upon it, feel the wind against her skin as she raced along a field, a horses flanks beneath her. He was again assailed with vexation that she wouldn’t just admit to him her identity. He would be more than happy to grace her with the saddle, wouldn’t he?
Not just the saddle…

Horses and riding were a great passion of his, and he’d hoped his new bride would enjoy them with him. Perhaps appreciate such a resplendent saddle. It was apparent from watching her that Chloe also held a great passion for the animals. He was sure of it when he watched the glint in her eyes, the way she whispered and nuzzled them. A fleeting thought of her whispering in his ear, nuzzling his neck as she straddled his cock on top of one of his horses, crossed his mind, and for a moment something stronger than desire seized his chest. If his suspicions were true, the saddle was hers, and he was glad she liked it.

He would have her ride with him in the morning. With whatever charade she was playing at she would probably come up with a reason not to, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Hell, he was lord here. He shouldn’t have to coax anyone to do his bidding.

Her ruse confused him. From speaking with her and observing her, it was obvious she was not who she claimed. Her mannerisms were of someone born to privilege and shown the finer things in life.

Alexander clenched and unclenched his fists, forcing himself to keep walking, not to turn around, reach for her, throw her over his shoulder and carry her straight up to his chamber.

He’d been unable to hide his aching look of yearning from her when she gazed at him, and had quickly rearranged his features to something fierce. He didn’t want her to know how she drew him to her, how the sight of her made him forget his duties. Already his men and other servants, no doubt, thought him odd for having this strange commoner come to live and work amongst them. And as his chatelaine of all things! Even now he’d left the training of his men only to watch her. There was no need for him to come and tell Harold about the clothes, for he’d already mentioned it to him earlier, as well as instructing the girl to ask.

Damn!
He was losing his mind.

Why the hell was she trying to deceive him anyway? Did she think him that horrible? Maybe he’d let her keep it up a little longer, it might be fun to watch her squirm a little.

Alexander picked up his speed as he walked back to his men, his steps large and wide. He could feel her behind him, staring at him, her eyes watching his every move. She had been so careful until she reached the stables. Despite his annoyance at her charade, he longed to take her in his arms, smother her with his mouth, taste the honey lips that teased his thoughts, and claim what he wanted. His body churned with lust. Even in her terrible clothes, her dirty face and unkempt hair, he yearned for her, yet he knew not why. He gritted his teeth in frustration.

He was definitely going to have her go for a ride with him in the morning. He’d tell her they were going to look around Hardwyck village and the rest of the holding. He would get to spend more time with her, study her more, make her feel comfortable and just maybe give her a little taste of her own medicine. He needed to think of this like he would any other battle—only without weapons. This was a battle of minds. The only thing he needed to figure out was if his assault would be quick and deadly or slow and agonizing.

He imagined her on her knees begging forgiveness for running from him. But then the thought of her on her knees brought about other imaginings. Thoughts that clouded his vision, and made his body react in a way it shouldn’t when facing his knights. He shook his head, and headed for his men at a near run. He swore to himself he wasn’t running from her. No, he just needed a good fight to get these thoughts out of his head. Hell, she had only been at the keep a couple of hours and already he was losing control.

****

Chloe watched as Lord Hardwyck quickened his pace to get away from her. He must think she was so disgusting he couldn’t get away fast enough. She frowned, and couldn’t believe she was
that
overly horrid. Yes, it had been awhile since she’d had a real bath, but she’d washed some of the dinginess away early in the morning. However, putting herself in his shoes, she might do the same thing. She was sure she had when a particularly smelly servant entered the great hall at South Hearth.

Imaginations of Lord Hardwyck dressed in peasant garb with a dirty face, while she stood regal in front of him made her laugh out loud. Harold turned, giving her a puzzled look, and she hastily contained herself, pointing to the crowd, as if she’d seen something funny. Harold only shook his head at her. Chloe bowed her head, reminding herself once again she needed to have better command of her reactions. With the mistakes she’d made already today, there was no telling what would happen by the end of a week.

She’d be in the tower for sure if she kept this up. Lord Hardwyck was a mighty fierce man. The way he scowled at her constantly and the way he questioned her at every turn, made her palms sweat. He had his doubts about her, and she didn’t want to get on his bad side. She schooled a look of stone onto her face, and continued to follow Harold to the tailor’s cottage.

When they walked through the door, the working women looked up and the tailor himself hurried from his duties to see about Harold’s orders.

“Jack, this is the new chatelaine, Miss Chloe. She is in need of a decent gown as soon as possible.” He eyed her current state of dress, not having to tell the tailor why a new gown was imperative.

With Harold’s words, Jack scrutinized her as well, giving her the same odd look she’d been receiving since her arrival. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she averted her eyes, only to find another set of gawkers. Why didn’t her cheeks just retain the pinkish hue? She’d blushed more times this morning than she probably had her whole life.

The women openly gaped at her. One had the same wispy grey gold hair as Nicola. For a moment she thought it might have been her maid, until the woman turned, and she saw it was not. Chloe bit the inside of her cheek and forced the ready tears to dissipate. She offered warm smiles to the women hoping to soften their demeanors. The women smiled back and offered her words of welcome.

“Harold, sir, we have a gown already prepared that might suit her needs for the time being,” Jack said waving to one of the women.