Border Lord's Bride (9 page)

Was she right? Was he prolonging his own suffering by not accepting his past?

After the house had settled for the night, Lucius crept up the two flights of stairs to his old room. He stood in front of the partially open door. He clutched a brace of candles in his hand as grief rippled through him, one wave after another, leaving him chilled and unsettled.

He couldn't seem to make himself move forward into the chamber. He just stood there, seeing a hundred moments pass through his mind's eye. Like the time he'd won his first mock battle against Marcus…or the day Peter had been thrown from his horse and broken his collarbone…their first hunting trip together…the day he'd kissed Elizabeth…Peter's thirteenth birthday…Marcus's laughter as they told each other stories late into the night…

He forced the memories away, refusing to let them keep him trapped forever. He had to stop pretending and face whatever reality lay before him. He thrust the door wide and stepped inside. The golden glow from the candles seeped into the shadows.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he stepped further into the chamber and slowly, numbly, moved about his room, touching anything and everything in his path—the table near the bedside with the small wooden cross he kept there, a silver bowl holding a dried rabbit's foot, a shark's tooth, and three Roman coins Peter had collected and given to him as gifts over the years.

He moved to the bed and brushed the clean woolen tartan cloth covering the ticking beneath. At the window he traced his fingers over the chilled pane. It was so rare to have anything but shutters in homes such as theirs. But his father had insisted on the expensive luxury and had sent four of his men to Vienna by ship to bring a dozen leaded panes home.

For a moment, his grief swelled. It had been five years ago his father died. He missed his father, but he'd learned to live without him during the time he'd been away. He smoothed his fingers over the glass once more before turning away.

Finally, when he could no longer avoid looking at her image, Lucius brought his gaze to the portrait he'd painted of Elizabeth. His mother had insisted he learn to paint with an instructor when she'd discovered his novice attempts kept hidden in the cellar. He'd used boiled berries and bark mixed with egg whites to create his paints.

He'd painted the portrait the night after he'd found Elizabeth and Marcus kissing in the garden. "God's blood, Marcus. Why did you have to intrude where you didn't belong?"

But it wasn't the kiss that weighed him down. It was the neglect he'd assumed toward his family. Lucius shifted his gaze to the wood-beam ceiling overhead and clenched his jaw against the familiar pain. He couldn't continue this wretched cycle of sadness, grief, and guilt. He had to pull himself out of it.

What he needed were new memories of this place and the people he loved who were still very much present in his life. He drew a steadying breath. Resolved to move forward, he grabbed the brace of candles from his bedside table and headed for the door, to the one person who could help him.

Elizabeth.

Silently he crept down the stairs and to the chamber where she slept. At her door, he knocked softly. No response. He tried the latch. The door opened soundlessly and he stepped into the room.

A wedge of yellow-bright light penetrated the darkness of her chamber as he made his way to her bedside. She slept with the blankets entwined around her slender curves. At the sight of her, his body ached. Desire that had lain dormant through his years as a warrior flared to life.

"Elizabeth?" he whispered.

She startled awake. "Lucius?" She shifted the blankets to cover her body. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was smooth and husky with sleep.

"I came to ask a favor of you."

She sat up and pulled her woolen chemise up on her shoulders. "Go on," she encouraged.

He didn't really know what to say. He hadn't known since the moment she walked back into his life two days ago. And yet he'd never felt more alive than he did right now. He drew in the scent of her. "Will you go with me to the outcropping where we used to play?"

"Now?"

He nodded. "You said I needed to make new memories. I want to watch the sun rise over the grassland with you."

Her gaze narrowed on him. "Can't sleep?"

He nodded.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I'll need to dress. What if I meet you downstairs in a few moments?"

He smiled. "Thank you," he said as he set the candleholder near her bedside and removed one of the two candles. He left the room, softly shutting the door behind him. A sense of lightness came to him as he made his way downstairs to wait.

It didn't take long to saddle a horse, and riding double, they emerged into the night, heading north, away from the manor. He guided the horse toward the outcropping in the distance and looked up at the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. A soft wind crept past them and the leafless trees sparkled with their coating of frost and ice. Beneath the horse's feet, the snow had started to melt, leaving barren patches here and there across the landscape.

"I'd forgotten how beautiful the scenery is here," Lucius said.

"I imagine you've seen many wonderful things in the past few years," she replied.

He tried to recall anything that rivaled this moment and could think of none. "It's interesting how beautiful home looks when you've been away for a while."

"I'm certain that's true," she said softly.

When they arrived at the outcropping, Lucius dismounted, then offered Elizabeth his hand. "I know you're more than capable of getting off this horse yourself, but indulge me."

"Isn't that why we are here in the middle of the night?"

He chuckled and helped her down. As she slid down beside him, her cloak opened and he could feel her warmth against him. And again he hungered to feel her lying in his arms, her body entwined with his the way her bedsheets had wrapped her earlier.

His body clenched at the reminder she was his by the terms of their betrothal agreement to do with as he pleased. The knowledge was a potent elixir against his will. He couldn't pull his gaze from the temptation of her mouth. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and taste her lips. They were as dark and inviting as he remembered.

"Shall we climb to the top?" she asked, breaking into his thoughts, making him more aware of the enchantment she held him in. She withdrew two steps, but not before he noted the color in her cheeks. Even in the moonlight there was no mistaking she'd been as affected by his nearness as he was by hers.

He tied the horse's reins loosely about a nearby bush, all the while trying to force the memory of her warmth and softness from his thoughts. They were here to build memories of a different kind.

He tossed the saddlebag over his shoulder and hesitated at the sight of Elizabeth. Her hair fell free around her shoulders to her waist, wavy from the earlier braid she'd worn. Beneath the silver moonlight, she was as much the tempting siren as he'd painted her to be.

Since the moment she returned to his life, he'd been assailed by old feelings and emotions. Part of him wanted to hold her and kiss her, while the other part wanted to run as he had before, as far away from her, as fast as he could.

But he'd tried running away once, and it hadn't banished her from his thoughts. He released a heartfelt sigh. Did that mean he should hold her and kiss her instead? Was that the new memory he wanted to make here this night?

Lucius's emotions warred inside him. His intention had been merely to spend time with her—to create new memories—and yet the sight of her wild innocence, her sweet scent, the feel of her warmth were almost more than he could bear. He craved her on a level he did not understand. She filled him with more than just lust; she did things to him he'd never been able to comprehend.

"Lucius?" she asked, with sudden curiosity lighting her wide, brown eyes.

"Let's go." He reached for her hand, and together they hiked the short distance up the rocky ledge to sit atop a huge outcropping of slate.

At the top she smiled. "I remember being here as children and thinking this was the farthest I'd ever seen."

"When it's clear, you can see all the way to England from here." He cleared the ledge of the remaining snow before he set the saddlebag down and gathered wood into the center of the rock.

It wasn't long before cheery flames glowed and sparks fluttered above the fire. The crackling of the wood as it burned peppered the darkness with noise. The warmth of the bonfire pressed back the chill of the night enough so that Lucius had removed his cloak and set it on the rock beneath them.

Elizabeth sat a ways from him and reclined on her elbows against the soft fur that lined his cloak. She stared at the star-filled sky, looking as content before the fire's heat as a feline. At the sight of her, a different sort of need he hadn't felt in years suddenly consumed him. He reached for his saddlebag and withdrew a sheaf of linen and a charcoal he'd tossed inside. He spread the paper on the rock beside him. The faint scratching noise of his charcoal filled the silence.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked, turning to face him.

"Come see for yourself."

She hesitated for a moment before she stood and moved cautiously to his side. "You can't be drawing the view, because we can't see any—" She gasped and unsteadily sank to her knees beside him. "You're drawing me."

He kept his gaze fixed on the drawing, unable to see what emotion her eyes might reveal. He'd drawn her as he'd seen her by the fire. Even in only shades of black and grey he'd managed to capture the fire in her gaze, the high color in her cheek, the wild disarray of her hair.

This was not the woman he remembered from the past. She was an entirely different woman from the one he'd left five years ago.

Chapter Eight

Elizabeth stared in wonder at the drawing Lucius had created of her. The image he'd drawn was far more sensual than the painting in his chamber, although this time all her clothes were on. It was the look in her eyes that said it all.

Her breath hitched. "Lucius…" His name fell from her lips in a breathless whisper of longing.

His fingers stalled a hairbreadth above the linen. "Do you approve?"

"Aye." Their gazes met and she was enthralled by the possibilities she saw there. She knew then, as certainly as she'd ever known anything in her life, something had changed. He was no longer the young man who'd run away five years ago. The pain and regret that had been ever present in his eyes since his return was gone.

He was close enough that she could feel the silken rush of his breath against her cheek. If she leaned forward she could bring her lips into contact with his. And if she did, this time she wouldn't have the power within herself to pull away. Instead of leaning forward she found herself saying, "How do you create such details?"

He shrugged. "Images linger in my mind."

His words, however innocent, revealed so much. No wonder he had such a difficult time letting go of his memories. They were etched on his mind in a different fashion than for most people. "You should paint more," she said quietly.

"Come sit by me." He patted the empty space on the woolen cloak beside him and set his drawing aside. "We must speak."

Elizabeth's heart faltered. Was she wrong in thinking she'd seen something different in his gaze only moments before? Was that what this outing was all about, one last moment together before they would part forever?

He moved to face her. "What do you want from this arrangement between our families?"

"I want to honor the betrothal that has been negotiated. I want to save my father's reputation."

He turned to face her. "Nay, Elizabeth. That's what your father wants you to say." He frowned. "What do you want?"

She stared up at him, startled. What did she want? Could he not see that in her eyes? He was the man she'd always dreamed of. She wanted him to love her, dance with her, and laugh with her, and hold her late into the night, to embrace their children, for the two of them to grow old together. But how could she say that to him?

He reached for her hand. "Answer me, Elizabeth."

"I want you as my husband."

Before she could go on, he captured her lips, and she moaned at the taste of him. He tasted like all the things she wanted in this life and had never attained. She wanted him, she'd always wanted him, despite her engagement to another man.

A catch came to her breath as Lucius reclined into her, easing her back against the fur-lined cloak. His free hand brushed over her back and he deepened his kiss. His hand on her back delved lower, to cup her bottom and press her hips closer to his. She felt the swell of his manhood as he rocked against her.

Sensations flowed through her as every fiber of her being quivered, came alive. She curled her hand around the nape of his neck and anchored him to her. Her eyes fastened on his and something deep in her soul expanded. I am his. No matter what happened after tonight. In this moment they belonged together as one.