Connie Mason (4 page)

“Lady Mariah, are you all right?”

“I am fine, Sir Knight.”

Falcon didn’t think she was fine. She looked flustered and breathless. Had his touch done that to her? Touching a woman felt natural to him, as if he had done this and more in the past. He felt a stirring in his loins and suddenly realized something about himself. He was a sexual creature who enjoyed women.

How did he know that?

“Did you remember something?” Mariah asked.

“Aye.” He touched her cheek again, only this time he trailed his fingers over her chin to her throat, and then drifted lower, outlining the curve of her breast. “Caressing you made me recall that I am accustomed to touching women and being touched by them.”

She stared at him. Was he attracted to her? Or was he the kind of man who used women to sate his lust and discarded them at will? Could a man with no memory feel lust?

She stood and backed away. “I’ll check on you later.”

“I need something to wear. If I don’t leave this bed soon, I will never regain my strength. Perhaps if I leave this chamber, I will encounter something or someone to trigger my memory.”

Mariah took measure of his length and the width of his shoulders. “Sir Martin’s nephew is about your size. His clothes should fit you well enough. They won’t be fancy, but you should find them adequate. If Edwina approves, I’ll send someone up to help you to the hall for the evening meal.”

Falcon sent her a lopsided smile. Her breath hitched. The man was so devastatingly handsome, she could well imagine women offering themselves to him just to see him smile. Her wicked mind wondered how it would feel to be made love to by a young man. Would a man of his size and strength be a rough lover? A selfish one?

Mariah had felt naught but mild disgust the few times Edmond had bedded her during their seven-year marriage. She had been too young to know that pleasure could be had from the act. After, Edwina had told her that women did indeed find pleasure in coupling, but Mariah remained skeptical. There was naught about Sir Knight that disgusted her, however. Could he give her the pleasure she’d been denied all these years?

Flustered, Mariah left the chamber. If she continued this line of thinking, she’d be tempted to use Sir Knight to get the heir she and Edmond needed.

Mariah sought out Edwina. She found the healer in Edmond’s chamber. “Are you feeling ill, Edmond?” Mariah asked worriedly. “I had thought you much improved.”

Edmond sent her a weak smile. “I am as usual, my love. How is our guest?”

“Eager to leave his bed. I told him I’d consult with Edwina and find him some clothes if she approved. He’s anxious to regain his strength.”

“What say you, Edwina?” Edmond asked.

“He is still weak, but I have no objection if he wishes to leave his bed.”

“Does he give any sign of regaining his memory?”

“Nay,” Mariah answered, “but I think it will return in time. Even now he experiences brief glimpses of his past. He believes he is unmarried because he feels no connection to a wife.”

“That is a good sign.” Edwina nodded sagely.

“He wants to take his evening meal with us in the hall.”

“I doubt he can manage the stairs on his own,” Edwina warned.

“I know. I’ll send someone to help him.”

Falcon tried out his legs and found they held him up better than the last time he had attempted to stand. He gazed down at himself and grimaced. He had so many bruises, there was scarcely a place on him that wasn’t purple, yellow or a combination of both. He did feel stronger, however, and his appetite had improved.

Falcon looked forward to dining with his host and the people of Mildenhall tonight. He held high hopes that someone would recognize him and give him his past back. Falcon took several tentative steps and felt strong enough to pace the chamber. So far, so good, he thought. It wouldn’t be long before he could leave Mildenhall to search for his identity.

That thought brought another. Mariah. Each day he became more and more attracted to her, as if pulled in her
direction by invisible strings. His healing body had become aware of her in the most elemental way. After their encounter today, he realized that he wanted her sexually. Though skittish for a widow, she seemed as intrigued by him as he was by her.

What was he going to do about Mariah? Did he dare insult her father by bedding her? Was he capable of performing sexually? He had no idea if he was a good lover. He didn’t believe he had it in him to be a rough lover, or a selfish one. One thing he knew about himself was that he loved women, and some deeply ingrained instinct made him believe he wouldn’t leave the widow Mariah wanting.

Just as the sun began to set, a servant brought clean clothing for Falcon. Falcon donned the plain white shirt, brown hose and unadorned doublet without complaint, despite a dim memory that he was accustomed to richer attire. He wiggled his bare toes and wondered if he’d have to appear in the hall barefoot.

His question was answered when Mariah appeared with a pair of woolen stockings and soft leather boots.

“The fit might be a little snug, but they should do,” she said, eyeing his bare feet.

“Thank you,” Falcon said as he pulled on the stockings and pushed his feet into the boots. “Actually, they fit very well. Whose are they?”

“They belong to Edmond. He no longer has need of them.”

“Edmond? You call your father by his given name?”

Lies—how she hated them
. “Sometimes, but I mean no disrespect by it.”

Falcon stomped the boots on the floor and stood. “I’m ready.”

Mariah stepped back, admiring the way the hose hugged the long muscles of his legs. Though plain and without fancy trim, the doublet seemed to enhance his manly physique. Forcing her gaze away from the splendid male standing before her, she opened the door, admitting two husky servants. “Chad and Horace will help you. ’Tis a long way down to the hall.”

Falcon hated feeling helpless, but he acquiesced. One day soon, he vowed, he would negotiate the stairs and much more by himself. By the time he reached the bottom landing, Falcon was glad he had Chad and Horace to lean upon. Mariah led him to the high table, where he sank most gratefully into a chair. Servants began bringing out food from the kitchens almost immediately.

“Isn’t your father joining us?” Falcon asked.

“He rarely takes his meals in the hall anymore,” Mariah replied.

“May I visit him after the meal?”

“I see no harm. But you mustn’t tire yourself.”

Falcon devoted himself to the excellent meal, eating as much as his diminished stomach would hold. While he ate, he gazed at each face in the hall, searching for someone familiar, someone who might recognize him. He saw naught but strangers, and by the curious looks he received in return, he could tell he was unknown to them. The puzzle that was his life deepened.

After the meal, Mariah led Falcon to Edmond’s chamber in the solar. Edmond welcomed him warmly and dismissed Mariah with a wave of his hand. Though reluctant to do so, Mariah left the men alone. When she returned later, she found them engaged in a game of chess.

“Your father beat me,” Falcon said. “I must have lost my knowledge of the game along with my memory.”

Edmond sent him a sharp look. “Can you remember naught of your past?”

Falcon’s golden eyes assumed a haunted look. “Sadly, I remember naught, though at times brief images flash through my mind. Unfortunately, they do not remain long enough for me to identify them. One recurrent image is that of a bird.”

“A bird?” Mariah repeated. “What kind of a bird?”

“I know not. But I feel the bird is the key that will unlock my memory. Tomorrow I intend to go outside and test my theory. Perhaps I shall see a bird that will jog something in my mind.”

“Do not overtax yourself, Sir Knight. I am not eager to lose you as a guest. Nor is Mariah, I vow. She leads a lonely life.”

“Are you ready to return to your chamber?” Mariah asked before Edmond said something to embarrass her.

“Aye. Perhaps Lord Edmond will consent to another game of chess tomorrow.”

“Any time, lad, any time,” said Edmond, beaming. “Mariah, since I am confined to my bed, why don’t you show Sir Knight around when he feels up to it?”

“I’d like that,” Falcon said, rising. “I wish you good night, my lord.”

“I will summon Chad to help you mount the stairs,” Mariah said.

“Nay, do not,” Falcon demurred. “I can manage with your help.”

Mariah hesitated. She no longer felt comfortable with
this virile male. Her experience with any man other than her elderly husband was very limited.

“Help Sir Knight to his bed, Mariah,” Edmond urged. “Go on with you now—our guest must be exhausted after his first excursion out of bed.”

Mariah sent Edmond a disgruntled look before placing an arm around Sir Knight’s narrow waist and guiding him toward his chamber. She knew what Edmond was trying to do and didn’t approve. Sir Knight placed an arm around her shoulders. Her knees trembled, but she managed not to stumble.

The heat of his body surrounded her in a blanket of warmth. She felt as if she were melting. What was wrong with her? There were men aplenty at Mildenhall—why didn’t any of them affect her like Sir Knight?

“Are you all right?” Falcon asked. “Am I too burdensome for your narrow shoulders?”

“I . . . am fine. We’re almost there.”

But she wasn’t fine. She was beginning to feel things she shouldn’t; beginning to look upon Edmond’s plan to gain an heir with favor. Mariah had always longed for a child. Having a babe with this magnificent man would be an answer to all her prayers. Mildenhall would be safe from Osgood’s clutches, and she would have a child to love after Edmond was gone.

They reached the guest chamber. Sir Knight halted before the door. He maneuvered her until her back rested against the wall and leaned into her. In the flickering light provided by a wall sconce, his golden eyes gleamed with wicked intent.

“What are you doing?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “You intrigue me,
lady. Touching you is not enough. I’m going to do something I’ve been thinking about since I first laid eyes on you. I’m going to kiss you.”

He gave her no chance to protest as his mouth covered hers. His lips were warm and soft; she yielded, unable to resist the tempting taste of him. Only when his mouth hardened and she felt him lick along the seam of her lips did she become alarmed.

“Open your mouth, Mariah,” he whispered against her lips.

Her lips parted. “Why?”

He thrust his tongue into her mouth, showing her without words what he wanted. Mariah’s heart slammed against her chest. What was he doing? With the wall at her back, she couldn’t escape Sir Knight’s passionate kiss. She could only feel . . . and taste as he kissed her more thoroughly than she ever dreamed a man could kiss a woman. When he touched her breast, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

For the first time in her life, Mariah felt desire stirring in that secret place between her legs. Long ago Edwina had tried to explain passion to her, but Mariah despaired of ever experiencing that emotion. She knew love—the kind of love she felt for Edmond—but that was far different from what she was feeling now. She knew it wasn’t love; it was an emotion far more powerful.

She wanted it to go on forever.

But all good things must come to an end. Sir Knight broke off the kiss and gave her an apologetic smile. “I want to take this further, but I fear I cannot until I am strong enough to do both of us justice.”

It took a moment for Mariah’s addled brain to assimilate
his words. When she finally understood, her cheeks bloomed a rich red. She shoved herself away from the wall and scooted around him. Her fingers flew to her lips. “This cannot be. I am mar . . . a widow.”

Falcon looked unconvinced. “You said your husband died months ago.”

“Aye.”

“Why aren’t you wearing black?”

She gazed down at her green gown. “I . . . my husband had an aversion to black; he wouldn’t want me to wear mourning forever.”

“Have you taken no lovers since his death?”

The high color drained from her face. “Nay, I would never—”

“Then I will be the first, but not until I am up to the challenge. Until then, lady, I bid you good night.”

Mariah stared at the closed door, her temper rising, her fists clenched. What made Sir Knight think she wanted him in that way? Had that single kiss sent him a message she hadn’t intended? Or had he read acquiescence into her response? Unwilling to delve too deeply into her emotions, she turned and fled.

Falcon barely made it back to bed. His first foray out of his chamber had left him exhausted. Or was it the kiss that had weakened him? He had been truthful with Mariah. He was in no condition to take his desire for the beautiful widow any further than a kiss.

He pulled off his boots and lay down fully clothed, folding his arms behind his head. What kind of man was he? he wondered. Obviously he was not timid, nor was he inexperienced. Kissing had come naturally to him. Had
he taken it further as his body demanded, he knew he would have given a good accounting of himself despite his lingering weakness. Making love was something a man didn’t forget.

Before sleep claimed Falcon, he vowed to exert himself more each day, until his strength had returned to its former level of endurance. And perhaps, along the way to recovery, his memory would return.

In the darkest part of night, Falcon jerked upright from a nightmare. Sweat poured down his face in rivulets, soaking his shirt. If the dream was a window into his past, he wanted naught to do with it. The cries of wounded and dying men rang in his ears. He saw himself wielding a sword, visiting death and destruction upon a nameless enemy.

Next he saw himself lying on the ground, being pummeled near to death by men wielding cudgels. Then he woke up. His head pounded, and he couldn’t drag in enough air to fill his lungs. Sucking in deep, shuddering breaths, Falcon managed to calm himself and think more clearly.

Had he remembered something about himself? Had he actually experienced the battles of his dreams? Mariah called him Sir Knight, and the flashbacks he’d been having seemed to confirm her belief that he was a warrior.