Forbidden Lord (6 page)

Turning on his heel, William strode to the door. ‘Perfectly. I'll go and get some witch hazel and then we'll be on our way.'

 

Never had Eleanor spent so much time in the saddle. Her thighs and bottom were sore and her back ached, but, trying to ignore her discomfort, she rode on uncomplaining. When they stopped for the night she looked and felt fit to drop, although now she was out of the wind she rallied a little, but not enough not to long for a bed.

‘I can't eat anything,' she told William wearily. ‘I must go to bed, otherwise I shall fall asleep on my feet.'

‘As you like. Just make sure you eat a good breakfast before we set off in the morning.'

Eleanor followed a serving woman through the busy, smoky taproom where men were drinking, playing dice and calling for more ale. They went up a narrow flight of stairs where the woman stepped aside for her to enter an extremely small chamber beneath the eaves. Unable to resist the little bed, she stripped off her clothes and slid naked beneath the coarse sheets, so tired she was insensitive as they chafed her flesh. Soon she would be at Hollymead, safe inside its strong walls, where there would be warm scented water to bathe in and smooth Holland sheets to lie between and rest her sore and weary body.

 

Arriving downstairs the following morning and finding Godfrey tucking into a hearty breakfast alone, after fifteen minutes and still no sign of Eleanor, William went to see what was keeping her.

When there was no answer to his knock, William went in and found her still snuggled deeply into the covers, with the sheets covering her nakedness, her hair tumbling about her, and her eyes closed in sleep. With the full tender curve of her
mouth, her face softly flushed and naked, she looked like a child—young, vulnerable and defenceless.

Growing aware of a firm hand gently prodding her, struggling to open her eyes and clear the fuzz in her head, Eleanor glanced up and saw William standing over her. Resentful at being disturbed, sighing crossly, she turned her head away and pulled the covers up to her chin. ‘Go away,' she mumbled sleepily. ‘Leave me alone. It can't be time to get up yet.'

William chuckled softly. ‘I didn't expect to see you still nestled in so cosily, Eleanor. I apologise for disturbing your sleep, but it's way past time to get up. Come. There's time for some breakfast before we leave. The food smells good. It will set you in good stead for the day.'

‘All right,' she conceded with a deep sigh, pulling herself up, pushing the heavy curtain of her hair off her face and rubbing her eyes. Realising that she was naked beneath the sheets, she kept tight hold of them. ‘I feel as if my body has been tortured beyond endurance.' Looking with longing at the pillow her head had just parted from, she sighed. ‘Don't let me keep you,' she murmured softly. ‘Give me a few minutes and I'll join you.'

Seeing where her attention was directed and suspecting she would go back to sleep as soon as he left her, suppressing a smile and adopting a stern countenance at her, William leaned against the door and casually folded his arms across his chest. ‘I'll leave when you're out of that bed and not before.'

With a sigh of irritation, Eleanor shuffled to the edge of the bed and stood up, careful to keep tight hold of the covers. Stretching her long limbs, she gave vent to a prodigious yawn. ‘There. Are you satisfied now?'

William's smouldering gaze casually caressed her as if the bed covers did not exist, his eyes resting on the twin orbs of her breasts swelling above the top of the covers, and he could well imagine the softness of her flesh beneath the sheets. Surrounded by a frame of honey-gold tresses, vibrant and
glorious, the harsh planes of her face retreated and her eyes grew soft, her cheeks taking on a fragility like hand-blown glass that could be easily shattered by a careless move.

In fact, she appeared remarkably younger. He hadn't expected that without her male attire and the loosening of her hair to change his perception of her to such a degree and an unexpected rampant desire speared him.

‘Will you stop looking at me like that?' Eleanor whispered, feeling devoured by those burning eyes. She looked up into his face and for a long moment she could not look away again. It was something she was unable to name, but which her female body instantly recognised. As if her body were awash with feeling, alive with need, she felt like a caged creature bursting to be set free.

William's brow arched as he peered at her, his desire hard driven as he became preoccupied with her rosy mouth and pert nose. She was completely unaware that her hair tumbling about her shoulders was a hundred different shades and dazzling lights.

‘I assure you, Eleanor, that a naked woman is most provocative at this time of the morning.'

‘You are indeed the most unmannerly man I have ever met, William Marston,' she hissed, a storm brewing in her eyes.

He was quite undaunted; a dazzling smile broke the firm line of his mouth. ‘I never pretended otherwise.'

Drawing the covers tighter about her, she flashed him an indignant look. ‘If you must ogle somebody, William, go and seek out one of the servant girls. I'm sure they will be flattered to acquire the attention of a gentleman of your calibre.'

‘It's not a servant girl I want.' An audacious smile began to curve his lips, his expression watchful and a knowing look in his eyes as his mind reminded him of all the delectable female attributes that lay within his reach—mentally he could feel the firm softness of her breasts filling his palms. ‘You really are very lovely, Eleanor.'

Mesmerised, she stared into the fathomless silver eyes while his deep husky voice caressed her, pulling her under his spell. She was unprepared for the sheer force of the feelings that swept through her and she knew, with a kind of panic, that she was in grave danger, not from him, but from herself.

‘Do not attempt to dazzle me with glib flattery, William Marston,' she retorted sharply, ‘for you haven't a prayer for success.'

‘I do have other skills to persuade you if I had a mind.' The sudden gleam that danced in his eyes was wicked. ‘You're blushing,' he murmured, observing the familiar pink that stole over her cheeks that somehow reflected her innocence. Strange how he'd come to expect it—and stranger still was the warmth it stirred within him, the need to protect her that it brought to the fore. He smiled slowly, enjoying teasing her. ‘And your eyes are far too eloquent to claim uninterest.'

Eleanor's lips trembled. He wrapped such carnality around the words that she almost fell back on to the bed. For a second she glimpsed a different face—lowered eyelids, a passionate gravity, a face from which all cynicism and irony had vanished under the surge of a single feeling.

‘Please don't say these things to me,' she said, sighing wearily, beset with confusion on finding herself in a situation she had never been in before and not sure how to handle it. ‘I think you've set your mind to torment me.'

For a long moment William's hungering eyes looked at her and then, pushing himself away from the door, he smiled. ‘I apologise, Eleanor. I can see it takes more than flattery and a spot of teasing and cajoling words to move you to ardour.'

Her flush deepened as her eyes flared to life. ‘It does, much more than that. Now please leave so I can get dressed. I'll be down in a moment.'

A heavy lock of hair caressed her temple and William had the urge to brush it away. Suddenly recollecting himself, he clenched his hands into fists to stop himself. Suddenly,
touching Eleanor Collingwood did not seem like a good idea. A part of him wished he'd never instigated this moment, another part of him wanted to drag her into her arms and kiss those luscious lips that were parted and slightly trembling.

Turning from her, impatient to be away, he opened the door and said, ‘Don't take long.'

Why had he behaved like that? he asked himself angrily as he walked away. The fact was that flushed with sleep and wrapped in bed covers—which to William's observant eyes was more of an enticement than a covering—Eleanor had looked so delectable and desirable that he had wanted her with an aching need that seeped into the deepest parts of his body, had wanted her with a recklessness that was completely foreign to his nature, but it had been a momentary aberration, and now it had passed.

 

Eleanor had been heartened by a night of rest and good food, so the rattling harness and the ring of horses' hooves on the hard cobblestones as a coach full of refreshed passengers went out into the road and headed for London was like music to her ears. She was mounted and ready to leave when she saw Godfrey, with his cloak slung carelessly about his massive shoulders and broad, studded, leather belt about his hips, striding across the yard in the direction of the stables, crossing the path of her horse. His blond hair, unfashionably long, fell in heavy waves to his shoulders.

Initially she had been uneasy with William's servant. He rarely spoke to her, only to acknowledge her presence with an occasional greeting in a deep, guttural voice, but gradually she was becoming used to him.

He did not trouble to lower his gaze, which was amused and slid over her, but not in an insolent manner. Eleanor stared back at him, and when he smiled broadly she returned his smile. He was a stranger, a servant, but it was clear that William thought highly of him.

‘You feel rested this morning, Mistress Collingwood?'

‘Perfectly, thank you, Godfrey,' she answered. His voice was deep, quiet and compelling with a pronounced northern accent. ‘William tells me you are from Scotland, Godfrey.'

‘Aye, my father was a boat builder on the Clyde. He had a thriving business, his vessels being sold all over England and sailing for ports the world over.'

‘Then why is the son of a successful boat builder Lord Marston's servant?' she asked him curiously, hoping he would tell her something of what William had been doing for the past three years.

Godfrey looked at her for a long moment, considering whether to answer her question. Shrugging his enormous shoulders he smiled a secretive smile, and, shaking his head, started to walk away. ‘Things changed for my father. He lost his fortune and died in debt. William is generous. We have an understanding—and,' he said, chuckling softly and giving her a playful wink, ‘he pays me well.'

Eleanor watched him disappear into the stables for his horse, feeling strangely disappointed, which was foolish. Why should he tell her anything—and why should she care? But her curiosity about William was not appeased. There were rings in Godfrey's ears and rings on his fingers, gold rings that sparkled with jewels. Since when did a man's servant behave without subservience towards his master and flaunt a wealth his master did not? Godfrey was big and bold and, despite being William's servant, he was his own man.

But the question of the past three years of William's life nagged at her. Wherever he had been, he was keeping it locked away inside, as if it was some dark secret he didn't want to talk about. Whatever had happened to him, it was eating away at him, but he would not share it with her.

Coming into the yard, distractedly William paused to watch Eleanor ride towards the road. Her hat was set at a jaunty angle on her head and she sat her horse with a straight-backed, easy
grace he admired. Godfrey sidled up to him, chuckling deep in his throat when he saw where William's gaze was directed.

‘Am I to deduce, since you've been staring at our charming companion for the best part of two minutes with an inane grin on your face, that you are not finding her company as objectionable as you feared you might?' he taunted, provoking William to throw him a dark, though smiling, look.

William took the bridle of his horse that Godfrey had brought out of the stable. ‘You are welcome to deduce anything you wish, Godfrey,' he barked, his eyes twinkling merrily at his servant, ‘but she has made the journey less tedious—as I'm sure you will agree, since I have noticed you spend a good deal of time watching her yourself. You're bedazzled, Godfrey. Never have I seen you so smitten.'

‘Nay, not smitten, William,' Godfrey said on a serious note. ‘She made a courageous decision when she decided to leave Fryston Hall. I'm merely concerned for the lassie and that's all.'

William frowned. ‘So am I, Godfrey, so am I, and I doubt she will be as safe from Atwood's machinations at Hollymead as she expects to be.'

‘Aye, well, she's out of his clutches for now—as is the fair Lady Catherine'

William turned and met the other man's sky-blue eyes and smiled. Godfrey was a connoisseur of women. Where they were concerned he had the charm of the angels and the luck of the devil. ‘Catherine? She impressed you, did she, you old reprobate?'

Godfrey's chuckle was like a low rumble. ‘Reprobate I'm happy to live with, but less of the old. Now the lady is wed you'll be looking for a new bride with a lovely neck to hang your family jewels around.'

‘I'm in no hurry. Marriage is the last thing on my mind at this time.'

‘You will be when a list of eligible ladies has been drawn up by the ladies of the Court.'

‘Then I shall endeavour to keep well away from the place. Following my brief time at Court and the necessary visit to Fryston Hall, time spent with my family is what I need just now.'

‘It wasn't the fair Catherine that drew you to Fryston Hall, but Atwood himself, wasn't it? And who could blame you after he consigned you to a living hell.'

William was not offended that Godfrey spoke plainly. Shaking the dust from his hat and placing it on his head, he swung himself up into the saddle. ‘You always seem to know my secrets, Godfrey.' He paused, giving his friend a long, knowing look. ‘Is it possible that if Catherine hadn't wed Henry Wheeler, you might fancy her for yourself?'

‘And would you be angry if I did? She's a handsome woman.'