Haunted Knights (Montbryce~The Next Generation Historical Romance) (12 page)

Heart racing, Adam followed a maidservant, Rosamunda cradled to his chest. He was appalled when the servant pointed to a meagre pallet in the corner of Letyce’s room, far from the hearth. He placed her on the luxurious bed instead. She was pale, too pale.

“Fetch water,” he instructed the servant, smoothing Rosamunda’s wild hair off her face. “Wake up, Rosa.”

Her long eyelashes fluttered open. Relief washed over him.

She smiled and touched his cheek. “Adam.”

He pressed her hand against his face. She felt clammy.

She frowned, licking her dry lips.

He put his palm against her forehead. “Are you ill,
ma chère
? You may have a fever.”

The servant brought water and he helped her sip from the tumbler.

A tear trickled down her cheek. She patted a spot above her left breast.

He arched his brows. “Afraid? Why were you afraid?”

She squirmed, avoiding his gaze.

He put his fingers on her chin and turned her face gently to him. “Were the Revandel brothers rude to you?”

She shook her head, but the corners of her mouth edged down.

Adam raked a hand through his hair. This was not going well. His first impression of the twins was not positive, but perhaps if Rosamunda became better acquainted with them—

“I am sorry we were seated apart. It was not my doing. But I was hoping you might make new friends. I will not always be there to sit beside you.”

A ragged breath shuddered through her. He longed to kiss away the pain flickering in her eyes. If only things were different. But it was no use pining for the unattainable. He determined to be firm with her. “I want you to promise you will try to like at least one of them. It’s a good family.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

He took her hands in his. “You are of an age to marry. We must search for a husband for you.”

She tore her hands away and plunged her face into the bolster.

He put his hand on her trembling shoulder, but she pulled away, refusing to look at him. He did not hear Letyce enter the chamber, but suddenly she was at his side, a look of disdain on her pouty face.

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “It’s not seemly for you to be in my chamber,” she breathed, thrusting her breasts close to his face as she leaned over the bed, her hand again on his thigh. “You must return to the Hall. I will take care of the invalid. Poor thing!”

He was reluctant to leave Rosamunda with this harlot, but she was right, although he sensed her chamber was exactly where she wanted him. What a disappointment she would have if he remained! But then he risked discovery of his secret, and Letyce Revandel was the last person whose suspicions he wanted to arouse.

He came to his feet and smoothed his hand over Rosamunda’s hair. “
À demain
,” he whispered.

~~~

Letyce kept the smile plastered on her face until she was sure Adam was well on his way back to the Hall. She grabbed Rosamunda’s hair. “Get out of my bed. How dare you.”

The
muette’s
face contorted as she struggled to get free, but Letyce held firm, dragging the freak to the pallet. “You should be in the stables with the other dumb animals. But I suppose I will have to put up with having you here.”

She shoved Rosamunda on to the pallet. “Do not move from there, and don’t make a sound.”

She scoffed. “Oh, silly me! You’re incapable of doing so anyway.”

As she swept through the doorway, she turned to the maidservant lurking in the shadows. “Get clean linens and a new bolster for my bed—now!”

~~~

Rosamunda lay trembling, curled up in a tight ball as she watched the maidservant change the bed linens. How she wished she was back in her comfortable bed, listening to Paulina’s soft snoring. Why had she not stood up to the horrible Revandel woman? It galled that she had let herself be intimidated. She was certain Denis de Sancerre never allowed himself to be bullied.

Better to sleep in the stables. It would be warmer, and probably a good deal safer with Nox and Lux.

As soon as the servant left, she draped the thin blanket around her shoulders and tiptoed from the chamber.

Nox snorted, waking Rosamunda from a deep sleep in the warm hayloft. She stiffened. Something had caught the stallion’s attention. A voice. Outside the stables.

Adam!

He had come to see to his horse before retiring! Her heart filled with gladness. She was about to leap up and thrust open the shutters when another voice intruded.

Letyce Revandel
.

Rosamunda threw off her blanket and listened.

“I must see to my horse, Letyce.” Impatience edged Adam’s words.

Rosamunda imagined Letyce’s pout as she replied, “Can’t you spend a few minutes with me? This is the first chance we have had to be alone. I fear you are ignoring me.”

Had Adam heard the
hore’s
words? It was dark. Unless they stood close together and he could see her lips clearly—

Listening was not enough. Rosamunda had to see what they were doing. She crept forward on all fours, hoping she sounded like a horse rustling dry straw.

She had left the shutters of the loft open a crack in the stifling air of early September that had accumulated under the rafters. Holding her breath, she peeked through the narrow opening.

Adam stood in front of the stable, frowning. Letyce blocked his way, leaning against the door. Her hands were behind her arched back, her breasts thrust forward, head cocked to one side. “Please, Adam.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Letyce, I am here on family matters. I prefer—”

She seized his hands and pressed them to her breasts. “Feel how I want you, Adam.”

Rosamunda’s own nipples hardened as anger surged through her. How dare this strumpet—another of Vincent’s favourite words—throw herself at her champion?

To her relief Adam dropped his hands quickly. “
Non
, Letyce. I will not be deterred from my mission here. I am my father’s representative. What you suggest is not proper.”

“Ha! Proper does not interest me,” she retorted, grasping his hips and thrusting her own towards him. “I want you.”

Rosamunda gasped in shock as Letyce pressed her most intimate part to Adam’s body.

Adam shoved her away, his face contorted in anger.

Letyce slapped him. “What kind of man are you? A eunuch? Or do men interest you more? Should I speak to my brothers perhaps?”

Rosamunda had never heard the word
unuk
from her brothers, but doubted it was good. Why would Adam be interested in the Revandel brothers? The woman was daft.

Letyce stormed off, leaving Adam alone, staring at the moon. The look of abject hopelessness on his face brought tears to her eyes. He stood in silence for long minutes before pulling open the door to the stables.

~~~

Nox nickered as Adam approached.

“Good lad,” he crooned, as the horse nuzzled him. “You’re always happy to see me.”

The stallion raised his head and snorted, stomping the dirt with one hoof.

“What’s wrong, Nox? What do you hear?”

Gooseflesh prickled the back of Adam’s neck. He was not alone in the stables. Was there mischief afoot? Or mayhap it was a stable boy? “Who’s there?”

A shaft of moonlight shone on dust motes drifting down between the planked floorboards of the loft. Someone was up there. He gripped the hilt of his sword. “Show yourself,” he growled.

To his surprise, Rosamunda appeared at the edge of the loft, her arms folded across her breasts, straw poking out of her hair. She was studying her feet, swaying from side to side. He was tempted to laugh, but she looked bereft. It touched his heart. “What are you doing up there? Come down.”

She kept her eyes averted, shaking her head.

An ugly suspicion crept into his thoughts. “Why are you not in Letyce’s chamber?”

She pointed to the straw behind her.

“You cannot sleep alone in the stable.”

She glanced at him briefly, then backed away into the shadows of the loft. He peered into the dark stable, searching for a ladder. He slapped Nox’s hindquarters, then strode over to the ladder he espied at the rear.

As he climbed to her hiding place he had a memory of pursuing a giggling wench up a rickety ladder in a similar hayloft. They had passed a pleasant afternoon pleasuring each other. His heart filled with regret—for the past, for everything he had lost. Loneliness swept over him.

Rosamunda crouched in a corner, shrouded in the blanket, eyeing him nervously as he reached the loft. He was dismayed that she feared him. He held out a hand. “Come, Rosamunda. Noblewomen do not sleep in stables. You have a bed in Letyce’s chamber.”

She shook her head vehemently.

“What has Letyce done? Was she cruel to you?”

Rosamunda glanced up at him sharply, the moonlight illuminating her tears. She grimaced, thrusting a clenched fist out from the blanket. “I hate her.”

The determined jut of her chin convinced him that short of wrestling her into the house, there would be no getting her back there. He would not want to spend the night in Letyce’s chamber either.

He held out his hand, indicating the pile of straw. “May I?”

She wiped away a tear and shuffled to make more space for him.

He sat beside her, his back to the wooden wall, knees bent. Her heat warmed his bicep, yet she shivered. He put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her to his body. “Let me warm you,” he whispered.

She remained stiff and unyielding, until he brushed a kiss on the top of her head. With a sigh she melted into him. Holding a woman again elated him, calmed his raging heart. He could not bed her, but he could offer comfort. Though being alone together was improper, it felt right, as if she belonged in his arms.

But the planking was hard, his arse going numb. “Let’s gather straw into bedding and lie down. We cannot sleep like this.”

She put a hand on his chest, her eyes full of uncertainty.

He came to his feet. “
Oui
, Rosamunda, I want to stay here with you. Will you share your blanket with me?”

~~~

Rosamunda doubted the need for a blanket. She was on fire. Was it the heat of the night, or a lingering illness? Every muscle in her body screamed to stretch, to luxuriate in the bed of straw like a queen on her couch.

“We won’t need this,” Adam said as he rolled the blanket into a pillow, tucking it under her head.

Rosamunda had learned to convey her feelings to her brothers and sister, despite her muteness, but how to explain to Adam how it felt to be enfolded in his embrace, held tight against his chest, his hips and thighs pressed to hers.

Words were impossible. She nuzzled his neck and brushed a kiss in the hollow of his throat. He let out a long slow breath, playing with her hair.

“Rosamunda,” he whispered.

“Adam,” she mouthed, aware he could not see her lips. She drifted into sleep, smugly content he seemed happy to lie with her, but had soundly rejected the harlot.

~~~

Adam dozed, pleasantly content—more at peace than he had been for a long while. It felt good to hold a woman in his arms, a woman who cared for him, wanted him. It was bittersweet. As she slumbered innocently, cradled to his chest, her hips rocked against him, her body betraying a desire she would have denied or misunderstood when awake.

Rosamunda had never made any secret of her feelings for him. She was too unschooled to hide her obvious attraction. But he doubted she understood the feelings. She had not had the benefit of a mother’s advice and assurance. Were she to awaken at this moment, she would likely not be aware of the curious absence of hard male flesh pressed against her.

Yet he loved the way her body nestled into him, her breath cool on his throat. He had saved her life, the life of a beautiful, intelligent young woman. She trusted him. She was his to safeguard. He rocked his hips gently, matching the slow rhythm of her movements. She licked her lips, purring as she stretched languidly against him.

She would be mortified if she knew what was happening, yet he eased her away to brush the backs of his fingers over the hardened nipple he had felt pressed to his chest through the linen of his shirt.

Dare he suck her, just for a moment? He bent his head to flick the tip of his tongue over the nipple. The purr became a growl, the rocking more insistent. Her body warmed as her breathing quickened.

He suckled, drawing the nipple into his mouth through the fabric of her nightshift. She writhed, throwing one leg over his thigh, the rocking urgent now.

He should stop. This was no way to introduce a young maiden to the ecstasy of what he had no doubt would be her first experience of arousal.

But she ran her fingers through his hair.

Was she still asleep, or had she awakened?

He glanced up at her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips open, inviting. He had an urge to thrust his tongue into the welcoming warmth of her mouth, but she firmly pressed his head back to her breast.

He suckled hard, elated as bliss carried her rigid body over the edge. He hiked up her shift, lost to the moment. He parted her legs and carefully slid a finger into her sheath. She was warm and wet. The tiny pulsating muscles clenched on him. He edged in another finger, his free arm cradling her to his chest. Her head fell back as her body arched again.

His pounding heart might burst. He was in love with this amazing woman. What had happened between them was the most emotionally satisfying physical encounter he had ever had.

But she would have no memory of it.

As her breathing slowed, he withdrew his fingers, savouring the scent of female arousal on them. He covered her nakedness, then glanced up at her face.

Green eyes, rendered all the more startling by moonlight, stared at him.