Kathryn Kramer (10 page)

For a long moment he stared down at her, mesmerized by her peacefully slumbering form.  She was so lovely, he mused, moving his eyes almost tenderly over her thick dark lashes, her slightly uptilted nose, her generous mouth.  That he had been harsh with her he well knew
, for his apprehension and the danger he was in had made him afraid to trust anyone.  She had asked him if she was to be his prisoner, but as his gaze slid slowly over her slim body, he knew the answer.  She was not his captive, but if he were in her company much longer he might well be hers.  Pulling a blanket from the foot of the bed and spreading it out on the rush-strewn floor, he purged himself of such thoughts, trying to seek his own slumber.  But tired as he was sleep was a long time in coming.  A very long time.

Chapter Fourteen

Alandra dreamed a frightening distortion of voices and pictures.  She was being chased down a long dark tunnel.  Looking over her shoulder, she could see a man's shape steadily closing the distance between them.  He reached out, his fingers brushing against her hair.  Nimbly she ducked out of the way, yet he kept coming. An all-consuming panic surged wildly through her veins.  She had to get away!

He was going to kill her, murder her because of what she knew.  He'd murdered the old lord and now he was going to kill her
, too.  And there was no one who could save her.

Her pursuer
was laughing, an infernal sound.  She tried to evade his grasping arms, but suddenly she couldn't move.  She was on a treadmill, slowly losing ground.   She wanted to scream, but no sound would come.  The only sound at all was his damnable chuckling. She would soon be cornered and he knew it!  Even so she kept on going, stubbornly running.

Then all of a su
dden the floor gave way, and she was falling, moving in wild, spasmodic gyrations, tumbling down, down, down.

"Wake up!  Wake up!  We have no time to waste."

Distant sounds penetrated Alandra's dreams as she was roused from her deep sleep by Nicholas's command.  Her eyes flew open to see him standing over her.  Remembering the dream she shrieked and pulled away.

"Hush!"  Nicholas didn't want her voice to bring everyone running.  Reaching down
, he covered her mouth with his hand, keeping it there until she quieted.  "You must have had a nightmare."

Yes
, Alandra thought. 
One about you
.  Her heart was beating wildly.  It took a long moment for her to steady its tempo.  "Merry-go-up!" she exclaimed at last, echoing her father's favorite phrase.  Then all that had happened came flooding back to her in a torrent of memories-- her late night ride, their frantic journey across the countryside, the early morning sojourn at the inn.  Shivering, she remembered bits and pieces of her dream.

Nicholas watched her, charmed by the sight she made
early in the morning.  Her dark brown hair curled about her face in a most enticing way, framing her face like some nymph or woodland sprite.  Oh yes, he had strong desires for the girl.

"As soundly as you
slept I had my doubts about you," he said softly.

"Doubts?"  Had she called out in her sleep?  Could he read her mind?  Did he know she feared him?  Alandra's eyes darted nervously around the room.  She loathed being at his mercy.

How could she have allowed herself to sleep?  It had been her plan to wait until he slumbered, then to unlock the door and make her escape.  Instead, she had obviously fallen asleep first and lost her chance to get away.  Fool.  She was a fool.  Ah, but she had been so tired.  But she would not lose heart.  There would be another chance.

Unaware of what she was thinking, Nicholas was in a mood to tease
her.  "I feared the fairies had bewitched you into a hundred years' slumber.  You have a most melodious snore."

"I never snore!"  Alandra was indignant.  He was obviously provoking her.  "I do not snore," she repeated,
“but
you
certainly did.  Loud enough to wake the dead."  She wouldn't let him know she had slept the entire time.  Let him wonder.

"You were too immersed in your own slumbers to hear me.  If your accusation is even true," he countered, wondering  what game she played.

She appraised him quickly, noticing that he had donned his doublet and had thrown his cloak over his arm.  Clearly he was in a hurry to depart.   Wherever it was he was going he didn't want to waste any time.

Not wanting to be the cause of rebuke, she rose from the bed, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress as best she could and running her hands self-consciously through her tangled hair.

"Our horses are watered, fed and saddled.  I was able to procure a bridle and saddle at the price of more than a few shillings.  For the price I paid one might well have thought the leather trappings  to be made of solid gold.  And you accuse me of being a thief!  'T would seem to be a name more fitting the innkeeper." 

"It would seem that it would take one to recognize a man of like crime," Alandra shot back.  His perfidy still angered her.

Nicholas didn't want to argue, for it was an argument he couldn't win, not unless he explained all.  He stared at her for a long inscrutable moment, then his mouth twisted up in a grin.  "It is my hope that the bridle and saddle will make the rest of the journey more comfortable for you, for I would welcome a change in your mood.   Perhaps you might think of it as payment for the use of your friend Shakespeare's horse."

"A saddle and bridle in exchange for a horse?"  Her laugh was scornful.  "I would hardly call that a fair trade."  

So, he had already been out to the stable.  His absence would have offered her a perfect chance to escape, but she had slept her opportunity away.  Well, in the future she wouldn't make the same mistake.

"Alandra........"  Nicholas threw his hands up in the air.  What did it matter what she thought of him?  And yet it did. 

Alandra studied him.  What was ticking inside that noble head of his?  Another plot, another plan.  What was he up to?  That she was still alive and unharmed said something for him.  And yet maybe her murder just wasn't in his plan--at least just yet.  But what about after she had served her purpose.  What then? 

She watched as he turned his head, wishing with all her heart that she could delve into his thoughts.  His gaze was locked upon her and Alandra was suddenly, achingly aware of her disarray.  She must be a mess!  With sudden feminine vanity she wished  for a comb or a brush, not to mention a bath.  Involuntarily her eyes strayed to the corner where a large wooden tub rested.

"Oh no!  There is not time."   Nicholas' swore beneath his breath, "women and their foolishness." 

Tugging at her hand, he hurried her through the door and down the wooden steps of the inn.

"We must be on our way and quickly.  Against my better judgment I let you slumber longer than I first intended.  Now we must make up for that delay," Nicholas flung over his shoulder as he pushed open the front door of the inn and headed for the two horses that were waiting for them in the courtyard.  "If my instincts are right there is a storm coming.  We must try to outrace it."

"A storm?" 

Overhead the sky was cloudy but not threatening.  Nonetheless ,Alandra shrugged her shoulders in compliance, not in a mood to argue.  Let him think what he might.  Mounting her horse, ignoring her aching body, she thought only of the necessity of getting away from him eventually.

They proceeded on to
Cranbrook at a furious gallop.  Riding like the wind, Alandra was thankful for the bridle and saddle which did make riding easier.  Grudgingly, she admired how well Nicholas sat his horse.  She had never beheld a better horseman.  Bending close to the horse's churning muscles with masterful ease, he looked dashing, the epitome of a gentleman.  Following suite, she mimicked him and found that by seeking a firm grip on the reins and leaning forward she was able to manage Pedant quite well.

Despite the overcast sky, Alandra preferred traveling during the daytime for it gave her a chance to at least view the rapidly passing scenery with an appreciative eye.  It was a beautiful countryside of rivers and broad plains, small valleys joined by switchback roads over densely wooded ridges which rose to a
high point in the distance.  Before them lay a colorful panorama of thick hedges and trees which afforded many hiding places were it discovered they were being pursued.

Suddenly she wished that her father and the others in the company were with them. 
              Had they traveled on to Faversham without her?  She thought not.  They would most likely be frantically searching for her, fretful in their concern.  Just as Nicholas was being hunted she would also be the subject of a search.  In that lay her hope of quickly putting an end to this escapade.

They passed by
Cranbrook without stopping, though Alandra did catch sight of its fine medieval church which had been given the honorary title of "Cathedral of the Weald".  Outside  the town the storm at last caught up with them.  Thunder rumbled overhead with the promise of a torrent as dark gray clouds moved across the sky.

"Damn!" she heard Nicholas say, though he gave no indication of seeking shelter.  Instead he seemed determined to ride through the rain
, and Alandra cursed him beneath her breath.  Didn't anything stop him?

"A pox on him and his arrogance!" she grumbled, slowing the stride of her horse.  Well if he was such a fool as to push on, she wasn't.  He was riding right into the tumult.  Stubbornly
, she stopped. Nicholas was upon her in a minute, and she realized that though he seemed to have forgotten her, he always held her within his view.  Behind his dark lashes and veiled eyes she knew now that he was aware of
every
move she made.  Regretfully she began to have doubts that she really could escape from him.

"Is something wrong?"  His voice boomed as deeply as the thunder. 

Shaking her head in resignation she set her heels to Pedant, guiding him down the roadway just as the heavens poured forth in a cloudburst.  Alandra was soon soaked to the skin, shivering against a sudden burst of wind which howled around them.  Despite the storm, she was determined not to complain.

In the end it was Nic
holas who sought shelter, guiding his mount to a grove of thickly leaved trees beside which stood a dilapidated woodsman's hut.  By way of explanation, he nodded in the direction of the roadway which was quickly becoming a quagmire.

Alandra didn't utter a single word as he helped her down from her horse
. She was shivering too violently, and she sighed appreciatively as he draped his cloak over her.  Nicholas noted that her face was begrimed with mud, rain running in rivulets down her forehead and cheeks, but underneath was such a stunningly pretty face, made even more so when she smiled.

God's whiskers but she is lovely when she turns up the corners of her mouth and shows those pearly white teeth
, he thought.  He felt a sudden twinge of conscience that he had been the cause of her discomfort.

"Alandra....I've been an unmitigated ass, not realizing how cold you would be in that thin linen dress.  I'm sorry.  It was not my intent that you should grow ill." 

His eyes mirrored his concern, and for just a moment Alandra thought that despite his crimes there was some good in him. Certainly, he had shown considerable regard for her comfort, first with the saddle and now this pause to wait out the storm. 

"If I can find some firewood I'll build a fire.  That will soon warm you."
Then he led her inside the hut and left to gather the wood.

There was not eno
ugh dry kindling to be found to start a sufficient blaze.  Gathering Nicholas's cloak tightly about her, Alandra tried futilely to warm herself, but the shaking of her limbs would just not cease. 

Each quiver, each tremor
, was noted by Nicholas, increasing his feeling of guilt.  His damnable pride, his thoughtless resolution to reach Bodiam before nightfall, had prompted his actions.  Yet how could he have forgotten the dangers of catching a chill?  Hadn't his young cousin, Stephen nearly died when he had gone riding in such a storm?

"Alandra..."  Drops of rain glistened on her thick lashes and brows and he reached out to wipe them away.  His finger moved over her cheek with a gentleness few such masculine men possessed.  "Let me keep you warm."

Before she had time to think or to answer, he had gathered her into his arms, his mouth only inches from her own.  It was such a sudden embrace that she was stunned.  Her heart hammered in her breast, beating in a rhythm with his, as she stared up at him mutely, her brown eyes huge.  She was giddily conscious of the warmth emanating from his male body, aware of a bewildering intense tingle in the pit of her stomach as he bestowed on her a heated gaze.  A look nearly hot enough to start a fire.  Gone now was her body's chill.  The shivering that overtook her was for a far different reason.

"Alandra.  Sweet, swee
t, Alandra...."  He touched her, moving his hand slowly up her arm from elbow to shoulder as he explored, caressed.  "There, is that better?  Do you feel warmer?"

Silently she nodded.

"Good."  He arched against her, cupping her face in one hand, forcing her to meet his stare. For a long time he merely gazed at her then with an imprecation, bent his head.

"Christopher!"  Her voice was husky as his lips drew ever closer to her own.  He was  holding her so tightly th
at she could not  avoid his lips.                            

He claimed her mouth
in a gentle and strangely chaste kiss, yet one which nearly devastated Alandra's senses.  Her mouth was virgin territory, just waiting to be explored.  With an intense feeling of pride Nicholas realized his were the first lips to discover her sweetness.

"Let me g......"  Alandra stiffened, but his mouth cl
osed on hers again muffling her command.

Impriso
ning her against his chest, his arms tightened, and Alandra was aware of her body as she had never been  before.  Her breasts tingled with a new sensation, and though she could have denied him, she made not even a token protest as he kissed her again, a kiss that held far more passion than the first.