Kathryn Kramer (20 page)

Her lashes dropped to veil her eyes in a manner he found to be most beguiling.

"What you want is what I want too.  I want to writhe with longing in your arms.  I want  you to change me from girl to woman."  Could she have put it to him more straightforward than that?  She had already given him her heart, now she wanted to give him her body.  A token of her love.

The heat of his body was steadily climbing.  Nicholas swallowed, trying to calm himself. "Alandra, lass, you can not realize the whole of it.  I want to take off your clothes, to touch you, learn every secret of your body.  I want to caress your breasts, to feel the warmth of your hands touching me."  He pulled her up  against him, teaching her what a male arousal felt like and
he felt her shiver.  "I want to be so deeply sheathed in your softness that we are like one being.  That's what I want at this moment, but I will not take your virtue."  He took a step back.  "That's a gift for the man you love."

"I love
you
!  I have since first I saw you.  That's why I treated you so coldly.  I was afraid....."

"And well you should have been and should be now."  His protectiveness resurfaced, warring with his desire.  "
I can only hurt you, Alandra."

She didn't speak, merely wound her arms around his neck to pull his mouth to hers in another kiss, a kiss that deepened as he carried her to the bed.
Gently, without disrupting their kiss, he lowered her to the soft feather mattress, then positioned himself beside her. Desire was like a fever and she reveled in the sensations flooding her body.  At last her dreams were going to come true.  Christopher was going to make love to her.

Nicholas knew he should halt this madness
, but passion alone was ruling him, an ever growing ache that would not abate without fulfillment.  He was a man, not a saint and she was so incredibly sweet.  What would she feel like beneath his questing hands, naked and writhing?  He had to know.

"Alan
dra.  Sweet, sweet Alandra." 

Compulsively
, his hand  closed over her breast to begin a slow, leisurely exploration.  Gently tugging at her dress, he bared first one breast then the other, smiling at her sudden movement to cover her exposed flesh.  For all her attempt at seduction, she was after all a modest young thing, yet instead of cooling his desire, her shyness fired him to a passion he had hitherto never felt..

"Do you want me to stop?  It is your decision, Alandra," he whispered huskily.  "I'll go no further if you tell me nay." 

With the trust of a child seeking to learn to walk, she took his hand and drew it again to her breast, giving him his answer.

"Then so be it!"  If this was what she wanted
, then, God's blood he would fight his feelings no more. 

Dropping his head, he kissed the valley between her breasts, then  caressed each soft mound with his lips and tongue, teasing the peaks until she gasped aloud, fully unprepared for the hot ache of desire that coiled within her.  Alandra had suspected his love-making would be wondrous
, but she found her imagination had fallen far short of the reality.  Every place he touched her sparked with fire.

Nicholas's mind whirled in confusion.  Despite the fact that he was well experienced with women
, he felt as if he were going to make love for the very first time.  Indeed, he had tumbled tavern wenches, chambermaids and women of nobility whose virtue had long ago been taken, but Alandra was his first innocent.  He wanted to make what happened between them beautiful for her, but suddenly he felt apprehensive, cautioning himself not to push her too hard or too fast and break the fragile spell that was woven around them tonight.

Slowly, move slowly
, he thought to himself, pulling the bodice of her gown down around her waist, savoring the smooth, golden flesh that his ministrations had exposed.  He was awed by the loveliness of her soft, velvet skin, the firm young breasts that rose to meet his caress.  He savored the expression that chased across her face, the wanting and the passion that were  so clearly revealed.  Though his soul might well be damned for all eternity, he wanted to complete her initiation into womanhood.  He strained at the fastenings of his doublet, anxious to remove that constricting garment.  He wanted to feel the softness  of her breasts against his naked chest, wanted to.....

A loud knock upon the
door startled Nicholas.  His eyes were hooded and unreadable as he watched Alandra sit up on the bed, trying to cover her exposed breasts.

"Who is there?
" she asked, cautioning  him to silence.

"'T
is Will, Alandra.  I wanted to tell you that all is well.”

It was their signal, and Alandra swore softly. Will couldn’t have picked a worse time to intrude. Nevertheless, she called out, “
Thank you, Will."  She waited for him to go away, fearing what he might reveal, but though she listened, she did not hear his retreating footsteps.

"His timing is atro
cious! Tell him to go away.'" Nicholas whispered in her ear.

Teasingly, he tugged at her hands, exposing her breast. He stroked and caressed the nipples of her breasts in a motion that was exquisitely erotic, and Alandra moaned low in her throat.

“The coast is clear,” Shakespeare continued, waiting for her reply.

Nicholas swore beneath his breath as Alandra thanked Shakespeare once again. He rolled her over until she was lying beneath him. Stripping off his doublet, then tearing at his shirt, he shuddered as their bare flesh touched. His lips took hers again in a hungry urgency, his breathing becoming hard and labored.

“The she-wolf has gone, Alandra.”

Wrinkling his brows in a fr
own, Nicholas pulled away from Alandra. “What is this talk of she-wolf?” he whispered. For a long moment he stared into her eyes.

Before Alandra had time to answer,
to warn him that Christopher was still in the room, Shakespeare mumbled against the door, "I fear the lady was sorely disappointed, for I told her plainly that the handsome young man she so fancied was elsewhere occupied.  Thus, she consoled herself with Burbage, who is himself a quite charming rogue, though she asked many  questions.  I tried my best to fully satisfy her, making up a splendid tale.  Do you want to hear it,?"

"Yes. 
Tomorrow
, Will."  She was anxious for him to go away, and loath to have him discover the nearly naked Christopher in her room.  Making love to him was one part of her plan she had not revealed to Shakespeare, though she knew he would understand.  “I am already abed.”

"Then good night, Alandra
.  Sleep well knowing your young man to be safe, at least for the moment."  This time there was the sound of booted feet on the wooden floor as Shakespeare walked away.

"So that is what this is all about!"

There was a hint of anger in Christopher's voice and Alandra could barely bring herself to look at him.  How could she reveal to him her jealousy of the woman she knew he desired?  Or of her certainty that they were co-conspirators?

"A woman seemed dangerously interested in who you were and
I feared...."

"You found out about Morgana being here,"

That he could speak her name after what had passed between them sorely wounded Alandra.   Flushing with embarrassment, she fumbled with the bodice of her gown, covering her bare breasts.             

"
Yes, I found out. I saw her with my own eyes and I knew I had  to keep you out of her clutches."  Her tone was defensive as if she had done something wrong.  Uncertainly, she met his gaze.  His face was cold and implacable, without even a hint of the desire once etched there.

"Her clutches..?"

"I thought perhaps that you and she….killed him and…tonight was a test!” she blurted.

“A test?” Nicholas was angered that Alandra once more doubted him.

“I…I thought it to be no accident that she was in the audience.”

“Well, it was!” Who was she to take it upon herself to decide whether or not he should see a woman? This episode tonight was more in keeping with Morgana’s temperament than Alandra’s.  “And so you made certain that I was preoccupied.”

“I’m no fool, Christopher.” Oh, how his reaction wounded her. “’T is obvious to see even now how taken you are with her.” He didn’t deny it and that made her heart ache anew. “I...I only wanted to make certain you were careful.

She wanted to say more, anything to break the suddenly hostile silence that was growing between them
.  The words stuck in her throat. 

He looked utterly disappointed.  "I had thought you to be without wiles, but clearly you have played a clever game, Alandra.  One which nearly cos
t you a great deal.”

Rising from the bed
, he hurriedly dressed. He reached the door in five quick strides, yet his hand paused on the latch as he turned back to look at her, frustrated and angry.  Not at her but at himself and what he had nearly allowed himself to do, despite his vows.

"You should have told me what you were about.  Why didn't you.  Why t
his masquerade of desiring me?" he demanded sharply.

“
Think what you will, Christopher,” she hurried to say. “If you look into your own heart,  you might be willing to admit the same could be said of you.”
I still want you, that has not changed
, she thought.

He dared not look into his heart for fear of what he might discover.  He was perilously close to feeling an emotion he was unprepared to feel, thus he forced himself to turn away from her again
, his voice gruff as he fought to hide his passion.  "We will forget this ever happened, Alandra.  You have my promise that I will not forget myself again, no matter how tempting the provocation.  If you will not guard your virtue, then I will.  I owe it to your father." 

Without another word he left the room, leaving Alandra to stare after him in startled dismay.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Lord Chamberlain's Men took little time to savor their triumph in Faversham.  After two more performances they moved on to
Rye, a lively old walled town along the coast.  The company’s performance in the small medieval town was even more successful than those at Faversham. 
Due in no small part to the fact that Christopher’s presence on stage was minimal
, Nicholas thought wryly, for which he was grateful..

As for his relationship with
Alandra, it was fragile at best. As the players moved from town to town, Nicholas put more and more distance between himself and the stage man's daughter.  Stung bys her constant suspicion of him, he had made a promise to himself not to be tempted by her again.  But oh, at what a price!  The threatening peril of his own contentment.  Alandra Thatcher had become an obsession, no matter how vehemently he tried to deny it.

By daylight she attracted his gaze, at night she haunted his dreams.  He was taken by the wench, even more so now that he had come so close to making love to her.  The entrancing vision of her bare breasts hovered before his eyes whether he was asleep or awake.  So beautiful.  So perfect. Nicholas wouldn't have been a bit surprised if every man in the company was able to read his desire as plainly as the road map which guided them  southward, beyond the North Downs. 
Dover was the site of the famous white cliffs, yet Nicholas noticed little of the scenery.  His eyes were focused on  another splendor, riding on the wagon beside her father. She was an enchantress with the most beguiling eyes. 

And an infuriating stubbornness
, he thought bitterly. Was she going to condemn him as a villain of the worst kind every  time her  mind gave in to suspicion? How was he going to convince her that he was not a devious kind of man? A man who would coldheartedly murder another for the sake of lust or ambition?

Anger was a barrier he hastily erected between them to still his longings, to keep her carefully out of his reach.
And all the while the truth was he wanted naught but to run to her, to gather her into his arms again, to finish that which they had so delightfully begun.

“To take her virtue,” he muttered, reminding himself once again that he was a much better man for leaving an innocent young woman alone
. A tryst between them was not meant to be. He had to accept that and thus put Alandra out of his heart and head.

A
s to Morgana,  Nicholas had heard the story from Shakespeare the next morning.  Morgana had not known his identity after all, but had merely been tempted into a dalliance with a handsome actor.  Shakespeare had taken Morgana aside, had fabricated a story  that the actor in question was very happily married and at the moment enjoying a private supper with his doting wife, one who was exceedingly jealous and prone to violent moods.  Morgana had responded by leaving the inn after barely a half hour's time, insisting her duty to the poor aging Lord Burghley called her away.

So much for her avowals of undying love!  At first his ego had suffered
, but now Nicholas was relieved.  It was over.  Once and for all.  The spell she had cast on him had been broken.  Nor would she ever know that her eyes had been drawn to him.  He was safe from her chattering tongue.  Rescued by a beguiling young lady.

"Alandra....."  He tried not to look at her
, but God's eyebrows, how she drew his eyes again and again.  He relished the sight of her, and yet at the same time it caused him  pain, an agony of unfulfilled longing.  Never before had being so honorable made him so unhappy. 

If only he
had not been so cleverly seduced by Morgana and proven himself to be the greatest of fools!" But he had been, and had lost everything because of it.  He was naught but a fugitive now, a man pretending to be a struggling actor.  A man who had lost control of his destiny.  Once he was the most eligible man at court, now he was nearly a pauper. A man on the run. The target of Elizabeth’s anger. A man who might very well be caught and spend the rest of his life in the Tower—of worse yet be executed. Hardly the perfect prospect for a lover.

But what
if he could clear his name and regain his favor at court? Become Sir Nicholas Leighton again. Instead of solving his dilemma it only complicated the matter. The bitter truth was that  he could never offer Alandra more than a scandalous union.  Mistress never wife!  Elizabeth would never approve of one of her noblemen marrying a young woman who had neither title nor fortune.  The queen would be unrelenting in her scrutiny of any woman he would want to make his bride.  Alandra was, as she said, a young woman of humble origins, and thus in the end the queen would refuse him his wish, just as she had with her other courtiers.  Alandra was too fine a woman to be put through such an indignity.

"Stay away from her!  For once in your life think with your brain and not with your cock
, Nicholas.  For the love of God!" he whispered beneath his breath.  Quickly he looked away from Alandra lest he be enticed away from his better judgment by large brown eyes and a dimpled smile.

“Have you been to
Dover before?”              

"I beg your pardon?"  Nicholas suddenly realized that William Kempe had ridden up
as he muttered to himself.

“I asked if you had ever been to
Dover before?”

“
Never!"  Why he lied Nicholas didn't know.  What harm would there have been in mentioning one previous journey? Even so, Nicholas was on his guard.

“I don’t really know much about you, Chr
istopher. You never talk about yourself,” Kempe was saying now.

Nicholas stiffened. A man on the run couldn’t take the chance of becoming too friendly, especially when he had to keep looking over his shoulder, fearing that someday he would be recognized and the cocoon of safety he had woven around himself would crumble.

“There isn’t much t tell,” Nicholas said defensively. “I’m afraid, if the truth were told, I am a very boring fellow.”

“I doubt that. There is something about you that tells me you are very adventurous.” Kempe seemed determined to break through the shell Nicholas had erected around himself. “That you might have even been a soldier at one time in your life. Were you
?”

“Most assuredly not!” Nicholas realized he had spoken a bit too harshly. Kempe was probably only trying to further their friendship. He had no reason to be suspicious. “At least not in real life,” he amended.
“But I have taken the part of a soldier many times.”

“Aha! I’m not a bit surprised. You have the strength and build to play such parts. Not like me.” He rubbed his hands over his ribs. “Too thin.”

They rode awhile before Kempe spoke again. “I’m looking forward to Dover. Aren’t you?”

“Aye, I suppose.” Because of his mood, it was diff
icult for Nicholas to sound too enthusiastic. The trip was becoming tedious, and he longed for the simple luxuries of life. Being constantly on the move was beginning to get to him.

“
Dover has a regular local audience so we will have no worries of attracting a crowd there. It is always full of travelers.” Kempe was obviously trying to lift Nicholas’s sagging spirits. The tawny-haired man smiled, revealing his deep dimples.  "You have a treat in store.  I'll show you around."  It was a genuine offer of friendship. 

"I'd like that."  Nicholas returned the smile.   It was impossible not to like the curly-haired, amiable man.  Besides, he had need of friends.   "It would help me appreciate the finer points of the town to have a knowledgeable guide."

"Dover has many attractions, from the great castle frowning over the town from its position high up on the cliff top to the ships riding at anchor, a reminder of the queen's victory over Spain nearly ten years ago when two galleons of the Spanish Armada were wrecked on the nearby Goodwin Sands."

"Ah yes......"  Nicholas remembered that victory very well, ha
ving taken part in the battle.

Looking out across the shortest route between England and the continent
, it was rumored that on a clear day one could see the coast of France from atop the white cliffs.  If only he could view it with Alandra at his side.   Without realizing it, he turned his gaze in her direction.

“You can’t keep your eyes from her.”

“What?” Nicholas damned himself for being so careless as to give himself away.

“You are quite taken with her.” Kempe reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Don’t be embarrassed. Certainly, the two of you would look very good together. She’s a pretty and saucy young woman.”

“She’s not for me! She’s too young and inexperienced. And I am not the marrying kind!” he said emphatically while he recalled the way she had felt in his arms. Night after night he had tossed and turned, remembering.

Kempe’s grin was devilish. “Is any man truly the marrying kind?” As they passed a farmer’s daughter along the way, he threw her a kiss. “Ay;, but the women in
Dover. I’ll take you with me to one of the taverns when we get there. You’ll see.”

Alandra heard Kempe’s words as the wagon passed by. Let Christopher go! What care she? Tavern wenches were more in keeping with his taste, were they not? As well as aristocratic shrews! She didn’t care a whit what he did!

An easy thing to pretend, yet the truth was she had thought often about that night when he had caressed her. His fingers had brought forth fire wherever they had touched her, causing her body to ache with suppressed passion even at the memory. She was assailed by bitter disappointment that she and Christopher had not made love. She sensed that no other man would ever arouse within her the fierce, all-consuming emotions that he had.

Even looking at  Christopher
stirred her.  Unable to resist glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she noted that he had removed his doublet and had rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt.  The cords of the neckline were loosened to reveal a wide expanse of bare chest, tanned now by the sun.  His black hair, longer than it was when first she saw him, tickled the lace of his collar as he threw back his head to look up at the sky.  Alandra was overcome with the uncontrollable urge to call out to him, to flirt openly with him. Only her pride kept her from such an action.   She would not go to him; he would have to come to her. That was the secret of an  interesting woman, or so she had heard Will say. The unobtainable was always the most desirable.

As to his coldness toward her, she found it deplorable. He had been acting surly, angry that she had suspected him once again. To her way of thinking, he deserved no apology. She had done him no wrong in desiring him or in saving him from the clutches of that yellow-haired witch. Why then was he acting like such a cur?

"Alandra!  Keep the wagon on the road!" 

Murray
's screech alerted her, and pulling at the reins she guided the horses back to the center of the path.

"Alandra.  Girl!" 

Murray's face was grimaced in a familiar expression.  It meant he was about to give her a lecture.  She was all too aware of his scrutiny as he climbed through the curtained opening to sit beside her.

"I'm sorry, Father.  The sun was in my eyes."

Murray cocked his head.  "The sun or Christopher Nicholas's strong frame?"

She opened
her mouth to protest, but thought better of it.  Murray could read her like an open book.

"Speaking of Christopher,
what is wrong between you?  He doesn't hover around you any more."  His tone of disappointment was nearly as mournful as her own.

"Nothing is wrong.
I just think it is time he got along on his own. After all, he did study with one of the greatest actors.”

Murray
took off his hat and wiped his forehead. "Yes.  Yes!  I suppose so."

Alandra sought hastily to change the subject.  "
King John
was a most appropriate drama to choose for England's southlands, don't you agree?  Will told me the Magna Carta was signed at Runnymede in Surrey."

Murray
was not to be so easily distracted.  He got right back to the subject he wanted to talk about.  "He is a strong man, a fine man, one suitable in every way for you, Alandra.  I had feared you'd never meet your match, a man worthy of you.  I was just certain no man would be able to curb your willfulness but the moment I first laid eyes upon him I knew.  I knew he was the one!"  He nudged her in the ribs.  "And you were taken with him too.  Admit it!"

"All right, I was.  T
o tell you nay would make a liar of me, but......"

"It's time you found a husband, girl.  With little dowry I had cause to worry, but an actor is a perfect choice.  I will but give him my share in the acting company in lieu of money.  'T
will be perfect.  Perfect."  He chuckled at the brilliance of his carefully thought out plan.

Murray
's laughter brought only a frown from Alandra. If only her father knew the truth, he would have little cause for humor. Christopher Nicholas was a nobleman who would want much more in way of dowry than a poor stage man could ever offer.  Worse yet, he was a nobleman on the run.

"Please, Father, let's have no talk of marriage.  It is unseemly and untimely."