Return of the Rose (11 page)

His stallion whinnied and relief flooded through his veins as they neared Swan Lake. He knew fair well that he could not take much more of this tortuous ride. With Amanda’s buttocks resting full against him he was already as hard as stone.

Bringing his stallion to a halt, he lifted her off of his lap and placed her gently on the ground. Her face had lost all color as if she truly had been afraid for her life.

As he took the stallion toward a group of trees to provide shelter against the sun, he recalled what Emmon had said about Lady Amanda being an experienced rider. If that were true, then what was she afraid of? Surely she was not trying to put on an act for his benefit, pretending to be the fair and chaste maiden. What kind of fool did she take him for? Besides, had she not dared him to finish what he started?

He shook his head as he secured the reins. He wanted her, and thus he would have her. It was as easy as that. Nothing here to stop him now, not even his own foolish thoughts. He needed to get some work done. Until he had her beneath him, once and for all, ‘twas useless trying to accomplish anything else. The woman was like a leech on the brain, sucking all reasonable, intelligent thoughts until there was naught but mush. He would not allow this incessant mind-wandering to continue. She was his betrothed, by God, and bedding her would be his right soon enough.

~~~~

Morgan steadied herself by an oak as she watched him jump from his horse and tie the reins around a branch. Without hesitation, nor modesty, he began to throw off his clothes, one piece at a time, until he was completely naked.

Her eyes nearly popped from their sockets. She quickly directed her gaze toward the ground and tried to catch her breath. When she resumed a fairly reasonable breathing pattern, she felt compelled to take a peek…or two. She hadn’t seen him naked in the light of day. Heck, she hadn’t seen him naked in the dark either, but she was confident no man would come close to what she was seeing now.

The sunlight struck his profile just so, giving her a striking view of his handsome face. He had a full but firm mouth and a cleft in his chin. His neck was thick, straight and powerful, which by scanning lower she could see was synonymous to the rest of him. Her cheeks grew hot, her palms moist.

He headed for the lake. Standing near the water’s edge, he looked like a proud warlord, sun-bronzed and weather-toughened. Even the scars of battle etched across his backside added to his picturesque stance. Dizziness swept over her. Only after he dove into the icy water was she able to regain her composure.

A knot constricted her throat as she tried to decide what to do. She wanted him; that much she knew. Losing her virginity wasn’t the problem…she’d been hoping and yearning that the right man would come along for years now. But losing her heart was another matter altogether. She tried to envision making love to him today and then returning home, to the future, without him.

A cold fist clamped over her heart. She couldn’t make love to him. Any intimacy between them would only hurt them both when it came time for her to leave. And she felt unreasonably certain that the time would come sooner rather than later.

She stood, paralyzed, fighting with her emotions, when Derek emerged from the lake. Hadn’t she heard somewhere that men took cold showers to cool their sexual appetites? Well, she’d have to tell all the world when she returned that cold water didn’t always work. She had indisputable proof coming right at her. She couldn’t move. She had turned into bark and was now a fundamental part of the tree behind her.

Derek didn’t just walk toward her; he hypnotized her, his gaze hot and mercurial as he came toward her. He appeared feral, as if he were hunting her down without benefit of any weapons. Except perhaps one very large, dangerous yet unique looking weapon. Her cheeks flared with heat. What was it about this man that made her lose all sense?

Without another single thought, she put her body in motion and ran. She ran as fast as she could, toward the only thing that could get her away fast enough and far enough. She ran toward the horse.

~~~~

Derek watched with amusement as his betrothed tried hopelessly to mount his steed. His stallion swished its tail and let out a few whinnied snorts as though she were naught but an irritating fly.

Openly frustrated, she attempted her fourth jump onto the horse’s back. She grasped at its mane and wiggled her legs until she was almost three-quarters of the way up, straining, until finally she reached the top of the animal.

Derek headed that way and reached out a hand to stop her, but it was too late. She dug her heals into the horse’s flanks, unaware that this particular stallion needed no goading. The horse reared up and took off in a blinding flash with Lady Amanda clinging dearly to its neck.

Hastily, he grabbed his breeches and yanked them on. In the distance he could see that the reins were about the horse’s neck, but the straps were not within her hands. She clearly had no idea what she was doing. Apparently she wished to live, though, since she leaned low against the horse’s neck to prevent being clunked in the head by a tree branch.

Every muscle he possessed grew taut.
Bloody hell
. ‘Twas his favorite steed and he had no wish to see the animal hurt. The horse raced into the denser area of the forest, weaving through trees and jumping over small bushes. Derek heard naught but the cracking of branches as he made his way into the forest.

The wench was daft. Clearly Emmon had been wrong about Lady Amanda being an experienced rider. The woman had no clue as to what she was doing.

Derek whistled as he jumped over a low shrub following the path of broken tree limbs. One signal from his lips was all it usually took to get his steed to return to his side. He used the whistle as a signal for hunting when he needed to leave the animal behind and sneak up on his prey, after which he would signal for the horse’s return. But no one had ever been foolish enough to take his horse before. The animal needed only a small jerk of the reins or a click of the tongue.
God’s teeth
!
Not a kick in the ribs
.

He whistled once more, emitting a loud shrill. He kept running, too, grunting with relief when he finally heard the familiar neigh of his horse. His heart stopped when he saw his stallion heading toward him without a rider on its back.

Seconds later he observed the wench hobbling through the last of the thick underbrush. Twigs dangled from her hair and dirt smudged her face. Before reaching him, she crumbled to the ground in one small heap.

~~~~

Morgan opened her eyes. She was numb. So numb she wasn’t even sure if she was alive. Not until she looked up into stormy black eyes as Derek hovered over her. Obviously Mr. Vanguard was not impressed with her riding skills. The tic in his jaw was deeper than ever. But at least he had put on his pants. Now when she looked away from his piercing stare, she had only his naked chest with black curly hair trailing eagerly downward to gaze at. “You’re angry, aren’t you?”

“Damn it, wench,” he ground out, “you could have been killed.”

She pushed herself to her feet. “I’m sorry,” she offered, rubbing a sore arm, “but you have to admit this was all your fault.”

He shook his head as he walked back toward his horse. He pulled the reins from around the animal’s neck and led the animal back through the trees to where the remainder of his clothes lay.

She heard him mutter something about an addle-pated monkey. Frowning, she hobbled in pursuit of him, afraid he would leave her in the forest to fend for herself. “I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I thought that after the way you treated me last night, you would at least apologize. One minute I’m convinced you care for me in an odd, medieval sort of way, and in the next minute you act as though I don’t exist.”

A splay of muscles flexed as he donned his tunic, rendering her temporarily speechless. She rolled her eyes at how easily he could distract her. “Don’t you have anything to say at all?”

He focused his attention on adjusting the leather sash around his waist.

“Fine then; don’t talk to me.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “You know what really bothers me, though?”

He finished with the ties on his shirt and looked into her eyes. “Would it stop your prattle were I to tell you I do not care to know?”

“What really gets my goat,” she went on, ignoring his remark, “is that you drag me here, expecting me to…” Her stomach fluttered. “You know…act as if I’m going to be thrilled at the prospect of…”

The corner of his mouth turned upward.

At a sudden loss for words, she wondered why she’d started this conversation in the first place.

“Continue, please,” he said. “You suddenly have me vastly curious as to what you believe I expected of you.”

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll tell you. You brought me here fully expecting that we would make love to one another.”

“Ha!” he said, startling her. “You are wrong.”

Her insides tumbled. “I am?”

“Aye. Two people can only make love, you see, if they are in love. I do not love you. Do you love me?”

“Of course not, but—”

He raised a hand. “Let us clear the air, so to speak. You wanted me and I wanted you. No use denying the truth,” he added huskily. “‘Twas made plain in every ragged breath you took last night and in every candidly scorching gaze you have sent my way since our first meeting.”

Her mouth fell open.

He stepped close, smoothing the palm of his hand up the column of her neck. “We both know I brought you here in hopes that you would be a willing participant in some meaningless, yet highly intensive sex.” He dropped his hand. “Clear enough?”

She let out a helpless sigh as she realized she was a glutton for punishment. The way he touched her, not to mention listening to him speak so candidly made shivers coarse over every part of her. “Patently clear,” she said softly. “But this entire conversation has nothing to do with the point I was first trying to make.”

“Pray tell, please make your point, madam, before the sun goes off and leaves us for good.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she said. “You make fun of me every chance you get. And when you’re not doing that, you’re bombarding me with charming advances and hasty exits until my head is left spinning like the vanes of a windmill. Where I come from, the man brings the woman flowers, maybe a note, perhaps a kind word. Anything to make the woman at least feel like kissing…or what you might refer to as two interacting bodies going at it.”

“Hmmm,” he said, scratching his chin. “I fair say your description is unappealing at best.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “But please answer me this: why is it that the other night you seemed more than willing?” He rubbed again at his stubbled jaw. “I do not recall bringing flowers, nor sending any note before then.”

“Oh, forget it,” she said exasperated. “I don’t know why I bother talking to you at all. Besides, if you ever brought me flowers I would fall over dead from shock.”

Derek gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and started off. After a moment he glanced back her way and saw that she’d hardly moved. Hastily, he returned to her side. “You can hardly walk. Let me see to your injuries.”

“Don’t bother,” she said.

“You are hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“I am going to take a look with or without your permission. The choice is yours.”

“Fine.” She lifted her torn dress and watched him wince at the sight of red and blue marks against her pale skin.

With a click of his tongue, Derek called his horse to his side once again. He shuffled through the leather pouch attached to the girth and came up with a tin box filled with a greasy concoction. Plunking down on one knee, he began to apply the ointment to her thigh.

She sucked in a breath, feeling no pain, only the gentle touch of his fingers. When he finished, she wasn’t sure whether she felt relief or disappointment.

“That was a foolish thing you did,” he said.

“I know.”

He seemed taken aback by her quick agreement. After putting the ointment away, he pivoted back around and leaned forward.

Sure that he was going to kiss her and forgetting all about not wanting anything to do with him, she closed her eyes and waited with tingly anticipation for the feel of his warm lips on hers. His hands gripped both sides of her waist instead. A gasp escaped her as he raised her high in the air and plopped her on his horse.

Taking hold of the reins, he flashed her one of his subtle looks that said “gotcha,” before leading them homeward.

“There, you did it again,” she said.

“And what is that?” he asked without glancing back at her.

“Oh, never mind.” Her thoughts tumbled as she wondered what she was going to do about him.

CHAPTER 7

Days later, Derek shut his ledger and looked across his writing table at Emmon. “I thought you told me Lady Amanda could ride as well as any man.”

“My lord, the woman is trouble,” Emmon said, exasperation lining his voice. “She is a two-timing thief who continues to weave a maze of falsehoods day after day…” Emmon paused in mid sentence. “I apologize, my lord, but the wench…I mean the lady sorely raises my ire. Was it not you who taught me that women ply men with ale and strange herbs so they can take their moneybag while they are sleeping? Well, you were right about that, except this one took my horse instead.”

Derek rubbed his jaw, trying to hide the amusement the young knight provided him.

“When Hugo and I followed Lady Amanda’s trail after she escaped ‘twas obvious she was a skilled rider. She rode as fast as any storm, she did.”

“I do not understand it,” Derek said. “That was no act she put on the other day. She has not a clue as to how to ride a horse properly. She could barely sit on the animal without teetering to one side.”

“I am telling you she has gotten under your skin, my lord. Like a leech, and even now—”

“You do not trust her,” Derek broke in.