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Authors: Julia Latham

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They could still see each other in the gloom of the tent. He slid his hands slowly down her arms, then captured one hand and lifted it, making a show of examining it.

“Rabbit grease,” he whispered, then met her eyes.

She held her breath, knowing what he intended, but still unable to believe the melting, sinful feeling of watching him lick the tip of her finger, then suck
it slowly into his mouth. Had she truly made him feel this way—in public? Surely she couldn’t have affected
him,
a man of the world, who had women falling into his bed right and left.

Then he released her hand, slid an arm about her waist, cupped her face with his hand, and leaned down to kiss her. She knew what to do, what to expect, but even then, she barely withheld a moan of pleasure as his mouth covered hers. Parting her lips willingly, she engaged in the dance of sweet kisses, reveling in the sensation as he suckled her lower lip, pressed gentle kisses to the corner of her mouth. It was she who initiated more, who tasted his lips with her tongue. And when at last his tongue swept into her mouth, she gave a welcome groan of gladness.

Feverishly they kissed, locked in each other’s embrace. She pressed harder against him, on fire, as if she needed his touch to ease her ardor. She plunged her hands into his hair, feeling its silky fullness as she molded his head and held him to her. Her body took over, arching against him, knowing instinctively what she wanted.

His hand dropped to her hip, curving around her backside, pulling her into him, up onto her toes, lifting and separating her thighs until she felt the bold pressure of his erection against her most sensitive flesh.

And then she knew why the League had seen to all
of her training—she knew where this would go, what would happen. She would have to be the one to stop it.

She broke the kiss and leaned back in his arms. “Nay, Paul.”

Bladesmen were patrolling all around them, separated by mere canvas walls. They’d be overheard, and she knew no one would blame Paul for taking what she’d been openly offering as his concubine. But she would never be one of them again.

Her teacher had tried to warn her of a woman’s needs, of how her body could overwhelm her mind—and Juliana had privately scoffed.

She felt humbled by this new knowledge of the powerful desire that could ignite between a man and a woman.

How could she feel so drawn to a man she couldn’t understand, who wanted nothing to do with the society of men who’d saved her?

Paul’s eyes were hooded, slumbering, even as he cupped her face in both hands. “Juliana—”

“I will not do anything to compromise our mission. This ends now.”

Chapter 7

P
aul stared down into Juliana’s dark, earnest eyes. Her cheeks were soft in his hands, her mouth a wonder as he rubbed his thumb along her full lower lip. He’d lost himself in her, her passionate response, in the very taste of her. It was … overwhelming.

Slowly, he let his hands slide from her body. For just a moment, he could still feel the pressure of her breasts against his chest, the indentation between her thighs. And then they were apart, two people again.

“Aye, you are right to stop,” he said, his voice husky, too revealing. He cleared his throat. What was wrong with him? He was never so uncontrolled, so lost in the wonder of a woman.

And Juliana, yet! A woman who’d once been under his protection.

“So we can return to our roles, to pretend this never happened,” she said calmly.

“Aye, we’ll do our best. But forget?” He looked at her mouth, and even now he wanted to take it with his own,
to have the rest of her, regardless of the consequences. “Nay, that will not be so easy, fair Juliana.”

With a sigh, he turned to look at the pallet they would share, keeping true to their cover story.

And now he was supposed to keep his hands off her?

He only had himself to blame.

Soon he was lying beside her, staring at the way the firelight flickered on the canvas ceiling of their pavilion. He could hear her breathing, knew she was still awake. He tried to listen to the conversation of the Bladesmen on duty, the insects buzzing, the howl of a dog somewhere in the distance.

Yet still he noticed Juliana’s subtle movements.

“You are not sleeping,” he said at last.

She stirred, and for a moment he thought she would pretend otherwise.

“Nay, I’m not.”

The moment stretched out, and he wondered if she was thinking of the kiss, and unfulfilled desires. She well understood what they were missing. And he was still hard with wanting her. He had to think of something else.

“So how many missions have you undertaken for the League?”

“Several,” she answered promptly, as if she were just as glad for the distraction.

“Deliberately vague.”

“Following the dictates of the League.”

“To the letter,” he responded with faint sarcasm.

“Of course.”

She sounded so proud of herself.

“I know you will not speak of the specifics,” he said, “but did you meet with much danger?”

“Nay, I was but a minor player, exchanging messages, gathering information for future missions.”

“So this is your first major assignment.”

She sighed. “Aye, it is. And now you see why ‘tis so important for me to do it well.”

“And I would not stop you.”

“Not on purpose.”

“Juliana, I am stung by such a conclusion.”

“I am not blaming you, Paul. I certainly share the blame, for we both have to behave so … intimately in public. ‘Tis only natural that once we’re alone again, ‘tis difficult to forget what we’ve just been doing.”

And this wasn’t helping, he thought.

“Do you know Diana, the first Bladeswoman?” she asked.

“Aye, I was introduced when she trained at the fortress.”

“I have only met her twice, but she is the sort of woman I wish to be. She is the reason the League gave me a chance to become a member.”

Paul disagreed with that, but did not plan to say so.
“Were you able to have a conversation with her? I imagine she could share her experiences as a woman among men.”

“I hope to someday. She is with child now, and has temporarily withdrawn from assignments.”

“She seems to have combined a real life with the League. What about you, Juliana?”

“‘Tis not so important to me.”

He turned his head to look at her.

“I have never been as other women.”

“You seem just like any woman,” he said dryly.

“But how would you know, Paul?”

Her voice was quiet, even tinged with a chill. He’d said something wrong.

“You were not raised in the outside world, as I was,” she continued. “I was never at ease there. I spent my childhood on the tiltyard, playing with all the little boys. ‘Twas a shame we couldn’t trade childhoods—we might have liked that better.”

“You were so unhappy with your family?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” she whispered.

He thought her voice sounded tight and sad with memories.

“My parents indulged me more than most would. I learned to throw a dagger and use a wooden sword along with the boys. I was permitted this as long as I spent part of each day at my studies, and learning
women’s duties. But as I grew older, the boys began to change toward me.”

“Can you blame them?” he asked, hoping to lighten her mood.

“I did then. They either pulled away, since I was the daughter of their lord, or attempted to become too close.” She sighed. “I think my parents expected me to realize the foolishness of what I was doing, but at last, they grew tired of waiting. My father forbade me the tiltyard, and confined my days to the women of the castle. He was grooming me for marriage because he had no son, and wanted to see me and my dowry well placed. His distant cousin would inherit the viscountcy—this was before the title was taken away from the family—and Father perhaps harbored a wish that this cousin and I would marry.”

“And did you wish that?” he asked, imagining a chosen husband as another thing the League took away from her.

“Nay, I knew I did not matter to him as anything more than another offering of money and a body to grant him an heir. I wanted to strike him for the way he looked at me.”

Paul smiled in the darkness, glad that she couldn’t see and misread his amusement. “So you had no one you wanted for a husband.”

“No one. I was yet young; I thought I would be able to
find a man who loved me for what I was. And then …”

When she didn’t finish, he said, “Your father was taken away.”

“I learned how powerless it is to be a woman,” she said with bitterness. “My mother let herself expire in grief rather than find a way to help us.”

She died for nothing—how could he tell Juliana that?

“My parents’ last thoughts of me were of disappointment.” Her voice trailed off.

“I do not believe that,” he said firmly. “You were a loyal daughter who did as they asked, even when you did not want to.”

She cleared her throat. “‘Tis a nice fantasy, Paul, but you were not there. I would have supported my mother, even if I’d had to serve tables as a tavern wench. I vowed I would never be that helpless again.”

Her ability to believe in herself amazed him. He knew many men without that strength. “But Juliana, you could have a chance for a normal life again. Do you not want that?”

“If I can combine it with my duties with the League, but I don’t know that I can. And this comes first for me, Paul. This is my chance to repay the League for saving me.”

Saving her? he thought, almost choking on his bitterness.

After a quiet moment, she asked, “Do you have a
place in the world, Paul? Besides your brother’s home, of course.”

“I inherited a manor and land from my mother’s family.”

“How wonderful!” she cried softly, obvious delight in her voice. “Where is it?”

“I’ve never been there.”

“But … when you left the League, you did not go to see it?”

He shrugged, and that brought his shoulder in contact with hers. She pulled away.

“When I left, I could not claim my own name.”

“But now that your brother is Keswick in the eyes of the world, surely you’re curious.”

“Eventually I will be. My brother’s steward is overseeing it for me now. But I feel in no hurry to see it. I have no family there, I know none of the servants.”

“But ‘tis all yours, your own home.”

He heard the wistfulness in her voice, knew that she must feel sad that her family lost everything they’d built through generations.

“‘Tis a place for a man to marry, to have children. I won’t be doing that. I discovered while I was away—and to my surprise—that home is where my brothers are,” he said simply. And then regretted it. She had no family at all.

“Aye, you are sensible, Paul. You are a lucky man to
understand a family’s importance. But why ever would you say you will never marry?”

“Because I will not. There’s a world to explore, and I will never tire of that.” His feelings about having a wife and family were more complicated than that, but he was not about to share them with Juliana.

“But—”

“Perhaps the League has deliberately made sure neither of us can ever have a normal life,” he said, his voice impassive. “Did you ever think of that, Juliana?”

“Nay, Paul, that is not true.”

“Believe as you wish.”

She paused as if she might argue more, but then only said, “A good night to you.”

He heard her roll onto her side, and he lay there, feeling the fool. He’d brought up painful memories for her, when he was only trying to make her see that she could be a normal woman away from the League. But she parried every question, had her own beliefs. She was unshakable in her loyalty, and although he admired that, he knew that someday soon, her entire world would be shaken by the truth. She would survive the pain—and she would be free of lies.

After four days of travel—and disabling another attack before it even began—they arrived in York, northern stronghold of the House of York, once win
ners in the many battles for the kingdom, but now on the losing side. Paul knew that beneath the beauty of the town built by the Romans at the confluence of the Ouse and the Floss, tensions simmered, old wounds festered. If King Henry were ever to be safe to build a strong future for England, he had to have the loyalty of all the people, to know that his last English enemies were vanquished.

And Paul accepted the fact that he had to play the self-absorbed fool to make it all happen. His work did not need to display strength or intelligence. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

As they passed through the gates of the town, Paul glanced at Juliana. She rode with her back straight, her chin lifted regally, her cool eyes constantly assessing everything. She looked arrogant—and expensive, a woman sure of her power over the man who owned her.

Paul watched as Timothy called from his horse, asking townsmen for the finest inn, the best service. When Timothy generously tipped the boy who responded, the boy gladly guided the whole party to the Rooster and Hen. Paul demanded the best lodgings, insisting other guests be evicted—and paid them and the innkeeper for their trouble.

The good will of his money followed him into the tavern that evening. Tables were quickly cleared for the entire party. It certainly helped that Theobald took
the lead, his good eye narrowed, his expression menacing. He remained apart from the other Bladesmen, projecting his separation as if the retinue were not unified.

A serving man bowed to Paul when he came to take their order, glancing nervously at Theobald. “Is he as fearsome as we heard, milord?”

“What did you hear, good man?” Paul asked.

“A traveler just days ago must have passed your party. Yon Theobald nearly cut ‘im from his horse for simply lookin’ at yer lady.”

Paul twisted one of Juliana’s dark curls about his finger. “Aye, Theobald was part of the bargain if I wanted her. And she was worth it.”

Juliana grinned at him with the seductive promise she was so good at. And immediately he was back in the shadowy pavilion, kissing her as if he hadn’t kissed a woman in his life. He’d felt as desperate as a boy, well remembering how it had felt when at last he’d met girls.

BOOK: Sin and Surrender
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