I steadied myself on his shoulder and demanded again: “Please tell me what you were going to say. ‘You take care of what’s...’”
“Nothing.” He grumbled and shook his head as he caressed my calves with his rough fingers, making me gasp at the touch, at the way the fabric pulled up, giving him a glimpse of ankle, knowing that if he continued…
Oh, God. Please save me from these thoughts.
Inch by inch, he checked me over. His touch was certain and confident.
Even entitled…
He touched me in a way that made me feel like a treasure. Something rare and fragile. Something to be guarded and revered.
As he moved up from my calves to my thighs, I ached for him to touch me where a throb pulsed between my legs. I wanted his rough fingers where I had never been touched by any but myself.
I wanted his touch to somehow stop the ache he’d created.
To my dismay and relief, although his manner was brutish, he didn’t touch me there.
Instead, he slid his hands out from under my hem, up the sides of my legs to my waist, drawing my shift tight. I felt tiny in his grip, as his thumbs glided beneath the curves of my breasts, making my nipples tighten against the rough, scratchy linen of my underdress.
As if trying to wake myself from a dream, I took a deep breath and pinched my eyes closed, then opened them again. I was being swept away in his presence and my own desire. But there was so much I needed to know.
“Why are you here?” I managed to choke out. “Why did you come here? To this house…Please tell me.”
It was a plea for the truth to be something other than what I thought. Each word tipped with the jealousy I didn’t understand but couldn’t fight.
“For a bed and a meal,” he said, without hesitation. “And, if I’m honest, for a few pints of ale to collect myself after first laying eyes on you.”
“The washerwomen told me about you,” I said, narrowing my eyes, recalling Annie’s comments.
You’re far too young and sweet to go near a brute like that.
“I’m sure they did,” he said, his tongue tracing along his bottom lip as he drew a deep breath, flaring his nostrils. His jawbone was hard and square, as though it was clenched that way during his every waking hour.
“They…they said you’re a warrior.”
“Aye. I was.” He nodded. “Though not anymore.”
That caught me by surprise. Not anymore? Then what now? “They told me you’re dangerous.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps.” His eyes traced my throat, my chest, my bosom, and my breaths came quicker as liquid heat slicked my inner thighs.
“A…” My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “A legendary lover, they said.”
He growled in response, running a massive hand over his head, his fingers spread, dark hair combed between them. “I’ve heard talk about you, as well. Angelica says your family does not treat you with kindness. That true?”
“It is,” I answered, turning my face away, embarrassed though I had no reason to be. “But that’s my life. I know no better.”
“You deserve better,” he grit out between clenched teeth. “You deserve to be worshiped.”
He traced his thumb over his lower lip, dragging it down as a shudder shook me from my core. I wanted him. I wanted this. But I mustn’t. Annie had warned me. I had seen him with Angelica. I didn’t want a reputation. Did I?
“I…have to go,” I declared, trying to sound self-assured but failing miserably. “I have to get home.”
He paused, looking me up and down, sucking on his teeth before he nodded, leaning to the side, blocking out the sun like a monolith. “Aye, I suppose you do. Besides, there are words I need to have with your father.”
He picked up my basket for me, then wrapped one strong arm around my center and began walking me out of the garden toward the King’s Highway. As we passed the pigsty, I noticed it was empty, mucky footprints leading off down the road.
“What words with my father? Do you know him?” I asked.
“Not yet. But he will know me very soon.”
My heart thundered, understanding what he meant to do. Why, I wasn’t sure, but that was not what concerned me. “He… If you go to him on my behalf...” I stammered, trying to finish. “He—I—just if you go, it could make things worse for me.”
“Nothing will get worse. Trust me.”
We marched down the road a quick pace, me doing my best to keep up as he held me around the waist, my feet barely touching the rocky surface beneath. “You shouldn’t speak to him in this mood.”
“Have to speak to him sometime. May as well be now.”
“No, I…” A lifetime of fear bubbled up inside me. I needed to distract him. If he went to my father, I was sure my life would only be a thousand times harder. “I want a kiss,” I said, the words spilling straight from my subconscious onto my lips.