Once He Loves (Medieval 3)

Just as the owner of the hostelry cleared his throat.

Loudly.

Briar leaned back against Ivo’s chest, warm beneath the folds of her cloak, while the horse moved smoothly beneath them. Her body was unfulfilled, but the ache had faded somewhat. Ivo had been grumpy when they left, glaring at the man as if he would like to run him through. His display of bad temper had eased Briar’s, and she smiled.

“Next time you must find a private chamber that is not so popular, de Vessey.”

Ivo grunted and gave her a cross look. “I did not know it was popular when I reserved it, demoiselle. I thought you would need a place to recover yourself, that was all.”

“Was it?” she mocked, not quite so amused now. “So you arranged with the innkeeper to bring me there? Well, it seems others were also keen to avail themselves of his chamber. There was a queue outside the door, de Vessey. The host had no choice but to hurry us along.”

“Curse him.”

Briar laughed in delight. The sound surprised her; she had not laughed like that in a long time. She wondered if she should force a frown, suppress her high spirits. ’Twas not wise to feel so alive, not safe—if she had learned one thing in the past two years, then ’twas that. But she did not want to lose this lightness inside her, this new sense of optimism.

Deliberately, she leaned back into Ivo’s chest, ignoring his restless shiftings, and put her palm on his thigh.

He jumped as if she had been red hot, and removed her hand.

“Demoiselle,” he said through gritted teeth, “it is not safe for you to touch me yet.”

“Taking me to Sir Anthony has not altered my mind, you know,” she said. “I still believe Radulf arranged Anna’s death because she was inconvenient to him. Nothing else makes sense.”

“She was inconvenient to many,” Ivo muttered, shifting about again. “What of the others? You need to discover who her lovers were, near to the time of her death.”

Briar snuggled against him, returning her hand to his hard thigh. She loved the movement of muscle under his skin, but she would never tell him that.

“You are right,” she said, surprising herself and him. “Aye, I would know how matters lay between my father and Anna in those last days. I need to know for my own sake as much as theirs.”

He was silent a moment, and she pretended to gaze about her at the busy, narrow street, pretended that she was not totally aware of him, close behind her.

“I will help you.”

Briar tilted her head back so that she could see him properly. He glanced down at her, gave her a faint, knowing smile, and then concentrated on the road ahead.

“Why will you help me?” she demanded, not sure herself why his offer was so important to her. “Is it because you believe Radulf to be innocent?”

“There is that, aye,” he said thoughtfully, and removed her hand from his thigh. “But that is not really why I want to help, lady. It is because you need to be free of this burden you have placed upon yourself. ’Tis a heavy weight for you to bear.”

“’Tis not so heavy.” Briar knew that was the truth. ’Twas only her vow that held her to her task now. The dark, tattered cloak of hatred she had worn for two years was gone. How had he done that? She didn’t know, only that when Ivo had come into her life, it had begun to change.

“But you are right,” she went on, slipping her hand back onto his leg, smoothing the tight stuff of his breeches. “I do need to know the truth. Anna’s murderer must be found and punished. Only then can I and my sisters make a new life, without pain.”

“Then that is what we will do.”

“You have no doubts, do you, Ivo?” she asked curiously. He sounded so certain, so confident.

“Demoiselle, I have many doubts, but they will not stop me from finding your stepmother’s killer.” He smiled without humor, taking her hand firmly in his and holding it captive. “I want you, Briar, and until the past is dealt with, until you are free of it, you will never be able to give yourself fully to any man.”

Briar gazed ahead, knowing that he spoke the truth.

I want you too, Ivo.

The words sounded in her head, but unlike Ivo she was not yet ready to say them aloud.

Chapter 8

Lord Shelborne’s hall was the same as it had been the first night he saw her. The night he took her in his arms, and made her his. The frustrated ache in his body reminded Ivo of their moments together at the hostelry, and her willingness. He had been so, so close to losing himself once again in her sweet body. And she had wanted him, too. He felt her soft mouth on his skin, her trembling hands within moments of taking hold of him and…