He felt a surge of impatience at her for acting like a whipped puppy. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said harshly. “I fully intend to sleep in my own bed, with you. I will not take you. But you will become used to me. When you are well again and have added flesh, you will become my wife.”
He rose and pulled off the rest of his clothes. “Look at me, Kassia,” he said.
Kassia raised her eyes. He was standing by the bed, sublimely indifferent in his nakedness. He felt her eyes roving over his body, and despite himself, his member swelled. He quickly eased into bed beside her. He heard her erratic breathing.
“The scar, my lord,” she said hesitantly.
“Which one?”
“The one on your leg that goes to your—”
“My groin?”
“Aye. How did you get it?”
“In a tournament in France, some ten years ago. I was careless and my opponent was quick to take advantage of it.”
“And the scar on your shoulder?”
He was silent for many moments. “That,” he said slowly, “was a gift from a lady.”
“I do not understand.”
“ ’Tis a very long story. Perhaps someday I will tell you about it. Now go to sleep, Kassia. Tomorrow, if you are feeling strong, we will go riding.”
“Yes, my lord.”
But she did not close her eyes until she heard his deep even breathing. She pictured his body, so different from hers, and felt her face grow hot. She had been taught modesty. Evidently men were not. Blanche was right, she thought, huddling near the edge of the bed, her knees drawn to her chest. He would hurt her. She tried to imagine him covering her as a stallion would a mare, and penetrating her body. She quivered with dread. How would she bear the pain?
11
Graelam turned in his saddle at the sound of Kassia’s bright laughter. A sea gull was swooping down, nearly touching her shoulder, and she tossed another bit of bread high into the air. The gull squawked loudly, and dived to catch it.
She guided Bluebell forward to escape the half-dozen gulls now gathering behind her, and reined in beside him, her eyes crinkling with pleasure.
Graelam gazed at her, remembering again how she had looked early that morning, her legs drawn to her chest, her pillow hugged in her arms. He had reached out his hand and gently touched the soft curl over her temple. A sudden fierce protectiveness had flooded him and he had quickly drawn back his hand, angry at himself for his weakness. His abruptness with her when she had come into the great hall to break her fast had made her draw back and gaze at him uncertainly. He had left the hall quickly, aware of the silent condemnation from Drake, his master armorer, and Blount, his steward.
Damn them for not minding their own business, he thought now, but he smiled back at her, unable to help himself.
“Oh! Look, my lord!”
He followed Kassia’s pointing finger to the sea lion who was diving in the waves. They had ridden to the southern boundaries of Graelam’s land, then turned downward along the coastline.
“Would you care to rest awhile?” he asked her.
She nodded happily, still watching the sea lion.
He swung off Demon and tied him to a wind-bowed cedar, then clasped his hands around Kassia’s waist and lifted her down.
She walked quickly to the edge of the cliff while he secured Bluebell’s reins. It was a bright, windy day and Kassia lifted her face to the sun, feeling it warm her. She turned to see Graelam unfasten his cloak and spread it on the ground.
She sat down as would a child, her legs crossed in front of her. Graelam joined her, stretching out on his back, resting on his elbows.
“The man who was hurt this morning,” she said. “Is he all right now?”
“Aye,” Graelam said shortly, disliking to be reminded of his own stupidity. He had pushed his men too hard after he had left the hall, until one of them, careless from fatigue, had been h
urt.