Chapter Sixteen

S he was still sleeping when Augustin came back. He moved quietly, not wanting to wake her. He stood next to the bed where she lay and looked down at her. Her pale hair glistened in the shaft of moonlight that shone through the arrowslit. The strands beckoned to him; they looked so soft, he could not stop himself. He reached out and filled his hands with it, bringing her hair to his nose, inhaling the subtle, distinct fragrance that he would forever associate with his wife—lavender and rain.

He spread his fingers wide and watched as the silky strands sifted through his fingers, falling back against the pillow. He turned his back on her and undressed, tossing his clothes on top of the chest by the wall. Carrying his broadsword with him, he laid it on the floor next to the bed.

Laying down, he groaned as Eyreka sighed and shifted. He braced himself as she snuggled closer. She stopped when she wedged her back up against his chest. The last thing he remembered, before drifting off to sleep, was the comforting feel of her slender back pressed against him.

*

Eyreka wakened to bright sunlight and the sight of her husband’s smiling face, as he stood in the doorway to their chamber.

“Where did you sleep?”

His smile sent shafts of pleasure shooting through her. “With you.” He slipped out through the door and closed it behind him.

Eyreka lay back against the pillows and turned on her side. The faint scent of mint and lavender, her own soap, lingered on the empty pillow beside her. He had washed before coming to bed. She sighed wishing she’d had a chance to talk with him, but Augustin was a man of habit and would be consulting with his vassals right about now.

Eyreka had just scooted up in bed when Augustin strode back into the room. Her heart skipped a beat noticing how his broad shoulders filled the doorway, where he stood staring at her. The man was distracting and too good-looking for her peace of mind.

“You’re not meeting with Georges and Henri?” He always met with his vassals before breaking his fast.

“Later,” he answered.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asked, swinging her legs to the edge of the bed.

“I came to see if you felt well enough to join me in the hall.”

“Aye.” She slipped off the bed and stood on knees that threatened to buckle. “I only needed a day of rest to regain my strength.”

Steadying her, he frowned. “Mayhap you should stay in bed.”

The heat of his touch made her stomach flip. “Just give me a moment?” she asked.

“You are a stubborn woman,” he ground out.

She smiled up at him. “Thank you for noticing.”

He raised his eyes to the ceiling and mumbled something in what she guessed was his native tongue.

“And that would mean?” she prodded him.

“That I am plagued with stubborn women.”

“Oh,” she said softly. Her breath snagged in her chest, remembering the names she had overheard… Monique and Angelique.

“Would one of them be Monique?” she braved.

“Where did you hear that name?” he demanded roughly, as he guided her over to the bed.

She shrugged. “I overheard one of your guards talking.”

Augustin’s sigh sounded heartfelt. “She was my wife.”

Eyreka’s hand flew to her mouth. “I did not know… but then who is Angelique?”

His face hardened, and his jaw clenched at the mention of the other woman’s name. But Eyreka was not deterred. She had found out who Monique was, she would not give up until she learned who Angelique was. If need be, they would discuss her further terms of marriage right now. He may not have planned on marrying her, but he had. There would not be any other women in her husband’s bed.

Augustin grasped his hands behind his back and started to pace in front of her. Finally, she could not stand it any longer. “You are making me dizzy,” she protested. “Please, stop.”

He stopped in front of her and sighed. “She is my daughter.”

Eyreka closed her eyes. So much for thinking she had everything figured out, she chided herself.

“You have a daughter?” Eyreka said at last. “How old?”

Augustin resumed his pacing before answering, “Ten summers.”

“Where is she?” Eyreka asked, rising from the bed to pace alongside of him.

“With the king’s court in London. I told her I would send for her when things were settled.”

“Why did you not tell me you had a daughter?”

“Why did you not tell me you had two sons?”

“Three,” Eyreka said pausing to look up at him.

“I have only met two.”

“Aye,” she said, her voice catching, “my youngest is in Scotland with another of Garrick’s vassals, Winslow MacInness.”

“I think I have heard of him… the Scots mercenary,” he paused. “What is your son’s name?”

“Roderick,” she said sorrowfully.

“You miss him?”

“Aye. Do you not miss your daughter?”

“More than life itself.”

“Then why haven’t you sent for her?” Eyreka asked pointedly.

“I was afraid she would not be made welcome.”

Eyreka understood his hesitance then. She put her hand out beseechingly, “I would make room in my life for a daughter.”

Augustin nodded.

She smiled and silently rejoiced, a daughter!

“Mayhap we should make certain that no one question our loyalty or devotion to one another,” he said slowly.

Her gaze shot up to meet his. She understood without further explanation what he was asking. Would she be loyal to him? That he would question her integrity plagued her, “I pledged my life into your keeping,” she replied. “I do not give my word unless I mean to honor it.”

His breathtaking smile nearly melted her on the spot. “Nor I.”

“Well, then,” she said slowly, “mayhap you could hand me the dark blue bliaut… the one draped over the chair,” she said, pointing toward the far corner of the room.

Augustin picked up the garment and walked slowly toward her. “Shall I help you dress?”

She could not find her voice so she nodded, lifting her arms up over her head. Augustin slipped the overdress into place and paused to run his hands from her shoulders to her wrists.

She could not help the moan that escaped, as her husband’s hands sparked the desire that had been asleep inside of her for three years. No man had touched her since her first husband had died. She had not wanted any man to… until now.

Augustin pulled her against him, plundering her mouth with mind-numbing kisses that robbed her of the ability to stand. She sagged against him, hanging on for dear life. Still he kissed her.

His growl of desire had them both pushing away, still holding on to one another’s wrists. “I think—” she began.

“Tonight,” he said, his eyes dark with passion.

When he stepped back and offered his arm, Eyreka laid her hand upon it. They descended the stairs together, each lost in their own thoughts of the coming night and all that it would bring.