Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I n the aftermath of the fleeing rooster, the sudden silence in the kitchen was unnerving. Everyone was looking around at each other, startled by what had just occurred. No attacking Welshmen? No horrific danger? After what they'd just heard, no one could quite believe it, and when the silence was finally broken, it was by Dane.

"What in the bloody hell is happening?" he demanded.

From the look on his face, Grier knew that nothing but a clean and concise answer was going to please him. She unfurled her tucked-up legs, moving to climb down off the table.

"The rooster broke in," she said. "He was trying to attack Lady Laria, but he went after all of us."

It was a simple explanation for a circumstance that had turned the kitchen upside-down. When Dane realized that the entire country of Wales hadn't broken into the kitchen, he slowly lowered his blade, feeling somewhat weak with relief. When he lowered his weapon, everyone else did, and Dastan went over to his wife, who was standing petrified against the wall with the spoon still in her hands. Dastan disarmed her of the spoon and pulled her away from the wall.

Dane, seeing that Dastan was tending to his wife, went to Grier as she tried to climb down from the table. She was covered in flour, so much of it glued to the lovely red woolen dress from the water she had sprayed on herself. She was trying to unwind her legs from the skirt, so he reached out and simply lifted her up and off the table, setting her carefully to the ground as chunks of wet flour fell off of her. When she looked up at him, quite sheepishly, he couldn't help but chuckle at the woman.

"God's Bones," he muttered, looking her up and down. "You are quite a mess."

Grier could hear humor in his voice but she wasn't sure it was real. It was quite possible that he was so angry at her that he simply couldn't adequately express that anger, masking it instead behind feigned mirth.

"I know," she said regretfully. "It all happened so fast."

"What are you doing in the kitchens?"

She lifted a hand only to drop it back down in a futile gesture. "Charlisa was showing me Shrewsbury," she said, feeling stupid even as she said it. "We ended up in the kitchens and we asked the cook if we could make something special for you and Dastan because you were fighting a battle. We made you sweetcakes."

She was pointing at the big oven and he turned to see Alvie pulling the baked cakes from the fire. In that moment, he was rather stumped; it was a sweet and innocent gesture, something she'd done to be kind to him. When he'd come into the kitchen, this was not what he had been expecting. Now, it was a struggle against the suspicion and angst he'd had when he'd charged into the kitchen, suspicion and angst that was directed at Grier because of what the captured Welshman had told him. He needed to talk to her, to find out the truth behind her relationship with ap Madoc but, at this moment, he was feeling like an ogre about it. Could he believe in her gesture to make him sweets? Or was it a meaningless gesture because the truth was that she was secretly in love with someone else?

God, he just didn't know.

Dane very much wanted to believe that her gesture was genuine, that she was truly attempting to be kind to him. But perhaps, he was being foolish or na?ve. Men didn't have feelings like women did. They weren't fools for the women they were married to or held affection for. But then he thought of his father, who deeply loved his mother, and they'd set a marvelous example for him of a happy married couple. The truth was that he wanted what they had. The past two days with Grier had shown him a surprising path to such happiness, and then last night… it had gone beyond what he'd thought it would be. A simple consummation wasn't so simple. He'd enjoyed it more than he could express.

But could he mean more to her than simply a husband? When he looked into her face, he could almost believe so.

Trouble was, he wanted to believe so. But with ap Madoc rearing his head, he had to get a few things straight first.

"That was kind of you," he finally said. "But there are some things I need to tend to before I can sample your cakes. Let us return to our chamber where you can change out of that dress. I have something I wish to speak with you about."

Grier went with him eagerly. She was such a mess that when he got her outside of the kitchen, he had her stand still and cover her face while he took his hands and beat at her skirt to get rid of some of the flour. Great puffs of white billowed up as he beat the red fabric, and when he was satisfied, he took her by the arm and led her back up to the keep, past his men who were now staring at the lady half-covered in white powder. Grier felt quite self-conscious.

"Your men are staring at me," she muttered as they crossed the bridge and into the inner bailey. "I wonder what they think I have been doing."

Dane laughed low. "I am sure they could not even hazard a guess," he said. "You look like a fish that has been rolled in flour and is ready to be fried."

Grier started to chuckle because he was. "It could not be helped," she said. "It was either jump on the table with the flour on it, or let that terrible rooster stab me with his spurs. You can guess which choice I made."

"I can," he said. "That should be a lesson to stay clear of that rooster. I should take that thing into battle with me."

"I am not sure a rooster would look good on your standard. They might start calling you the Chicken Duke."

"Point taken."

They were grinning at each other as they entered the keep, feeling that warmth that was sparking so easily between them. They had spent a good deal of their first few days together smiling at each other, which made this situation with ap Madoc all the more unhappy. Dane hoped with all his heart that the smiles and the warmth from her were real.

He wanted that badly.

With thoughts of Welshmen and new brides on his mind, he carefully helped Grier up the stairs because her garments were still too long and she was trying very hard not to step on the hem. Once they reached their chamber, he forced himself to push aside thoughts of ap Madoc, at least for the moment, as they entered to find Euphemia sitting by the fire, sewing up the hem of the emerald silk.

The old servant caught one look at her lady and gasped. "God's Soul!" she exclaimed. "What has happened to ye?"

Grier held out her arms as if to show the woman all of the damage. "An accident in the kitchens," she said without elaborating. "Would you be so kind as to bring me hot water so I may clean myself?"

Dane, laying his big broadsword on the nearest table, spoke up. "Bring her a bath," he told the old servant. "I think the lady needs to be doused to get all of the mess off of her."

Euphemia fled the room, closing the door behind her, as Dane went over to Grier. "Can I help you remove that mess?" he asked.

Grier eyed him. "Well," she said slowly. "I will allow it if you bolt the door. I do not need servants rushing in here while I'm only in my shift."

With a smile playing on his lips, Dane went to the door and dutifully bolted it. Then, he headed back to Grier, getting in behind her where the fastens of her dress were. As she pulled her long hair aside, which had flour and water all in the ends of it, he began to unfasten. He was almost finished when he heard her soft voice.

"There were raiders in town today, then?" she asked. "Did you catch them?"

He started to slow down as he reached the last few fastens. "Who told you there were raiders?"

"The same sergeant who told me it was safe to come out of my chamber," she said. "You said not to come out until a knight released me, but there were no knights, only a soldier. I hope you are not cross with me."

He fingered the second to the last fasten. "Of course not," he said quietly. "And, aye, there were raiders in town. I did not catch all of them, only one man. But it was a costly effort. We lost Syler."

Grier gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "Sir Syler is dead?"

"Aye."

Grier was deeply distressed. "But… but he is Lady Laria's brother," she said. "And Charlisa's cousin! Do they know?"

"They more than likely do now."

Grier fell silent a moment, feeling grief over the knight even though she didn't know him very well. "I am sorry," she murmured. "So very sorry. I shall say a prayer for him at Vespers."

Dane reached the last fasten and undid it, pulling the back of the dress apart. "I am sure his family would appreciate it," he said. "He was a good knight and he will be missed."

Grier could only shake her head in sorrow. It seemed like a costly raid, indeed. She pondered his loss as Dane went to remove what armor he was wearing, unbuckling leather strips that held on the pieces of plate.

Meanwhile, Grier pulled off her gown, stepping out of it and shoving it over against the wall so it was away from everything. There was a trail of flour along the floor where she'd pushed it along. Standing only in her shift now, she was still sadly pondering Syler's loss when she suddenly felt Dane's body up against her back.

Before she could say a word, his arms went around her torso and his mouth fixed to her neck. Grier gasped as bolts of excitement course through her veins, feeling Dane suckle on her tender neck, and instincts she never knew she had took over. Her mind may have been na?ve, but her body was mature and womanly, and it had a taste of what it needed the night before. There was no hesitation, no resistance– once Dane's lips touched her slender neck, her body succumbed in an instant.

What it needed was Dane.

And he needed her as well. He'd come to their chamber with only the intention of speaking with her, but as he began to unfasten her from her gown, heated and lustful thoughts took over. He remembered her sweet body from the night before, how she seemed to be made for him and him alone. So much had happened that morning, so much he needed to reconcile but, at the moment, nothing was as important as the feel of Grier in his arms.

Perhaps, the need was as much emotional as physical.

Damn ap Madoc and his attempt to kill him. Damn the man for wanting what belonged to Dane– Grier belonged to him. Shrewsbury was secondary. Oh, so secondary. All that mattered to him at the moment was his wife, in his arms, her beautiful body responding to his. Spinning her around, Dane's mouth slanted over hers as his arms went around her tightly.

Grier submitted to the powerful kiss. She was quickly learning to crave the warmth and power that only his kiss could provide, and her arms went around his neck, holding him fast as the power of his kiss grew. He suckled her lower lip, plunging his tongue gently into her mouth as she responded timidly. She mimicked the movement of his tongue, the gentle licking, the sweet tasting. Her hands moved into his cropped hair, holding his head fast against her.

The passion was about to explode.

Dane could feel her delectable body pressing against him, pleased that she was responding to his touch. Sweeping her into his arms, he laid her upon the bed, one hand behind her head while his free hand removed her from her shift, pulling it up and over her head. Unfortunately, it tangled in her hair, and he apologized profusely, but she simply laughed at him and sat up in the bed. Together, they unwound her hair from the tangle, and eventually he pulled the entire thing off.

As Grier watched, he pulled off his sweaty tunic, leaving him clad only in his breeches. Her breathing began to quicken at the sight of his naked skin, tanned and smooth and glistening in the dim daylight. It was the first time she'd ever seen a man without his clothing on and it was a glorious sight. Dane winked at her as he moved to the edge of the bed and slipped off his breeches. Then, he was on her again in an instant.

His mouth went to her neck, suckling gently, pushing her back down on the bed. Grier closed her eyes and gave in to his onslaught as his mouth grew more insistent and his hands began to roam. One arm held her firmly around the waist as the other hand moved up her right arm, into her hair and back down onto her shoulder. He massaged her shoulder for a few moments as his mouth began to work across her jaw. He could feel her breathing growing strong and heavy beneath him, and it fed his lust. His hand moved away from her shoulder and down to her right breast.

Grier accepted his hand on her breast without resistance, feeling the gentle caress and knowing that she liked it. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as his caress grew firmer, kneading her gently. His other hand moved from her waist and gently cupped her left breast, and with both hands overflowing with her delicious bosom, his lips found hers.

Grier responded eagerly as his tongue delved deep into her mouth. He was squeezing her breasts gently, his fingers playing with her taut nipples. She heard soft gasps filling the air, hardly aware that they were her own. She could only submit as he continued his tender onslaught, feeling his hot, naked flesh against hers, his big body overwhelming her. When she instinctively parted her legs so that his weight would not crush her, Dane's desire moved to a higher level.

Leaving her gasping, his mouth left hers and blazed a trail down her neck and chest that ended up at her breasts. He took a peaked nipple in his mouth, suckling strongly as she writhed and bucked beneath him. Her movements were purely instinctive, a natural reaction to his body, and it only served to fuel his fervor. He was trying to go slowly with her; God knows, he was trying. But she was responding to him as if she knew what he wanted and it was driving him over the edge.

As one arm held her close, he continued to nurse at her full breasts as Grier's hands found their way into his hair. As he suckled, his free hand moved down her flat belly to the fluff of dark curls between her legs.

Now, he was where he wanted to be. He stroked her wet folds gently at first, listening to her pant, and it created a surge of hunger within him. As she writhed beneath him, he inserted his fingers into her, listening to her gasp loudly. Her knees instinctively came up, her legs parting to receive him, and Dane had all he could handle. Returning his lips to her delicious mouth, he placed his manhood at her threshold and carefully pushed his way into her.

Grier groaned as he thrust into her, emitting a softly strangled cry when he withdrew and thrust again, pushing deep inside her. She held on to him tightly, as he held tight to her, his arms wrapped around her slender body as his hips did the work. She was so slick that in little time, he was seated to the hilt.

It was the greatest pleasure he'd ever experienced.

Grier's hands were on Dane's face as he began to move within her, his careful strokes increasing in power and pace. She was so consumed with the feel and smell of him that she could think of little else. His body was creating a raging fire within her loins and she could feel his manroot moving in and out, a primal rhythm that she remembered from the night before, and one that had created the most wonderful sensations within her.

Soon, she began to mirror his actions, her hips grinding against his, sparks bursting every time their bodies would come together. The bursts of sparks grew stronger and brighter, and she began to actively search for that next contact, that next stroke, that finally brought about the explosion of thunder that rippled through her body. She cried out with the sheer joy of it as Dane thrust into her a few more times, with great pleasure, before spilling himself deep into her beautiful body.

The clap of thunder eventually faded but did not die completely. Grier lay beneath her husband, feeling his big body atop her with a satisfaction she could have never imagined. But her body was still so highly aroused that when he stroked her gently one last time, out of the sheer pleasure of being inside her, the thunder burst again and she experienced the thrill of another climax.

Dane felt her tremors and he clutched her buttocks against him, thrusting in and out of her slowly, deliciously, and feeling another release until they faded away completely. When the heavy breathing faded and the only sound filling the room was the soft crackle of the fire, Dane just lay there and stared at her.

Grier's eyes were closed, her lips parted as she dozed exhaustedly. He did not want to close his eyes, fearful of missing one moment of this rapture. He just wanted to look at her, struggling to process all of the thoughts rolling through his head. She was special to him already; whatever attraction they had between them had grown, and it was now becoming a powerful bond. To think of her having affection for another man was becoming more and more disturbing to him, and although he knew he should have asked her about ap Madoc before he took her to bed, the allure of her had been too strong.

It was still too strong.

Reaching over, he pulled her into his embrace, against his naked body.

But as he put his arms around her, his hands grasped her back and her flesh felt strange. As if she had ropes against her skin. Pulling back just as she started to open her eyes, he rolled her away from him so he could get a look at her back. What he saw caused him to sit bolt upright in bed and toss back the covers.

Grier's back was covered with scars, but not just any scars– long pieces of folded flesh, mostly between her shoulder blades, but fading off towards the bottom of her back. They weren't new scars, either; they were faded and smooth with time. When Grier realized what he was looking at, she tried desperately to pull the coverlet up to cover herself.

"Please," she begged. "Please… no…"

But Dane wouldn't let her cover the scars. Frankly, he was sickened by what he saw. "Who did this to you, Grier?" he demanded, his voice low with treat. "Tell me who did this."

She was beginning to tear up, trying to crawl away from him but he wouldn't let her. He held her down on the bed, looking at the scars.

"It does not matter," she whispered, tears popping from her eyes. "It was a long time ago."

He was trying very hard not to become enraged, but as he beheld the scars, he remembered something she'd said yesterday when she thought she was alone in the chapel. She had berated her father for sending her to St. Idloes, but there was something that stuck in his mind as he looked at her back…

The old witch who would beat young girls until they bled.

Now, he realized what had happened, part of the hellscape at St. Idloes that Grier had been subjected to. Some righteous bitch posing as a servant of God had done this to her, and there wasn't a damn thing Dane could do about it.

He was so angry that he was starting to grind his teeth.

"Please tell me who did this," he said, sounding calmer even though he didn't feel that way. "It is my right to know, as your husband."

Grier burst into soft tears. She was so ashamed that she couldn't even look at him. "When I was sent to St. Idloes at six years of age, I was frightened and unruly," she whispered. "The Mother Abbess at the time did not take kindly to my behavior. She would beat me until I stopped screaming for my mother."

Dane sighed faintly, closing his eyes against that horror. "How long did this go on?"

"I… I don't really know," she wept. "I learned very quickly that my tears brought the willow switch but, by then, the damage had been done. She beat me raw during my first weeks there and she would not let the other nuns tend me or any of the other girls she'd beaten. But one young nun helped me in secret. She cleaned my wounds and probably saved my life. She later became the Mother Abbess, Mother Mary Moria. She was one of the few who were kind to me."

Dane had been so focused on her scarred back that it took him a moment to realize that she was weeping softly. Shame and sorrow must have filled her at his notice of her scars, and he was repentant. He hadn't meant to upset her like that. Lying back down beside her, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.

"I am sorry," he said. "For what you have had to endure, I am very sorry. Know that if those who did this to you were still alive, I would punish them and I do not care if they are women of the cloth. What that woman did to you was not right, Grier."

He was being so sweet and comforting, and Grier had never had anyone comfort her like that in her entire life. With Dane's arms around her, it was like she was protected from the entire world. Nothing could harm her as long as she stayed in that safe, warm haven. It was enough to ease her tears, and her hands came up, clutching at his arms as he held her.

"I know," she whispered. "It is one of the many reasons I cannot stomach my father. He did this to me."

He kissed the back of her head. "I do not blame you in the least," he murmured. "Although I had a great deal of respect for your father up until I met you, now that I am hearing how he treated you, I must admit that my respect for him is diminishing. I cannot believe such a man would be so cruel and ignorant of his own child."

With Dane's comforting presence, Grier's tears were fading. "He loved my mother," she said. "I thought he loved me until he sent me away. Mayhap he never loved me at all."

Dane gave her a gentle squeeze. "Dastan believes he could not stand the sight of you because you looked so much like your mother."

"I have been told I look like her."

"Then mayhap, it is not that your father didn't love you. I am not making excuses for the man but, mayhap, he simply couldn't stand to be reminded of the woman he'd loved and lost every time he looked at you. I can only imagine how I would feel if…"

He suddenly trailed off and Grier sensed that there was more he wanted to say but had held back for some reason. Turning her head to look at him, she could just see his chin.

"Finish what you were saying," she said. "You can only imagine how you would feel if…?"

Dane didn't want to say it. He didn't even want to think it. In fact, as he lay there with Grier in his arms, the whole situation with ap Madoc and the raid filled his mind until he could think of nothing else. He knew he couldn't rest until he clarified the situation with Grier, so he summoned his courage. It wasn't exactly a subject he wanted to bring up after having just made love to the woman, but it couldn't be helped.

He had to know.

"I was going to say that I can only imagine how I would feel if someone I loved was taken from me," he said, avoiding giving her a real answer. "I have never lost anyone I loved deeply."

Grier settled back in his arms. "Not even a parent?"

"Both of my parents are alive, thankfully, and the one who is not is of no consequence to me."

"Then you've not known great loss."

"Gratefully, I have not." He paused a moment, thinking on how to continue the conversation in the direction he needed it to go. "But I am sorry to say that Lady Laria and Lady Charlisa are knowing that pain today. Syler was a good knight and his death is a sorrowful thing for us all. We tried to trail his killers so that we could capture them and bring them to justice, but they evaded us. But I did capture one of them, and he had some interesting things to say."

Grier didn't sense anything out of the ordinary, not even the fact that he was discussing military business with her which, under normal circumstances, he would not have. But she didn't know that.

"Oh?" she said. "What did he say?"

Dane pressed his face into the back of her head for a moment, smelling her sweet, womanly scent, before continuing. Perhaps, he simply needed to fortify himself in case this conversation went terribly wrong.

Perhaps, he needed one last breath of what he could quite possibly lose.

"He said that a man named Davies ap Madoc had led the raid into Shrewsbury," he said. "That is the same man who offered for your hand in marriage, I believe."

He could feel Grier tense. Suddenly, she was rolling away from him, ending up on her stomach as she propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him. The expression on her face was wide with shock.

"How did you know that?" she gasped.

"It does not matter. Is it true?"

She hesitated a moment before nodding her head. "It is," she said. "He is Eolande's brother. When he would come to visit her on occasion, he saw me also. The next thing I realized, he is declaring his desire to marry me. He even sent his father to speak with my father about him, but my father refused."

It was a clear and honest answer. Dane sensed no subversion, which gave him immeasurable comfort, but he wasn't finished interrogating her.

"There was nothing between you two?" he asked. "You did not love him?"

She made a face, quite swiftly. "Davies? Not at all. He is a nice man, but there is nothing I could feel for him. There is nothing I would feel for him."

Dane considered that carefully. "Then his coming to Shrewsbury has nothing to do with some kind of bond you two share."

Grier shook her head emphatically. "Not at all," she said. "Anything he feels is purely in his own mind. I have never given him any encouragement."

Dane wasn't going to tell her how happy he was to hear that, but perhaps it was in his expression. He lay back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, as Grier watched him closely. Even though she didn't know Dane terribly well, at least not well enough to know his moods and behaviors, she was coming to sense something greatly troubling him.

That was obvious.

"Did… did Davies kill Syler?" she asked hesitantly. "Is that why you want to know if I have an attachment to Davies? I do not know him very well, Dane, and that is the truth. I could not tell you what he is thinking or what else he is planning to do. If I knew, I would surely tell you."

He looked over at her, reaching out to put a big hand on her head, which still had flour caked into it. There were chunks on the bed where her head had been.

"Shall I be honest with you?" he said. "I wanted to know if there was a love affair going on between you and him, enough so that he was coming to Shrewsbury to try and take you away. I wanted to know what I am dealing with. Did he kill Syler? More than likely, he did not personally kill him. But Syler was killed because ap Madoc believed he was me. He thought Syler was the new duke, and your husband, and he killed him."

Grier looked at him in horror. "He knows that we are married?"

Dane stroked her chestnut-colored hair. "When we stopped in Welshpool right after we were married, Willie inadvertently told some Welshmen that the Shrewsbury heiress had married the new duke," he said. "News travels quickly, especially when our lands are so close together. Ap Madoc must have come to Shrewsbury to exact vengeance on the man that married you. He was not aiming for Dane de Russe; he was aiming for the Duke of Shrewsbury, and I have no reason to believe that this will be the last time. I can only imagine he feels as if I have stolen something from him– you as well as the Shrewsbury titles."

Grier was beyond dismayed to hear it. "Nay," she breathed. "It… it cannot be. It cannot be! I never gave him any indication that I was receptive to anything about him. Why would he try to kill you?"

Dane could see that she was genuinely upset, which further proved to him that she was telling him the truth. He was a good judge of character, because his life as a knight depended upon that at times, and he could only sense blatant honesty from her. He hadn't meant to upset her so, but he felt it was necessary so he could get to the bottom of the situation he found himself in.

"As I said, he must feel that he was wrongfully cheated out of your hand and the Shrewsbury fortune," he said. "In any case, we must be very careful, you and I. You are not to stray outside of the castle walls for any reason. Do you understand? If ap Madoc is lurking in Shrewsbury and he were to somehow abduct you, I would have to burn down all of Wales until I found you. I would start a new war against Wales and not care in the least, so be prudent and be careful. Always tell me where you are going so that I know. That will give me peace of mind."

Grier listened to him with some surprise. What he was saying was quite strong, as if he already had feelings for her. It made her heart swell in a way she never knew it could, but in the same breath, she realized he was only saying it out of obligation. She was the Duchess of Shrewsbury and, as her husband, it would be his duty to save her should something happen. ‘Tis only duty , she thought to herself, and nothing more.

Somehow, that understanding hurt her tender heart.

"You need not worry," she said. "I will ensure you always know where I am. I would not worry you needlessly."

Dane could sense the depression in her words. Perhaps even disappointment. Suspecting he might know why, he sought to make himself clear. She was his wife, after all, and from what he saw, a woman of character and strength. He was willing to take the chance to share his feelings with her.

"Let me be plain," he said. "I would tear Wales apart looking for you not because I was obligated to, but because I wanted to. You belong to me now, Grier. I intend to keep you."

When she looked at him as if surprised by his words, he winked at her. That brought a grin from her.

"You… you want to?" she said, hoping she wasn't misreading him.

He nodded firmly. "I want to," he repeated. "Consequently, if some foolish wench were to abduct me, I should expect you to come after me because you wanted to, not because you were obligated to. There is a difference."

Grier was very solemn. "I would come after you and I would beat her to death," she declared. "I have never beaten anyone before, but I am a quick learner. I would learn very quickly what would cause her pain."

He liked that answer. "So you would come because you wanted to?"

She nodded, slowly, with great confidence. "I would, my lord."

Reaching out, he pulled her onto his chest, brushing a lock of that crusty hair from her eyes. "That's a good lass," he said, gazing into her lovely face. "That is what I wanted to hear."

Grier was feeling warm and tingly; she very much liked to be in his arms, their flesh touching. It made her feel giddy, as if she were about to lose her head. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, there was a knock on the door. Dane frowned deeply.

"Who comes?" he boomed.

A weak voice came from the other side of the bolted door. "Euphemia," she called. "I have a bath for my lady!"

Dane sighed heavily and looked at Grier. "I did tell her to get you a bath, after all," he said, tossing back the coverlets so he could climb out of bed. "I suppose I should be thankful she waited this long."

He rolled over Grier, playfully bouncing on her, and causing her to giggle uncontrollably. Then, he tickled her just to hear her squeal before he leapt out of bed and found his breeches. Grier caught a glimpse of his tight bare buttocks before he pulled the breeches up and secured them.

"I am coming," he called to Euphemia as he reached down and picked up his heavy, padded tunic. Heading for the door with it in his hand, he turned to see Grier still lying in bed, the coverlet now pulled back up to her neck. "Get up, love, and get your shift on. If you do not, they will know what we have been doing."

He shook his head, clucking his tongue as if they'd been very naughty, and Grier bolted up from the bed, searching quickly for her shift and finding it on the floor at the end of the bed. Dane paused by the door, waiting for her to pull it over her head, before he went to unbolt the panel. Opening the door, he ushered in a small army of servants with hot water and a tub.

Servants who were not deaf or blind. They more than likely figured out what their lord and lady had been doing, but they kept their heads down and efficiently went about their tasks as Grier smoothed the coverlet over the bed as if to cover up their activities. Dane had to shake his head at her, closing the barn door after the horse had escaped. It was like shouting to the room what they'd just been up to.

But they were idiots if they thought he'd leave his lovely young wife untouched.

Heading back over to the bed, Dane collected his mail coat, his plate, and his broadsword before heading for the door once more.

"I shall leave you to your bath, Lady de Russe," he said. "I have a few things to attend to, but I will return."

Grier followed him to the door. "Promise?" she asked softly.

He turned to look at her, seeing a warmth in her eyes that was deepening by the moment. Truth was, he had the very same warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. Whatever was happening between them was growing by leaps and bounds, and he wasn't sorry in the least.

Nor could he resist it.

"Promise," he said, bending over to kiss her on the nose. "I will return."

With that, he shut the door behind him, leaving Grier standing there as if in a daze. At the moment, she could only see, think, or feel Dane, and she wasn't sorry in the least.

It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Euphemia had to call to her three times before she realized she was being addressed and, as the servants fled the chamber, Euphemia helped Grier into the tub and went about washing off the remnants of the flour that Dane hadn't kissed, caressed, or otherwise rubbed off of her nubile young body.

As Grier sat back in the tub and daydreamed, it was of a handsome young duke she was growing particularly fond of.

And of a Welsh warlord she was going to have to do something about.