Chapter Twelve

G uy had acquiesced to letting in the light, but now there was too much of it. Days of cloudless heat had settled over the town and castle of Rossfarne, making farmers fret over the wilting harvest and fishermen long for a breeze to fill their sails. Sunlight flooded the castle, shining a bright, relentless beam into long-forgotten chambers.

He had opened himself up to Kitty. She'd broken through the high barriers he'd erected to keep everyone at a distance, and she'd glimpsed the real Guy, the one he preferred to keep hidden. He could no more barricade his defences against her now, than he could command the skies to darken.

Each day she came to his chamber and calmly, quietly, ministered to his wound. On the first morning, she brought with her leaves from a strange green plant, which he couldn't help eying suspiciously.

"Comfrey," she said, in answer to his look. "I found it growing in the small meadow behind the castle and dried it in the pantry overnight. Packed into your bandages, it will reduce the swelling."

He'd baulked at the return to bandages, hating the way they swathed his body and restricted his movement, but was touched by her thoughtfulness. Kitty had braved the relentless, smothering heat to go out and gather herbs for his sake.

He would have liked to show her how much he cared. He longed to catch hold of her hand and bring her fingertips to his lips. To caress away the worry lines at her temple. He would do all that and more. But after their moment of weakness in the solar, the kiss that had swamped him with passion and temporarily stolen his sanity, he promised himself that he would never again act with impropriety towards her.

He no longer asked her to sing for him. As pure and beautiful as her voice was, his mind would turn to lust the moment she entered his solar. She was an innocent maid. He was an earl. It mattered not how he burned for her. To kiss her again would take what they had and turn it into something sordid.

She had exclaimed with surprise upon unwinding that first lot of bandages. "See how it has helped?"

He'd looked down, expecting an angry red scar, but found instead something smaller, thinner. A mark which was already fading into his bronzed skin.

"The herb you brought?"

"Comfrey." She gathered up the shrivelled leaves from the bandages. "Our village healer prescribed it for Alfred, our servant, the one who was cut by an axe."

It was only afterwards that he'd wondered at her words. Had she really said ‘our servant'? What could that mean?

He watched her closely as she went about her days. Her work was meticulous as ever, but something about her bearing had never rung entirely true with the idea that she had come from the servant class. Could it be that Kitty's family had once enjoyed some degree of privilege but latterly had fallen on hard times? Or was it wishful thinking on his part to imagine her as more highborn, more suitable as a match for someone of his standing? Either way, she remained a servant in his employ. The exact circumstances of her birth mattered little besides that.

As his body healed, his movement and sense of freedom began to return, though the oppressive heat made riding or even walking outside difficult. Kitty was to come again to him this morning, but in the face of his impressive recovery, he knew she would announce any day that her ministrations were no longer necessary.

What then? He would be bereft without her.

Her light footsteps sounded on the stairs, then came the knock. Three times in quick succession. It was the sound he now lived for.

"Enter," he called. He longed each day to see her. And each day he worked hard to hide his longing.

He waited for her by the washstand, where the light streaming through the large window was at its brightest. This had become their custom. Her quick fingers would remove the bandages, skimming over his flesh and bringing goosebumps to his skin. Her eyes, however, remained fixed studiously on his injuries. Did she know how she affected him? He couldn't tell. Her touch, her movement, her pronouncements were all strictly professional.

This morning, she paused in her task. Her gentle hand stayed against his chest while she crouched lower and put her head closer to his wound. At once her sweet breath hit his shoulder blades and he felt the traitorous twitch of desire deep inside him.

"It is fully healed," she announced, and for the first time in several days she raised her beautiful green eyes to his.

His need to see the proof wrestled with his wanting to stay held in her gaze. His heart beat heavily. It was the news he'd sought mixed with the inevitable consequence he'd been dreading.

"See for yourself." She stood tall and backed away from him, folding her hands demurely in front of her apron.

He glanced down at the thin line which had replaced the searing red stripe of agony he'd feared would never leave him.

"You have worked miracles," he said. His voice was calm though his emotions raged.

His words brought a flickering smile to her lips, but she still did not look at him.

"Not I, my lord. It was God's grace, along with the healing power of nature."

What now? He should thank her, dismiss her and get on with his day. He had letters to write. He must see about hiring castle guards and ordering repairs to the gatehouse. But once Kitty had left his chamber, he would be reduced to chance meetings on the stairs, perhaps a shared look over a meal served in the great hall. His mind reached for a reason she should stay.

Kitty sighed, as if she had come to a decision. "Though the wound itself is healed, the muscles surrounding it will need some time to adjust."

He held his breath. Was Kitty herself offering him a solution?

"What would you suggest?"

She pursed her lips and directed her gaze towards the window, away from him. "There is a kind of curative massage which may help."

"Curative massage? I have not heard of such a thing."

She looked as if she regretted speaking up. "I watched the healer perform it with Alfred."

"And do you think you could do it?" The idea of her hands upon him sent his pulse pounding, but would he be able to retain his thin veil of self-control?

She worried at her lower lip. "I'm not sure it would be proper."

Nor was he. But he couldn't let her go, not while the chance to prolong their time together was so tantalisingly close.

"It is merely a continuation of the nursing care you have already provided."

She nodded her agreement. Her composure was absolute, bar the quick rise and fall of her bodice, denoting a heart rate just as fast as his own.

Was this madness? He had kept his promise to act with propriety until now, but each day it became harder to resist her. And now, with the baking heat lending a shimmer of unreality to their surroundings, it would be all too easy to give in to temptation.

He shook the notion away. He was a knight of the realm, not some base fool living at the mercy of his sexual urges.

"Where would you like me?" he asked.

His question brought a flash of colour to her cheeks, and he regretted his choice of words.

"You will need to be sitting, as otherwise I will not be able to reach." Her hands lifted to emphasise the distance his shoulders stood above her.

He remembered how it had felt to circle his fingers around her delicate wrists.

"On the bed then. Shall I put my shirt back on?" He was determined to be practical, to banish the tension that had sprung up between them.

"No, leave it off." Her voice was small.

He strode over to the bed and lowered himself onto the corner of it. He loosened his shoulders and widened the stance of his legs, to better distribute his weight.

She was behind him. He could sense her even though he couldn't see her. He closed his eyes, tense and ready for her touch.

Her fingers were soft and warm. They dipped over the wall of muscle in his shoulder, gripping and pulling to release knots he never even knew were there. Guy found his head lolling forwards and a great sense of relaxation descending over him. Her palms pushed against his upper back and then ran down the sides of his arms, bringing pinpricks of excitement to his bare flesh. Despite his good intentions, desire was uncoiling within him with every sure, controlled movement of Kitty's hands. Now she was concentrating on his left side. On the shoulder he had thought of as ruined. But her gentle kneading brought him no pain, only pleasure.

Pleasure that was building inside him. Pleasure he craved and tried to deny at the same time. Her breath hit the back of his neck. If he reached behind him, he would find her soft, womanly curves. Heat pulsated through him as he gripped down hard on his self-control. It was no good. In another moment his need would overtake his rational thoughts.

Kitty darted away from him as if he had spoken the warning aloud. Bereft of her touch, he breathed deeply to calm his passion.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice came out hoarse and deep. He turned to look behind him to find a most curious expression flickering across her face.

"I was gathering my thoughts, my lord."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are they gathered now?"

She worried at her lower lip, but resolution shone in her eyes. "I believe so."

Part of him throbbed for her still. He dared not move lest he scare her away.

"Are we to continue?"

"Most certainly."

She stepped up behind him once again. This time, when her hands ran up his bare arms, her touch was slow and steady, almost as if she had calculated the most precise way to stimulate his desires. Her fingers spanned out against his backbone and then stroked the length of his spine, spread to his sides and travelled up his body to settle on his shoulder blades.

He exhaled sharply. Her touch was weaving magic, putting him under a spell. The sultry heat of the room mixed with her seductive gestures, intentional or not, would surely prove to be his undoing. His mind flashed with images. He could turn in less than a heartbeat, gather her up into his arms and lay her down on the bed. He imagined his own hands being free to explore her soft curves. He would unbutton her bodice and lower his lips to her breasts.

Enough. He could stand no more. He launched himself away from the bed and stalked over to the window where the brightness hurt his eyes.

"Have I displeased you, my lord?"

"Only in that your touch is driving me wild," he shot back.

He expected his confession to shock her, but when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw her standing as bold and resolute as before.

"It is overly warm in here," she stated. "Perchance you're in need of fresh air?"

If only. His gaze raked over the still courtyard and the parched earth. "The only fresh air in this whole cursed place can be found out there." He motioned beyond the far tower to where the sparkling sea lapped gently at the sun-drenched cove.

She was beside him, standing too close for his comfort. She smelled of meadow grass and something citrussy. Her soft lips parted as she raised herself on tiptoe to see where he was pointing.

"The sea?"

The fabric of her sleeve brushed against his chest and the sensation was enough to tip him over the edge, where self-restraint was no longer a burden.

"The sea." He couldn't help himself. He placed his hands upon her narrow waist and spanned his fingers outwards.

She didn't flinch away. If anything, she moved imperceptibly nearer. "I believe saltwater bathing can be highly beneficial for healing."

Bathing in the sea. He hadn't done so since he was a child. But as tempting as the notion was, it couldn't compete with the beautiful young woman who was almost in his arms.

"I can think of other ways to exercise," he growled, inching her closer. His thumbs skimmed upwards until he could feel the press of her lower ribs through her dress.

She swallowed but didn't pull away. A battle was being fought behind her eyes. Indecision washed over her face, but he saw no sense of fear.

She reached up to touch his face and he closed his eyes as her fingers brushed lightly against his skin. She was soft and tender; he was hard with passion, like a tightly coiled spring.

Not like this. He must regain his self-control.

"Saltwater bathing is an interesting idea." He forced the words out while his eyes remained closed. Immersing himself in the cool, clear water would chase the heat of passion from his body.

He heard her sharp intake of breath. "I believe it has enormous benefits." She shifted slightly, coming dangerously close to the part of him still straining with desire. "If it pleases you, my lord, I will bring down a change of clothing for you."

Her practical mindset shamed him afresh. He must leave her, before he spoiled her virtue further.

"It pleases me," he stated.

She nodded her capped head. "Then I shall meet you in the cove."