Chapter Eleven

A lyce felt lost in the depths of his dark stare, the gold shimmering in his rich brown eyes mesmerizing. Feeling awkward for blatantly gazing into Hawk's eyes, she dropped her stare to his mouth, trying to remember his question. He had that broad grin on his face that made him look mischievous.

And startlingly handsome.

The first time she saw Hawk atop his destrier clad in armor, she thought him to be sharp, angular, and unyielding in appearance. She realized now that when Hawk let his guard down and smiled with that twinkle in his eye, all of his harshness disappeared.

Hawk cocked an eyebrow at her when she lifted her gaze from his mouth back to his eyes. To hide her embarrassment, she turned her attention to the small heap of root vegetables remaining on her trencher. She pushed the food around with the tip of her eating knife, wishing she was more daring.

But she was not a woman who knew how to flirt or be seductive.

Her husband had been a friend first, almost like family, comfortable and familiar. Their courtship was expected. She remembered being a little flirtatious with Geoffrey, but it was the playful banter of young, inexperienced love. When she became aware of the way men and women flirted with each other in the hall, she was astounded by the shocking and erotic things some of the women dared say to the men.

She wished he knew how to look Hawk square in the eye and say something seductive to him in return, but she had no idea how to even begin to know what to say, or how to say it, that would not leave her completely mortified of her own behavior. She may not desire a husband, but if she were honest with herself, she did still crave passion.

She listened to the way the maids spoke of men, and the toe-curling nights spent at the hands of their lovers, and she wanted to know what that was like. Geoffrey's lovemaking had been quite nice, and she enjoyed being in his arms, but after hearing the stories from her maids, she'd wondered if perhaps there was something missing between her and Geoffrey.

Perhaps that was why Geoffrey had strayed into the arms of Janet. Mayhap something had been lacking in their marriage, or at least, their marriage bed. Was it because both of them had been so young and inexperienced? Or perhaps they were better friends than lovers?

She stuck a length of carrot in her mouth, chewing it slowly as she diverted her attention from Hawk and watched the soldiers and other guests laughing and drinking at the tables below them. Hawk would think her a wanton woman if he knew what was going through her mind, but she knew of many widowed women taking lovers, some more discreetly than others. Since she could not bear children, she could not see herself as a wife again. But could she be a woman who took lovers?

She thought about it a moment more then decided she could not imagine herself taking lovers to her bed just for the sake of pleasure. She was incapable of separating her emotions in everything she did, a fault Cynwulf warned would only cause her more hurt than good. But she could not change who she was or how she felt. She needed to trust any man she brought to her bed and such intimacy would just lead to heartache.

She turned her attention back to Hawk, realizing she had not answered his question about the excitement lacking in her life. He still looked at her intently, but the smile on his face was even broader.

"Watching your face, Lady Alyce, is like watching a storm wash over the ocean," Hawk said in a low tone that sent shivers through Alyce. She liked his deep voice and how when he spoke to her as though he wanted only her to hear; the sound rumbled in his chest, and she felt the vibration of the words as much as she heard them.

"I've never been to the ocean. I've been told it is more vast than I can even imagine." Alyce cringed at how breathless she sounded, aware that her heart was beating faster. How could this man make her respond like a besotted maiden with just a smile and a few softly spoken words? She must stop this foolishness, for nothing good could come of it.

Hawk nodded. "The ocean is so vast, you can see a storm coming before it hits the serene waters that precede it. The wind will come first, changing the small ripples on the surface to frothing waves, then the clouds roll over and the rain beats down, whipping the ocean into a frenzy with water crashing in every direction. The storm will move on before you fully comprehend what has happened, and in its wake the sea churns and rocks until it's exhausted of emotion. Then it settles back into a gentle calm. From start to finish may only be a matter of moments, yet an entire story plays out before your eyes in that small space of time. When you are thinking, Lady Alyce, your face changes from one instant to the next in much the same way."

As he spoke, Hawk brushed the back of his fingers over the top of her hand where it rested on the arm of the chair between them. Her skin warmed with the heat of his touch then tingled as it turned to gooseflesh.

Her eyes darted around the hall now to see if anyone saw Hawk touching her, but everyone seemed to be absorbed in their own conversations, paying little attention to her, and for that she was grateful. Even if their hands were out of sight, her flushed face was proof enough of the effect Hawk had on her.

"Tell me, Lady Alyce," Hawk said in a husky whisper meant for her ears only. "Do you imagine my hands touching you as often as I do?"

"You should not speak to me that way. Someone might hear." Her voice sounded strained and breathless, and she almost laughed out loud at her own pitiful state. Her entire body felt boneless like it had just melted into her chair. Maybe she wasn't as opposed to taking a lover as she had thought if this was her reaction to a simple touch and one seductive whisper.

He smiled at her then, devastatingly handsome, and dangerous. He stretched his long legs in front of him, settling more comfortably into his chair, but his gaze stayed locked with hers. "Everyone is too far into their cups and more interested in their own affairs to concern themselves with ours."

"We are not having an affair," Alyce said, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably. Even she could hear the seductive challenge in her tone. And if she doubted her ability to play the temptress, the sudden hitch in Hawk's breathing and the molten look in his eyes reassured her.

"Sadly, that is true," Hawk agreed, his eyes falling to her lips, then sliding slowly down her body before returning to meet her gaze. "If we were having an affair, then I would not be tormented at night by imagining what you would feel like in my bed because I'd know."

Alyce felt her breath catch in her throat, but she kept her expression bland, as though they discussed nothing more interesting than the crops in the fields and the possibility of rain. She should stop Hawk from talking to her this way, but she felt bolder than she had in a very long while.

As a matter of fact, she had never felt this bold.

Or this desired.

Or this empowered.

She let her eyes drift away from his, pretending her heart wasn't racing, and resisted the sudden urge to wet her lips with her tongue. "Have you considered counting, Sir Grogan? Perhaps you would not feel so tormented in your bed at night if you occupied your mind with the mundane."

She looked at him from the corner of her eyes when he did not reply. He stared at her with an unblinking intensity. Heat spread from her core, up her neck, and into her cheeks. She cursed her body for betraying her as his eyes dropped to the flushed skin exposed at her neckline then slowly raked over her throat, her lips, her cheeks, and back to her eyes.

"I prefer to imagine unlacing the ties of your gown and pushing it over your shoulders." The words were spoken so softly that Alyce was forced to focus on his lips as he formed each word. She turned to face him completely but said nothing. She opened her mouth to reply but she could not find her voice.

"You blush just as prettily in my dreams." He said each word slowly, deliberately. "Your nipples are the same dusky color as your lips—"

She inhaled sharply. "Stop!" It was a hushed command.

"Is that really what you want?"

She pressed her lips into a straight line and turned her attention to the tables at the foot of the dais. Just as Hawk had said, everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice theirs.

Hawk shifted in his seat so that he leaned closer to her, close enough for her to feel his breath as he spoke. "Once I had you freed from your gown, I'd kiss the soft skin of your neck, working my way down to your shoulders, and lower still until I had one of those beautiful nipples in my mouth."

Alyce's heart raced in her chest as it rose and fell. She couldn't catch her breath and her skin itched to be touched. Alyce's mouth opened then closed, unable to form words.

"If you have trouble getting that image from your mind when you are alone in your bed tonight, try counting," Hawk said with a mischievous grin. "It's said to help calm the mind." He shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. "And if that doesn't work, you know where to find me."

She sat there a long moment, waiting for her senses to return. Curse him! Her nights had been tormented already with thoughts of Hawk kissing her, but now she would never get any sleep thinking of the wickedness he described doing to her naked body with his lips.

"Tell me, Hawk," she said, her mind racing to find a topic to turn the conversation, "is it not rude to ignore Red? He has no one to converse with on his end of the table."

"I am fine, my lady."

Alyce was startled to hear Red respond, for she was quite certain she had said the words in a hushed tone.

Hawk did not acknowledge the man's response, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

The realization that the Viking had likely heard every word Hawk had said to her brought a new flush of embarrassment to her cheeks. Still, it was far safer to include Red in the conversation than to allow Hawk to continue to fill her head with erotic images that should not be there.

"I do not like for any of the guests at Hawkspur to be excluded. Please, push your chair back so your man can be part of our conversation." She gave Hawk a look to remind him she was Lady of Hawkspur, and the topic was not up for debate.

The sound of Hawk's chuckle rumbled in his chest, and then he said in his deep voice, "If it pleases you, my lady, then it is my pleasure."

His tone was not at all one of a man acquiescing to a lady's request but instead, that of a man trying to seduce a woman, and the now familiar chill shivered down her spine once more. He pushed his chair back, extended his long legs again, and turned to his friend just as Cynwulf's voice rose, probably louder than Alyce expected he meant to use.

"We will discuss the matter later!" he declared.

The room hushed as chatter fell from its loud roar to a hushed buzz.

"The sheriff is displeased by our host," he said to Red.

Montworth's chair scraped the floor as he suddenly pushed to his feet and stepped around Cynwulf and moved toward Alyce. She felt her stomach falling to her feet and her blood rushing to her face as all eyes focused on her and the sheriff.

"My lady, may I request your company for a walk in the bailey?" Montworth held out his hand to Alyce, a strained smile on his lips that did not reach his eyes.

"Only if my brother may accompany us," Alyce said, panic filling her. She had no desire to be alone with the sheriff, but she also did not wish to cause a scene or embarrass the sheriff any more than he had been already this eve. "Though I must admit to being unusually fatigued and was about to excuse myself for the night. Perhaps another time, Sheriff Montworth."

A crimson hue crept over his cheeks, and his red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes bulged slightly. "I really must insist you accompany me, Alyce, and surely your brother will trust us to be alone for a short time. You are no longer a chaste maiden whose virtue must be protected at all costs. No one will begrudge a widow some privacy with her betrothed."

Alyce gasped at the sheriff's audacity and his insinuation they were to be married. Before she could respond, both Cynwulf—and Hawk—had pushed to their feet.

"You will step away from my sister." Cynwulf spoke with such force that Alyce sunk lower in her chair. Hawk and her brother both glared at Montworth, and Alyce felt like a trapped hare with the three men towering around her.

Montworth's face was filled with hatred as he glared at Cynwulf. "You will regret this, my lord ," he hissed, the last words filled with so much venom that they sent a chill down Alyce's spine.

With that, Montworth turned on his heel and stalked away from them. The room had gone silent when the commotion started at the head table, and now all eyes were on them. The sheriff's men stood to follow their commander as he stormed toward the door at the far end of the hall.

Montworth pulled the heavy door with such vehemence as he left that it nearly broke the hinges. She almost found humor in the fact that, in his haste, the sheriff slammed the door in the faces of his own men. They stood in an uncertain huddle by the door for a moment, then one of them carefully opened the door and peered out before exiting with the rest of the men behind him.

Alyce stood and turned to her brother. "What was that all about?"

"Against my better judgment, I told Montworth I would not honor the agreement, that there would be no betrothal." Cynwulf breathed a shuddering sigh, then pulled her into a hug. "What am I to do with you, Alyce?" he muttered into her hair.

When Cynwulf pulled away, she thought she saw a flash of desperation in his eyes, desperation that went beyond her stubborn refusal to take a husband. It was time to stop acting the naive fool and face the truth, whatever that truth may be, and however much it might hurt her.

Alyce pulled away from Cynwulf and took his hands in hers. "You are to trust me, dear brother, that is what you are to do." Her voice was low, meant for his ears only, but she chose her words carefully with Hawk and Red so near.

"I've always trusted you. You've been a better sister to me than I deserve." Cynwulf cupped her cheek in his palm as he spoke, looking at her with…what, Alyce could not quite discern. It wasn't frustration, it wasn't quite pity, but it was unsettling.

"Come to my solar in the morning," Cynwulf said, his voice no longer lowered. "I wish to go over the ledgers with you." His face was once again the mask of indifference that she had become accustomed to since the arrival of Hawk and his men.

"Of course," Alyce said with a nod.

She turned to face the knight and his Viking friend. "If you will excuse me," she said with a quick bob of her head, "I will take my leave and bid you goodnight."

As she stepped away from the men, Ffyddlon rose from her place by the hearth and trotted to her side. Alyce scratched her faithful companion behind her ear and muttered, "I think some fresh air is in order, Ffyddlon."

After the commotion of the evening, she wanted nothing more than to get away from people and to be alone with her thoughts and her hound.

*

Hawk was too agitated to return to this seat. He watched Alyce disappear through the doorway at the back of the hall. He did not like the idea of her being alone but took some comfort in the fact that her loyal hound accompanied her. The dog would not let anyone near her. He picked up his cup of wine and moved to lean against the hearth where he could keep a watch on the door to the stairway and anyone who may try to follow her.

The sound of a deep chuckle drew Hawk's attention. Sparing Red a glance, he asked, "What do you find so amusing?"

"You, my friend." The skin around the Viking's eyes crinkled as he grinned merrily.

Hawk raised his brows in question.

"The stew keeps getting thicker."

"What are you talking about now?" His first-in-command could be damned irritating at times.

"The lady, the betrothal, the conniving sheriff."

Hawk gave a noncommittal shrug. "My only concern is discovering what game Cynwulf plays."

Red did not respond, but Hawk could feel his eyes boring into him. He would not give Red the satisfaction of acknowledging him, and he did not care to see the smirk he knew adorned the Viking's face.

"I need some air," Hawk muttered, pushing away from the hearth.

"The parapets have fresh air," Red offered cheerfully. "And pretty company."