Chapter Twenty-One

I sabel walked back from a short visit to the chapel and wondered if Royce would return before nightfall. He’d gone off, at the behest of Lord Orrick, and neither the lord nor his lady would say why or when to expect his return. Her time in prayer and contemplation had given her the answer she sought and now she wanted to share it with him…if he would only get back.

As if conjured by her thoughts of him, he walked up to her and took her hand. His eyes had a strange glint in them and he looked as though he had ridden hard and long to get back here. Quietly he tugged her to follow him and he led her to where his horse stood, saddled and ready outside the keep’s gate.

“Royce, we are expected at supper.” She began to pull away, but his grip tightened. She looked at him to see why he did so.

“Isabel,” he said, stumbling over her name. “Come with me now?”

She had never seen him in his cups, but she thought this might be the day after such an occasion. He looked rough to her, raw in some indefinable way. And never had she felt such need coming from him.

“Of course, I will.”

He mounted first and then reached out to her. Without hesitation, she placed her foot on his and let him lift her before him on the horse. Their destination was never in question and in a few minutes, he brought the horse to stop outside his cottage. The first kiss began as soon as his feet touched the ground and continued as he backed her into the croft.

He peeled off her layers of clothing and when she could no longer breathe and wore nothing but her shift and stockings, he pulled away, intent on undressing himself. When he unbelted the chain mail and pulled it over his head, odors pungent enough to make her eyes water escaped from his road-weary tunic.

“I am offensive,” he said so seriously that she laughed.

“You are that. If you kept some of the soap here, you could wash in the stream.”

“We could wash in the stream,” he repeated as he pulled open the small cupboard and found the pottery jar of soap. Over the past few weeks, more supplies and linens had been brought back here as their use of it as a private place increased.

She thought to object to walking outside in such a state of undress, but the light of the day was fading and they were far enough away from the village that no one should be nearby. Still, in only her shift, she felt naked before him. When he tugged off the last of his clothes, she did not know whether to object or admire. She admired.

Something was different about him. Mayhap it was the result of overimbibing? Men were known to wear the effects of too much wine or ale for days afterward. It was just not like him to behave so. They arrived at the edge of the stream and he continued to the place where she had washed her hair that day weeks and weeks ago.

“See the way this pool formed here?” she asked. “Just deep enough for bathing if the water is warm enough.”

“I made it for just that purpose. By damming up part of the stream there—” he pointed to a pile of rocks and branches a few yards away “—it allows the water to collect, and then it flows out there when it reaches that level.”

She had not noticed before that this was anything but formed by nature. She smiled at him. “What a wonderful plan! But I never saw you use it as such while I was here.”

“I used it late at night when you were asleep. We were trying not to notice each other in those days and nights.”

That had been exactly the situation between them. Isabel was certainly glad that was over. Royce walked into the pool and first sat then lay in the water and let it pour over and around him. After he was completely wet, he extended his hand for the soap she held in hers. Stepping into the water and closer to him, the coldness of the water surprised her.

“How can you stand this? It’s so cold.” She tried to give him the jar but he would not take it, forcing her to step closer. Finally she stood over him as he sat in the water.

“Would you wash me?”

His request was not the teasing she thought it was and so she scooped out some soap and began to lather his hair. Leaning over she spread it down onto his shoulders and back. She tried to move away but he grabbed her legs and held her close.

“Your shift will get wet if you do not remove it.”

“It will not,” she said, taking another measure of soap, “if you are careful.”

“Isabel,” he said in the husky voice that foretold of pleasure, “I am not going to be careful and it will get wet. Take it off now or I will not carry the blame when you return to the keep in a wet shift.”

There was barely a moment to spare, for she had no sooner lifted the shift over her head than he pulled her to him. Not knowing what to expect in this setting, she was surprised to feel his mouth on her thighs. Looking down to where he sat, she was puzzled.

“Here, step over me this way.”

When she did as he directed, she stood above him with her legs spread over his lap. Exposed and aching, she moaned her pleasure as his seeking hands found the throbbing place between her legs. She reached out to find some balance and rested her hands on his shoulders.

He held her thighs apart and replaced his hands with his mouth and she bit her tongue trying not to let out the screams she wanted to make. Her knees weakened and she thought she would fall on him in the water. Royce guided her down until the heated core of her was on his hardness. In one swift movement, he filled her.

Joining in this way was new to her and she could feel his fullness stretching her inside until she moaned. With his hands free, he wreaked havoc on her body, touching her breasts and rubbing against the sensitive bud that seemed to be the center of all she felt at that moment. The tension, the excitement, the arousal gathered within her and she began to melt from inside out as her peak approached.

Royce had other ideas, for even as the first contractions pulsed inside her, he stopped and remained still. Not quite close enough to the edge to fall over it, she gasped as everything in her called out for release. When she tried to move on him, he grasped her hips and prevented her from doing it.

“Royce?”

“I want to make this last. Let me play you awhile.”

She was not sure how this would work, but she knew from that mischievous smile that he would insure her pleasure. Isabel gave herself up to him and he drew out the moment of completion for what seemed like hours by starting and stopping again and again.

When he finally let her reach her peak, she did scream it out into the night and her sounds echoed through the forest around them. And it was such a powerful ending that it went on and on, pulsing and racing through her in endless waves, until she collapsed in his arms.

When she regained her senses, she was in his arms in a shameful embrace being carried back to the croft. Draped over him like a shirt with her legs wrapped around his waist, she finally noticed that he was still hard…and still inside her! He walked them into the croft and knelt down with her and then laid her back onto the pallet.

“Isabel, I love you.”

He said the words with a certain desperation that frightened her initially, but once he began thrusting into her already aroused softness, she accepted. His gaze never left hers this time and when she felt him harden even more, she knew his release was about to happen. He repeated her name over and over as he claimed her and as he marked her with each touch. His seed erupted against her womb and she watched his face as it finally lost the tension.

His body relaxed against hers and he remained within her for a long while. Lifting his weight off her, he rolled them to their sides and gathered her close. They were wet, but she had no desire to move from his side even to reach for a drying cloth.

“Royce?”

“Hmm?”

“If I give you my answer to your offer, will you woo me less ardently?”

He did not reply right away. She thought that mayhap he had fallen asleep and not heard her after all.

“Only if you want me to,” he answered. “But I doubt I could.”

She rested against him, enjoying the warmth and the quiet before actually giving him her acceptance. Isabel was certain he already knew what it would be, however she wanted to say the words to him.

“I would have you always, Royce, as my husband. For now and for always, come what may.”

Her words killed him.

Given all he’d discovered, they ripped his heart and soul apart. He said nothing back since there were no words in his power to say at that moment. Overwhelmed by the emotions within him, he remained silent and simply held her, wanting to never let her go.

They both dozed off for a few minutes, but they could not remain there through the night. Lady Margaret, who had so many other reasons for hating him, would not forgive another violation in her courtly rules, and taking Isabel from the yard so boldly and keeping her away overnight would be a definite breach.

The fog induced by more than three swigs of Connor’s potent whiskey hung over him still and he was grateful for it in some ways. It kept the voices out of his head. It kept the guilt and anger and other feelings at bay. The only thing he could think about was her. When he saw her walking in the courtyard, his only thought was to bury himself in her and to lose the pain of what was coming.

And she had accepted it. Him. She made no demands, expressed no preferences and suffered no hesitation. Isabel took him into her body, her soul, her heart with love. If anyone could heal him, it would be her.

It was not to be.

He took her love and possessed her body and soul even as he planned his betrayal of her and all they shared. She had brought him back from the edge of darkness and given life to his soul and he would repay her with deceit. Part of him screamed out even as he considered what to do. She did not deserve this from him.

She shifted in his arms and he kissed her neck, inhaling her scent and savoring it. He would keep it in his memory for the rest of his life, knowing that nothing, no one, could replace her.

He just wanted another week with her. If he was lucky, it would take that long for her sister to become suspicious of his late return and follow him here. Once Alianor arrived, ’twould not matter if Isabel… Anne remembered her life or not, her sister would never leave her behind.

And then he would move back into the darkness from where he’d come and never return. Regardless of Orrick’s offer, William could not stay once Isabel left. He could not think about what he would do, but it would not be here.

The night arrived and its soft sounds surrounded the cottage. ’Twas time to take her back and face Orrick and Margaret with another lie. And more would follow until he left. They did not deserve it either, but soon he would be gone and they could relegate him to their memories as a mistake made in their lives.

Thoughts began to swirl in his mind, but he pushed them away. He would have his days with Isabel and then he would think, then he would make the decisions about who and what and where. For now, he would do the thing he had resisted for so long.

He would feel.

And so, with the determination of a man facing death and knowing when it would come, he forced the doubts and fears out of his mind. He would take this time with her and enjoy it to the fullest. William did not know the details of her marriage and did not need to in order to understand how unhappy it would have been for her. Her barrenness would have been held against her every passing day and in more ways than he could think of.

He would give her some small measure of happiness here until the truth came out. He would pleasure her until she screamed. He would love her with everything within his being and not want anything in return—no lands, no titles, no wealth. Only her love. Even for this short while.