Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

E lara had not needed anyone for a very long time.

She'd been born and bred for the role she played at Castle Blackwood. Having spent too many years wishing for a mother, wishing to be more like the other girls at court, wishing for things that could never be, she finally embraced what she was instead.

A woman who had been raised by an extraordinary man. One with enough skill, and humility, to survive more years at court than most. That man had taught her the only person who could be relied on and trusted was herself.

Yet as she sipped another goblet of wine, having drunk two in the hall already, Elara could not stop pacing her chamber. She wanted to speak with Alden. Wanted to collaborate with him.

But his touch? That, she did not want ...she needed it. The difference was not lost on her, and Elara could not help but feel a measure of annoyance at herself for so quickly abandoning a lifetime of teaching about need versus want.

But since they'd been together, she craved his touch. Could not stop thinking of the way he looked at her. Dreaming of the way he'd made her body sing. Though Elara had not known any other man in that way, she felt certain it was his touch alone that could do such a thing.

At his knock, her pulse raced. Elara had planned this all day, but suddenly, was unsure if she could do it. Even less sure as she pulled the door open, Elara watched as Alden stepped inside.

But when he pulled her into his arms, all her doubts disappeared. In a short time, their lips knew each other. Their arms found comfort as their bodies melded into one. Kissing him had become, quite simply, Elara's favorite activity.

Well, one of her new favorite activities . . .

Neither of them said a word.

Elara drummed up the confidence she needed to do something she'd never done before. Not unlike coming here and standing in front of a chamber full of the most skilled warriors in England, some who outranked her many times over, she pushed aside any doubts and thought instead of the reward.

Remembering the smile he'd given her after the fire, Elara knew well the reward would be his pleasure, and she wished for nothing more than to please him as he had done for her.

"Elara," he said as she broke the kiss and lifted his linen shirt. Like every other eve, he'd come dressed casually, with no armor or surcoat, not even a sword. Peering into his eyes as she untied him, like she'd attempted to do when they had lain together in her bed, Elara realized the exact moment Alden understood her intentions.

"I am not here," he said, his voice low and gruff, "for that."

"Why then..." She finally had the ties free. Feeling emboldened by the look in his eyes, she pushed them, and his braies underneath, down. "...are you here?"

"Elara," he said again, his voice thick.

She lifted his linen shirt. He pulled it above his head and was suddenly, gloriously, bare.

Elara knelt before him.

"Tell me," she said, wrapping her hands around him, feeling the silky smoothness of his tip and running her fingers down his length. "Show me."

"I'm here," he said, Alden's tongue running along his upper lip as he groaned. "To see to your pleasure."

"Let me see to yours first."

His hands clasped around her own, and Alden guided them up and down. She could tell by his expression Alden was very much enjoying her touching him, but she wanted more.

She shifted forward, guiding him toward her. Opening her mouth, she willed herself not to be bashful even though Elara was well beyond the realm of anything she'd ever done, or even considered doing, before.

Taking him, hearing Alden groan, was more pleasurable than she expected. He grasped the back of her head, moving her hair out of the way.

Hesitant at first, she quickly understood what he enjoyed. Every lick, every time she pushed him deeper into her, the sounds he made encouraged her.

"Elara," he said in a voice she'd never heard before. "We need to stop. If you don't, I'm going to spill my seed."

When Elara had found release like this, he had not stopped. She didn't intend to, either. In response, she took him more deeply than ever.

"By the saints." He was breathing heavier, pushing her head even while warning her. "Elara, if you continue—"

She did exactly that, and more. Waiting. Almost smiling against him at Alden's rare loss of control. "Elara," he said, and this time, she knew he was close. She peered up at him, and that seemed to push Alden over the edge.

The sounds he made were like ones she'd imagined a man such as him might in battle. Deep. Guttural. Uninhibited. So unlike the well-controlled man she had come to know, and suddenly Elara understood the power she held, women held, in a way she never had before.

When he said he'd spill his seed, Elara knew what would happen but was still little prepared. But she took him, all of him, strangely satisfied with herself.

Pulling away, Elara licked her lips and looked up at him once again.

Shaking his head, Alden let go of her hair and helped her to stand. "I've no words."

"Kiss me, then, instead."

He did.

It was unlike any of their previous kisses. Elara so quickly lost herself that another fire could have broken out just then and she'd have been unlikely to be aware of it.

Some time later, when they broke apart and Alden reached down to re-dress himself, Elara spied the tops of his thighs. She hadn't noticed them earlier.

"Everything about you is strong," she said, admiring all of him. "And hard."

"Keep looking at me that way and all of me will be hard." He reached for her, pulling Elara back into him. "When I said I have no words, 'twas not an exaggeration. Seeing you like that, your mouth around me...Elara, I will go to my grave with that thought of you in my mind."

"With luck that will not be for some time." She sighed, pulling back. "It is difficult to think so close to you, and we must talk."

"Must we?"

"Aye," she said. "Wine?"

She didn't wait for his response but, as she did each eve, Elara poured two goblets. It had become a ritual of sorts, taking wine by the fire in her antechamber.

"I've become accustomed to you in here," she admitted.

"As have I, though some are beginning to notice my absence."

"Beyond Darien and Roland?"

"Aye."

She sighed. "We expected as much. You are able to come here unseen?"

"Easily enough, aye. Some of the men went into the village this eve. There are rumblings of a campaign on the horizon."

"Winchester."

He nodded. "Stirling may be quietly recruiting, but word is spreading. As is the rumor last eve's fire may have been intentionally set."

It was a statement, and a question.

"'Tis likely rumors are true, unless the fire began both at the entrance of the stable and in the corner of its loft simultaneously."

"Precisely what the men had heard. So it is true?"

"It is," she confirmed. "But how they've word of it so quickly—"

"One of the stableboys," he said, taking a sip of wine.

"Hmm. As to the servants, I spoke to one of the kitchen maids and asked her to watch, and listen, for anything unusual." At Alden's surprised expression, Elara added, "I've a way to aid her ailing mother to ensure her silence on the matter."

His brows rose. "Cunning."

"I do what must be done," she said, making no apologies for it. "And attended the meal this eve to watch for myself."

"Watch?"

"The maid, Lila."

Something about the change in Alden's expression made the hairs on Elara's neck stand straight. "What is it?"

"Why," he asked cautiously, "did you wish to watch Lila?"

Elara thought back to the conversation she'd had with the maid earlier that afternoon. "Ada told me there was something amiss about her reaction to the fire. What is it?" she asked, assured now that Alden knew something as well.

"Darien and the others were speaking of it while she was at our table. For a brief moment, I had the same feeling but dismissed it."

"About Lila?"

"Aye."

"Your instincts should never be dismissed."

Alden grinned. "I knew you would say as much as soon as the words left my lips." At that, her focus went to those very lips. "Elara," he warned. "You are a saucy minx."

"You are the cause," she accused.

The sound he made, the way he looked at her...

A vision of herself kneeling before him made Elara flush. She pushed the thought aside. "Eamon recruited her himself. She is the daughter of the village alewife, whose husband died years ago. Her mother is a staunch supporter of Matilda's, as are most in these parts, but he knows little else. We've begun to make further inquiries about her, but..."

"But it makes little sense. A maid . . . our traitor?"

Elara agreed. "Tomorrow I will speak to Pembroke, learn if she could have had access to his books."

Alden leaned forward. "Perhaps she is aiding another."

"Go on," Elara said, having considered the same.

"If the maid is involved, 'tis for her access to the castle and recruits. But unlikely she is the mastermind behind it."

No words were needed between them. Their eyes locked. An agreement and awareness, passed between them. Observing the maid may very well lead them to the traitor. They were closer this eve than they had been from the start.

He stood. "Is there aught else to report?" he asked, placing his goblet on the table.

"Nay." Elara's pulse quickened.

"Good." He held out his hand. "Come. It's your turn."