Lord of the Abbey (23 page)

She wanted him to kiss her. She needed him to kiss her. “Harry, will you kiss me again?” Feeling suddenly shy, she lowered her lashes.

“It will be my pleasure, Rowena. I was about to ask you the same thing,” he whispered. Caught her chin with his fingers. Tilted her face upward. Looked into those incredible eyes as blue as the sea or the sky.

She felt his hands slide sensuously across her shoulders and down her back. Then up to her shoulders again. He untied and removed her bonnet completely, letting it fall to the floor of the tower. Rowena felt herself being drawn fully against him. Closed her eyes when his lips brushed gently against hers. He placed feather light kisses along her cheek bone, one atop the tip of her nose, more along her jaw, then her chin. Another just behind her ear. Then down one side of her neck. Rowena was mesmerized. Harry’s hand moved up her back and behind her neck to tangle in her hair and cradle the back of her head as his lips returned to claim hers. Boldly. She opened her mouth then, allowing him to claim her as he wished. Her fingers grasped his lapels as the kiss deepened. She pulled him closer. She felt his other hand move down her back then to her side. One hand remained at her nape, the fingers of the other glided downward stopping just atop the curves of her bottom then back up over her hip, then upward along her belly, over her ribs until at last they reached her breast.

“You don’t mind if I touch you, do you, Rowena? I do not want to frighten you,” he whispered against her ear.

No. She was not frightened. “I do not mind.” She managed somewhat breathlessly. “I want you to touch me, Harry.” Though she could not explain it, she needed Harry to touch her.

Harry’s lips covered hers again. She gasped softly as his fingers found her hardened nipple, traced it through her bodice, rubbed it, teased and tugged it ever so gently. All the while they were joined in a kiss deepening with passion. His fingers continued the gentle and intriguing assault on her breast, as he drank deeply from her lips. His other hand moved to caress her bottom, moved to her hip, pulling her closer against him. She arched against him, murmuring softly against his lips.

Rowena was on fire. His lips, his hands, everywhere they touched, she burned. The hard heat of his body against hers fueled the fire building inside her. A curious sensation between her thighs sparked into a flame and burned hot with a need, a want which she never experienced before. Did not want to deny. Every time he teased the hardened bud of her breast, strong, quick shocks of pure pleasure, bolted like electricity through her. Seemed to collect at the juncture of her thighs. She was acutely aware of the strong, white, hot need she felt there.

Harry moved his fingers to cup her. To feel the weight of her breast in his hand. He brushed his thumb lightly over her nipple teasing the already hard pebble. What he explored of Rowena’s body he found to be exquisite. He wanted to see her. Taste her. Once again, he lost control. He could not understand what happened to him every time he touched her. He could not remember ever being so weak, not able to control a seduction. But this, he reasoned, was no seduction. There was an uncontrollable need driving him to make her
his
. He wanted
her
. He needed to make
her his
. Just her. Only her.

He intended only to kiss her. He never intended to explore her body, even though she remained clothed, from the tower atop the Tor, with no doubt an Archangel looking on, and with Micah so close. This time, however, Rowena participated as eagerly as he. She asked him to kiss her! So he was not sorry. But, if he did not stop right now, he would have an embarrassing not to mention uncomfortable walk back down the Tor. He was already hard.

He released his hold on her breast. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her. He bent his head once more to place one last quick, chaste kiss to her swollen lips. He whispered, “We best save this for another time, my sweet. We shall continue at a later time. Perhaps this evening if we can manage?”

They heard Micah whistling a tune somewhere beyond the tower.

“Micah, where are you?” Harry asked. He bent to retrieve Rowena’s bonnet and handed it to her.

“Taking in the marvelous views, Harry.”

“Come take a look inside the tower. You said you’ve never been up here before.” Harry looked down at Rowena. He beamed.

Rowena turned to busy herself looking out the door on the opposite side of the tower, as she re-tied her bonnet. Her knees felt weak, her hands trembled slightly.

“The energy is incredible in the tower!” Micah remarked as he walked around, looked up through the roofless tower to the sky above.

“I agree.” Harry commented to Micah, while lifting an eyebrow toward Rowena who turned to face him.

Rowena blushed at Harry’ implications, then merely smiled.

“There is a carving of Michael. And one that must be St. Bridget. And this tower dates to the thirteenth century, am I correct?” He turned to Rowena.

“Fourteenth Century, Micah. The earthquake destroyed the original church of St. Michael in 1275. It was rebuilt and finished in the mid fourteenth century,” Rowena answered.

“Yes. Then destroyed at the dissolution. I’d like to be up here at night,” Micah said with a smile. “It would be incredible to sit up here and watch the sun set and the sun rise. To gaze upon the countryside in moonlight. The energy is truly invigorating. Don’t you agree, Harry, Lady Rowena?”

“Oh yes, Micah. I find it very invigorating.” And Rowena Locke did something she had never done before. She flirted. With Harry Bellingham. She looked directly at him and offered him a seductive smile. “I do not think I will ever tire of the energy I’ve found here in the tower.”

“Nor I, Lady Rowena,” Harry answered, intrigued by her boldness. Surely that was a sign she was coming to trust him. To want him. He burned to kiss Rowena again, hold her, touch her, and more. Much, much more. In time. He could not rush her. Though in truth, having known her only four days and to know as much about her and her body as he did might be considered by most to be rushing. In Harry’s mind, the only thing that made sense was that he just knew Rowena Locke was meant to be his. His wife. His lover. He knew it. He felt it. He wished it to be so.

“We best make the trek back down. We have a Faire and a Ball to plan.” Harry captured Rowena’s hand and placed it on his arm.

Once outside the tower, Micah paused once more to view the scenery. “Harry, you’ve not commissioned workmen to begin preparing the abbey grounds for the Faire, have you?” He turned toward them.

“No. I have not.” Harry’s gaze moved in the direction of the Abbey. “Is that someone digging on my grounds?”

“It appears to be a group of men doing something on your grounds.” Micah shrugged. “It’s just too hard to tell exactly what from this distance. It does appear they are digging.”

“Perhaps it is merely a group of pilgrims visiting the town, but just the same, I’d rather check it out. Find out what is going on there. They are wearing long coats.”

“Can’t say for sure, the coats appear to be brown,” Micah mused aloud.

“The back side of the Tor is steeper, but faster for you to get down to the Manor. If we go that way we’ll come off directly behind Stonedown. You can then get your horses from the stable and go on to the Abbey,” Rowena explained. She was as concerned as they were at the prospect of someone digging in the abbey grounds – especially if it were the men in the brown coats.

“
I’ll go on ahead,” Micah began walking briskly. He called as he pointed ahead of him. “That way?”

“Yes. There is a small path. You will see it,” Rowena assured him.

“Will you and Rowena be all right?” Micah turned back to inquire.

“Yes, go.” Harry waved him on. “Hopefully Charlie and Lyon are returned from town and you can take them with you. I’ll be right behind you as soon as I get Rowena safely through the door of Stonedown.”

“Harry, go ahead. Don’t worry about me. I’ve climbed down the Tor hundreds of times.” Rowena did not wish to hold him up.

Harry reached out, took her hand in his. Entwined his fingers with hers. He pulled her gently to his side. “I’ll not let you out of my sight, Rowena, until I know you are safe inside Stonedown.”

This path was definitely steeper. Though Rowena did well on her own, many times Harry lifted her down in places where there was outright climbing involved, when the labyrinth terraces were just too steep. Not that he minded placing his hands on her waist. He did not. Nor did he mind the feel of her in his arms when he scooped her up and carried her over a stretch of path that was sharply angled downhill and was extremely slippery. He only wished he had time to stop and kiss her, touch her. It was torture to not be able to do more. Harry wanted to relive the magic they experienced atop the Tor inside the tower of St. Michael. A magical moment when he knew Rowena wanted him as much as he wanted her. But, alas, there was something going on at the Abbey.
His
Abbey. Something definitely was amiss on the grounds, and he needed to find out what it was. For everyone’s safety.

Once they reached the bottom of the Tor, Rowena urged him, “Go on, Harry. Please, I’m fine! Don’t worry about me. Run ahead if you need to.”

“I’ll not leave you behind, Rowena. Can you manage a short run?”

She nodded. “Of course, I can!”

“Good. Come on.” Harry laced his fingers through hers and pulled her along. It was not a speedy pace, more of a brisk sprint. He would risk no faster pace with her. Though she seemed healthy and able to run at a speedier pace than they were, she wore skirts and petticoats that could easily wind around her legs. Her half boots might be sturdier than slippers, but they were not made for running.

Rowena used her free hand to hold her bonnet on, for not only were they running, but the wind picked up again. She decided she liked Harry holding her hand.

Although she was nimble enough to manage the stile on her own, Harry assisted her over. It saved time as well as giving him the opportunity to touch her in places he couldn’t when in company. Her waist. Her hip. Her upper arm. They at last were inside the garden at Stonedown.

“Go on to the stables, Harry. I’ll be fine from here,” Rowena assured him.

“If you promise to go straight inside, Rowena.”

She nodded. “Please be careful, Harry.”

Harry bent his head and stole a quick kiss. Reluctantly he released her hand. “I’ll be back soon.” He did run then, pausing only for a moment when she reached the door to make certain she did enter the house.

As he rode across the grounds of the Abbey on his black, Harry saw Lyon near the far end of Lady Chapel. He urged the black toward Amesbury. He watched as Lyon delivered a punch to a brown-coated man, who crumpled to the ground. As Lyon’s opponent went down, two more brown-coated men jumped him.

Harry dismounted and pulled one of the men off of his friend. He delivered a fist squarely to the man’s jaw. The man flew back, landing in the grass. Lyon was successful in felling his man also. Harry then searched for Micah, saw him through the openings of the remaining walls of the Lady Chapel ruins, running toward two men who were mounting their horses. Once mounted, they removed pistols from their coats and turned, pointing them at Micah. Micah turned and dove, rolling inside the skeletal walls of the chapel through a doorway as both men fired upon him.

Harry turned to locate his mount, his intention was to chase the men on horseback. Brown coats and brown hats. Damn! Who the hell were they?

Two more shots rang out. They hit very close. He and Lyon were forced to take cover behind a pile of rubble. Harry lifted his head slightly to take a look around. They both removed their weapons. The two riders were now racing across the abbey grounds in the distance, too far away to fire upon them.

The man he saw Lyon take down on his arrival was now up and gathering the other men. He heard a shot from the Lady Chapel then. Another sounded. From the far side of the Lady Chapel came an armed rider. Wearing brown coat and hat, he pulled three mounts behind him. He continued to fire at the pile of rubble, as did his armed accomplices awaiting him. Harry and Lyon were trapped. Even armed as they were, they hadn’t the time to lift their heads in between shots. The men whom Harry and Lyon previously fought off, now raced toward the rider who towed the extra horses. The armed rider continued to fire in their direction, allowing his comrades to mount their brown horses. It seemed he had an unlimited supply of pistols.