Chapter Seventeen
William parried aside Ronan’s arcing sword, turned, and then elbowed him in the stomach. Ronan grunted from the impact. Then his eyes focused over William’s head, something catching his attention. He lowered his sword arm to his side.
“
Look,” Ronan said.
William
turned. Triona and Rhiannon were standing side-by-side, their cloaks rippling in the breeze. Rhiannon tapped her foot as if she’d been waiting for ages.
Ronan sheathed his sword
, grinning. “I love it when my wife arms herself.” He started across the field toward Triona.
William
followed at a slower pace. He was having a difficult time being near Rhiannon now.
Submission.
An act of wifely submission? After everything they’d been through, was that all he was to her?
Ronan
wrapped his arms around Triona’s waist, lifting her feet right off the ground. She laughed as he carried her off like that, disappearing to parts unknown.
So much for Triona actually using that dagger. All she had to do was strap it on and Ronan lost his head.
William had long-since stopped analyzing whether or not he was jealous, because he knew very well that he was. Not of Ronan per say, although there was a time when that plagued him as well. Now he was jealous of them, of what they had together.
He
stopped before Rhiannon.
“My laird.
” She ducked her head. “I have come to challenge you.”
William laughed
. Then he found the tip of her dagger in his face.
“Draw you dirk,” she
said, her voice husky.
“You
have been convalescent. And your arm is not yet healed enough for this.”
“
I have two arms, do I not? And I have been walking for an hour every day with Alice.”
“You
’ve been what?”
“You would know
this, if you had bothered to speak to me.” Her brows arched.
Was that what this was about? Did he not give her the distance she’d asked for?
The way he saw it, he was the one who had the greater right to be angry.
“Go inside
,” William told her. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. The problem was that he didn’t know how to relate to her anymore. William turned away, his head pounding.
A sharp pinch in the middle of his back got his attention.
William turned, fingers feeling around for the point of attack. When he brought his hand back he saw blood. Only a flesh wound, but she had driven her dagger straight through his leather jerkin.
“Now you wi
ll have to accept my challenge,” she said primly.
“And why should I?”
Green eyes met his. “Because if you win, you . . . get me in your bed.” She nodded. “Is that enough incentive?”
It took William a moment to find his breath. “You’
re a woman,” he managed. “You canna challenge me over blades.”
“
I do believe, my laird, that I am the only one who really can.”
S
he did have a point, aside from the one that had stuck him in the back.
“Will you accept?” she asked.
By all that was holy, how could he refuse? He closed his eyes and prepared himself. She would not be able to do more than literally sleep with him, but to be near her would have to be enough. It was certainly better than having her in the next room. “I will get a dull short sword.”
“As you wish, my laird.”
She dropped him a curtsy.
William
sifted through the assortment of practice weapons in a bin, finding one suitable.
“Out on the field
,” she said when he’d finished. Gesturing with the tip of her dagger, she marched him across the field, men grinning at them. William glared at each in turn until they looked the other way. “Now you may stop,” she said, taking a defensive stance.
“Rhiannon, I dinna want to
do this with you.”
She swiped her blade under his nose. “You might want to defend yourself.”
He did.
She was stronger tha
n he gave her credit for. Faster too. He blocked her serpentine attacks, watching the wild look in her eyes. It took him an embarrassingly long time to figure it out what he saw in them. Once realization dawned, it hit him like a jolt through his already scattered awareness.
William stepped ba
ck and held up his hands in complete and utter surrender.
“Do you
yield?” she asked.
“Aye, lass
ie, I yield to you.” He tossed the dirk aside. “Today, tomorrow, forever. And in every conceivable way.”
Her eyes widened and she
sheathed her dagger. Her chest rose and fell under ivory linen, the top of her bodice creasing where once it would have gaped against her sternum. One, two, three pulses pounded behind his ears before he lurched forward and pulled her into his arms. She was warm and soft.
“Why d
o you fight me so hard?” he asked.
“Because you d
o not want me.” She averted her eyes, dark auburn lashes cast over her cheekbones.
“Not want you?”
She was the one who had moved out of their chamber.
“You do
not look at me. You do not talk to me.”
“Do
you want me to look at you?”
She blushed
and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You
told me once that you
look
at me.”
She nodded, her face pinched.
“And it scares you?”
“Of course it scares me!
” Her fingers clutched his arms in a death grip. “I cannot sleep without you next to me. I wake up afraid of every noise, and I miss the sound of your breathing, and the way you tuck your arm around me, as if reminding me that you’re right there and you’re not going anywhere. And I think . . . I think I want more of you.” Her voice dropped by an octave. “A lot more.”
Her back was arched now, pressing her more fully into him. His leather jerkin might as well have melted away, because he felt her every curve. He
turned her face into his, then lowered his head, giving her a moment to pull back. When she didn’t, he kissed her.
M
oaning, Rhiannon wrapped her arms around his neck. Heat burned, raging through his veins as she clung to him. William lifted his head and scooped her into his arms. He wasn’t sure how she would react once they reached their chamber, but he knew that he had to get Rhiannon alone. And now.
William took her inside and up the stairs, ignoring every person they passed. He
finally set her down inside their room and kicked the door closed behind him.
“Do
not.” She cringed.
It was only by the grace of God
that he managed to catch the door before it slammed. He closed it with a careful hand and bolted it. Then he turned back to her.
“Thank you.” Rhiannon
looked at him with expectation. Too bad he didn’t know exactly what she needed from him. Chances were, she didn’t know either.
William
lowered his face until his forehead touched hers, then cupped the back of her head in one hand and circled his other arm around her waist. He brought her against him, relishing for a moment in being with her.
“
I want to try,” she said. “But please don’t be disappointed, no matter what happens.”
She wanted him. How could he be disappointed with that? Rather, he hoped she didn’t find herself
disappointed with him. He wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed with a woman who’d been abused.
William
took her by the shoulders, urging her back. “I am going to close the shutters. We have time. I dinna plan on leaving this room before tomorrow morning. Other than to get us food.” He forced himself to smile for her, hoping he looked more confident than he felt.
While he closed the shutters,
Rhiannon took off her cloak and unbuckled her belt with the dagger in its sheath, setting it on the table. William left his weapons piled around hers. He rolled his shoulder. It was stiff after long days in the lists against any man who would oblige him.
Rhiannon
took a deep breath and William had the impression she was gathering her courage around her.
“Kiss me
?” she whispered, stepping up to him.
William
lowered his face and kissed her scarred lips. Her scent of ginger and woman enveloped him. She tasted even better than she smelled, earthy, and a little salty from her exercise in the lists.
Rhiannon pushed against his chest and he backed off.
“I didn’t mean . . .” She looked a little embarrassed. “I was just going to tell you that you can take your shirt off.”
He almost did, then stopped. “You do it.”
Her brow furrowed.
“When you’re ready. I’ll help you with your laces, if you need it.”
He wanted her to set the pace.
She nodded in understanding, then slipped out of her shoes.
“Better take your boots off,” she said.
He did, tossing them aside. Och, aye, he could get used to letting her have her way with him. “As you wish.”
Coming forward, her bottom lip between her teeth, she peeled the top part of his plaid aside then worked his shirt upward. He ducked so she could pull it over his head.
Not touching her, as much as he wanted to, he let her look him over. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen him before, but this time it was different. Her hand smoothed over his scared shoulder, and down his arm
. Then, with a look of determination, she set to work on his belt.
“Is this fair,” he teased. “You still have all your clothes on.”
She glanced up at him, her cheeks red. “You said it was up to me.”
“Completely up to you
,
mo leannan
.”
She struggled with the buckle, then finally worked it loose. His plaid pooled to the floor. Rhiannon turned and set his belt on the table, hesitating before she turned back. Her eyes flicked over him briefly, then she looked at the bed, then she cleared her throat and watched his feet.
When she didn’t lift her face, he decided she might need a little encouragement. William held out his hand. She placed her fingers in his, and he tugged her forward.
“Now what,” she whispered, looking at his chest.
“Permission to take down your hair?” he asked.
“You have it.”
He pulled free the combs, putting them on the table. Rhiannon shook her waves out.
“You can unlace me.” She turned her back to him, tucking her hair over her shoulder.
He tugged free the knots on her bodice, her sleeves and her skirt. All the pieces of her gown joined the growing pile on the table, until Rhiannon stood before him in her chemise.
“I
don’t think I’m ready to take it off yet,” she said, cringing.
“You dinna have to.”
She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “And now . . . ?”
“You
could
just sit with me first.”
“Nay.
We have already done that much.” She walked to the bed. Rhiannon pulled back the blankets and crawled in.
He looked at his plaid on the floor, then picked it up. William
lay down next to her, spreading the swath of wool over the both of them. Rhiannon rested her cheek on his arm, then she wiggled a little closer, her arm coming around his waist. He wanted to urge her flush against him, then checked himself. It had to be her decision. He’d done enough damage over the weeks of her convalescence, which he belatedly realized was probably why she’d left his chamber in the first place.
He wanted to keep her with him this time.
William ran his hand down her back, proceeding as if he were walking through frozen heather, waiting for the step that would crush through the ice, twisting his ankle.
Her palm smoothed down his back, as if she thought it best to mimic whatever he was doing. He found her other hand between them, brought it to his mouth, and kissed her palm.
“No part of me is off limits to you,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to touch you.”
She squeezed his fingers. “All right.”
Brow furrowed, looking like she was concentrating entirely too hard, considering what she was doing, she sat up, then pushed the plaid aside and worked her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. Hesitating, she skipped from his stomach to his legs, her hands running under his calves then his feet. He didn’t so much as twitch lest she be unnerved by it. He had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning.