The Conquest (8 page)

He fisted a handful of hair and she moaned in delight.

Rhiannon had skipped supper for two reasons. One, she had no desire to see Adelstan, even though she had been unable to keep from thinking of him all evening. And two, she had lost her appetite.

Elspeth had brought up a plate to her chamber but the smell did little to entice her, and she ended up setting it out in the hallway, certain one of the castle’s dogs would find and devour it. Or mayhap a hungry tower guard.

After her bath, Rhiannon sat before the fire in nothing but her chemise, wondering what on earth she would say to Adelstan when she saw him again.

Mayhap she could say she’d taken ill and was feverish. 

Rhiannon looked down at the book in her hand. She had read the same page six times and could not calm her mind enough to take the words in.

Setting the book aside, she paced the chamber and looked at the large canopy bed with distaste. Sleep was the last thing on her mind. Perhaps she should go in search of Elspeth, who was probably still with Antony in the stables. The fresh air itself would do her good.

Browsing through Elspeth’s wardrobe, Rhiannon ended up choosing a rough, russet-colored cloak and a pair of well-worn slippers, both of which should not draw attention to her as her own finer clothing would.

Shutting the chamber door behind her, she rushed down the stairs swiftly, pulling the hood up and over her hair.

Her father would have a fit if he found her out wandering this time of night by herself, and in nothing but a chemise and cloak. She could only hope he was sound asleep by now.

Exiting the tower, she took a sharp left to the middle ward, a place she often went to find solace. However, that had been in the light of day and at night the middle ward was pitch black, save for a few torches here and there. Picking up her pace, she came to the doorway that served as a hallway into the inner ward, and it just so happened to set between the chapel and bakehouse. She opened the door slowly, and closed it, releasing a sigh when no guard called out.

How tempted she was to go to the stables to find Elspeth, but she would not steal away what little time the maid had with her lover.

She peeked into the inner ward and saw a group of soldiers lingering nearby. Damn! What were they still doing up at this hour?

Waiting for a heart-pounding minute, Rhiannon looked out into the inner ward again and spotted one of Adelstan’s men-at-arms. The handsome man with dark hair and piercing silver eyes laughed at something one of the others said, his teeth flashing white in a wolfish smile.

If she took a chance and walked right by Adelstan’s friend, would he allow her to pass without giving her true identity away and alerting the others? She had a feeling he might keep her secret, but would her father’s trusted soldiers?

A strange noise carried out into the night, coming from the vicinity of the bakehouse. Who on earth would be there at such a time? Had Elspeth and Antony met here instead?

Nervous, Rhiannon inched toward the door, which was already slightly ajar, but she could not see anything through the tiny space. Pushing the door open a little more, she looked inside and her heart gave a hard jolt upon seeing Adelstan. She nearly said his name, but was stopped short of doing so when she realized all was not right. She could not see all of him, but his head fell back on his shoulders, his eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, and he breathed hard.

A feminine moan came again, and Rhiannon opened her mouth in outrage when she nudged the door open a sliver more to find Machara on her knees, sucking Adelstan’s cock.

Though part of Rhiannon wanted desperately to slam the door, she knew doing so would make her look extremely childish and jealous.

Damn him!

Adelstan shifted on his feet, his fingers gripping the whore’s hair, his hips slowly pumping against her mouth.

“Do ye like that?” Machara asked, one hand holding his hard cock still as she smiled up at Adelstan, who nodded, his eyes heavy-lidded.

“Ye can come whenever ye like. I do not mind. Ye can make it up to me another night.”

Having brought herself to orgasm, Rhiannon knew Adelstan must be experiencing the same or similar sensations. If only that were her mouth on Adelstan’s cock instead of the servant’s, whose head now moved back and forth with great speed.

Adelstan’s thick length, slick with saliva, disappeared and appeared in rapid succession.

As she stared, Rhiannon’s nipples grew sensitive, and heat wove its way through her veins, down low in her belly, to her sex, which pulsed with the need to be filled.

Machara’s hands cupped the high cheeks of Adelstan’s ass as her mouth worked him into a frenzy. A deep, primal moan vibrated from within his chest, and Rhiannon felt it all the way to her bones.

Adelstan thrust a few more times, and released a pleased moan as he reached climax, pumping slowly against the servant’s mouth.

His hands cupped Machara’s cheeks, and he smiled softly, obviously pleased with her performance. Machara went back on her heels and smiled up at him, wiping his seed from her lips with her fingers.

Rhiannon noted Adelstan’s cock still appeared semihard. Her own sex tightened looking at him, envisioning the large length inside her now weeping sheath.

Her body burned for him.

“Tomorrow night I shall make it up to you,” Adelstan said, pulling up his braies and tying them.

“I shall count the minutes until then,” Machara said, a confident smile on her face.

Rhiannon rolled her eyes and ignored the piercing envy that nearly choked her.

Adelstan reached for Machara and kissed her gently. The woman sighed, her arms encircling his neck. Rhiannon took a step backward, being careful not to alert the two in any way.

However, Machara must have seen her from the corner of her eye because she gasped. A second later Adelstan whipped open the door.

“Lady Rhiannon,” he said, looking alarmed.

Rhiannon pretended to be closing the chapel door behind her. She hoped he could not see how red her cheeks were. Indeed, it was all she could do to make eye contact with him.

“Good evening, Sir Adelstan,” she said, hoping she sounded surprised. Rhiannon didn’t look at Machara, but she noted the woman’s hand rested possessively on Adelstan’s bicep.

“Are you coming from the chapel?” Adelstan asked, shutting the bakehouse door behind him.

Rhiannon nodded. “Aye, I could not sleep, so I decided that perhaps prayer would help.”

Machara’s brows rose, but she remained quiet.

Rhiannon intentionally let her gaze shift from Adelstan to Machara and back again. “What are the two of ye up to?”

“Machara needed my assistance.”

The servant’s lips quirked.

“This time of night?” Rhiannon asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

“Aye,” Adelstan said quickly. “Machara, did you get everything you needed?”

Machara glanced up at Adelstan. “For tonight,” she said, dropping her hand to her side. “I shall see ye on the morrow?”

“Aye,” Adelstan replied, and waited until she walked off, leaving the two of them alone.

“Lady Rhiannon, let me walk you back to your chamber,” he said, reaching for her arm, but she stepped away from him.

“That is not necessary,” Rhiannon said, walking toward the gate she’d just passed through.

“Do ye often leave your chamber unattended?”

“Nay, only when Elspeth is occupied.”

“Why do you go by way of the middle ward? It is dark, and you could run into trouble.”

“The only person I fear is my father.”

“Why is that?”

She turned to look at him, and almost wished she hadn’t. He was so gorgeous. “Because he looks for me to do wrong in order to punish me.” She had meant to say it lightheartedly, but it didn’t come out that way.

“I find it hard to believe that is so.”

Rhiannon shrugged. “Believe what ye will, Adelstan. It is not easy for me to come and go as I please like ye do. Ye may sulk around the bakehouse with a comely servant, but I, on the other hand, am not as fortunate.”

He straightened a little, his green eyes narrowing. What had Elspeth said…to use her wits? She need not act like a jealous wife. After what she had just witnessed, she seethed with jealousy, but by damn, she would not show it. “Is that why you are dressed as you are? So you can come and go as you please?”

She had forgot about the borrowed cloak and slippers. “Aye, it is.” She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with his direct gaze. “I am sure ye are tired after your sport, so I shall let ye go.”

“Rhiannon, please.”

Ignoring him, she pushed the door to the middle ward open and slipped through. A rush of wind blew the hood back, along with the cloak, the chemise whipping about her legs.

Rhiannon made no move to cover herself, especially seeing where Adelstan stared. She wanted him to look.

“You must be cold,” he said, grabbing for the edges of the cloak, trying to bring them together, but she pulled away.

Rhiannon’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at her, the nerve in his jaw twitching. Despite her resistance, he caught the edges of the cloak together and pulled the material tight about her. “You shall catch your death.” He pulled the hood back over her hair. “Why did you leave your chamber dressed in so little?”

“I needed to think.”

“About?”

“My future.”

His gaze shifted over her face. “It is not wise to go out at night. A man might see you and get the wrong impression.”

“What kind of impression? That I am a servant who is out searching for a lover?”

She could not believe she had been so bold to say those words, and yet she felt a certain vindication having done so, especially when she noted the strange look of guilt in his eyes. He wondered if she had seen him with Machara or not, and was no doubt at this moment curious as to just how much she had seen.

Let him wonder.

“Who goes there?” a loud, booming voice said from the ramparts.

“Do not say a word,” Adelstan said, putting an arm around Rhiannon’s shoulder and pulling her close. She reveled in the heat and strength of his body flush against her own.

“It is I, Adelstan of Braemere.”

“Good evening, sir,” the guard called, a knowing smile on his lips. “I suggest ye stay to the inner ward. It is well lit.”

“Thank you,” Adelstan replied as he turned and walked back through the gate. “Keep your head down and put your arm about my waist. No one should stop us, and if they do, I shall do my best to protect your identity.”

Rhiannon slipped her arm around his waist and smiled inwardly when she heard his quick intake of breath.

They stepped into the inner bailey, and Rhiannon had to walk fast in order to keep up with Adelstan’s long strides. Someone called out his name, and she felt him lift his free hand in greeting. He pulled her closer. “We shall be at the tower shortly.”

With each step toward the tower, the more she savored the feel of his touch…until the memory of what she had seen moments before in the bakehouse flashed in her mind.

Her emotions were in turmoil. Part of her wanted to tell him exactly how she felt about him, and the other wanted to berate him for having been with Machara just hours after she had all but thrown herself at him. If he longed to be with a servant, then he had every right to be, and there was nothing she could do about it.

It might take time, but if she could keep Adelstan at Castle MacKay, then perhaps she could, little by little, win him over.

But to what end?

Nothing would change her future. She would marry Malgor de Cion, even if Adelstan did become her lover. And what then? Would they spend their lives always looking for a bakehouse or some other quiet building in which to make love?

“Good night, Rhiannon,” Adelstan said, stopping at the base of the tower stairs.

“Ye come no further?” she asked, her brow lifted in surprise.

“I would hate for your father to wake and find the two of us alone together.”

She lifted a brow. “Ye are afraid of my father?”

His eyes narrowed. “Nay, I am not afraid of your father.”

“Then walk me to my room.” She ascended the steps, not waiting to see if he followed. Feeling his gaze on her back, she smiled inwardly.

Stopping at her chamber, she turned back to look at him while opening the door. “Would ye like to come in for a moment?”

He swallowed hard, and shook his head. “I cannot.”

The cloak slid from her, and she tossed it over a chair, aware his light eyes followed her every movement. “Come in for just a moment. I swear I shall not bite.”

“Where is your maid?” he asked, taking a step in, but the door remained open.

“With her lover.”

He flinched as though she had struck him.

“Does that surprise ye?”

“No, but hearing you say it does.”

“Ah, ye think me unladylike.”

His lips curved softly. “Nay, I do not think you unladylike, Rhiannon.”

She straightened her shoulders, and pressed her hands to the small of her back, knowing full well the stance pushed her breasts out. “My back aches from this morning’s ride.”

She could tell he fought to keep his gaze at eye level. “Is that why you missed supper?”

“Aye,” she said, despite the fact it was not the truth.

* * *

Liquid fire rushed through Adelstan, and it was all he could do not to pull Rhiannon into his arms and kiss the coy smile from her lips.

The moment he’d walked out of the bakehouse and found her standing there, he had been consumed by guilt.

But why?

She was hardly his woman, and yet he felt compelled to put her mind at ease, to let her know that Machara—or any other woman for that matter—could not hold a candle to her.

Her long hair licked at her high buttocks, the chemise hiding absolutely nothing from his gaze. Now she walked toward the fire, standing before it, her slender back taunting him as she held her hands out to the flames.

He trembled with his need for her, and here, after he had just had his cock sucked by another. But in his mind it had been Rhiannon who had pleasured him, her mouth, her tongue, her hair he had fisted in his hand, not Machara’s.