The Herald's Heart (8 page)

Larkin’s mouth dropped open and her heart raced. He can’t mean what I think he means.

What? She nearly shouted. What comes next? Desperate to know what had happened, she pushed the curtain farther from the post.

Talon had sunk his head below the water. All that showed was the gleam of his knees.

She’d just begun to think he would drown when he sprang upward, stood straight in the tub, and shook. Water sprayed from his hair and body.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again, unable to resist the lure of his gleaming skin and taut muscles. She would have much to confess to Father Timoras.

Talon grasped a dry cloth, covered his head, and rubbed as he shouted the end of the song. The cloth muffled his voice just enough that Larkin could not be certain what words he uttered. The action she thought he described seemed physically impossible to her, and no doubt Father Timoras would declare it to be sinful.

He tossed the towel aside and stepped from the tub, then strode straight toward the bed. Larkin froze. Had he somehow discovered her?

He stopped by a chest at the foot of the bed, opened it, and took out fresh clothing. He had his hose gartered and was stepping into his braes when a knock sounded at the door.

“Enter.” He fastened the braes and pulled on a tunic.

“Beg pardon, Sir Talon, but one of the stable boys discovered something odd. Ye might wish to take a look.”

“I’ll be down in a moment.” He sat and put on his boots, then stood, lifting his belt and scabbard and securing them about his hips.

In a trice, he was gone.

Larkin let out the breath she’d been holding, but did not move from her hiding place. He might have forgotten something and return or send someone else to retrieve it. She waited. Sure enough, the door opened.

Two men came in and removed the tub. When they’d gone, Larkin stepped out from hiding. She rubbed herself dry, put on her clothing, and, with wet hair dangling down her back, scurried to the kitchen to dry it before the fire while she ate her supper.

• • •

Talon climbed the stairs to the solar with Cleve at his heels. “What is so odd about the earl’s traveling chair being in the stable?”

“The earl does not ride, sir. An injury he got when he was young prevents him.”

Talon started at this news. “And this is the first time you noticed the chair was not gone along with the earl?”

The guardsman blanched. “The earl disappeared on the same day the ghost started haunting the keep. I already told you how I could get none to come near. And since you came, we’ve been right busy putting the keep in order.”

“What of the men who carried the chair?” He halted at the top of the stairs.

“Since the earl prefers the castle from his second wife’s dowry, he does not stay at Hawksedge Keep often, so we have no specific chair bearers. Any man who is able would do so, when the earl ordered it.” Cleve kept his head bent and traced idle patterns on the stone with his foot.

“Surely the earl does not travel here all the way from the south of England in a chair.”

“Na, sir. He takes a carriage and leaves it at Rosewood because he always stops there before coming on to Hawksedge.”

“Would it be Le Hourde’s men who acted as chair bearers?”

Cleve raised his head, but screwed up his face in thought, still not meeting Talon’s gaze. “Well, they woulda brought the earl from Rosewood, but all went back to Rosewood Castle the same day.”

Talon gnashed his teeth. Getting information from the guardsmen was harder than gathering roses from the sea.

“Did you send for Baron Le Hourde as I asked?”

“I thought ye wanted to wait for Father Timoras to return afore sending for the baron.” The man’s eyes went wide; then his gaze slid away from Talon’s questioning stare.

He huffed. “Send for Le Hourde with all possible speed. Let him know I require his presence in the king’s name.”

“Aye, sir.” Cleve started down the stairs. “I’ll send someone right now.”

“I would hope so,” Talon muttered beneath his breath.

“What’s that ye say, sir?” Cleve climbed back to join Talon.
He headed toward the solar. “Nothing important. I suppose none of the Hawksedge men questioned why they had not been ordered to carry the earl’s chair?”

Cleve swallowed. “’Tis good at supposin’, ye are, sir. I doubt any of the men noticed.”

“With all the work to put the keep to rights, I understand how a chair might go unnoticed.” Surely the captain of the Hawksedge guard would recognize sarcasm when he heard it.

“Thankee, sir. I do appreciate that.”

The man was too thickheaded to know when he’d been chastised.

Talon sighed. “Did the earl often walk outside the keep?”

“Not here, sir. O’ course, the earl was not often here, so ’tis hard to tell if he did anything regular-like outside.”

Talon put his hand on the latch to the solar.

“Tomorrow morning, I want you to send search parties in all directions. Until then, I’m very tired and do not want to be disturbed this night.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Good night then.” He dismissed the man and entered the solar.

“Good night, sir.”

Talon shut the door and strode to the hearth. He stirred the fire, then stripped off his clothing. So, the earl did not visit Hawksedge often nor maintain a large staff, for all it was his ancestral seat. According to Cleve, the earl only came to Hawksedge Keep when necessity demanded. What necessity had brought him this time? Hopefully Baron Le Hourde would be able to cast some light on that question.

Setting the keep to rights was Cleve’s reason for the delay in discovering the earl’s traveling chair. And in truth, the keep was taking a great deal of work. Work that Talon had shared. And though his body ached, at least he no longer stank. Had Larkin enjoyed his song?

He’d realized she was there after Alice left. He couldn’t miss the trail of small damp footprints that led from the tub to the bed curtains. The lavender-and-pansy-scented soap had confirmed his suspicions. Teasing her pleased him a small bit, and no harm had been done, for none knew she’d witnessed his bath. Save for crafty old Alice, who’d tried to help Larkin escape. His only regret was that he had not been able to witness her bathing.

Larkin gleaming and wet was a sight to please any man. Talon had been a long time without bed play, and lithesome Larkin would be just the woman to relieve his needy cock. She might find some pleasure too, if she would allow it. He’d never had complaints from other women. Given her claim to be Lady Larkin Rosham and the solutions she’d attempted to prove herself, he knew her to be creative and persistent. He admired her inventive determination, but they would both be better served with her creativity put to use in bed, not dreaming up more lies.

He stretched, easing the ache that set across his shoulders. Soon he would have that pleasure. ’Twas enough for now that Lady Falsehood remained within the keep where he could seduce her at his leisure. He hummed the tune he hoped would lead to Larkin’s landing in his bed. Tomorrow, after he’d set a more thorough search for the earl in motion, he would pursue the maid when the opportunity presented itself.

He turned to the bed, pulled aside the velvet drapery, and stared at the female occupying the feather mattress, then reached for her.

• • •

Larkin climbed the stairs to the second floor. She was weary to the bone, but at least she no longer smelled like a midden. She looked longingly at the solar. The bed there was soft and warm, and she dearly wished to sleep in comfort. But Sir Talon occupied that bed. He might welcome her, but she would not welcome the consequences of joining him. Especially not if it involved meetings and greetings like those he’d sung about. That cursed song had tortured her thoughts all afternoon. She’d tried every trick she knew to escape the bawdy verses and met with failure at each attempt.

She shook her head and told herself firmly to get to the small chamber directly across from the solar and settle down for the night. She’d selected that room because it was the least filthy of those available. The room held a cot with ticking, and she’d gotten linens from the laundress. Tomorrow she would scour the room from top to bottom. For tonight, ’twas enough to have clean linens, a warm blanket, and privacy. She held her chamber door ajar when a shout of laughter from the solar stopped her.

“Argrh, you’ve no need to be sharp with me. I am beset with feminine invasions of my chamber. First that red-haired nymph steals into my bath. Now you, Cat, steal into my bed.”

She gasped. The lecher. He’d known all along. He needed to know that his behavior was unpardonable. She entered the solar and slammed the door behind her. “You wretched man. You knew I was here.”

His jaw dropped. “I beg pardon?”

“All the time you sang that horrid song, you knew I listened.”

His lips turned up. He stepped between her and her view of the bed’s occupant, then pulled the bed curtain closed.

She wanted to strike the grin from his face. “And then you stood up, while I watched. Did you enjoy it? Did it please you to flaunt your nakedness like any bawd?”

“I think it more to the point to ask if you enjoyed it.”

“Y ... You ... you ... know I could not.”

“Why?”

“’Tis unseemly.”

“You could have left,” he said blandly.

“With you to see me, and all the world to know I was in the room when you bathed?”

“If you shout any louder ’twill be known all the same.”

“You wished to insult me.” She reined in her voice.

“Nay, I do not insult women.” His tone became hard. “’Tis not uncommon for serving women to assist nobles when bathing.”

“It isn’t as if they are ...” Aware she was about to reveal that she, too, had been naked, Larkin stopped.

“Yes? If they are what?” He invited her to finish.

Larkin opened her mouth to speak, then shut it. What could she say?
If they are naked in the same room with you, as I was.
She couldn’t say that. Nor did she want to renew their argument over who she was. ’Twould only anger them both, and she was already angry enough.

Why, oh why had she not simply announced that she was in the bath when she’d first realized he was in the room? The reason hardly mattered now. She could not, would not, admit her actions, especially not in front of a woman who shared his bed. “You have company,” she sniffed and turned to go. “We can discuss your vile behavior another time.”

“Nay.” He reached the door first and blocked her way. “We will discuss my vile behavior now.”

“Not in front of her.” Larkin tossed her head in the direction of the bed.

“Not in front of whom?”

“That woman, the one you called Cat,” Larkin whispered. Of course, he could be so casual about taking a whore in his bed. “What you do is your affair, but I need not remain here to witness it nor offer my own actions for a whore’s amusement.” She tried to push past him.

“Wait a moment. You think I whore here in my ... the earl’s bed?” His eyes lit with humor as he asked the question.

“Yes,” she hissed. “In the hallway, I heard you laugh with her about your bath.”

“I think you must meet Cat.”

Larkin sucked in a breath. “I will not. ’Tis bad enough you flaunt her.”

Talon chuckled and grasped her arm. “I flaunt no one, and I insist that you give a greeting to Cat.”

Larkin tried to shake him off, but his grip, though gentle, was iron, and she could not break free. “Nay, please you. I do not want ...”

Over her protests, he dragged her to the bed and pulled the curtain aside.

When she refused to look, he turned her so she could not avoid seeing the bed and its occupants.

“Oh you poor dear things,” she cried on seeing the mother cat and her newborn kittens. She reached out to stroke the tabby’s soft fur. The cat hissed. “’Tis all right,” Larkin crooned. “Do not fear. I’ll not hurt your babes.”

“I tried that earlier and got scratched for my pains.”

“Do you not know better than to come between a new mother and her babies?”

“I only wanted to move her to the sheepskin before the fire.”

Larkin eyed the sheepskin, stroking the cat all the while. “’Tis a good place for her. But you’ll not get her there this night.”

“Why not?”

“The kittens are very fragile just after birth. Their eyes are not even open yet. She will guard them with her life, if she believes them threatened.”

“Then where should I sleep this night?”

“Wherever you like, but ’twill not be in this bed.”

“Would you take me into yours, sweet Larkin?”

She stared at him and sputtered. “N ... nay. I will not.”

He leaned forward, one arm braced against the bed frame. With his free hand, he caressed her cheek, matching his strokes to the rhythm she used to soothe the cat. She wanted to purr with each easy caress.

“Perhaps, not this night.” His breath tickled her ear. “But soon, Larkin, very soon.”

Her lips parted in a voiceless “O.”

He dipped his head and kissed her there, teasing the sensitive flesh of her mouth with his tongue.

Tantalized, she leaned into the kiss, wanting more.

His palm drifted down her neck, resuming those rhythmic strokes at her collarbone, then her breast, where contentment tightened to an aching need that speared straight to her belly.

She felt boneless, unable to hold herself upright. Her hands clutched for purchase against the bed but found hot, smooth skin and muscled shoulders instead.

Sweet Lord in heaven, he felt so good. When had she ... She pulled back, eyes wide in horror at her actions. She saw her hands resting on his shoulders, her fingers twitching as if they wanted more. A glance at his eyes showed his passion and his sure knowledge of her own unruly desires.

“Aye, Larkin, soon.” He stood and put on his shirt. “Stay here and care for the cats until they can be moved. They will keep you safe enough.” He walked to the door. “But, Larkin.”