Wildewood Revenge (17 page)

“I...I am not this person...this spy...,” she stammered. “I...don’t know anyone here...least of all the king or this Gerard. I don’t belong here. I just want to go home.”  She shook her head desperately. “If you really believe I’ll
bring danger to your home,
then
let me go now before he arrives so the children will remain safe. You choose to disbelieve everything I say and yet I’ve never deliberately lied to y
ou. I didn’t ask to come here, y
ou forced me. This is none of my doing.” She held his gaze determinedly, despite the tremor in her lower lip, “This is your doing,” she added softly. The tears spilled over and slipped softly down her cheeks.

He heard the break in her voice as she fought for control and his gut twisted with shame. He witnessed her inner struggle, saw the way her chest heaved with the task of keeping her sobs in, felt how her whole body trembled against him with the effort of restraining hers
elf and he was filled with self-
loathing. He was a fool. What had he become? He’d set out to scare her, indeed had taken some measure of satisfaction from it, and succeeded in terrifying her. She was correct, he was a bully. He was worse than Gerard.

Whatever the truth, and he was certain it would remain a
mystery,
he
di
d not believe her a spy. She might possess
guile,
she might
have feminine wiles to ensnare the unwitting, but under real pressure she buckled easily. There was no way he could allow Gerard near her. She was no match for such
evil. How he would achieve that
was yet to be determined. He’d no men to speak of, very few weapons
,
and from experience
,
he knew G
erard to be a ruthless foe. But
he himself was trained in warfare and the killing of men, he just needed a plan.

He closed the gap and drew her away from the door. Her resistance quickly dissolved as he placed his hand against her back and pressed her gently against him. He let her cry until her fists unclenched and she had worn herself out
,
and when her tears were finally exhausted
,
he led her to the bed, sat down next to her on its edge and sought to undo the hurt.

“Mademoiselle, please forgive me. I did not intend for this. I fear we find ourselves at the mercy of events beyond our control. Pleas
e do not alarm yourself further.
Gerard will not gain entry to
Wildewood
.”

He gently brushed her fringe from her eyes and his hand lingered, absently stroking her hair, soothing her. She leaned into his hand.

“Gerard and I have a shared history, perhaps this has allowed a confusion to grow and flourish.” He faltered, “Like you, I am tired of it all, and today I am especially weary.” He lifted her chin so he could look her in the eye and see for h
imself the damage he’d caused, t
he trust he’d destroyed. “I am truly sorry, Mademoiselle. I beg your forgiveness.” His heart sank when he recognised her disappointment.

He should have stayed where he belonged, amongst t
he dead and dying on the battle
field. Perhaps it was too late for him to make amends
.

Chapter Eighteen

The fiery blush had long since left her cheeks. In its place, her skin carried the pallor of resignation and quiet determination. He watched as she reached out an unsteady hand and placed her palm against his cheek. He held his breath enjoying the touch as her hand slid hesitantly across his unshaven jaw and hovered over his scar. She’d no reason to fear him now, but perhaps it was too late. She’d witnessed the strength of his emotions when he feared for those close to him. Pity then, that she did not realise she was closest of them all.

“I forgive you,” she whispered softly, her tears spent.

His heart lurched with hope. “Why?”

She shrugged gently. “Because, if I don’t, if I believe instead the glimpse of hell I saw in your eyes when you held me, then I may as well accept the fact that you’re as evil as Gerard.” She inhaled softly and raised her head to look at him. “I don’t believe you’re an evil man, but I suspect you’ve experienced evil in the past. In that respect we are alike.”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment and he saw his own indecision mirrored in her eyes. Her hand gently cupped his chin and she drew him closer. Miles hesitated and while he considered this surprising turn of events she reached up and hesitantly brushed her lips across his. They were warm and moist.

He closed his eyes briefly. Was she playing the game again? He wasn’t sure, wasn’t certain about anything to do with her anymore. He had bullied her, terrified her, hurt her beyond forgiveness and yet here she was playing with fire, with no concept of how badly she could be burned. She considered them alike, yet she couldn’t be further from the
truth. He lowered his mouth and gently took her lower lip between his teeth, tugging. He covered her lips with his and she obliged, parting hers to allow his tongue entry. Miles growled as the kiss deepened. If this was a game, then it was a good game and he was happy to play. But if it was merely a reaction to his appalling behaviour, then he wanted none of it.

He paused, the effort in doing so caused his muscles to knot, his hand to shake. She had initiated this, but still, he was uncertain. He took a steadying breath and lifted his head to look at her. Her face was flushed and her eyes clouded with confusion. Did she think this was all she had to off
er in exchange for her safety o
r did she imagine she could manipulate him to her own tune?

Of course she wanted him, he reasoned.
Who wouldn’t
, he thought derisively. Wasn’t he every woman’s dream, the un-chivalrous knight with dubious morals who thought nothing
of bullying girls half his size,
the soldier of fortune who thought more of revenge than forgiveness, and of lust rather than love? He watched her, seeing through the shell of confusion and indignation to the passion which simmered beneath the surface. She was a mass of contradiction and secrets.

He needed a reason to change, to put his past behind him once and for all. Perhaps that was why fate had brought her to him, to test his resolve and prove his worth.

He drew a breath and smiled slowly at her.
It was time to start a new game
where he would make the rules and ensure that he won.

“Mademoiselle, I am a scoundrel, with the manners of a rabid dog. You must excuse me.” He pulled away and stood, putting much needed space between them.

She frowned at him, puzzled perhaps by his withdrawal. He took
some pleasure from the obvious flicker of disappointment which accompanied her furrowed brow.

He was not an animal, even if she caused him to behave as one. She was a lady
,
whether she realised it or not
,
and he should treat her as such. He’d spent all morning in the saddle, he reeked of horse, sweat and fatigue, and she deserved more. More importantly he had no wish to discover that her acquiescence was merely a reaction to his behaviour and her fear.

“Be assured, I will never hurt you.”

“You flatter yourself, Miles,” she murmured. “No man could ever hurt me.” Her strained voice was at odds with her words. Her hand strayed to her hair, the nervous gesture revealing far more than she could have guessed.

“I a
ssure you, I could,” he replied
silently.

Her earlier confidence, though frustrating and amusing in equal measures, was suddenly revealed as a fragile shell and he had no wish to shatter it. He stepped away, keen to put some space between them. His self-discipline had limits.

“I have things I must do now, but later we might discuss the subject in more detail.”

He resisted the urge for a further kiss and crossed to the door, drew back the bolt and took a steadying breath. H
e was half
way out of the door when he remembered the pony.

“I almost forgot. I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” Grace smiled tentatively. “What kind of surprise?”

“A big one.”

Grace raised one brow.

Miles shook his head slowly, almost gave in and re-bolted the door,
but held onto his resolve. “Your surprise awaits you in the stables, my lady.”

“The stables?”
She crossed to the chest, climbed clumsily onto it and looked out through the window.

Miles followed and steadied her around the waist. He resisted the urge to run a hand beneath her skirt, to fee
l the smooth skin of her thigh.
His heart rate increased and his stomach knotted with anticipation. He resisted them both.

“How is your leg?” he asked hoarsely.

“It only hurts when someone decides to manhandle me.”

“Mm, then I’d best desist.”

*  *  *

He escorted her to the stables and was surprised by the look of genuine pleasure on her face when he led out the palfrey. He had to admit the filly was stunning, a little taller than Edmunds pony but much finer in proportion with a sweet Arabian head.

“You got this for me?” she asked, bewildered. “Why would you do that, I ...I don’t know what to say.”

Miles handed her the lead rein and winked. “You can thank me later.”

Grace smiled at him. “Is that where you’ve been for the past two days, getting this pony?”

“Amongst other things,” he replied carefully. He didn’t think it prudent now, to let her know he’d been trying to make arrangements to sell her hide to the bishop.

She allowed the pony to nuzzle its velvet nose against her cheek; closed her eyes and breathed in its scent like a mother with her ne
w
child. Miles was captivated. Everything she did
made
him want her more. He shifted his gaze and thoughts to the hay loft and abandoned them just as quickly in favour of a soft mattress and the privacy of a locked chamber. He could wait.

“Aren’t you worried I’ll use her to make my escape?” she asked.

“Should I be concerned?” He wouldn’t put it past her to head off into the wilderness.

Grace laughed.
“No, at least not until after you give me my next big surprise.”

Miles cupped the back of her neck and pulled her to him. “Now there’s a challenge.” He
lowered his head and kissed her. He
intended it to be a fleeting taste but her husky response was his undoing and he angled his mouth and
crushed her lips with his own.
“In that case, I shall ensure I make myself a little less resistible.”

“Edmund was right. You really are bad, aren’t you?”

Miles held his hands out in mock surrender. She had no idea how bad he could be. The tho
ught chilled him
but he was determined not to spoil the moment with unbidden memories. “Guilty as charged, my lady,” he replied s
oftly. “Now, I must go and wash.
I see your nose wrinkling ever so slightly. You may return to whatever it was you were doing before I scared you in to my arms.”

“I was painting,” she said
,
“with Linus.”

Miles studied her, caught the change in her tone
,
and felt what she’d s
aid was significant in some way
but wasn’t sure why. “Good, you may show me later, but in the meantime stay indoors. Edmund will see to the pony and if the weather holds you may ride her later.” He led the pony back in to the stables and Grace watched as he bolted the door and turned to leave.

“Miles…
” she called after him softly and he turned.
“
You do believe me
,
don’t you?”

“Should I?”

“Yes.”

“Then I believe you.” He turned back and started across the courtyard.

“Miles…
” He stopped and turned again.
“Nothing.
”

He smiled at her as she gathered her skirts and walked away. Later couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Nineteen

Grace returned to the kitchen and Martha’s questioning look. The woman was agog with curiosity. Grace had
,
after all, been dragged to her chamber by Miles.

“He’s a fine figure of a man
,
is he not?” stated Martha shrewdly.

Grace rolled her eyes. That was definitely an understatement.

“I barely know him,” she replied cautiously as she gathered up the crude colours she’d managed to create from the available raw materials. Linus had made hand prints on the scrap of white linen she’d left him with. He was curled up now, asleep on a basket of rags
in front of the cooking range, a mud-
coloured thumb stuck in his little cherub mouth. She dipped a finger in the paint and carefully scrawled his name beneath his artwork.