Wildewood Revenge (20 page)

“Such as?”
Miles swallowed with difficulty, watching as she pulled the tips of her hair across her lips. He remained transfixed as her tongue delicately swept the strands into measured obedience. Imagined the feel of her tongue on his skin and fought the urge to reach out.

“Mm, I can’t think of anything right now, can you?” She watched him through lowered lashes. He heard her slight intake of breath, the whispered softness as she exhaled and his eyes were drawn down to the coverlet caressing her shoulders and the soft inviting swell of her breasts.

“I can think of one at least.” He raised himself up on one elbow and turned towards her, resisting the urge to touch. “Trouble is
,
it takes two and some considerable effort, if you want it to last as long as possible.” He paused, fighting the desire which threatened to overwhelm him, d
e
termined not to make a move without her assent.

Raising one brow she inched closer, allowing her hair its untidy freedom as she reached out an unsteady hand to gently caress his cheek. “Is this where you make me want, what you want?” she asked provoc
a
tively.

Miles swallowed the groan that began deep in his chest and threa
t
ened to spill out. He turned into her palm, felt her fingers draw delicat
e
ly between his lips, and tasted her briefly before pulling away with a ragged breath. “Only if you wish it...”

She gave a slow smile, an almost imperceptible nod of her head and he lowered his head and kissed her. This time there was no hesitation, her lips felt familiar and they responded instantly to his. He held hi
m
self above her and moved his lips to her neck and the soft skin beneath her ear. She was fragrant her skin was like silk and he wanted more.

He smoothed down the covers and groaned as he revealed her n
a
kedness. She arched against him, and he drew back and gazed down at her in wonder. The candlelight danced off her skin, she was beautiful, bewitching and he was almost undone.

He pulled himself up off the bed, trailing his hand gently across her skin as he stepped away. She watched him through lowered lashes as he dragged his shirt over his head to reveal a torso bearing evidence of many battles, he heard her soft gasp, as he kicked off his boots and slowly unfastened his trousers. He cocked his head and a slow smile escaped, as he watched Grace’s reaction as the rest of his clothes slit
h
ered to the floor.

“Bloody hell...,” she muttered when the extent of his desire was no longer in doubt. She dropped her eyes and Miles grinned and pulled back the bed clothes.

“Now where were we?” he murmured hoarsely as he slid beneath the covers and took her in his arms.

The feel of her softness beneath him, the touch of her hands on his skin sent his heart racing, the blood pounding in his veins. She writhed against him and he took his fill. She kissed his neck, ran her hands across his back, and his muscles rippled in response to her featherlike
touch. He dragged in a breath. He wanted to spend the whole night showing her just how positive his response could be, but she’d b
e
witched him with her sweetness and passion. He tried to pull back and take a breath, kissing her gently while attempting to regain control but the feel of her soft skin against his body as she moved beneath him, and the sound of her passion and soft laughter as she goaded him on, were his undoing. With his mouth on hers, he swallowed her sweet, velvet breath.

Miles felt her gasp as they came together for the first time and was overwhelmed by the sense of rightness that buzzed throughout his body. He held her still in his arms, felt the rhythm of her heart matching his, beat for beat, her skin hot against his.  Breathing hot and heavy against her ear he paused; allowed the moment to stretch tantalisingly, and then he dipped his head and with a lazy smile kissed her open mouth and the games began again.

Later as she lay sleeping, curled in his arms; Miles considered the treasure he’d almost given away. He’d bedded many women but he’d never experienced anyone like Grace.  She was a strange and wonderful creature, her mystery, her secrets both frustrating and endlessly temp
t
ing. She was the most delicious forbidden fruit and he couldn’t help feeling he might yet be damned for allowing himself so much pleasure. He held her, unable to let her out of his grasp, let alone his sight. She was beautiful, passionate and different, and they were perfectly matched. God help anyone who came between them.

Miles slept eventually, entwined with Grace. The moon waned and still he did not wake. He finally stirred at the sound of insistent knoc
k
ing at the door.

Stretching languidly, the feel of Grace’s warm silken skin against
him caused him to react before the reason for his waking registered in his brain. He came fully awake with a start and his eyes shot open. Light streamed through the window. He had missed his shift change with Edmund and there was someone at the door. He leaned over and kissed the tip of Grace’s nose. She was still sleeping and irresistible, but resist her, he must.

He slid from beneath the bed clothes leaving her covered, and pulled on his trousers. Fastening them as he opened the door, he realised his appearance in her chamber in a state of undress would do little for her reputation.

He found Edmund on the other side, hand raised for another round of knocking. The boy took in his master’s appearance without comment and Miles carefully shifted his position to block any view Edmund may have of the bed. No need to rub the boy’s nose in it.

“Is there a problem, Edmund?”

“
Yer
were meant to relieve me.”

“I’m sorry...I became distracted.” He remained distracted. He kept a straight face with great difficulty.

“
Yer
promised me.”

“I promised you what?”

“
Yer
swore an oath that
yer
wouldn’t sell her to yon bishop.”

“And I won’t,” said Miles, confused.

“Then why is yon bishop’s man at the gate?”

Miles stared blankly at the boy and the boy glared back. “On my life, Edmund I have not done this.”

He turned, grabbing his boots and shirt and followed the boy down the stairs. Pausing at the bottom he hopped from one foot to the other pulling on his boots before following Edmund out to the courtyard
dragging his shirt over his head as he walked.

John waited by the gate a heavy mason’s hammer in one hand, he nodded to Miles as he approached but instead of feeling encouraged by the obvious support shown by the man, Miles felt only guilt. What had he done? The whole of the household would now know he and Grace had shared a bed. Would they also believe he intended to sell her out to the bishop? The timing could not have been worse. Even he would have believed he’d taken advantage of her knowing she was to be handed over the next morning. God knows what she would think.

“Open the gates,” he called to Edmund “and close them after I’m out.”

Miles took a calming breath and stepped outside to meet his visitors.

Chapter Twenty Two

Miles expected an entourage and was relieved they numbered only three. Two men at arms were mounted on heavy chestnut horses; they had a look of the plough about them, and were certainly not built for speed. The rider’s, young men in their early twenties looked bored, as if when told of escort duty they’d expected something a tad more exiting. He was momentarily distracted by the thought they seemed familiar, but they wore the livery of the bishop and he knew no one from Durham.

The man whom they escorted sat astride a small highland pony, best suited to a child. The sight all the more ridiculous because the man was grotesquely overweight and his girth appeared to overlap the pony at either side, akin to fleshy saddlebags. Miles knew these mountain ponies were extremely strong; nevertheless he had sympathy for the beast. The man was without hair and wore a velvet cap which matched his crimson robe. The latter marred by a good deal of mud, no doubt thrown up by the horses as they progressed through the snow melt and muddy tracks of the forest. He wondered how they’d navigated their way through the dense woodland.

“
Philibutt
of Mayflower,” the man announced himself with a flourish of spittle and an alarming ripple of blubber. The pony, dozing in the morning sun, awoke with a start and
shied
against the first escort, who in turn nudged the next. Miles waited for them all to topple, but by some fortuitous act of God, they managed to retain their seats.

“Miles of
Wildewood
,” answered Miles formally. “What brings you here at such an early hour?”

The man peered at Miles through cloudy eyes. “I represent His Eminence the Bishop of Durham. I have come to discuss the release of
a young innocent whom I believe you have captive here. I demand you allow us entry, in the name of the church. We require
vittals
and repose and our horses need tending.”

Miles stared at the man and considered his position. “Who has sent you? Where have you gleaned this information? I have no captive here.”

Mayflower narrowed his eyes and sucked at his wet lips.

“How I came upon this information is no concern of yours, what should concern you is the fact I am here to negotiate a ransom. A sizeable ransom if the girl is unharmed,” he added slyly. “Now, I demand entry.”

Miles looked from the escorts to the odious bishop’s aide. He could see no real threat from them and it would be foolish not to allow them to rest before sending them on their way. He scanned the distant tree line, conscious this may be a plot of Gerard’s and there may be men hidden out of sight within the trees. He saw no one.

“Edmund,” he called loudly. “Open the gates and allow our visitors entry.” As he passed through the open gates ahead of the trio, he pulled Edmund and John to one side. “Be watchful, this may be a trick. Edmund, take their horses; make sure they cannot make a speedy exit. John, keep watch across the park, something is amiss here. I sent no messenger, how has word of Grace reached the ears of the bishop?”

Tom
Pandy
emerged from the kitchen. He glanced from the new arrivals to Miles and raised a curious brow.

“Tom, see these men are fed and ask Martha to bring a platter for the bishops aide, we will be in the great hall.” He turned as Mayflower dismounted his steed in a flourish of velvet obesity. The pony gaining inches with the weight removed.

“Come this way, Master Mayflower and you can tell me what it is
you think you know.”

He escorted him into the hall and bade him sit at the table. The fire was kept lit all night during winter and the flames were bright and hot. Mayflower declined his seat and stood instead with his back to the fire and toasted his behind. A pungent odour rose from the man and Miles used considerable will-power not to gag.

“It has come to His Eminence’s attention that you have misappropriated one of the nuns from Kirk
Knowe
and are demanding ransom for her return.”

“Who has made this declaration? I have demanded nothing of the sort.” The only person he’d spoken with, other than Edmund, was Alex Stewart and he’d not have betrayed him. Alex had however told him knowledge of the girl was commonplace. Perhaps word of mouth was responsible for this situation. He glanced at the stairs and willed Grace to stay in her chamber out of harm’s way.

“I am not at liberty to divulge my source,” said the man with an accompanying spray of spittle.

“Then you’ve had a wasted journey, there is no nun from Kirk
Knowe
here.”

Philibutt
of Mayflower scowled. “Do you not wish to know how much the bishop is prepared to pay?”

Miles certainly didn’t want to know how much he was prepared to pay, how much he was sacrificing. If he’d been offered the money three days ago he would have accepted and shook the man’s hand, but not anymore.

“I have no need to know the value of your purse, Master Mayflower, and if you continue with this, I will relieve you of your coin, regardless of whether I am able to fulfil my end of a ransom bargain.”

“You would steal from the church?” The man was aghast and crossed himself piously with podgy fingers tipped by filthy finger nails. He settled himself precariously on a chair.

“No, I would not,” replied Miles. “But I could, particularly if I thought you were not, in fact, acting on behalf of the church.”

Mayflower fluffed out his ample chest like a bird realigning his feathers. He filled his mouth with a selection from Martha’s platter and glowered at Miles.

“I know you have a girl here.” He spat food over the table as he spoke and Miles leaned back in his chair to avoid it. “I must see her and ascertain she is not from the religious order. I cannot in all honesty allow a defenceless innocent to remain
unchaperoned
in the home of an unmarried man. It is unseemly.”

Miles knew she was neither defenceless nor innocent, nor did she require a chaperone, but even so the turn of events concerned him.