Part 16 (2/2)

David's suspicions of Sir Walter flared again, but he said only, ”If he's in the castle, then it will be easy to apprehend him when he strikes again. I need someone to keep watch for me out in the great hall. Would you watch for anyone suspicious?”

”Aye!” Realizing he might have sounded too eager, Eudo slid off the bed and took the tray. In a more moderate tone, he said, ”This sounds like a good plan. Is there anything else I can do for you before you sleep?”

”Douse the candles.” David watched as Eudo did as instructed. ”All except this one by the bed. And shut the door behind you. I don't need to hear the talk from the great hall.” He saw Eudo's face fall, and he realized how difficult Eudo's evening would be. ”You don't need to hear it either, lad. Hurry through your ch.o.r.es and come back to your mat in here.”

”Aye, Sir David.” Eudo threw him one valiant grin and plunged into the great hall, pulling the door tight and shutting himself out of the safety which David's chamber represented.

David relaxed, replete and at ease with himself now that he had a plan. He would spar with Hugh, practice until he reached his former fighting form, and not worry about those whose pride and safety rode on his success. Not about Eudo. Not about Alisoun. Not even about...himself.

Sudden tears stung, and he pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes to cut off the unwelcome flow. How could he be concerned about himself when so many people depended on him? But he was. Defeat tasted bitter in his mouth, and he would have done anything to wipe this afternoon from his mind. Younger men, better fighters, had been nipping at his heels for years, but always he'd floated within the bubble of that legend. Now the bubble had burst and he'd fallen to earth with a crash. All those years of fighting in tournaments and battles, and his goals had been ever foremost in his mind. Land, a home, a family. He didn't realize when he got them they'd consume him, lull him, so thoroughly he'd neglect the very skills by which he'd earned his way.

Now he was older, slower. Being a fighter was a young man's game. Yet...

If his skills had disintegrated, his wit had sharpened. Surely he could protect Alisoun and reclaim Eudo's respect with a combination of skill and guile. Surely he could earn his way and support his child, and most important, face himself in the basin of still water where he washed his face.

On that resolution, he dozed, waking only a little when the door creaked open. He thought it was Eudo, come to sleep away from the teasing of the other boys, so he allowed himself to drift, still caught in the current of sleep.

Light footsteps crept close to the bed, and he almost spoke, wis.h.i.+ng Eudo a good night.

Then a scent enticed him. His nostrils twitched; he had to be dreaming, but he'd never dreamed a fragrance before. It smelled like marjoram and rue and lemon balm-an odd combination, and one he'd smelled earlier today. But where?

The step stool sc.r.a.ped closer. The sheet lifted. Opening his eyes he saw her-Lady Alisoun, clad in a white linen s.h.i.+ft, climbing into bed beside him.

Not even surprise could make him hesitate. Placing his hands on her waist, he helped her in beside him.

11.

David had had dreams like this before. A woman came to his bed, leaned over and said, ”I want you,” with husky pa.s.sion in her tone. This must just be another satisfying, ultimately frustrating dream.

But this dream girl behaved differently than she should. She was distressingly silent. She didn't smile seductively. And she didn't utilize the expertise his usual dream-women exhibited.

”Alisoun?” he asked, the sound of his own voice whimsical and distracted. ”Are you really here?”

”Lie back,” she directed. ”You're hurt. I'll do all the work.”

That snapped him out of his reverie. Only Alisoun would use that tone of voice when visiting a man's bed dressed in a gauzy s.h.i.+ft. ”What are you doing here?” he demanded.

”Learning how to swive.” She appeared astonished, then abashed. ”That is, if you are willing to oblige me.”

Aye, it was really Alisoun. Only Alisoun would wear a wimple to hide her hair and keep the sheet draped over his hips. Only Alisoun would order a man to be still while she used his body to debauch herself. Only Alisoun would want to retain supremacy.

Only Alisoun lacked the experience to bring her desire to fruition.

This situation required much thought. He needed to understand why she was here now, after the day he'd had, but more important, she needed immediate rea.s.surance. Placing his hand against her neck as she sat beside him on the mattress, he said, ”I am yours to do with as you will.”

That apparently was all she needed to hear. She briskly arranged the pillows under his head, as he tried to comprehend what had brought him this sudden blessing. She seemed to have no concept of her body and how it would work on him, for as she bobbed around him, he could see her b.r.e.a.s.t.s moving through the thin linen of her s.h.i.+ft. The nipple of one rubbed his shoulder, and his hand rose to cup it in an involuntary reaction.

Oblivious, she moved back before he made contact. ”You're very bruised.” She checked his bandage to a.s.sure herself of his comfort. ”Are you able to proceed with this?”

For a moment, he wondered if she were jesting. Then she peered at him, all earnest inquiry, and he managed a simple, ”Aye.”

”That's what Philippa said you would say. She said a man could be halfway to heaven and be called back by the promise of a nature romp.” She sighed as if his irresponsibility weighed on her. ”I don't want you to feel you must swive me, for there is always the morrow.”

How many tomorrows? he wanted to ask. Somehow, he didn't think this was about his suit of marriage. Something told him she wouldn't have changed her mind about her requirements or his inadequacies. But she'd decided he was good enough to bed, and if he performed successfully, those tomorrows could stretch through the rest of their lives. The lady was ripe and willing, and the strategy and skill of a legendary mercenary resided within his breast. A smile curved his lips. He would succeed.

She sat on her heels before him like a supplicant before her lord, and she stared at his body as if deciding how to best achieve her goal. ”Philippa knew you were coming in to me?” he asked.

”She advised it.”

He nodded slowly. ”Did Philippa advise you on your attire?”

Alisoun glanced down at herself. ”She was wrong, wasn't she? I wanted to wear something a little grander. Something made of velvet and trimmed in lace. But she insisted that simple was best-” Alisoun came to her knees and spread her arms wide, ”-and look at me. I'm not attractive at all.”

The worn linen clung to her hips, and he saw the shape of her thighs and the triangle of color between muted by the gauze above it. A simple bow gathered the material at the neck and held it closed and he could have sworn he saw one end of the ribbon waving to him, begging him to grasp it and pull it free.

He had to clear his throat before he spoke. ”Philippa is a wise woman.”

Slowly she lowered her arms to her sides. ”You like this?”

He corrected her. ”I like what's under it.”

She almost smiled. Then, rather briskly, she said, ”Well, let's get on with it. What would you like me to do first?”

If she'd been more certain of herself, he would have burst out laughing. But beneath that superficial confidence, he sensed a virgin's self-doubt. ”I always like to start with just some cuddling.”

”Cuddling?”

He patted his chest. ”Lay your head here and rest.”

”I didn't come in here to sleep!”

He could be stubborn, too. ”That's the way I like it.”

”As you wish.” She hovered over him. ”But I wasn't expecting this.”

She didn't seem to be settling. Like a bird sneaking up on a meal, she almost touched him with her hand, then s.n.a.t.c.hed it back. She sat down beside him, then skittered away. She'd been able to make contact to adjust his bandage, but not in an affectionate display. Finally, he had to ask. ”What were you expecting?”

”Philippa said men were always in a hurry.”

He snapped, ”Then I suppose Philippa never bedded me.”

”Actually, I suppose Philippa doesn't know too much.”

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