He arched a brow. “Do you often steal from the baron?”
Anna shook her head. “Not since the new burn. There was a time when there was more traffic upon the road to Haynesdale, and a passing merchant could be relieved of his coin or his provisions without much trouble. When there were fewer of us in the forest, sometimes one would ride to Carlisle on a stolen steed and buy more provisions with that coin.” She shook her head. “But two years ago, so many more came to us. At the same time, far fewer travel to Haynesdale.”
“You must have thought we offered salvation.”
“I thought that fat saddlebag might contain the most food.”
Bartholomew’s gaze was knowing. “And Percy paused to peek, because he was hungry, and so he was both disappointed by his prize and caught.”
Anna nodded.
“Was he caught here?”
Anna shook her head. “Nay. It is undisturbed. His curiosity must have compelled him to look sooner.” She smiled. “He is a curious boy.”
“He is that.” Bartholomew took a step closer to her. She gripped the candle, her valor slipping away now that the prospect of intimacy was upon her. “And so all went awry with our arrival.” He paused directly before her, his gaze searching.
“For your company as well,” she had to point out.
He smiled a little. “And yet, I cannot regret our arrival at Haynesdale.” He reached out with a fingertip and touched her cheek, his light caress sending a shiver through her. “Why did you bring me here, Anna?” he asked quietly.
“Because I would challenge you to make me moan.”
Bartholomew’s smile flashed in his surprise. “You are a bold maiden,” he said, and that admiration filled his tone.
She was no maiden, but when she opened her mouth to tell him as much, the weight of his finger fell upon her lips. His gaze was sober and locked with hers. “I know,” he continued with heat. “That you have known unkindness from men.”
Anna’s heart fluttered.
“And I would vow to you not only that I will not injure you, but that you can halt me with a single word, at any time.”
Her mouth went dry. She felt warm and flustered, yet knew that her choice was utterly right. She claimed his hand and lifted his finger away from her lips, pausing to kiss it. “I know,” she whispered. “You defy my every expectation of French knights, and that is why I have brought you here.” She licked her lips. “Bartholomew,” she added, hearing a reverence in her own tone.
He smiled and stepped closer, framing her face in his hands. He bent, studying her for a long moment, then captured her lips beneath his own. His was a sweet hot kiss, filled with passion, yet requesting her participation, not demanding it.
That he asked, even after her invitation, was all the evidence Anna needed that she had chosen aright. She dared to put her arms around his neck to draw him closer and rose to her toes, surrendering completely to his touch.
*
Bartholomew knew he had to take matters slowly. Though Anna gave every appearance of being her usual fearless self, he could feel the tremor within her. It betrayed the uncertainty she would clearly prefer to hide. He moved slowly, ensuring that her pleasure was served first.
She seemed to know that he was determined to see her pleased, and that appeared to feed her confidence. Her kiss became bolder the longer they embraced. He opened his mouth to her and she mimicked him, her tongue daring to tangle with his own. She pressed against him in silent demand, wanting more of what he gave, and Bartholomew caught her close.
She was intoxicating, her passion and fire heating him to his marrow. He wanted her as he had never wanted a woman before. His fingers were untying the laces of her kirtle before he realized what he was doing, then he halted and stepped back. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips reddened from his kiss, but her eyes widened in uncertainty. “What is amiss?”
He surveyed them both and grimaced. “Too much garb.”
She laughed in surprise, then blushed. “You might fix that.”
“Nay, I would have you do it.” He lifted his hands and smiled at her, hoping to reassure her that she was in control of their union.
Her cheeks burned brighter, but as he had anticipated, she did not delay in taking his dare. She unbuckled his belt and set it aside with care, her respect for his weapons nigh as great as his own. “I still cannot believe you carry a fragment of the true cross,” she whispered, her fingertips sliding over the pommel of his sword. “Your friend must be affluent.”
“He is generous, to be sure.”
“You have known him long?”
“Most of my life. He took me into his care when I was younger than Percy, and taught me all I know of life.”
