She sighed and shifted uneasily in her saddle.
How could she have allowed the Norman into her blood? It was madness to want such a man! It was not safe to want any man. Lily’s beloved father had died making war. Her childhood sweetheart had betrayed her for his own ambition. In her albeit limited experience, she had found men such as Radulf were not to be relied upon. Not to be trusted. Certainly she had never meant to get this close to one of them.
Especially not an enemy!
Radulf was a man of pride and honor, a Norman lord sworn to obey his king. Yet he was also a man of contrasts, light and dark, much more complex than the tales about him had led her to believe. Intellectually and emotionally, Lily found the combination of strength and vulnerability, of mastery and humor, irresistible. Physically, her body craved his as parched ground craved water.
She was caught in a terrible bind. She was tied by the fiery ropes of desire to a man who, if he knew her true identity, would be required to hand her over to his king. Already two days had passed, and with each hour that crept by, they drew closer to Rennoc. And to discovery.
Radulf had slowed their pace after the first day.
They dawdled, stopping often, enjoying the fine weather. When Lily asked Radulf why he was in no hurry to reach Rennoc, he laughed and bent closer, his warm breath sending tingles over her skin.
“Need you ask, lady? Or do you look for flattery?”
Lily lifted her chin proudly. “If I did not need to ask, my lord, I would not.”
His finger brushed her cheek. Her pride seemed to amuse him. “ ’Tis you who keeps me from my duty, mignonne.”
Lily’s gray eyes had searched his, discovering the truth of what he said. Pleasure warmed her.
Her lips curved into a teasing smile, but her words contained more than a hint of tartness.
“And how many days have you set aside for this distraction, my lord? And will you put me from your mind when they are passed?”
They were questions Radulf had been asking himself, and still he did not know the answers.
“That depends, Lily,” he murmured, and made himself return her smile. “You are pensive today.”
Lily turned away, watching a hawk, solitary above a rocky crag. “I am thinking of Rennoc,” she said.
He rode beside her in silence, his eyes on the perfection of her profile, the soft wisps of fair hair that had escaped their braid to dance about her face. She was like no other woman he had ever known. Such beauty should mean a certain vanity, an expectation of men’s besottedness, but Lily acted as if she was unaware of her looks. There was no coyness about her, nothing flirtatious.
If he had met her anywhere else but hiding in Grimswade church, Radulf would have been tempted to trust her. But the circumstances of their meeting and his instant attraction, as well as his past experience, made him suspicious and wary. It was only when they lay together that he was able to abandon such suspicions.
“Tell me of your father.”
The suddenness of his question surprised Lily, but she didn’t let it show. The hawk had dived, vanishing behind some scrubby trees, but she kept watch for its return.
“Edwin of Rennoc is kind but firm, a good father and a good vassal.”
“And are you a good daughter?”
Lily smiled. “Of course.”
“Obedient?”
“Yes.”
“Loving?”
“Yes.”
“Truthful?”
Lily glanced at him, still smiling. “Why do you question me, my lord? Do you intend listing my shortcomings to him?”
Radulf frowned. “I would not dare, lady. It is you who should list my shortcomings. I have treated you with far less honor than you deserve.”
