Surprised, Lily saw repentance in his eyes, but a certain arrogance, too. “Do you mean you are sorry for taking me to your bed, or sorry for the way in which it happened?”
“You were a maid.”
“I was widowed, so how could you know I was still a maid?”
“I should have known it.” His look was wry.
“Truth to tell, Lily, I was too hot for you even then. And no, I am not sorry for taking you to my bed, only sorry that it was done so rashly.”
“Nay,” she whispered, reaching out to rest her hand lightly against his thigh. “There was a fire between us, and neither of us could have doused it in any other manner.”
He looked down at her hand, and Lily felt his already hard muscles tense. She had spoken in the past tense but they both knew the fire had not been doused. The flames were as bright as ever.
“What will happen when we reach . . . when I am home?” she asked softly, and then wondered why she asked. She knew what would happen.
Radulf would end it. But she wanted to pretend a little longer, fool herself that she really was Edwin of Rennoc’s daughter, and Radulf was taking her home. Then she could ask herself if his desire was strong enough for him to consider keeping her by him. Or would he visit her, when his duties permitted, riding swiftly to Rennoc to bed her and leaving an hour later?
Lily shivered. She did not want that. If she were to complete her fantasy as she really wished, then Radulf would be with her always.
But that was madness. An impossibility. A child might believe in such things, but Lily was no child. She desired Radulf, yes, but she must not give in to it, for if she did he would destroy her.
“What will happen when we reach Rennoc?”
Radulf repeated her question, and answered it. “I know not, Lily.”
“My lord!”
Radulf turned as Jervois pulled his mount to a rattling halt. The animal looked as if it had been ridden hard, and the young captain reined in closely beside Radulf to murmur his news. The two men spoke a moment, their expressions serious.
Lily watched them curiously.
Radulf was now gazing between his horse’s ears, frowning, deep in his own thoughts. Jervois had dropped back. When Radulf had still not spoken after several minutes, Lily ventured curiously,
“Something concerns you, my lord?”
Radulf shot her an impenetrable look. “There is always a need for concern, Lily. And caution. In all things.”
A tingle ran down her spine. Was he giving her a warning? He was suddenly so distant. What had Jervois told him?
Lily twisted around to look at the other man, but his face was also closed, no more readable than Radulf’s. Lily turned in time to see Radulf’s broad back as he spurred his horse into a gallop, riding up the line to the front of the column. As if by some prearranged signal, Jervois moved to take his place.
“Has something happened?” Lily asked him, not expecting a proper answer. “You have been away.” She had noticed Jervois’s absence since yesterday but had not thought to ask where he was— Would they have told her anyway?
“My lady?” Jervois raised his blond eyebrows in surprise. “I have been . . . solving a puzzle, but now everything is going as planned.”
“You are not afraid of attack?”
Jervois considered her. “It would be foolish indeed to attack such a well-prepared band of men, lady.”
“Nevertheless, Lord Radulf does not relax his vigilance?”
Jervois smiled, the tension smoothing from his face until he looked suddenly very young. Almost as young as Lily herself. “No, lady, he does not relax. That is what makes him such a good soldier. He trusts nothing and no one.”
Another warning?
Lily had come to believe suspicion was part of Radulf’s nature, and not just in the execution of his duties. Radulf was not a man who gave of himself easily; he guarded his emotions as closely as he guarded her.
And yet he had made love to her as if he were starving.
