Page 22 of An Earl for the Archeress

He smiled. “You did, too. And it worked. I was downright pissed and wanted only to smash John’s face in, snatch you away from him, and seat you beside me where I had intended to dine with you in the first place.”

The remark rendered her speechless. So he had intended to place her beside himself. So she had made him jealous. At her silence, Robert stood, then walked around the flame toward her, blanket in hand. Mariel bit her lip and dropped her gaze. She shrank back. She had not shied from a man since that final day before she had left home, when her father had threatened to punish her for her disobedience. Why she did so now, she couldn’t say, for there was nothing threatening about Robert’s approach. Seductive, mayhap…definitely. But not threatening.

He arrived at her side and squatted so he looked at eye level, his thighs spread wide as he settled on his knees. Dropping loose the blanket, he laid it carefully around her shoulders. Then he lifted her chin with his finger like he had the first day they met.

“You’re a hard one to win over,” he murmured, brushing the loose strands of her braid behind her ears. She shivered. “I wish you would at least give me a chance.”

“A chance for what?” she whispered.

“I think you know that answer,” he replied. “To get to know you. I’m not your adversary. I’m not a hard man. I like women, but I don’t respect them for throwing themselves at me. You haven’t done that.”

“But why me?” she whispered. “Of all the women you can pick from, you pick me—skinny, dressed as a common lad with nary a notion of femininity, no rouge to darken my lips, no gowns to make me fuller…”

She swallowed the cursed vulnerability that threatened to weaken her. She needed the barbs she wrapped herself within, needed to protect the desperation kept locked in her heart for fear of it weakening her. She couldn’t allow him to look at her as he was, with desire, with compassion, with pity. She needed her old trousers and quiver of arrows to keep a man from loving her, because men never lasted. They were like her father, or they loved and left. She was on her own, and her heart couldn’t take the pain of caring for someone who would let her down.

He caressed back the tendrils of hair hanging loose around her face, whimsical and free, smoothed her skin with his fingertips. She watched his hazel gaze dip from her eyes to her lips, her jaw, following the path his fingers blazed across her skin. His gaze was sincere, and his touch, oh-so-gentle. How was it possible to feel weak in the knees when she was not even standing, to feel her heart race like a horse galloping through the woods, even though she sat at rest? In that moment, her heart betrayed her. She wished he would kiss her again. There was no denying it anymore.

…

Her eyes, so very green, her lips, so lush and kissable, her delicate jawline and classical nose, her slender legs, curved hips, a bosom that boasted good health, all of it captured Robert’s attention. But not more than the urge he felt to envelop her in his hold, to make promises and assurances he knew he couldn’t keep. God, but she was a beauty, even bundled within her coat of arms protecting her heart. And there was no mistaking it: she might comport herself with bravado, but she was vulnerable. Only a rogue would take advantage of it for his own gratification, and he was most definitely not the rogue she thought him to be.

He thought of the ribbon that still sat against his chest within his coat. If it was hers, it held a special meaning and had once been beautiful. Whatever the reason for keeping it, despite its faded state, it must have reminded her of a time when beauty had mattered.

And her aim. She had a talent he wished he could convince her was worth employing. He also understood now why she had become so good at vanishing, now that he knew more about her. If she took up residence anywhere, if he employed her, her father would sooner or later learn of a lady archer residing at his home and know it was her. The sheriff would come for her and the law would be on his side. Robert would have to let her go because the only way he would be able to intervene on her behalf was if she were his wife. And didn’t Richard Plantagenet’s court already know he was reluctant to get to the altar?

But when he looked at Mariel, he saw someone who needed him yet would never chase or beg him, who wanted his affection but would never lower herself to competing with others, who was strong and independent but deep down was desperate to belong somewhere, perhaps to someone, which made her entirely too enticing to pass up. If he wanted not only her kisses, but also her heart, she would challenge him, and instead of handing herself over on a platter for him to pick from, the idea of having to win her trust and affection was more than appealing.

“Because you’re the most beautiful one of them all.”

She swallowed, clearly confused by his statement. His fingertips continued to caress paths promising affection on her cheekbones.

“Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you,” he whispered. “Tell me and mean it.”

Her mouth opened but no answer came out. Her pulse was thumping rapidly at her throat, and for a moment, her reaction piqued his curiosity. It was the reaction of a lovesick virgin losing her heart. ’Twas preposterous, for she had made it clear she knew well the attentions of a man’s body, and he had indeed seen her encouraging John’s lust only hours earlier. He gazed into her mossy eyes, searching for her response.

Finally, the honest desire vanished from her face. She lifted her chin in that defiant way he was growing to like and looked him straight in the eyes. “Telling you such would be a bold lie.”

His lips split into a relieved smile. “I knew it.” His fingers kept retracing their caress across her cheeks. “All thorns and prickles…”

His mouth descended to hers, softly, brushing across them. Excitement was not an accurate description. What he was feeling was much more complex. He was certain he had never beheld lips so sweet, for unlike their kisses before, she was an active participant now, gently pecking his lips in return, acquainting herself in a curious yet tentative manner to the feel of his mouth. He was inclined to allow her explorations.

The fire popped softly, nighttime shadows danced on the tree trunks near them, and he cradled her cheeks in his hands, his fingers splaying into her hair. He heard a soft moan escape her, as if she hungered and he satisfied the appetite. It did nothing but stoke his excitement and his thumb teased her chin, enticing her to open for him. As soon as she did, his pulse galloped away from him.

…

Mariel knew this kiss was going to be different from the others. Yet she was not prepared for his honest sensuality. Or the shiver of gooseflesh that spiked up her back. Or the moan that escaped her throat entirely of its own accord. He begged entry, and she opened her mouth. It would have opened with or without her consent, for she wanted the sweet taste of his kiss to progress.

She suddenly wondered at everything about him. What did he look like bare-chested? Did he have ribbed muscles across his stomach? Toned arms as tanned as his face from the sunlight? Hair dusted upon his pectorals and navel? What did those jewels behind his codpiece feel like? The thought, despite no longer being innocent to the ways of men, still scandalized her. Yet she couldn’t help thinking it. Would he be well-endowed?

And had he been serious? She was more beautiful than the other women who paraded their wares in front of him? Had he not noticed the rags she wore? Had he not noticed she wore neither makeup nor fixed her hair properly? Surely he was blind or she was a fool, allowing him to dominate her now, only to leave her behind when they reached his borders. And he had indeed managed to get the blanket around her after all. And her teeth! She had not cleaned them since waking that morn. Heavens, she thought, but she had an obsession with cleaning her teeth. What if she tasted awful?

Yet his tongue acquainting itself with hers didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. In fact, it seemed like he was drinking her in, in liberal delves. And he had not taken care to ensure the cleanest mouth right before kissing her, either. He tasted of the salted meat he had been eating minutes ago, wine from the flask in his saddle bag, mixed with the flavor that was uniquely his. She wanted to keep tasting him. His tongue, caressing hers, offered ample opportunity.

“Mariel,” he whispered as he took a breath, resting his forehead to hers. “Your lips are so sweet…I knew there was a rose hidden in your thorns.”

He started kissing her again, delving more deeply, sliding his hands around her waist, his arms pulling her up to her knees so she pressed against him, chest to chest. Her breath caught, and by the way she could feel him smile against her mouth, she knew he heard it.

“My beauty, you are too tempting.”