Page 23 of An Earl for the Archeress

He pulled her tightly against him, settling back on his haunches, his knees still splayed, pulling her knees around his waist so they sat flush and her most intimate parts rested snugly against his codpiece. He simply held her and rested his chin upon her shoulder. She could tell, resting against him as she was, that she had his full attention, and she warred with pushing relations further, for his gentle pulse promised ecstasy. She cinched her arms around his neck. He would be an amazing lover. They would make a flawless fit. She knew right then that she would feel perfection lying in his arms as he brought them both to their moment of ecstasy.

“We should go to bed for the night,” she whispered, her meager voice of reason giving her clarity. Taking it further with Robert would feel wonderful for a night, but she could already tell it would lead to a deeper attachment on her part and would hurt far more when she departed his borders. “Before we go too far.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, his fingers gripping her hair as if to deny he had just agreed to anything of the sort. “I’ll tend to the horses.” He didn’t let go right away, but finally he relinquished his grip. She rose reluctantly, putting distance between them. She gathered up her supplies and hastened toward the brook. For the first time in eight months, Mariel’s “liberating” trousers made her feel restricted. She wanted to lie by the campfire in a finely woven chemise, with her hair unbound and rosewater dabbed upon her neck so that she might feel as beautiful as Robert seemed to think. And though Robert Huntington thought her intriguing, she didn’t want to be a novelty to him. She wanted to shed her filthy trousers and tunic in sore need of restitching and don a gown again. She wanted to be recognized as a beautiful woman, without fear of her father finding her.

Untucking her tunic so that it billowed below her rear, and removing her leather boots, she used the time that Robert was busy with the animals to freshen her teeth and wash her face. Then she loosened her corset and twisted inside of the tunic until she had removed the garment. Relief rippled over her and her breasts relaxed, grateful for the breathing room.

Yet relief was short-lived. She looked down at her feet with dismay, covered in old stockings that had once been white. The fabric was holey enough to be a saintly relic. She peeled them off, too, and stuffed them down in her boots so Robert wouldn’t see.

Laying out her bedroll and pulling forth a saddle pack to use as a pillow, she unbound her hair and lay down, pulling Robert’s blanket over her. Working her fingers through the tangles, her hair soon sat in a pool of tresses around her head. She tucked his blanket under her chin and rolled on her side to face the fire. The fabric filled her senses, the smell a combination of soap made with heather, leather, and his unique scent.

As she inhaled again, Robert returned through the trees, and by the look of his washed face and untucked tunic, he, too, had taken care of his personal freshening. He dropped his jerkin upon his saddle packs, but to her surprise, he kept walking around the flame until he stood over her. She rolled on her back and looked up as he glanced down at her, pulling loose the fastening of his belt.

“What are you doing?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

“Preparing to go to sleep,” he replied.

“Here?”

“You have all the blankets,” he countered, the corner of his mouth tilting up, causing his stubbly cheek to dimple on one side. “I don’t want to catch a chill, either.”

“I’m sure that’s precisely what you’re worried about.” She rolled her eyes and shifted back to face the fire.

“You roll your eyes heavenward often, woman,” he teased as he pulled the end of the blanket up and slid underneath, propping his hands under his head to stare up at the trees. “I wonder if God has taken notice yet.”

“You are so humorous, I was too distracted to laugh.” Mariel rolled her eyes again, scowling when she realized what she was doing.

Robert chuckled, making himself comfortable. Mariel grew rigid beside him. Neither of them spoke again. She felt his warmth at her back, smelled his smell, felt the slight lifts and drops of the blanket as his chest expanded with each breath. His closeness sent a tingle of awareness across her skin, settling right in her belly. Lord, but she was wildly attracted to this man. What was he thinking? Was he looking at her? Was he as attracted to her or merely attracted because her presence was convenient? He must have been pondering her, too, since he was so quiet… Either that or he slept. ’Twould be like a man to just fall asleep when a woman’s mind was running wild.

Except, he finally broke the silence. “I don’t know you well, and I can’t say I understand you, but I consider you a friend.”

Friend? Lovely. He may as well have stated, I’ve thought it over and I’ve decided that a woman who cannot even keep her teeth freshened is not the woman for me.

“’Twill take another night before we arrive at the border of my lands at the junction to the high road to London. I’ll be honest, that in that time, I hope to persuade you to return to Huntington instead. The idea of a woman facing the dangers of the world alone doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Would you be able to protect me from Crawford?”

A long pause ensued, so long she wondered if he had truly fallen asleep now.

“I wish I could,” he finally replied.

His words, for some reason, gouged her. It wasn’t as if she expected him to declare his unwavering, eternal love to her. She knew that he couldn’t protect her from her father. But she heard what his words really meant, a verification of the truth. He couldn’t protect her. No one could.

Chapter Seven

Mariel woke to a dim morning, the sun having yet to rise above the horizon and shoot slats of light through the branches. She was comfortable, warm, and could not remember such peaceful sleep in a long time. Which was odd, because sleeping on the ground usually left her stiff and sore, even after all these months. She snuggled further against the warmth and adjusted her grip on the man beside her.

Wait a moment. The haze of sleep dissipated. She opened her eyes fully and could see, could feel, Robert’s chest rising and falling under her cheek. His arm was securely around her, her head resting on the crook of his shoulder with her cheek upon his heart. Her head popped up and she looked up at him, noticing he was fully awake as well. Gazing down his chest at her, he kept his arm snugly around her.

“Good morn, Lady,” he murmured, his voice scratchy from lack of use. Confusion sparked in her eyes. “We seem to have joined together in our sleep. I didn’t have the heart to jostle you off. ’Twas a pleasant favor to awaken like this.”

Her nerves thrummed alert. Lying against him felt too right. It was a pleasant favor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, starting to sit up, except Robert’s arm did not let go.

“Apologizing would indicate you did something wrong. Which you didn’t. ’Twas sweet.”

She looked into his hazel eyes, his other arm propped under his head, his wavy hair mussed from sleep, his stubble thicker than the night before. He smiled, a gentle upturn of his mouth, and finally let his arm drop from around her, using the same hand to strum through her curtain of hair as if it were the strings of a harp. Mariel felt her face reddening. It was so personal, the simple act, their closeness. It felt like a special moment, private as it was, as if they had spent the night making wild love and awakened comfortable with each other’s touch. Something in her heart shifted and she cursed inwardly, pushing to her feet.