Page 37

“Of course.” He reached down within the cart and brought forth a stuffed satchel.

“We could eat right here,” she said, looking about the grass clearing.

He smiled knowingly. “I suggest beneath the trees, by the stream. We’ll be thirsty. And we wouldn’t want your fair skin to redden. You unpack the satchel, and I’ll see to the horse.”

Elizabeth gritted her teeth and turned away from him, striding toward the water.

“You look as if you’re marching off to battle,” he called, amusement in his voice.

She ignored him. It was cooler back beneath the trees. The stream flowed over a tumble of rocks, then wound down a hillside away from them. Wildflowers peeked from beneath ferns and from within the stand of trees. It was a peaceful place, and she felt her anger cooling, her dismay being replaced by resolve. They would eat and leave. There were still plenty of hours of daylight left for the journey home.

Adalia had thought of everything when she packed the satchel. There was a cloth to sit upon, and Elizabeth spread it wide and knelt down. She set out a round loaf of bread, cheese, almonds, and strawberries. There were two horns with ale in them. Simple fare, but she found her mouth watering as she looked at the feast.

She heard Sir John’s uneven gait and looked up in time to see him coming toward her. She almost thought she saw resolve on his face, but then he was smiling, and she forgot the strange thought.

“You set a fine blanket, Anne,” he said, as he dropped his crutch.

He bent forward, braced his hands on the cloth, then turned and seated himself right beside her, rather than across the cloth, where she’d intended. Nothing about this day was going as she’d planned, and she feared it could only get worse.

“Almonds?” he said, surprised. “Your cook thinks highly of you to spare such a luxury.”

She nodded, hiding a wince. Perhaps that had been foolish of Adalia. She broke apart the bread and handed him a piece, only to see that her fingers were trembling.

He noticed it, too, for his smile faded, and he glanced up at her. “Anne? Is there something you fear, some cause for nervousness? Tell me it is not because of me.”

“Of course not,” she scoffed, keeping her hands busy by ripping the bread into even smaller pieces. “I have not been away from my mistress since she was held captive, and I worry what is going on at Alderley.”

“If it eases your mind, I told Philip to pay attention to the tower as much as possible. He’s already befriending the soldiers, so I’m sure he’ll be able to prevent anything from happening.”

“But…why would he form friendships, and then risk that to antagonize the soldiers?”

Sir John shrugged, and seemed to attack a piece of cheese with too much eagerness.

“Is he doing this…for my lady?” she asked softly.

“Until both your bailiff and I are recovered, Philip and I will remain at Castle Alderley. It only makes sense to help where we can.” Then his blue eyes focused on her. “Because your mistress only has you to help her. Bannaster seems determined to keep her alone and desperate.”

She nodded, shredding a piece of bread in her fingers. “And did you find another way to help?” she blurted out.

He stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Someone lowered a basket of food to the window from the top of the tower.”

Wearing a frown, he said, “It was not me, nor my clerk.”

She was almost disappointed, because at least if it was him, she would have known who their benefactor was. But now…

“You look so sad,” he murmured.

When she glanced up, he dropped back on one elbow, his head a little below hers.

And too close.

He reached up, and she froze in shock as he touched her cheek, letting his fingers skim it gently. Instead of feeling soothed, it ignited a fire beneath her skin, as if it burned where he touched, but not with pain. Something more focused and dangerous. She shuddered, her breath caught on a gasp. His gaze suddenly focused with clarity on her as he cupped her cheek, cradling it for a moment. His skin was so warm against hers, his palm rough, but that somehow made him more attractive to her.

With just the pressure of his fingers sliding onto her neck, he slowly pulled her forward, her face over his, until she was forced to brace her hand on his chest or fall into him. Her world had narrowed until it was only him—his blue eyes, his parted lips, his hand holding her in place. Her resistance was token, fleeting, and then gone. She wanted to know how this felt, to be desired as a woman. It was a heady, strange, intoxicating feeling.

She closed her eyes as their lips touched. She kissed him gently, tasting strawberries and a heat that was all his. His lips were surprisingly soft, surprisingly in command, moving against hers in a way that made her insides seem to heat and melt and coalesce into something new. His hand on her neck held her in place, yet she did not resent the control; indeed, it was thrilling and wicked, allowing her to feel seduced.