His Lady Fair

Chapter Seven

Typically, Henric Tournay had seen to all the details for the day’s hunt. There was nothing left for Nicholas to do but ruminate over the letter he’d received on his arrival at Kirkham, regarding Sterlyng’s alleged treason.

Thinking of the methods he would employ in his investigation of Sterlyng, Nick took a leisurely stroll back to the keep and circled ’round toward the garden in back, where he and Edmund used to play as children.

The gardeners had done their work well, for the flower beds were raked out, and there were new, young shoots just beginning to poke through the winter-ravaged ground. ’Twas difficult for Nicholas to understand how anything could grow after the past winter, which had been uncharacteristically harsh, but he supposed that was life. It always seemed to renew itself.

He followed the footpath through the squat fruit trees with their gnarled branches covered with early buds, and headed for the secret part of the garden where he and Edmund used to hide from their tutor. Though not quite a maze, it was a winding path, and the deeper one followed it into the garden, the farther away from the world it seemed.

He had nearly reached the low wall where the vines grew thick when he heard a low, feminine voice speaking.

“Come down, you fierce little beast!”

Vaguely, Nicholas recalled similar words being spoken to him years before.

He grinned and walked on, following the cooing voice, and stopped when he rounded a set of tall evergreens. Lady Maria stood on her toes, trying to coax a kitten out of the crotch of a tree.

Regrettably, she was quite properly dressed this morning, in a deep blue velvet gown with long, flowing sleeves and a high neckline that would have pleased a nun. Her head was covered, as well, though her golden tresses were partially visible through the headpiece and veil.

He wondered how she’d managed to walk all this way unaided.

Unless her ankle was better…?

“Come now, poor kitty,” she said, unaware of Nicholas’s quiet approach behind her. She raised one hand invitingly toward the tree, and Nick hoped the kitten wouldn’t give her a nasty scratch. “I do not want you to fall. Where is your mama?”

The kitten finally relented and moved tentatively, stretching its paws and taking one step toward Maria. She reached up and allowed the kitten to come to her. When it was close enough, Maria took it gently in her hands and cuddled it to her breast.

Nicholas stopped to observe the sensuous stroking of Maria’s small hands over the tawny fur of the cat. A stab of desire, as fierce as any he’d ever known, shot through him as he watched.

He regained some semblance of self-possession and approached her, taking care not to startle her.

“I daresay I wouldn’t mind your hands doing that to me, my lady fair,” he said. To his delight, she blushed sweetly and allowed the kitten to drop to the ground and scamper away. Then she reached awkwardly for the crutch that was propped against the tree.

“My lord,” she said. “You should not say such things.”

“No?” he asked, moving closer. He lifted her chin with one finger and looked into her eyes. “Your little friend shed his fur all over you.” Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he gently began to brush away the cat hair from the velvet bodice.

He knew he was out of order, touching her this way, but when she trembled at his touch, he could not seem to help himself. He did not want to help himself.

Again he was unsure of her reaction to him, though he remembered how she’d felt against him during the night. Soft. Lush. Inviting. His palms itched to have her naked beneath them again, with her breasts tightening in response to his caress.

His body screamed with the urgency to touch her, and he wanted her more in that moment than he could remember ever wanting anyone.

She suddenly moved her crutch and stepped away, breaking all physical contact with him. She turned and surveyed the area between herself and the garden wall.

“This part of the garden is unusual,” Ria said once she was able to trust her voice. It had never occurred to her that Lord Kirkham would be out wandering the garden while he had so many guests to attend to. And somehow he’d done it again—managed to disconcert her with his eyes, and a mere brush of his hand. “I’ve never seen vines that grow so thick….”

Nicholas cleared his throat. “My brother and I used to hide here,” he said as he approached her again. He looked dark and cross, and more dangerous than ever. Maria could not keep herself from envisioning his naked chest, broad and muscular, with its spattering of dark hair and flat brown nipples. She hoped he did not notice her unease.

“We had a particularly nasty tutor,” he continued, his voice low and intimate, “who liked nothing better than to thrash us whenever we slipped away from our lessons.”

“And your parents allowed this thrashing?”

He shrugged. “I suppose your parents coddled you?”

Maria averted her eyes so he would not be able to read the truth in them. “Of course.”

She jumped a bit when he lifted her locket from its resting place against her breast.

“This is an interesting piece,” he remarked, gazing intently into her eyes again. The back of his hand rested against her heart, and Maria was certain he could feel it racing. “What secrets does it hold?”

“None of any interest to you, my lord,” Ria said, whisking it out of his hand and moving away. “’Twas my mother’s.” She knew she should not be alone with him here in the garden, since he’d proved himself anything but trustworthy. She could not trust herself when she was alone with him, either.

“Where did you get the crutch?” he asked as he followed.

“Aggie…your maid gave it to me,” Maria replied. “Her younger brother is lame and he outgrew this crutch.”

“It looks awkward,” Nicholas said. “Take my arm instead.”

“This will do, my lord,” Maria said. She did not want to touch him, nor could she allow him to touch her again. The experience was all too disturbing.

She only wanted her ankle to heal enough for her to leave Kirkham and head for Rockbury. The sooner she knew whether or not she was Maria Burton, the better.

“Have you broken your fast?” he asked, taking the crutch from her anyway, and then tucking her arm in his.

Maria did not know how to protest this familiarity and still maintain her semblance of a noble demeanor. She let it go, and hobbled alongside him. “Nay, my lord.”

“Then you will do so with me,” he said.

“But I—”

“No one will be up and about for hours,” he said. “’Twill give us an opportunity to become better acquainted.”

“I thought we became rather more acquainted than we should last night, my lord,” Maria said, then wished she had bitten her tongue. Oh, why had she said such a thing?

“Nowhere near as well acquainted as we will be, my lady,” he said, clearly amused by her discomfiture.

His remark caused a slight hitch in her step, but Maria could think of no retort. She kept silent as she limped beside him. She could feel the warmth of his upper arm against the side of her breast, even though she’d worn a heavy velvet gown.

She pulled away slightly and walked on, ignoring the vaguely devilish smile that quirked Lord Kirkham’s lips.

They entered the keep through a wooden door that opened into the gardens, and went into the richly appointed room where Henric Tournay had bound her ankle the night before. Sir Gyles was there ahead of them, looking big and burly in his gray hauberk with his sword sheathed at his side.

“Good morn, my lord,” he said, then turned to give a slight bow to Maria. “My lady.”

All this deference was so strange. Ria—nay, Maria, as she had to think of herself—did not know how she would ever become used to it.

Nicholas ushered her to a soft chair near a large oaken desk. A fire flickered cozily in the fireplace, making the room warm and comfortable. “You will rest more easily here than in the great hall,” he said. “’Tis cavernous and cold when there are only a few occupants.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said warily. Lord Kirkham’s eyes raked over her appreciatively, and Maria felt less than covered by the modest gown she’d chosen to wear. She was glad of Sir Gyles’s presence, but caught a disapproving look in his eye before he had a chance to mask it. She wondered if he disapproved of her or of something Lord Kirkham had done.

Uneasy with both men, Maria sank back in the chair and closed her fingers around the locket, which hung from its long chain about her neck.

“Gyles,” Nicholas said as he sat down at the massive desk. Maria watched him take a sheet of clean vellum, then dip a tapered quill into ink. He filled the page with a thick, bold script. “I should like you to take a few men and ride to London with this message.” He remained silent until he finished writing his missive, sanded it, then folded and sealed it. He handed it to Sir Gyles.

Maria’s eyes followed Lord Kirkham’s hands, strong and powerful, their backs dusted with dark hair. Hands that had touched her more intimately than they should.

“Shall I await a reply?” Gyles asked.

“Nay, ’twill not be necessary,” Nicholas replied as Gyles turned to leave. “And you need not hurry back to Kirkham. Return at your leisure.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“By the way, Gyles…my lady has not yet broken her fast. Nor have I.” Nicholas glanced at Maria, and she felt his smoldering look all the way to her toes. “Before you leave, send a footman to the kitchen for a meal…to be served here.”

“Aye, my lord,” Gyles said as he bowed again to Maria and left the chamber.

Lord Kirkham stood and came around to Maria’s side of the desk. “So, the ankle is still quite sore today?”

She nodded ruefully. “I had hoped to be on my way this morn.”

Nicholas leaned back against his desk and crossed his ankles. “And what exactly is your destination, my lady fair?” he asked.

Maria hesitated only an instant. “H-home,” she said, knowing perfectly well that he would next ask specifically where home was. She glanced toward the fire to avoid his gaze.

Lord Kirkham let out a bark of laughter. She glanced up at him and saw bemusement in his eyes. ’Twas a little better than the sarcasm in his tone when he called her his “lady fair.”

“It has been a long while since a woman has intrigued me so,” he said as he knit his brows and shook his head slightly. “If I ask where ‘home’ is, will you answer me honestly?”

“In truth, my lord?” she said haughtily. “No.”

That earned her another bolt of laughter, and Maria bit her lip in consternation. This was not at all how Cecilia would have conducted a conversation with a gentleman at Alderton. Maria’s dauntless cousin would have stood up to the man and said that her destination was not his concern. Then she would have batted her eyes and postured outrageously, dislodging all questions from the poor, unsuspecting suitor’s mind.

The trouble was Maria did not for a moment believe that Lord Nicholas Hawken was poor or unsuspecting. Nor did she believe she possessed the kind of allure that was second nature to Cecilia. Her cousin was tall and willowy, with beautiful sable hair and lovely brown eyes.

“I’ll leave you to your secrets then,” Nicholas said as he pulled a low stool next to her. “You are welcome to stay at Kirkham as long as you wish.”

Maria thought his choice of words strange, but did not dwell on it. She did wonder, however, why he would think she would stay any longer than was necessary for her ankle to heal.

She contained her astonishment when Lord Kirkham crouched down and picked up her injured foot, placing it gently on the stool. He did not take his hands from her leg, but caressed her through the thin wool of her hose.

His attention…his bold touch…unnerved her.

She should not be able to feel his heat so well through her hose, and that heat should not have had the power to make her recall the sensations caused by his hands, his lips, his body, during the previous night.

“My lord…” Maria said, quite breathlessly.

“There does not seem to be any swelling,” Nicholas said, ignoring her alarmed tone, “but…’tis quite bruised?”

She nodded in response.

One of his hands moved up to cradle her calf, and his eyes met hers. He was seducing her with a mere touch of her leg! “Was nothing else injured?”

“N-nay, my lord.”

She’d begun to pull away when Nicholas removed his hand and stood. “Ah, here is the footman with our meal,” he said.

Maria let out the breath she was holding and marveled that Lord Kirkham had been aware of the footman’s arrival long before she herself had noticed anyone else’s presence.

She did not doubt that that was the only reason she’d gotten a reprieve from his attentions.

The footman carried in a tray laden with bread, fruit and mugs of warm cider, which he placed on a low table near Maria.

Lord Kirkham pulled up a chair and sat next to her.

“I hope you are hungry,” he said to her as the footman took his leave.

“Aye,” she replied. “I am. Quite famished.”

And by the expression on his face, Maria felt as though she’d said something entirely improper.

The day’s hunt was successful, although Nicholas did not succeed in learning anything useful about the Duke of Sterlyng. Rumor had it that the duke had a secret heir stashed somewhere, but Nick was uninterested in Sterlyng’s personal affairs. It was the affairs of England that concerned him.

If Sterlyng had any nefarious dealings with the French, he was somehow managing to keep all suspicion away from himself. None of the guests had anything to say about him other than to remark on the folly of searching for his missing offspring after so many years.

Considering Sterlyng’s wealth and status, it was assumed by all the noblemen present that impostors would begin to seep through the woodwork and try to lay claim to the Sterlyng fortune.

And so the discussion went, until all the men returned to the keep for refreshments, then to their chambers to rest before the evening’s entertainments. Nicholas paced the floor of his private study on the main floor of the keep.

’Twas his favorite room, the office, as his father had called it. Here was the collection of books his grandfather had begun decades before, and to which his father and he had added precious tomes throughout the years. There were various Hawken keepsakes stored here, as well, under lock and key. Business was discussed here with Nick’s steward, and ’twas in this chamber that he reviewed important lawsuits brought by the people of the village.

Here, in the office, was where he’d barely reined in his desire for the lovely Lady Maria.

Nicholas did not want to think about the Duke of Sterlyng anymore. He had no interest in trying to wheedle information from his guests while playing the debauched nobleman.

Lady Maria had his full attention.

He gave a moment’s thought to the clothes he’d put at her disposal—clothes that would have belonged to Edmund’s wife, had his brother married Alyce.

Lady Alyce had been a charming girl, the daughter of a neighboring earl. Yet Nicholas could not recall that she had ever looked as well in deep blue as Lady Maria did. Or that Alyce had ever filled out a gown as enticingly. He could not think of Alyce as anything other than the child who’d grown into the young lady Edmund had loved.

Nick certainly could not have imagined Alyce in the wispy gown that had slipped from Maria’s shoulders the night before as he carried her to her bed.

He shuddered with the memory of that moment.

And tried to think of a way to keep his preoccupation with Lady Maria at bay.

Chapter Eight

Aggie placed the last bone hairpin in Maria’s coif and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “I doubt Lord Kirkham has ever seen one as lovely as yourself, my lady,” she said. “’Tis no wonder he wishes to sup with you alone.”

Maria blushed in dismay. “I have no intention of joining Lord Kirkham in the solar, Aggie,” she said. He stirred her too deeply for comfort. ’Twas best she keep away from him for the duration of her stay at Kirkham, which she hoped would not be more than another day.

“But Lady Maria,” Aggie protested, “his lordship specifically requested that—”

“He has important guests here,” Maria interrupted. “There is no need for Lord Kirkham to cater to me….”

Aggie remained silent for once, and Maria appreciated it. She needed to think more about getting to Rock-bury, and less about Nicholas Hawken.

The marquis had deftly turned her over to Sir Roger and Tessa Malloy, Kirkham’s steward and his wife. Maria thought he’d done it to keep her out of the way of his other guests. In truth, she did not mind. Tessa Malloy was a friendly, talkative soul, so much so that Maria did not have to explain herself or her reasons for being at Kirkham. She’d passed the afternoon pleasantly with the older couple, learning about Kirkham and the villages in the district.

She’d also discovered the location of Rockbury.

Her mother’s estate had been mentioned only in passing, but Maria’s casual questioning gained her the information she needed. Rockbury was merely a day’s ride from Kirkham. She should be able to hobble out to the stable and get her horse. And she knew she could ride.

The only question was whether she could mount and dismount. Maria hoped that by morning her ankle would support her.

“I’ll just have Cook prepare a tray for you here in your room, my lady,” Aggie finally said, “if that’s what you prefer.”

“Thank you,” Maria replied. “I do.”

She stood and, supported by her crutch, made her way to the window that overlooked the garden where she and Nicholas had walked that morning. He’d left her soon after their morning meal, and Maria had been grateful for the reprieve. The man never let up with his seductive overtures.

She had nearly succumbed.

“Tell me about Staffordshire, Aggie,” Maria said now. She knew she needed to take the east road from Kirkham to get to Rockbury, but more information about the district would be welcome. She did not ask specifically about Rockbury, preferring to keep her interest in the estate to herself. Since she did not know how her situation would work out there, she was hesitant to mention any of her plans…or hopes.

Eventually, Aggie left Maria alone.

Dusk began to fall, and Maria lit the lamps in her room to ward off the gloom. She was unaccustomed to so much inactivity and found herself growing restless. With her ankle still so tender, she was a virtual prisoner, since she could not walk very far, even with the help of the crutch.

Music began to play in the great hall, and Maria assumed Lord Kirkham would be occupied again, drinking and feasting with his guests. She did not know what pastime they’d enjoyed all afternoon, but most of the guests had been away from the castle while she had visited with the steward and his wife.

Voices drew Maria to her chamber window, and she hobbled over to look. A couple of men and a woman wandered out into the garden. The lady’s laughter filled the air, though the men’s voices remained low and in-discernible. Then one of the men laughed and the three strolled away, out of Maria’s sight.

Leaning on her crutch, she went back to her chair by the fire and sat down. It was going to be a long, dull night.

The games were afoot. Lord Lofton and Viscount Sheffield played drunkenly at swords on the upper landing of the hall. Music played while several men danced with the loose women who’d been hired for the purpose. Men gambled with dice at one end of the large room, and raucous laughter broke out in the other.

In one quiet alcove, the wench on Nicholas’s lap wiggled suggestively and batted her lashes at him. She reached across him, brushing her breasts against his arm, and picked up her mug from the table next to them. She took a long draught of ale, then touched her tongue to her lips, implying all the wicked things she would be willing to do for him…for a price.