Claire Delacroix (9 page)

“Aphrodite!” Fergus cried plaintively.

His courtiers nigh stepped upon each other to retrieve the bird, which circled the upper reaches of the hall, its jesses trailing behind it. When it found a hole near the rafters large enough to accommodate its wingspan, it swooped through the opening and disappeared into the night.

A cry of anguish rose from all assembled, the distraught laird himself nigh screaming. The tinkle of the bell tied to the bird’s ankle grew fainter and fainter. The eyes of all who were not fighting fixed upon the dark gap through which the bird had disappeared.

“It is your fault!” Fergus cried, then pointed a finger at the seneschal. That man paled as Fergus’ kin stepped forward to have compense from his hide. A trio of men stepped forward to intervene - including Tarsuinn - and the lot of them fell to fighting with renewed vigor.

I deemed my work to be done. I darted up the stairs on silent feet. I was, of course, completely unobserved.

Or so I thought at the time.

* * *

There was a door at the top of the stairs, but to my relief, it was not locked. I slipped around it as noiselessly as a shadow, closed it and leaned back against it, muting the sounds from below. There was a marked contrast between this silent darkened corridor and the chaotic great hall.

Here I could be discovered.

I stilled my breathing so it was nigh silent and willed my heartbeat to slow. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and listened - a moment taken to observe is never wasted.

A pair of crude torches flickered upon the wall to my right, but the corridor was irregular, creating far too many dark corners for my taste. I lingered, listening for the breath of another, fearing that my flight had been too easy to not have been facilitated.

Who, truly, would have left two torches burning unobserved on the timber upper walls of a hall? Were these barbarians as witless as I suspected - or had some clever soul set a trap for me?

There were three portals, each tucked back into an elaborate niche, two on the left wall and one on the right. At the end of the hall was a window, framing a square of night sky. The snow had stopped falling, though a bit of it graced the lip of the window, for I could see the glimmer of stars. The air was crisp.

I eased to the door upon my right, hesitating there for only a moment. No candle or lantern burned within, for I could not smell a flame. The wooden floor did not creak and betray the presence of another beyond this portal. I could hear no man’s breath as he lay in wait for me.

The second door opposite seemed similarly quiet. I considered this, waiting for any assailant to reveal himself. It has long been said that I have uncommon patience and can out-wait any foe. None revealed himself - which meant either that there was no foe, or that he was as skilled as me.

I watched the sliver of light beneath the first door on the left for a long time. Finally, I slid across the corridor, making no sound as I progressed. I eased into the nook of the portal, listening avidly.

Here I smelled lamps and felt heat. I heard a muted splash, like a smoothed cube of soap slipping into water. I smelled something floral, as a noblewoman will use to scent her bath, something that awakened a memory in me of a night in York and a woman’s sweetly scented flesh. I faintly heard the sound of humming.

I smiled. There was no trap. My arrival was simply anticipated. I made to ease open the door.

“Leave me, Fiona,” Evangeline said tersely from within and I froze, my fingers just above the latch.

“But, my lady…”

“Leave me.” Steel echoed again in Evangeline’s voice.

Footsteps creaked upon the floor behind the door and I darted back into the shadows of the second door in the nick of time. A plump older maid whisked out of her lady’s chambers, disapproval tightening her lips.

She marched toward the door at the top of the stairs, clearly intending to tell Fergus of his daughter’s crimes. I shrank back into the shadows as she flung open that door, my luck holding when she did not look back.

Indeed, she gasped when she looked out upon the hall. “Sweet Jesus!” she cried, then picked up her skirts and hastened down into the fray.

What a marvel of a woman to believe she could halt such mayhem!

I returned to the door to the lady’s chamber, delighted that Fiona had not closed it as firmly as she should have done, and eased my wand of angelica into the crevice between door and frame. A flick of the wrist and the door swung silently inward, granting me a fine view of Evangeline’s bare back.

The sight of her stopped me in my tracks and brought a lump to my throat. Indeed, I could not breathe for a moment, so potent was my desire for her.

Her dark hair was pinned atop her head, though tendrils fell enticingly onto her fair shoulders. Her flesh was as fair as alabaster, a rosy glow touching her buttocks. She was slick and wet, more curvaceous and tempting than any woman I had known.

“For a man said to be skillful in moving unobserved, it took you half an eternity to find your way up one flight of stairs,” the lady said, without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

I blinked.

“Close the door, if you will, for there is a draft,” she said, her voice husky. She glanced over her shoulder at me, that tiny coy smile curving her ruddy lips. The lantern light gilded her cheek, but left her eyes fathomless and dark. I had the uncommon sense suddenly that she hunted me and not the other way around.

Again.

I flicked the door closed with my fingertips, recovering some of my usual manner. “And I had thought you might greet me with less enthusiasm,” I said, then winked. “Perhaps I underestimate my own charm.”

“Hardly that!” The lady’s smile stole the sting from her words. “Perhaps there is still something I would have of you.” She gestured, effectively distracting me from the import of her words, for I saw that the bed was turned down, the linens fresh, the candles lit.

It is not all bad to be expected.

Nor is it all bad for a lady to be so desirous of your caress that she puts her argument aside, at least for the moment. I was certainly amenable to her scheme.

I smiled as I sauntered toward her, my thoughts filled with what we shortly would do, and gallantly offered her the length of linen left to one side. I held the cloth for her, just slightly out of reach so that she would have to step toward me to claim it. “I lingered in the hall as ladies, in my experience, prefer not to be hastened in their preparations.”

“I would rather hasten my preparations than hasten my time abed.” She stepped from the bath with no shyness, her hands brushing mine as she accepted the linen. She stood, not an arm’s length before me, her gaze locked with mine. I could smell the rosewater upon her, feel the steamy heat of her wet flesh, see the tightened buds of her nipples.

She watched me look and smiled as she cast the linen aside unused. “Unless your thoughts are not as mine?” she teased, her arms slipping around my neck. I was deluged with the scent of her and caught her close, more than willing to repeat all we had done before.

“I thought myself summoned to a dire fate. You did invite me to pursue you, after all, and mocked my prowess as well.”

Evangeline laughed lightly, the sound rich in her throat. “Indeed, I did. What better way to ensure that you accepted my invitation?”

“By insulting my abilities?”

Her brow arched high. “By daring you to try again. You are a man, I think, who likes a dare well.”

I chuckled. Anxious to begin our play, I bent to kiss her, but she lay a hand upon my chest.

“But I am not truly the prize you came to claim. Be honest with me in this, at least. You came to retrieve the relic.”

My heart skipped that she saw my objective so clearly. “Did I? Perhaps I am glad to be rid of its burden. Perhaps I came to thank you.” I nuzzled her neck, loving how she caught her breath beneath my caress. “Perhaps I came to claim you as the greater prize.”

She chuckled. “You, come to seek a bride? I think not.”

“Perhaps not a bride, but another merry night abed,” I said, wanting to make this matter most clear. I took her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm, liking how her gaze darkened.

“No, I would not expect you to be a man anxious to wed,” she mused, tilting her head to regard me. “I suspect that you like to live unfettered by obligations, responsibilities and expectations.”

I should have been daunted that she already understood me so well - such was her charm that I was delighted. “There is nothing amiss with that.”

She smiled, seemingly in agreement with me. “Or perhaps you came because you heard of my abilities at chess.” She laughed low.

I might have laughed in turn, but her lips were upon mine and our discussion at an end. Evangeline cupped my head in her hands and rose to her toes, pressing her sweet heat against me and making me forget all else but the magic of her touch.

* * *

Hours later, we lay wrapped in each other’s heat, exhausted by our lovemaking. It had been as marvelous and exhausting as before. Evangeline slid from my embrace to blow out a candle close to gutting itself. I watched her, as beguiled by her grace as ever.

Her lips tightened into a rosebud as she blew, her brow tightened slightly as she concentrated on her task. She was so serious about whatsoever she did, giving it every vestige of her attention - including lovemaking. Yet, she could be playful and uninhibited, as mischievous as a fey maiden sent to torment mortal men with desire.

Beyond the lust she awakened in me was something more, something deeper, something that made me curious to know more of her than mere touch could confide. The demure demoiselle in the chapel and the wanton I met abed were facets of the same woman - and I could not yet discern how the two were reconciled in the woman she was.

I knew that I should leave, but I could not bring myself to do so. Not yet. Indeed, I have always had an uncommon affection for puzzles. Evangeline nestled against my shoulder again and smiled up at me, looking so flushed and disheveled - yet also sweetly innocent - that my heart clenched. It was impossible to face the prospect of never seeing her again after this night, of never learning more of her mysteries.

“You should come with me.” I made the invitation impulsively, but as soon as it was uttered, I knew this to be my desire. I had never traveled with another, but for Evangeline, I was prepared to make an exception.

She twisted to regard me, her eyes filled with the sparkle of laughter. I bristled slightly that she found my invitation amusing. “Come with you where?”

“Away, to the south.” I dared not tell her more than that. I pulled her closer and kissed her shoulder, hoping to persuade her to join me. “You could see with your own eyes that marvels exist.”

She propped herself up on her elbow, her dark hair cascading over her bare shoulder. I dared to hope that she considered my proposal. “As does this home you described to me afore?”

“I will possess it soon.” I was disappointed that she asked after such details, but in my experience, women find much joy in the dispensation of coin. I smiled for her, willing to allow her this concession. “Indeed, if you accompany me, you can aid in its furnishing.” I was surprised that her expression turned wry.

“And there would be a place in your home for me as what? A courtesan?”

“You will live in splendor and have every frippery you might desire.”

Evangeline almost laughed, then pushed away from me. She sat up, and stared down at me, her features shadowed. I felt whatever bond existed between us stretch thin, though I knew not what I had done. “Until you tire of me and cast me out?”

“I would not do that!”

“And who would aid me if you did?” she asked, rather more harshly than I thought the issue deserved. She had changed, not unlike the chameleons I knew from the south, changing hue even as I stared directly at her.

It was a kind of magic, for she had once again become the distant and cool lady, a woman who might have been wrought of ice.

“I have never treated a woman unfairly. You would live in luxury, admittedly for so long as we found each other agreeable. It would not be a common life.” I reached out to touch her cheek, liking that she shivered slightly at my caress. It was encouraging that my touch could recall the side of her that most appealed to me. “And indeed, we might never tire of each other.”

Evangeline pulled her chin away with a jerk. “And if we did?”

“If we parted ways, you would leave with a heavy purse and no need of anyone else…”

“No need?” Now, her eyes flashed with fire. “How can a person have no need of a family, of friends, of a home to call their own? How can a person have no need of tradition, of legacy, of roots?”

She got to her feet and retreated from me, the lack of grace in her movements revealing that she was sorely angered. With every step, the welcoming woman with whom I had just shared such intimacy seemed more distant, more a figment of my own wishful thinking. “How can you imagine that I would leave all I call my own to live as your whore?”

I got to my feet in turn, discomfited as much by her charge as by the change in her. “That is too cruel a word!”