Her Lord and Protector (formerly titled On Silent Wings) (14 page)

It was none of
his business, really, but she supposed he deserved an explanation. Frowning,
she took the slate, shrugged, and wrote,
Afraid of small spaces
.

He shoved out a
breath. “As I thought. Why did you go in there?”

Curious
.

“And your
meddling mind got the better of your fear.”

Brows creasing
in irritation, she looked into his eyes.
Yes
, she mouthed with stiff
lips.

“Had I known
what your reaction would be in these tunnels, I would not have brought you. ’Tis
good that Elizabeth told me of her plans with you this morning.”

Had Katherine
known what it would take to come to the keep, she wouldn’t have come at all.
Yet she didn’t write the retort. Instead, she turned her attention to the
cavernous room before her. They were here. She may as well try to enjoy it.

“In any case, we
will return another way. We’ll have to climb over some rocks, but there are no
small spaces.” He walked with her, apparently finished with his reprimand, and
gestured with a broad sweep of his hand. “This is the main hall of the keep.
Since you are a curious sort, I will take you through what I can, but some of
the sections have become treacherous. Especially when Cromwell’s men destroyed
part of it when I was a boy.”

Katherine looked
up at him and caught the pain in his expression, but just as quickly the
aloofness returned. Perhaps if circumstances were different, she might ask him
to tell her about his childhood, his life. It wasn’t necessary to know,
however, and she chided herself for possessing even a remote interest.

She perused the
two huge hearths on opposite stone walls, then craned her head back and peered
up at the narrow windows high above. Part of the roof was gone and the afternoon
sun shone down on them. The vast room was empty of furniture, but she imagined
a time centuries ago when tables and chairs and rugs would have filled it. The
crackling fires in the hearths would have both warmed the fortress and
sustained the bellies of the occupants who cooked food over its roaring flames.

“This was the
family bedchamber,” Lord Drayton said, leading her over the uneven floor to an
arched doorway tucked under narrow stone steps. Through the entrance lay an
identical empty room, only much smaller. “Everyone slept here. I imagine some
of my ancestors were conceived and born in this room until my great-great
grandfather built the castle in front of it.”

He seemed far
more relaxed, the transformation remarkable, as they traversed the main room to
the steps built against one wall. He looked over at Millie hugging the door
that led back through the passages. “You do not wish to accompany us to the
battlement?”

She shook her
head and brought her hands up over her chest. “If ye please, m’lord, I’ll stay
here. I’m not partial to climbin’ up t’high places.”

Lord Drayton
dismissed the maid with a wave, his attention on Katherine. “Careful here,” he
said as he began to climb the steps. “Take my arm, please. I will carry your
slate for you.”

She did so with
flutters of apprehension. They would be alone upstairs.

While part of
her marveled once again at the muscular arm beneath her fingers, she cautioned
herself against the seething temper that might simmer beneath Lord Drayton’s
concern for her safety.

They reached the
top of the steps and walked through a short passage. This led to another set of
stairs winding up through a circular tower that could hold fifty men. He gazed
down at her with a pleasing upward curve of his mouth and an appreciative glint
in his eyes, and Katherine couldn’t help thinking that he was unspeakably
handsome when he looked at her like this.

“Would you like
to proceed to the battlements?” he asked. “They afford a fine view of my
lands.”

Was his pleasant
voice and smile intended to put her off guard? Her traitorous body denied that
he might harm her while her mind rationalized that very the possibility.

“Are you also
afraid of heights? We can return downstairs and go back to the house if you’d
like.”

He had misread
her hesitation. She forced herself to smile and shake her head. With her free
hand, she motioned him on.

A foolish act,
perhaps. She’d always been much too curious, but it was imperative—she knew not
why—that she know whether she could trust him.

The steps were
steep and numerous, and as they ascended, Lord Drayton released her hand from
his arm and took her elbow. He stayed by her side and matched his pace with
hers, saying nothing. But it was a comfortable silence, and when she glanced up
at him, he still maintained his agreeable expression.

At the top, she
stood for a moment catching her breath while looking out on a sun-washed open
walkway that circled the inside perimeter of a wide circular tower. Rectangular
openings in the outer wall afforded views of the green fields.

“Stay close to
me,” he said, pointing to where most of the stone balustrade on the inner side
of the walkway was missing. “’Tis a long fall to the bottom of the tower.”

They stayed near
the wall as they walked. Partway around, Lord Drayton paused to look out
through one of the openings and swept his hand at the vast countryside. “Here
the men guarding the keep could see for miles.”

Katherine stood
beside him and absorbed the hills dotted with white sheep and small cottages.
She pointed to the vast forest beyond, then to him, and raised her brows in question.

“Yes, the forest
is mine,” he said, as if perfectly understanding her inquiry. “There’s a
shortcut to Chiswick through it, but a highwayman is said to be lurking there.
My men and I have yet to flush him out.” He took a breath and said, “I once
considered living in Chiswick, but I prefer to remain out here in my ancestral
home.”

She held out her
hand for her slate, and when he gave it to her she wrote,
Alone?

The wind lifted
his loose golden hair. “Yes. Alone. The way I prefer to live. No interruptions,
arguing, finding fault...nothing at all. Just quiet. Peace and solitude. And
when Elizabeth is married to that turtle, Edward—if he ever moves along in his
courting—I will have what I desire.”

As he spoke, his
expression darkened with some unvoiced suffering, and one hand gripped the
stone sill of the fortress. Once again, he seemed to withdraw inside himself.

Katherine
watched his head lower, and her heart sank with him. Why would he want to be
alone? What devils crawled within and pained him so?

After a moment
he raised his head and stared at the blue sky, his gaze seeming to follow the
smooth flight of a solitary bird. “That hawk is like you, Katherine. It drifts
through the air on silent wings, yet it is strong and spirited.”

She didn’t
consider herself strong and spirited. Yet, despite her suspicions of him, he
made her feel that way.

He turned to her
and took her hand, tracing with his thumb the scar running across her palm.
“We’ve both endured almost more than we can take. Yet you are undaunted. My
hands are not scarred, yet they could do nothing to save the ones I loved.”

Lord Drayton’s
gentle words and unexpected tenderness shattered whatever mistrust she’d had of
him. As if in a dream, she watched his hands close over hers, and then looked
into his eyes.

Haunted sorrow
filled them. Katherine took in his grief, his want, and with crystal clarity
she understood. His shattered heart, masked by cold indifference, longed for
salvation.

Lord Drayton
didn’t want to be alone. And he’d never hurt anyone. He wanted, needed to be
loved.

With trembling
legs, Katherine felt herself succumbing to the alarming charm of this unpredictable
man.
The same man who
’
d arranged for her to marry another
. What
was she doing?

He didn’t want
her. She’d been a fool to come up here. He had no intention of wedding her
himself, only wished to torment her with the rough silk of his voice and a
glimpse of vulnerability within his tower of male strength.

And soon he
would give her over to a stranger.

With a silent
sob, she pulled her hand from his and backed away from him.

“Katherine?” The
question in his eyes quickly changed to wariness. His mouth drew into a tight
line, his hands twin blocks of clenched intensity. “I know not your sudden
change in mood, but if you wish to leave by this ledge, you will have quite a
descent.” Deadly calm gave his words a cold fatality. He advanced toward her.

She must escape
his compelling enticement, flee to her room, and await her fate. She turned.
The heel of her shoe caught a piece of crumbled balustrade. She fought to keep
her balance but toppled to the left—toward the edge of the walkway. Frantically
she flailed her arms as she felt herself careening over the edge.

In the last second
before she fell to her death, her eyes locked onto Lord Drayton’s. In their
blue depths was panic.

And anguish.

“No!” Lord
Drayton roared, and lunged for Katherine. His arms clamped around her body and
it seemed he, too, would fall. But he wrenched himself to the right. Clutching
her to him, fell onto his back on the rough gray stone of the walkway with her
on top of him.

With a ragged
breath, he held her. His gentle fingers slipped through her hair and stroked
her head until she had quieted.

“Katherine.” His
hand, warm and tender, moved in a caress. “I almost lost you.” His voice
sounded broken, as if reaching to her from the depths of murky water.

She forgot all
her doubts and despair in the hard warmth of his body against hers. She felt
his heart pounding as he pressed her against him. Willing his sensuous mouth to
hers, she slid her hands over his chest.

His lips met
hers, passionate yet with a warm, gentle strength, and for the first time in
her life, a lush heaviness deep within burst forth and blazed with white hot intensity.

He rolled her
onto her back once more and kept her wrapped in his arms to cradle her from the
stone beneath her. She reveled in the sensation of his hard body lying over
hers, his silky hair, his mouth on hers.

When the tip of
his tongue teased her lips, a primitive, heated desire shot straight to her
core. She opened her mouth to gasp, and his tongue thrust in.

And suddenly
there was nothing else in the world but Alex.

To simply
surrender, to yield to whatever he wanted to do with her, overrode all else.
She clutched him to her.

He was so close.
But she wanted more.

His kiss held a
deep, profound need. She met his passion, and intuitively knew that this sort
of comfort was just what Alexander Fletcher needed to sweeten his bitter soul.

Wanting him, all
of him, she met his tongue with her own and heard his deep growl of pleasure.

Soft breezes
hummed through the openings along the battlement wall and tempered the warmth
of the bright sun shining on her face. Katherine slid her hands over the
delicious, sunbathed heat of his shoulders and back. At last she could touch
him. At last. All time ended, all pretense vanished.

His thigh moved
over her leg and brushed the very center of her and she silently begged for
more, more.

Alex
.

He broke the
kiss, murmured as he nuzzled her neck, roved down over the tops of her breasts,
then returned to her lips and plundered her mouth once again.

Her entire body
sang. She turned her hips and wrapped one leg around his, pulling him against
her in desperate need. He groaned, and she knew that he was hard and ready.

His hand slid to
her shoulder and began to pull down her dress, his trailing lips leaving
exquisite hot tingles along her chest. Arching her neck, Katherine could only
respond with fast, hard breaths. Her body went liquid in his arms when he slid
his hand into her bodice and cupped her breast.

But warning
bells rang deep within, distantly at first and then louder, telling her to stop
this. Ignoring them, she kissed his neck and the small white scar on his jaw,
and gave a silent whimper when he played his fingers over her nipple. She gave
in to his mouth when it demanded hers, and clutched at his shoulders. Oh, God,
how she wanted him.

The warning grew
as reality snaked through her being. Slowly the luscious sensations subsided as
Katherine grew cold with the knowledge that she was giving herself to this man
like a wanton whore.

She stiffened
and shoved at him, and with clear surprise he moved off her. Quickly she scooted
back and then got to her feet, pulling her bodice back into place with short,
shaky jerks.

He remained on
his side, propped on one elbow for a moment, his gaze roaming over her face. A
battle of expressions—perplexity, frustration, and finally the familiar
coldness—crossed his features.

They stared at
each other. Strands of loosened hair blew into her face and she brushed them
aside. His eyes left hers and followed the impatient movements of her hands.