My Lady Faye (19 page)

Aldous had transformed the grim reality of the dungeon into a warm and welcoming burrow. Beeswax candles lit the stone in a golden glow. In the central area, where guards would have sat, thick braided rugs lay across the hard floor and walls. A rough bench sat beneath a table of unplaned wood. As if Aldous had dragged the tree into his hole in the ground and put it on a set of cross braces. Only the top had been planed and leveled. Faye’s feet throbbed in anticipation of a time when they could rest.

Aldous motioned her over to the bench.

She sat.

To one side an old cell faced the central space, the door gone. Inside, a large pallet, piled high with blankets and cushions, spread over the floor. He must sleep there. An adjacent cell held shelves like Bess’s cottage, lined with a haphazard array of basket and crates. The hearth chimney disappeared into the roof above them. She wanted to examine how Aldous had achieved such a thing. A kettle hung over it and exuded a smell of something that made her stomach growl.

“Wash.” Aldous carried a pail of water into a third cell.

Delighted to oblige, Faye followed with Simon. Aldous had set this space up for bathing, with another of his rough tables and a series of buckets lined across the wall. The scent of sage grew heavier in this room. She sank her hands into the cool, silky water. More sage. Clearly, an herb he favored.

Aldous dropped a pile of washing cloths beside her and fetched another pail of water.

Faye wet a cloth and tended to Simon first. As she worked off some of the accumulated grime, he pulled a face, but stood mostly still. “See there.” She gave him a final swipe with the cloth. “I knew there was a handsome boy beneath there somewhere.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but gave her a small grin.

Leaning up against the empty doorjamb, Newt watched with his lips curled up in distaste. Faye crooked her finger at him. It would take more than a quick wipe with a cloth to get that face clean.

A look of unadulterated horror crossed Newt’s thin features and he straightened. He licked his palms and scrubbed them down his cheeks. “There.”

Mother of two boys, and no stranger to their antics, Faye know the amount of steel required in her tone. “Come here, Newt.”

“I do not bathe.” Newt crossed his arms over his chest.

“You do if you want to eat.” Faye leveled a stare at him.

Newt gave it a valiant effort before he scowled at the ground and dragged his feet toward her.

Faye dipped a fresh cloth into the water.

He grabbed it from her hand.

Boys! All the same. Scared of a drop of soap and water. She snatched the cloth back. If she let him have it, he would do a rough job at best.

Newt glared at her, but dropped his hands.

Faye did not spare the water on his filthy face and neck. A boy this dirty must have been years in the making.

He writhed and squirmed beneath her, but Faye kept at it.

With a nod of encouragement, Aldous brought her a fresh bucket of water.

“There.” Faye stepped back to examine the fruits of her labors. She had done Nurse proud with her work.

Newt was not a comely child, with a large nose and wide mouth in his too thin face. His small, dark gaze darted around like a rodent.

“Much better.” She smiled at him. Without his years of grime, she could actually see the color climb his cheeks. Food. The idea had never appealed more and Faye trailed the boys back to the central area.

With too many to squash around the table, Gregory and Aldous ate standing.

Faye ate with an appetite she had never known she had. Savory stew exploded in a blend of carrot, celery, onion and potato across her tongue. Exotic spices defied her attempts to name them. She had not the heart to admonish Simon for shoveling it down his throat. There was enough for all to fill their bellies, and for the boys to take a second helping, almost as if Aldous had known and prepared for their coming.

“He appears prepared for us.” Faye restrained herself from wiping her fingers around her bowl as Newt did.

“Aldous is a strange one.” Gregory smiled and put his bowl aside. “He keeps many secrets, eats no meat, and has ways of knowing things beyond understanding.”

There was something more to this old man. His beard and gray hair gave him the appearance of advanced age, yet he moved as spryly as Newt and his face was smooth and unmarred by time. His eyes were his most striking feature, bluer than any she had seen they seemed deeper than the ocean.

Aldous raised his brow in question.

Faye’s face heated as she looked away. It was unbearably rude to stare. Yet, her gaze drifted back to him as if drawn that way.

“We should sleep.” Gregory rose and took her bowl. “We need to rest and then decide the best way forward.”

Faye woke to find Gregory’s gaze on her. “Simon?” She bolted up right. He had gone to sleep beside her on a makeshift pallet beside the hearth.

“Aldous has him.” Elbows resting on his knees, Gregory sat at the table.

“Where are they?”

“Gone foraging for food.” Gregory smiled. “They will be safe with Aldous.”

“You are sure?”

“Aye.” He cleared his throat. “I would not have let them go if I were not. Aldous can disappear like smoke if the need arises.” Gregory loved Simon like his own. He would not have let him go if there was danger.

“You are certain they will be safe?” She was a mother, after all.

“I am certain.” He nodded. “I have been waiting for you to wake.”

“Indeed.” Gregory seemed different this morning. She could not put her finger on how.

“There are things I need to say.” Gregory wanting to speak without prompting was one glaring difference.

“Things that should not be spoken?”

“Nay.” He dropped his gaze to his hands. “Things that, indeed, should be spoken.” He pushed to his feet. Gregory’s strange behavior unsettled her and she took a moment to compose her thoughts as she tidied her bliaut about her knees.

He paced to the hearth. “Are you hungry?”

“Aye.”

“There is pottage, still warm.”

“Indeed.” She rose.

Gregory ladled oat pottage into a small wooden bowl. A basin of honey rested on the table beside a jug of rich, fresh cream.

Faye approached the table cautiously. She tried to read Gregory’s masked face as she took a seat. She should know better by now. Gregory could draw a blanket over his features that she could not penetrate. The blanket was in place, but that muscle worked in his jaw. Faye ate her pottage. It might have been earth for all she tasted. “Have you eaten?”

“Aye.” He scraped fingers through his hair. “I am confused, my Lady Faye.”

Three, my Lady Fayes. Giddy bounty, indeed. Faye held her breath and waited. For what, she had no idea, but his mood seemed to demand her silence.

“Yesterday, when I couldn’t find you, I was more afraid than I have ever been in my life.” He sat opposite her and laid his hands on the table between them.

“But you did find me.” Faye stretched out her hand to touch her fingertips to his.

He captured her hand. “I thought I had lost you.”

It made no sense. He had walked away from her. Time and time again. “Gregory—”

“Let me finish.” He pressed a kiss into her palm. “Only be patient with me because I am not a man of words.”

Indeed. Her hand tingled from the hot press of his mouth. Faye curled her fingers around the spot protectively.

“You were right when you told me my own stubbornness is what ails me.”

She shouldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t have said any of it. He was not the only one with confession on his mind. She had sworn to make this right. “I should not have said what I said.”

“Aye, you should. I deserved no less.”

“Indeed.” She couldn’t fathom him. He didn’t want her apology or her regrets.

Color climbed his cheeks. “What I said before, about the…um…”

“The kiss?” His embarrassment might have been amusing if it did not concern her.
We kissed.
She wanted to bellow what Gregory could not even bring himself to say.

He cleared his throat. “What I said about it being your fault. I was wrong and I humbly beg your pardon. It was poor of me to do so.” This huge, strong man with his head bowed in penitence, humbled himself before her. Her heart ached to make it right again. The distance between them was too far.

“Nay.” Faye stood. “I kissed you and I should not have.”

He rounded the table to her. Before her transfixed gaze, his chest expanded. “I was not wroth about the kiss, my lady. I was wroth the kiss ended and I did not want it to.”

A heavy pulse pounded in her middle. Her limbs threatened to melt into the floor. She needed to touch him. Faye raised her hand to the warmth of the skin above his heart. There did not seem to be words to explain the clamor through every part of her. “Gregory.”

He pressed her palm closer to his skin. Larger and darker, the nails blunt and short, his hand engulfed hers. “My desire for you maddens me.” His voice hoarsened. “For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to join the priesthood and yet there is always you.”

“Aye.” She understood only too well. The longing weakened her knees. His flesh scalded her palm.

“I know not what to do with it.” He stepped closer until there was barely a heart beat between them. “Aldous believes the bond between a man and a woman to be sacred.”

“What do you believe?” There was something different about Gregory. His face, looking down at her, bore an expression he always hid from her. Desire. She spread her fingers beneath his. The beat of his heart pulsed through the small connection.

“I know not what I believe.” He smiled ruefully. “I know only when I could not find you yesterday, there could be nothing worse.”

“Aye.” Countless questions bickered in the back of her mind, but they fell silent under his dark, tender gaze. Faye rose to her toes. She moved slowly, her heart pounded at her own daring, as she closed the distance between them.

His head lowered and he met her halfway.

Aye. The first touch of his lips scored through her. She leant into his strength to keep her balance.

His arm fastened about her waist and pulled her to him. With a low rumble, he opened his mouth over hers, his tongue seeking entry.

Faye trembled under the assaulting sweetness. The kiss warmed every part of her, spreading to her extremities. Everything melted away under the gentle tangle of his tongue with hers, his arm about her waist, her only anchor to the earth.

He cupped her face in his palms and eased her away.

Faye wanted to stay near him. She craved the closeness he offered.

“I can make you no promises.” He stroked the swell of her cheek with his thumb.

“Nor I you.” How could such a thing as love feel sweet and tragic all at once? Faye’s breath caught on a sob.

“No tears.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “There have been enough tears betwixt us.

All she could think to do was kiss him, and Faye did. The tangle of emotions between them flared into life and the kiss grew hungry. Faye clung to his broad shoulders, her nails dug into the muscle. More.

He fastened his hand on her breast.

Faye froze. Images battered at her and her eyes popped open to halt them. It was Gregory’s face above hers. Gregory’s hand on her breast and the spike of fear lessened.

“Forgive me. I hurt you.” He dropped his hand. “I have not lain with a woman before.” His cheeks reddened at the admission.

Any traces of fear disappeared and Faye smiled. This was not Calder who touched her. Gregory’s confession gave her a new boldness. Grasping his hand, she put it to her breast. “You did not hurt me.” She pressed his hand over her flesh to show him how she wanted to be touched. “It feels wondrous.”

A shy smile split his face. His gaze dropped to watch his large hand span her breast. Heat throbbed between her thighs as he stroked the bud of her nipple. He brought his other hand up to caress her.

Faye grabbed his arms to steady herself. The pleasure surged wanton and liberating through her. Against her belly, his shaft pressed hard. She wanted to touch. Seven years of marriage and she had never contemplated such a thing with Calder. His shaft had repelled her as she understood what Calder would demand. With Gregory, she touched the evidence of his desire. She slid her hands down the fascinating indents of his belly. Lines of muscle marched in a ladder over his ribs.

He hissed in a breath. A muscle tensed beneath her touch. A thin line of hair disappeared beneath his braies and Faye slid her fingers along it. He was warm and heavy to the touch, the skin over his shaft surprisingly soft, silken. He pulsed in her hand and she closed her fingers around him.

“Faye.” His jaw clenched, his breath came harsh as he watched her hand through hooded lids.

“Let me.” She moved her hand over him.

He made a strangled sound and dropped his head forward. She was doing this to him. The knowledge was as heady as mead. A fine tremor shook him as she stroked him. Gregory groaned, his hand clasped her wrist to stop her. “I will spill.”

“Let me.” She rose on her toes.

His mouth descended on hers as he loosened his hold on her hand.

Between her thighs, she grew heavy and damp. Their mouths mated in time to her strokes on his shaft.

With a garbled shout, he tensed and sticky wetness covered her hand. He pressed his head into the crook of her shoulder. “Dear God.”

Faye throbbed unfulfilled, but she reveled in the knowledge of what she had given him. No other woman had touched him thus and rendered him helpless with a few strokes of her hand.

Gregory raised his head. Color rode high on his cheeks. He kissed her as if she were the most precious thing on earth. “You are, indeed, a sorceress.”

Feet scuffed the stairs. Faye leapt away from Gregory. They could have been interrupted at any point. She had allowed herself to be swept away in the madness. She had no regrets, but guilty heat flooded her face.

Gregory handed her a washing cloth and she wiped her hand.

She dared not look at him or she would give the game away. Faye dropped the cloth back into the bucket as Simon rounded the staircase at a run.