My Valiant Knight (8 page)
“I believe I will retire to my room now,” Ainslee said, cutting through Lady Margaret’s cloying flattery of Gabel.
“Ainslee,” Gabel called, pulling slightly away from a clinging Lady Margaret.
She ignored him and started up the stairs. “Mayhaps Ugly can spend part of his confinement locked in my room or in Ronald’s. ’Twould calm him if he could spend some time with us.”
“Aye—mayhaps.”
After a quick look at Lady Margaret, Ainslee added, “And I am to be the only one who feeds him. ’Twill stop him from becoming too much a member of your pack and keep him from feeling abandoned.”
“As you wish.”
Gabel divided his attention between a clutching Margaret and a retreating Ainslee. He was sorry to see Ainslee disappear. She had donned a soft blue gown the ladies of Bellefleur had given her, and the way it flattered her eyes and coloring made her more of a pleasure to look at than usual. He also had the feeling that some dangerous game was being played right beneath his nose, but he had yet to sniff it out. It was doubtful that Ainslee would confess anything to him, but he wanted the opportunity to question her. As he escorted Lady Margaret to her bedchamber, he found himself wondering how he could rid himself of his guests without offending them.
“Are ye sure your beastie is safe, lassie?” Ronald asked as he watched Ainslee pace his room.
“As sure as I can be.” She stopped, leaned against the ornately turned bedpost at the foot of his bed, and sighed. “She went after my dog out of pure spite, Ronald.”
“Because ye didna have the grace to die beneath that rock.”
“Exactly. I wouldna be surprised if she still tries to kill Ugly. ’Tis why I have demanded that I be the only one who feeds him. Gabel appeared to have accepted my reasons for that and agreed.”
“Mayhaps he suspects something.”
“He may weel do so. Lady Margaret may weel have erred in trying to claim Ugly was a vicious dog, given to unprovoked attacks. Neither Gabel nor his men really believed that. Ugly has become the pet of Bellefleur, with even the kitchen maids slipping him a wee treat now and again.”
“Then it could weel serve a good purpose. The beast willna suffer.”
“Nay, I ken it. I ne‘er realized how difficult it can be to rouse a person’s suspicions about someone without actually saying anything. ’Twould be much easier to just sit the mon down and tell him what I think and ken about those cursed Frasers.” She shook her head. “I did tell him that it was Fraser and his men who killed my mother, but he has said nothing about that.”
“What can he say? Sadly, folk die in battle. Aye, the lad may condemn the murder of innocents in the heat of battle, but too many of his ilk have done the same for him to now condemn Fraser for it.” He frowned. “Sir Gabel doesna think ye had the dog turn on the Frasers, does he?”
Ainslee grimaced and shrugged. “He may have considered it at first, but, nay, I dinna think so. I was seated next to him in the great hall. E’en he must ken that, whilst ye can make a dog hunt someone down and ye can e’en make the animal kill a mon, ‘tis impossible to make a dog lie in wait for hours to attack one particular person. Gabel had to do something to placate his guests. I must find consolation in the fact that he didna order the dog killed. ’Twas what Fraser was demanding.”
“The bastard. Weel, my wounds will soon be healed enough for me to leave my bed, and ye willna have to wander through this nest of adders all alone.”
“Dinna try to move too soon out of fear for me. I am weel enough.”
“They tried to kill you,” Ronald protested.
“Aye, and failed. I am now alerted to their deadly intentions and will be even more careful. Soon my father must ransom us and we can leave this place. Now, I have wearied ye enough with all my complaints—”
“Ye ken that I am always ready to listen,” Ronald assured her.
“Aye, I ken it.” She moved to his side and kissed his cheek before walking to the door. “I will be fine. Dinna fret o’er me.”
“Nay? I canna help doing so when I recall that ’twas the Frasers who slaughtered your poor mother.”
“The Frasers will discover that I have a goodly share of the MacNairn blood mixed with that of my mother. I willna be such an easy kill.”
Gabel stood by the narrow window in Justice’s room and scowled down at the dog pens next to the stable. Ugly sat in the middle of the pen howling softly but mournfully, the other dogs huddling in the far comers of the pen. Ugly was so much bigger and stronger than his dogs, there had been little fighting when the animal had been tossed in with the pack. Nevertheless, Gabel had to fight the urge to go down and release the animal. He inwardly grimaced as he admitted to himself that he wished to do that not for the animal’s sake, but for Ainslee’s. Her pet’s unhappiness was going to distress her, and he badly wanted to avoid that.
“ ’Tis nonsense, you know,” Justice murmured as he stepped up next to Gabel and peered out at the dog. “That dog has been raised with a gentle, loving hand. He is a fighter, but he would not attack without reason.”
“I believe that as well, although I did have a moment’s doubt. Ainslee and the Frasers hate each other. I did briefly wonder if Ainslee had tried to make the dog hurt them. Howbeit, why would the Frasers wish to harm a dog? It makes no sense.”
“Nay? You just said that the Frasers hate Ainslee MacNairn. Ainslee loves that dog.”
“And, so, if you hurt the dog, you hurt Ainslee? ’Tis a child’s spiteful act. Lord Fraser and his daughter are full grown and high-ranked members of the king’s court.”
“So you think them above such nonsense?” Justice laughed and shook his head. “Only a saint is above the occasional act of spite, cousin, and the Frasers will ne’er gain sainthood. I was not surprised when I heard the tale. Since you have spent more time in the Frasers’s company than I, I wonder why you are so puzzled by the deed.”
Gabel sighed and leaned against the wall. “I am not In truth, I am now ashamed of my brief suspicion about Ainslee. What troubles me is the conviction that this incident is but a small part of something else. Something is happening between Ainslee and the Frasers, I am certain of it, yet I cannot guess what it is, and none of them has allowed even the smallest hint to escape them.”
“Then why are you so certain?”
“There is a feeling in the air, as if I am being buffeted by conspiracies and treacheries whirling about me, ones not aimed at me directly, but which will concern me. ’Tis as if I have been dragged into a dance I do not know the steps of. I believe the Frasers are the most guilty, yet Ainslee plays some game as well. At times I feel that she tries to make me see something, but I know not what.”
“Then ask her.”
“And you believe she will simply tell me all?”
“Not without some coercion, but I do believe the girl cannot lie. She can twist her words and dance about the truth, but I truly think that she will not lie.” Justice pointed down at the dog pens. “And, if you hurry, you may have a chance to get a few of the answers you seek.”
Gabel stared down at the dog pens, watching as Ainslee fed her dog some scraps. He shared Justice’s opinion that Ainslee would not outright lie to him. As he turned and started out of the room, he just hoped he could abide whatever truth he might pull out of her.
Eight
“There, my poor wee laddie,” Ainslee cooed as she fed Ugly a scrap of meat through the slats of the pen.
“Poor—mayhaps. Wee—never,” murmured Gabel as he stepped up behind her.
Ainslee gave a soft cry of surprise, for she had not heard his approach, then cast him a brief glare of annoyance over her shoulder, before returning all of her attention to Ugly. The way Gabel stood so closely behind her quickly began to unsettle her. She was too keenly aware of his presence, of his warmth at her back. It annoyed her that, despite his spending most of his day with another woman, her interest in him had only grown stronger. She still wanted him, still dreamt of him, and still ached for his kisses. It was, she decided, all rather pathetic. Her only comfort was in the fact that he had no knowledge of her weaknesses.
“He has been treated as weel as any bairn,” she said, squeezing her fingers through the slats to scratch her dog’s ears. “He doesna understand why he canna run free.”
“As I said, I believe that, if he runs free now, he will die.” Gabel slipped his arms about her tiny waist, and rested his chin on the top of her head. “The Frasers see your dog as a threat.”
“And ye canna stop them from doing as they please?” She inwardly cursed the hint of huskiness in her voice caused by the warmth his touch stirred within her.
“Stop them from protecting themselves? Nay. I could deny that your dog was a threat, but, in truth, most people would wonder why I troubled myself over a dog. The king would see any complaint as a foolish waste of his time.”
“And because the dog is mine, ’twill be thought by many that the Frasers were right to kill him,” Ainslee said quietly, ruefully acknowledging that the MacNairn name was enough to condemn her or any of her own.
“I fear so.” Gabel touched a kiss to the back of her ear, smiling faintly when she trembled in his arms. “Why would the Frasers falsely accuse your dog?”
“They hate dogs.” As he teased her ear with warm, gentle kisses, Ainslee closed her eyes and leaned back into his hold.
“Clever, Ainslee, but not an answer good enough to silence my questions.”
“Why trouble me with questions anyhow? What does it all matter?”
“Something is going on at Bellefleur, something between you and the Frasers.”
“Do ye think we plot against you?”
Ainslee turned around to face him. She had hoped that that move would end his kissing and the confusing heat stirred by his body pressing so close to hers. The respite she gained was only brief, for he placed his hands against the sturdy pen on either side of her, caging her body between his and the dogs’ cage. She shuddered when he touched a kiss to her cheek, slowly drawing his body closer to hers until they brushed against each other. She clenched her hands into tight fists as she fought the urge to reach out to him and pull him hard up against her. All her needs and desires were descending upon her with a vengeance and a strength she was finding impossible to fight. The clarity of mind she needed to fend off his questions was swiftly retreating.
“Nay,” he murmured against the curve of her neck. “I do not believe either of you are much concerned with me, but there are definitely plots afoot. They whirl about me so strongly, I can feel the breeze. I realize that there is an old animosity between you and the Frasers—”
A brief flicker of sanity cut through the haze of desire clouding Ainslee’s mind, and she leaned away from him. “Animosity? Such a gentle word for what lies between me and the Frasers. They killed my mother, dinna forget that. And, even before my clan became so lawless, the Frasers and the MacNairns opposed each other. ‘Tis not animosity, m’lord, but clear, hard loathing. Ye are probably the first in a hundred hundred years to see Frasers and MacNairns within the same keep. In any other place, one of us would have cut the other’s throat by now.”
“Are you certain that such a murder is not being plotted even now?”
“
I
dinna plot to murder anyone.”
I
dinna plot to murder anyone.”
There was a look in his eyes which told her that he had caught the distinct inflection in her words, but he said nothing. She clung to the slats of the pen as he edged closer, brushing soft kisses over her throat. Ainslee knew she ought to push him away, but she simply tilted her head back to allow him access.
She knew Gabel just sought to placate his desires. Lady Margaret’s presence was all the proof she needed that Gabel de Amalville would not even consider the possibility of marrying her. He just wanted a lover for a little while. Ainslee already knew that she wanted far more than passion from him. Common sense told her to shove him aside, loudly proclaim her outrage and leave, for the passion he offered would cost her dearly. That passion was hard to resist, however. The fact that she had almost been killed and that even her dog’s life was in danger made her hesitate to do what was considered right and honorable. The threat to her life still loomed. She dreaded the thought of dying unloved, even if that love was the fleeting sort born of lust.
While logic and passion still wrestled in her mind, Gabel pulled her hard against him. He brushed his lips over hers, teasing them apart and then easing his tongue into her mouth. Ainslee flung her arms around his neck and decided that she would let passion rule her actions. There would be a price to pay for her recklessness, but, as he started to stroke the inside of her mouth, she decided she was more than willing to pay it.
Gabel hoisted her up in his arms and pressed her even closer to him. When she wrapped her slim legs around his waist, he groaned. Holding her as she clung to him, and moving his attentions to her ear so that he could keep her enflamed yet still see where he was going, he strode to the stable. He went to a secluded, hay-strewn corner, sheltered from the cold and prying eyes. Even as he worked to stifle any protest she might consider making with kisses and heated flattery, he shed his cloak and tossed it over the hay. He gently urged her down onto the rough bed and then settled himself between her legs in an enticing mockery of the intimate embrace he craved.
Ainslee gasped as his body came to rest against hers. She could feel the hard proof of his need pressed firmly against her. Knowing she could stir Gabel so worked to heighten her own need. As he smothered her throat with hot kisses and slowly unlaced her bodice, she curled her legs around his trim hips and pressed him even closer. She echoed his hoarse groan, an ache flaring out from that point of contact and rushing throughout her body.
Still reeling from that feeling, she offered no resistance as he tugged off her tunic. It was not until he began to slide her chemise up her body that she awoke to the fact that she would soon be sprawled beneath Gabel dressed only in her braies. She struggled to regain some glimmer of sanity and crossed her arms over her chest. Gabel was oblivious to her silent and somewhat weak gesture of protest, however. He sat astride her staring down at her braies with a mixture of surprise and amusement.
“You wear braies,” he muttered even as he pulled off his tunic and tossed it aside.
“What a clever mon ye are, m’lord.” The sting she had intended to put behind her words was greatly reduced by the soft huskiness in her voice.
Gabel laughed and bent to kiss her as he unlaced his shirt. “I have ne’er known a woman to wear braies.” He took off his shirt, rolled it up, and placed it beneath her head.
“Ronald insisted that I wear them. He said that it was one more shield, one more thing to cause a mon to hesitate and thus allow me a chance to get away.”
“And are you going to try and get away from me?”
“I should,” she whispered as she gave into temptation and smoothed her hands over his broad chest, savoring the way he trembled beneath her touch. “I should strike ye sharply, push ye aside, and flee to my bedchamber, honor and maidenhead still intact.”
“I have no plans to steal your honor, sweet Ainslee.”
“Nay? Ye mean to bed me, to use me to sate your desires.”
He touched a kiss to her frowning mouth as he eased her chemise off of her faintly trembling body. “I do not mean to use you, Ainslee MacNairn. I mean to enjoy you, savor you, and please you. Do you deny what flames between us?”
She shivered as he threw her chemise aside and crouched over her. The way he stared at her as he slid his big hands down to her braies made it hard to breathe. There was no ignoring or denying the passion darkening his eyes. Desire had put a light flush upon his high cheekbones and tightened his lean features. The knowledge that that passion was for her was a heady thing. He shared her hunger and her need, even if he did not share any of the deeper feelings she was afflicted with. Ainslee only briefly wished that she had the strength of will to leave his arms. She wanted him too much, wanted desperately to taste the passion he offered her. She gasped with pleasure and thrust her fingers through his thick long hair, when he touched a kiss to the tip of her breasts.
“Tell me, Ainslee. Do you deny the passion which gnaws at us?”
“Nay,” she whispered, trembling as he pulled off her braies. “Howbeit, I should still refuse it.”
“As should I, but I fear I have no strength to do so,” he muttered, hastily shedding the last of his clothing as he looked over every inch of her slim, pale body.
“ ’Tis good to hear that I am not the only weak soul here.”
When Gabel tossed aside the last of his clothes and crouched over her again, Ainslee felt a touch of alarm ripple through her desire. He was a big man, and she was suddenly all too aware of how small and slender she was. Their passion matched, but she was no longer so certain that their bodies would. When he eased his body down onto hers and their flesh met, such a wave of desire tore through her body, it pushed aside all of her concerns. He felt good, and he made her feel very, very good. Ainslee suddenly did not care about anything else.
“Are you going to push me aside, fair Ainslee?” he whispered against her lips.
“Nay, ye rutting Norman bastard, I canna, and I think ye ken it weel,” she replied, her words harsh, but her tone of voice soft and welcoming.
“Nay. I but prayed that I was not the only one crippled by this aching need.”
Ainslee knew exactly what he referred to. The passion was so strong, the need so great, she simply did not care about such things as consequences. She greeted his fierce kiss with a hunger to equal his. As his kisses moved to her throat, she ran her hands over his back and down his sides, the warm tautness of his skin a delight to touch.
A soft cry escaped her when Gabel’s kisses reached her breasts. He stroked the aching tips with his tongue and she arched against him, burrowing her fingers into his hair to hold him in place. As he drew one hardened nipple deep into his mouth, a tremor tore through her body, the strength of feeling his caress invoked causing her to shake. She grew feverish in her movements as he moved his hands over her body, finding every sensitive spot upon her skin. Gabel kept her fever raging with his touch, his kisses, and the heated words he whispered against her skin.
Only once did shocked modesty cut into her blind desire. Gabel slowly covered her inner thighs with kisses, then lightly touched one to the aching place between them. Ainslee gasped and flinched away from him, but Gabel gave her passion no time to fade. He quickly returned to the caresses and kisses that had fired her blood, banishing all the cooling effects of her shock.
When Gabel loomed over her, she looked at him. Before she could find the voice to ask him why he had stopped kissing and stroking her, she felt him press into her. She stared at his taut features as he eased their bodies together, breathless with anticipation. A sharp pain caused her to gasp, and she clutched at his shoulders. Even though desire still held her tightly in its grip, the pain dimming it only briefly, Ainslee suddenly felt clearheaded. She was intensely aware of their entwined bodies, of the feeling of being joined with Gabel, and even the rhythms of his breathing. With a deep sigh of pleasure, she curled her body around his and pulled him closer.
A groan shuddered through Gabel, and he came alive in her arms. Ainslee felt her body quickly learn to parry his every thrust. The desire that had flooded her body began to collect low in her belly in a hot knot. It grew to a strength that was almost painful, then burst, spreading over her with such force that she cried out his name. A small part of her was aware of Gabel tightly gripping her hips and driving deep within her as he shuddered and groaned. She blindly wrapped her arms around him when he collapsed against her.
It was a long time before Ainslee regained her senses. She was wondering what to say or do, when Gabel left her arms. Chilled, she tugged his cloak over her, suddenly painfully aware of her nudity. When he returned with a damp rag, she blushed as he bathed away the stains of her lost innocence. She was still unable to look at him when he laid down beside her and tugged her into his arms. The warmth of his body and the way he stroked her hair smoothed away her embarrassment, but she was still unsure of what to do next.
“Do you now regret what we have done?” Gabel asked, Ainslee’s continued silence beginning to make him uneasy.
“Oh, nay,” she assured him, finally looking at him and briefly touching his cheek. “I should regret it, of course, and now loudly bemoan my loss of honor, but, to speak truthfully, ’twas great fun.”
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