Return of the Rose (12 page)

“Nay, I do not. I saw her swim like a mermaid, but it would not surprise me if suddenly she could not paddle her way out of a puddle. It is a pity, my lord, that the king has linked you with one such as her.”

Derek leaned forward and placed a fatherly hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. “I have taught you well…mayhap too well.”

After Emmon left his study, Derek wondered if perhaps he had been too hard on the boy in the past. As his squire, the boy had needed toughening. Derek could see he had succeeded in that regard. Like himself, Emmon had no patience for wasting time, and dawdling with a woman was just that.

~~~~

“I thought I made it clear to you both that Lady Amanda’s running off in the forest was to be kept quiet,” Matti said to Hugo and Emmon, fixing them both with a disappointed scowl now that she had them alone in the sewing room. “It is difficult enough getting Lord Vanguard’s cooperation with his impending marriage without you two adding sticks to the fire.”

“More than a dozen men learned of Lady Amanda’s folly before Hugo sent them back to Braddock with her maid.” Emmon lowered his voice, “‘Tis only right I should also tell Lord Vanguard I saw his betrothed in the arms of her lover.”

Matti shook her head. “Your eagerness to be rid of Lady Amanda is growing tiresome. You said yourself it was a one-sided kiss. If Robert DeChaville jumped from a tree as you said, then surely she was not expecting to run into him.”

“‘Twas a kiss nonetheless,” Emmon muttered, “and his lordship would surely put her in the dungeon for that. The two of you are playing Cupid and unwittingly making a fool of his lordship. I no longer wish to play a part in your ludicrous matchmaking games.”

Hugo put a firm yet friendly arm about the boy’s shoulder. “Emmon, my boy. You have already been sworn to secrecy on the matter. And although you have made it clear you are not happy with Lady Amanda, have you ever seen Lord Vanguard look happier? Do you not want to see his lordship contentedly settled?”

“‘Tis obvious to me,” Emmon said, “that she is not of the settling sort. Peculiar is what she is.”

“Aye, she is odd at times,” Hugo agreed, “but I, for one, like her courage.”

Matti smiled and said, “Indeed. And she is a friendly lass. The castle children adore her already.”

“No need to worry about Lord Vanguard squashing her spirit as we first thought,” Hugo chimed in as he returned to sit on a stool.

Emmon crossed his arms in exasperation and kept quiet.

“I surmise Lord Vanguard may have found his match,” Matti said thoughtfully, “whether he cared to or not.”

Hugo gazed fondly at his wife. They both knew if there was one thing Lord Vanguard needed it was a trace of happiness. Something the entire castle could use about now.

~~~~

Derek’s eyes stung as he made his way down the narrow hallway toward his bedchamber. Once again he had worked well into the night without rest. Ever since his steward had run off, he had been burning the candles into the wee hours. He stopped abruptly when he saw Hugo standing like a sentry before Amanda’s bedchamber door. “How is she?” Derek asked Hugo.

“I am afraid she is not faring well, my lord.”

Derek stiffened. “What do you say? She had but a few scrapes and bruises.”

“Matti is with her now but it seems her ladyship could scarcely walk this morning. Her injuries are far worse than you surmised. Naught to fret about, though, my lord, a physician will be here soon to look after her.” Hugo gazed about dispiritedly as if he were already mourning the death of her.

“I will see for myself.” Derek moved toward the door.

“Take these in for me, will you?” Hugo grabbed a bouquet of flowers from a vase on the hall table and shoved them into Derek’s hands before he could protest.

Derek stepped quietly into Lady Amanda’s bedchamber. When he saw her happily sharing stories with Matti, he felt his hackles rise. Here he stood, he thought, brimming with concern and looking a foolish sop with flowers in hand. And for a wench, no less, whom he had vowed only yesterday to avoid at all times.

Matti smiled and stood, stifling a chuckle as she swept past him, making a quick exit.

He watched Amanda maneuver within the bed to see who had entered. Her chin instantly began a haughty upward climb until she spotted the flowers in his hands. Only then did her icy reserve melt as fast as snow on hot timber. “For me?”

“I am afraid so.”

“You are ‘afraid so’?”

He sighed as he headed her way and merely thrust the flowers toward her. “I mean naught by it. Here, take them. Now what is this I hear about you not being able to walk?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I can walk. It hardly hurts anymore.” She pulled the coverlet aside and raised the thin chemise to her knees. “I mean honestly, the fuss Hugo and Matti have been making these last few days is ridiculous.”

A prickly, lusty heat charged through him, and he gritted his teeth to think her bare knees alone could give him pause. Other than a fading bruise and a few well-healed scratches, her creamy skin was very nearly unblemished. He bristled as it suddenly dawned on him that Hugo and Matti were up to something. Even the flowers, he would bet, were part of their plan. Always scheming, those two. “Raise your gown higher so I can see the extent of your injuries.”

“Nice try,” she said wryly.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re serious?”

He nodded.

She let out a ponderous breath. “You aren’t going to leave until I show you, are you?”

“Nay.”

A burst of modesty must have consumed her, Derek mused, for she rambled on suddenly as if she hoped to scare him off with her chatter. It was working, too, he thought resentfully. “For two days,” she said, “I have been held captive in this room without one visit from you. But now you barge in here, throw me a handful of flowers…” she glanced wistfully at the colorful blooms, “demanding I show you my body. You’re truly unbelievable.”

He merely cocked a brow and waited.

“Fine, here, take a look.” She yanked the silky fabric upward, revealing the upper area of her pale slender thighs.

His throat went dry.

“See? All wounds are healing nicely.” She stretched the gown to her ankles, threw the bedcover over her lap and then looked up at him. “Satisfied?”

“Nay,” he answered, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

She inhaled sharply as he slid the coverlet back down. Slowly he raised the hem of her gown, watching how the silky fabric clung to her shapely legs as he revealed her bare legs once more. Using the ointment Matti had left behind, he felt her body tense slightly when his salve-covered fingers touched her warm skin.

“Nice flowers,” she said, her voice quavering. “Are those the roses Emmon grew?”

Much more interested in watching the goose bumps appear as his fingers slid across her smooth thigh, he paid her no heed. Her skin was as soft as goose feathers. Through the silk chemise he could see her body’s reaction to his touch.

~~~~

Morgan closed her eyes at the very first touch. She tried to relax against the mounds of pillows behind her, but it was impossible. There had to be something she could think of other than the thrilling graze of his palms against her skin. Her mouth dried as his thumb trailed over her flesh like a whisper. The masculine scent of him mingled with the roses sent waves of excitement rippling through her body. She leaned her head back, inhaling deeply as his hands worked their magic.

She felt downright feverish, never having dreamt that a man touching her so intimately would or could feel so good. Even with her eyes closed, she knew he was watching her. She should’ve been blushing with embarrassment. Instead she felt a keen sense of pleasure at the idea of his gaze shadowing the agile movements of his fingers as he massaged and teased. She clutched at the mattress as his other hand caressed her jaw before he brought his lips to hers. She lifted a hand and blindly raked her fingers through his thick hair, urging his mouth impossibly closer. He was right, damn it. She wanted him. And damn it, she was going to have him.

A knock sounded at the door. Her eyes shot open, meeting Derek’s gaze in shared, frustrated silence. She swallowed dryly.

“God’s teeth, man,” Derek growled as he swept the covers over her and stood. “Who’s there?”

“The doctor has arrived,” Hugo answered.

They heard hushed whisperings outside the door before Matti added, “The good doctor has come to see about Lady Amanda’s injuries. May we enter?”

“Come in,” Derek bellowed, cursing under his breath.

Morgan averted her gaze as Matti led a tall, well-groomed stranger into the room. Judging by Derek’s scrutiny of the man, he didn’t recognize the physician with the broad shoulders and pretty-boy looks. The doctor gave Derek a courteous nod as he approached her bedside.

“State your name,” Derek ordered, blocking the man’s way.

“Sir Henry Warcliffe, Doctor of Medicine, my lord.”

Derek eyed him skeptically. “As you can see, my betrothed is doing well. She has naught but a few scratches that have already been well tended.”

Matti tried to speak. “But—”

“‘Tis taken care of, Matti. Is that not right, my love?”

Morgan could hardly believe what she was hearing. Was he talking about her? Nonetheless, she nodded in quick agreement and tried not to laugh when Derek took the stunned man by his shoulders, turned him none to gently about and ushered him out the door.

Matti shot Morgan a devilish grin before she followed the two men into the hall. When Derek returned, Morgan was disappointed to see that his look of lusty passion had been replaced with that all too familiar scowl. “‘My love?’“ Morgan teased.

The fine lines etched across his forehead grew deeper. “‘Tis an endearment used by most couples about to be shackled in marriage. I thought it best he knew you were sworn to me.”

“I know you don’t want to marry, but give me a break. ‘Shackled in marriage’? You talk as if the old ball and chain is already heavy about your neck and ankles.”

“I do not wish to speak of this.”

“Why not?”

“No use whining about life’s cruelties when there is naught that can be done to remedy the situation.”

“Sometimes talking about life’s cruelties helps ease the pain.”

“‘Twould seem you believe talking to be a cure for all ailments.”

“Not for everything,” she said coyly, hoping he’d get the hint and take over where he’d left off before they were interrupted.

Unfortunately his frown only deepened.

“I do think it helps people to talk about their problems,” she told him. “Otherwise problems tend to fester and grow.”

“Hmmm,” is all he said, appearing to be deep in thought.

“Matti told me about your mother,” she said, hoping to get him to open up.

“I have no mother.”

“You did at one time. Tell me about her, Derek. What was she like?”

He grunted and headed for the door. Disappointment swallowed her whole as she watched him walk away. He obviously harbored a deep resentment toward his mother and wasn’t ready to open up. “Thanks,” she said before he reached the door.

“For what?” His two words shot through the air like bullets.

“You don’t have to shout.”

“I am not shouting!”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. “I was going to thank you for the flowers, but never mind.” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the ceiling, waiting for him to leave.

Derek grunted as he turned back toward the door to do just that. “I will be in my study should you be in need of me.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

The door opened and closed. He was gone and yet her body still felt weak from the medical attention he’d given her. The man treated her emotions like a yo-yo: falling and rising, unwinding and rewinding. Resignedly, she reached for the flowers and brought them to her nose, inhaling deeply as she pondered Derek Vanguard, Lord of Braddock Hall. For the life of her she couldn’t picture him picking flowers from Emmon’s garden. But the thought of him doing so made her smile. He was an exasperating man, she thought wearily. Also pig-headed and full of himself, the worst kind of man. And yet sadly she couldn’t wait for their next encounter. She was falling for the man, falling hard and fast.

~~~~

Derek leaned back in his chair and glanced from Hugo to Matti. “Suppose the two of you tell me what you are up to.”

Matti and Hugo looked at each other with feigned innocence and then back at Derek with identical ignorant expressions.

“Do not play the doltish fools with me,” Derek said. “I have known you both since I was but a child. So tell me what harebrained scheme the two of you are plotting now.”

“Pray tell, my lord, whatever do you mean?” Matti asked with exaggerated innocence.

Derek shook his head. “The two of you have plotted and schemed your way through life. Matti,” he added sharply, “I seem to recall a time when you gathered enough spiders to scare away an army, placing them in a certain maid’s bedchamber. And why? Because a beautiful fair maiden had batted her thick lashes at your burly warrior over there.” He gestured with his chin toward Hugo.

A subtle smile tugged at Matti’s lips, obviously recalling that day with great satisfaction. Derek had been nine and most helpful in gathering the ugly eight-legged creatures. After the deed was done the maid had dared not look at Hugo again, and, in fact, went back to her parents, not bothering to finish with her training at Braddock.

“And you, Hugo,” Derek barked.

Hugo was too busy frowning at his wife to take heed. Apparently his friend had not been aware of the spider incident. But Derek knew full well Hugo could still remember the maid he spoke of.

“‘Twas it not you, Hugo, who plotted to rid Braddock of a certain troubadour?”

Hugo’s eyes widened.

“What was his name?” Derek asked with feigned interest before answering his own question. “Ah, yes, Philip. I believe even you enjoyed the minstrel’s entertainment until the princely Philip managed to attract much of Matti’s attentions with his flattering poems and intriguing tales. If I do recall correctly it was you who began the scandalous whispers that the man preferred a masculine touch to that of a soft female.”