Taken and Seduced (7 page)

She laughed. “You men seem to think women are used to the freedom to decide our own path. We are seldom allowed to choose our futures. If not marriage to a man I hardly know, then service to God. There is not much difference, when one is given no choice.”

“But you give up the possibility of happiness and children,” he said, his face full of disbelief. Adam glared at him, and Robert quickly amended, “I mean no disrespect, I just thought all women wanted to be mothers, and would be sad not to have the opportunity.”

Her expression smoothed into bemusement. “No man has ever asked such forthright questions of me. ’Tis refreshing. But aye, I would have liked a child of my own. For now, I help my sister, Matilda, care for her babe. It eases me in its own way. But why should I mourn for the life I know I will not have? All that will do is make
me—and everyone around me—miserable. I will not live like that. One can choose to be happy and content.”

Such a thing was foreign to Adam’s very nature. Choose to be content? When there had been wrongs done to his family? He would not be able to live with himself if he did nothing.

Robert seemed to be mulling the same thoughts, because Florrie had to say his name twice to capture his attention.

“Aye, my lady?”

“You are a younger brother, Robert. Do you not have to be content with your lot?”

“But I cannot change that.”

She only cocked her head as she smiled at him.

“Oh, well, your point is that you cannot change what your family insists you do,” he said.

“Exactly. And I am content.”

“I am more than content to be the younger brother.” Robert jerked his thumb at Adam. “He is not content.”

“I have noticed that,” Florrie said.

Adam ignored them.

She continued, “He feels the need to protect you in some way.”

“Aye, that’s true,” Robert said agreeably.

Adam’s shoulders were stiff with tension. He didn’t like the discussion leading to things he didn’t want raised in front of Florrie. Although he may trust her not to leave, he did not trust her with the truth of his family legacy.

“He tells me that your brother Paul has gone off to find his fortune.”

“Aye, that’s true.”

Robert’s usually glib smile was a shadow of itself, and Adam understood why. Robert and Paul, only a year apart by birth, had always been close. But Paul was a driven man, and Robert went along with whatever happened.

“You did not want to go with him?”

Robert shot her a grin. “I was
content
where I was.”

They shared a laugh.

“And where was that?” she asked, her inflection staying as melodious as always.

Adam glanced sharply at Robert, but his brother had been well trained.

“You do not need to know such things, my lady,” Robert chided her.

She heaved a sigh. “I can try. The mystery of your family calls to me. I shall keep asking questions, and you stop me when you need to.”

“’Tis not a game, Florrie,” Adam said, keeping his tone serious. “Much as we might trust you to remain with us, you are Martindale’s daughter. You will not be permitted to know everything about us.”

“Not even why you’re so determined to challenge my father?”

Robert’s usually cheerful face grew solemn. “’Tis too sad to speak of on such a beautiful day.”

Florrie’s open face showed every emotion. Adam could see worry and sympathy in her changeable eyes. She would show him pity if she knew everything, and he wouldn’t stand for that.

T
hat evening, it was far easier to find a grove of trees to shelter them near a river. As they rode along the embankment, looking for the perfect place to conceal them, Adam could not miss Florrie’s excited glances at the water. He guessed she wanted to bathe before she donned her new garments, but never once did she ask him for such a boon. She was
content
to wait for his word.

She made no sense to him. They ate their meal while the sun still hung low in the sky, savoring the duck Michael had snared by the river and then roasted. Florrie had plucked the feathers while Michael had prepared the fire and the roasting spit. Adam had watched their camaraderie with amusement. Michael did not give his loyalty easily, and even now he withheld his true attention. But Florrie was growing even on him.

After the meal, Adam was helpless to stop watching as Florrie licked her fingers to taste
every last bit of juicy goodness. The sated expression on her face made his groin tight with desire. But he was used to ignoring his own discomforts, and he had more than enough reason to this time. Florrie was the daughter of his enemy—and she was to be a nun. That was enough reason for him to remain as distant from her as possible.

But then all his good intentions went up in smoke.

“Adam?” Florrie called from across the fire.

“Aye?”

“Might I bathe in the river tonight?” Before he could answer, she added quickly, “without a guard?”

“You may,” he said. By the light of gratitude in her eyes, one would have thought he’d bestowed the greatest jewels of the kingdom upon her. When he should have been relieved to grant her something pleasant, he felt…guilty for doing so little. But she was his prisoner, and she was glad to be so. Why should he feel guilty that he could not offer her more?

Without asking any other favors, she found the soap and cloth in his saddlebag, took her new garments, and disappeared through the stand of low-hanging willow trees. Adam had deliberately chosen the place for the way the trees would offer her privacy for her bath.

And he hoped his brother never found out such a truth, or Adam would never hear the end of it.

The three men finished their meals in companionable silence. Bees buzzed through the humid evening air, and the setting sun gave the land a mellow orange glow. Adam felt…content.

Michael cleared his throat. “My lord, do you still plan to enter York on the morrow?”

“At dawn. I’ll try not to wake Florrie, and I’ll return before midmorning.”

Suddenly, her scream rent the peaceful air, and all three men jumped to their feet. Robert and Michael moved north and south of her position to come in from above and below her on the river. Adam headed straight through the willow trees, his feet making no sound as he sought out each perfect footfall. It was second nature to him now. His ears were alert for the sounds of men or battle, but all he heard was Florrie’s desperate breathing. He unsheathed both his sword and dagger.

When he came out on the embankment beside the river, she was laboring to run through thigh-deep water, awkwardly limping, sending terrified looks over her shoulder. Except for trees lining both sides of the river, he saw nothing else but her—and she was naked.

Her long brown hair streamed down her body, hiding one breast and curling around the other as if to frame it. It hung all the way to her hips, yet revealed the dark hair at the juncture of her thighs.

He’d never seen a woman entirely nude before. And it was probably a good thing, because he was having trouble remembering even how to speak. However would he have concentrated on anything else?

His voice sounded unused as he croaked, “Florrie?”

“Snake!” she screamed again, letting all within a hundred paces of them know what she feared.

He prayed that Robert and Michael heard her explanation and did not emerge to embarrass her further. But if she was embarrassed, her fear was worse, because when she finally reached land, she kept up her limping run straight at him. He dropped his weapons just as she flung herself into his arms as if she’d crawl up his body to flee the beast that terrorized her.

His hands were full of wet Florrie: a small, plump breast, the curve of her hip, then her smoothly muscled legs as she wrapped herself around him. He caught both of her thighs, felt the heated warmth of her womanhood pressed against his groin. Her breasts seared his chest as she flung her arms around his neck and held on. He put one arm beneath her hips and the other around her back. Damn, but his hands were shaking where they touched her wet flesh.

“Snake,” she whispered against his neck, shaking.

Even her warm breath made him shudder.

Holding her against him, he stepped closer to the water and tried to focus on her fear rather than her nudity. “I see nothing except a stick floating in the current.”

She stiffened. “What?”

He turned sideways, so that she could view the river without twisting her body.

Tentatively, she raised her head. He gently traced his finger down her cheek, pushing her hair aside so that she could see. He felt her sag when she saw the long black stick.

“It does look like a snake at a quick glance,” he offered, trying to keep his breathing from betraying his desire.

“I only
gave
it a glance,” she whispered, sagging against him in relief.

Her lips were so close to his bare throat that he stopped breathing altogether. They stood frozen as even more of the sun’s rays disappeared beneath the horizon at his back.

Then she slowly looked up at him, and things became worse. Her breathing was still ragged; he could now see her breasts rise and fall, pink nipples hard little buds where they rubbed against his tunic. He wanted to taste them. Her eyes were wide and uncertain, even as they dropped to his mouth, just above hers.

“Oh my,” she whispered.

Daughter of his enemy—future nun.

None of that mattered when she was warm and wet and naked in his arms, her ankles linked
behind his back. He slid both trembling hands down to the round globes of her buttocks, and pressed her even tighter against him, his erection cradled against the depth of her. Her eyes half closed, and she shuddered.

Daughter of his enemy—future nun.

Adam was not a man to forget what really mattered. Disappointed in his behavior, he took a deep, fortifying breath, then lifted her away from his hips. She released her legs and slid to the ground to stand.

She kept herself pressed against him, and he knew that it was due to embarrassment, not passion. But such knowledge didn’t seem to matter to his body. With his hands on her bare back, he enjoyed the feel of her wet hair tangled in his fingers. He wanted to pull her harder against him, revel in her breasts pillowed against his chest.

“Can anyone else…see me?” she whispered.

He bent and spoke softly, wanting to smell her hair. “Nay, ’tis only I.”

She trembled, and he finally, reluctantly, removed his arms altogether.

“Turn around, please,” she whispered.

He did. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I do not think it a good idea. Please accept my apology. I promise not to overreact again.”

“There is nothing to apologize for.” He cleared his throat as he picked up his weapons. “I will see you back at the fire.”

Florrie could not stop staring at his broad back until he disappeared through the trees. And then she ran into the water and dove beneath, hoping to cool her heated flesh. Oh God, what had just happened? She understood nothing of what her body was feeling. She only knew that she seemed not to be able to think around Adam.

Coming to the surface, she rinsed her hair once more. She scrubbed at her body as if it would erase the feel of him—but nothing would. She’d shamelessly wrapped herself about him. What must he be thinking of her?

She already knew, she thought. He’d pushed himself between her thighs, and the sensation of that was something she’d never experienced before. She’d barely stopped herself from moaning over it. Was this…desire?

Thank God he’d been honorable enough to stop when she’d been unable to. She groaned and covered her face with wet hands. The situation was truly desperate when she thought her
kidnapper
more honorable than herself. How was she going to face him? And what if the other two men had seen her?

She took a long time dressing, donning her necklace with its family pendant, putting on her new smock and gown even though she would have to sleep in them. She washed her previous garments with a ferocity that did nothing to settle her uneasy mind, then spread them across shrubbery to dry.

At last, when she could barely see any longer, she made her way back through the willow trees to the fire—and Adam. She glanced at him, only to see that he was paying particular attention to stoking the fire. Was this just as awkward for him? Someone had spread out a blanket, and she sat on it as far away from him as she could.

But her hair was still wet, and she could not go to sleep like that. She still had Adam’s comb, so she leaned closer to the fire and began to comb through the wet strands of her hair, spreading them so they could dry. She eventually faltered, for no one was speaking. She looked up to find Robert grinning at her.

“So how was the snake?” he asked, before dissolving into laughter as he exchanged a glance with Michael.

Florrie couldn’t help but smile. “Very well, I was a fool many times over. Adam pointed out that it was a stick. Remember, I have never bathed in a river before.”

“Regardless, you were wise to be aware of your surroundings,” Michael said.

Though she was still embarrassed, she was glad they could tease her, happy with the camaraderie. Robert began to talk to Michael about a tournament he’d competed in, and she listened with interest.

Adam didn’t join in. Through the veil of her hair, she studied him. His face, flickering with the firelight, was as impassive as ever, coldly beau
tiful in its severe way. His beard had still only grown in lightly, but it shadowed his face, making him look dangerous. What was he thinking? She realized that if he wanted to punish her father, he could easily abuse her, as many men would. But he was an honorable man.

How could she learn the truth about him?

At last, her hair was dry enough. Michael and Robert had already retired to their cloaks and blankets. When she stretched out on her side, Adam stiffened.

“Nay, ’tis warm enough tonight,” she said quickly. “My cloak will give me enough comfort. Surely you would sleep better without me.” She saw the lump that was Robert shake.

Adam gave his brother a frown before saying, “If you are certain…”

Relieved, she nodded. “I am. Good night, Adam.”

Long minutes passed, and she found herself trying to get comfortable. There was a lump beneath her hip. Although the air was warm, the cold from the ground seemed to seep slowly into her. Several shudders escaped her. And then she felt footsteps behind her, knew immediately who it was even before her cloak was lifted.

Adam slipped in behind her. “I was cold,” he said shortly.

She bit her lip to keep from chuckling, then sighed as the hot length of his body pressed up against her from behind. He felt so good. She
barely kept herself from snuggling deeper into the cradle of his hips. She heard his voice rumble in her ear and she shivered, but not with the cold.

“Please accept my apologies for my behavior earlier,” he said. “I have a man’s weaknesses, and they are worse where you’re concerned.”

She turned her head to look back at him. “You must know I do not believe you were at fault. I provoked you shamelessly.”

“You were frightened, and I took advantage of you.”

She tried to smile. “Maybe we are…uneasy with each other because we are together all the time. I am not used to such a thing, and…I think you are not either.”

“Though that may be true, ’tis a shameful thing to be unable to control oneself. I have never…had that problem before.”

“And I am not helping you by being cold every night.”

“Then we are in agreement that ’tis the constant togetherness that is bothering us.”

She winced, wondering why that explanation made her feel bad. “Agreed. And we will stop apologizing for the past—and stop blaming ourselves,” she added for his benefit.

“Very well.” He lowered his voice until it was only a rumble against her back. “Sleep well.”

With a sigh, she forced herself to relax, one muscle at a time, until at last the day’s journey caught up with her, and she fell asleep.

Adam had long ago been trained to awaken at whatever hour he needed to. He opened his eyes well before dawn, surprised to find that instead of Florrie’s back against him, she had turned in her sleep. She now snuggled against him, face first, one arm over his waist, one knee slid between his thighs. She breathed softly against his neck.

His body surged to life with a primitiveness that astounded him. He clenched every muscle and bit off a groan. Was this going to get worse each night? One morn he might wake up and find himself between her thighs!

But nay, he could not believe that. He was in control of his own body—even if she wasn’t in control of her own. There was sensuality buried beneath her prim nun’s surface, and he wondered if she even realized it. Very carefully, he slid his legs away from hers. She stirred and frowned, and as he looked down at her sweet face, he wanted to kiss her.

Suddenly, he felt eyes on him, and glanced up to see his brother sitting up, watching them. Adam froze for a moment, but Robert only grinned and shook his head.

Adam eased out from under the cloak and rolled to his feet. Ignoring his brother, he went through the trees to the stream to wash himself, using the first gray light of day to guide him. There were birds singing in the distance, and he tried to let the peace of the morn wash over him. It was dif
ficult. He heard the crack of a twig and whirled, then relaxed.

Robert had followed him. “She is growing comfortable with you, big brother.”

Adam knelt on the bank of the river and only gave Robert a frown before scrubbing his face. He shook the water away and said, “’Tis natural. She is an innocent woman, who thinks this journey is nothing but an adventure.”