Timeless Tales of Honor (41 page)

She couldn't pull away from him. His scent, leather and horses and pine, filled her nostrils and she felt her arms going about his neck, burying her face deeper and deeper into the crook of his shoulder. The tighter she clung, the more fiercely he held her.

This is dangerous
! Richmond's common sense screamed to him. But, God's Teeth, he'd never held anything so sweet and womanly in his entire life. He could smell the gardenias from the pomade she was so fond of making, pomade that had nearly cost her her life.

His face was in her hair, black silk that assaulted him more brutally than any warrior he had ever faced. His fingers began stroking her luscious mane of their own accord, winding themselves tightly within the strands. Before he realized it, he had her entire head gripped in his two massive hands.

Her weeping had ceased. Her face, free from the shielding comfort of his shoulder, was suddenly in front of him. He'd never beheld anything more beautiful in his entire life.

"My lord?"

It took Richmond a moment to realize that Arissa had not uttered the words. Her quivering rosy lips were inches from his own. He could feel her warm breath, the heat from her body.

"My lord?"

His eyes widened and he immediately dropped his hands from her head. Rising to his feet with shocking speed, Mossy was already in the door and Richmond heard it slam. He had no idea how long the old man had been watching them.

"Did you knock?" he demanded, more harshly than he should have.

Mossy did not pay him any attention. "Ye did not hear me," he dug about in his bag. "Arissa, how did ye burn yerself?"

Arissa was in a daze. She was shaking so violently that she could barely function much less answer a simple question. Mossy turned to her, his ancient eyes grazing her stunned expression.

"Riss?"

She drew in a deep breath that sounded more like a sob. Senses returning somewhat, she raised her eyes to him. "Wax," she whispered.

Richmond was standing across the room, attempting to recover his composure. He couldn't believe how close he had come to kissing her. He couldn't believe he had actually allowed himself to be placed in that position. What in the hell was he thinking?

Mossy was bent over Arissa's arm, examining the red blotches. After a brief look, he took a vial of salve from his bag and smeared it on the wounds. Arissa winced and tried to jerk her arm away, but he held up a curt finger.

"None of that!" he said sharply. Mossy had never known a day of irritation or anger in his life, and Arissa was shocked to hear his tone. Before she could apologize, the old man turned to Richmond. "Come and hold her still, my lord. She cannot move about while I am trying to apply this salve. It must be applied precisely."

Richmond did not hesitate, although he felt as if he were about to drown. He still was not recovered from the last time he'd touched her.

As Richmond reached the chair, Mossy pulled Arissa to her feet. "Sit, my lord, sit," as Richmond moved to do so, Mossy gently eased a very stiff Arissa onto the knight's lap. "There now, lass. Sit still. Richmond, put your arms about her so she doesn't move. I cannot have her moving about, disrupting my work."

Richmond swallowed hard. With the greatest reluctance, one massive arm snaked around Arissa's slender waist while the other held her arm still. He could feel her shaking violently underneath his grasp. Or mayhap it was his own quivering. He couldn't tell.

"That's the way, my lord," Mossy said softly, all of the fire suddenly gone from his tone. "Hold her tightly. Very tightly."

The old man began to carefully apply a salve that had a burnt smell to it. He seemed to be putting a good deal of time and concern into a task that could have just as easily been accomplished in a few seconds. Richmond watched, Arissa quivered, as Mossy continued to stroke her arm gently.

"Hold her still now," Mossy said, replacing the cork in the salve bottle and moving to place it in his bag. He continued to rummage about in his satchel for some time while Richmond maintained Arissa in a motionless position.

Seconds stretched into minutes as Mossy busied himself in his bag. Richmond could smell Arissa's gardenias and they threatened to undo him. Her waist, slim and long, was barely an armful for him, and her rounded buttocks seated on his hard thighs were mayhap the greatest torture he had ever known.

'Twas silly, truthfully. He couldn't count the times that Arissa had sat on his lap, giggling as he tickled her or sleeping peacefully in his arms. When she had been very small, she almost always fell asleep in his arms. She was afraid of the dark and he had made her feel safe. Odd, he thought, that a situation that had occurred habitually for several years was suddenly the most erotic event he could ever recall.

If Richmond was feeling vastly peculiar, it was nothing compared to Arissa's slow death. To feel him touching her, holding her, was bliss beyond compare. She'd been in this position before, seated on his lap while he told stories of battle or tales of fairies. She'd always relished the feel of him, the comfort of his closeness. But at this moment, she wished she were seated anywhere but upon his lap.

She knew he could feel her emotions, seeping through her skin and infecting him. He had always been highly intuitive of her emotions and she was positive he knew her innermost feelings. For the sake of her foolish emotions, she had never been more ashamed.

Mossy was spending an excessive amount of time digging through his bag. Arissa sat like a stone and Richmond's palms were beginning to sweat.

"What are you doing?" Richmond finally asked, his voice strangely tight.

Mossy did not say anything for a moment. Then, he chuckled. "God's Teeth. I have forgotten." He suddenly closed his bag and flashed them a toothless smile. "Sleep with the arm exposed to the air tonight, Riss. The salve should ease the pain and there is less of a chance that the wounds will blister."

Richmond and Arissa watched, open-mouthed, as Mossy escaped the bower as silently and as swiftly as he had entered. Richmond swore he caught a glimmer of mischief in the aged brown eyes.

The bower door was left ajar. Arissa, acutely aware of Richmond's heated body against her, felt her cheeks flushing mightily. As discreetly as she could manage, she slipped from his lap and nearly stumbled in her haste to put distance between them.

Richmond watched her, disappointed and relieved at the same time. Clearly, there was no mistaking the flush to her cheeks and he knew it was because she was angry with him. Angry he had clutched her so intimately, angry that his manners had been sorely lacking. Had Mossy not interrupted them when he did, there was no telling how badly he would have behaved.

What puzzled him, however, was why Mossy returned them to a position that was nearly as intimate as the first. With Arissa sitting on his lap, clutched against his chest, it was almost as if Mossy wanted them to be close. As if he suspected what was occurring within Richmond's heart and sought to torture him. Crazy old bastard.

He rose from the chair, clearing his throat. "Does it feel better?"

She nodded, unable to look at him. "Soothed, at least."

He gazed at her dark head, wondering if he should apologize for their close contact. He'd never apologized for all of the innocent occasions in which she had been enfolded in his arms, or seated upon his thighs. Why should he apologize for something that was completely natural?

"Riss, are you all right?" Regine was suddenly in the doorway, her blue eyes wide at her older sister.

Arissa smiled bravely at the younger girl, relieved with the diversion. Richmond's presence had her shaken. "Fine, Regine. Mossy put a bit of slime on my arm that should heal it properly."

Regine's eyes were big on Richmond. "You saved Bart."

He smiled wearily at the girl. "I prevented him from breaking his artful neck."

"He has a bruise on his bottom the size of a melon," Regine said happily. "Mother thinks he has ruptured a vein."

Richmond snorted. "More than likely he’s managed to damage his brain, considering his intelligence is lodged in his arse." When Regine giggled, he patted her fondly on the head. "Let me guess, you curious little wench. You saw the bruise, did you not?"

"Of course I did," Regine tossed her long blond hair flippantly.

Richmond shook his head reprovingly. "I was hoping you would outgrow this intensely curious phase you have been going through, but I see that I have been wrong. I told you no more spying on the soldiers, no more kissing the serving wenches in order to learn their techniques, and you were not to demand explicit stories from the stable boys any longer."

Regine avoided his gaze, wandering over to her older sister. "I do not kiss the serving wenches any longer. Just the boys. I am developing my own techniques."

"No more of that. I shall blister you again if I have to."

Regine hid herself behind Arissa, pressing against her sister's back in hopes of evading Richmond's piercing stare. "You are not my father."

"Hmm," Richmond cocked a dark eyebrow. "I have kept your disgraceful secrets long enough; any more tales of your promiscuous streak and your father shall know the truth of it. You are too wild for your own good, Regine Margaret. 'Twould do you well to learn to behave as your elder sister does."

Regine's plump arms wound around Arissa's waist. It looked as if the eldest sibling had grown a new pair of limbs. Richmond met Arissa's gaze, unguarded now that she was no longer the focus of his attention. Silently, she implored him to ease his assault against the inquisitive young girl.

As always, he would do as she asked, audibly expressed or not. He'd always given in to her desires without a struggle. It did not prevent him, however, from giving Arissa a long look as he moved towards the door.

"My lady, I shall leave you to retire. Next time, you would do well to heed my orders so that you do not find yourself injured," he peered around Arissa, meeting Regine's pouting gaze. "Good eve to you, my lady."

His boot falls faded down the hall. Arissa stood in the center of the room, her sister wound around her waist as if the raven-haired beauty could protect her from Richmond's wrath. Regine had always been terrified of the massive knight with the deep, growling voice. Especially when he disapproved of her slightly perverted juvenile experimentation.

But Arissa had never been terrified of him. At least, not in the literal sense. Even though her arm throbbed with burn and her head swam with confusion, she was not nearly as shaken as she had been moments before. In fact, she was aware of a rather pleasant mood settling.

Something had occurred, although she was not sure what, exactly. The only element she was able to decipher was the fact that Richmond's touch had gone beyond the usual fatherly gesture. And his beautiful eyes, barely lined with his age, had spoken to her. Words she had never heard before.

Oddly, her confusion and shame gave way to a most unexpected smile.

A
rissa awoke
to the sound of Richmond's voice. Rolling over in bed, she thought mayhap he was in the corridor speaking to the servants. It took her a moment to realize that he was out in the bailey, shouting orders to the troops.

She lay still a moment, listening to his voice and feeling herself wash with the familiar pride she had come to associate with Richmond. He was so mighty, so massive and powerful, and he controlled hundreds of men with absolutely no effort at all. They nearly knocked themselves over in their eagerness to complete his bidding.

She would have been quite happy to have lounged in bed all morn, listening to the sound of his voice. But Penelope, Emma and Regine had other ideas; suddenly, her bower door flew open and a huge copper tub was being shoved across the scrubbed floor. As Arissa sat up in bed, Penelope and Emma had several servants filling the vat with steaming water as Regine emerged into the chamber, carrying the surcoat that would adorn her sister this day.

"Do not get water on it, Regine!" Emma scolded as she passed too close to the tub. "The silk will stain!"

Regine stuck her tongue out at the older girl and proceeded to hang the surcoat, very carefully, on the wardrobe.

Arissa sighed with satisfaction at the sight of her new surcoat; of two-color silk, the very latest fashion, it was a form-fitting piece of green fabric with the contrasting shade being a pale, iridescent green. The scoop neckline clung to her delicate shoulders while the long, wide sleeves nearly swept the ground when she walked. A silver link belt with four rough emeralds would adorn her slim waist.

Regine stood back and admired the surcoat with satisfaction. "'Twill be magnificent with your eyes, Riss."

Arissa refused to waste any time. Leaping from the bed, she plunged into the scalding water and was the prompt recipient of a completely brutal scrubbing. Penelope washed her hair while Emma and Regine soaped her body, all of them chattering endlessly on the silliest of subjects. But the most prevalent topic, understandably, was the excitement of the day.

"I have heard Tad de Rydal is most dashing," Emma said with a hint of hope. "I have not heard if he’s betrothed. Have you, Riss?"

Arissa shook her black head, wild and untamed with Penelope's drying. "I have not heard a lick about him. Pen?"

Penelope's reply was interrupted by Regine's pondering. "I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. I wonder if his buttocks are as fuzzy as Bart's."

Emma shrieked while Arissa and Penelope erupted into giggles. "No kissing, Regine," Arissa reminded her sternly. "Remember what Richmond said."

Regine thrust her chin up and turned away. "He’s not my lord and master. I do not have to listen to him."

"You'd better," Emma said with a smirk. "Certainly you remember what happened when he caught you in the livery with the stable servant. Neither you nor the boy could sit for a week."

The three older girls giggled at Regine's expense. Always defiant, Regine scowled at the three of them. "It was worth the spanking to learn the feel of a man's tongue against my...."

The smiles, the giggling, immediately ceased. Three pairs of huge, rounded eyes stared at the twelve-year-old. Only Arissa was brave enough to ask.

"Against your
what
?"

Regine was usually quite proud of her growing list of experiences. But gazing at the expressions of the older women, she was suddenly regretful for her outburst. With a faint flush mottling her ears, she finished scrubbing Arissa's foot.

"Surely you have kissed a man, Riss. Sometimes they kiss with their tongues."

Arissa shook her head slowly. "I have never kissed a man. Sweet St. Jude, Regine, you are only twelve. Why must you be so eager to indulge in adult pleasures?"

Regine's hot gaze came up from her task. "Because I want to know. And I shall learn, any way I can so that my prospective husband will not be displeased that I am ignorant."

"Your prospective husband will not want a trollop that has seen service like a well-used horse."

"You only say that because you must enter the cloister. You must be pure 'else God will not want you," she turned her attention to Penelope. "Surely you have kissed Daniel. Has not he kissed you with his tongue?"

Penelope flushed a dull red and abruptly turned away, fumbling with the linen towels. Arissa passed a glance at her startled friend. "What Daniel and Penelope do is none of your affair, Regine. Moreover...."

But Regine was ignoring her sister. Instead, she was on her feet, her blue eyes fully focused on the blushing maiden. "I have watched you and Daniel at times. In fact, I followed the two of you the other night when you left the dining hall early. He took you into the stable and...."

Penelope suddenly whirled around, her face bright and flushed. "Regine! How dare you..!"

Arissa was climbing out of her bath, fully intent on defending Penelope from her tactless sister. "You should not have been spying on them! I am going to tell mother!"

"But he put his mouth on her breasts," Regine insisted to her sister, as if the intimate action was a great mystery. "I want to know what it feels like, too. Penelope, was it wonderful? From the noise you were making, I couldn't tell."

Arissa's eyes widened; she did not dare look at Penelope. Swallowing hard, she gave her sister a shove toward the door. "Leave us, Regine. I shall not hear such slanderous lies."

"They're not lies!" Regine insisted, nearly slipping on a puddle of water. "What's wrong, Riss? Why are you angry?"

Arissa gave her sister another push, completely ignorant of her slick, naked body. "Out, out!"

Frustrated and puzzled, Regine quit the room in a huff. Embarrassed on behalf of her sister's mouth and her friend's invaded privacy, she turned hesitantly to Penelope.

"I am sorry, Pen," she said softly. "You know she’s.... well, she simply doesn't see anything wrong with what she does sometimes."

Penelope was staring at the floor. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to meet Arissa's gaze. "I suppose I should not be ashamed, truly. After all, Daniel and I plan on marrying. Some day."

Emma was still on her knees by the tub of cooling water. Her soft blue eyes were wide. "Did he really touch you.... there?"

Penelope looked to the younger girl as Arissa gathered a coarse towel and began to dry herself. "Aye, he did," she swallowed again. "I know that I should not have let him, but...."

"You do not have to explain yourself to us, Pen," Arissa cut her short, forcing her embarrassed friend focus on the duty of drying her raven locks. "We know that you and Daniel love each other."

Penelope vigorously toweled Arissa's hair. "Certainly, I love him. I know he loves me, too, although he’s never truly told me."

"Have you done anything else?" Emma asked, her voice small.

Penelope's movements slowed. "I have not lost my maidenhood, if that's what you mean."

Arissa cast Emma a quelling look. Fortunately, Emma understood the implication and let the subject go. But she was still terribly curious and, in a sense, awed. Penelope was entering into the mysterious world of adult lust and she, too, wanted to know what it was like.

Richmond's voice suddenly drifted in from the bailey, wafting through the lancet windows of the bower and penetrating the oiled cloth curtains. Arissa heard his voice and found herself staring at the covered windows even as Penelope directed her to sit by the weak flame of the hearth.

Hearing his voice reminded her of the previous day, the first day in months that they had seen one another. Memories of his arms around her as she cried, of his hands in her hair, filled her full of warm and giddy thoughts. And the way he had gazed into her eyes before Mossy interrupted them had been nothing short of astounding. If she did not know better, she would have sworn he wanted to kiss her. Or mayhap she had merely hoped their wants were the same.

Arissa was barely aware of Penelope's ministrations as the young woman combed the drying black locks, moving woodenly when Emma secured her new surcoat. Her thoughts were focused on Richmond as she gazed at her reflection in the polished glass mirror, unnoticing of the delightful cleavage the dress managed to display. With her narrow waist and link belt, her breasts appeared even larger than their natural state and she took a second glance, forgetting Richmond for the moment as she tried to lessen the impact of her deliciously full assets.

Arissa did not like the attention they drew from men and women alike. She had developed at an early age, beginning her menses before most girls even knew what the cycle meant. One morning she had awoken to the largest breasts she had ever seen; or, at least, she thought it was somewhat of an overnight occurrence. She remembered crying into her mother's arms with embarrassment when she had overheard one of the serving wenches commenting on her ripe figure.

She never saw the serving wench again after that day. Rumor had it that the woman had been discharged and sent on her way. She had no way of knowing that Richmond had ordered the offending woman thrashed within an inch of her life and cast to the elements. A cruel punishment indeed, but there was nothing the Great Protector would not do for his charge.

Penelope fussed at her friend as she tugged at the magnificent surcoat, finally giving up and moving to style the raven-hued hair. As Arissa attempted to minimize her delicious assets, Penelope gathered the front of her hair and secured it within a silver clip at the back of her skull. Ebony tendrils of silken hair curled delicately about her face, framing her porcelain features.

But Arissa did not notice that, either. She was still fidgeting with the dress. "I look like I am harboring two overgrown melons underneath my surcoat," she complained.

Penelope and Emma passed a critical eye over their friend. "Riss, if I were fortunate enough to possess a figure like you, I would display it often enough to offend God himself,” Penelope’s voice was laced with envy. “Why must you act as if it is a curse?"

Arissa ceased struggling against breasts that simply were not going to shrink. She stared at herself. "I am too short. I look like a troll."

Emma shook her head and turned away. "You look like a goddess," she moved for the door and summoned the serving wenches to take the copper tub away. When the women busied themselves with emptying the water and mopping up the floor, Emma turned to find Arissa and Penelope still gazing at Arissa's reflection.

Emma put her hands on her hips. "Riss, you are perfect. Your breasts are round and ripe, your waist tiny, and your legs are shapely and beautiful. How can you see any differently?"

Arissa turned away from the mirror. "I just do, I guess. I am certainly not fishing for compliments from the two of you. What do I care what you magpies think?"

Outside, more shouts abound, announcing the approach of the first caravan of guests. One of the serving women had brought forth a bowl of porridge and a chunk of bread, but Arissa was too nervous to think of food. Her guests were arriving, people she was expected to greet, and her stomach was jumping madly.

"I must go," she smoothed at her surcoat again. "Father demands that I greet my company. Are you sure I look presentable?"

Penelope and Emma smiled at her. "Beautiful, Riss. Men will be falling all over themselves in their attempt to capture your attention," Emma said truthfully.

Arissa dared a small smile, quitting the room with her friends in tow. She was growing more excited with the prospect of her special day, thrilled to be mingling with people she hadn't seen in months. The list of events that would comprise the day before the grand celebration that eve was enough activities to fill an entire week.

As Penelope and Emma left her to go and change into their own appropriate garments, Arissa descended the stairs alone. So she presented a beautiful picture, did she? Strange, she never considered herself beautiful. But if her friends' words were truthful, if the men in attendance really would be trampling themselves in order to gain her attention, they were in for a rude awakening.

There was only one man whose attentions she yearned for. She wondered if Richmond would think she looked beautiful, too.

T
he first of
December had dawned amazingly bright and, in spite of the cool temperatures, promised to be a delightful day. A chill wind whipped the Lambourn banners in to a frenzy, blue and gold flapping madly on the battlements. Lambourn soldiers, their mail cleaned and their blue tunics fresh, paced their posts in vigilant preparation for the day.

Richmond was pleased with the organized uniformity. His own men, one hundred elite guards he had arrived with yesterday, were patrolling the woods and surrounding areas for thieves and bandits as the great houses of Berkshire, Oxfordshire, Dorset, Hampshire and Wiltshire arrived for a very special gala. Even though it was a one-day event, Richmond knew, most likely, that Lambourn could expect a keep-full of houseguests for three or four days.

Clad in polished armor and Henry's Leopards of England tunic, he made his rounds with Carlton to make sure posts were set and the sentries were vigilant.

"God has blessed my lady with a beautiful day for her birthday celebration," Carlton said, inhaling an unusually warm breath of December air. "I cannot remember when we have had such pleasant winter weather."

"Hold your tongue, Carlton. You shall jinx the day."

The knight laughed softly as they passed a clutter of old weapons and crates that Richmond immediately ordered removed. Obedient soldiers rushed to carry out the order as the two warriors made their way across the bailey en route to the stables, intent to make sure the stable master was well prepared for the onslaught of fine chargers and wagons.

William and Bartholomew exited the castle as the knights were crossing the courtyard, finely dressed in embroidered tunics with Lambourn's lion crest. William greeted Richmond amiably, nary a mention of the previous night when Bartholomew had nearly ended his foolish life. His son, however, refused to meet Richmond's eye, a strong indication that he was still feeling a major degree of embarrassment.