Page 11 of Taming the Earl (The Earls of the North #3)

A ll her life had been leading up to this moment. A life spent hiding in the shadows, flinching from the future, unsure of her rightful place. Now, standing in his arms, she felt free from the weight of worry. It was liberating, as if her belly was filled with warmth which bubbled up through the rest of her.

How could their bodies fit together so perfectly when he was a lord of the land and she just a nobody? When he was height and broad strength personified, and she scarcely came to his shoulders? It made no sense, but it was so. Like the sun rising in the east. With his hands on her body, she was whole.

She tilted up her face, daring to look directly into those piercing blue eyes which held command of England’s greatest castle.

“I will kiss you again,” she repeated.

His expression was open, as if she could dive straight through his eyes into his soul. Without allowing herself to consider it, Morwenna wound her small hands into his golden hair and brought his lips down towards hers. They met with gentleness, but that was not what she sought. Not now, when such passion flamed in her blood. Impatiently, she tugged his head closer, tingling with gratification when her urgency found a response. With an audible moan, he pressed his mouth upon hers, parting her lips with his tongue and sweeping her against him with strong arms which lifted her part-way off the grass. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as if they had prior permission and he slotted her against him, just so.

Morwenna felt her limbs turn liquid, melting into him she was. His mighty forearms gripped her, steady and safe. The chill of the evening left her entirely, even though his cloak was slowly slipping from her body. With every probe of his tongue, she knew a jolt of warmth and excitement. And a delicious, twisting ache deep in her lower belly.

“Ah Morwenna,” he said gruffly, breaking away. “You undo me with your words and your kisses.” He set her down gently, though his large hands still cupped her cheeks.

Did his fingers tremble against her flesh?

She could not answer him for she had no words. Slowly, the world came back into focus. She heard Fauvel’s heavy breathing as he grazed beside them. Woodsmoke from the castle fires drifted through the evening air.

She was standing in the embrace of the Earl of Wolvesley.

But when she opened her eyes and beheld his face, inches from hers, his status no longer defined him. He was a man, like any other. Nay, he was a good man. One who protected his mother and would extend the same to her.

“I do not even know you by your given name,” she said.

Immediately she regretted her bold words. He was the Earl of Wolvesley; how could she address him as anything else?

But he only smiled, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek bone. “It is Angus.”

Emboldened, she spoke what was in her heart. “May I call you Angus, when we are together?”

An unreadable expression passed over his eyes. “Aye, I should like that.” He paused, heaving a regretful sigh. “But Morwenna, we cannot be together. I cannot take advantage of you.”

He was pulling away, leaving her cold and exposed. But in truth, despite the world of difference between them, it was not Angus who had taken advantage of her that night. It was Morwenna, who had confronted him with a dangerous truth and been met with naught but integrity and compassion.

When he could so easily have refuted her claims, walked away, cast her into the dungeons.

Drawing deep on an inner strength she didn’t know she had, Morwenna laid a restraining hand on his arm.

“You said you would protect me.”

“And I will. I have given you my word.” Again, he was extracting himself from their close embrace. “You will be safe in Wolvesley.” His lips creased upwards into a slight smile, the metal of his mail shirt glinting in the fading light. “Though if you kiss me like that, I cannot promise that you will be safe with me.”

How could she be anything but? He was wealth and power intermixed with kindness. Strength and softness combined. He had intoxicated her.

“Mayhap I do not want to be safe with you.” Her voice shook with her own audacity. “Not in the way I think you mean.”

It was true. Those far-gone days with Robin aside, she had lived a virtuous and obedient life, but it had brought her no joy. No comfort.

She had been right to think her life in Wolvesley had come to an end. In a way it had. This was a new beginning. She had dared voice her truth and it had brought her more than she’d dreamed. Not only to a place of protection, but one where her limbs tingled with life.

He ducked his forehead until it touched with hers. “Do not tempt me further, lass.” His hands went to her hips, holding her steady. “Do you know what you say?”

Aye, she did, in some way at least. Morwenna had grown up in the countryside, long understanding the so-called mysteries of creation. And she could not proclaim herself an innocent after what had passed between her and Robin back in Escafeld.

Nor did she need to. Innocence was for virtuous maidens seeking marriage. Not outcast village girls, wanting only a peaceful life.

Why should she not welcome a little adventure along the way? Some affection to counter her loneliness? Some joy to warm her heart?

Morwenna breathed him in. Whilst her mind raced with questions, her body wanted only one thing.

“I do know what I say,” she whispered. She met the intensity of his gaze. “Does that shock you?”

If surprise flickered across his blue eyes, it was only for a moment. “I am not one to be easily shocked,” he assured her.

It was as if she stood on the edge of a precipice. If she took a step forward, she would either fall to the depths or soar into the air. But she would never know unless she took that step.

Her hands travelled over his muscular shoulders and down his arms. His response was a sharp intake of breath as his eyelids fluttered closed. She had not been expecting to glimpse such vulnerability in him, even though it lasted for less than a heartbeat. It was a moment in which her own heart turned over, not with lust or anticipation, but with tenderness.

And in that brief second, a warning slid into her mind.

This is a man who could break my heart.

But not if she took steps to keep it safe.

“I fear you are right,” she said hesitantly, into the still night air. “We cannot be together.” To soften her words, she slid her hands down over his shirtsleeves until her fingers joined with his.

“I fear that too. But I do not want to walk away from here and think that I will never again look upon your face, or speak with you,” he countered, urgency infecting his voice.

“Nor do I.” She paused. She could hardly bear the idea of turning her back on such recently discovered joy. She groped for something, anything to offer. “I will continue to train your horse.”

“’Tis not enough.” He cupped her hands inside his, sending warmth all the way through her. “I desire your company. Not to merely watch you from afar.”

Strength passed to her from the warmth of his palms. Untethered, Fauvel walked a few paces from the paddock gate, but Morwenna knew he would not run away.

And nor would she.

“If company is what you ask of me, I would be pleased to provide it.” She paused, hesitant even now to use his familiar name. “Angus,” she breathed out, finally.

He brought her fingertips to his lips and pressed on them gently. “Then I shall find a way.”

*

God’s Bones it had felt right to hold her in his arms. And her lips, so sweet and tentative, they had almost been his undoing.

Almost.

He had been right to break off that kiss, before the passion rising within him became impossible to deny. What was it about Morwenna that made him abandon his self-control? The girl could calm a wild horse, but in the same breath she inflamed his senses. His show of restraint had taken a mighty effort; one that left him trembling even now, hours later.

Angus had escorted Morwenna back to the stable yard and then walked swiftly, head down, back to the keep and his own bedchamber. He wanted neither wine nor entertainment this night. He wanted only to recapture every moment of that astonishing conversation and their wondrous kiss.

He was filled with a restless energy meaning he couldn’t sit still. So he paced over the sumptuous rugs in his room, striding past his polished clothes chests and swivelling on his heel once he reached the window, only to begin the circuit again. Flickering candles cast a golden-hued light around the room and fresh rushes cast the scent of lavender into the air; but relaxation had never been further from his mind.

She was no traditional temptress, with painted lips and a low-cut gown. And yet she had enchanted him utterly, despite her modest demeanour. All he could think of were her beautiful eyes and silvery-blonde hair; of how he simultaneously wished to keep her safe from all harm, yet also to explore all of her body with all of his.

Desire , that was the size of it. He paused, one hand on his walnut bed frame, as the realisation sank in. He wanted her; like he had never wanted anyone before.

But if he bedded her, it would be an abuse of power.

God’s Bones, he could not allow that to happen.

Seized with frustration, he lifted the earthenware pitcher of ale from a small side table and poured himself a beaker. But the ale tasted sour and unpleasant in his mouth.

Wine , that was what he needed. He had been wrong to dismiss it. He should ring for strong wine to chase these relentless thoughts from his mind and bring him peace.

But Lucan had withstood the heartbreak of losing his wife and child without resorting to liquor. Would Angus be undone where his brother had stood firm and strong?

Angus banged the beaker down with such force that foaming ale slopped over the sides and pooled on the table.

The physical irritations he could handle. They were naught that a gallop on horseback, or even a sword-fighting session with the knights wouldn’t fix. The source of his pain was something different. He groped for the word, leaning against his plastered wall and gazing unseeingly at the darkened window opposite.

This pain, this frustration, this unceasing desire did not just live in his physical self. It seemed welded to his emotions. To the very essence of his being.

He desired Morwenna not simply because of her rosy lips and gentle curves, but because of her glowing inner strength and quiet courage. Because she did not flinch from the truth, however harsh. And because when her eyes met his, nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

He desired her with his very soul. And that wasn’t something he could solve with strong wine or vigorous exercise.

It wasn’t something he could deny, however much he might wish to deny it.

Angus sank down into a padded chair, crossing his long legs at the knee and propping his aching head onto his hands. Fleetingly it crossed his mind that he could send the maid away. Out of sight, out of mind, however impossible it sounded.

But that could not be, for he had offered her the protection of Wolvesley.

And what of Emelia? His betrothed. The intended mother of his heir.

An heir that Wolvesley needed, as much now as ever before.

Angus gnashed his teeth together, swearing quietly. Most problems he could overcome, either with dedication or intellect. This challenge too would pass, in time. But here and now, he was a man almost brought to his knees with frustration.

He must spend time with Morwenna; yet for temptation to be held at bay, they should not be alone together. He dared not visit her in the circular paddock. And God’s Bones; he could not ask her to come to his solar, however much the idea appealed.

He would deny himself her body, aye. But not her company.

He craved that as much as the other.

The endless night brought him no peace, only more heavy pacing of the floor, but by first light he had his answer.

The Vaulters of Volterfordas.

His Seneschal had brought word of the travelling troupe some days earlier, though at the time Angus had been too distracted to pay much heed. But before the morning fires were lit, a messenger was dispatched on horseback to York; the last known destination of fearless folk who performed daring gymnastics on horseback. The lad returned at luncheon, pink-cheeked with excitement, pleased to be bearing good news into the great hall.

“They are coming here directly,” he piped, bowing low and holding out a scroll for Angus to take.

Standing before the fireplace, Angus unfurled it with a flourish, his keen eyes skimming the untidy scrawl.

“Excellent,” he murmured, flipping the lad a coin for his troubles and nodding to the Seneschal who was waiting nearby. “See that preparations are made.”

The Seneschal cleared his throat. “Will I send out the usual invitations, my lord?”

Angus made a show of deliberation, one hand tugging at his beard. “I think not on this occasion.” He tapped his booted foot on the stone-flagged floor, as if the idea was coming fresh into his mind. “The workers here in Wolvesley have served us most faithfully during this difficult summer. I wish to reward them for their loyalty. Let us make this celebration one for the people to enjoy.”

The Seneschal inclined his head, his expression inscrutable. “We will invite the servants?”

Angus waved his hand loftily. “The servants, the cooks, the carpenters, the grooms.” He paused. “Most especially all who work with horses should be given the chance to witness these spectacular riders.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“I will even sit amongst them, so that I might better hear their opinions.” Angus banged his hands together, brimming with entirely sincere enthusiasm for his plan.

He would sit beside Morwenna and watch the daring spectacle. He would breathe the scent of her hair and feel her excitement, all with due propriety, for dozens of others would be right there with them.

It wasn’t much, but with his whole being burning for her company, it was a great deal better than nothing.