My Lady Faye (14 page)

“We will change to horses as soon as we can.” Gregory remained as calm as ever. “For now, I am taking bridle paths in the hope Calder will stick to the main road. He will overtake us as he rides for Anglesea. That way, your father can honestly deny he has Simon. We will follow by a roundabout route.”

It made sense, partly. “But if Calder stays at Anglesea, how will we return?”

“We could fight.” Simon stuck his head between them. “Nobody is better than Gregory with a sword.”

“I appreciate that, lad, but my fighting days have passed.”

Simon’s face fell. His face creased in a mighty frown. “You could fight for the church.”

“Fight for the church?”

Simon’s face cleared into a grin. “They need fighting men, too.”

“I shall think on it,” Gregory said. “In the meanwhile, why do you not lay down and see if you can get some sleep.”

“I could never sleep.” Simon bounced on his knees.

Gregory’s tone was steel in velvet. “Try.”

Simon pulled a face, but settled in the cart bed. A loud sigh came from his direction and then another.

Faye worked hard not to laugh.

Beside her, the corner of Gregory’s mouth twitched and he turned his head.

The cart moved into the still, dark night.

Simon fell silent.

Faye peeped over, and his eyes were shut. “How will we enter Anglesea?”

“You and Simon can remain with Aldous until I ascertain all is well at Anglesea. He will keep you safe until we can get you within Anglesea’s walls.” He had a beautiful smile. It softened the grave lines of his face and crinkled around the corners of his eyes and mouth. She didn’t see it that often, but it always drew an answering smile from Faye.

He caught her staring. “What is it?”

Faye shook her head and leant against his shoulder. Her words would only make him uncomfortable. “I am glad you are with me.”

He tensed, but stayed.

A girlish giggle bubbled in Faye’s chest. Simon was safe and they were on their way home. She owed Gregory everything. Faye closed her eyes and snuggled closer to the husband of her heart.

Imagine if it had been him as her groom she spied from her casement. How different her life would have been. The rumble of wheels against the dirt track vibrated through her. They might have been happy like Beatrice and Garrett, locked in an almost insufferable togetherness that barred the rest of the world. They could have had that, she and Gregory. This might have been their son sleeping behind them.

Gregory’s rough tunic rubbed her cheek. Under the tunic, his arm was as forged steel. His large hands held the traces loosely. Power resided in those hands and yet, they could be gentle as a lady’s maid. He always touched her with the utmost courtesy. How she longed for his touch to grow demanding, for him to caress her as a lover. Heat prickled over her skin and she lifted her head from his shoulder.

“My lady?” He searched her face for answers.

Her face heated and she turned and stared into the dark woods beside the cart. Always Gregory kept his composure, as calm and still as deep running water. From his steadiness, she drew peace and comfort. It also made her want to scream.

He never lost control. Even in Bess’s cottage, a part of him remained outside of himself, leading him away from temptation. Leading him away from her. Passion simmered beneath the surface like a banked inferno flaring in his dark gaze, hot enough to scorch. Then his virtuous meddler would rise and extinguish it. Somehow, the meddler always won. She had wept like a babe when he left Anglesea to join the monks.

He had stoically bowed to her and left. You could have cut gems on his clenched jaw that day.

“Do you never doubt?”

He jerked his head toward her. “What do you mean?”

“About being a monk. Do you never have doubts?”
Do you never look at me and ponder the same questions that drive me out of my mind?
She couldn’t say that, however.

“I have made my choice.” Jaw set, he stared over the bullock’s back.

“Aye, you have made your choice, but are you certain you have made the right choice?” She was mad to ask these questions. She wanted him to tell her he was mistaken. Even wavering would have been something.

“Nay.”

Merely that, nay. A blow to her middle. Other men had found her beautiful and sung ballads to her beauty. Not Gregory, however. He was above such common, base sentiment.

“Nay, I suppose you are good for naught else.” She shocked herself into a gasp. Those words had come from her mouth. Awful, cruel, ugly words, but they were out there and with enough truth for her to leave them there.

A muscle worked in his jaw.

“I mean, you have been living the life of a monk since I have known you. You may as well take your orders.” She meant the words to soothe the sting of her last statement, but they sounded petulant and waspish. Calder had called him Father Piety, sneered it at him. Faye had seen how much Gregory hated that. She could apologize and tell him she was being a shrew. She folded her arms over her chest. A lady did not behave in such a manner. Fairest Faye. What a jest. So fair she sat beside a man who refused to want her and cast barbs at him. She shuddered to even think how the minstrels would put that to words. “I beg your pardon.” She dragged the words out. “I should not have said any of that.”

He nodded, but his face remained grim.

Simon slept on and the bullocks kept their slow, steady pace through the night.

He halted the bullocks and turned toward her. “What is it you would have me say?”

Faye stared at her lap. Want me, she screamed inside. Love me and tell me you will stay with me always. “Naught.”

“Look at me.” His voice vibrated with command.

Faye shook her head. She could not look at him and let him see her need writ clear on her face.

“Look at me.” His fingers pressed firm beneath her chin. “You knew I would return to the Abbey.”

She knew, but infernal hope kept at her to believe he might not take his vows. In the end, her foolish girl persisted, he might turn and see what he tossed away and throw his heart at her feet. Faye jerked her chin out of his grasp. “Aye.”

“For as long as we have known each other, I have shared my desire with you. Why are you wroth?” He studied her face, but she looked away. He knew her too well. “Faye.” He growled her name. “Do you think it was easy to leave you that first time?”

“Aye.” Not once had he turned his head as he had ridden away. He bid her God be with her, bowed and left. He had certainly done his best to appear as if it were easy to leave.

“Dear Lord.” He leapt from the cart and strode into the night.

Faye checked on Simon, sleeping soundly. She slipped out of the cart and followed Gregory into the woods.

Beside a large tree, he rested one hand against the trunk, the other curled into a fist by his side. “And do you think I will stroll away, without a care, from you this time? From you and Simon and Arthur.”

“Then why?” Faye wanted to touch him, but his manner forbade it. “Why do you leave us?”

“All I have ever wanted was to take my vows.” He raised his head to the darkened canopy above them. “Since boyhood, I lived and dreamed it. Never did I have a moment’s doubt. Until…”

“Until what?” She ached to hear what came next. Part of her knew, but she still craved hearing it like her next breath.

“Until I rode into Anglesea Keep and saw you standing at the casement.” It robbed her of breath, the pain and the sweetness were that jagged. “You were standing at your casement, looking into the bailey. Calder had not noticed you yet, only I had. Dear God, you were beautiful. But it was more than that.” He took a long, ragged breath. “I have seen many beautiful women. And some of them have even tried to turn my head, but you, Faye, without even trying you made me want things I never thought I would.”

“What things?”

“Why must you do this to me?” He slammed his fist into the tree. “Why must you torment us both in this manner?”

“Because I need to know. I need to know when I have these impossible dreams I am not the only one.” And there it was, the truth, in all its stark and ruthless beauty.

“God’s wounds, Faye.” Striding to her, he stopped right before her. “These words should never be uttered. Once they are spoken, we cannot unspeak them and make them disappear.”

“Please.” The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. The weariness went bone-deep and she had not the strength for it anymore.

“You were mine.” His possessive stare glittered down at her. “From that moment on, you were mine. I knew I could not have you, but here”—he covered her hand and pressed it to his heart—“I knew you were mine.”

She gripped his fingers until her knuckles turned bloodless. Too long, she had waited to hear him say this.

“Faye.” Against her cheek, his palm burned hot. Dark, tortured thoughts flit across his face. “There is no point to this.”

There was a point to this, a point to them. They could not have all this between them and still be so far apart. How could they love and be denied that love? She stood before him, raw and exposed, an open wound.

Their breath mingled in the tiny space between them.

Faye throbbed with the need for his strong, hard form against hers. In his arms she became the woman she hid deep within. She shifted to press her head against his chest.

He tensed.

Nay, she couldn’t let him pull away. She needed…so much, and if all she could have was this, then she would take it. She fastened her arms about his waist and breathed him in. Man, leather and earth wrapped around her. His chest, strong and impenetrable, against her.

Slowly, his arms closed around her.

And she nearly wept. She could breathe when he held her. So many times, in the past, she had ached to rest right here. In the past two days, she had certainly availed herself of the opportunity. More, whispered her heart, take all he has. “I never loved Calder.”

“Faye.” His voice broke.

“It was always you. You are my everything.”

He jerked and staggered back. “Nay, you must not say it.”

“It is the truth.” She closed the distance between them. Her heart thundered in her ears, but she stayed her course. “It has to be said, because it is always there between us. I love you, Gregory. I have loved you since the moment you entered Anglesea behind Calder.”

His huge chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but he kept his head bowed.

“And you have loved me.” Fresh tears sprang up from the sweet ache that never went away.

At last, he raised his head and looked at her. The truth was writ across his face. “I cannot.”

“But you do.” His words caused fresh pain, but she steeled herself. This needed to be done. They could not go the rest of their lives trapped. “Tell me.” The need ached within her. She danced close to danger and she couldn’t pull back. The ache to hear him say it raged through her. She pressed her palms to his chest. “Tell me.”

His skin was warm, his heartbeat strong. And then, his hoarse whisper, “I love you.”

Dear Lord, sweet heat roared through her, swelled her breasts and pooled between her thighs. He loved her. For this one, tiny moment, he was hers without reality intruding. Faye raised herself to her toes and leant toward him. Just one kiss and just this once, a memory to last the rest of her days.

Gregory stared at her lips. “Nay,” he whispered, but his hot gaze said different.

Faye touched her mouth to the rigid line of his. Sweet and hot. The touch raged through her. She slid her hands around his neck and tugged him closer.

With a groan, he bent his head to hers.

Hers. Faye opened her mouth beneath his, sweeping her tongue across his closed lips. The taste of him, strong and male and precious. Her senses thrilled at the contact. His hair was silk between her fingers.

His mouth opened.

Boldly, she swept her tongue into his mouth. Too long denied, desire ripped through her.

He pressed her against him.

Faye molded her curves to his strength. The rightness of him made her weep. He was all she could ever want and more. She poured her need into the kiss.

His restraint broke. His kiss grew feverish as his lips bruised and his teeth caught her lips.

So much and not enough. More and more until she drowned. Faye burrowed her hands into his tunic. Hot, silken skin over hard muscle. She spread her fingers wide to soak up the sensation. The ties at the neck of his tunic loosened and she touched the entire width of his chest.

His heart pounded beneath her hands. At the juncture of her thighs, pressed his arousal. She gloried in it, rubbing her mound against him. Her breasts were sensitive and ready for his touch. Against her breast, she placed his hand. Heat shot from her breast straight to her core. Her knees grew weak and she leant into his strength. She yearned to get closer, to have all of him.

“Mama?”

Faye froze. Her pulse thrummed and her senses clamored, too full of Gregory. She dropped back on her heels.

Gregory’s breathing came loud and harsh as he stepped away from her.

Faye shivered in the sudden chill, her pulse pounding in her ears.

“Where are you?” Simon’s voice quavered.

Gregory spun and strode back toward the cart, his back rigid. “Here.”

Legs trembling, Faye stood in the silence. She was mad. Her fantasies fell short of the magic of Gregory. She ached for more.

Simon perched on his knees in the bed of the cart. “Where were you?”

It had been careless to leave him alone. Oh, but what, dizzying, glorious insanity it had been. “Gregory saw something.” It was the best she could do in the moment.

Simon bounced on his knees. “What?” Spare her from boys and their curiosity.

“A vixen and her litter.” Gregory lied as smoothly as a court jester.

“Can I see?” Simon climbed out of the cart.

“Nay.” Gregory caught his arm before he reached the ground. “It was naught.” He’d loaded the words with meaning.

A piercing chill settled in Faye’s middle.

Over Simon’s head, Gregory’s glare raked cold and accusing, his mouth grim.