The Deed (23 page)

Truly? He appeared bemused by her words.

Aye. And more, she admitted almost with shame, then added in a hurried rush, Damiana is an
herb said to increase a mans ardor.

Amaury blinked over that. He had been about to pursue the And more she had mentioned, but
now was thoroughly distracted by her admission. Increase a mans... ?

Aye. Emma peered down at her hands, grimacing over the fact that they were now twisting a
portion of her skirts into a crumpled heap. I feared twas the only way to bring you to my
bed.

Nay!? Amaury peered at her wide-eyed. Had he not shown the depths of his passion for her
by his attentions? Good God, but he was like a dog in heat at every turn, even going so
far as to jump upon her in the woods. Then understanding struck. She had most like thought
that as a result of her potions, he realized and immediately began working at the lacing
of her gown.

My lord? What do you? Emma grabbed at his hands to still them.

Proving my ardor, wife. I have had no damiana this day, nor any other. Gods truth, had I
drank those potions, I most like would not have let you leave the bed this last week, he
added wryly, undoing the last of her ties and pushing the gown quickly off her shoulders.

But... what of my skill with the bow? Fulk had turned from her in disgust on learning of
that. Surely he would as well.

Amaury paused, irritation flashing across his face. Oh, aye. Picking her up beneath the
arms, he stood and held her before him until her gown slid off. Once it hit the floor, he
sat back down, laid her across his lap, and gave her behind a sharp whack as he ordered in
an almost bored voice, You are never to shoot an arrow at me again, wife. Twas sinful of
you to do so. I am your husband and lord. Shifting her again, he laid her on the bed.

Is that it? Emma asked with dismay as he came down on top of her.

Pausing, Amaury raised one eyebrow. You wish more?

Emma blinked. Nay, but... I am fair skilled with the bow, she pointed out.

Aye. I did notice, wife. Finishing with her ties, he tugged her into a sitting position
and slid the tunic off her shoulders as well, his eyes lighting up when her breasts were
revealed.

You do not mind? Emma watched his face doubtfully.

Mind? Pausing again, he glanced at her quizzically. Nay, wife. In truth I am fair grateful
for that skill. As is my manhood. Had your shot been even the littlest bit off, not even
your potions could help my ardor.

But Emma paused to gasp as he finally cupped the breasts he had worked so hard to disrobe.

Sides, Amaury murmured, pressing a kiss to one breast, then turning to the other. Without
that ability, the bandits may have got the best of me. Tis a valuable skill, wife. Now,
shut up and help me

shed my clothes, else I shall have some damiana put in your tankard.

We should be stopping soon, Blake murmured encouragingly, slowing his mount to ride beside
a rather wilted Emma on her mare.

Nearly sagging with relief, she smiled gratefully at the fair-haired man.

They were on their way to court. It was two weeks since the incident with the poison.
Things had changed a great deal since then. Amaury, like herself, had concluded that
Bertrand was behind the poor luck they had been having of late and fully expected those
attempts on his life to continue. But he had taken what precautions he could to guard
against it. Despite the fact that Emma herself had never been targeted in the attacks, he
had included her in those precautions. Until now, neither of them had been outside the
keep walls, both of them now had guards following them about throughout the day, and both
of their tankards were dunked in boiling water before each use.

The tail of the veil attached to Emmas conical hat slid across her face. Lifting a hand,
she pushed it aside as she rode. De Lascey had finished the last of their wardrobe just
two days before they had decided to leave for court. There were no long-toed crakows, no
dragging sleeves, and no huge plumes drooping out of hats. In truth he had done a fine job
on their vestments. There would be no shaming titters behind hands, or jokes this time,
she thought with a smile that faded quickly. It was hard to find pleasure in anything when
her behind felt as though it had been scalded and left to fester.

Emma was not used to riding for so long. She had been in her saddle since first light that
morning with only one short respite when they had stopped for a nooning meal. The sun was
crawling downward and still they rode. Emma had just decided that Amaury meant to ride
them through the night when Blake had dropped back to where she rode.

Did my husband say so? Emma asked now, her spirits dropping when Blake grimaced and shook
his head.

Nay, but He paused as Amaury suddenly shouted the order Emma had been awaiting, then
turned to beam at her. You see?

Emma could not help but smile back at his grin as she drew her mount to a halt, but that
smile vanished, replaced by a gasp of surprise, as she was suddenly grasped about the
waist and swung off her horse into her husbands arms.

Clutching anxiously at his shoulders, she glanced back to see Blake laughing softly as her
husband carted her off into the woods. She also saw that he had not forgotten the need for
a guard. Little George and one of the other men were following at a discreet distance.

Where are we going? she asked as the trees closed around them.

Amaury was silent so long, she began to think he would not answer her. Then he suddenly
paused, a smile of satisfaction spreading across his face. Here.

Turning, Emma stared silently around the clearing stretching before them. It was at the
side of the river. A small glen with sweet-smelling grass and flowering bushes that were
just coming into bloom. It was

lovely, even in the falling dusk. Tis beautiful, is it not? Aye, she agreed in a whisper,
almost afraid to disturb the peace here by speaking with her full voice. Tis why I wished
to camp here. I thought to share this with you.

Emmas eyes widened at the sweetness behind that thought. It explained his
inconsiderateness in making them travel so late and in her mind at least, excused it
completely. Her thoughts were scattered when he suddenly set her down and began tugging at
her clothes. Husband, what

We shall bathe away the days travels here. You must undress to do so.

Aye, but what of Little George and

I ordered them to wait a hundred feet back. They are near enough to come running if there
is any trouble, but cannot see. Do not fret. How do you undo this blasted

Here, my lord. Emma pushed his hands away with exasperation and took over the deed of
undressing herself. Amaury paused to watch her for a moment, then turned his attention to
his own clothes. He was naked and rushing into the water before she had even sat down on a
fallen log at the edge of the river to remove her hose.

Laughing at his shout at the coldness of the river,

Emma paused to watch him dunk himself.

You are dallying, he accused her when he resurfaced and saw her simply sitting on the dead
tree watching him.

Nay. Emma smiled and lifted her under-tunic above one thigh so that she could work at her
hose. At his sudden silence, she glanced back to the water, eyebrows rising at the way he
had gone still as he watched her. Eyes twinkling with devilment, she slowed her actions
and raised her leg into the air, stretching it like a cat as she undid her hose and rolled
it along her leg. Dropping it to the ground, she then repeated the action with her other
leg before getting languidly to her feet and reaching for the hem of her under-tunic. She
paused briefly then, a blush coming to her cheeks at what she was about to do, then slowly
lifted the hem of her gown, revealing her hips, her stomach, and finally her breasts
before she slid the tunic over her head.

Growling deep in his throat, Amaury headed for shore at once, but Emma quickly held the
gown up to shield herself. Nay. I would bathe, husband. I have been riding all day and
must smell of horses.

His steps faltered and he hesitated, then sank back into the water, simply watching her.
Emma cast him a slow smile, then raced toward the water, tossing her under-tunic over her
head as she rushed in. The water was cool on her heated skin, startlingly so, and Emma
squealed as she floundered toward the deeper water at the center of the river.

Cold, wife? Amaury moved slowly toward her as she finally began to adjust to the
temperature. Aye.

Shall I warm you? he murmured, catching her hand and tugging her closer.

Nay. Emma turned away, trying to move out of his reach, but he caught her from behind and
drew her back until her behind rubbed against his lower belly. Purring in her ear, he
shifted his hands from her arms to cup her breasts, playing with them shamelessly beneath
the water as he fitted her more firmly against himself. Hmm. You are cold. Feel those
goosebumps.

Giving a half laugh, half gasp, Emma slapped at his hands as he gently pinched her erect
nipples. You are shameless, husband.

Aye, it must be those potions of yours, he teased, and Emma tried to elbow him. He had
teased her just so at every turn since she had revealed her attempt to drug him. Rather
than being angry, her husband had found her admittance vastly amusing, much to her
annoyance. Unfortunately, her attempt to elbow him was foiled easily by Amaury, and only
managed to maneuver her lower in the water so that she rubbed against his erect manhood.

Swiveling quickly in the water, she grabbed his rigid member firmly, blushing brightly at
the startled expression on his face, even as she teased right back, I am cold? Feel this
goosebump.

Who is shameless now, wife? he asked with a wicked grin, and reached for her, but she
caught her feet on his knees and launched herself backward, swimming swiftly away.
Laughing as he struck out after her, Emma swam for shore, then hurried quickly out of the
water and grabbed up her discarded tunic as she turned to confront him. He was just
reaching for her when the beginnings of a startled shout reached them through the trees
even as it was silenced.

Stiffening, Amaury changed direction, reaching for his braies and sword. Get dressed.

He did not need to give her the order twice. Tugging the under-tunic over her head, she
rushed to the log she had laid the rest of her clothes over and quickly snatched up her
gown. She had the dress over her head when the sound of breaking branches warned her of
trouble and had her tugging the gown quickly over her torso, freeing her vision.

Amaury had managed to don his braies, but that was all before the first attacker broke
from the trees. Seeing his half-clothed and apparently unarmed state, the man rushed
forward for the kill, but Amaury had been bent over, reaching for his sword. He
straightened and thrust that sword forward, through the oncomers chest, as he approached.
He had barely pulled his sword free when at least a dozen more seemed to explode from the
woods all about them.

Stopping, he gaped at the uneven odds, then straightened grimly and raised his sword. That
was when Emma suddenly hurtled herself at him, throwing them both backward into the water.
She was back on her feet at once. Turning her back on him, she faced the men narrowing the
space between them as Amaury floundered to regain his feet in the shallow water.

Will you kill me?

The attackers stilled at that. Even Amaury froze in the water behind her as she hissed
those words.

Will you?! For you will have to kill me to get at my husband, and I fear Bertrand will not
be pleased at my death. He loses all should I die. Even as she said the words, she
recognized the lie in them. Bertrand could most likely still claim Eberhart should she
die. He simply would not gain her dowry. That would

have to be returned to Rolfe. Still, she doubted these louts would know that. I suggest
you give it up and save yourselves. For if we heard your approach, no doubt our men did
too, and they will cut you down like the dogs you are should you be here when they arrive.

The last words had barely left her mouth when the shouts of approaching men could be
heard. Emma was just sagging in relief when Amaury regained his feet, pushed her to the
side, and threw himself into the middle of the men now standing uncertainly before them
even as Blake and the others flew into the clearing to aid him with the rest.

Emma had always known her husband was a warrior and good in battle. Now, however, she
learned that when enraged, he was a force to be reckoned with. And he was most definitely
enraged, she thought as she noted the grim satisfaction on his face as he dispatched one
of their attackers. And she very much feared some of his anger would be with her for her
interference. She supposed she had hurt some of his manly pride by shielding him with her
own body. She also supposed she would hear about that anger once he and his men were
finished here.

Sighing, she sank onto the log she had sat on to take off her hose and calmly set about
putting the hose back on as she waited. It did not take more than a few moments for Amaury
and his men to finish off the attackers. When they were through, all but one was dead. The
one still alive was badly injured, however. Amaury ordered him taken back to camp for
questioning, then turned to peer at his wife. She had just finished donning her clothes,
and now sat primly on the fallen log, eyeing him warily.

He took a moment to try to settle his temper somewhat, then moved to stand in front of
her. Wife.

I never should have put myself before you, she blurted hurriedly, jumping to her feet. You
most like had everything under control and twas most dangerous. I am very lucky I did not
get myself killed and I shall never ever risk myself so again. I swear it.

Amaury rolled his eyes at that. You should never make a promise you cannot keep, wife. I
have no doubt that you shall risk yourself again. Tis in your nature.

However, he added grimly when she began to relax at his words. The next time... and I do
mean the very next time you do something so foolish again, I shall take you across my knee
and His words came to an abrupt end as his wee wife threw herself against his chest,
wrapping her arms about his waist.

You are a very generous and forbearing husband, husband. I am very lucky.

Aye... well... Clearing his throat, he reached a hand up to pat her back. Just try not to
be so impulsive in future.

Aye, husband. Twill be so, I swear it. Tipping her head back, she smiled up at him
sweetly, relaxing in relief when he bent to press a kiss to her soft lips. Well, it was
not so bad, she decided as the kiss deepened. Her husbands temper was not so horrid. Most
husbands would have blistered at least her ears, if not some other part of her body, for
what she had done.

Ending the kiss, Amaury straightened and tried not to frown. In truth he felt like
something had gone wrong. He had intended on shouting her ears off with his anger and yet
oddly, that anger had fled like a bird before the storm under her smile. Shaking his head,
he stepped away and retrieved the rest of his clothes. Quickly donning his tunic and
doublet, he belted his sword back on and spared a glance at the bodies lying strewn about
the clearing. I shall have to have Little George and some men see to them.

Emma frowned at that. Did you send anyone to check on Little George and the other fellow?
They did not join the battle.

Damn. Slapping one hand to his leg in irritation, he strode off toward the trees. Emma
hurried after him to lend her aid in finding the men.

It was growing darker quickly now. Soon it would be full night and impossible to find the
two men if they were unable to call for help, so it was with some relief that Emma cried
out to her husband as she spied a hand sticking out from a bush to the side of the path.
It was Little George. Unconscious, he was sprawled on the ground like an abandoned doll, a
great bruising bump on his noggin telling the story of how he came to be that way.

After assuring himself that the man was alive, Amaury left Emma to try to wake him, and
headed out in search of the second man. He found him twenty feet away, his throat slit.

Little George was just stirring to life when Amaury returned. The fact that he carried his
fallen man over his shoulder did not tell her he was dead so much as her husbands
expression did. Emma cast him a sympathetic glance, then turned her attention back to the
man now coming to grumbling life in her lap.

Amaurys first cursed a blue streak as his aching head forced him back into consciousness.
Then realizing whose lap his head rested in, he apologized tersely and sat up, one hand
going to rub the knot on his forehead. Damn me, that hurt.