“Where do you live?” his voice was gentle. “It isn’t safe for a gentlewoman out here alone. My men are camped nearby and I couldn’t vouch for the manners of any of them, coming upon a maid alone in the dark.”
God’s blood, he was a gentleman. Kit breathed a sigh of relief and offered up a silent prayer of thanks. Chivalry demanded that he give her due respect. “Thank you for your concern, sir,” she said with relief. A change of tactics was needed. If she used a bit of honey, the way her stepsisters did so annoyingly, perhaps she could get him to go away. “I will just gather my things and be off—”
“Where is your home?”
“Not far.” Her voice was as sweet as she could make it.
“I cannot allow you to go unescorted. There are dangers in the night, my lady.”
Kit wanted to scream at the man but held her temper in check. A ladylike argument was more likely to win her cause than screeching like one of the banshees of Bridget’s tales. “Please sir, allow me to pick up my clothes, and you may escort me to my cottage,” she said sweetly.
Chivalry was all fine and good, but who could tell how a stranger would behave? Even Lord Somers, her own stepfather, was mean and brutal with her. Kit almost groaned aloud when the man swept down and picked up all of her belongings at once. Now she’d never get her dagger. And there was a good chance she wouldn’t be able to outrun him, especially without her boots. No, she could see he moved too well for a man his size, with grace and purpose.
“You mystify me, my lady,” the knight said.
“Oh?” Kit turned away and tried to calm herself as she walked towards the cottage.
“At first when I saw you I thought you were one of the nymphs of old.” Was there a hint of amusement in his voice? “Now I tend to believe that you are made of flesh and blood yet you have little fear of me. Why?”
If only he knew she was trying to figure a way to get hold of her knife so she could slip the blade between his ribs. “Naturally, I am wary, sir. I realize just how vulnerable I am. I’m ill at ease having to rely on your sense of propriety and chivalry. I would hope, by all the saints, that you intend me no harm.” She wanted to gag. If her stepsisters could only see her, they’d be on the ground, laughing.
The cottage was almost in sight now, though the soldier would be hard-pressed to see it, since the night was so black and the building lay within a thicket of trees. Her stepmother had had it built, ostensibly for the use of the family, but Kit knew she used it for other purposes. Fortunately, Lady Edith was not there tonight with any of her gentleman friends. Kit would be able to slip inside, bar the door and outwait the knight in warmth and comfort.
“Here we are, sir.” Kit stopped and turned to dismiss the soldier, but the man seemed incapable of taking the hint. “My...my mother awaits me,” she lied.
He moved towards her, and though Kit couldn’t actually see his face in the dark, she sensed that he was looking at her intently. She felt exceedingly uncomfortable to be so scrutinized, especially by the man who had just watched her as she bathed. It was absolutely indecent.
“Sh-she is ill, you see...er, and will worry overmuch if—”
“Who are you?” His voice was soft, a caress. He came closer.
His nearness was intoxicating. Kit’s mouth went dry. Though the knight was huge, she was suddenly no longer afraid. An alien curiosity filled her as she realized that no man had ever affected her in the way this man did. “I...er...”
Before she could answer, he dropped the clothing he carried and took her face in both of his hands. His mouth brushed hers, a gentle caress of lips that made her tremble. He groaned as his mouth touched hers again, gently at first, then gradually more demanding until his lips were slanting over hers, leaving her breathless and bewildered. His hands slipped under her cloak and moved onto her shoulders, then down her bare back until they reached her smoothly rounded bottom. He pressed her tightly against him. She felt his hard, clothed body against her naked flesh and a knot of pleasure wound itself up tightly in her pelvis. She had never experienced anything like this before. Not even Rupert had ever—
Kit broke away from him in shock. “Please!”
“Who are you?”
“Let me go!”
“My name is Wolf.” His hot breath seared her ear, and his lips brushed against her lips again.
Kit tried to pull away. She’d never been kissed this way before and was shaken to the core.
“Who are you?” he repeated.
“No one! I am no one! Let me go!” At that, she pulled away and ran to the cottage, her cloak billowing out behind her. When she was inside, she dropped the heavy beam across the door and leaned against the rough wall until her breathing slowed, until her heart stopped its wild pounding.
Wolf knew with certainty that she didn’t want to be found with him, but he considered risking all to touch her and taste her again. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met. Beautiful, seductive, intriguing. He was shaken by his own reaction to her, and one taste of this goddess wasn’t enough. He wanted her as he’d never wanted anyone before.
But the truth of the matter was that he couldn’t risk offending the local nobility while on this errand of Henry’s. He’d have to put this woman, this delectable “no one” out of his thoughts for the time being.
Wolf finally turned and headed back into the thickest part of the forest towards camp. He was a patient man. He would come back for her when all was settled at Windermere.
Kit couldn’t sleep all night. She sat in the dark with a blanket around her and still she shivered, though she couldn’t really complain of the cold. It would have been nice to go out and retrieve her clothes, but she was afraid he would be out there waiting.
“Wolf.” It suited him, she thought. He was certainly big enough to lead a pack of wolves and though he’d been gentle with her, she sensed that he could be brutal as well as kind. In the moonlight, she’d been able to see his wild mane of shaggy dark hair and light gray eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dark.
She really needed to try to consider a feasible way to evade King Henry’s army in the morning, but all she could think of was Wolf. His lips, the way his tongue slipped in and out of her mouth, his hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her back, her bottom...
Rupert had never even kissed her. He’d gone off with King Henry over three years before, without even the benefit of a betrothal, promising to return after the French territories were regained. But here it was, ages since the fall of Normandy and Rupert had not returned. How long did he expect her to wait?
Kit could practically feel herself growing older by the day. Her stepsister, Margery, would be betrothed soon and Eleanor was likely to follow in another year or so. Kit longed to be off with Rupert to become his wife and the mistress of his home. And she yearned for more now, too.
Feelings like the ones the knight aroused must surely be sinful. Just thinking about what had happened caused that hot, pulsing knot to tighten in her belly again, and she squirmed at the memory of Wolf’s touch. Rupert’s touch, she meant. It would be just the same with Rupert, even better, she told herself, when she was his wife.
Just before dawn, Kit climbed out the narrow window on the far side of the cottage. She sneaked around the corner, straining her eyes in the predawn light to see if anyone lurked about in the dark. Wolf was gone, so she grabbed her clothes and quickly ran back to what she considered to be the safe side of the cottage. She dressed quickly,