She’d known that she’d lose all control if she allowed herself to lean on him ...
He rode into the woods without a care for the fact that permission was needed to enter the king’s forest, or that the first storm of winter was falling around them. There was no hesitation in him, only hard strength that drew still more quivers from her body. She should have worried that they might freeze but she didn’t. The man sitting next to her was too warm and confident for her to truly worry.
“There.”
He leaned low, to make sure his words found her ear. She felt the warm brush of his breath against her ear and it sent a ripple of delight through her.
“The hunting house.”
She had heard rumors of such a place. The house itself was far more appealing to her than the palace with all its grandeur. This was a two-story house with wide stairs that led up to the front doors. Twin panels opened outward, beneath an arched doorframe set with sculpted leaves and grapes. It was refuted to be where Henry Tudor came to consort with his mistresses.
“This is the King’s house.”
“Yet mine for the time that I am at court.”
“Yours?” Her voice trailed off as she took a look at Synclair’s face. Satisfaction shimmered in his eyes now and it sent a shaft of need through her.
He stopped the stallion at the base of those stairs and a groom appeared to hold the reins. Synclair jumped from the saddle, his boots making only a scuff when they hit the ground.
“Indeed, Justina, mine because I have limited tolerance for the palace and the Earl of Hertford is kind enough to indulge me.”
“The palace is also full.”
Synclair reached up and clasped his hands around her waist. “The King is welcome to his guests. I prefer some privacy.”
He lifted her down, but didn’t release her immediately. His hands remained around her waist and she was overly aware of the place where he touched her. There was something in his eyes that made her breathless once again, only this time it was because she felt like she was poised on the edge of a cliff, just waiting to topple over the edge.
What was odd was the fact that she was looking forward to falling, anticipation drawing her belly tight with excitement. An urge to behave recklessly began to take control of her and she witnessed something similar in Synclair’s eyes. Surrounded by the darkness, there seemed no more perfect time to taste what was forbidden and unwise.
To taste what she desired above all other things ...
“The King used to come here for privacy, too. Privacy to meet with his mistresses.”
She wasn’t sure what made her say such a thing. It was a barbed comment, one designed to displease or gain a reaction. But she honestly wanted to provoke him and that was a cowardly thing.
“Exactly what I crave, Justina, privacy to end this chase you have begun.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “And why not?”
She took a slow step away from him, more of a nervous motion not truly designed to evade him. But there was part of her that did long for him to chase her and capture her. It was a dark desire but one that refused to be silenced now that they were so very alone. She felt as though she had been waiting forever for such a moment.
“Because I am happy to be here.” There was a deep satisfaction in saying the words. Justina felt it burning through the resentment and frustration that Biddeford so often forced her to shoulder.
But there was also something deeper, something that she had been ignoring too long. Synclair closed the space between them, his fingers landing gently on her lower back. Her breath caught and his eyes narrowed when he heard it.
The doors opened and a lantern was held high. The light didn’t reach to the bottom of the stairs but shone like a beacon above them. Synclair pushed her gently up the stairs.
He leaned down and she felt his breath on the side of her neck once more. “If you are happy to be here, meet me on the field, madam, or have your own actions paint you timid.”
Justina grabbed a handful of her skirts and lifted them so that she might climb the stairs.
Meet him on the field indeed. The man was every inch the knight and he enjoyed the battles that had earned him that rank.
The servant holding the lantern never looked directly at her. Justina passed the lantern and entered the house to discover that candles had been lit on a table in the front room and at the top of the inside staircase to illuminate the open doors of a bedchamber on the second floor. She froze in her steps, her attention fixed on that second floor and the fact that she knew she did not possess the will to deny her passion for Synclair.
“I will make you no promises.” Justina’s voice was low but steady.
She turned but Synclair was directly behind her. His hands cupped her waist once again, holding her in place with steely strength.
“Well, Justina, I will make you one promise, and that is that you will never again risk yourself by running away from me.”
His words were edged with harsh reprimand and a moment later he swept her off her feet without even a flinch. He cradled her against his chest, taking the stairs with quick motions of his powerful legs and carrying her into the upstairs bedchamber.
“Enough, Synclair, this is insanity.”
He put her down but only so that he might turn and close the doors. He shut them with a hard motion that betrayed just how much anger still ruled him. Yet he had controlled all that emotion and never even pinched her. She watched him, astonished at how well he hid his true feelings, admired his control because she was forced to do the same so often. A curious sense of kinship surfaced inside her.
“What is insanity is you riding across the borderland in a pair of boy’s britches without even a dagger to protect you.”
There was thick reprimand in his tone and she should have backed away from it but her temper rose to the challenge, refusing to be told where her place was when her son’s safety was at risk.
“That is not your concern. You didn’t have the right to hold me at Amber Hill. Besides, Jemma gifted the mare to me, and I may do what I please with my gifts.”
Synclair unbuckled his belt and dropped it on a nearby table. “I pledged my help to you, Justina, there was no reason to place yourself at such risk. My service to Lord Ryppon is finished, and I will keep my word now that I have my leave.”
“I never asked for your help.”
He growled, low and deep, one finger pointing at her. “You should have.”
He closed the distance between them, framing her face with his hands, but in spite of the raging passion flickering in his eyes, his touch was only firm. She shivered, her body begging her to yield because it wanted to feel that passion. A soft sound came from her lips but it was more needy than anything else and his eyes narrowed in response. His hands began to smooth over her cheeks, soft little motions that sent sweet enjoyment through her.
“You made me stalk you, Lady, and what I still do not understand is why, but I do not care. My service is finished, and I swear to you that capturing you is my only goal now.”
“You cannot change my guardian’s nature.”
“I will force him to release you or kill him for the way he abuses his position.”
His mouth covered hers, blocking out any further protests. She backed away from his kiss, seeking some distance to maintain her grasp on reality, but Synclair followed her, wrapping one arm around her to bind her body against his own. His lips never relented, demanding that she accept his kiss and open her mouth to allow it to deepen.