Justina mounted her mare and hooked her knee over the saddle horn. It was a precarious seat, but since Anne Boleyn had lost her head, women were wise to avoid riding like men. The former queen had been well known for her love of riding astride but it had been yet another charge used to condemn her.
The crisp air turned her cheeks cold and Justina leaned low over the neck of her mare to ride faster. She left behind her the aspiring daughters of nobles who were only there to be seen and possibly offered for, along with the good wives who attended in order to gossip. Riding away from the palace filled her with joy, and she urged her mare faster, allowing herself to live only in that moment, when there was nothing but the open forest. Her heart beat faster and her shoulders lost much of the tension that had been keeping her on edge since her return. Once they reached the woods, the falcons were loosed to spread their wings out and fly overhead.
Justina tipped her head back, grateful for the long steel pin that kept her hat in place while she watched the raptors soar over the top of the trees. She envied them, but smiled as she watched the way they floated far above everything.
She did know how to smile.
Synclair watched Justina, drinking in the sight of her.
Had it truly been only a few days since he’d seen her last? His lower back ached from too many hours in the saddle, but it was worth it because he’d managed to find the woman he’d spent too many hours thinking about. Her face inhabited his dreams, and he heard her voice when the morning was still dark but he was walking the walls and searching the night for signs of invaders. Whenever there was nothing for his mind to do, his thoughts filled with her. No amount of discipline seemed able to banish his addiction to her. The thing that doubled his frustration was the way the lady ran from him. This time, she had truly taken to the road to escape him.
That roused his temper because of the risk she’d taken. No woman should be pushed to such lengths; it was dishonorable of a man to do so. True honor was not the pride-filled nonsense that was so often displayed at court. He watched her and drank in the sight of her sitting safely on the side of her mare. It was a fine sight, one that he was determined to see more often.
Some might label it an obsession. Synclair didn’t know, but he was sure of one fact—he was going to put whatever was between them to the test. At last, at long last, because the single kiss he’d stolen from her was as fresh in his mind as the ale he’d consumed at midday.
Only far sweeter.
He guided his stallion closer to his prey. He’d spent hours watching her, waiting on her to emerge from her tower at Amber Hill so that he might approach her. Things would be different now. The rules that had governed his behavior while he was sworn to serve the Baron Ryppon were no longer binding him. He could feel something dark rising up inside him. It had kept him awake too many nights to count while his flesh burned for the touch of the woman intent on refusing him.
He chuckled softly. He still felt the sting of her hand across his jaw but all that did was increase his need to taste her honeyed lips once more. There was something between them and it was not just he who felt it. She might have resisted his kiss at first but that had turned to passion just as hot as his own within moments.
He was going to feel that again. Even if the lady sputtered in outrage at him. She would be his, and for reasons he did not understand, that idea persisted through the months she had hidden from him and refused him when their paths did cross.
He knew her reason, and that only fueled his desire to claim her even more. Synclair swept the area, looking for the man he suspected he might have to kill.
Actually, he wanted to kill him. The Viscount Biddeford was a blight upon the English nobility, a shame that needed wiping away. He used his guardianship for gain without any regard for honor.
Justina laughed, the sound sending sensations down his back. It was delicate and far too rare. He gave a tug on the reins in his hands and guided his stallion in closer.
“A hawk won’t return to its master unless it trusts him.”
Justina gasped, jumping as she jerked her attention around to face the man she had dreamt about last night.
It couldn’t be.
But Synclair sat in front of her, more real than she believed possible. His stallion was a full head taller than her mare, and he angled his head to look down upon her. Unlike the men surrounding the earl of Hertford, Synclair was wearing only sturdy wool garments. There wasn’t a bauble or length of trim anywhere on him, just the gold knights’ chain secured to the shoulders of his doublet which allowed the chain to drape across the wide expanse of his chest.
He looked more fetching to her eyes than any other man. Something flickered in his eyes, a hint of pleasure at knowing that she enjoyed looking at him.
“The raptor isn’t afraid of the world, even when it should be. Once it gains its freedom, it will take a strong bond to bring it back to the man who held it.”
He wasn’t talking about a hawk. The knight’s blue eyes were hard as winter ice and aimed directly at her.
“Rather insightful of the raptor; fear is for children.”
“Or women who are forced to endure guardians that lack honor.”
Justina gasped again. This time her mare danced in a circle, feeling her rider’s upset. Synclair’s lips twitched, hinting at a grin that never truly showed on his face, but there was an unmistakable flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He used a short pull on his reins to guide his stallion closer to her mare, sidestepping over to neatly push her away from the main body of the hunting party. Surprise held her in its grasp. Her heart accelerated and her thoughts whirled too fast to reign in. Synclair took advantage of that, cutting his stallion ever closer to her mare. Her horse retreated, until Justina pulled up on the reins to insist that the animal stay in place.
The action didn’t gain her the security she sought, instead Synclair urged his stallion closer, and unlike her mare, the animal seemed accustomed to being pressed against another horse. She felt Synclair invading her space and leaned away out of instinct.
“Enough, sir. Have done.”
“I think not, Lady, I have only begun. It is time you and I stand steady and see what happens when we are not being pulled apart by the rest of the world.”
“I disagree.”
She leaned farther away, too far to maintain her balance atop the mare.
The knight’s hand snaked out as fast as a lightning strike to grip her skirt. He grabbed a huge hand full of the cartridge-pleated material, holding her in place when her own movement would have carried her over the side of the mare.
“What are you doing at court?”
She couldn’t deal with him back at court when she was forced to remain, too. Something flashed in his eyes, a warning that cut through her like a knife. Her breath became lodged in her throat.
“Following you, Justina.”
He spoke her name in a rough voice before stretching out his arm and allowing her body to slide down the side of the saddle. Even as shock held her in its grasp, she was amazed at the amount of strength in his body. He controlled her descent to the ground, lifting one leg up and over her mare so that he sat for a brief moment on top of the animal before he followed her to the ground. He might have simply released her skirt and dismounted from his own horse but he refused to allow her to drop so carelessly. His solid strength supported her all the way to the ground, while he followed her. It happened in a moment but her mind was frozen in shock, making every action slower and more noticeable.
“Did