“Show me,”
she said, her whispered demand intense with the maelstrom of feeling whirling through her.
His lips quirked into a teasing smile. “Show you what, milady?” His gaze beckoned her, enticed her to lean closer to him.
Did she have the courage to continue what she’d started? A simple glance at Padrig’s face was all the answer she needed.
“Show me how to kiss, if you please,” she said, in the haughtiest tone she could contrive—though she mitigated that offense with a smile.
“There are many kinds of kisses.” He nuzzled her cheek, then touched his lips to her ear. “You’ve only to tell me what you want, milady,” he whispered. “I am yours to command.”
Unfamiliar desires engulfed her; her body demanded something, but she’d little notion precisely what it was she wanted. What she needed.
All at once the answer came to her. She wanted more...!
Praise for Sharon Schulze’s novels
Lady of the Keep
“A warmhearted tale where love mends old wounds and broken dreams.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
The Hidden Heart
“…a medieval romance bound to break your heart, then mend it good as new.”
—Affaire de Coeur
The Shielded Heart
“A fine addition to the author’s L’Eau Clair Chronicles, and one that will make readers look forward to more!”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
For My Lady’s Honor
Sharon Schulze
MILLS & BOON
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To my son Patrick and his wonderful wife:
May your life together always
be full of love and laughter.
And in loving memory of my grandmother,
Clara Willey—for card games, Sunday dinners
(and wrestling!) and making each of us feel like
the most special person in the world.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter One
The Welsh Marches, 1222
Lady Alys Delamare slid her head out of the blanket and greeted the brightening sky with relief. After a nigh sleepless night—during which she’d scarce dared move upon her pallet lest her maddeningly observant escort notice her restlessness—she couldn’t wait to be quit of her bed and on the road once more.
Another day of their journey meant another day in the company of the ever-irksome Sir Padrig ap Huw.
Yet it also brought her another day closer to bidding him farewell.
’Twas a shame the nagging voice inside her head—speaking for the part of her that took a reluctant pleasure in Padrig’s teasing ways—had taken on a sad tone at the thought of their inevitable parting.
She’d plans for her life, plans that didn’t include an attractive young knight…no matter how appealing she found him.
She peeked over at Padrig’s bedroll. ’Twas empty.
By the Virgin, she’d swear she’d heard him every time he’d so much as shifted on the ground in the night! How had he managed to rise without her noticing?
He’s a skilled warrior! Who knows what the man is capable of?
Alys squirmed free of her bedding and stood, tugging at her twisted undertunic and giving a shimmy to settle the garment. Ignoring the stout boots and bliaut on the ground beside her, she edged around Marie, her maid, who continued to snore unabated.
Mayhap Marie had drowned out the sound of Padrig’s leaving. She bit back a laugh. ’Twas possible, for the young woman could nigh wake the deaf at times, she made such a racket.
Once away from Marie, Alys focused instead on the beauty of the morning. Thick grass covered the clearing, soft and cool beneath her bare feet. The sensation sent a shiver of pleasure through her; she could scarce remember the last time she’d had the chance to savor the feel of the earth against her skin.
A smile on her lips, she crept from the clearing and, following a faint path through the trees, entered the forest.
Her unbound hair, mussed from sleep, caught in a low branch. She paused to free herself, the fresh scent of pine adding to her awareness of the world around her—and of herself. She felt vividly alive, conscious of her body in a strange new way.
Her senses alert, Alys heard water splashing. Following the sound, she hurried along the path until she reached a small pool surrounded by trees and rocks.
A pool occupied by a muscular, naked man.
He faced away from her, the water barely hiding his buttocks. Moisture shimmered on his tanned skin, accentuating his strong arms and back. He swept his hands through his wet hair, smoothing it back to lie, dark and wavy, to his shoulders.
She couldn’t mistake that hair. ’Twas Padrig.
Blessed Mary save her! She’d always thought him handsome, but she’d never imagined