Chapter Twelve

“Constance, wake up.”

Robert’s voice. Deep and oddly demanding.

The memory of their disagreement rushed back to her. Was he still cross?

She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position. Daylight streamed through the open window, illuminating every corner of the bedchamber. Already dressed, Robert stood at the foot of the bed. He wore red, and the color suited him. But then, what color didn’t?

He came around to her side of the bed. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but now you must get up. Most of the morning is gone.”

“What? My duties—”

“Meg’s taking care of them. She was happy to do it.”

“But why didn’t you wake me? Or Alice—”

“Alice is in the solar, waiting to help you dress. And I thought you could use a little extra sleep after your late night.”

She frowned. “About that…you’re not angry?”

“Life’s too short for anger.”

“You believe me then.”

He averted his gaze. “List, I don’t know what happened last night, but it surely isn’t worth arguing about.” He regarded her again. “Besides, I have a proposition for you. With Meg taking over your duties for the day—”

“The whole day?”

“Aye. I asked her to.” He ran his hand down the green bed curtain.

“Why?”

He gave her a winning grin. “So we can spend more time together.”

Her stomach dropped. “Doing what?”

“Not what you think, if I’m to gauge by your expression. We shall spend the day doing our favorite things.”

“Both yours and mine?”

“Of course. We’ll take turns, and mayhap we’ll introduce each other to something new.” He pointed to the table. “There’s mead over there if you’re thirsty. I’ll send in Alice. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting in the hall.” He pivoted around and with a spring in his step, strode from the chamber.

Alice shuffled in. “Good morrow, my lady. What color will you wear today?”

Constance’s heart lightened, and she leapt out of bed. “Yellow.” A bright color to match what promised to be a sunny day, in every sense.

A short while later, she entered the hall. Robert stood with his back turned, his attention on the servants scrubbing the trestle tables. She snuck up to him and tapped him on the back.

Abruptly, he turned. Then he glanced at her attire and smiled. “You are as a ray of sunshine.”

Her gaze dropped to his tunic. “And you are red as…I don’t know what.”

“How about your cheeks?”

The heat in them was undeniable. She giggled. “Right you are. You have a particular talent for making me blush.”

He gave her a wicked grin. “And I cannot help but relish it.”

Her heart fluttered. Apparently, he relished many things…

“So, my lady, you first. What shall we do?”

Her stomach rumbled, and she snapped her fingers. “I have it. Follow me.”

She led him out of the keep, past the garden, through the gate, and down the motte steps. The smell of chopped onions and roasting meat filled her senses as they passed the kitchens. They continued past the vegetable garden and stopped in front of the bakery.

Robert breathed deeply and sighed. “Ah! Nothing like the smell of baking bread. But why have you brought me hither? Food is one of my favorite things.”

She twisted her lips. “Aye, we’ve established that. But I’m rather fond of it, too.” As if to voice its accord, her stomach howled.

He laughed. “Evidently. And I thought my stomach was loud!”

She gave him a rueful smile. “Wait here.” She dashed into the next-door dairy, grabbed a roll of butter, and returned to him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Butter. I took it medicinally as a child, but I like it best slathered on bread.”

“Have you ever had it melted on fresh, warm bread?”

“I cannot say I have. The bread is always cold.”

“Then this will be a treat. Come.”

They entered the bakery, just as the baker fed a large round of hand-molded dough into one of the hearth’s hive-shaped ovens.

Constance stepped forward. “Good day to you, Byron.”

The baker turned, and his face lit up. “My lady!” He gave a nod. “Sir Robert. How may I assist you?”

She scanned the tables. “Where is your freshest bread?”

Byron motioned for them to follow, and they moved to the far corner. “I took these rolls from the oven just moments ago.”

Her mouth watered. “We would eat two now, with this butter. You’re welcome to have one as well.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Would you cut them open and put the butter inside so it melts?”

“Aye, my lady.” Byron hustled to another table for a knife. Soon after, he handed Constance and Robert the prepared rolls.

The bread warmed her hand. “Thank you.” She looked up at Robert. “Let’s eat these outside, and I’ll return the butter to the dairy.”

“Allow me,” Byron said, reaching for the butter roll. He grinned. “The dairy is blessedly cool.”

She nodded, understanding. The three of them exited the bakery. Butter in hand, Byron popped into the dairy, while the knight and his lady strolled onward.

Robert gave her a hopeful look. “May I take a bite?”

“Give the butter a little more time to melt.”

He sighed, then shrugged. “I know the perfect place to eat these, and ’tis connected to one of my favorite things…besides eating, of course.”

She smiled. “Then lead on.”

They passed through the gatehouse, turned left, and rounded the palisade.

The roll was still warm in her hand. Her stomach growled. “The butter should be sufficiently melted now, if you’d like a taste.”

“Finally!”

At the same time, they bit into their rolls. The bread had a hint of sweetness, which the salted butter complemented to perfection.

Robert moaned. “Oh.” With eyes shut, he threw his head back. “Oh!” He opened his eyes and regarded her. “This is so good!”

She swallowed a mouthful of buttery goodness. “Isn’t it?”

“I’ve thought of a new plan. Let’s eat our rolls on the way to our destination. I cannot hold back.”

She chuckled. “I’m of the same mind.”

They continued in silence, devouring their rolls with single-minded focus. Empty-handed, they arrived at the avenue of oaks.

He smiled. “Meg calls these the Mirror Oaks.”

I know. She said it last night. If only she could tell him of her adventure with Meg. But the ghost was involved, so she would hold her tongue.

She gave him a sidewise glance. “I had a feeling we were headed hither.”

He nodded. “To listen to the trees.”

“The day we came to Druid’s Head, you said you heard promise in the sound of rustling leaves.”

He halted. “You remember that?”

She stopped and turned back to him. “Of course. Why shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad you remember. It means you cared enough to listen.”

I care even more today…so much I can hardly believe it. “Let’s listen now.”

She shut her eyes. The leaves overhead crackled and swished. Then a sudden gust turned their whisper into a whoosh. The sound rained down on her, tickling her senses.

“I see why you love it.” She opened her eyes.

He was staring at her. “Do you?”

“Aye.”

Holding her gaze, he stepped closer. Then he cleared his throat. “Your turn, Constance.”

She nodded and thought fast. What next? She snapped her fingers. “I know! Something I haven’t done in years.”

Fleet of foot, she searched the ground for rocks. Robert kept pace with her. At last, she found three of roughly the same size near the water. With two rocks in her right hand and one in her left, she straightened. Then she threw a rock into the air at eye level and juggled all three.

“What?” A combination of awe and surprise colored his voice. “How did you learn to do that?”

“A jester taught me.” She relaxed into the rhythm. “He performed at our home in Lincoln when I was twelve.”

“You’re good at it.”

The whole time, she focused her gaze on the highest rock in rotation. “’Tis quite soothing. I’d forgotten about that. Mayhap I should do it more often.”

“You must teach me!”

She caught the third rock in her left hand and stopped. “You truly want to learn?”

With his deep dimples and twinkling eyes, he looked like a little boy. Almost. “I do!”

“Very well. We’ll start with two rocks and move on when you’re ready.”

She embraced the role of teacher and used the same technique the jester had shown her. Before long, Robert mastered juggling two rocks and was able to start from either the right hand or the left. But adding the third rock proved difficult.

“Enough,” he said finally. He strode to the nearest tree and placed the rocks beside a large, gnarled root. Straightening, he turned as she approached. “They’ll be there if you want them. As for me, I bow to your greater skill.”

She frowned. “You’re giving up?”

“I’m giving in…to another of my favorite things: dinner.”

She grinned. “We wouldn’t want you to miss that. But afterward, ’twill be my turn again.”

“And what shall we do?”

She glanced at the Long Wood on the other side of the pond. “I have an idea.”

His eyes narrowed. “You looked toward the pond. We’re coming back then?”

“We are. To the other side, though.”

“Ah. That gives me an idea.”

“Dare I ask what?”

His eyebrows shot up and down, and there was a devilish glint in his eyes. “You’ll see.”

****

With a full belly and a bundle of linen tucked under his arm, Robert followed Constance over the bridge and around to the far side of Woden’s Pond. She left the path for the woods and stopped about ten steps in.

Smiling, she gestured to the mass of bluebells beneath the trees. “One of my favorite sights. I adore bluebells…their color, their scent. I love to stand among them.” She bent over and ran her fingertips over one of the flowers.

He studied the curve of her backside. The memory of its full, round shape sans clothes stirred his manhood. Whoa! Steady on. Control. “You stand apart from them, if I may say so.”

She straightened and regarded him. “Apart? How?”

“They are beautiful, but not nearly as fetching as you.”

Unblinking, she stared at him. “I think you mean that.”

“Oh, I do.”

Her gaze dropped to the bundle he carried. “Isn’t it time you showed me what you brought with you? ’Tis your turn again.”

“I’ll tell you. A clean chemise and breeches, wrapped in two drying cloths.”

She frowned. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“That we wade in the pond.”

“Never in my life have I bathed in that much water.”

“I figured as much, but I think you’ll enjoy it. I, myself, would rather swim naked, but I trow you’d prefer us clad…at least, partially. Come, doff your clothes. The day is warm, and the water looks inviting.”

Moments later, they stood together—he in his breeches and she in her chemise—at the pond’s edge. He stepped forward, and the cool water enclosed his feet.

She looked down. “You have such big feet.”

He chuckled. “True, and they’re nice and cool. Come now, don’t stand there dithering. Join me.”

She stepped into the water. “Ooh. That is nice.”

“See?” He took her hand. “Onward.”

His feet squashed the pond dirt as they moved forward, and he relished the feeling.

Two feet shy of total submersion, Constance halted, pulling him to a stop as well. “Robert, I’m up to my ribs. Shouldn’t we stop?”

He stroked her hand with his thumb. “Would you rather wait here while I continue?”

“I would.”

“Fine.” He squeezed her hand, then released it. “I’ll return anon.”

He dove in and swam out deeper. The cool water caressed his body. Floating was freedom. Ripples and bubbles heightened sensation. Embracing the moment, he took a deep breath and plunged beneath the surface.

He was weightless. Unrestricted. Tucking his knees and head to his chest, he flipped forward. Then he swam upward, surfaced, and glanced toward shore.

Constance’s hands were crossed over her chest. “God be praised!”

He frowned and raced back to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You were underwater so long. I thought…” She bowed her head and stared at the undulating water.

He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and raised her head so she’d look at him. “Did you fear for me?”

Her amber eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “I did.”

Did his heart stop? No, it carried on, faster by the second. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

“Pleased that I pictured your death?”

He shook his head. “That you find me worth the worry.”

She averted her gaze, and her cheeks grew pink. Then she cleared her throat and regarded him again. “You swim remarkably well. How did you learn?”

“’Twas part of my training toward knighthood. But even as a boy, I loved the water.” He ran his hands down her arms, grasped her hands, and pulled her toward him.

“What are you doing?”

“I want you to know how it feels to swim. Lift your feet.”

Her brow furrowed. “But I’ll sink.”

“No. I’ve got you. Go on.”

She complied, dipping so low the water flirted with her shoulders, but he held her firmly afloat. Walking backward, he brought her deeper. Then he drifted back and forth, pulling her along with him.

Her frown became a smile, and she laughed. “This feels wonderful! I see why it enchants you.”

You enchant me. Her laughter filled him and even nudged that place inside which harbored pain and regret. Her glee was his. Soon he was laughing too.

She beamed up at him. “Mayhap I should learn to swim.”

“If you’re in earnest, you must first learn to float.” He moved to where the water was waist-high and scooped her into his arms. “Lie back.”

“How far back?”

“Until your body is aligned with the water’s surface.”

Slowly, she lay backward. He placed one hand beneath her head, while the other supported her back. Her chemise clung to her like a second skin, and his gaze was riveted to what lay visible beneath it.

Taut nipples. Ribs and belly. Round hips. The dark triangle that shielded her sex and pointed toward the promise of heaven.

His manhood went rigid. What delights await us both…when you’re ready.

“What now?” she asked.

He moved the hand that cradled her head to her upper back. “Raise your arms and put your hands behind your head.”

She obeyed, which only served to emphasize her ripe breasts. He swallowed hard.

“Make your elbows level with the water, and bend your knees so your legs open a bit.”

Her chest inched upward as she arched her back. Her legs parted.

He licked his lips. “Now just relax, and I’ll remove my hands.”

“What? You cannot—”

“Easy, Constance. I’m right here if you need me.”

He removed one hand and then the other. “There. You’re doing it.”

“I am!” She floated a few moments more, then stood and faced him. “Thank you for teaching me that.”

There’s so much I would teach you. His manhood twitched. ’Twas hidden underwater, but her breasts were not. “Well, you taught me to jiggle—”

“Jiggle?”

“Juggle!” God’s teeth! Focus on her eyes! “You taught me to juggle…at least as far as I was able. ’Twas only right I returned the favor.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “May I now ask one of you?”

“That depends on the favor.”

Her lips beckoned him. So full and pink. Almost his.

“I’ve kissed you but once. Yet the act has become one of my favorite things.”

“’Tis my turn, Robert.”

“Verily I tell you, give me this turn, and the next two shall be yours.”

She pursed her kissable lips. “Do you promise?”

He laid a hand over his heart. “On my life.”

Her golden eyes seemed to probe him, searching for…what? His integrity? Surely, he’d proven that by now. At last, she lifted her chin.

Her eyes closed. “Then kiss me.”

He pulled her close and kissed her with all the strength of his need for her. Their tongues entangled. Her hands moved up his chest and encircled his neck. In answer, he slid his hands down her back and pressed her floating smock against her bottom.

She moaned and swayed in his arms. He clutched her buttocks and pushed his throbbing member against her belly.

With a gasp, she broke the kiss and wrenched backward. “No. You asked for a kiss, and I gave it. I’m not ready for more.”

He stifled a groan. With reluctance, he slid his hands up to her back again. “How do you know?”

She sighed. “Because I panicked when I felt your…”

“Alicorn?”

“Oh, ’tis more than that, and there’s no use pretending any different.”

“But I like to pretend.”

She gave him a pointed look. “I’m well aware of that. But when I felt it on me…I don’t know.” With a huff, she bowed her head against his chest.

A rush of tenderness seized him, and he kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want you to fear any part of me.” He loosened his breeches. “Give me your hand.”

Her eyes were huge as she looked up at him. “Wherefore?”

“I want you to feel me.”

“You mean your…”

“Exactly. When it doesn’t attack, it won’t scare you so much.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re quite sure of that?”

“Trust me.”

She bit her lower lip, then held out her hand. He took it and slid it into his breeches. His manhood quivered on contact.

“My, ’tis hot!”

He pulled his hand from hers and steadied his breathing. “I give you the reins.”

“Reins?”

“Explore as you will.”

She hesitated a moment. Then her hand closed around him.

Aye! His heart pounded. “You see? Nothing to fear.”

She released him and glanced behind her. Twisting back around to the front, she looked toward the woods. “What if someone sees?”

“No one will. If you haven’t noticed, the people stay away from this area.”

“Still, anyone could be hiding in the Long Wood.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Speaking of long woods…”

“Oh.” She looked down at his erection, the tip of which peeked above the water. “I guess there’s no longer, stiffer wood than yours right now.” Her entire face reddened as she met his gaze. “I cannot believe I just said that.”

He grinned. “Neither can I, but you have a point.”

“What can you do about it?”

I can plunge it into your tight, hot—No! He gritted his teeth.

“Robert?”

He let out a long breath. “I could try to ignore it.”

She gave him a dubious look. “You might as well ignore the great spire of a cathedral.”

A guffaw escaped him. “A flattering comparison, and I thank you for it.” He sobered. “Of course, there is another option.”

“Which is?”

“I could stroke it.” He paused. Should I say it? He stared into her eyes. “Or you could.”

She pointed to her chest, and her hand grazed her right breast. “I?”

“I’d much prefer your touch. If you’re willing.”

Again, she bit her lip. “I guess I could try, but only if we move a little farther into the pond. If anyone should see us, the water will conceal the deed.”

“A good idea.” He grinned, and they went deeper.

“So…how…what do I…?”

“Hold it in your hand as before.”

Her hand closed around the shaft. She squeezed it, then tugged.

With teeth clenched, he sucked in his breath.

She gasped. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. ’Twas very right. Keep stroking.”

“Like this?”

“Aye.” He closed his eyes and let the moment wash over him.

The sound of lapping water. The scent of roses wafting from her wet hair. The grip of her perfect hand.

Heart thumping. Heat rising.

“Faster, Constance!”

She doubled her effort. His eyes shot open, and he seized her shoulders. Exquisite pressure built within, took him to the point of no return.

A jolt of pleasure sliced through him. His body shook from the force of it, and he groaned with satisfaction. Then he reached underwater and raised her benevolent hand to his lips.

He kissed her palm, the back of her hand, and each finger in turn. “The hand of mercy.”

She gave him a sideways look. “It must be, from your reaction. It felt that good?”

“Oh, Constance. You’ve no idea. A thousand thanks be yours.”

Her brow creased. “’Tis odd. I feel at once guilty and grateful.”

He folded her hand in both of his. “You’ve no reason to feel guilty, so put that out of your head this instant. But why are you grateful?”

“Because I eased your…what shall we call it? Torment?”

“’Tis a strong word but not ill-chosen.”

“The night we shared a bath, you mentioned the peak of lovemaking. That’s the feeling you just experienced, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “And I shall help you experience it…when the time comes.”

She pulled her hand away and hugged her torso. “What if it never comes? What if I cannot—”

“One step at a time.” With a light touch, he caressed her cheek. Then he flashed her a disarming smile. “Speaking of steps, our next one is your choice. Pray tell, what shall we do now?”