Sword Play Read online

  Edward sighed. “Well then. We should prepare.”

  Magnus glanced around the room. “I wanted to talk to you about that. This place…Ravynne’s Keep…the hall here, they’re all—what’s the word I’m searching for—austere.”

  Edward raised an eyebrow.

  “They’re clean and functional, and have housed this family well, but since Mother died, they’ve become less welcoming, less…homelike. Colder and harsher, somehow.”

  He paused, thinking of the elegance of Mistress Swann’s residence, and, suddenly, of the warmth he’d felt in his mother’s Solar. “We need to make changes, Edward. Before the Swanns arrive. I need some woman to add those touches to Ravynne’s Keep that will make it a gracious castle and not just a Keep, more fit for knights than their ladies. Do you understand?”

  Edward nodded thoughtfully, a gleam in his eye. “I do indeed, my Lord. And how do you suggest we do this?”

  “Well, perhaps there are some women, tenants or servants maybe, who have traveled with other families, someone who would be able to advise us on how to go on…”

  Magnus trailed off as he noticed a smile barely quirking the corner of his Steward’s normally forbidding mouth.

  “You have a plan, Edward. I can see it.”

  Edward rose and crossed the room to a servant who was freshening the rushes beneath the large wooden dining table. He whispered something and the servant nodded and left.

  Edward returned to Magnus. “As it happens, lad, I have just the solution to your request. While you were gone, a relative of mine arrived here, and requested permission to stay a little while. She…”

  “You put her in the Solar, didn’t you?” asked Magnus, interrupting.

  “Damn you, lad, haven’t I taught you to keep a civil tongue in your head and not interrupt others?”

  Magnus looked suitably apologetic, suddenly feeling about seven years old.

  “Yes, I put her in the Solar. She is a distant connection of my sister’s, and I’ve always looked upon her as my niece, although there are few, if any, blood ties between us.”

  Edward paced slowly up and down as he spoke. “She was married young to an older knight. She had no land to bring with her to the match, her dowry was in more portable riches, jewels and the like. They lived at his castle for four years before he felt the urge to go off and fight, and managed to get himself spiked by his enemies during the battle. Their marriage had not been fruitful, and the castle went to his son by his first marriage, leaving her at loose ends.”

  Magnus nodded, knowing well that women had the most to lose from these marriages of convenience.

  “She has wealth,” continued Edward, “and could have settled in any one of the small homes that dotted her husband’s property. But her desire was to travel, to find her own way and her own independence, and for this I respect her enormously.”

  Magnus listened, interested at Edward’s praise of this woman. His Steward was not a man to give such praise lightly. “And so she is here?”

  Edward nodded. “She arrived scarcely a week after you left. It was not her intention to take up residence here permanently, but simply to visit for a short while, subject to your permission. She and I have some shared memories, and it has been pleasant spending time with her and reminiscing. Of course, if you want her gone…”

  Magnus waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t be absurd. Any relative of yours is always welcome at Ravynne. You know that.”

  “Well, it occurs to me that she is the ideal person to advise you on how to turn the Keep into a Bower.”

  Magnus snorted as Edward’s lip curled scornfully. “Neither of us knows frills and furbelows, or how to make a silk purse out of a cow’s udder. Perhaps she can be of use while she’s here?”

  Edward looked over Magnus’ chair and beyond to the stairs. “And perhaps it’s time for you to make her acquaintance.”

  Magnus rose, stretching to his full height as he turned.

  A woman stood on the bottom step.

  She was of moderate height, and her figure was cloaked in kirtle and overtunic of some dark stuff, embroidered heavily with silks in many different colors.

  A white veil was secured to her head by a rolled band of dark fabric, and the ends of the veil passed beneath her chin to fasten above her ears.

  Her features were calm, her expression tranquil.

  Edward beckoned her forward with one of his rare smiles. “Magnus, here she is. May I introduce Lady Constance Atherton?”

  *~~*~~*

  Constance felt certain her feet were frozen to the floor.

  It was him.

  There was no doubt in her mind. Although she’d not seen his features clearly when he’d claimed her body and her soul, she knew without question that this was the man who had sent her into a whirlwind of ecstasy.

  His hair, his stature, the low rumble of his voice…by Saint Beatrice, she could almost smell him.

  What to do? Where to go? To run? To hide? To pack up and leave as fast as she could before he came to the same conclusion?

  Edward was holding out his hand to her, encouraging her to come forward. There were no real choices to be made. She would have to see this through, and pray he didn’t recognize her.

  Slowly, one foot in front of the other, she made her way to the two men, schooling her features to reflect none of the turbulence that made her want to seek the nearest garderobe and vomit.

  “Magnus, Lady Constance is indeed using the Solar at the moment, and I believe you’ll find that recommendation enough for her abilities to help you in your project.”

  Her attention was caught. He needed her help?

  “Lady, it’s an honor,” said Lord Magnus, formally accepting her outstretched hand and barely touching it with his lips.

  She curtsied, trying for balance and elegance in spite of the trembling knees hidden beneath her skirts.

  “My Lord,” she replied, voice low but thankfully firm. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for your hospitality.”

  “It seems that we have found a way for you to repay that debt, Lady,” smiled Magnus.

  Oh the man could smile.

  Constance stared at his handsome face, blue eyes twinkling down at her from beneath strong brows, white teeth glinting, lips curved in a grin.

  And oh, those lips. She knew only too well how they felt, how they tasted, and how much she yearned to feel and taste them again.

  “How may I render assistance, my Lord?” she asked, fighting the urge to tell him exactly how he could render her assistance. For at least the next few hours.

  “We need your feminine wisdom, my Lady.”

  She raised one eyebrow in question.

  “‘Tis true, Constance-lass,” grinned Edward, looking affectionately at her. “His Lordship here is to take a wife. This wife would not, in his Lordship’s opinion, enjoy finding the Keep as it is now, but would prefer something a little less—what was that word? Austere?”

  Magnus nodded.

  Constance felt her heart splatter on the stone floor at her feet. He was to wed. Well, damn it all to the darkest depths of Purgatory.

  She squared her shoulders and kept her voice cool. “I’m sure there must be others better qualified than I to take on such a task, my Lord, Uncle Edward. I know naught of the lady who is to be Mistress of Ravynne. Not her tastes, her preferences…mayhap she would prefer to accomplish such things herself…”

  “Nonsense, Lady,” interjected Magnus. “You are a woman of taste, I can tell…” he grinned apologetically. “I peeked into the Solar earlier. You have excellent taste. You have traveled, managed a castle, from what Edward tells me, and have all the attributes necessary to be my advisor in such things. And it’s of no matter what Mistress Swann likes or dislikes, she can take care of such stuff herself. My goal is to attain an elegant and welcoming appearance for Ravynne’s Keep. One that will insure her approval.”

  Constance blinked at this little speech. No matter what his bride liked? It did
n’t sound like much of a love match, that was for certain.

  She turned to Edward. “And your opinion, Uncle Edward?”

  He was silent for a moment, watching the two of them. “My opinion? Well, not that Magnus here gives a rat’s arse for it, but I think you two will work well together. Very well. So get to it. The day is half-wasted already.”

  And on that gruff note, he spun on his heel and marched from the hall.

  Chapter Four

  Well, damn Edward, thought Magnus, staring down at the woman in front of him. Now what was he supposed to do?

  “Perhaps if you’d care to tell me what sorts of things you’d like to see in the Keep, my Lord?” she asked, her voice pleasingly gentle. “I understood you to say you’d seen the Solar and graciously approved the additions Uncle Edward permitted.”

  Magnus nodded and moved towards her.

  She moved back.

  He took another step, piqued by her reluctance to come too close. Women usually did the reverse where he was concerned. “I would say the Solar is a good place to start, Lady Constance. If you wouldn’t mind?”

  He waved his arm for her to precede him up the stairs and managed to close the distance between them as she turned away.

  It was with great difficulty that he stopped himself from stumbling as he neared her.

  That scent.

  Redolent of apple blossom, it wafted from her like a faint cloud and sent shivers of desire running to his loins.

  Was it likely that every damn woman he was fated to meet wore the same fragrance? Or was it remotely possible…

  He slowed his pace, taking his first good long look at the woman striding the stairs ahead of him.

  She was of a fair height, and carried herself well, but of her figure he could detect little, thanks to the obscuring folds of her clothing.

  Her hair was hidden beneath the light but opaque veil that swirled around her face, and he hadn’t thought to look at her features with any degree of intensity.

  Her backside swayed above him as she trod the stairs, and she slowed, sensing his presence behind her.

  She glanced back at him and the light struck sparks from her hazel eyes, turning them for an instant into the golden-green of an early spring field.

  By the Saints, even if he’d never touched this woman before, she was doubtless attractive.

  But as he followed her up the steps, Magnus became more and more convinced that it must be the woman from the lake.

  It all added up.

  She would have access to his property and would have lived there a sufficient amount of time to find his private lake.

  She was no shy virgin, unskilled in lovemaking yet looking to expand her knowledge. No, she was a woman secure in her own desires and her ability to enjoy the act, even match his passions with her own.

  And she could have fled back to the Keep on foot, thus vanishing from his side as he slept.

  And above all, there was her scent. The fragrance she left behind her that delicately swirled up his nostrils as he mounted the stairs in her wake. He could close his eyes and breathe it in, much as he had done when he was buried to the hilt inside her.

  She was, unquestionably, the woman he’d fucked with such joyous abandon.

  She was also the woman who had pulled him even deeper with her legs behind his backside, who had moaned out her pleasure and then cried with joy as she’d climaxed around the hardness of his cock and squeezed him into traveling to oblivion with her.

  And she was treating him like a complete stranger.

  That would never do.

  Magnus Ravynne, Lord of Ravynne’s Keep, knew a challenge when he saw one and Lady Constance Atherton was a challenge.

  One he intended to master.

  *~~*~~*

  She could feel his eyes on her backside. Literally feel the heat of his gaze as she preceded him up the circling steps to the hallway leading to the residential chambers.

  Her soft slippers made no sound, so she was very aware of the thud of his boots as he followed her, and the silken swish of her skirts as she carefully lifted them before each step.

  Why did this man affect her like this?

  Granted she’d lain with him and cried out beneath him, but it was naught but a momentary lapse in judgment on her part, and a natural instinct on his. The coming together of man and woman in a basic coupling that should have meant no more than the mutual fulfillment of the need to mate.

  They were both adults, and she was a widow. Neither were immature nor possessed of anything other than the need to enjoy each other’s bodies.

  So why was she so intensely aware of his body behind hers, his eyes as they swept her backside, and even the heat radiating from him which felt like a hand caressing her?

  She suppressed a tremble and led him to the door of the Solar.

  There she paused, waiting for him to enter the room first, wondering what he wanted her to do for the castle. Needing to catch her breath without him behind her where she couldn’t see him.

  And above all, aware of his forthcoming marriage.

  But he politely ushered her in before him, and once again she turned away, knowing that her back was to him and his eyes unreadable.

  Damn the man. He was putting her on the defensive and they’d spoken barely a word to each other.

  Magnus closed the door behind them and the large room suddenly shrank as his presence filled it to overflowing.

  Nervously, Constance crossed to the window and sat in her favorite place, a padded seat next to the embrasure. She watched as he strolled around the room, examining the hangings Edward had found for her to cover the walls, and bending to touch the furs that lay on her bed. The curtains were tied back with cord now, revealing the bed in all its softness.

  She blushed, for some completely unknown reason, at the sight of his fingers stroking the fur. She recalled how his hands had felt as they stroked her own curly pelt between her legs, and her nipples beaded beneath her kirtle.

  He was radiating a sexuality that was finding a responsive audience in the depths of her body, and it was most unnerving.

  She took the opportunity to study him from beneath her lashes. Very tall and well-built, as behooved a knight of renown. Those shoulders had been earned beneath the weight of his sword and the incredible stresses of battling in armor and mail.

  Yet the overall appearance was not wholly muscular, being tempered with a goodly length of leg, showing firm thighs and nicely turned calves. He was clad now in soft wool braies, which clung to him, showing every line and twist as he moved around the room.

  He clearly was no follower of courtly fashion, as he disdained the codpiece that was beginning to become essential for men of a certain wealth and dignity. His waist was supple, his movements sure.

  His hair brushed his shoulders, shining now from his recent bath, and it was a burnished mahogany in the sunlight. His intensely blue eyes were focused and assessing as he completed his tour of the Solar.

  “Lady, I compliment you. This room has all the marks of a comfortable place of rest and leisure, fit for the finest hands.”

  Constance nodded, not trusting her voice yet, and not quite sure how to answer such a pleasing phrase.

  “I will give you complete freedom. You may ransack my storage lofts, raid my treasury, and conscript my servants. Take whatever you need.”

  He drew a breath, and glanced around him once more.

  “Just bring your touch of elegance to my Keep. Turn it into a welcoming place like this room. A place fit for…”

  “Your bride?” Constance couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. She knew it was wrong, inappropriate, and no business of hers. But the thought of this man, whom she had known so intimately, lying with another, raised a small flame of anger deep within her breast.

  He nodded, and crossed to her tapestry frame, distracted from her words as the sunlight brushed glittering fingers across its surface.

  Quickly, she rose. “So, my Lord, you’
d wish me to work on all the chambers? Or just the great hall?”

  She turned his attention back to herself and slipped between him and the tapestry.

  “Just the great hall to start, I think,” he murmured, trying to see over her shoulder. “And perhaps the Lord’s chamber.”

  He tried to see over the other shoulder.

  Constance moved casually to intercept his gaze.

  “Lady, it would appear you have some skill with the needle. May I not be permitted to view your work?”

  Constance’s heart tripled its rhythm. “Nay, my Lord. I cannot think that you’d be interested in a simple piece of needlework. Besides, my skills are commonplace, I assure you.”

  Magnus’ jaw firmed.

  “I doubt that anything about you is commonplace, Lady Constance.”

  With a swift move, he grasped her waist, lifted her, swung her to the side and plopped her down on her feet again, before she’d had time to do more than draw a breath.

  By Saint Beatrice. He was going to look at her tapestry. Damn him. She should have had the wisdom to hide the bloody thing when she wasn’t working on it.

  He bent over, examining the design, and made a slight sound.

  Hell and Purgatory. It was too late now.

  *~~*~~*

  Magnus leaned closer, eyeing the tapestry, and blinking. He wasn’t quite sure he’d seen what he thought he’d seen.

  She hovered around him, fussing, trying to distract him. It was working on some levels but not on others.

  He knew she was there. He could sense her, scent her, feel her body close to him. He was pretty certain he could hear the silk as it slipped over her skin and he was having a very hard time keeping his cock under control. He was none too sure that the length of his jerkin would conceal the length of his lust.

  But his mind concentrated on this tapestry, which she had tried so hard to ignore.

  There was a thick border already worked, several inches of ornate decoration, interspersed with the touches of golden thread that had first caught his eye.

  Words had been woven into the design, subtle and beautifully blended—but words, nevertheless. And in Latin, too.