She put her hands on her hips. “Now it is you who go too far. As if his size had anything to do with anything.”

  Those black eyes narrowed. “Oh, I assure you that his size will be of great import to you at some point.”

  Aislynn felt realization wash over her. Although she had never once considered her wedding night in such detail, and could hardly credit that Jarrod would have the temerity to speak on such a matter, she suddenly understood that they did make an incongruous pair. But she would not allow Jarrod Maxwell to know this. She drew a deep breath, not knowing why she would explain anything to this lout except that she felt the need to defend her friend. “Gwyn is a kind and gentle man now, as he has been since I met him. I was ten and small for my age—” she grimaced “—as I have always been. Though he was no more than fourteen, he did not speak to me as if I were an infant, as many were apt to do upon first meeting me.” She raked Jarrod with a cool glance. “Gwyn sees me for who I am. He will have every care for me—unlike others might.”

  “Are you perhaps referring to me?” There was cold steel in his voice though she saw a trace of chagrin in his eyes. But she could not give credence to that softer emotion and thus told herself she was mistaken.

  She glared at him defiantly. And then, before she could even think to deny him, Jarrod’s angry mouth had closed on hers. For a brief moment—just how brief would be mortifying afterward—Aislynn resisted.

  Then, as a streak of something warm and compelling flashed between them, she returned that pressure with all the yearning that had been waiting just below the surface since the night he’d first kissed her. Her lips softened, opening, inviting entry.

  Thus it was with some confusion that she felt herself being set away. Slowly she opened dazed eyes, which she didn’t recall closing, to look up at him. His eyes were dark, so dark the pupils were lost as he whispered harshly, “I am what I am, nothing less, nothing more.”

  Aislynn, not knowing what to say, what to do, nor how things had gone so dreadfully awry, simply put her fingers up to cover her bruised mouth. She murmured, “I…oh…I did not intend to goad. Please, forgive me.”

  Regret now colored those black orbs. “Oh, pray God forgive me, Aislynn. This is naught but madness. I have no right to question your father’s choice for you, or to…I want nothing more than…”

  She stopped him. “You do not have to say that you desire nothing so much as your freedom, I would not have it from you. And let me remind you, sir knight, when you tell yourself I have overstepped the boundaries between us that it was you who kissed me.” He opened his mouth but she halted him again. “Oh, and have no fear that I shall think it anything but my punishment for trying to goad you.”

  His eyes darkened further, his lips tightening, but Aislynn had no care for his anger. She had endured enough, not only of him, but of her own unprecedented and seemingly irrepressible desire for him.

  The crack of underbrush nearby drew his gaze from her. Aislynn swung around as Ulrick stepped into the clearing, his arms laden with dry wood. Both Aislynn and Jarrod stepped away from each other at the same moment.

  Clearly oblivious to their awkwardness, Ulrick dropped the wood into a pile beside the fire and said, “The rains have made finding dry wood a chore, that is certain.”

  Jarrod nodded. His voice was husky with what she knew was suppressed rage. “We will arrive in Clumney on the morrow. There we will find more comfortable accommodations. At least for one night.”

  Aislynn did not look at him though this news surprised her. She hurriedly told herself it should not. Having known nothing of the knight’s plans, anything was possible.

  She ran trembling hands over her skirts as she made a great show of resettling herself on the log. Desperately wishing to avoid a chance meeting with either man’s gaze, Aislynn told herself it would be very good to get in out of the cold. To perhaps even take a bath. Yet her agitation with herself and Jarrod was strong enough to dampen any pleasure the notion might have brought.

  Why had she baited Jarrod so? Why did she care what he did, or thought of Gwyn, or how he treated her?

  She wished that she were indifferent to him. But her reaction to his kiss had proved that she was not, for the very thought of it brought her to an aching desire for more kisses.

  There would be no more kisses. And she certainly would not pry where she was not wanted, despite the fact that his violent reaction to her question about the ribbon had only fueled her curiosity about the knight.

  Aislynn was aware of the men’s quiet conversation but, in her misery, heard none of it. She roused somewhat when Ulrick moved to the fire to turn the rabbits upon the spit.

  Without her permission, her gaze moved to follow Jarrod Maxwell as he came forward to use a stick to push the hottest of the coals closer beneath the now sputtering rabbits. It did not waver when he moved to put more wood on the fire. As the fresh wood began to flicker, the light flared up, warm and rosy, casting the lines of his face into sharp relief. His face was far too handsome for her peace of mind. As were those shoulders too strong, and the hands that placed the pieces of wood across the flames too deft.

  At that moment he looked up and his black eyes, made infinitely more mysterious and deep by the flickering light of the fire, met hers. And for a brief instant Aislynn was sure that he could see all that was going on inside her, that he knew her every thought, her every yearning wish.

  She felt herself flush from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Hurriedly, not caring what he or Ulrick might think, she rose and went to the small tent, crawling inside. She lay there, unmoving, in the darkness.

  Ulrick’s voice came from just outside. “Are you well, my lady?”

  She took a deep breath, her tone surprisingly even. “Aye.”

  His voice had not lost that edge of concern. “You have not eaten.”

  “I am tired.” As if to emphasize her words, she pulled the bedcover over her though he could not see this.

  He answered with obvious sympathy. “We have traveled far this day.”

  Then she heard the softness of his footfalls on the damp earth as he moved away. Aislynn could not suppress a sigh of relief.

  In what seemed like a very long time, she heard the sounds the two men made as they readied their own bedrolls. Her mind supplied her with all too vivid images of one of them, his strong frame outlined against the rosy flames.

  Only then was she able to close her eyes in spite of her exhaustion. Unfortunately, even closed, her burning eyes were not free of images of herself and the exotic knight, images that kept her awake long into the night.

  Jarrod led the small party forward with surprisingly little attention on where they were going, which dismayed him somewhat. This area of England, not far from the Scottish border, was not unfamiliar to him. His father’s lands at Kewstoke were within a few hours’ ride of the market town. Yet, though he was more restless than he had ever been in his life, it seemed to have very little to do with any lingering pains of childhood.

  He could not help feeling badly about what had happened between him and Aislynn, about what he had said and done. Even the fact that she had almost gotten him to talk about…things he did not wish to discuss with anyone, let alone a wide-eyed woman who had far too much influence on him than he cared to admit, did not give him any excuse to completely forget himself.

  Lord help him for telling her that Gwyn was a poor match for her, and why. Jarrod had thought of little else since seeing them together, but he’d had no right to say such a thing. And then to kiss her.

  It had all started because she felt he had treated her ill. With a lack of civility, as she termed it. That had certainly not been his intent.

  Damn her condemning eyes.

  He had thought that he had found a solution to his difficulty in allowing Sir Ulrick to act as an intermediary. It had not prevented him from thinking of her, from casting covert glances toward her as she rode or sat beside the fire or talked with her father’s knight.

  It had not occurred to him that Aislynn would think him rude or become angry. She had made her feelings about his having kissed her, about her reluctance to travel with him, very clear, indeed.

  Kissed her! His mind rebelled at calling what had happened between them that night at Bransbury a kiss. Yet Jarrod must find some way to distance himself from that night, from the powerful feelings that had driven him beyond rational thought and control.

  She was to be wed to another man. A man who was kind and gentle—quite the opposite of her opinion of himself. And how could he fault her for that opinion when he had kissed her so brutally?

  Jarrod had lain wakeful most of the night, angry with himself and her, wondering what new disaster the new day would bring between them. But he need not have concerned himself. This morn it had been more than obvious Aislynn was avoiding him. She had managed to ready herself for the day’s ride without so much as one word to him, even through Sir Ulrick.

  Jarrod should be glad of this, for he did not trust himself to hide the truth of his unrest from the other knight. At the same time, he was perturbed by her continued outrage. He had no intention of pouncing upon her as she seemed to imagine he was wont to do with women.

  She had gotten the wrong notion of his expertise with women from Christian. Jarrod was eager to have a chat with his friend once he found him. Though there had been a number of women in his life, none of them had wanted more than the passion of the moment. It was the way he preferred to live. One could not count on anything but the moment. He had lost too much in his life—his father, his home, The Dragon—to believe any differently.

  He reminded himself of this each time he was tempted to go to Aislynn to try to make peace. He would not wish for more than there was between them, even if she was not promised to another.

  It was with some relief that he, at last, saw the town of Clumney, which he had deliberately chosen because of its busy market and the fact that he had a connection there, come into sight ahead of them. He had known that they were getting closer throughout the day as more fellow travelers appeared along the road. Here he hoped to gain more detailed information on finding Ashcroft.

  Jarrod rode toward the center of the town, knowing that he would find the hostelry he sought there. This night he would not sleep with nothing more than the darkness and the aging knight between himself and the undeniable temptation of Aislynn Greatham.

  Nothing could have induced Aislynn to ask Jarrod Maxwell anything, though she wondered whence they were going. Even if her very life depended upon doing so.

  Yet, in spite of her anger and resentment of the man, she could not completely ignore her own excitement at being in Clumney. Never had she seen so many folk in one place. Never had she dreamed there was such a gathering of young and old, rich and poor, large and small alike.

  Her gaze lingered on the fine fabrics of the ladies’ garments, as they passed with their retinues of knights. She saw the awed faces of those as new to such sights as herself, the eager expressions of those with carts of goods to sell. And she deliberately breathed in the smells of the town, which consisted of the acrid scent of burning wood, both sodden and dry hay, the muck in the streets and the musky excitement of so many bodies all in one place. It was pleasant and unpleasant at one and the same time.

  Jarrod guided them, seeming to have some notion of where he was going as he moved through the throng on his stallion. Sir Ulrick remained close behind with the donkey.

  Aislynn was not concerned for her safety. She hardly imagined anyone would mark her a target in her travel-stained gown of amber velvet. In this disheveled state, she felt less than noteworthy and doubted she would be paid the slightest heed were she to wander the streets alone.

  She drew up short as she realized that Jarrod had come to a halt before her. Looking ahead, Aislynn saw that they had stopped before a two-story structure with walls of whitewashed wattle and daub.

  A neatly painted sign proclaimed it the Pheasant Inn. Jarrod Maxwell dismounted and handed his reins to a lad dressed in filthy gray clothing. The boy bowed and held out his hand for the coin Jarrod put into it. Aislynn could not help seeing the eagerness with which the lad poked the generous coin into his waist as he bowed with even greater deference.

  Not wishing to acknowledge the warmth she felt at Jarrod’s benevolence, Aislynn deliberately took the hand that Ulrick held out for her and slipped to the ground beside him. Jarrod had already turned to go inside. Her head held high, Aislynn stepped into the dim interior behind him.

  Aislynn was in no way prepared for what she saw when she entered. There before her was Jarrod Maxwell locked in the embrace of a comely and voluptuous woman with a fall of lovely dark hair. She fair squealed with pleasure as she said, “By my eyes, Jarrod Maxwell!”

  Aislynn felt her stomach churn with some unfamiliar emotion when Jarrod drew back and turned to her. “Sadona, this is the lady Aislynn Greatham. She is Christian Greatham’s sister.” The strain in his voice was audible to Aislynn’s ears.

  The woman bowed her head. “My lady.”

  Jarrod swung around to face the voluptuous beauty once more. “We would like to break our journey here. If you have accommodation for us?”

  The woman raised her brows and ran an assessing gaze over Aislynn. It was obvious that she was curious about what he was doing with Aislynn, but she restrained it, saying only, “If you are willing to share, we have room. We are quite busy just now with the harvest finished for some time on the surrounding farms.”

  Jarrod shook his head. “That would do well enough for me and Sir Ulrick.” He indicated the other knight where he stood behind Aislynn. “The lady must have her own chamber.”

  “I do not see how I can…”

  Jarrod put a gentle finger to her lips, and his tone was softly teasing. “Our journey has been difficult and the lady has not had a bath since we left her father’s keep. And more pity that I do not know when the chance to sleep in a bed will come again. I would hold myself the most grateful of men if you could find a private space for her.”

  Aislynn felt a strange stirring that had nothing to do with the anger she had felt toward him over the past days. Here was a side of Jarrod that she had never seen, a disarming flirtatiousness that would melt the coldest of hearts like magic. What made it even worse to witness was that she would never find herself the recipient of it.

  Her chest tight, Aislynn watched as the woman flipped a silky strand of dark hair back over her shoulder before putting her hands on those womanly hips. She cast Jarrod a wry grin. “For you, my lovely, I will find something.” Even as he smiled down at her, she hurried to add, “But mind you it will be small.”

  Jarrod bowed. “You have my thanks.” He smiled most winningly, his teeth white against his dark complexion, bringing about a fluttering sensation in Aislynn’s own chest. “And could you arrange a bath for the lady as well?”

  The woman leaned forward and to Aislynn’s utter amazement kissed him full on the lips. “Anything, when you smile at me that way. But it will cost you extra.”

  Jarrod shrugged. “Of course.”

  Aislynn could barely believe that she had witnessed this intimate exchange, even if she was to be the beneficiary of its outcome. Jarrod had never once smiled at her that way. And what was he thinking to allow that woman to kiss him like that?

  And she certainly did not wish to stay in this place, with this woman.

  Even if it meant having a bath.

  The woman now swung around and bowed to Aislynn. “If you will come this way, my lady?”

  There was not a word Aislynn could say that would not give away all the tangled feelings inside her. Holding her head high, she moved to follow their hostess up a narrow flight of stairs to the upper floor. She was fully conscious of Jarrod and Ulrick behind her.

  At the top was not so much a corridor as a long narrow landing, off which opened several doors. Sadona led them to one at the very front of the building.

  Sadona opened the narrow door and stepped into a room that was illuminated by one tiny window. It was very small, barely long enough for a tall man and of an equal width. Aislynn watched as Sadona moved forward and took up one of two thin pallets that lay upon the wood plank floor, then dragged it out into the hall where they stood.

  She waved Aislynn in. “Your private chamber, my lady.” She then moved to the next door and opened it.

  Aislynn, not knowing what to do, followed as Jarrod and Sir Ulrick were led into the next chamber. Peering in from the hallway, Aislynn saw that though the room was somewhat larger, the accommodations were no less rustic.

  Here their hostess deposited the pallet she had taken from the other chamber with the four others that already lay upon the floor. She then swung around and said, “If you’ve no need of anything else, I’ve other work to attend.”

  He nodded. “There is one other matter.” As she listened attentively he went on, “Do you know of a village called Ashcroft? I believe it is in Scotland.”

  Her brow creased in a thoughtful frown, then she shook her head. “Nay, I am sorry but I do not.”

  Jarrod bowed. “Again you have my thanks.”

  And again she leaned forward and kissed him. Sadona then patted him on one lean cheek before making her way toward the door.

  Aware of her own wide eyes, Aislynn tried not to stare as the buxom woman bowed in passing and said, “I shall have your bath readied whenever you request it.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Aislynn replied with a quick nod of assent.

  Sadona then headed back the way they had come. Aislynn tried even harder not to look at Jarrod as the echo of her footsteps on the wooden stair faded away. But she could not help herself, for the tormented churning of her stomach would not ease. He seemed occupied with his own thoughts as he moved to the door.

  Sir Ulrick spoke into the silence. “These accommodations will not do for the lady Aislynn.”

  Jarrod swung around with a shrug. “I admit that they are less grand than I expected, but at least it will be warm and your lady will have a bath. It will only be for this one night as I fully expect to have a better idea of whence we go by morn.”

 

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