She clung to him a moment before she lifted her mouth to his. The gentle brush of her lips sent a bolt of heat raging through him. Although she might be physically weaker, Carice had invisible weapons of her own.
God help him.
An hour later, Carice relaxed in a small wooden tub filled with steaming water. Her hair was bound up in a knot at the top of her head, and she sighed with relief. The hot bath was sprinkledwith herbs that the healer had recommended for her, and the old woman had given her hot tea made with crushed mint. The drink had soothed her stomach, and with each hour, she felt better. She was grateful for the chance to be warm, though her heart had gone cold.
Raine had gone below stairs to fetch food, and while he was gone, it had given her a chance to think. Her mood was heavy, her mind torn apart with anger and grief. Though he had not recognized this place, she knew it was the home of Diarmuid MacMurrough, the Irish King of Leinster. Lady Aoife was his daughter who had been given in marriage to Richard de Clare, the Norman leader also known as Strongbow. King Diarmuid’s lands were only a short journey southwest of Tara.
Carice drew up her knees in the small tub, so torn about what to do. It was clear now that Raine had brought her to the east instead of the west. His desire to travel at night was a means of deceiving her, and she suspected he had been obeying orders all along. More than likely he had intended to deliver her into the hands of the High King.
The thought made her want to scream, to pummel her fists against his chest and release a cry of rage. He had taken advantage of her illness, knowing that she could not stop him. She had been so stupid to believe that he would help her.
Hot tears welled up in her eyes, for she ought to confront him. She should demand that Raine leave her here, though she knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he might take her away and give her over to the High King. Or perhaps to the Norman soldiers they had encountered a few hours ago. She was certain now that theywere his men, and undoubtedly, they had followed him from the beginning.
Hurt balled up inside her that she had let herself believe he cared. When he had touched her, she had come undone, her emotions crumbling beneath his caress. Beneath his lies, she’d also sensed the traces of guilt and regret. Perhaps he did care about her, though he might not admit it. He could have insisted that they continue traveling; instead, he had stopped here in the afternoon.
Why? Was it because he worried for her health? Or was it because he was wavering in his decision? He had not yet given her into the hands of her enemies.
A grain of an idea took hold within her. Was it possible to change his mind? Aye, Raine was a soldier, a man bound to the king’s will who could not put his own desires first. But what if he decided not to go through with his plans? What if she could convince him to let her go?
Confusion clouded Carice’s thoughts, for she knew not what Raine thought of her. He had protected her, time and again...but was it only out of duty? Had he kissed her, wanting only to deceive her?
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Whatever time they had remaining was sliding through her fingers like droplets of water. She didn’t know if there was a way to turn him back from this course. Was it possible?
The door opened quietly, and she shielded herself, only to realize it was him. Raine had a tray of food in his hands, but he turned away immediately. After he set down the tray, he loweredthe latch to bolt the door. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were—I mean, I should not have entered without knocking.”
“It’s all right.” But even so, she felt the blush all over her skin. Had he seen her naked body?
Did you want him to?The voice of her conscience was chiding, and she closed her eyes, stammering. “The—the healer thought if I bathed in these herbs, it might help.”
He kept his distance, standing on the far side of the room, his gaze averted. “And did it?”
“Yes. It felt good to be warm.” She studied him closely, wondering what thoughts were going through his mind. A hundred questions passed through her, but she kept silent. If she pretended that she didn’t know what was happening, he might reveal more of his intentions.
Raine’s shoulders were lowered, and he said, “I’ll leave the food here and return later. Shall I send for a maid to help you?”
“Don’t go,” she murmured. “Stay and talk with me a while.”
He kept his back turned. For a while, he remained silent, as if he knew not what to say. “What do you want from me, Carice?”
I want to know why you’ve brought me here. And if you intend to go through with this betrayal.
She bit her lip, wondering what answers he would give. “How much longer will we travel?”
“A day and a half. Perhaps two at the most.” He stood with his palm against the wall, and at least this was an honest answer.
“I suppose you’ll be glad to be rid of me,” she whispered. “After all the trouble I’ve given you.”
And because it will bring you into the High King’s favor.
But what purpose would that serve? He didn’t need King Rory’s favor—he needed the favor of his own ruler, King Henry. Was that why he had been sent? To deliver her into their hands as a show of good faith? The Normans and Irish had a deceptive peace, one that hovered on the brink of war.
“No, I won’t be glad to leave you,” he said. His voice was husky, and she didn’t know whether it was desire or regret she heard within the tone. Her foolish heart wanted to believe that there could be more.
“Come here,” she bade him. She wanted to look into his eyes, to read the thoughts he would not speak.
“I must leave you alone to clothe yourself,” he said. “But I will return.”
He started to go, but she called out to him, “Bring me the drying cloth first.”
