Warmth filled her and she wanted to snuggle closer to him. "Indeed. You've saved my life twice now." Three times, actually, but she wouldn't tell him about the first time, when he'd saved her life by getting her with child.
"Well, I'm more than glad I was able to."
She had to force her arms not to embrace him tightly in venerated gratitude. Although she could thank him until she was blue in the face, he would never truly know how much she appreciated all he'd done.
"I brought no food with me," he said. "I was on my way toDraughonwhen I heard you scream. Once we stop for the night, I'll find us something to eat."
"Very well."
Where would they stop for the night? They had seen one tiny village, but he'd carefully avoided it, wishing to have no witnesses to tell Claybourne they'd passed this way. Would they come upon another village, or would they have to slumber outside under the stars?
Would they sleep close together or far apart? Feeling his taut muscular body beneath her hands now brought back memories of that night they'd shared years ago. No one had ever touched her or made love to her the way he had. She hadn't known women could experience carnal pleasures; her husband had certainly never given her any. His beddings had been more like lying beneath a rutting boar. He'd cared naught for her pleasure. In the dark, he had thrust into her for a minute or so, until he spilled his seed. Then, saying naught, he would roll off her, yank up his breeches and leave the room.
Rebbie, on the other hand, had seduced her with kisses until she was mindless and weak with the need for him. He'd looked into her soul with his fathomless eyes and made love to all of her, not just her body. She'd never imagined that she would ever welcome a man's invasion and beg him to take her. But she had. Some primitive part of her wallowed in the wicked joining of their bodies.
Heat and mortification rushed over her now, just as it had then. She couldn't believe she'd had the courage to lay her hand upon his on the newel post, or go up to his room when he'd invited her. She knew not herself in that moment, yet at the same time, she had never felt more like herself than when she'd been with Rebbie. Something about touching him, kissing him was natural. And, that night, she couldn't get enough.
When she'd had to leave him before dawn, it felt as if someone had ripped out a part of her. Tears had streamed down her face as she'd slipped down the stairs and out the inn's door, the cowl over her head, hiding her identity.
Back at their lodgings, she'd pretended sleep when Stanbury had come in an hour later, sprawled in the bed, face up, fully clothed, and started snoring like a swine. He'd smelled like a distillery had blown up all over him. After he'd fallen asleep, she'd unfastened his clothing as if he'd had his way with her while drunk. Lying beside him, she'd wished she could've been back in bed with the young, dark-haired man at the inn. Though she knew not his name, she felt she knew him down to his soul.
Chapter Seven
"There's the old castle ruin." Rebbie pointed through the gloaming. "I'm glad I remembered where it was."
Calla leaned around his shoulder to take a look at the ruin he spoke of.
The heather-colored clouds to the west spread violet-rose light over the land and the crumbling stone structure before them.'Twasa fearsome and haunting sight—only half a castle, the lower portion. The windows and doors gaped dark, like hollowed-out eyes and a yawning mouth. The roof and most of the top had caved in or toppled to the grassy ground outside.
"Will we stay here?" She frowned, wondering how on earth this would be a good shelter.
"Aye, I prefer staying away from the villages because Claybourne may follow and get information from the people after we leave. If no one has seen us, 'twill be hard for him to find us."
That made sense, but she didn't see how this structure could provide any sort of protection, open to the sky as it was. Nor would it shield them from Claybourne if he showed up, for the curtain walls were mostly demolished.
At the ruin, he drew up, slid off the horse and helped her down. "Are you hungry now?" His slight grin made her stomach flutter, but 'twas not food she craved. She remembered him smiling many times that night, while they were making love and after, as if he couldn't contain his happiness. And it had been contagious. She had never felt such joy.
"Aye."
"I'll see if I can find a rabbit. But first, we need to start a fire." Taking the horse's bridle and offering her his arm, he led the way around the rubble where the stones had fallen down from the high walls, to the back of the castle ruin where the ground sloped downhill toward a forest. Now she understood; the ground floor of the castle was still intact. But the doors were all gone, of course.
"I'll scout around and see if any outlaws are camping out in the ruin or in the wood. Stay here with Devil. He'll protect you." Rebbie drew his sword from the scabbard.
"Oh." She hadn't considered other outlaws. "Have a care." She frowned, watching him slip inside the ruin. A minute later, he emerged from the far door. He nodded to her, then crept into the wood.
She glanced aside at Devil, noting his quiet stillness, perked ears and twitching nose. He watched the spot where Rebbie had disappeared into the wood. What a beautiful and amazing animal.
A few minutes later, Rebbie returned, walking briskly, his sword sheathed. "I didn't see a sign of anyone."
He went inside the ruin while she waited at the door. "How do you know this won't fall on us?" she asked.
"I checked it last year and 'twas fine."
The stone floor was littered with dirt and leaves. Overhead was a vaulted stone ceiling.
"I see no cracks in the ceiling. Vaults are generally very strong," he said, pushing at various stones in the wall. "It appears as solid as the day it was built."
She ventured into the dark room. An old stone sink sat beneath an open window. And through an archway, she spied an ancient bread oven and fire pit.
