Page 20 of One Knight in the Forest

“Good. I was wondering… Would it be all right to get out of this bed for a short while?”

“Well—”

“To stretch my legs? Please?” She closed the tome and set it down. “I am not usually lying still for so long. At the keep, I am always busy, looking after Timothy or helping Edwina with tasks.”

’Twould be better for Magdalen to stay off her hurt limb. Yet, Cyn understood the restlessness she was experiencing; he’d been confined to bed due to an illness two winters past and had nearly gone mad with boredom.

Moreover, if he wanted to win her trust, he should concede to her now and again.

“All right,” he said, “as long as you let me help you.”

She nodded.

He returned the tome to its special shelf by the fire while she pushed aside the blankets. As he walked back to the cot, he tried not to watch her, but he simply couldn’t resist. As she moved, the linen shirt shifted across her upper body, enhancing the tantalizing shape of her full, round breasts underneath. Folds of the cloth gathered at the tops of her thighs, drawing his attention down to her smooth, bared skin. And then there were her legs, long and elegant, like a doe’s.

Heat burned in his gut, along with a wicked craving he didn’t dare acknowledge. He averted his gaze and busied himself with grouping the candles on the table. He must have made a small sound, because she asked, “Did you say something?”

“Nay. I…was mulling how best to get you down from the cot. Here. ’Tis a bit cool this morning.” He grabbed the top blanket from the bed and helped wrap it around her shoulders, which thankfully removed her partial nakedness from his view.

Sitting on the edge of the cot, her head bowed, she heaved in a breath. Her hands clenched the bed frame.

“Are you dizzy?” Cyn managed to keep the worry from his tone. If only her long hair hadn’t slipped forward to hide her face.

“A little. I will be fine, though,” she quickly added. Her head lifted, and he was relieved to see color in her cheeks.

“If you are not fine, I will put you straight back in bed.”

“Of that, Sir Knight, I have no doubt.”

She was teasing him; of that he had no doubt. Before he could gather his thoughts to reply, though, she’d stepped down from the bed and was grabbing onto him to steady herself.

On instinct, his arms went around her waist, drawing her in close. She fitted perfectly against him, molding to him as if they’d been made for one another. This near, he caught a sweet floral smell clinging to her skin. The scent reminded him of his childhood, of his days climbing the cherry trees in the orchard of his sire’s castle. Cyn inhaled more of her tantalizing fragrance, while fighting the ache spreading through him; he’d been happiest when he’d been a child—and when he’d been in love with Francine.

Magdalen curled her hands into the front of his tunic, and her right palm pressed over his heart. Slowly, she lifted her chin, her dark lashes flicking up, her focus shifting from the neckline of his garment to his throat, then up to his jaw, then higher, until their eyes met.

The moment their gazes locked, she startled, as if she’d experienced an intense physical jolt. He’d certainly felt the fiery spark; it had lanced straight through him to heighten the sensual fire within him.

He clamped his jaw, for he resented his desire. Never again would he be enslaved by it and rendered a lovesick fool. ’Twas a vow made to himself that he intended to keep. He drew back slightly.

A question formed in Magdalen’s eyes.

Ignoring the answering tug on his soul, he said, “Come. I will help you to that cushioned chair by hearth.”

***

The hearth. Aye. ’Twas exactly where she wanted to go.

Magdalen fixed her gaze on the chair a short distance away. She must stay focused, even though she’d seen anger and dismay harden Cyn’s eyes a moment ago. She longed to know why. He wasn’t upset with her; she sensed that with certainty. Yet, somehow, being in each other’s arms had stirred up difficult emotions for him.

This torment was different than what he battled in his nightmares. She could only guess that someone—a woman?—had hurt him very badly in his past.

She respected that Cyn was a proud warrior who valued his privacy, but she wished he would let her in just a little. She was a good listener. If he could trust her enough to confide in her, mayhap she could help resolve whatever haunted him by day and by night. She’d certainly be willing to try.

“Are you ready to take a step?” Cyn asked.

She tightened her right arm around his waist, while holding the blanket closed with her left hand. “Aye.”

She hobbled a short distance forward, relieved to be able to lean against him. He was deliciously warm, and the way he smelled…like crisp forest air and rich loam, blended with herbs and mingled with wood smoke and soap. An intriguing, thoroughly masculine scent.