Page 71 of An Outlaw’s Desire

Grumbling, she pressed against him, the fabric of his cloak rough against her cheek. “I do not want to wait. Why can you not tell me?” A sudden lump lodged in her throat. “Does it have to do with us?”

“Blythe.”

What if his duties for Lord Montgomery were destined to keep them apart? His fealty to his lordship, his avowed duty to protect the riches, would come above all else. Dismay gripped her like cold fingers closing around her soul.

Pitt drew her back to arm’s length. “Blythe,” he said again.

A sob lodged in her throat. “Promise me we will never be parted again. I could not bear that.”

He cupped her face with his hand. “Believe me, I do not want us separated again either.”

A reassuring answer, but not a promise.

“Pitt?” she whispered.

His mouth came down on hers again. With his lips, he coaxed, teased, invited her to accept the pleasure he offered.

Part of her fought to win his promise. Another part of her understood that for now, he was offering her all that he could.

“I want you, Blythe,” he rasped against her mouth.

“I want you.” Now. Forever.

Ignoring the ache in her heart, she clasped his hand and led him to her chamber. As soon as the door closed, he swept her into his arms and took her to the bed. His fingers slid underneath her gown, and the pleasure of his kisses and caresses overruled her troubling thoughts.

Tonight, she would love him completely—even if tomorrow, she must let him go.

Chapter Eighteen

Christmas Eve

“I did not manage to get the secret from Ash last night,” Rosetta said.

Arm in arm, Blythe walked with her friend across the bailey, while Clarine and Fenton, holding bags of breadcrumbs, scampered on ahead toward the garden.

“There seem to be a lot of secrets at the moment.” Clarine had been most secretive that morning, running back to her room right after breaking her fast and then later fetching Rosetta to help her with some unexplained task. Pitt, also, had disappeared, apparently on an errand that involved Ash, Justin, and Lord and Lady Montgomery.

Rosetta squeezed Blythe’s arm. “I expect we will all know soon enough.”

Delicious scents drifted from the kitchens as the household readied for Christmas Day. Lord Montgomery had ordered that later in the afternoon, the Yule log would be brought into the great hall and lit in the enormous hearth, to be followed by a feast, dancing, and much revelry.

As Blythe stepped through the garden gate after Rosetta, her thoughts shifted to the night before, to lying in bed with her cheek pressed to Pitt’s warm chest. She’d tried again to get him to tell her what he’d refused to confide in her on the battlements, but he’d just stroked her bare arm and refused to give a direct answer and soon afterward—the rogue!—had fallen asleep. She hadn’t heard him leave that morning, but he’d left her a note to say he’d be back that afternoon in time for the lighting of the Yule log.

Laughter drew her gaze to Clarine and Fenton. Longing tugged at her, for mayhap one day, she’d be in this garden with her own son or daughter, a child born to her and Pitt. What joy ’twould be, to be gifted with a babe. For now, though, she would be grateful for the miracle of having Pitt in her life again.

Once the breadcrumbs were gone and Clarine and Fenton had played for a while in the garden, Blythe and Rosetta returned to the great hall. Not long after, a servant brought word that the travelers had returned.

Clarine giggled.

“Why are you suddenly so excited?” Blythe asked.

The girl shook her head. “I am not saying.”

Rosetta rose. “Blythe, would you help me choose my gown for tonight?

“Now?” She glanced at the stairwell of the forebuilding that opened into the hall, for she’d been looking forward to seeing Pitt.

“You and I will not be long.”