Page 93 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“I come of my own accord. I have a proposal that will benefit us both, milord.”

“Return to the cur,” he snarled. “I will not barter.”

“I suggest you reconsider.” She smiled, an angry curl of her lips. “What I intend to tell you concerns your daughter.”

Elizabeth awoke to soft linen sheets against her skin, a thick feather mattress cradling her body, and sunlight warming her bare shoulders. She stretched her arms out wide. The bed was at least three times as large as that rickety rope thing in her chamber.

She inhaled, and smelled Geoffrey’s scent on the sheets… and remembered.

With a groan, she slumped back onto the pillow. Opening one eye, she dared to peek over the side of the bed. Her clothes were gone. Glancing toward the hearth, she saw her chemise and bliaut draped—by Geoffrey’s hand, she imagined—over the back of one of the chairs.

Memories of her night with him flooded her mind, and her fingers knotted into the bedding. Guilt poked at her like an accusing finger, and, with a firm shake of her head, she forced the remorse aside. She had vowed no regrets, and she would have none. Heat tingled across her skin, still tender from his lovemaking. Why should she feel shame, when their intimacy had been necessary, enlightening, and… wonderful?

Elizabeth drew the bedding aside, stepped down to the floor, and padded over to the chair. She pulled on the chemise warmed by the fire and exhaled a long sigh.

Geoffrey was a magnificent lover, his kisses and caresses as sweet as clover honey. Yet, she must not succumb to romantic notions of him falling in love with her. They had shared pleasure, sated their physical desire, but in his heart, he did not care for her. He did not love her. Because of his soul-deep hatred of her father, he never would.

She and Geoffrey remained enemies.

But what bliss she had experienced with him.

Indulging in a smile, she ran her fingers through her hair and remembered the boyish grin on Geoffrey’s face as he toyed with her ringlets. He had enjoyed learning the secrets of her body, as she had his. After coupling for the second time, he had found comfort in her embrace, for he had fallen asleep with his arms around her.

Odd, how a trust had formed between them by one physical act. An act that had changed her forever—heart, mind, and… body.

Elizabeth twisted around to fasten the chemise. The ties slipped through her fingers, and she muttered under her breath. Geoffrey had left her no means to put her clothes back on.

A delicious shiver wove through her. Had he intended to keep her in his solar, awaiting his return for more sensual play?

The fire sparked, releasing the tang of burning pitch, and Elizabeth heard a faint knock. Mayhap Geoffrey had not intended for her to stay in his chamber. He might have sent the guards to fetch her for another day of toil. As the door opened, she clutched at the gaping chemise, but relaxed when Elena slipped inside with a pitcher and wooden board of food.

A blush stung Elizabeth’s face. The rumpled bed and her state of undress would tell all that had transpired last evening between her and Geoffrey. Yet, the maid did not even look at the bed, but walked straight to the table and set down the fare.

“Good morning, milady,” Elena said with her usual timid reserve. “Lord de Lanceau sent me to help you dress.” She scooped up the rose wool and shook out the wrinkles.

“Thank you.” Warmth blossomed inside Elizabeth, and she could not resist the ridiculous urge to grin. How kind of Geoffrey, to remember her needs.

With deft fingers, the maid tied the chemise and then helped Elizabeth don the bliaut.

While Elizabeth perched on the edge of a chair, munching day-old bread, Elena tidied her tresses into a loose braid. “You fare well today, milady?”

“Mmm? Ah, aye. Of course.”

“Milord did not punish you too much after what you did to the ale?”

“Nay.” Elizabeth fought another blush. What she had been given by Geoffrey could not be called punishment.

“I am glad.” Elena exhaled a shaky sigh. “’Twas frightening to see him in such a rage.”

“Dominic is recovered now?” Elizabeth asked.

“Aye.” Releasing Elizabeth’s braided hair, the maid strolled to the bed and smoothed the mussed linens. “Dominic went with Lord de Lanceau to tour the estate today. Dominic refused to lie abed one more day, though milord wished it.”

Elizabeth chewed her last bit of bread. “What of Mildred?”

“She is weeding the garden. Milord wishes you to work on the saddle trapping.”

Elizabeth nodded. She was glad of a day’s respite from the gardening and, as she well knew, he could have given her a far more onerous task than the embroidery.