Page 25
“You always have a choice.”
With that, she pushed against him, ripped open the door, and left.
A good thing, because Court had nearly made the biggest mistake of his life.
7
He had nearly taken her virginity.
Four days later, Court climbed the stairs that led to Camburg’s round hall. Named by the lord who’d once ruled here, a man with no heirs who’d allowed the castle to revert back to the crown, the round hall was nothing more than a circular chamber atop the east tower. The four windows gave him the best—and most well-lit—view in the castle. Staring out of one shuttered window, Court could see as far away as the small village they’d skirted on their way back from Scotland. Beyond that and slightly to the north, he could see the land that would become his once Moordon was captured.
He would continue to hold Camburg for Kenshire, but he could finally begin a life of his own rather than one loaned to him. One that did not include a blasted stone and a redheaded woman who tormented his thoughts every moment—waking and sleeping. Or her prickly guards who had arrived two days earlier, along with the men he’d sent to find them.
Court pushed his surcoat aside and reached down into the pouch he carried at all times. Pulling on the gold chain, he lifted the emerald stone and laid it out on his hand. This simple stone was responsible for all that had transpired since he awoke with the mark. Without it, he never would have met Marion.
Turning it over in his hand, Court felt nothing out of the ordinary. And after speaking to the elders of Camburg over the past few days, he was no closer to learning more about his own role in Marion’s legend.
Sounds filtered to him. Court tightened his grip, hiding the stone from view as the door creaked open.
“Marion.”
The sight of her took his breath away, affecting him as potently as if he’d not avoided her for days. The green overtunic above her cream-colored kirtle matched her eyes.
“’Tis a wonder you remember my name.” She closed the door behind her, looking around the room. Using the candle she’d brought with her, she proceeded to light each of the three wall torches.
“I hadn’t noticed the dark before. ’Tis usually quite light in here.”
She placed the candle on the small table beside them.
The nearness of her was almost unbearable. This was why he’d been taking meals in his solar. Why he’d been meeting and training, leaving Marion to explore. Why he’d been unable to sleep. Unable to think straight. Unable to do much of anything except wonder what it would be like to give in to temptation. To toss Marion onto his bed and spend an entire night pleasuring her.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
There was no use denying it.
“We need to talk, Court.”
For one wild moment, he envisioned himself laying waste to the contents of the table before them, clearing it to make way for Marion’s luscious body.
“Court?”
He had to get out of here.
“I can’t—” He tried to move past her, but this time it was she who stopped him.
“Please.”
Her hand branded him, the linen shirt not enough of a barrier against the heat of her touch.
“I need to know how long we’ll be here,” she pressed. “How long until—”
“One more week.” He could no longer deny her. Not when she stood so close, not when she was touching him. He turned as her hand fell. “One more week and I will be gone. Afterward, the stone is—”
“Gone where?”
“Marion, please.” It was his turn to beg.
“I know about Halbury Castle.”