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“Aye, perhaps. His disfigurement comes from being badly burned. The scars are old. I have heard they cover most of his body. ’Tis a miracle he survived.”
“A miracle indeed. And you do not have another name for him?”
“Nay, only Jean-Paul.” Rhona twisted a ring restlessly upon her little finger. “He…he is not a man with whom to have a pleasant conversation. I have never felt entirely comfortable with him. There is something in his eyes…eye. As if he is secret
ly laughing at me. Even when he is being sympathetic, he is laughing. And the laughter is not kind, Reynard.”
The words spilled from her; she could not stop them. It was as if all her reticence, all the walls she had built to keep herself safe, had come falling down.
Reynard covered her hands with his, squeezing gently. He could feel her bones through the flesh, so fragile. She was a small woman, and could be so easily hurt. He did not want her to return to Hilldown Castle, to her father and Jean-Paul, but he knew he had no choice but to allow it.
Allow it? He smiled to himself. As if she would let him boss her about! Lady Rhona was very much her own woman, used to taking command. Could he persuade her to change sides? It was one thing to show signs of regret, but it was a big step from that to betraying her father and throwing in her lot with Lord Henry. Reynard did not believe that Baldessare would set her and Alfric free—they were his, and he was too greedy of his possessions to ever let them go.
Voices again, this time his aunt, scolding one of the lads who fetched wood for her. Reynard glanced at Rhona and gave her a reassuring grin. “It is only the innkeeper, Matilda. Do not fear, she will not betray you.”
Rhona gave him a suspicious, sideways look. “You seem to know her well, Reynard.”
He hesitated. “She is my father’s sister,” he said.
She appeared startled. “Oh.”
“She wasn’t always as you see her now. Once she wore fine clothes, like you, and rings upon her fingers. She was a merchant’s wife in Bruges and very proud. But he lost his fortune and died in debt, and left her to grow old in poverty.”
Rhona looked away, as if she didn’t want him to read her thoughts. “That must have been difficult for her.”
“Aye. I have helped her when I can. I am only sorry I cannot do more.”
Now she did look, and there was a wondering expression in her eyes. “So you help her? You haven’t abandoned her because she is poor and of no use to you?”
Reynard felt pain, an aching jolt in his chest, that she should think such a thing, that her life with Baldessare had led her to believe such actions were the norm. “Nay, lady, I would not abandon her,” he said gently.
She gazed at him a moment longer, as though trying to read his thoughts, and then she nodded her head. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, and gave a sigh. It was a deep sigh, a sigh of longing, and suddenly Reynard knew he wasn’t making an error of judgment in trusting this girl. His instincts were correct. She was worth saving.
He reached over and covered her hands with his. She started, but did not remove them.
“I want to help you to be free,” he said quietly and reached up to caress her cheek, her throat, exploring her soft, vulnerable flesh. She was so beautiful. He knew he would never tire of touching her, of looking at her.
Her lashes fluttered down, dark against her pale cheeks. “Do you, Reynard?”
“You have suffered, Rhona, but that can change. I can spring the trap you are in.”
“If only you—”
“Will you travel with me to faraway lands, lady? Will we see all the world has to show us, you and me?”
She looked up then, her eyes ablaze. “Oh yes. Yes, please.”
His lips brushed hers, teasing, testing. Then deeper, drawing her against him, until she softened, molding her curves to the hard planes of his body. Her arms tangled about his neck and she hung on, her tongue dueling with his, her mouth hot and wild and willing.
Reynard was sure he had found paradise.
And then she pulled away.
Her breasts beneath the yellow gown were rising and falling, almost as wildly as his own heart was beating. She put a palm flat against his chest, as though to hold him back, but he wasn’t moving.
“You must know…you should know that what you said about me was true. My maidenhead was given as an inducement to a man who had land my father wanted. And there were other times, times when I had to…when I…”
“I don’t care.”
