By Honor Bound Part 38

"There is much to do in preparation. It is certain there will be more fighting on the southern road."

"Oh," she said, trying to look and sound disappointed. "I thought you might ride with me, or at least take a walk. I long to go outside these walls, but Fionna says it isn't safe for a woman alone."

"She's right. I don't have time to ride, but we can walk a little now, if you like."

"Yes, thank you. I have been inside this castle for more than a month, and it feels like a prison to me. How I long for Laggan," she added, casting a I.

sidelong glance to see how Patric was taking this newly friendly approach of hers.

"You will be at Laggan soon enough, my sweet," he said. The guards at the gate saluted Patric as he and Elen walked through. A short distance from the castle was an orchard. They made their way toward it. The scent of ripe apples hung heavy on the crisp autumn air. The hills to the west were purple, the sky above them a deep blue. Between the castle and the orchard, the earth was bare, with many freshly made mounds. Malcolm's army had not camped in this small area.

"How desolate the land looks," Elen said.

"It's better than it was before," Patric replied. "The dead are buried, and the discarded equipment has been collected. It hardly looks like a battlefield now, and the gra.s.s will grow again when spring comes."

"Malcolm's battlefield," Elen muttered. "He leaves destruction wherever he goes."

"Will you never forgive the poor man?"

"Forgive? It's because of Malcolm that you betrayed me. You left me for him."

"I had to keep my promise to Duncan. You know that." "You were a traitor to me," Elen insisted, her night-dark eyes blazing with anger too long submerged. "I loved you then. I would gladly have gone into exile with you, but you never asked me. You just left a message with Fionna, releasing me from our betrothal. How do you think I felt when I heard that? Can you wonder that my love turned to hatred?"

So that was at the heart of her antipathy to him. She thought he had been careless of her love for him. Overcome with sorrow for those lost years, Patric would have embraced her, but she stepped aside, putting a gnarled old apple tree between them. He faced her over a low-hanging branch.

"I could not ask you to go with me," he said. "It was too dangerous. I knew that once I left Alba, I would be an outlaw with no home, no place to lay my head but by someone else's charity. You were so fragile, so shy and gentle. How could I ask you to share such hardship, possibly even a cruel traitor's death if we were caught?"

"You were mistaken in my character. I am not so fragile. I have survived my own dangers and hardships. "

"I have recently begun to realize just how strong you are." Patric rubbed at a sore spot on his jaw, where she had hit him the previous night. Then he grew serious again. "That was a long time ago, and I had good reason for what I did. Let me point out to you that had you gone into exile with me, like me you would have been proclaimed traitor and outlaw, and Macbeth himself would have confiscated all of your property and given it to someone else, as he did with mine. You still have Laggan. Malcolm returned your home to you. Can you not forgive him, and me, too, and let us forget the past?"

"I will think about it," she whispered. She changed the subject abruptly. "May I go riding while you are gone?"

"I told you, it's not safe. You have enough to keep you occupied, helping Fionna with the packing."

"I would take Drust and two or three of his men with me, and Ava for chaperone. We could go in the early morning, before Fionna needs me. Please, Patric. It would be so wonderful to get out of that stuffy castle, just for a little while."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"And if I ride every day until you come back, I'll be used to riding again, and I won't slow you down on our trip to Laggan."

"You would do it for my good, would you? What a sorceress you are. I think you could cajole me into anything you want."

He stopped to kiss her, and she did not object. She leaned against the roughness of the tree trunk and opened her mouth to him. As his hands wandered upon her, she let him think she wanted him, while she told herself over and over again that she did not enjoy it, she was only doing this so he would be agreeable and let her go riding tomorrow, so she could escape him and join Lulach.

"Let us end our walk here and return to the castle," he whispered. "I want to make love to you, and I prefer to do it in the comfort of our bedchamber."

His arm was about her waist, urging her along. She dared not hang back or delay. She did not want to anger him. He hurried her back to the castle, through the gate and the great hall, then up the stone staircase and into the room they now shared. He bolted the door securely behind them. "I have wanted to love you in mid-afternoon," he said. "Candles are not enough. I want to see your beautiful body in daylight."

His kiss was deep and sweet, drugging her like heady mead. She was afraid of the light, for in it she might reveal too much to him, but she knew she could not stop him.

He lifted her gown over her head, then bent and quickly unfastened the ribbons at her knees, pulling off both stockings and shoes with one gesture, leaving her wearing only a linen undershift that clearly revealed the rich contours of her figure.

His hands sought her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She nearly swooned with pleasure when he pulled her shift down off one shoulder and set his mouth on one round globe. His hand pushed at her other shoulder, and her shift dropped to the floor. By the time he finally lifted his head, her arms were around his waist and she was clinging to him breathlessly.

"Your tunic scratches," she said as soon as she could speak. From shoulder to waist her skin was red from rubbing against the rough wool, and the heavy buckle of his belt had made an indentation on her stomach.

"You had better remove it," he said, watching her with narrowed eyes, as though he did not quite trust this newly compliant Elen.

"I?".

"Yes, you. Undress me, Elen."

She wanted to tell him to undress himself. She reminded herself she had to keep him in a good mood so he would not forbid her to go riding the next day. She bit back her irritation. Reluctantly, she began working at his buckle. It came unfastened at last. His arms were still around her, his hands resting lightly on her waist.

"Let me go," she said, "and I'll put it on the chest.""Drop it."The heavy leather slipped out of her fingers and thudded on the floor."Your neck chain," she said, lifting the thick gold links of Malcolm's gift.

"Leave it on. My tunic next, please.""How can I take it off if you won't let go of me?""One arm at a time," he chuckled.She pulled the hip-length garment up to his armpits. With great solemnity, he gave her first one arm and then the other so she could pull off the sleeves, then ducked his head to allow her to remove it entirely. At no time did he let her out of his grasp. She dropped the tunic onto the floor on top of his belt.

She kept her eyes away from his wide, heavily muscled chest, pretending to herself that she did not want to lay her head upon the mat of soft hair that covered it. She concentrated instead on his boots.

He wore long, tight woolen trousers in the Norse style, and soft leather boots wrapped with strips of leather to hold them to his calves. He stood quietly while she unfastened the wrapping and drew off the boots.

It was time to remove his trousers. She fumbled with the drawstring at his waist, trying to ignore the obvious bulge just below her hands. She could not unfasten the knotted cord.

"Shall I help?" he asked, laughter in his voice.

"I can do it," she snarled, momentarily forgetting she was trying to please him.

"Whatever you wish, my love, but don't take too long. I'm growing ever more eager for you."

With a muttered oath, she gave another tug and the knot untied. She pushed the trousers down his long legs. She could not help herself, her hands caressed him as they slid along, feeling the tight muscles, the strength of him. She knelt to pull off the trousers, and then she looked up at him.

He stood naked before her, his erect manhood thrusting proudly outward, awaiting her next move. He presented an irresistible temptation. Still kneeling, she touched him, feeling the velvety softness, and then the hard, throbbing length of him, and the softer part that lay beyond. She gathered all of him into her hands and nuzzled

gently at his flesh. He smelled of cinnamon. She pressed her mouth against him, her tongue flicking over his now hugely distended manhood.

With a loud cry, he caught at her shoulders, pulling her up, clasping her tightly to him while he rained kisses over her face. Still holding her, he backed toward the bed. It was only a short distance. He fell across the fur coverlet, pulling Elen down on top of him. She lay there, her head tucked under his chin, feeling the hardness of his body beneath hers, while his hands moved along her spine to fondle her softly rounded hips.

She forgot she hated him and was trying to trick him. She was filled with tenderness and an intense awareness of her own insistent need. She pushed herself to a crouching position atop him, her feelings showing plainly on her face.

"You, too, my love?" He laughed up at her. He took her by the hips, lifting her and then impaling her upon himself. She cried out, startled at the sudden action, her eyes wide.

"Like this, Elen." He moved within her, eliciting another cry. She began to ride him, feeling her pa.s.sion surging out of control, while he played with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s relentlessly until she fell upon his chest, heaving and sobbing in her fulfillment.

He gave her only a brief respite before he clutched at her hips and rolled over, pinning her under his great weight, their bodies still locked together. And now he took his pleasure, surging into her with endless need, reawakening her desire and carrying her with him to eve I higher peaks of ecstasy, over and over again until she was suffused by a rapture so intense it was painful, and she could neither think nor speak, but only feel, and there was nothing else in the world for her but Patric and her need for him, and the pleasure they gave each other.

She came back to herself only slowly. She lay crushed underneath him, scarcely able to breathe. She could feel the beat of his heart, the warmth of his breath against the curve of her throat, and she tried to press herself against him even more closely than she already was.

He stirred. He did not move from atop her body, he simply raised himself a little, as though he could not bear to separate himself from her. His mouth found hers. It was a tender kiss, deeply satisfying.

"Elen," he whispered, "I love you so."

"Don't." She began to struggle against him, suddenly angry with herself for her weakness. "Don't make me say it. I can't. I mustn't love you. Please, please."

But when he made love to her again a little while later, she did say it, over and over again. She told herself it was to lull any suspicions he might have.

He fell asleep at last, and she lay under his arm, knowing herself for a traitorous, heartless creature. She could not look at him, even in sleep.

She would leave on the morrow, betraying him as he had once betrayed her. She had to leave him. There was nothing else she could do. She, too, had her loyalties, and they were with Lulach.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly, so as not to waken him. "Oh, Patric, I am so sorry."

28.

September 10 to Christmas 1057. Moray and Laggan.

It was barely light when Patric rose and began dressing to go with Malcolm. In the glow of the candles

Resad had lit, Elen knelt on the bed and watched her husband buckle on his sword."It will be a clear day," she said, glancing out the window at a pink and gold sky."Good. That will make travel easier.""Yes, it will," she replied, thinking of a journey other than the one Patric had on his mind.Patric picked up his blue cloak and swung it about his shoulders."Go back to sleep if you want, my love. I've given you precious little rest these last two nights.""I'd rather go riding. Please say yes, Patric. Drust will take good care of me."Patric's mind was on the day's journey, and the battle that lay ahead of him at its end."Whatever you like, my dear. Just be careful." He strode to the bed and caught her face between his hands. His lips lingered on hers, relishing her eager response. "Say you'll miss me, Elen."

"I will try."

"I think that's an improvement." He kissed

388her again, laughing, then started for the door. "I'll have Resad tell Drust to saddle a horse for you.""Don't bother. Resad has too much to do, since he's riding with you. When Ava brings my hot water, I'l

send her. She likes an excuse to see Drust."

"That will be easier, I suppose. Good-bye, my love."

With a wave of his hand, Patric was gone, and Elen breathed a sigh of relief. She had not wanted to

chance Resad's noticing anything odd about Drust's too-elaborate preparations for an hour of riding.

Patric flung the door open again, startling her in the midst of her guilty thoughts, but it was only to let Ava

enter with a steaming pitcher of hot water.

"Here she is. Enjoy your ride, my darling."

"Is he really gone?" Elen asked.

"I think so, mistress. He only stopped to help me. King Malcolm was shouting for him when I pa.s.sed

through the hall.""Malcolm is too impatient. Thank heaven I won't have to see Malcolm, or Patric, again.""Are you sure you want to leave?" Ava inquired. "You seemed awfully fond of him yesterday. I thought you might have changed your mind.""I was pretending, Ava, so he wouldn't be angry and refuse to let me go riding.""I just wondered. He is so strong and handsome, and they say he is a mighty warrior. Is he a mighty lover, too?"