Page 35 of Lord of the Forest

Her eyes twinkled. “It matters not to me, but should anyone else come in—”

“Then why do you wear so much?” He waved a hand to indicate her double layer of head coverings, her kerchief-covered shift, her open-fronted gown and bodice, and Lord knew whatever else lay beneath to accentuate her hips and protect her modesty.

Wouldn’t it be a pleasure to find out! To remove the layers one at a time, undoing the lacing of her bodice, untying the garters at her knees and running his hands over her ankles’ soft skin.

“Lancelot. You’re not paying attention.” She sounded like the master who’d taught him and Paris Latin, admonishing them for some misdemeanor. He’d been losing himself in delicious imaginings. Somewhere in the turmoil that thundered through his brain, he knew he’d been celibate for an extremely long time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been married, though I think I’ve had lovers. I just remembered studying Latin alongside my brother. He was called Paris, was he not?”

Pink roses bloomed in her cheeks as she tilted her head to one side and regarded him. “Your thoughts scurry about like mice in a hayloft. I tell you that you’ve been poisoned, and you speak of marriage and Latin lessons. How can I ever make sense of you?”

He couldn’t help it. His feelings seemed to be more important to him than his thoughts right now, his instincts more to be trusted than words or memories. “Nay, not poisoned. Bad meat, as I said. I ate but little of it, I know, as my senses of taste and smell are acute. Why is it so dark in here?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because it’s nighttime, of course.” She raised the candle that flickered beside her. “I’ve been watching over you this past hour and a half. Everyone else is abed.”

“Then I should be grateful, should I not? But I don’t need watching over—I’m well used to fending for myself.”

Her expression softened. “Back in the forest mayhap—you were beginning to think more like an animal and less like a man. But here, in this world, you are but a child, still finding your way through the confusing maze of human existence… and human treachery.”

His stomach clenched, and he belched to relieve the pressure, much to her amusement.

“Not the politest thing to do in the presence of a lady.”

“If I have truly been poisoned, then you’ll have to overlook it. I couldn’t help myself.”

She smiled briefly, then reached for a horn beaker and offered it to him. “Fennel seed tisane, now cold. Swill it around your mouth, gargle with it if you wish—it should cleanse any foul taste that remains.”

He took the cup, tasted the tisane, and found it palatable. It definitely improved the taste on his tongue. She watched him, a smile playing about the corners of her mouth.

“What amuses you?” Had he just broken some other nonsensical, pointless rule of etiquette?

“The fact that you trust me. When an attempt has been made on your life by an unknown poisoner, you still accept a drink from me without hesitation.”

He grinned. “It is because I follow my instincts. They bid me to trust you.”

She regarded him solemnly. There was a queer, lost expression on her face he didn’t understand.

“You still trust me?” she queried. “Even though I wrenched you from your forest lair, almost caused you to be thrown into a cell, forced you to rediscover your true identity when you wished to remain anonymous, then put you at risk of poisoners, and imposters wanting to marry you?”

She had a point. There was really only one reason he’d put up with it all, wasn’t there? And that reason was now sitting by his bedside, regarding him with an intensity that squeezed at his heart.

“If I was, indeed, poisoned—then I owe you my life.”

But who would want to poison him? Nobody even knew of his existence—or rather, his continued existence, since he’d been deemed either dead or in self-imposed exile as a murderer.

“That evens the score between us.” She retrieved the cup from him and set it down. “And now you’re awake, and there’s none to stop us, what say you we go to Emborough Hall so you can have a good look around and see if any further memories return? There were too many people before, too much distraction. Now that you need no longer doubt who you are, shall we not go back and see what more can be discovered? If we go under cover of darkness, no one will know we’re there, and we can take as long as we like. I’ve borrowed the key—without asking, of course. Sir Kester Bayliss is far too trusting of women.” She brandished the key at him.

He could think of far more pleasurable things to do under cover of darkness. In full daylight, too, in fact. Preferably out in the open, with a light summer breeze playing over their naked flesh, she with her arms raised above her head, saluting the sun, exposing her breasts and taut nipples to his admiring gaze. He would be naked, too, his male member aroused and ready, eager to find sanctuary in her body and drive them both to an ecstasy few people ever experienced.

“Lancelot?”

“Aye?” His voice was hoarse.

“You were miles away again. What say you to a midnight visit to your old home to see what we may find?”

“Of course, my Lady Clemence. I’m your devoted slave, and shall do whatever you require.” He hoped she’d require a good deal of him, but that was evidently not what she wanted right now.

It was hard to know what to do or say to please a lady when one had not done so in many a long year. He could only hope she’d accept him for what he was, as he had no pretty tricks, and no flattering speeches guaranteed to please her.