Chapter
10
I grazed my fingers over the mounds of jewels and silver coins. The chest was filled to the brim with countless items—tasseled pillows, silk blankets, embroidered tapestries, parchment manuscripts, and even a number of paintings.
How had Sir Aldric gained such wealth? Was this his payment? His share of the profits from ransacking Lord Pitt’s enemies?
I dug my fingers through the jewels but stilled at the sight of a circular gold brooch studded with emeralds. My mother’s brooch, the one I’d knelt to retrieve from my jewelry chest before we’d been captured. In my haste to defend Cecil from Sir Aldric and his men, I’d neglected to hide the key again.
My stomach roiled at the foolishness of my mistake. But the bitter acid rapidly changed to anger. Although Aldric and his men had every right to take my jewelry as the spoils of war, my indignation swelled anyway.
At the slight whisper of a sound, I glanced toward the door. I didn’t know how long I had before anyone suspected I hadn’t gone to the great hall with the other women. And I didn’t know if Sir Aldric would be returning to his room before the feast.
Before entering his chambers, I’d waited a short distance away in a small alcove until I’d heard the men leave. I’d chanced a glance at their retreating forms and had waited several minutes to make sure everyone was gone before braving entry into Sir Aldric’s chambers.
After searching almost every other room in the castle during the past two weeks, I’d yet to look into his. I hadn’t investigated Lord Pitt’s private chambers either. And time was running out. The month was half over, and I hadn’t seen the Holy Chalice anywhere.
What if Father had been wrong about Lord Pitt having the sacred relic?
I returned my attention to the chest in front of me. I wouldn’t know if he’d been wrong until I completed my exploration, which meant taking advantage of the few minutes I had to scour Sir Aldric’s chambers.
I grabbed the brooch and shoved it through the layers of my skirt to my pocket when a voice from behind stopped me.
“My lady,” said a calm but calculated voice. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Sir Aldric?
My pulse startled, tripping and tumbling within my chest. When I’d peeked into his chambers, I’d been careful to scan the entirety before entering. Had he been hiding somewhere?
With heated resolve, I spun to face him. On the opposite side of his bed, he reclined in a large wooden tub. When I’d glanced at the tub before, I’d assumed it was empty.
However, from the way his wet hair was plastered to his face and neck along with the water droplets on his bare shoulders, I guessed he’d been there all along, likely submerged.
“I did not realize you were here, sir.” I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Clearly.” He reclined casually. His bronzed arms were stretched in relaxed fashion over the back of the tub revealing not only his bare shoulders but also the upper half of his chest.
His very bare chest.
I was paralyzed and could only stare at his glistening flesh, the sculpted muscles that rippled with restrained power. I’d never seen a man in a state of undress, not even in the least form. Though I should have been scandalized, I was more fascinated than afraid.
“I’m always relieved to discover I’m pleasant to look upon.” He combed his fingers through his wet hair, causing his bicep to bulge.
I swallowed hard, knowing I should look away, but unable to tear my gaze from him.
“Even though you’re enjoying the show, I cannot indulge you any longer.” He unfolded a nearby towel and started to rise.
I gasped and spun around so rapidly I tangled in my skirt, tripped, and fell against the open chest. Heat spilled into my face and mortification seeped into every pore. I wanted nothing more than to run from the room and hide in embarrassment.
But at the sloshing of water followed by the slap of feet against the floor, I gasped again, gripped the edge of the chest, and closed my eyes tightly. Although he was well behind me and I couldn’t see anything now, just the knowledge that he was clad only in a towel made me want to slink through the cracks into the floorboards.
As he padded away from the tub, I held myself motionless, hardly daring to breathe. The rub of wool against flesh told me he was drying himself. A second later, the rasp of linen over damp skin was the sign he was dressing himself.
I waited, praying he would hurry.
“So, my lady.” He finally broke the silence. The clank of metal indicated he was donning his weapon belt. “If you aren’t in my chamber to watch me finish my bath, then why are you here?”
There was something hard in his tone, something that warned me I needed to leave now. But I was still too afraid to move, afraid if I turned I’d find him only half-dressed.
“I made a mistake. I should not have come in.” I took a deep breath, desperately trying to find a plausible excuse for why I was in his chambers breaking into his locked chest.
His bare feet plodded across the rushes toward me.
I tensed. I’d gotten myself into deep trouble, and this time I knew no way out.
He halted behind me. At the heat of his presence, my mind flashed with the image of his sculpted shoulders and chest.
I’d thought him winsome when I’d watched him fight in the tournament. He’d been daring and skilled and ruggedly appealing. I’d understood the amorous way the other women had gawked at him and why he’d caught their fancy. Not only was he a champion fighter, but he was entirely too handsome for anyone’s good.
With the wealth and power Lord Pitt bestowed upon him, he was a prize catch for many of the maidens still waiting for matches, although certainly not appropriate for a woman of my status.
He stood unmoving behind me, close enough I could hear his breathing and feel its warmth at the back of my neck.
I waited for him to speak or spin me around and demand to know what I was doing there. But he waited too.
The tension mounted. It was strangely charged, the air fairly crackling with something I couldn’t name. It reminded me of the time we’d been alone in the chapel.
When his fingers grazed my hip, I didn’t resist the touch. In fact, I found that I basked in the feel of him. His hand spread, his fingers splaying in that almost possessive hold he’d used when I’d ridden with him.
I was tempted to take a step backward and let him fold me against his chest. I could picture myself leaning my head against his shoulder and him pressing his nose into my hair.
His hand slipped lower. Before I knew what he was doing, his fingers darted through the slit in my skirt into my pocket. He jerked his hand loose and stepped away.
My pocket felt suddenly lighter and I knew why. He’d pilfered my mother’s brooch.
I pivoted and lunged after his hand, intending to take back what belonged to me. But he dangled the brooch above our heads out of my reach.
“I see that you’re not only skilled at swordplay but at thievery as well.” His eyes glinted like the sharp tip of a dagger.
I groped after the brooch again, angry at him for manipulating me so that he could take it back and angry at myself for nurturing any sort of attraction to him. Why did I so easily fall into the role of a simpering spineless maiden whenever he drew nigh?
He held the brooch higher, so much so that I wouldn’t be able to grasp it unless I climbed up his torso. Although he wore only his first layer of clothing, at least it was something, and I could shed my mortification from before.
“Give it back to me,” I demanded.
“I have every right to cut off your hand for stealing from me.” Before I could react, his knife was out and the blade pressed against my sleeve.
I ceased my struggling. I was in a precarious situation, and I’d clearly lost the tenuous trust and respect I’d gained with him. Although he was a fierce man, he wasn’t a brute, and I knew he wouldn’t cut off my hand. But he would sever the bond that had grown between us and cut me out of his life, and I didn’t want that to happen, though I could not say why.
“I did not steal from you,” I stated firmly.
“I witnessed you breaking into my chest and taking this brooch.” His voice was hard and the knife against my wrist unyielding.
“I cannot steal something that already belongs to me.” I met his gaze with a fierce one of my own. “In fact, if anyone deserves to have his hand cut off for thieving, it should be you.”
His expression was unreadable, and his eyes still glinted with steel.
“You stole my mother’s brooch, my most prized jewel,” I said.
The pressure of the knife lessened.
“My mother said it was her favorite jewel because the emeralds were as beautiful as my eyes.”
He dropped the knife but continued to hold the brooch as well as my gaze.
Suddenly I was conscious again of his nearness and the heat that crackled between us, and my stomach twirled a wild dance step.
What was it about this man that turned my mind into a bowl of mush? I ought to plan my next move or at least find an excuse with which to free myself from this predicament. But all I could think about was how deep and dark and beautiful his eyes were.
“My lady,” he whispered, his voice thick.
“Yes?” I whispered in return, surprised by the eagerness in my tone.
“I am no fool. You may have located this brooch. But it isn’t what you came here for or what you have been seeking these past days.”
His astuteness, as usual, startled me, but I forced myself to remain just as calm as he appeared to be. If he could stay unmoved by my close proximity, then I had to learn to do the same with him. How was it that he could affect me so thoroughly, but my presence had no sway over him?
I shifted my attention to the shirt clinging to his chest. I boldly tugged at the linen, so that it pulled loose. Then I straightened the fabric at the shoulder as if such an intimate gesture was normal between us.
Finally, I took a step back, still saying nothing, for I could speak no words in my defense. When he didn’t detain me, I moved several more steps toward the door. I wanted to make my getaway before he could say or do anything else that would reveal how much power he had over me.
I only managed another step when his hand circled my arm and stopped me. The touch wasn’t forceful or angry as it had been before. And when I met his gaze again, I was relieved to see the sharp glint was gone.
He pressed something hard into my palm. “Your mother was wrong. The emeralds are not nearly as beautiful as your eyes.”
As he released me and I continued across the room, I realized what he’d given me: my mother’s brooch along with another reason to like him more than I should.