FERAND LEFT THE palace and roamed the streets of London for an hour, needing to stretch his legs and clear his mind. Sir Francis had been right about the foul smells. Everywhere Ferand turned, he found rubbish heaped upon waste, both human and animal. He wondered why anyone would wish to live in such surroundings as he returned to the Palace of Westminster.
Lady Rose had been kind enough to arrange a chamber for him indefinitely. She mentioned that she would see to it once they parted and where he should go as they observed the many females. But only one woman had truly caught his attention.
Elia de Wolfe.
Her beauty was undeniable but Ferand knew much lay below the surface. The fact that Lady Rose chose to introduce the two of them let him know Lady Elia’s worth. He longed to spend hours with her, finding out exactly who she was and what interested her—and even more, exploring her sweet curves and lush mouth. He’d coupled with women over the years but none had fascinated him as much as the brief time he’d spent in her company.
He wondered why she wasn’t betrothed. Did the de Wolfe name intimidate other courtiers? Even if it didn’t, he imagined her quick tongue might put a man in his place.
Returning to the palatial building which would temporarily serve as his quarters, Ferand located a servant who brought him to his assigned chamber. He lay on the bed for a few minutes, his thoughts swirling. Knowing sleep wouldn’t come for some time, he decided to wander the palace and familiarize himself with its layout. Though he passed a few people in the long series of corridors, most must have bedded down for the night.
Turning a corner, he continued down a long passageway. Just as he reached where it intersected with another hallway, a figure rounded the corner at blazing speed and crashed into him. Instinctively, Ferand grabbed on to someone’s elbows and looked down.
His gaze met the deep, green eyes of Elia de Wolfe.
“Come back!” a voice called from a distance.
Lady Elia cursed under her breath. She removed a scroll hidden inside her kirtle and slammed it against his chest.
“Take it!” she hissed.
Ferand released one of her elbows and accepted the small scroll. The seal remained affixed. On it was a head of a wolf. He assumed it was a missive to her from a family member, most likely her father.
“Hide it,” she commanded as the footsteps grew louder.
She pulled on him, leading him around the corner.
“Promise me you will not read it.”
He saw the panic welling in her face and how she fought against it.
“I won’t.” Ferand slid it inside his tunic, feeling it scratch against his chest.
“Lady Elia!” The voice came closer.
“God’s Bones,” she murmured.
Looking around, she pulled Ferand toward a nearby alcove and pushed him partially in it. He heard something fall to the ground.
“Kiss me,” she ordered. “And make it look like the kiss of your life.”
Ferand needed no further invitation.
He took both her elbows again and yanked her to him. A quick gasp escaped her lips as he wrapped his left arm around her waist, fitting her snug against him. His right hand latched on to the back of her neck and held her steady as his mouth crashed down on hers. She opened her mouth, mayhap to protest, but she’d given him a task and Ferand knew he was up to it.
His tongue swept into her mouth, past the lips that he planned to explore more leisurely at a later date. For now, he took her at her word and possessed her. The scent of violets, which he’d noticed when he kissed her hand earlier, wafted around him as her skin heated against his. Her full breasts pressed against his chest and he felt her nipples pebbling in need through her clothes. He wanted his hands on them. His mouth on them.
But he would make do with what she’d given him for now.
As he kissed her, her tongue began to war with his, matching him stroke for stroke. His arm tightened around her waist. His fingers slid from her neck, dragging to her face. He cupped her cheek as he continued to breathe her in. The kiss became deeper. More frantic. More possessive.
Then someone cleared his throat. Ferand realized they had an audience and reluctantly tore his mouth from hers. Their gazes met and he saw the dazed look in her eyes.
Turning to the man who’d interrupted them, he ground out, “What?”
He was thin, with sandy hair and a nervous air about him. He hesitated, as if unsure what to do. Two royal guardsmen stood behind him. One looked at Lady Elia with undisguised lust. The other grinned and dropped his eyes to the ground.
“What?” Ferand asked again, allowing his impatience to be evident even as he continued to hold the warm woman against him.
“Uh, I need to speak with Lady Elia,” the man said.
“Quickly then,” he said. “The lady and I have our own business at hand.”
“I can see that,” the man croaked out. He glanced to the noblewoman. “My lady. Forgive me but . . . I . . . I need to see if you might have a missive on you.”
Ferand felt her tense slightly but her face gave nothing away.
“What would I be doing with a missive, Lord Ger? Those are delivered to my bedchamber and I read them in private. I keep each one I receive in a small cask and look over them again from time to time, especially when I am missing home.” She sniffed. “Besides, ’tis none of your business what my father or brother write to me and they are the only ones who do so.”
The man she’d called Lord Ger shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just that . . . well, one of the guards thought he saw a missive tucked inside your kirtle when you left the queen’s rooms. One that he hadn’t noticed when you entered earlier. Not that you would—”
“You think I would steal from the queen? After all my years in service to her? Why, she has been as an older sister to me. Taught me much about life. I would die for my queen, Lord Ger. Can you swear the same?” she demanded haughtily.
Lady Elia pushed Ferand from her. “I cannot believe you would accuse me of behavior so vile.” She spread her arms wide and backed against the wall, looking as if she were about to be crucified upon it.
“Go ahead. Search me,” she commanded.
When he hesitated, fire shot from her eyes. “Do it!” she barked. “I will not have you sully my name with some false accusation. Go ahead. I have nothing to hide.”
Reluctantly, Lord Ger stepped up and did as she asked. Ferand watched Lady Elia raise her eyes to the ceiling, a bored look on her face. Admiration for her filled him. He didn’t know what she’d been about but she was controlling the situation magnificently.
“Enough.” Ferand stepped up. “Obviously, the lady doesn’t have any concealed missive on her. Leave her be.”
Lord Ger stepped back. Lady Elia dropped her arms to her sides as she continued to glare.
“Then why were you in the queen’s rooms?” the nobleman asked.
“For that.”
All the men looked to where she pointed. Ferand reached for the small book lying on the floor and brought it up, handing it to Lord Ger.
“Love poems?” he asked, his brow creasing.
Lady Elia snatched it from his hands. “I had left it in the queen’s rooms earlier.” She took a calming breath. “I had planned to have Lord Ferand read me one or two but . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“We found ourselves busy with other matters,” Ferand quickly supplied. He reached for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers then lifted their joined hands to his lips. Softly, he brushed a kiss against her knuckles and lowered their hands.
He added, “Hopefully, you have your answers, my lord, for I am loath to tolerate any more interruptions.” His arm slid possessively around her waist.
“Nay, my lord. My lady. Excuse us.” Lord Ger beat a quick retreat, followed by the two knights close on his heels.
Waiting until they retreated, Lady Elia turned to him, gratitude in her eyes.
“Thank you, my lord. I am sorry to have involved you in this matter.” Her teeth bit into her lower lip and all Ferand could think of was wishing he could do the same.
She released her lip and then said, “I promise you that I am not committing treason. If you noticed, the seal on the missive noted it was from my father. I know what he writes of and—”
“You don’t wish the queen to see it,” Ferand finished.
“Aye,” she said softly. She sighed and raised her chin a notch, not wishing to show defeat. “I am in your debt, my lord.”
It was exactly what Ferand wanted to hear. He smiled. “Then if you’re willing, I’d like to collect my payment. Now.”
Without giving her a chance to reply, Ferand’s hands captured her waist and drew her to him again. He backed her into the alcove, all the way this time, so that no one could see them.
He wasn’t in the mood for anymore interruptions.