ELIA’S BACK TOUCHED the wall at the same moment Lord Ferand’s lips pressed against hers. This time his kiss started gently, unlike the first one of instant heat. Yet, this second time proved just as devastating as the first as he explored her mouth slowly, softly, taking small nips and then outlining her mouth with the tip of his tongue. A frisson of pleasure shot down her spine. She clutched his tunic for support as her knees weakened.
His warm lips left hers, grazing her cheek, moving languidly to her ear. His teeth teased the lobe, causing another shiver of pleasure to sizzle within her. Then he nibbled his way back the way he’d come and found her mouth again, his tongue gliding along its seam. Elia opened willingly to him, something she’d never done before. Several courtiers had caught her in an embrace over the years, stealing kisses on the sly. Some even pushed their tongues into her mouth, which she’d only tolerated.
But this?
This was heaven.
Lord Ferand continued sampling her. Elia tasted a faint trace of wine and his scent proved intoxicating, a mix of something utterly male, causing the blood to pound in her ears. His hands had remained cinched to her waist, his fingers kneading her. But now they dropped to the curve of her hips. A low growl came from deep within his chest. She smiled against his mouth, the first time she’d felt her feminine power exercised over a male.
He broke the kiss and planted his palms on either side of her face. Their bodies almost touched but not quite. Heat radiated from him. His eyes locked on hers. Her whole body trembled as she saw the desire in them.
“I would tell you how beautiful you are but I am sure many men have done so before me,” he rasped.
“A few,” she admitted coyly.
“And that your kiss is one I could never get enough of. Have others told you that?” he asked, his lips moving along her throat and lightly grazing against it.
“Nay,” she said softly. “I have kissed a few men during my time at the royal court. Not many. Not often.” Elia paused. “And never like this.”
Ferand stopped. His lips left her throat. Raising his head, he asked, “You speak the truth?”
She could only nod. The fierce, tender look in his gaze almost undid her.
Strong hands cupped her cheeks. “I have also kissed my fair share of women. But none have tasted as you do. Full of light and sweetness.”
He brought his mouth to hers again and kissed her deeply, his fingers pushing into her hair. Elia’s scalp tingled. Her heart raced. Her blood sang. And where her legs joined together at her most private place, a throbbing had taken hold, pulsing with insistence, wanting something that she understood only he could give.
Elia knew nothing about this man—and yet craved his touch.
She blinked several times, trying to break the spell between them as she turned her head, breaking their kiss. She couldn’t afford any distractions and Ferand de Montfort was a huge one. Making her way home must be her priority, no matter how stirring his kisses were.
“I must leave, my lord.”
“Ferand. Please. Call me Ferand.” His callused thumbs stroked her cheeks.
Reluctantly, her eyes met his. “Ferand,” she echoed.
This man was more than a distraction. He was dangerous. Elia had to leave. Now. Before she did something she might regret.
“May I have my missive?” she asked, her voice low.
“What if Lord Ger—or someone else—stops you again? He left at my insistence but he still may not trust you.”
He was right. It would be just like the nobleman to be waiting at her bedchamber, trying to catch her with a missive addressed to the queen which should never be in her possession.
“Then burn it.”
He nodded. “I will when I reach my bedchamber. May I escort you to yours?”
Elia’s head told her to deny him that privilege but her heart spoke for her. “Aye.”
Ferand dropped his hands from her face, sliding them to her shoulders and down the length of her arms until he reached her hands. He pulled her from the alcove. No one remained in the corridor.
She led him through a maze of hallways until they reached her chamber. When they arrived, Elia knew she wasn’t ready to part from him. She made an impulsive decision.
“Lord Ferand, I am in great need. I must return to my home in Northumberland at once and need an escort.”
He studied her a long moment. “And you wish me to take you?” he finally asked. “Even if that might place you more in my debt?”
Tamping down the wild fluttering in her belly, she said, “Aye.” She swallowed hard. “My father will happily pay you for this service.”
His hazel eyes darkened in desire. “I don’t want your father’s money. I have something else in mind.”
“What?” she croaked, licking her lips anxiously.
“You and I will settle the score once we arrive.”
“But what if I find the price too high?” she countered, afraid of what the cost would be.
“You can decide that once we arrive. I’ll take my chances. When do you wish to leave?”
“I’ll tell the queen tomorrow.”
“Then plan on departing the day after.” Ferand bent and brushed a brief kiss against her lips. “Look for me tomorrow evening.”
Elia watched his departing figure with longing and then slipped inside her chamber.
***
AFTER A NIGHT of tossing and turning, Elia attended mass and broke her fast before making her way to the queen’s rooms. Seraphina was already there and told Elia the queen had only just risen.
“She seems distracted,” her friend said. “A bit like you. And your swollen lips.”
Elia flushed. “If you’re referring to last night, it was nothing.”
“Lady Elia?” The chief lady-in-waiting came toward them. “The queen is asking for you. She would like for you to read to her.”
“What did you think of Lord Ferand?” Lady Rose asked as they walked through several chambers.
“He seemed charming,” she said, “but I have news to share with you.” Elia paused. “I received a missive from my father last night. I am to return home in order to wed.”
The noblewoman looked disappointed. “When do you leave?”
Without lying, she said, “I am to be escorted home tomorrow.”
They reached the final chamber. Lady Rose took her arm. “Tell the queen at once. She has decided to begin her confinement tomorrow and needs to know you will not accompany her to the Tower.”
“I will, my lady.”
Elia pushed opened the door and saw a servant combing Isabella’s hair as she nibbled on a crust of bread.
“Your grace.”
“Ah, Elia. Come read to me. I had a restless night and would hear your soothing voice.” The queen dismissed the servant and handed Elia a small volume.
“Before we begin, I have something to share with you, your grace.”
Elia briefly explained about her father’s message and her plans to leave London the next day. Though her voice sounded unsteady to her ears, the queen didn’t seem to notice.
Instead, Isabella took her hands and squeezed them. “I wish you well in this marriage.”
“And I pray you deliver another healthy son.”
The queen shrugged. “Two are enough. I wouldn’t mind another girl. Eleanor has been such a good child, though you and I both know females are merely political pawns. I worry if I give birth to third boy that he might be another challenge to his brother’s crown one day.”
Isabella sighed and threw off her gloom, embracing Elia. “Stay safe. You’ll be near those angry Scots.” She paused. “You must have packing to do. Let your duties end here and now. I have plenty of others waiting upon me to help prepare for my confinement.”
Elia kissed Isabella’s hands. “Thank you for all you have taught me.”
“Send in Lady Rose.”
“Aye, your grace.”
She found Lady Rose waiting outside and told her the queen had need of her. Deciding not to tell the other women in the queen’s rooms of her departure since they might make a fuss, Elia tried to slip out unnoticed. Unfortunately, Seraphina followed her into the corridor.
“Where are you going?”
She owed it to her friend to let her know part of the truth and explained how she was being called back to the north to wed.
Seraphina hugged her tightly. “Oh, I will be sad to see you go, Elia, but ’tis probably for the best.”
Elia drew back. “Why do you say that?”
“I spoke with Lord Ger this morning. He said he saw you in a very compromising embrace with Lord Ferand last night.” Seraphina blushed. “He mentioned it to his wife, who was a childhood friend of Lord Ferand’s mother.”
When Seraphina hesitated, Elia encouraged, “Go on,” dread filling her.
Her friend twisted her hands nervously. “Lady Ger told him Lord Ferand wed several years ago.”
It was as if Elia had been slapped. All those passionate kisses—shared with a married man. She had avoided married courtiers as if they’d had the plague, only to succumb to a handsome stranger who’d betrayed his wife. Elia’s cheeks burned with humiliation. She would find Lord Ferand and give him a tongue lashing he wouldn’t forget.
Only that brought a thought of their tongues at war with one another last night and her body betrayed her, heating with the memory.
“Thank you for sharing this with me, Seraphina. I must go pack my trunk now.”
Elia fled the queen’s rooms, returning to her bedchamber. She packed her trunk, realizing it would remain at the palace since she had no way of getting it home.
Or getting herself home.
She wouldn’t allow Ferand de Montfort to conduct her to Northumberland, knowing what she did now. And knowing she would burn for his touch every step of the way.
Elia determined to find another way to reach home without the deceitful earl—even if she walked the entire way on her own.