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There. He spied a small group of men on the far side of the wood. Perhaps a dozen intruders, most on horseback. He didn’t know if they were searching for Carice, but he intended to find out why they were here. Silently, he gave his horse a light push, sending the animal out of the woods and back to the abbey. Then he moved in closer, climbing a tree to get a better glimpse of them.
One was carrying the High King’s banner, and he saw another older man whose face appeared grim. The Irish soldiers broke off into smaller groups, searching the forest—most likely for Carice.
She’d wanted her freedom and had fought with all of her strength to flee these men and reach the sanctuary of the abbey. If he wanted to be rid of her, all he had to do was bring them to her.
Yet, that wasn’t at all what he wanted. He didn’t know why a possessive urge had come over him, but he could not allow her to fall into the hands of these men. He had failed, time and again, to save innocent people from being harmed. Carice would face punishment for daring to run, and he didn’t want that to happen.
This time, he would succeed in protecting an innocent life.
An insidious voice within him prompted, Or you could use her to get close to the High King.
He shut down the thought, for his own purposes didn’t matter. What mattered was protecting the lady from being recaptured—for if those men reached the abbey, they would find her within moments.
Unless he intervened.
The best way to keep her free of these men was to hide all traces of her. Raine climbed down from the tree, hurrying back to the outskirts. They would find his tracks and follow him, but he had an advantage. He knew the abbey well, after spending days here. He also knew of the secret passageways between the walls, for the abbot had left one of them open. Most of the alcoves were so narrow, his shoulders brushed against both sides of the walls—but no one would find them.
When Raine reached the clearing, he found his horse and swung up, riding hard for the abbey.The only thing that mattered now was protecting her.
And in this, he would not fail.
Chapter Two (#ulink_f74af490-cf5a-58b1-848a-ce4ca75ca890)
Carice awoke to the sound of her chamber door being thrown open. Raine de Garenne stood there, his hood down at last. Why? He’d gone to such lengths to conceal himself that she’d begun to think he was scarred or disfigured in some way. Instead, he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.
His dark golden hair was cut short against his head, his face clean-shaven. His eyes were a deep green, his mouth a firm slash. There was a quiet sense of determination about him, an air of command that gave her confidence. She had lied before when she’d claimed she had seen his face. But now that she saw him, she felt a rush of self-consciousness.
Before Carice could say anything, he dumped sand upon the fire, extinguishing it immediately. Then he crossed over to the bed and pulled back the coverlet. ‘Come with me,’ he commanded, lifting her into his arms.
‘Where? What is happening?’ Her pulse quickened with fear as he strode towards the wall.
‘The High King’s men have come for you. And I suspect your father is with them.’
Dear God. Then they had tracked her here, as she’d feared. If they found her, they would force her to continue towards Tara, the dwelling of the Ard-Righ. She couldn’t bear the thought.
But Raine’s strength was comforting, and she rested her cheek against his chest, feeling the cool links of the chain mail armour he wore. It was a tangible reminder that he was a soldier, a man fully capable of guarding her.
He led her to the back corner, where a simple cross hung upon the wall. After setting her down, he seized the cross and pushed hard. A chunk of stones the size of a window moved inward, revealing an opening just large enough for her to climb inside.
She wanted to ask questions about how he’d known of such a place, but Raine’s swiftness revealed the need to remain silent. He lifted her into the space, and she found herself within a narrow corridor hidden behind the wall.
He stood upon the bed and swung one leg, then the other, into the opening, before setting the stone and cross back into place. Darkness enveloped them, and she kept both palms upon either wall, trying to ignore the cold. Her body shuddered, her teeth chattering.
‘Your hood,’ she started to ask, but he drew his arm around her waist and touched a finger to her lips.
‘I need you to trust me.’ He spoke in a low whisper against her ear. She supposed that was the reason why he had revealed his identity. Though she didn’t understand why he had wanted to remain hidden, now it seemed those plans had changed.
She obeyed his command, moving in closer to draw warmth from his body. He stiffened when she put both of her arms around his waist. She was so tired, so weak, but this was the only way to stop herself from trembling.
He brought her closer, surrounding her in an embrace. The moment her body was pressed against his, it was like an awakening. She grew aware of his hard, muscled body and the masculine scent of him. His strong arms made her feel protected, and it dissipated the fear.
The heat of his body was welcome, and she snuggled in close. His mouth rested against her hair, and she felt a subtle shift in the way he was holding her. It was as if he were conscious of the way they fit against one another. She stood between his legs, and against her body, she felt the sudden rise of his arousal.
Carice knew she ought to move away. It was a natural reaction of a man to desire a woman—especially when their bodies were so close. But instead of being afraid, she found that she was responding to his touch. She rested her cheek against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin. This man could have harmed her many times over, yet he’d not laid a hand upon her, except to guard and protect.
Curiosity wove a web of interest, and she grew more aware of him. It was a good feeling to be in a man’s arms. And though he was a stranger, she liked what she’d seen. Most maidens would be shy and awkward in such close proximity. But her own opinions had changed over the years.
No longer did she care about what was expected of her. She’d grown so weak, and the knowledge of her impending death gave her a courage that she’d never anticipated. This man had kindled an unexpected need, and she wanted to know more.
The chamber door suddenly flew open, and she gripped him tightly, out of shock. Men entered the room, and she heard her father’s voice.
‘I want her found. This is the closest shelter to our camp, and she must have been here.’
‘She might have,’ one of the men remarked. ‘But if she did, she’s gone now.’
In the darkness, Carice sensed Raine’s tension. He was listening to every word, his hands tight around her waist. Whether or not he would admit it to himself, his sudden choice to hide them was the action of a man who would not hand her over to her father. She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling so grateful for his protection.
He stroked back her hair, still holding her close. And the longer he held her, the more she wanted to explore these unknown feelings. She had never been in a man’s embrace, for her father had threatened all the men of the tribe. They would not dare to defy Brian Faoilin or touch his daughter.
But this was her life now, and she could make her own choices. In the darkness, she reached up to Raine’s face, touching his cheek. She explored the smooth surface, fascinated by him. He caught her hand and drew her fingers back to her lips in a silent warning to be still and silent.
The risk of being discovered was far too high. She knew that—and yet, she was tempted to seize a moment to herself. He was only going to push her away as soon as they were out of hiding. She wanted to embrace every last chance to live, even if it was pushing beyond what was right. Raine would never understand her need to reach out for all the moments remaining.
This man intrigued her, for he was a living contradiction. He was both fierce and benevolent, like a warrior priest. And though he claimed to be a Norman loyal to King Henry, she knew he was a man of secrets.
His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, his face revealing hard planes. A sudden heat rushed through her as she explored his features. During her life, she’d never had the opportunity to be courted by a man, and even her illness had shut her away from the world. Her father had isolated her until it seemed that only the hand of Death was waiting in her future.
Perhaps it was the lack of time that made her act with boldness. Or perhaps it was her sudden sense of unfairness. There was a handsome man beside her, one who attracted her in ways she didn’t understand. Being so near to him was forbidden...and undeniably exciting. Why shouldn’t she seize the opportunity that was before her?
Her pulse was racing, and the proximity of his body against hers was a very different kind of risk.
He leaned down and against her lips, he murmured, ‘Don’t move.’ The heat of his breath and the danger of discovery only heightened the blood racing through her. She was aware of every line of his body, of his warm hands around her, and the feeling of his hips pressed to her own.
Her imagination revelled in what it would be like to be kissed by this man. His mouth was so close to hers...and if she lifted her lips, they would be upon his.
Carice gave in to impulse and stood on tiptoe, brushing her mouth against him. She wanted to know what a real kiss was, even if it was given by a stranger. But the moment she kissed him, he went motionless. Instead of taking her offering, he grew rigid like a block of stone.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, when she realised the mistake she’d made. She wanted to tell him that it had only been a whim, hardly more than a means of satisfying her curiosity. But she could not dare to speak a word, not with her father’s men still inside the chamber.
There was a rigid tension within Raine, and she understood that she had overstepped her bounds. His hands tightened upon her waist in a silent warning. Unfortunately, she could not move away from him, because of the tiny space within the walls.
The voices in the chamber grew quieter, and eventually she heard the door close while the soldiers searched the remainder of the abbey.
‘Why did you do that?’ he demanded in a low whisper. The feeling of his mouth against her ear brought a rush of gooseflesh over her skin.
He was right—it had been nothing but a mistake. There were no excuses for what she’d done, and he wouldn’t understand her reasons. But even so, she answered honestly, ‘I wanted to know what it would be like to kiss a man. You were near, and I acted on impulse. I wasn’t thinking clearly.’
‘We could have been found by those men,’ he whispered harshly. ‘Or was that what you wanted?’ He touched his finger to her chin in silent chastisement.
She winced, embarrassed by what she had done. All she could say was, ‘Have you never acted without thinking?’
‘No.’
And she suspected that was true. This man was iron-willed, a strong soldier accustomed to making battle plans. His commanding presence suggested that he expected all orders to be obeyed.
She tried to extricate herself from his body, but he stopped her. Against her ear, he murmured, ‘We cannot leave yet. They may still be nearby.’
Carice said nothing, but turned her back to him. At least then he would know she hadn’t truly meant to bother him.
The tension lingered, making her feel ashamed of what she’d done. If he had stolen a kiss from her, she might have had the same reaction. It was no wonder he hadn’t kissed her back.
Liar, her mind chided. If he had kissed you first, you would have enjoyed every moment. She pressed both hands to her cheeks, wondering what was the matter with her. Standing with him in the dark was giving her a strange sense of recklessness. But then again, when you knew your life would likely end before the year was out, there was no reason to be coy or shy. She couldn’t bear the thought of the High King being the only man to ever kiss her. The chains of her betrothal were suffocating, and she fought against them with every breath.
Raine’s hand brushed against hers, and he threaded his fingers as he held her palm. His gesture confused her, for it was almost an apology. She squeezed his hand in return, wishing she could go back and ask permission before she’d assaulted his mouth.
His thumb began to stroke the edge of her hand in a silent caress. It confused her, because wasn’t he angry with her right now? She closed her eyes, though his touch echoed within other places in her body. She tried to focus on the freezing cold stone walls or on how weary she was.
Not the man who was quietly undoing her senses.
But then, he took her hand and brought it to his neck. Beneath her fingertips she felt the warmth of his bare skin, and she couldn’t resist the urge to put her other hand up, bringing them back into an embrace.
He leaned in, and against her lips, he whispered, ‘We are naught but strangers, Lady Carice.’
They were. And perhaps that was why she wanted to kiss him. It would mean nothing, and after they parted ways, she would have a memory of what it was like to kiss a man.
She kept her voice hushed and murmured, ‘That is why it will not matter to either of us.’
His hand cupped her face, and she felt the forbidden heat that was there. She brought her hand back to his face, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Upon his throat, there was a faint trace of bristle, as if he’d missed shaving there.
And then he did lean in, kissing her softly. It was hardly there at all, and she felt a sense of disappointment. He was holding back, treating her as if she were made of glass. She could almost imagine his silent question: Was that what you wanted?
No, it wasn’t. Several times, she had seen men and women engaged in trysts. On some nights after they celebrated feasts, she would sometimes find couples stealing time together. But there had never been anyone for her. And then she’d grown so ill, she hadn’t been able to leave her chamber.
The kiss had been an idle wish born of longing and loneliness. She found Raine de Garenne quite handsome...and she knew that there would never be anything more between them, beyond a day or two spent in his presence.
His hands moved over her face, framing it. For whatever unknown reason, his touch was now a silent question. He was waiting for something, and she knew not what. In answer, she tightened her arms around his neck. Both of them were aware that these moments were unwise, and if she were caught in the arms of a Norman, her father would murder Raine where he stood.
She didn’t care.
Carice had no time to react before his mouth descended upon hers. The kiss was hot, melting away her awareness of the outside world. Her lips merged into his, and she tasted a hint of mead upon his breath. His tongue entered her mouth, and her knees gave out at the unrelenting sensations. He caught her, pressing her back against the frigid wall. But as his mouth consumed hers, she felt none of the cold—only a desire that was transforming from a kiss into a frenzied need.
‘No one will take you against your will,’ he murmured against her mouth before he claimed it again. ‘Not while I’m here.’
* * *
He was behaving like a ruthless bastard. Raine knew it, and yet, he didn’t want to stop kissing this woman. Despite her frail body, there was a fire within her. He tasted her yearning for a different life, and she had kissed him first. Though it might seem that she was a woman of loose virtue, somehow he didn’t believe it. Her gesture spoke of a woman who wanted to claim every last moment of life before she went to her grave.
It was unnerving, and yet, he was entranced by her sweetness. She aroused him with the barest touch, and his wicked mind imagined touching her boldly, marking her innocent skin. But he would not force her into more—not as weak as she was.
Raine broke the kiss and listened intently. There was no sound of her father’s men, and when he peered through a tiny crevice, he could see no one. He supposed it was unwise to reveal his face to her, but he’d spoken the truth when he’d said he needed her to trust him. It was unlikely that they would see one another again, and if he saved her life, she would not believe he was guilty of killing the High King.
‘Do you think it’s safe?’ Carice whispered. Her voice was breathless, and her hand touched his. ‘Are my father’s men gone?’
‘Stay here while I look.’ He pressed her back into the shadows while he pulled the stone door open, climbing into the chamber.
The moment he entered the room, he drew his sword, listening hard. Carice obeyed his orders, remaining hidden within the wall.
When there appeared to be no danger, he moved towards the door, waiting. Though it was likely that the men had continued their search elsewhere, he knew better than to believe that the threat had vanished. He rested his hand against the door, keeping his sword poised. Seconds ticked by, and he threw open the door, only to find an armed soldier standing guard.
Raine shoved the man back against the wall, his sword at his throat. ‘Why are you here?’ He spoke in his native language, not caring if the man understood him or not.
The soldier’s face went white, but he stammered a reply in the Norman tongue. ‘The—the chief of the Faoilin clan is searching for his d-daughter.’
‘Do I look like the sort of man who would allow a woman to trespass here?’ He pressed his blade against the man’s throat, leaving a trace of blood.
The soldier’s hands were shaking, and Raine told him, ‘Leave your weapons behind and go. And if I see you or any of the other men return, you won’t breathe again.’ Never once did he speak in the Irish language, for he wanted the man to believe he was an enemy.
He released the soldier, and the man hurried down the stairs. Raine followed him, keeping his weapon drawn. The chapel was empty, and he crossed the space, watching as the man retreated. It soon became clear that the guard was the only one left behind, for a single horse was tethered. He guessed that the man had stayed to learn whether or not Carice had hidden herself.
Which she had, but thankfully, the woman had not emerged from her place within the wall.
Raine watched while the man rode away, and he wondered what he should do about the Lady Carice. He had been commanded to kill the High King—Henry had demanded it as the price of his sisters’ freedom. It would cause chaos in the midst of Éireann, making the provincial kings rise up against one another. And it would allow Henry to gain full control of this land, creating order where there was none.
Carice Faoilin could allow him to get even closer to the High King, giving him a reason to be at Tara. Why should he not deliver the missing bride to her betrothed husband? Especially if Raine intended to kill the man anyway? Carice would not have to wed Rory Ó Connor—not if he carried out the man’s death sentence.
And yet, she had already fled her father in an effort to avoid the marriage. If he tried to bring her to Tara, she would only run away from him as well. Or if Trahern MacEgan arrived, she would go willingly with the man she had already asked to save her. Raine turned over the idea in his mind, wondering if he should use her or let her go.
She kissed you, his conscience reminded him. What sort of man would betray a woman who had willingly touched him? Only a bastard whose soul was already damned. He hardened his heart, knowing that it was better if she hated him. He was a killer, not a man worthy of redemption.
Yet, he didn’t want to let her go. Not only was she the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she had awakened a protective instinct within him. He wanted to guard her innocence, to see those sky blue eyes look upon him with gratefulness. She was unable to defend herself, and he wanted to slaughter any man who dared to threaten her.
There was no logical reason for his possessive urges, save her touch. It had conjured a fire inside him, stoking the need to caress her, to make her burn in the same way he did. The taste of her lips had aroused needs he’d buried for months. And if he took her with him, he could spend more time in her company.
After he was certain the soldier had gone, Raine returned to the sanctuary. Shadows clung to the stone walls, and he stared at the simple altar, remembering the men who had died in the fire. He could almost sense their chastisement for the thoughts he was considering. For a moment, he rested his palm upon the wall, hoping the men’s souls had found peace.
Slowly, he ascended the winding stairs and pushed open the heavy wooden door. He expected to find Carice seated before the fire or resting upon the bed. But she was not there.
He walked towards the opening in the wall and peered inside. She was seated on the floor with her knees drawn up, and her body was shivering violently.
‘It’s safe to come out,’ he told her, offering his hand. But she didn’t take it.
His suspicions tightened, and he stepped into the opening. When Carice didn’t move, he reached down and lifted her into his arms. Dieu, she was so light. And despite the gown and cloak she wore, her skin was like ice.
‘I was c-cold,’ she said. ‘And I didn’t have the strength to climb out. I am sorry for it.’ She was trembling, and he brought her over to the bed, tucking her beneath the coverlet. ‘I heard you talking to someone. Who was it?’
‘One of your father’s men.’ He reached for her hand and began rubbing at it, trying to bring warmth back into her skin. ‘I sent him away.’
She closed her eyes and murmured, ‘I am sorry for disturbing you here. I will leave as soon as I can.’
