Free The Maiden Bride by Linda Needham Page B

so perfectly, so persuasively into the curve of his hand.
    "Do you like sugared plums, Nicholas?" She let go of his arm and pulled a small bag from her sleeve, capturing his wrist as she put the bag into his palm.
    Sugared plums—his weakness. Deeply red, overripe, and darkly sweet. How could she possibly have known? A wife's instinct to satisfy her husband, to tempt him to sample her as well? "I do, madam. Thank you."
    "My pleasure. And good night again, sir. I shall pray tonight for a carpenter, and a mason, too. I hope that you do as well."
    As it always was, his prayer would be for peace and salvation—both of which seemed more impossible than ever as he watched her leave the barbican with her bobbing lamp. Aye, and her lushly bobbing breasts.
    He followed her, well out of her hearing, just to be sure she made it all the way to the keep, his heart rambling the passages ahead of her, wondering where she would sleep, wishing it could be in his arms.
    Bloody hell. Barely half an evening with the woman and he was already making love to her fingers, making marvels of her casual kiss.
    And imagining so much more.

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    Chapter 7

    « ^ »
    E leanor had dreamed through the night of a prowling, red-eyed gargoyle and awakened before dawn, thoroughly rested and eager to organize the day well ahead of her steward's prejudgments.
    That would remain her creed in her dealings with him: to take firm control of the reins and never—
    Dear God, I kissed him! Out of habit, because she kissed all sorts of people, regularly. Pippa and Lisabet and Dickon, the abbess, Father Clyde and … well, everyone whom she cared for, respected.
    Nicholas's carving had charmed her completely. He had charmed her. She'd meant only a simple kiss of appreciation, but she'd ignited flames and yearnings instead. She'd lingered like a thief, tasted the surprising black softness of his beard. His scent of bay and woodsmoke swept round her still.
    But these were hardly the kind of thoughts she needed with a castle waiting to be rebuilt.
    She shook Dickon awake at the portico door. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he got to his feet.
    "Dickon, what do you know of horses?"
    "I've stolen more'n my share." She loved the bumptious slant of his grin, mostly because he wore it too rarely. And too quickly his face flamed beneath all those freckles, and wariness filled his eyes. "But I've given up stealing, ya know."
    "I would never ever ask you to go raiding for me. But since we now have a horse, would you know one end of it well enough from the other to feed and saddle and shoe Figgey?"
    That smile came again and stayed. "My lady, I know horses well enough to do all you ask, on a moonless night, at a dead gallop, with a legion of Edward's English bowmen on my arse. Why do you ask?"
    She couldn't help her own smile. "I'd rather the king's men never again have reason to follow you so closely, Dickon. And I doubt Figgey could raise a trot, let alone a gallop. I'm asking because I want you to be the constable of Faulkhurst."
    "Me, my lady?" His face grew unaccountably surly. "Why the bloody hell would you do a thing like that to me?"
    "A thing like what?"
    "To tempt me to sinning." He crossed his arms and ankles and leaned stubbornly against the arch jamb. "I am a highwayman, ya know."
    "Were a highwayman."
    "Aye. Were one—but sometimes I still get the itch to—" He shoved his fingers into his belt as though to trap them away from temptation.
    "To jump out of the hedge and rob a passing merchant of everything, right down to his garters?"
    Dickon's mouth hung open for a long moment, and then he nodded fiercely. "Exactly right, milady."
    "And does this itch pass you by an instant later?"
    "God be praised, it does."
    "Then, love, it's only the prickly remains of a bad habit. The feeling will fade completely one day—like mine has for sugared ginger." A tiny falsehood, but only to gain the point that he had will enough to decide rightly and to get on with his future. "You