The Protector Read online

  Morvan watched the pleasure overwhelm her and fought the battle of his life against his inclinations. He had told himself with that first kiss that he had made a promise and he would keep it. And so he drew a line and when he crossed it he drew another, and then another, but her passion repeatedly broke his resolve and drove him toward the possession he craved.

  She gave herself over with an abandon that made the morning seem tame. There was no defense, no withholding, and every caress brought physical and audible responses. She had come to him already aroused, just as he had come to her, and he took as much pleasure in her in-expert passion as he did in the waves of heat burning his blood.

  He fought for control, but the moments of sanity were hard to find, and her cries as he touched the center of her pleasure drove him over the edge of the precipice.

  “Look at me,” he said again. She forced open her eyes, liquid and dark with desire, and he watched her watch him as his finger found her passage. She tensed against the invasion. He probed deeper, his thumb gently playing at that other point of pleasure.

  When he touched the barrier, he was disappointed as well as relieved. He had never really believed Gurwant, but if she hadn't been a virgin it would have made things different.

  He gently stroked her, fighting the urge to go on, knowing that she was beyond stopping him if he did. The teasing pleasure turned her wild. She arched against his hand and cried out his name again and spread her legs wide, begging for more.

  That did it. His battered resolve crumbled. He pushed down her hose and pulled them off her legs and then she was stretched out naked in front of him as she had so often been in his mind.

  She was beautifully proportioned, and her active life had given her muscles firmer and more defined than most women's. There was a tautness to her thighs and shoulders and stomach. Her breasts rose round and high, their light brown nipples tight and their swells hard with her need. Her legs stretched long and slim, with gentle curves. One of his hands returned to the blond hair at the top of her thighs as the other began untying the lace on his hose.

  She turned toward his touch, grasping to embrace him. Her movement revealed the side of her hip, so that he could see the edge of the wound on her left flank.

  Even as he continued arousing her, even as she cried out and reached frantically for him, a series of unwelcome thoughts pierced his single-minded need.

  Gurwant's claim of success and the proof of his failure …It is about taking. Not me, but La Roche de Roald … The promise he'd just made to her …You are not touching and confusing me now and I am not willing. …

  Regretting what he was doing even as he did it, angry that she meant enough to him to require such a sacrifice, he swung away abruptly and turned from her to sit on the edge of the bed.

  His body yelled in rebellion, and it took a few moments to collect his control.

  A hand touched his back like an unspoken question, and then fell away. He looked over his shoulder. Anna huddled against the wall, the bedsheet pulled up to her neck, her face buried in her knees.

  He had handled this worse than a green boy might have. “Anna.” He reached toward her.

  She held up a hand of warning and reproach.

  “Do not blame yourself that it went so far, Anna. It was my promise to you that was almost broken, and any fault is mine.”

  “Then I should count myself fortunate to have been with a man so capable of restraint.” Her voice came low and muffled, and with a bitter note.

  “Anna—”

  “Leave. I want you to go.”

  Anna gave herself over to mortified humiliation. She stared at the door through which Morvan had entered and left, staying only long enough to vanquish her, not even needing the final act to know his victory.

  She wanted to hate him, and to blame him as no more than a predator. But her memories would not let her. What predator would have stopped when he had?

  What man would have?

  She pushed down the sheet and looked at her body. It had been the moment he'd seen her like this that he had been repulsed. The sighs and raised eyebrows of her mother and maids, the stares of people, even Gurwant's impotence that night, crowded her thoughts. It was true, then. She really was unnatural and grotesque. It had saved her from rape when she was a girl, but this was different.

  She was glad that she was going to Saint Meen. She thanked God that duty and circumstances had not permitted her to waver in that decision. The idea of a life as some man's wife, of being an object of revulsion like this or, worse, of having to submit and endure as some man forced himself to do his duty, sickened her.

  A visceral anger toward Morvan pounded through her. She resented him for awakening this side of her. She had been content without it. She had learned to stand proud and straight in her difference, had even turned it to her advantage. She had always known what she lacked, and she didn't need the truth thrown in her face. He may not have intended to insult her, may even have been surprised by his ultimate reaction, but he had cruelly forced her to face her inadequacy all the same.

  And as she waited out the night, alone and naked on the large bed, she managed to find some hatred for him after all.

  CHAPTER 14

  MORVAN, ANNA, AND GREGORY stopped at the end of the long lane leading to the country house. They had ridden in rain all day, and only recently had the clouds broken to permit a bit of sun to shine.

  At London Morvan had gone into the city to see if his sister was at her home there, only to learn that she had taken refuge from the plague in Hampstead. So they had circled the city and ridden the five miles to this country lane. On their way, they had stopped at a livestock market and arranged to quarter the horses, and Morvan's four men had finally taken their leave.

  The house was wider than a city home and two stories high, with a stone base and a timbered and plastered upper level. Good-sized windows, all of them glazed, dotted the walls, with three side by side on the second floor overlooking the entrance. Two gardens flanked the doorway, planted with roses that would fill the building with fragrance when in bloom.

  A servant crossing the yard saw them and hurried inside. A young woman appeared in the doorway, carrying a child in her arms. She cried Morvan's name, handed the child to the servant, and ran to meet him. Morvan trotted his horse forward and swung off to embrace his sister.

  She grasped him as if she feared he would disappear. She had matured since he had last seen her, her thin frame having taken on more womanly curves. Her dark hair hung loose down her back and the white skin so envied by the girls at court was flushed with excitement. Her dark, expressive eyes sparkled brightly.

  “Almost three years, Morvan. No word since Crécy. I had to learn from others that you even lived. And then the plague … I will not let you leave quickly now, brother. You had best not be stopping for a meal on your way to somewhere else.”

  “I will be in England some while, but I know not how long. Do you think David would mind if you gave my friends a place to stay?”

  “Of course he would not mind. And you will stay too.”

  “I will go elsewhere.”

  “Nay, you will not. I will not be denied. David has been as worried about you as I have. He asks after you of everyone he meets from the Continent.”

  Morvan doubted that. If his brother-in-law sought information on him it was probably with the hope of learning he was dead.

  “He will be here this evening. He will invite you himself. You will see.” She looked down the lane. “I am forgetting my duties. Please tell your man and your squire to come. You are all in need of food and warm baths.”

  Anna sat tall on her horse in her tunic and hose and cloak, the hood over her hair, the sword on her saddle. “That is not my squire, Christiana. It is a lady. Her name is Anna de Leon. I have brought her here from Brittany.”

  Christiana looked at Anna with new interest. “The sword. Does she use it?”

  “She has been known to.”

  “
David will be fascinated.”

  Morvan waved Anna and Gregory forward. Christiana greeted them warmly. “You must stay here. There is room for all.”

  She eyed Anna subtly, and as they entered the house she gave Morvan a glance that said she expected full details later.

  The front of the house was a good-sized hall with several tables, and Christiana sent for some food and drink. The child was brought, and Christiana placed the year-old boy in Morvan's arms. “His name is Hugh, after Father.”

  He gazed down at his nephew. The boy had his sister's eyes, but her husband's face. If he were to never have a son of his own, this boy would be the next heir to the lost lands of Harclow. “A fitting name,” he said.

  Christiana stepped close to take the child from him. “It will be yours, brother. Both David and I are sure of it,” she whispered.

  The servant carried little Hugh away and they sat to eat. Morvan explained the reason for the visit.

  “The court has returned to Windsor,” Christiana confirmed. “The King and Queen went to more isolated manors during the worst of the plague, but Windsor seems free of it now. London, however, is still dangerous, and the conditions there are disgusting. Waste fills the streets and there is no one to clean them. David had moved most of his goods outside the city before the sickness struck. Everyone said it would not cross the sea to us, but he thought otherwise. After all, they say it was ships that first brought it to Genoa. This has been devastating to everyone.”

  Morvan glanced around the attractive room, at the neatly carved chairs and well-made benches. Tiles paved the floor, and a tapestry hung on the wall. David de Abyndon had a Midas touch, and as a young man his sharp wits had led him through some big risks that had made his fortune. Even if the plague stopped his business for a year, Morvan doubted that it would ruin him.

  “Why do you seek an audience with the King?” Christiana asked Anna.

  Anna had said little all day and nothing after her perfunctory greeting upon their arrival. He had tried to speak with her about that night, but her manner toward him had been cold and forbidding. She had acted ever since as if he were a sword who protected her and nothing more. His initial surprise had turned first to anger, but now it just troubled him.

  “It is the young duke whom I need to see. I need him to recognize my father's testament. I also need his blessing on my sister's marriage, and permission for me to take the veil.”

  Morvan read the burning questions in his sister's eyes. Their cheese and ale finished, Christiana stood up and took Anna's hand. “I am happy that you have come to us. Now, I'm sure that you would like a bath before some rest. The servants have one waiting in your room.” She turned to Morvan and Gregory. “My men will show you to yours. Morvan, if you are not too tired, perhaps we can talk after you have refreshed yourself.”

  * * *

  When Anna woke it was almost dark. She rose and stepped from the room. The door to the solar stood open, and she heard low voices coming from within. She entered to see Morvan and Christiana talking by the fire.

  He wore garments that she didn't recognize, and she guessed that they must be his own, left with his sister before he went to France. The cut was the fashionable courtly style called the pourpoint, fitted tight about the torso and arms and with loose cloth from the waist to mid-thigh. It showed off a man's physique more obviously than did the old-fashioned tunics and cottes of rural Brittany.

  They greeted her, but just then a servant stuck her head in to announce the master's horses coming up the lane. Christiana hurried out of the room. Morvan rose and went to the windows overlooking the entrance. His expression became hard.

  “You do not care for this husband of your sister, do you?” Anna said.

  “Nay. Nor he for me. He will not be pleased that I am here.” He glanced at her, and then trained his eyes out the window again. “My sister was the King's ward, and lived under the Queen's supervision. But there were no lands, no money, no dowry. Somehow this man came to see her. While the King was preparing for war, David offered for her hand. He asked for no dowry, but instead offered to give the King a fortune for her. I objected to the King, but he needed the money and agreed to the match.”

  The sounds of horses could be heard outside the house now. Anna joined Morvan at the window. Three men approached, and she had no trouble identifying the master of the house. He rode tall on his stallion ahead of the two servants, the thick folds of his cloak floating about his body.

  “And your sister. What did she think of all of this?”

  “She was young and educated to accept such decisions. She cannot be happy about being married off to a commoner, though.”

  In the yard below David dismounted. He smiled and opened his arms. Christiana darted into them and he swung her around in a warm embrace and deep kiss. Anna glanced over at Morvan, who looked startled at the display.

  “I can see what you mean,” she said. “Your sister appears positively miserable.”

  Christiana spoke to David, then he glanced toward the house. He was a surprisingly handsome man, with regular features, chiseled bones, and a straight nose. His golden brown hair feathered down the sides of his face to his chin. He walked toward the house, his arm still around Christiana.

  The sounds of arrival echoed below and then on the steps. David and Christiana entered the room.

  There was the slightest pause as David regarded Morvan with blue eyes full of intense inspection. Then he strode across the room, his arms extended.

  “Welcome home, brother.”

  The evening meal was a luxurious affair. They had fowl and venison and fish, all served on silver plates. The wine was excellent, and Anna had a glass more of it than she usually did. She sat herself next to Morvan, but it was just her way of making sure that she didn't have to look at him.

  Eventually she would have to speak with him, but not yet. Her embarrassment still burned. If she didn't ignore him, she feared that she would be undone all over again.

  After the meal Gregory excused himself from their company as they all moved their chairs to the fire. Again Anna managed to sit next to Morvan, but in a chair angled toward David, who explained conditions in England.

  “Almost a quarter have died in London, and while the worst is over, there are still deaths every day. The cost of everything is bound to rise, and trade ceased last summer and has not resumed. If our King has any ideas of financing another war, I hope that he has magicians at court to conjure up the money.”

  “Do you go into the city?” Anna asked.

  “Only when I have to, and I do not let my servants or apprentices come with me. The city government is ineffective, and crime has increased.”

  “I would very much like to visit London, if only for a few hours. I haven't seen much of cities.”

  “You must not, Anna,” Morvan said. “Christiana described the conditions to us, and now David says that it isn't safe.”

  It turned out that Morvan expected no response, for, having announced his will, he now turned the conversation away from the topic. “Is there word that the King is planning another campaign?”

  “The treaty with France runs for some years, but Edward has given no indication that he is relinquishing his claims to the French crown.”

  “Enough of plagues and politics,” Christiana said. “David, Anna goes to the court at Windsor. I have told Morvan that she can use our house there. I would like to go with her and stay a short while. It has been a long winter, and I would like to see my friends.”

  “I should go as well,” David said. “If the court is returning, there is business to be done. But I cannot leave for two days. Can you wait and go to Windsor three days hence, my lady?”

  “Aye. I have quartered some horses at a market north of the city. Perhaps I can sell them while we wait.”

  “Charles of Blois will probably be with the King,” Christiana said. “High-ranking prisoners usually move with the court. Have you ever seen him?”

  Ann
a had never met the French husband who claimed Brittany's ducal crown through his marriage to Jeanne de Penthièvre. His capture by the English had done little to stop the civil war. His wife continued to organize the fight for their cause.

  “Some of your people believe that he is a saint,” David said. “He wears sackcloth and rough ropes next to his skin, and does not bathe overmuch. He prays constantly, I am told.”

  “He is a French butcher. He murdered hundreds at Nantes after it fell. There is nothing saintly about such a man, and if he claims to be meting God's justice, he blasphemes. I hope that I do not see him,” Anna said heatedly.

  “Well, he hardly attends many feasts, being so ascetic,” David said. “I doubt that you will meet.”

  “I do not think that I will go to such festivities either. I do not go to the court for pleasure.”

  “You have not taken the veil yet, my lady. Why not enjoy yourself if the occasion arises. Even bishops do so.”

  How could she explain that not long ago she would have attended such functions with curiosity, but that now she would feel conspicuous, and the object of unkind curiosity herself. A person could stare down just so many raised eyebrows.

  She suddenly was furious with herself for feeling this way. It was as if she no longer knew herself at all, or that she no longer liked what she knew.

  She decided that she had done her duty as a guest. Claiming fatigue from the journey, she retired to her chamber.

  She had almost entered when she heard a step on the stairs. Morvan's tall form rose into the passageway.

  Before she could escape, he took the candle from her hand and pulled her into the solar.

  Morvan lit more candles in the solar and then turned to her. She gazed past him, through him. It chilled him to realize how quickly she had created this strangeness between them.

  “What troubles you, Anna?”

  “Nothing troubles me. I wanted some time alone. I have always liked being alone.”