Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
By the time Gwenllian dismounted from Starburst, her whole body was on fire.
Being in Alexander’s arms had created havoc with her senses.
The movement of the horse under her, mimicking the lewd thrusts of a lover, had heated her blood to an unbearable point.
This ride had been the best, most deliciously erotic moment of her life.
She remembered feeling some of that tension the day he had brought her home to Audley, of course, after rescuing her, but today it had been different, a hundred times more potent. They knew one another now. He knew her as his friend’s sister-in-law, and she knew him as the wonderful man he was.
And they had kissed, of course.
That kiss
Go drapia! She was still not quite sure what had motivated it—relief, gratitude or desire—and she still didn’t know who had initiated it, but one thing was certain: she would never forget it.
It had been hot. It had been sweet. It had been devastating and, strange as this description may be, both unexpected and natural.
It had not been her first kiss, if you considered that kissing was the act of placing one’s lips against someone else’s, but what she had done with Alun and Tomos could not even compare.
The sensations provoked by the young Welshmen had warmed her chest, the ones Alexander had roused in her had scorched her entire body.
Had it been the same for him? She doubted the feeling would have been as strong.
He was older, no doubt more experienced, he would have kissed more than two women in his life.
And he would have done a lot more than kiss them, of course.
What type of lover was he? Attentive yet demanding, she suspected, tender yet assertive. Insatiable probably. He would make his conquest—
“Sir Alexander!” a voice boomed, bringing her back to the present.
A stout man was walking up to them, his face wreathed in smiles. It was obvious he was pleased to see Alexander, who slid down from the saddle and greeted him with a nod. “Henry.”
“What brings you here, my lord? Except the best ale in the county, that is?”
The jest was acknowledged with a snort. “In truth, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Of course, of course. Anything for you, you know that.”
Gwenllian wondered what made the man so eager to please.
Had Alexander been of assistance to his daughter in the past, fending off a persistent suitor?
Had he paid off a debt for the man? Whatever it was, it was clear it had earned him his lifelong gratitude, and she was glad of that, as it would now bring Old John’s salvation.
“Would you send your son to Audley Castle as escort to this man?” Alexander asked, gesturing to the man who had dismounted and was rubbing Starburst’s neck with obvious delight and expertise. The gelding was blinking in appreciation.
“Of course. Thomas will leave in the morning. The man can sleep in the stables with him tonight.”
And so it was decided, as easily as that. “Thank you, you will be compensated for your trouble, of course.”
Henry waved the thanks away. “Ah, don’t worry about that, my lord; I’d rather have your trust than your coin. Now come. You must be thirsty after your ride.”
She certainly was, Gwenllian had to admit, so she followed without a word.
“I have a room you and the lady can use for the night,” Henry was saying as he led them into a surprisingly cozy establishment.
She had not been in taverns very often, but the ones she had been to had not been anywhere near as clean and welcoming.
“I usually don’t mention it because I’m not running an inn, but you, my lord, are no ordinary customer, and seeing as you are traveling with a lady this time, I thought you might want to use it. ”
“Thank you, a room would be most helpful.”
Indeed. Gwenllian could barely hide her enthusiasm at the prospect.
They had been on the road for three days now, and though she didn’t mind, she relished the idea of lying on a real bed.
Then it hit her. The man had mentioned one room, therefore probably one bed.
Would she and Alexander have to share it? It was likely. Would she mind?
Sitting down, she accepted a cup of frothy ale and took a sip so as to hide her smile.
No, she wouldn’t mind at all.
“There you are, my lord, your accommodation for the night.”
Alexander nodded at Henry to signify his satisfaction.
The room in question was small but well-furnished and clean, just like the main room downstairs.
It would do very nicely. He would never have dared bring Gwenllian to any of the less reputable establishments, where the smell of ale and unwashed bodies competed with piss for dominance in the customers’ nostrils while they drank, but Henry’s tavern was well-kept as could be.
He threw a swift glance in Gwenllian’s direction.
What would she make of the prospect of sharing a room with him?
She hadn’t said anything in front of the tavern owner, but perhaps she was waiting for them to be alone to voice out her concerns.
He would understand and go join the old man in the stables if she preferred to be alone.
“I will have a supper sent to you. Will her ladyship like to make the most of the evening to have a bath?” Henry asked.
Alexander could tell Gwenllian was tempted to accept but didn’t want to be an imposition.
“Yes,” he answered in her stead. It might be her only opportunity to bathe in privacy until they reached her friend, and she would be glad of it.
“I will send one straight away.” The man bowed and exited the room.
“So,” Alexander started once the door was closed. Gwenllian was looking at him with wide eyes. He had better set her fears at rest without delay. “I will naturally sleep on a rug by the fire tonight. Unless you prefer I leave the room altogether?”
“No, I don’t, but you can’t—”
“I can and I will. We both need rest.”
And neither of us is going to get it if we lie next to one another.
As soon as he felt her warm softness against him, he would roll her over and do something that had little to do with sleep—and would only get him into trouble.
To his relief, Gwenllian did not insist he share the bed with her and accepted his suggestion that he lie on the floor.
It was the only way he would be able to stay in control.
That still left the problem of the bath.
He could not stay in the room while she washed.
But even if he left, he knew he would be unable to stop himself from imagining everything, just like he had the other night. And then he would get hard.
Again.
It seemed he had done little else than get aroused from the moment his path had crossed that of his little Buttercup.
Just then, a knock was heard, providing a welcome distraction from his lewd thoughts.
“Come in,” he called out.
Two servants entered, carrying a huge wooden tub. They placed it in front of the fire and were soon back with buckets. Alexander and Gwenllian waited in silence, avoiding looking at one another, until the tub was half filled with warm water. Then there was no avoiding the reality any longer.
“I will go have a drink while you bathe,” Alexander announced once the bath was ready. The tub was taking up almost all the space anyway, so there was not much choice.
“Thank you.”
He left without a backward glance.
A short while later, alone in the main room downstairs, Alexander wondered what kind of mess he’d landed himself in.
What on earth had possessed him to offer to accompany a lone woman on her way to Scotland?
Worse, a woman he desired? There had been other, less dangerous ways to escape Colin and his blasted mistress.
He could also have arranged an escort for her.
How had he not guessed that his choice would end in disaster?
He slammed his cup on the wooden table. As he’d feared, all he’d been able to think of while he drank was Gwenllian, soaking in her bath upstairs, rubbing her creamy skin with the small cake of lavender soap the maid had given her.
Damnation. The whole room would be smelling of it tonight, of her. How would he bear it?
After a while, he estimated that he had given her long enough. The water would be cold by now, anyway. She was most probably out of the tub. Heart pumping heavily, he made his way back up the stairs, readying himself for a night of torture.
His knock on the door was tentative. “Gwenllian, are you finished?”
“Yes.”
She sounded hesitant, so he wasn’t sure whether he should enter or not. The best way was simply to ask. “Can I come in?”
“Yes.” Another hesitation.
“Is everything all right?” No answer. Worry spiked through Alexander. What was happening in that room? Was she not alone? Was she in pain? But why? “I’m coming in. Make sure you’re decent.”
After a few heartbeats, long enough for her to cover herself if need be, he walked in through the door.
Gwenllian was sitting in the middle of the bed, alone, thank God.
But, dressed only in her shift and hugging her knees, she looked like a little lost girl—and her cheeks were wet.
Blood rushed to Alexander’s head, and he didn’t think.
Slamming the door shut, he rushed to the bed and scooped her into his arms.
“Who hurt you?” he asked, feeling murderous.
Who had entered the room while he was downstairs, making sure to stay out of the way?
Oh, what a fool! What had he been thinking?
He should have stayed outside the room, at the top of the stairs, anywhere where he could stop any ill-intentioned individual from making the most of the presence of such an unusual guest in the tavern.
Was it the old man, John? Had he been playing the role of the innocent better than either of them could think, and bided his time until he could find Gwenllian alone?
“No one hurt me,” she said in a small voice.
“What happened then?” Something had, he was sure of it.
“I-I don’t know.”