Chapter Two #4
His eyes widened and he immediately dropped his hands from her head. Rising to his feet with shocking speed, Mossy was already in the door and Richmond heard it slam. He had no idea how long the old man had been watching them.
“Did you knock?” he demanded, more harshly than he should have.
Mossy did not pay him any attention. “Ye did not hear me,” he dug about in his bag. “Arissa, how did ye burn yerself?”
Arissa was in a daze. She was shaking so violently that she could barely function much less answer a simple question. Mossy turned to her, his ancient eyes grazing her stunned expression.
“Riss?”
She drew in a deep breath that sounded more like a sob. Senses returning somewhat, she raised her eyes to him. “Wax,” she whispered.
Richmond was standing across the room, attempting to recover his composure. He couldn’t believe how close he had come to kissing her. He couldn’t believe he had actually allowed himself to be placed in that position. What in the hell was he thinking?
Mossy was bent over Arissa’s arm, examining the red blotches. After a brief look, he took a vial of salve from his bag and smeared it on the wounds. Arissa winced and tried to jerk her arm away, but he held up a curt finger.
“None of that!” he said sharply. Mossy had never known a day of irritation or anger in his life, and Arissa was shocked to hear his tone.
Before she could apologize, the old man turned to Richmond.
“Come and hold her still, my lord. She cannot move about while I am trying to apply this salve. It must be applied precisely.”
Richmond did not hesitate, although he felt as if he were about to drown. He still was not recovered from the last time he’d touched her.
As Richmond reached the chair, Mossy pulled Arissa to her feet.
“Sit, my lord, sit,” as Richmond moved to do so, Mossy gently eased a very stiff Arissa onto the knight’s lap.
“There now, lass. Sit still. Richmond, put your arms about her so she doesn’t move.
I cannot have her moving about, disrupting my work. ”
Richmond swallowed hard. With the greatest reluctance, one massive arm snaked around Arissa’s slender waist while the other held her arm still. He could feel her shaking violently underneath his grasp. Or mayhap it was his own quivering. He couldn’t tell.
“That’s the way, my lord,” Mossy said softly, all of the fire suddenly gone from his tone. “Hold her tightly. Very tightly.”
The old man began to carefully apply a salve that had a burnt smell to it. He seemed to be putting a good deal of time and concern into a task that could have just as easily been accomplished in a few seconds. Richmond watched, Arissa quivered, as Mossy continued to stroke her arm gently.
“Hold her still now,” Mossy said, replacing the cork in the salve bottle and moving to place it in his bag. He continued to rummage about in his satchel for some time while Richmond maintained Arissa in a motionless position.
Seconds stretched into minutes as Mossy busied himself in his bag. Richmond could smell Arissa’s gardenias and they threatened to undo him. Her waist, slim and long, was barely an armful for him, and her rounded buttocks seated on his hard thighs were mayhap the greatest torture he had ever known.
’Twas silly, truthfully. He couldn’t count the times that Arissa had sat on his lap, giggling as he tickled her or sleeping peacefully in his arms. When she had been very small, she almost always fell asleep in his arms. She was afraid of the dark and he had made her feel safe.
Odd, he thought, that a situation that had occurred habitually for several years was suddenly the most erotic event he could ever recall.
If Richmond was feeling vastly peculiar, it was nothing compared to Arissa’s slow death.
To feel him touching her, holding her, was bliss beyond compare.
She’d been in this position before, seated on his lap while he told stories of battle or tales of fairies.
She’d always relished the feel of him, the comfort of his closeness.
But at this moment, she wished she were seated anywhere but upon his lap.
She knew he could feel her emotions, seeping through her skin and infecting him. He had always been highly intuitive of her emotions and she was positive he knew her innermost feelings. For the sake of her foolish emotions, she had never been more ashamed.
Mossy was spending an excessive amount of time digging through his bag. Arissa sat like a stone and Richmond’s palms were beginning to sweat.
“What are you doing?” Richmond finally asked, his voice strangely tight.
Mossy did not say anything for a moment.
Then, he chuckled. “God’s Teeth. I have forgotten.
” He suddenly closed his bag and flashed them a toothless smile.
“Sleep with the arm exposed to the air tonight, Riss. The salve should ease the pain and there is less of a chance that the wounds will blister.”
Richmond and Arissa watched, open-mouthed, as Mossy escaped the bower as silently and as swiftly as he had entered. Richmond swore he caught a glimmer of mischief in the aged brown eyes.
The bower door was left ajar. Arissa, acutely aware of Richmond’s heated body against her, felt her cheeks flushing mightily. As discreetly as she could manage, she slipped from his lap and nearly stumbled in her haste to put distance between them.
Richmond watched her, disappointed and relieved at the same time.
Clearly, there was no mistaking the flush to her cheeks and he knew it was because she was angry with him.
Angry he had clutched her so intimately, angry that his manners had been sorely lacking.
Had Mossy not interrupted them when he did, there was no telling how badly he would have behaved.
What puzzled him, however, was why Mossy returned them to a position that was nearly as intimate as the first. With Arissa sitting on his lap, clutched against his chest, it was almost as if Mossy wanted them to be close.
As if he suspected what was occurring within Richmond’s heart and sought to torture him. Crazy old bastard.
He rose from the chair, clearing his throat. “Does it feel better?”
She nodded, unable to look at him. “Soothed, at least.”
He gazed at her dark head, wondering if he should apologize for their close contact. He’d never apologized for all of the innocent occasions in which she had been enfolded in his arms, or seated upon his thighs. Why should he apologize for something that was completely natural?
“Riss, are you all right?” Regine was suddenly in the doorway, her blue eyes wide at her older sister.
Arissa smiled bravely at the younger girl, relieved with the diversion. Richmond’s presence had her shaken. “Fine, Regine. Mossy put a bit of slime on my arm that should heal it properly.”
Regine’s eyes were big on Richmond. “You saved Bart.”
He smiled wearily at the girl. “I prevented him from breaking his artful neck.”
“He has a bruise on his bottom the size of a melon,” Regine said happily. “Mother thinks he has ruptured a vein.”
Richmond snorted. “More than likely he’s managed to damage his brain, considering his intelligence is lodged in his arse.” When Regine giggled, he patted her fondly on the head. “Let me guess, you curious little wench. You saw the bruise, did you not?”
“Of course I did,” Regine tossed her long blond hair flippantly.
Richmond shook his head reprovingly. “I was hoping you would outgrow this intensely curious phase you have been going through, but I see that I have been wrong. I told you no more spying on the soldiers, no more kissing the serving wenches in order to learn their techniques, and you were not to demand explicit stories from the stable boys any longer.”
Regine avoided his gaze, wandering over to her older sister. “I do not kiss the serving wenches any longer. Just the boys. I am developing my own techniques.”
“No more of that. I shall blister you again if I have to.”
Regine hid herself behind Arissa, pressing against her sister’s back in hopes of evading Richmond’s piercing stare. “You are not my father.”
“Hmm,” Richmond cocked a dark eyebrow. “I have kept your disgraceful secrets long enough; any more tales of your promiscuous streak and your father shall know the truth of it. You are too wild for your own good, Regine Margaret. ’Twould do you well to learn to behave as your elder sister does.”
Regine’s plump arms wound around Arissa’s waist. It looked as if the eldest sibling had grown a new pair of limbs. Richmond met Arissa’s gaze, unguarded now that she was no longer the focus of his attention. Silently, she implored him to ease his assault against the inquisitive young girl.
As always, he would do as she asked, audibly expressed or not. He’d always given in to her desires without a struggle. It did not prevent him, however, from giving Arissa a long look as he moved towards the door.
“My lady, I shall leave you to retire. Next time, you would do well to heed my orders so that you do not find yourself injured,” he peered around Arissa, meeting Regine’s pouting gaze. “Good eve to you, my lady.”
His boot falls faded down the hall. Arissa stood in the center of the room, her sister wound around her waist as if the raven-haired beauty could protect her from Richmond’s wrath.
Regine had always been terrified of the massive knight with the deep, growling voice.
Especially when he disapproved of her slightly perverted juvenile experimentation.
But Arissa had never been terrified of him. At least, not in the literal sense. Even though her arm throbbed with burn and her head swam with confusion, she was not nearly as shaken as she had been moments before. In fact, she was aware of a rather pleasant mood settling.
Something had occurred, although she was not sure what, exactly. The only element she was able to decipher was the fact that Richmond’s touch had gone beyond the usual fatherly gesture. And his beautiful eyes, barely lined with his age, had spoken to her. Words she had never heard before.
Oddly, her confusion and shame gave way to a most unexpected smile.