Chapter Sixteen #2
He squeezed her hand again, gently. “Nay, sweet, he does not,” he said. “That never even came up in conversation. He knows you are not to blame. But this is a situation that you and I must speak of honestly.”
She sniffled, blinking back the tears. “Of course,” she said. “But I have told you all I can.”
He was still gently fondling her fingers, trying to ease her. “I believe you,” he said. “But we must consider something in all of this, and that is… if you fail at your task, which you will, how determined is Cambridge to see Edward dead? Will he send someone else to do what you could not?”
She really didn’t have an answer for him.
“I do not know,” she said truthfully. “The first time I ever heard him speak about the death of the king was when he told me what he wanted me to do. I do not know if he will send anyone else or if he will simply forget about it. I will tell you that he tends to be fickle. Things that mean a great deal to him one day can mean nothing to him the next.”
“And you think he might forget his desire to see the king dead?”
She shrugged. “It is possible,” she said. “But it is equally possible that when I fail, he will send Neville de Baume or hire another assassin.”
Aidric mulled that over. He sat there, looking at her, holding her hand and hating Cambridge more by the second.
The man had taken advantage of this sweet, kind woman and he found that incredibly enraging.
Moreover, he didn’t care what de Velt said—he believed her.
He didn’t think she was capable of manipulation and assassination.
But he could also see how she could weaken him terribly.
He’d told de Velt that there was no woman on earth who could convince him to dishonor his oath, but the more he looked at Cleodora, the more he could understand how things like that happened.
He could only imagine de Velt in a similar situation with a lady warrior, his guard down and vulnerable as she tried to ruin him and his career.
That thought was the least bit terrifying.
“Then let us discuss that,” he said in a soft voice. “As I am the commander of the Guard of Six, you understand that it is my job to prevent all threats of death and danger against the king.”
She nodded seriously. “I do,” she said. “It is a very important position.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Here is the problem that I am having. I did agree to help you escape Cambridge and I shall do so, but when you vanish, there is a very real possibility that Cambridge will simply send someone else to assassinate the king in your stead. Does that make sense?”
Again, she nodded. “It does,” she said. “And it is possible.”
He sat back in his chair, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “Now, if you were in my position, how would you handle such a thing?” he said. “Would you wait for that assassin to come to the king? Or would you stop the situation at its source?”
She was trying to follow what he was saying. “Stopping it at the source would be safer for Edward, I think,” she said. “That would mean you would have to stop Cambridge somehow. He is the one who wants Edward dead.”
“Exactly,” Aidric said. “Cambridge wants the king dead. And how would I stop such a man from being a threat to the king?”
Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Put him in the vault where he can do no harm?”
“That’s one way,” he said. “But the man could escape and try again. In cases like this, it’s usually better to do away with the threat.”
“You mean kill him?”
“Eliminate him,” Aidric clarified, watching her face to gauge her reaction. “If Cambridge was dead, then he would no longer be a threat to you, either. You would truly be free.”
She had to process what he was telling her. Aidric could metaphorically read her thoughts, watching her expression, the way her pale eyes fixed on him, the way her eyebrows lifted. It was quite fascinating, actually. He expected confusion and questions.
What he didn’t expect was anger.
“Do you think I told you all of this so you would kill Cambridge?” she said, her voice rising. “You accused me of manipulation once. Is that what you are insinuating again? That I would play on your sympathies so that you would kill Cambridge for me?”
He looked at her, surprised. “Of course not,” he said. “I told you once before that I did not intend to assassinate Cambridge. That is not—”
She cut him off, yanking her hand free of his grasp as she stood up.
“I did not ask you to help me escape Cambridge in the hopes that you would simply kill him,” she said as if oblivious to his assertion that he was not an assassin.
“I would never do anything so wicked. All I wanted from you is help escaping. That is all. I did not ask you to kill the man.”
He held up his hands. “No one said you did,” he said evenly. “My lady, if you will just—”
“Nay!” she snapped. “Listen to me and listen well, Aidric St. John. I would never ask anyone to kill. Not for me, not for anyone. If that is what you think I asked you, then you have mud in your ears. It is preventing you from hearing what I actually said.”
He was beyond his surprise at her reaction now, genuinely trying not to smile because she was so angry. He found it rather humorous. “I heard what you actually said,” he said. “Did you hear what I actually said?”
“I heard you!”
“What did I say?”
“You said that if you killed him, I would actually be free!”
“Did I say I would kill him for you?”
She faltered, but only slightly. “That is what you meant!”
He couldn’t help the smile now. “That is not what I meant,” he said. “I kill in the name of the king. Not in the name of Lady Cleodora de Beaumont.”
She stood there scowling at him. “You had better mean what you just said.”
“I do, I swear it,” he said, still grinning. “Will you sit down now, please? I’m not finished speaking with you. Stop being so ridiculous and calm yourself.”
She made a face at him, like an angry child would do, and he laughed low in his throat as she plopped back down on the chair.
“Do not laugh at me,” she commanded.
“Why not?” he said. “You are quite amusing.”
“Anger is not amusing.”
“Yours is.”
She was back to scowling again. “I told you not to laugh at me.”
“Or what?”
“Keep laughing and find out.”
He snorted. “That, my lady, is an invitation.”
He kept chuckling and she lurched forward, her open palm flying at his face.
He was fast enough to catch it, and then the other one, as she growled and twisted like a cat in a snare.
He continued laughing because he simply couldn’t help it, and the more she twisted and fought, the more he laughed.
When she stood up and stomped on his toes, hard, he roared with pain but that was only a momentary break in his laughter.
He yanked on her, pulling her against him, with the intention of spanking her.
He was going to spank her good. But in the midst of their struggles, something strange happened.
Cleodora’s face was inches from his own because of the way he had her in his grip—that beautiful face, those luscious lips—and suddenly, he was seized with the urge to kiss her.
Of all of the misplaced urges, this one was the most misplaced he’d ever had, but it suddenly occurred to him that if he kissed her, she might stop fighting him.
Maybe it would stun her into a calmer state and he could continue the conversation with her. It might make her more compliant.
Besides… he wanted to.
In a flash, he slanted his lips over hers and wrapped her up in his big arms, kissing her in a way he’d never kissed a woman before.
Deeply, meaningfully, and without any hesitation whatsoever.
There was something about her that fit so naturally against him and, strangely enough, she wasn’t resisting him.
Not in the least. He was feasting on her and she was letting him.
Impulse took over.
The bed was behind them and, somehow, they ended up on it.
Aidric didn’t even remember making a conscious effort to take her there, but that was where they ended up.
He was stripping off his tunics, his weapons, functioning on an instinct he never knew he had.
Stranger still, Cleodora was helping him.
Everything he was wearing above the waist came off and ended up on the floor.
He wrapped his arms around her again, that soft vision in white wool, and his mouth descended on her neck, suckling it.
He could hear her gasp with pleasure.
But that wasn’t all she was doing.
Cleodora’s hands had moved to his breeches, untying them, sliding them down his hips.
God, it was all passing in a blur, like a wildfire.
It was white and blinding, flaring with no control.
Aidric hissed as Cleodora grasped his throbbing erection, stroking it before gently grasping his testicles.
Her touch was like magic. She rolled him over onto his back and pulled his boots and breeches off, eventually settling between his legs.
He lifted his head long enough to watch her take his erection into her mouth, but after that, he remembered little.
His eyes rolled up in his head as her tongue did wicked things to him.
It was beyond belief.
There was a very small part of him that wondered if he should stop this, but his lust, his attraction to her, had control over his common sense. What was it de Velt had said when it came to the woman he’d fallen for? For a brief moment, I surrendered.
Good God.
The same thing was happening to him.