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He laid her on the hard pallet and followed her down, taking her mouth with his again, fierce in his demand and his need. A
She could feel Simon’s hands shaking as he dealt with the hooks and bows and loosened her bodice. He bent to kiss the side of her neck as he slid his hand within her shift. A lock of his dark hair brushed her cheek and A
He brushed her shift aside and bent to cup her breast, taking one rosy nipple in his mouth. A
She felt Simon’s hand on her thigh beneath the heavy weight of her skirts. The air was cold against her skin. Then he eased back for a moment. A
She opened her eyes. Simon was sitting on the edge of the pallet bed, his hands braced beside him as though he was forcibly preventing himself from taking her in his arms again. He was breathing very fast and very harshly. And although his face was half-turned from her, A
The truth hit her then like a blast of winter air. Simon Greville had been about to take her, there in his quarters, like a soldier tumbling a camp whore in a ditch. And she had been about to let him do it. Simon Greville, her sworn enemy. It had happened so fast and so irresistibly. Now that sanity was returning to her she could not understand it at all.
The colour flooded her face; she made an inarticulate sound of shock and struggled to get to her feet, her hands shaking as she swiftly rearranged her bodice and dragged the fur-lined cloak about her. She held it wrapped tight to her like armour. She wanted to run away.
Simon had also got to his feet.
‘A
She shook her head sharply. ‘Do not. Do not say anything.’ She huddled deeper within the cloak. She felt desperately cold and alone.
‘I made a mistake,’ she said. ‘I thought we could go back, but we ca
They looked at one another and A
‘Take care,’ she said, ‘on the morrow.’
She opened the door and the snow swirled in for a moment and she stepped outside. It was cold out in the night and she wanted to run back to the warmth and safety of that room, and, treacherously, into Simon’s arms. But she knew that when they met again—if they met—she would be A
Chapter Three
‘Madam!’ Edwina met A
A
‘Thank you, Edwina.’
There were so few seconds in which to prepare herself. Gerard Malvoisier was standing with his back to the fire, feet spread apart, hands clasped behind him. He was a large and fleshy man who commanded the room through his height and girth, and because he had the air of one who knows himself superior to other mortals. His bloodshot eyes were narrowed in his reddened face where the veins mottled the skin. Years of good living had stolen much of his youth and vigour, and now A
‘Good evening, sir. In what way may I assist you?’
A
‘You may tell me where you have been for a start, madam.’ His voice was brusque. ‘Your chamber women did not appear to know where you had gone.’
Over his shoulder, A
‘I have been in the church,’ she lied coolly, ‘praying for a just outcome on the morrow.’
She could not be sure if Malvoisier believed her. There was an unconscionable amount of snow on her cloak to be accounted for on the short journey across the courtyard to the church. Malvoisier took a step towards her. It was clear that he was drunk and pugnacious, spoiling for a fight.
‘And what would be a just outcome, Lady A
A
Malvoisier made a noise of disgust. He had no time for divine intervention. ‘We shall prevail tomorrow. After all, we hold Sir Henry Greville and will show that cur of a brother of his what he must do to get his flesh and blood back.’