Peony Page 16

  She sat next to him on a boulder, her pulse quickening. “Did you really have a question about Gaston? I think Jacques is doing a fine job mentoring him.”

  He held her chin, his amber eyes dilated. He hesitated for a heartbeat, just to make sure this was something he wanted to do, and then kissed her.

  The touch of their lips was as perfect as she’d been afraid of.

  Hard yet soft, warm. Non, hot, as he breathed into her mouth, his tongue sweeping hers with gentle persistent strokes.

  It was as if they were meant for one another, the way she caught on fire from one touch. Who was she trying to fool? All he had to do was look at her and she melted like butter in the sun.

  She pushed at his chest, not wanting a replay of their last intimate encounter. If she was going to do this, she’d make sure he wouldn’t run away. Still kissing him, she pushed harder, feeling something crack.

  She sat back, her gaze flying to his. “What was that?”

  He clenched his jaw. “Nothing.” He lowered his head. “Something I found.”

  She tapped at the area on his chest. The hollow sound confirmed her fears. “You have my drawing. Why are you hiding it? Why didn’t you just give it back?”

  “You are very talented.”

  “It’s a sketch of the river. On a piece of bark. I could make you something better.”

  “I would like that.” Shamefaced, he pulled the bark from his tunic, where he’d wrapped it in a thin layer of flannel. “Here.”

  Curious as to why he behaved so strangely, she unwrapped the sketch. Her mouth dropped open.

  Payen tapped the rock between them. “That’s Ragenard?”

  “Oui.” Her chest ached. She didn’t remember drawing his likeness, but she’d done it, to the exact flare of his nostrils. The arch of his brow. The twinkle in his cursed eye.

  “He is a handsome man.”

  “Was. Was a handsome man. He’s dead and has been for over a year. Why is it that nobody will let me get past it?” The necklace at her throat heated, and for the first time in a year, she wanted to take it off. To throw it in the bushes or in the river and let Ragenard haunt someone else.

  “You are the one who drew the likeness,” Payen said crisply. “Why can’t you let him go?”

  She got up from the rock. “How right you are. You enjoy being right, I know. I thought I liked that about you, but I’ve changed my mind. I want you to stop pestering me with questions I am not going to answer.”

  He grabbed her sleeve. “Why do you leave rather than have a rational conversation?”

  “Because I have a temper.”

  His brow arched.

  “It is true.” She crossed her arms, wishing things were different, but as Ragenard’s damned necklace kept reminding her, they weren’t. “I have a temper, and when I lose it, bad things happen.” She shook her hands at her sides.

  Payen’s mouth twitched.

  “So that is funny? I don’t understand you.”

  He stifled his laugh. Payen de Montfer did have a sense of humor.

  Too bad it was as warped as damp parchment.

  Payen held his laughter, though it was difficult while she shook her hands as if she were getting ready to fight.

  Her dark hair twisted down her back, with little silk peonies tucked in, like treasure to search for, if one was unraveling the braid. She smelled faintly of roses but not quite roses, spicier, more subtle.

  Her head at his chin level, she was the perfect height for kissing. Her smooth lips, her mouth.

  He lost where he’d been going with his detailed deduction of Lady Catherine le Rochefort, widow of reckless Ragenard.

  She’d married a man like his brother. He could tell by the handsome eyes she had drawn on the bark.

  With a solemn nod, he stood, handing her the bark drawing she’d left on the rock. “I am sorry for kissing you.”

  “Are you?”

  “No. But if I offended you—”

  “I would have cut your throat.” She patted her sword.

  A woman had never told him that before, and he found it rather cleared the way. “Forthcoming. Can you always be so easy to understand?”

  Catherine’s brows raised. “Did you forget to eat today? You are not making any sense.”

  “How can you say that? For once, I feel like we understand one another.”

  She tossed the drawing on the ground. “I am going back. I will not sit by you at the fire. I’ve promised Emperor Conrad.”

  “Now I am lost again.” He sank to the edge of the stone. Did she want to kiss him, or did she not want to kiss him? How could she stand so close? It was all he could do to keep his hands gripped over the rock ledge and out of her hair.

  “Ragenard was my husband, and I loved him. But he is gone, and I would like to move on with my life. Unfortunately, I need a few more months before I am really truly free. I can’t ask you to wait for me. I can’t be around you without wanting you.”

  Payen wanted the same thing, so why couldn’t they have it? Did she play with him? Toy with him for some foul purpose he didn’t know?

  “I want you to go back to riding with King Louis, but I know that isn’t going to happen. I will ask the queen if I can go instead.”

  He stood, anger dethroning lust. “You would rather ride at the other end of the caravan than be near me?”

  “Because I can’t have you. Aren’t you listening?”

  “I really don’t understand. You went from logic to babbling.”

  Her eyes sparked. “I warned you about my temper.”

  He scoffed. “You pant after Emperor Conrad. I am not blind.”

  She grimaced to show what she thought of that.

  “I refuse to let you demean yourself with the emperor, who will toss you aside like old dog bones.”

  “I don’t want the emperor like that.” She paused. “Can you keep a secret?”

  Games. He shoved his hair out of his face.

  She led him back to the rock and pushed him down, then sat next to him. “I think Emperor Conrad is negotiating something with Emperor Manuel. I can’t tell you why I think this; you just have to trust me.”

  “Why would I trust you? You are crazed. First you see ghosts, and then you see drama and intrigue where there is none. I would know.” He’d observed nothing untoward. Well, besides her theft of Conrad’s correspondence. “I can’t even listen to this.”

  She tugged his arm. “Please, Payen? If I am wrong, then let it be so. But if I am right? And he plans to hurt our monarchs?” She tilted her head. “It’s the only reason I told you. I could use help, and you are as loyal to the king as I am to the queen. If we join forces . . .” She shrugged.

  “You don’t have to do any of the dirty work, and if I get caught, you can play innocent.”

  “Only if you insist.” She had the gall to send him a smile that teased him directly below the belt.

  “I must think on it.” He scowled. He’d wanted a tryst and ended up suspicious of a royal friend to the king. “Tell me what you know.”

  She sat, tucking her legs beneath her on the rock. He was reminded that she was more than a lady of the queen’s retinue. She was a trained guard, whatever that meant. She’d shown him up in a rock challenge. She’d promised to cut his throat if he tried anything she didn’t want him to try.

  She looked like a dark-haired angel and kissed like a courtesan.

  “I learned that Conrad and Empress Irene have a deeper friendship than one would expect between an emperor and another emperor’s wife.”

  “Since Irene is Conrad’s sister by marriage, that is not surprising.”

  She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Oh? What about private correspondence indicating an insider, if Conrad wanted assistance in taking over Constantinople?”

  Payen’s head suddenly cleared. “You have proof?” The letter she’d stolen. He should have stopped her. He would have to tell the king.

  “Non. Which is why I need your help. I w
ould see the correspondence between them.”

  She wanted more? “You could get killed for doing that.”

  Her chin lifted. “Our king and queen could be marching into a trap. Tell me how the entire German army goes out and only a handful of people come back, one of them being Conrad? You don’t find that suspicious?”

  He tugged at his ear, hearing his father’s admonitions to clear the family name of all dishonor. He remembered Louis’s resolve to be blessed and forgiven the travesty of Vitry. It would do no harm to observe, and it might benefit the king.

  “I agree to watch him for a few days. That is all. I will not steal.” Unless Louis needed him to.

  She blinked and licked her lower lip. “Thank you.”

  Damn you. He stood, furious at being pulled into her scheme but wanting to kiss her until she thought of only him.

  “Payen, if you don’t want to help me, I can do it myself. It’s just that, since we are already working together with Gaston and since you thought I wanted to lie with Emperor Conrad, I thought I owed you the truth. It’s why I couldn’t sit with you by the fire.”

  Payen took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Well, now you can.” A tiny ray of hope flickered to life. “Since you don’t need to flirt your way into Conrad’s tent, you can be with me.”

  He pulled her close, holding her gaze.

  “I am not free, de Montfer, to do more.”

  He ached, literally. “Free of whom?” He would run any man through who thought to get between him and Catherine.

  “Ragenard.”

  “He is a ghost, Catherine. I am real.”

  “Real.” Their verbal banter felt like foreplay, whetting Catherine’s appetite for more. Defying reason, she greeted his lips with hers and pulled his head closer to deepen the kiss.

  His quiet moan spurred her further, and she pressed her breasts against his muscular chest. His scent, his taste, the way he maneuvered their bodies so that his hardness pressed into all the most wonderful places . . .

  “Let’s go into the trees.” Her breaths came fast.

  “Are you sure?” His mouth claimed hers, his tongue hot, his lips commanding.

  Her body hummed. Who did she hurt taking this for herself? They were each adults, neither encumbered. And what if Payen banished Ragenard’s ghost, as he claimed he could? All she cared about was Payen, despite the heat of the necklace against her throat.

  “Yes. Someplace private.” She didn’t want anyone spying their activities and drawing the wrong conclusion. This was her body answering to the desire in his body and nothing else. No explanations.

  Her breasts ached for his touch.

  He found a shallow cave, not cozy but tucked away. “I wish we had a pallet, a blanket, wine,” he said. “We could come back later.”

  “Too complicated.” Catherine ducked inside the stone enclosure. “We haven’t much time before people notice we are gone.”

  He clasped her upper arms, pulling her down to the mossy rock. “Your cloak?”

  “Turn it inside out. Nobody will see the dirt.”

  “Let me.” He slipped off his cloak and laid it down. “Not much of a bed.”

  “Kiss me. Don’t think.”

  He lay down, partially covering her. Bending his head, he gently parted her lips with his tongue. He trailed a hand up her thigh and over her hip. He removed her sword and his, placing them side by side on the ground.

  Her tunic split at the sides, her hose tied to the braies that protected her delicate secrets. His tunic came to the thigh, making him much more accessible. Catherine slid her hand up the length of his leg, the velvet muscle of his back. She moved her hips against his hardness, pulling him closer. He pressed against her, then pulled back with a seductive growl.

  Her body thrilled at the sound. She answered by wrapping her legs around his hips, holding him where she wanted him.

  “You make me feel like an untried boy,” he whispered against her mouth.

  “You make me feel desirable.” She brought his hand to her breast. The fact they might get caught urged her on. “Hurry.”

  “I would take more time.” He kissed her neck, the soft skin behind her ear. How had he known to breathe just there?

  “No. This is perfect.” She twined her fingers in the hair at his nape.

  The cave was not big enough for them to sit or change position. He had her pinned between his arms as he poised above her.

  Catherine arched her hips, untying the cloth that kept him from finding her, pushing aside the fabric. Her heart raced, she placed her palm over his tunic-covered chest, feeling his heart beat just as fast. They were together, the same, but different in the best ways.

  She opened her legs, welcoming him.

  He hesitated. “You are mine.”

  She sighed as he thrust inside, demanding more even as he filled her, expanding, pulsing. Satisfaction she’d known he’d provide crashed through her waiting body. The tremors began small, then rippled until her entire body quaked. Her immediate response, to cry out her love for him, could not happen, and she lightly clamped her mouth to his shoulder.

  High on the wave of euphoria, she battled her senses, his words filtering through at last. Mine? His emotions would bind her, them, together. Guilt immediately followed pleasure.

  If she gave in again, her secrets would be laid bare for Payen’s perusal.

  Taking his head between her hands, she forced him to look at her. “I belong to no man.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Catherine, her entire body alive with satisfaction, made her way toward her red-haired friend sitting on a wide tree stump by the fire. The dark of night shadowed her sin.

  “You have been with de Montfer,” Mamie announced, her green eyes sparkling in the firelight. She laughed and pulled Catherine to sit next to her. “If I couldn’t have him, I’m glad you did. You still want the emperor too?”

  “Ouch, Mamie. Take the lashes from your tongue. I have no need of the emperor.”

  She gazed at the fire. Her meeting with Payen had been explosive, like tinder to powder, as if they’d known each other’s bodies before. He knew where to stroke, where to press, and she instinctively understood what he wanted too. It terrified her.

  “How did you know?” she finally said.

  “I know because the handsome lord is wearing the same satisfied grin as you. Anybody watching either of you slink back separately but both with twigs in your hair? They’ll know.” Mamie snickered.

  Catherine quickly patted her hair. “Has the queen asked for me?” She tossed aside a leaf.

  “Non. Are you expecting a meeting?” Her friend leaned close and whispered, “Have you discovered anything?”

  “Mamie!” This was not the proper setting for such a private conversation.

  “Fine. Don’t answer my questions. I think I’m in the mood for German tonight.” She stood and blew Catherine a kiss.

  Before Catherine could decide to stay or go, Jacques was there with a trencher of roasted meat. Gaston appeared on her other side with a mug of ale. She was glad she’d kept the seat.

  “Thank you! Have you mistaken me for the queen, to pamper me so?” She accepted the mug and swallowed. The bitter brew assuaged her thirst, and she attacked the shredded venison with the same joy. “This is perfect.”

  “Do you want more?” Jacques said.

  “Non. This is plenty.” She finished a bite. “Where is de Montfer?” Her senses were more alive than ever, and she could taste the garlic, the onion, and the peppercorn Cook used to season the meat.

  “Here,” he said, walking toward her. “I was getting my own plate, since my squires prefer to serve you.”

  She inhaled his sandalwood scent as he sat next to her. She’d blame the firelight for her rosy cheeks. As she ate the last bite, her gaze strayed to his strong fingers holding a hunk of venison. Even that seemed sensual.

  She was ready for him again. Dear God, call her Jezebel.

  With strict deter
mination, she looked around the fire. The king and queen were seated at a high table with cushioned stools. They may have been camping, but the queen enjoyed small luxuries.

  “Look at Odo,” Payen whispered in her ear.

  The royal couple had rekindled their liking for one another, if Odo’s frown was anything to judge by.

  “He’s the only one who doesn’t look happy.” Payen’s hot breath tickled her neck, and she leaned back so his lips touched her skin. Shivering, she forced herself to scoot an inch away.

  Catherine didn’t question her decision to ask Payen for aid. As much as she teased him, he was observant and closer to the royal men than she could get on her own.

  “A few more days until Smyrna,” Fay said from her place next to Hector.

  Hector held Fay’s plate, offering her choice morsels. It was very romantic, and Catherine saw that Eleanor approved.

  “Will we be dragged to see—I mean—” Sarah coughed. “Will we be canvassing the ruins?”

  Eleanor shook her finger. “Sarah, you may not be excused. No, what I have in mind is a guided tour of the churches. Such beauty exists, by the grace of God, and it is our blessed obligation to see it.” She kissed Louis’s knuckles, then pressed his hand to her cheek.

  “We will see the churches and, if we have time, perhaps a ruin or two.” The king laughed, his gaze never straying from his attentive wife. “The place is littered with them.”

  Odo threw a bone into the fire, where the fat sizzled and popped. “Ruins. What we need are supplies. We are on a holy crusade. We fight a war against the heathens!”

  “You are in charge of supplies, Odo, as always.” King Louis patted his beard. “You and Thierry. The Turks stay back out of firing range of our arrows. They menace us no more. So long as we are not in danger, there is no harm in seeing places where Christ and His disciples did their work for God.”

  The two advisors looked at each other, scowls on their faces.

  Catherine wished the queen well as she sought to gain her husband’s approval despite at least two obstacles. “Did you see that? How the king’s men don’t bother to hide their dislike for the queen?”