Borderland Beauty Read online

  “This is beyond absurd!” Crossing her arms over her chest, Lucy’s jaw clenched and Dominic struggled to hold back the grin that tugged across his face as she stormed up the stairs to the minstrel’s gallery. Ack, she was such a creature to behold. He relished that fiery temperament almost as much as he relished that sweet face.

  Montgomery clapped his hands together. “Right, let us ready and then we’ll bid you farewell. I apologise for cutting things short, Thornewall.”

  “Pray do not apologise. We know only too well the toll that the reivers take.”

  Giving him a curt nod, Montgomery motioned to his wife to follow. Lady Eleanor paused in front of Dominic. “I will trust that you do the right thing by my daughter, Lord Dominic. I see what there is between you but I ask that you tread carefully. I think you see only too well that she is a rare woman and worth taking the time to pursue.”

  “Aye, my lady, she is indeed a rare lassie. I assure you that I will treat her well. I hope that I shall have the occasion to call you mother before long,” he added with a grin.

  Lady Eleanor’s cheeks flushed. “Good day, my lord.”

  “Good day.”

  Contemplating the stairs that led up to the gallery, he sighed. As much as he intended to court her slowly, he feared her retreating too far. If he could only break through her judgements of him. He snorted. Lucy was the first woman he’d ever struggled to deal with. He could not coax her with flattery nor fine words. She was a myth to him.

  Climbing the stairs, carefully, he approached her tentatively. “I know…”

  She whirled to face him at the sound of his voice.

  “I know this news is not pleasing to you, but I promise I will do my best to ensure you are happy and comfortable here. Winnie can attend to you,” he offered feebly. As if that was much of an inducement. “You are better off here. I would not see you harmed, Luce.”

  “‘Tis not my happiness or my comfort that I worry for.” She let out a sharp laugh. “Why, it is not even my virtue. ‘Tis my people.”

  “Your father will see to them. ‘Tis far better you are here. You can be of little help…” He trailed off as he saw her eyes narrow. Damn his unthinking tongue. Why was it so hard to say the right thing around Lucy?

  “Think you that I would not raise a sword if I could? I have seen much blood spilled these years, just as you have. Think you it does not anger me as much as it does you? But I know I cannot unleash my anger so I would wish to be at my people’s side, doing what I can to help them through this grievous time.”

  Dominic nodded slowly and studied her indignant face. God’s blood, but she was glorious. All fire and passion. She would make one hell of a mistress of Thornewall. He placed a careful hand on her shoulder and though she flinched, it pleased him that she did not move away.

  Her eyes shimmered and a thousand words of apology burnt in his mind, yet they would not come to his tongue. He, who always spoke boldly and understood how to soothe every mood a woman possessed, could not find the words to comfort her. In his idiocy, he had only served to exasperate her sorrow.

  For want of any other way to comfort her, he yanked roughly on her arm and flattened her against his chest, his arms enclosing her forcefully. Lucy made a sound of surprise but her body softened quickly into his. Dominic fought the rising desire that threatened to make his blood boil and concentrated on the tiny tremors of her body, and her virtually indiscernible sobs. When he was sure she would not bolt, he relaxed his grip and stroked his hands up and down her back, the silk of her gown rasping gently beneath his fingers.

  Lucy gripped on to his tunic, keeping her face buried against his chest as her delicate cries subsided. He risked pressing a kiss to her head, taking a moment to breathe in her fragrance. The fresh scent of her transported him back to the ice and the look in her eyes as she had lain on top of him.

  Sniffing, she drew up her head. He tensed and waited for her to pull from his grasp but her hands remained on his chest as she raised her eyes to his, her spikey lashes urging him to swipe away the dampness. By some miracle, he kept his hands on her back. Dominic could not afford to scare her away with bold moves.

  “Forgive me, I did not think. I should not have said—”

  “You should watch your tongue more carefully, Lord Dominic.” She gave him a watery smile. “And here I thought you were meant to be a fine master of words, especially around women.”

  “Aye, I am well aware of it. It would seem that around you, I am lost for words.” He reached for a strand of her hair that lay across her shoulder and twirled it absently around one finger. “‘Tis frustrating, for I dearly wish to charm you with them. It seems I am forever destined to fail.”

  Nibbling on her lip, Lucy stared up at him, her eyes searching for something. He wanted to offer her whatever it was she wanted but, as usual, he could not figure out what it was.

  “‘Tis safer to have you here,” he offered. “I would not wish to see you harmed.”

  “I know,” she agreed quietly.

  Did she? Did she understand how important she was becoming to him? The thought of the reivers getting their grubby hands on her twisted at his gut.

  Something changed and she stiffened against him. Whether she recognised the intensity of his feelings, he couldn’t tell, but her expression quickly shuttered, hiding away her vulnerability once more. Her fingers slowly unfurled, releasing his tunic. With a sigh, he let his arm drop from her back but he kept hold of the strand of hair, a vain attempt at prolonging contact with her.

  “I…I had better say farewell to my parents.”

  He nodded slowly, dropping the lock of hair. “Aye, of course. I’ll have Winnie move your things into one of the single chambers, you’ll be more comfortable there.”

  “Oh, nay, pray ‘tis not necessary.”

  “I insist.”

  “As you will.” Lucy backed away gingerly and stumbled into the gallery railings with a startled cry. Righting herself, she eyed him warily before dipping briefly to him and murmuring, “Good day,” before spinning on her heel and hurrying down the stairs.

  Leaning over the bannisters, Dominic observed as she scurried across the tiled floor and out of the main doors. Rubbing a hand across his chin, he considered the tumultuous look in her eyes as he held her. Was it too much to hope that he finally getting through to her? Fate, at least, was on his side. Whilst he did not wish the reivers on anyone, he could not help but be glad he would have the opportunity to spend more time alone with Lucy. Uttering up a prayer of thanks, he slapped his hand down on the wooden rail with a grin. Aye, the fates had indeed been kind.

  ~* * *~

  Stepping into the solar, Lucy froze as she observed Dominic at his wooden desk, hunched over some papers. Ink stained his fingers and his hair was loose, framing his striking face. Licking her dry lips as her heart slammed against her chest, she withdrew, but a floorboard creaked and his head snapped up.

  “Luce,” he said warmly as his expression softened.

  “Forgive me, I meant not to disturb you. I was looking for a book. Winnie said you had a fine collection.”

  His shoulders dropped as a crooked smile slid across his face. “Oh, aye. Over there.” He pointed to a bookcase in the corner of the room. “I am neglecting my guests, I know, and for that I apologise. Alas, I have spent time enough away from my duties as it is.”

  “Nay, ‘tis no matter. Your guests are content. I just have little ability to sit still for long.”

  “Indeed. Your mother said you were—”

  “An active lass. Aye, you said as much.” Her gaze fastened on to his and her chest constricted. “Well, I’ll just…” Lucy sidled over to the bookcase, darting a wary look back at him. His eyes remained on her as he tapped the end of his quill against his chin and she tensed as a shudder of awareness trailed through her.

  She knew this was a mistake -- to be in such a confined space with him -- but she could not remain in the Great Hall without something to keep her occ
upied. With her parents gone, there was little for her to do, and the other female guests had given up trying to include her, mistaking her shyness for aloofness. She looked around briefly at the sizeable solar with its roaring fire and heavy red curtains. So mayhap it was not that confined, but she could not stop her gaze from falling on the canopied bed that occupied the back of the room. Dominic’s brows darted up, making her fully aware that he recognised where her thoughts were leading. She blushed and spun away, focusing on the books in front of her.

  Running a finger over the leather spines, she studied the titles. Dominic went back to his ledger, the faint sound of his quill scratching against the parchment setting her senses on edge. Some were well worn and she pictured Dominic thumbing through them. How odd that she could never have imagined him as a man that enjoyed scholarly pursuits before, but now the image suited him perfectly. Now she knew him better.

  “Tristan and Iseult…” she murmured. “I did not take you for a romantic soul.”

  “You think it a romance? I think it a tragedy.”

  Lucy stared at him. “A tragedy? Nay, dying for love must surely be the most romantic act of all.”

  “And here I did not think you a romantic soul. But now I know the key to your heart.” Dominic regarded her with a twist of his lips. “I should die to secure it.”

  “My-my heart?”

  “I cannot deny I would wish to secure your body along with it, but I should very much like to capture your heart first.”

  She gulped. Her heart? Could he hear it pounding with his every word? First he wanted her to believe that he lusted after her body -- a stretch of the imagination, aye, but mayhap he really did -- and now he expected her to believe he wanted her heart?

  “You-you are mocking me?”

  He sighed but his grin remained. “Do I look like I am jesting?”

  Grabbing the book, she clutched it to her chest as she studied him, as if the book could offer some form of protection against his bold stare. Indeed, in spite of the twitch of his lips, his eyes remained deadly serious.

  “Think you that I shall fall into your bed when you speak of my heart?”

  Releasing a mocking laugh, Dominic threw down his quill. She jolted back as his chair screeched and he stood abruptly, but he didn’t approach. Instead he came around the desk and perched on it, his arms crossed across his chest.

  “Nay, Lucy, I do not think you so simple as to come to my bed because of a few artless words. Indeed, I would prefer it you came to me without coercion or seduction. I would tear up our contract if I did not fear it would put an end to the scant hold I have over you.”

  She quivered at his words. Why did Dominic having a ‘hold’ over her seem so appealing all of a sudden? Mayhap because she was weak and foolish. After all he had put her through, the self-doubt, the taunts…did they count for nothing?

  Pulling her chin up, she affected a cool look. “I will be bound to no man.”

  “‘Tis a shame, lass, for I am bound to you. The hold you have over me is surely far more than that of a marriage contract.”

  Shaking her head, she drew back toward the door. “I thank you for the book,” she mumbled.

  Leaping forward, Dominic strode over and snatched at her arm before she could escape. She sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers seared through her sleeve.

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “What more can I say? I remain here at my mother’s behest. I know not what your fascination is with me, for you have surely met more beautiful, more accomplished women, so I can only assume that it is the thrill of the chase that drives you. I’d wager many women succumb to your charms readily, but let me assure you Lord Dominic, I am not one of them. I will not marry you. You would do better to forget this ridiculous contract and pursue another.”

  Dominic cast his gaze over her, apparently considering her words. A sharp jolt of disappointment speared through her as he released his grip on her and stepped back.

  Shaking his head, he chuckled unexpectedly. “You speak these words well, my lady, but your eyes betray you. I shall have you as my wife, Lucy Montgomery.”

  ~* * *~

  Observing the flurry of her skirts, Dominic smothered his look of triumph as she darted one last glance towards him before hastening out of the solar. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. God’s blood, that woman would be the death of him.

  But she wanted him. He understood women well enough to know when one wanted him, and Lucy wanted him with a desperation that near matched his own. Any other man would have been discouraged at such words, but not him. What Dominic of Thornewall wanted, he got. And he wanted Lucy.

  Slumping back into his chair, he dipped his quill in the ink and stared at the numbers in front of him. With a curse, he slapped the feather onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. Was she right? Was it merely the thrill of the chase? You spoke of her heart, a little voice whispered. Aye, he had. And everything he had uttered was true. More than anything, he aspired to hold her heart. Was this love? This twisted, agonising, consuming fascination with her. He could not be sure, but whatever it was, it was not something as fickle as some love game. As much as he wanted her in his bed, naked and crying his name, he wanted to get behind those quick eyes and soothe every worry, every fear that she had ever had.

  Dominic pressed his fingers to his temples. So how would he capture his fair maiden’s heart? Usually a few sweet words, a couple of carefully timed caresses, and he would have his prize, but not so with Lucy. He was going to have to raise the stakes.

  ~* * *~

  Lucy deliberately hurried her morning meal as Dominic’s words churned in her mind.

  Her heart.

  He spoke of her heart. What manner of seduction was this? Whatever it was, it was working. She had slept little after their confrontation.

  Throwing back some ale, she crammed a chunk of bread into her mouth, keeping her head down as one of the servants eyed her with wonder. Without finishing her mouthful, she stood and nodded her thanks to the maid before hastening from the hall.

  Glancing around, she walked across the snow-laden courtyard, her hands in her skirts, and ducked into the narrow recess that led to the chapel. She came to a sudden stop as an armoured chest blocked her path and she inhaled sharply, the remaining crumbs of bread sticking in her throat. She coughed and wheezed as Dominic eyed her with amusement before patting her on the back.

  “You make your way to the chapel with great haste, lass. Have you done some terrible wrong that you dare not even finish your meal?”

  She cleared her throat. “Good morrow, Dominic.” Drawing up her shoulders, she shook her head. “Nay, I only wish to offer up my prayers for those less fortunate. And for those who have sinned,” she added archly.

  His lips tilted as he considered this. “Am I to assume you pray for me?”

  “You assume much, my lord. But I pray for all those who have sins upon their soul.”

  He leant forward with a slight smile. “Will you not cast aside your judgements, Luce? You have spent time enough with me these past days to see past the idle gossip of frivolous ladies. I regret my behaviour those many summers ago, you should not have had to endure it, but surely you can see I am not the same arrogant youth?”

  Tilting her head up to meet his gaze, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You are no longer a youth, that much is true, but as for arrogance? I see no change.”

  “Mayhap, you are right. If I see something I want, I get it. Always. You may count that as arrogance, lass, though other women may think it strength of character.”

  “Other women? I am sure they have much to say on your character, though I doubt it to be to do with the strength of it.”

  Dominic edged closer, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. Her throat tightened as his wide torso bore down on her, made all the more intimidating by his heavy hauberk and leather armour.

  “You care a great deal about the ‘other women’. ‘Tis odd when you pr
ofess to care little about my affairs.”

  “I care not what you do. You are a free man and may lie with whomever you choose.”

  His lips slanted into a wry smile. “And yet the mere mention of other women sparks anger in your eyes. I told you before, your eyes give you away. ‘Tis more than indignation that ignites the fire in your eyes, ‘tis jealousy.”

  “Jealousy?” she spluttered. “Why should I be jealous?”

  As he leaned closer, Lucy edged away, gasping with surprise as her back hit the cold stone wall. With nowhere to escape, Dominic moved closer still, bringing his mouth to her ear. His cheek brushed hers and she shuddered as his breath swept over her.

  She supposed she could probably shove him away but her hands would not cooperate and instead clung to the stone, as if the rock could somehow provide her with the strength needed to deny him.

  So easy. It would be so easy just to turn her head and kiss him. It would take only the smallest of movement. His lips grazed her exposed neck, so briefly that she would not have been sure it happened were it not for the scalding imprint his mouth left.

  “You are jealous because you wish to be one of those ladies,” he breathed into her ear.

  She gulped and shook her head but any words of protest died on her lips as his hand came up to the other side of her neck and curled domineeringly around it.

  He kissed her ear. “But ‘twill not happen.” He kissed again as she frowned. “For you would not be just one of those ladies.” His lips sealed around her lobe, nipping briefly at it and extracting a choked cry from her. “You would be the only lady.”

  “Oh…” she moaned as Dominic’s mouth pressed to her jaw. He did not seek her lips but instead let his kisses trail along her cheek to the corner of her mouth.

  Unable to bear it any longer, Lucy jolted towards him and their lips met with the lightest of touches. Her nails dug into the wall behind her and her eyes fluttered closed as a rumble of appreciation emanated from Dominic. An inferno of longing assailed her, but Dominic kissed her lightly as if savouring a delicacy. The back of his free hand danced over her cheek, his fingers caressing carefully, as if she might bolt at any moment. If she only could. She was a prisoner of her desire for him.