me to help you, Lady Onora.” The man plucked the apple blossom from her fingers and tucked it behind her ear, using the stem to secure a bit of her hair along with it.
He touched her so quickly that she scarcely had time to protest. Her pulse pounded in her veins, warming her skin all over. Even now, he moved to steady himself on the top of the wall, lying on his belly so that he might guide her down the sheer face of the enclosure.
“Nay.” Shaking her head, she refused his help. “I will depart on my own, but it will be the last time you chase me away from my own sister. Whether or not my father approves of my visits, he shall hear of your presence if I see you on the premises again.”
“That would only aid my true purpose, and for that I would thank you.” He kept his eyes upon her as she made her way carefully down the wall, her toes seeking chinks in the rock more slowly than his had done. “Be sure to mention I tried to keep your pretty neck intact.”
She flushed even warmer, confused by the strange encounter. Shoving the thought from her mind, Onora leaped to the ground.
“I will not give any credit to you for saving a neck that was never in danger.” She turned on her heel and wondered how she could mention the strange meeting to her father. She was curious now, and wanted to know about this mysterious groom even more than she wanted to know about Sorcha’s new Norman.
But she could not risk her father’s wrath in admitting this visit since that might encourage Tiernan Con Connacht to rid himself of his eldest daughter all the sooner. Onora had only come to tell Sorcha her time avoiding the convent was almost over. Their father made plans to send Sorcha away before harvesttime.
And Onora would not lose her sister to the nunnery without saying goodbye.
“I think you’d better take your leave.” Anger poured through Sorcha. Did Hugh think her so daft that she would believe such idle flattery?
“Have I offended you by declaring a fascination with you?” He remained seated, a fact she appreciated since his physical size would intimidate her even with a whole slew of her father’s knights to protect her.
And, truth be told, his imposing presence made her acutely aware of her femininity. Her petite stature and slender limbs. The sexual element of that contrast was never far from her mind and she could not understand why. How many times had she regretted her passionate decisions? She could not afford any more. Especially not with a man who bore a strange resemblance to Edward.
“Nay. You offend me by not speaking the truth.” She knew he had come to Connacht for reasons he did not reveal. Anyone looking upon his fine, strapping form and the sharp intelligence in his eyes would see a knight in his prime. A knight accustomed to command. He must have a reason for being here besides courting an exiled princess far from his homeland.
“Do I not?” He shot to his feet and a few quick strides carried him close enough for her to touch. “I would be more than happy to prove my…interest.”
She bit her lip, unsure how to respond. Unsure what exactly he had just offered.
“That will not be necessary.” Her voice failed her, emerging from her lips in a cracked sound.
Her first lover might have only visited her bed a handful of times before fate and an enemy’s sword had felled him, but their time together had taught her the way of things between a man and woman. And even if the coupling had not fulfilled her every last romantic dream, it had taught her much about the way a man could turn a woman’s steely will to molten want. Edward hadn’t provided her with that elusive pinnacle of pleasure, but his embrace had taught her she was as passionate in bed as she’d always been outside of it.
She would do well to rein in that fire now before she allowed it to dictate the course of her life again. Except Hugh’s sinewy form emanated a heat that warmed her, while the spicy male scent of him tempted her to lean closer and take a deeper sniff.
“You’ve no right to call me a liar, lady, lest you are willing to let me prove I speak the truth.” His amber eyes locked on hers, the whiskey-golden gaze seeming to see past her defenses to the woman beneath.
A foolish notion, and yet those eyes undid her.
She swayed on her feet, perilously close to him. Who knows what folly she might have fallen into if the rustle of birds in a nearby tree hadn’t distracted her. Straightening, she shook off the spell he seemed to have cast upon her and took a step back.
“I owe you naught, sir. I risk much by even allowing you within the walls of my home.” She had no guards to protect her here, just a wet nurse for her son and a groom who helped keep the horse fed and exercised.
“Then you have all the more reason to trust my ability to restrain myself with you.” He reached toward her and for one heart-stopping moment she though he meant to touch her, but instead he merely scruffed the head of the sleeping cat within her arms. “If my intentions had been less than honorable, I could have easily exercised my will here in the privacy of your gardens. Will you not trust me to escort you to the village fair on the morrow where we will be in full view of many watchful eyes?”
Her gaze dipped to his broad hand gently stroking the kitten’s fur, his fingers a hairsbreadth from her breast as he did so. Her breasts ached in warm response and she was grateful the tiny beast and her folded arms hid her body’s reaction.
“Think about it, Sorcha,” he prodded, lifting his hand to tip her chin, forcing her to meet his clear-eyed gaze. “When was the last time you enjoyed the taste of freshly baked meat pies and the scents of a spice trader’s cart? I hear there are minstrels from Scotland who are known to perform long into the night.”
He dropped his hand, but her skin retained the memory of his touch.
“You do not play fair, sir,” she complained, already smelling the smoke of a bonfire heaped with fragrant dried wood. “It has been many moons since I attended a feast day, let alone a full-fledged fair.”
“In truth, I cannot remember the last time I had the pleasure of such entertainment myself.” His grin beguiled her, calling her to forget her worries and join him in whatever mischief he had planned for the morrow. “We will make a merry pair.”
“Too merry, I think. The whole village will think we are courting.” She snuggled the kitten closer to her face, rubbing the fur along her cheek, but not even the animal’s warmth could replace the memory of Hugh’s gentle fingers. “And while I am pressured to wed, you must know there will be equal expectations heaped upon you.”
She worried her lower lip as she replaced Conn’s kitten on the ground. She should have already refused Hugh’s offer. Joining him at the fair day would only complicate matters. Yet what if his presence soothed her father’s haste to send her to the convent and bought her more time with her son before she had to give him up forever?
“Not even an Irish king could force a marriage upon me that I did not wish.” He narrowed his gaze for a moment and she shivered to think what kind of enemy Hugh Fitz Henry would make. “I vow no amount of pressure would sway me.”
She had spent every day since discovering her “husband” had played her false telling herself to trust no man. And still the fiery truth in Hugh’s eyes swayed her as much as her longing to dance a merry round while the minstrels played and the bonfires yawned flames into the night.
“Aye.” She could not resist the opportunity to break free of her exile. The chance to make a happy memory before she was confined to a life of toil and prayer. “I will attend the fair day at your side.”
“Excellent.” His smile brought forth an answering grin from her lips and she thought for a moment she might actually have fun with this mysterious Norman who chided himself for peering at her thighs and devoured her sweet bread like a starving man. “I will call for you at noon.”
She would have to leave Conn in the care of his nurse, but by the saints, she would venture out of her narrow domain