As usual, Richmond was at the head of it, using his skill and strength to work the ball down the field towards the enemy’s goal-line. He and Daniel made an effective team, passing the ball between them and keeping their opponents confused. Arissa and Penelope watched, pride shining on their young faces, as their respective men displayed their power.
“Daniel loves this game,” Penelope sighed dreamily. “He’s entirely skilled, don’t you think?”
“Just a moment ago you did not want him to play,” Arissa reminded her, her gaze riveted to the field.
Penelope shrugged. “I do not. But he’s rather good at it.”
Regine, finished with her food and wiping her hands on her satin surcoat, moved to sit on her sister’s lap. Arissa grunted when her baby sister, outweighing her by twenty pounds, deposited herself on a tender thigh. Beneath them, the leather and wood chair creaked dangerously.
In spite of the groan, Arissa did not utter a word of protest; Regine had sought comfort on her lap for as long as either could remember, a display of the true fondness between them. Soon enough, she and Regine would be without each other and Arissa swallowed the emotion she felt as she wrapped her arms about Regine’s thick waist. Soon enough, these affectionate moments would be no more.
Unfortunately, Regine’s body blocked a good portion of her view and she strained to peer around her sister as the game progressed.
Richmond was the first man to gain a score, much to the delight of the crowd. Even the Lambourn soldiers on the battlements roared their approval and Arissa smiled, watching Richmond’s modest grin as his teammates congratulated him. She was so focused on him that she failed to see Tad’s malevolent expression, waiting impatiently in the middle of the field for the game to resume.
One score to add fuel to his already-raging fire. Tad’s mood served to deepen his sense of retaliation against a man who seemed intent to make an example out of him. Whereas Richmond was playing a game, the heir to Goring Hall viewed Richmond’s score as a personal insult.
When the match commenced once more, it did so with a vengeance. Richmond and Bartholomew took charge of the ball again, stealing it from a de Becket soldier and rushing it nearly the entire length of the field before an opposing player managed to snatch it from Richmond and carry it in the opposite direction.
Like a group of naughty boys, the grown men gave chase until the soldier was unceremoniously tripped, by Daniel no less, and sent to the ground. In a mad swarm, a host of men descended upon the hapless player and nearly crushed him in their haste to regain the ball.
The first team to gain five points was the winner; therefore, there were no time limits. As the afternoon progressed and the lively game continued, Lambourn’s team managed to gain three points and was close to gaining their fourth thanks to Richmond’s deft skills. At times the game bordered on a melee, but it was a good-natured violence if such a thing was possible. The crowd yelled themselves hoarse all in the name of merriment.
And The Horde was no exception. As Emma and Penelope cheered themselves ill, Arissa realized her legs were growing numb with her sister’s weight and she was seriously considering asking her sister to remove her person. She took her eyes off the field long enough to shift her deadening bottom on the stool when she suddenly heard her friends gasp.
“Richmond’s been hurt!” Penelope cried.
Arissa stood up so fast that Regine fell to her knees. In a panic, she saw that the game had come to a halt and the two teams were huddled in a tight crowd in one corner of the field. The officials and the earl himself were making their way onto the turf.
“Dear God,” Arissa breathed. “How…. how do you know it was Richmond?”
“He was running with the ball when a group of men pounced on him,” Emma said urgently. “He’s the only man who has not risen to stand.”
Arissa did not wait. She pushed through the crowd of spectators hovering at the edge of the field and made her way onto the trampled grass. The entire game had come to a halt and an uneasy silence settled as she picked her way across the partially-destroyed earth. She could see her father’s concerned expression as he gazed down at the injured player and it fed her panic all the more.
“Father!” she called out. “What’s happened?”
William saw her approaching and abruptly moved toward her. “Richmond’s been injured, Riss. Nothing to worry over.”
She could feel the color draining from her cheeks. “Nothing to worry over? I must see him!”
“There is nothing to see. His men will take care of him,” he grasped her by the shoulders and turned her about. “Return to your friends, dearest. The game will be resumed in a moment.”
“No!” she dug her heels into the soft earth, twisting away from him. “I want to see Richmond!”
William sighed heavily, his meaty hands on his hips. “Arissa, he does not need your bothersome presence. You shall only interfere. Now be a good lass and do as I say. Return to Penelope and Emma.”
Bothersome. Arissa’s eyes filled with tears and she obediently turned away from her father, a man with little patience and even less understanding. Although he never meant to be deliberately cruel, he conveyed a callous attitude nonetheless. Sniffles turned into soft sobs as she walked away and, somewhere above the noise of the crowd, she thought she heard Richmond’s voice.
She couldn’t make out his words, but it was a distinct relief simply to hear him speak. At least he was not unconscious, or worse. William’s insensitive command echoed in her ears and she fought the urge to go to Richmond in spite of her father’s orders, knowing that he was most likely correct in his assessment of her presence. Still weeping, she continued on her way until a loud shout stopped her.
It was Richmond.
He was on his feet, parting the group of men that were surrounding him. His nose was bloodied and there was a nasty cut over his left eye, and he appeared to be leaning heavily on Daniel for support. He looked weary and beaten.
Her father’s words forgotten, Arissa turned on her heel and closed the gap between them.
“Are you badly injured?” she demanded softly, her misty eyes wide with concern.
He smiled weakly, touching her cheek. “Nay, kitten. I just need a bit of a rest, ’tis all.”
In spite of the fact that she couldn’t hope to support a man of his size, she slung his other arm across her small shoulders and put her arm around his waist, determined to help him walk.
“I shall tend you myself,” she said firmly. “It looks as if you may require a stitch over your eye.”
William moved beside them, scrutinizing Richmond closely. “I saw what happened, Richmond. I have already lodged a stern protest with the officials.”
Richmond waved him off, his ears ringing and his head spinning. “’Tis merely a game, William. No need for protests.”
“What happened?” Arissa demanded, looking to her father.
William’s face was hard. “Tad de Rydal. He hit Richmond across the face with his stick.”
Arissa’s mouth opened in outrage as Richmond nodded his head gingerly. “Right on the mark, too. I shall wager he’s broken my nose.”
Arissa’s eyes were wide at Richmond as she studied his beautiful face, now swollen with injury. She turned to her father. “You must dismiss him from Lambourn this instant, Father. Surely you cannot allow him to remain after what he’s done.”
William nodded sharply. “Certainly not. He’s all but ruined your birthday and I shall not have it. I shall not have it, I say!”
He turned abruptly on his heel and marched back across the turf, shouting at the officials and players alike. Satisfied that Tad was already on his way home, Arissa patted Richmond tenderly.
“I shall take good care of you,” she whispered.
He gazed down at her dark head, his eyes watering with the pain in his nose. “I know.”
*
The Stick and Ball game was all but forgotten as Arissa and Daniel took Richmond into the castle
. Although his head was clearing somewhat, he had trouble navigating the stairs and teetered dangerously more than once. Daniel had to practically carry him to the bower he usually occupied on his visits to Lambourn.
Penelope and Emma had followed them from the field and stood hovering nervously as Arissa and Daniel settled Richmond in the massive bed. They were eager to help Arissa tend Richmond’s wounds when Mossy suddenly entered the chamber, a dilapidated bag clutched in his ancient hands.
“Out!” he waved at the cluster of people. “All of ye, out! I cannot tend the man with the gaggle of ye hanging about.”
Emma and Penelope leapt out of the old man’s path, moving obediently towards the door. Daniel was shoved aside as Mossy dumped his bag on the edge of the bedrug. He peered closely at Richmond’s face.
“Heard what happened,” he muttered. “De Rydal vengeance for beating him in the archery competition, eh?”
Richmond did not flinch as the old man touched his swelling nose. “Among other insults dealt. And just how did you find out about my injury so quickly? Did your bubbling cauldron whisper my name?”
Mossy cocked a sparse eyebrow at the implication. “A panicked soldier with eyes as wide as saucers came bursting into my sanctuary. I thought he had come bearing a message of import until I discovered he only carried news of you.”
“Your concern is overwhelming.”
Mossy grunted and opened his bag. Immediately, a small rabbit burst forth and skittered across the floor, disappearing under the wardrobe. Penelope and Emma barely had time to shriek, but Mossy hardly registered a reaction.
“Damn rabbits. They like to nest in my bag,” he rummaged through the faded brown satchel. Drawing forth an envelope, he sprinkled a bit of white powder into a pewter cup. “Put some wine in it,” he instructed Arissa, who moved quickly to do his bidding. Returning with the full cup, Mossy thrust it at Richmond. “Drink this.”
Richmond eyed the contents. “What did you put in it?”
“Poppy. It will ease the ache.”
Richmond shook his head slowly. “I cannot. It will put me to sleep for days.”
Mossy raised his eyebrows. “So ye’d rather suffer?”
“Do you question my fortitude?”
Mossy snorted and set the cup aside. “’Tis not yer fortitude I would question, but yer sanity.” From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Penelope, Emma and Daniel, still grouped by the open door. He frowned severely. “I told ye to get out. Are ye daft?”
Emma quickly slipped from the room as Penelope grasped Daniel’s arm in an attempt to encourage him to obey Mossy’s command. But the young knight was reluctant to comply.
“Do you require me any longer, Richmond?”
Richmond shook his head, watching Mossy rummage through his bag once more. “Nay, Daniel, I believe I am in good hands.”
Daniel passed a glance at the ancient man, as old as the sky and then some. A faint gleam came to his eye as he observed the crusty old crone. “Mossy, I have always been curious. How did you acquire your name?”
Mossy drew forth a few items. “Ye ask me that now? Daniel Ellsrod, ye’ve been at Lambourn for two years come January.”
Daniel grinned, ignoring Penelope’s silent urging. “I have never had an interest until now.”
“Ye selected a peculiar moment to ask.”
“Answer me and I shall go. Why are you called Mossy?”
Richmond looked to the young knight. “Because he’s so old that moss grows on his limbs. And he cannot stand in one spot for too long else his feet with take root.”
Daniel’s eyes widened and he sputtered a loud guffaw. “Is that so?”
Mossy examined a length of silk thread. “It is. Do ye need to see the proof?”
Daniel shook his head and, still snorting, followed Penelope into the corridor. He had no sooner moved into the hall when a soldier suddenly appeared in his place, his face flushed with excitement.
“Mossy, Lord William demands you come. Bartholomew has been injured.”
Mossy looked up from his thread sharply. “Injured? What happened?”
The soldier swallowed, his flush deepening as he glanced at Arissa. “He… he’s been hit… that is to say, he’s in a good deal of pain.”
“Ye did not answer my question. How badly is he injured?”
The soldiers swallowed hard, a ripple of fright creasing his features when Richmond focused his hard gaze on him. Weighing the options, he found he was willing to risk great embarrassment in lieu of Richmond le Bec’s anger.
“He took a stick to the groin,” he mumbled. “Lord William demands you tend him, as he’s heir to the earldom. He fears for the continuation of the family line.”
Mossy stared at the soldier for a moment as if to disbelieve what he had been told. Sighing, he set the thread to a nearby table and extracted several other items from his bag, including a delicate embroidery needle and a wad of linen.
“Riss, ye’ll have to sew Richmond’s cut,” he collected his bag, forgetting about the errant rabbit. “I have got to tend yer foolish brother to guarantee him a son.”
Arissa watched him scuffle from the room, moving to close the door behind him. The awareness of suddenly being alone with Richmond was almost more than she could bear and a faint mottle crept into her cheeks as she returned to the table by his bedside.
With a quivering hand, she poured water from a pewter pitcher into a small bowl Mossy had left. “I…. I do hope Bart is all right.”
A massive hand suddenly shot out, snatching her by the wrist. Arissa barely had time to set the pitcher to the table when she was suddenly pulled onto the bed beside him. With her next breath, she found herself gazing into eyes of bright blue.
“Forget about Bart. You should only be concerned with me.”
A timid smile creased her lips. “I am only concerned with you, as I have always been. Am I not preparing to tend your wound?”
A dark eyebrow raised. His face was looming closer. “I was not speaking of wounds, Riss.”
His mouth was on her before she could draw another breath. Arissa forgot everything at that moment; his injury, her brother, the world in general. When his warm, tender lips touched hers, all of the love and emotion she had ever felt for him melded into one glorious burst and she was vaguely aware of her hands in his hair, holding him tightly.
Richmond clutched her tightly to his chest, feeling her warmth and softness against him. When they had embraced earlier he had been wearing armor, and the sensations of her supple body provoked against his thinly-clad flesh were consuming. The little girl he had known and protected had blossomed into a woman of unbelievable magnificence and he was still having difficulty coming to grips with the turn their relationship was taking.
He had ceased to think of Arissa as his charge long ago. Aye, there was still a fierce protective instinct towards her, greater than any instinct he possessed, but the emotions he had developed for her overshadowed all else. She was a woman, and he was a man. And he loved her.
He drew her down on the bed next to him, looming over her with his great body and half-burying her into the mattress. Arissa gripped him tightly, whimpering softly as his lips devoured her. His hands moved from her hair, down her neck, trailing the length of her arms. Then, as one hand wrapped itself about her narrow waist, the other moved to her wonderful breasts.
She startled when his warm fingers moved over the crest of her nipples, gasping when he toyed with a tender bud. He laughed low in his throat at her reaction, but he did not halt his onslaught. Instead, he snaked his hand behind her back and deftly undid several stays.
Arissa was barely cognizant when he slid her new surcoat off her shoulders, kissing every exposed inch of white flesh. She was a quivering shell of awakening desire, experiencing every brush of his lips as if it were a gift from God. His body had shifted and she was nearly smothered by his great form, feeling his heat as if nothing else on earth existed.
His tender touch trailed
to the rounded swell of her breasts as the surcoat slowly moved downward, barely covering the delightfully puckered buds. Richmond’s breathing came in heavy gasps as he gently peeled the material away from rosy crests, letting out a sigh of awe as his gaze beheld succulent nipples. He couldn’t wait to taste them.
Arissa felt Richmond’s tongue drag over the tender morsels and she cried out softly, a bolt of awesome power firing through her petite body. She’d barely recovered from the shock when his hot, wet mouth suddenly descended on her hungrily, like a starving child. From surprise to ecstasy in a split second, her moans of pleasure filled the room.
It had been far too long since Richmond had tasted female flesh, and the fact that he was in possession of Arissa’s sweet body nearly devoured his control. His heavy manhood was painfully engorged, but he ignored it. As much as he might desire the action, he would not take her virginity just as they were coming to discover one another. His own discomfort was insignificant in parallel to the importance of Arissa’s emotions.
He would not destroy a lifetime of tender feelings by attacking her like a madman. Arissa was as pure as rain, untouched by any man until this day, and he considered it a right and a privilege to be able to introduce her to the world of passion. But with every touch, every kiss, she was responding to him with unimagined abandonment and his hands were literally quaking with self-employed restraint. Slowly, he told himself firmly. Slowly.
Her breasts gave him more joy than he ever thought possible. To lose himself within the silken flesh, scented of gardenias, was beyond heaven. It was far more than he had ever dreamed possible and the more he tasted, the more he craved. More and more, he was dangerously close to spiraling into erotic oblivion.
He took a puckered nipple between his teeth and drew it out slowly, listening to Arissa pant. As if they were living, thinking entities, his hands moved down her slim waist to her legs, drawing up her surcoat with the intention of seeking the hidden flesh. Richmond was concentrating so deliberately on her breasts that he hadn’t realized his hands were stroking her shapely thighs, moving to grasp her behind the knees in order to part the way for his throbbing manhood.