His chewing slowed, and he gave her a sidelong glance she couldn’t read.
“How will we get to know one another if we don’t spend time together?” she said.
“We are together now.”
Strangely it wasn’t enough. “Yes, but I would like to hear your perspective of your home and your land and see it through your eyes.”
He lowered his knife to his trencher and shifted so he was studying her face. His blue eyes were keen and searching for the truth.
“Let’s spend all of tomorrow together.” She was surprised by how much she wanted it.
His expression filled with hesitation. Men and women had vastly different spheres in the Middle Ages. And she could almost hear him ask the question: What would they find to do all day together? She wasn’t quite sure either. She was a workaholic and rarely took vacation days. But certainly they could find plenty of activities to fill their time.
“Don’t worry.” She tried for a coy smile. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” As soon as the words were out, she realized how suggestive she sounded and wished she could reel them back in.
He held her gaze, and something hot flared in his eyes that sent a warning down to the tip of her toes. “Very well, lady. But know this: I shall hold you to your promise.”
Her pulse charged forward erratically, and she focused on her trencher lest he see his effect upon her. Had she done the right thing in making this arrangement, or had she made another foolish move?
Inwardly she chastised herself. Stay smart and focused, Marian. She had to make the most of every opportunity to understand the logistics of crossing time and figure out how to save herself and her family.
Her day with Will would be to that end. She would use the time to better understand the past, the people, and the customs—from a scientific perspective. It could be nothing more than that.
~ 18 ~
WILL STEPPED FURTHER into the darkened chamber. The bed curtains were open, revealing Marian’s sleeping form. She was sprawled out, her hair unplaited and spread out in wild abandon.
His gut tightened at the thought of burying his fingers there.
He unlaced his hose and let them drop to the floor, and then he slid his shift over his head, letting it pool on the floor too. After two nights of allowing her to recuperate, he’d tarried long enough. In fact, after sitting next to her all throughout the eve, watching her eat, listening to her talk, glimpsing her smiles—he’d enjoyed her company much more than he’d imagined he would. And he’d been disappointed when his time with her had been cut short.
When two neighboring knights had arrived after dinner, he’d closeted himself in his antechamber with them. They’d relayed news of the unrest that was quickly escalating, bearing reports of looting and destruction and murder. The rebels now traversed the countryside, slaying not only clergy and those in service to God but helpless lawyers, judges, and other officials, and they were burning all records—as if such heinous deeds could bring an end to the unfair taxes.
His fellow knights were worried because some bands had also attacked noble homes, demanding the knights join their cause or face death. They were being led by a man called Wat Tyler, who apparently had vengeance and death at the forefront of his agenda.
The news had been discouraging. If the marauders came to Chesterfield Park, the additional guards he’d posted along the manor walls would hopefully deter an attack, for he had no intention of joining the rebels and supporting their needless destruction and violent murders. He could only pray his recent gesture of goodwill, giving them a public wedding, would suffice to keep them at bay.
His fellow knights had also carried word that some of the neighboring lords and knights were considering combining efforts to squelch the rebellion. Will had known what such an effort would entail—seasoned knights like himself in plate armor charging on warhorses against rebels with inferior weapons. It would be a bloody battle with too many lost lives. He’d decided he would refrain, pray for peace, and rise to warfare as a last resort.
The meeting had lasted long into the night. After his friends had finally spread pallets in the great hall, Will had taken his leave and ascended to his chamber, anticipation mounting with each step.
He wished for moonlight to come in through the open shutters so he could gaze upon his new bride more fully. She’d been stunning earlier, so much so that she’d nearly taken his breath away every time he looked at her.
His wife. This ravishing woman was his wife.
He lowered himself onto the bed and stretched out next to her.
She didn’t move.
He turned to his side so he was facing her and held his breath, waiting for her to rouse and sense his presence beside her.
In the quietness, her breathing was low and even with the rhythm of sleep.
His fingers easily found her hair, and he combed through the silky strands. He brought a fistful to his nose and breathed her in. Just the slight contact was enough to send a burning trail through him.
He slid closer until he felt the exquisite length of her body against his. With his nose buried in her hair, he wrapped an arm around her middle.
She would surely awaken now and would welcome him. He’d not been amiss in sensing her interest in him. She might not have the same deep need he did, but every time he’d touched her, she’d responded with a barely concealed passion that he was eager to unleash.
He pressed a kiss into the back of her head. But even as he waited for her to stir, he was unwilling to disturb her rest. Her back rose and fell steadily against him. He didn’t have to look to guess she still retained her bruises.
He gentled his hold, and the same peace he’d experienced during his visions stole back through his chest—rare peace, one that gave him respite from the nightmares that haunted him.
Closing his eyes, he expelled a long breath, releasing for just a moment the self-loathing that was his constant companion. He didn’t understand why or how this beautiful woman could soothe him in a way naught else could. But he wouldn’t fight it.
Within seconds, his own breathing steadied to match hers. With his arms around her and his face pressed into her hair, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
Marian awoke to the strange feeling she was hovering between two worlds. She tried to reach out and grasp Ellen. She could sense her sister’s presence even if she couldn’t hear anything. But the solid pressure against her back and warm breath against her neck jolted her out of her sleep.
Her eyes flew open to see the light of dawn streaming in through open shutters. The room was cloaked in shadows and the house quiet. She still wasn’t used to such utter silence, waking without the hum of an air conditioner or the beep of an alarm clock.
She started to stretch then froze. She wasn’t alone. A large muscular body curled against her, an arm slung haphazardly across her waist. She didn’t need to look to know Will had joined her in bed.
Embarrassment crashed through her, quickly followed by indignation. How dare Will do so without her permission? They hardly knew each other. How could he even think about sleeping with her?
She supposed during medieval times, coupling was seen as more practical than romantic. Even so, she hadn’t expected him to jump into bed with her so readily. Apparently his suggestions to the peasants about bedding her had been more serious than she’d realized.