Come Back to Me by Jody Hedlund
~ 18 ~
WILLSTEPPEDFURTHER 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.
She expelled a tense sigh. But of course he was serious. He didn’t know she was planning to leave, that their marriage was fleeting. He was only doing what any husband during his time would—going to bed with his wife. In fact, he’d probably been more patient than other men might have been in the same situation. He’d given her time to rest and recover before taking his rightful place in his bed.
Whatever the case, she had to figure out a way to stop things from progressing any further. It was not only awkward, much too soon, and inappropriate, since theirs was a temporary relationship, but it was also dangerous. Without birth control, she had no idea what the ramifications would be if she happened to get pregnant during the time crossing.
She tried not to squirm but was anxious to put some space between them. She lifted his arm just slightly, so she could escape from his hold. But the moment she touched him, his breathing against her neck changed, and she knew he was awake.
For a long moment, she didn’t breathe, and he didn’t move. Finally, he bent in to her neck and pressed his lips there. The touch was so tender that it filled her with a strange, unquenchable longing for more.
She bit her lip. She had to move away. Now. And the only way she would be able to keep him at bay was by being honest with him. At least as honest as she could be under the circumstances.
“Will?” She shifted under his arms so she could see his face in the amber morning light.
“Hmmm?” he mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed, his fingers skimming up her arm, already sending delicious shivers over her skin.
“Will, wait.” She scooted away. “We can’t, well—you know.”
At her declaration, his eyes opened and found hers. His were murky with sleep and desire. He didn’t need to respond for her to know his answer. She would have to do a better job explaining herself, or he’d pull her back against him with no thought of sleep.
Her mind raced to find an excuse. She was only in the past momentarily. She’d be leaving by the end of the week. She didn’t consider herself really married to him—at least permanently. “We have to wait . . .”
Her words faded away as his fingers trailed higher to her neck and then to her cheek where he brushed her hair back. His fingers were soft and gentle and altogether too enticing.
He would think she was crazy if she revealed that she’d crossed back in time. She couldn’t do it, not yet, not here, maybe not ever. But she had to think of some way to plausibly explain why she couldn’t share intimacies with him. “You see, where I come from, men and women spend time getting to know each other. They talk a lot and build a friendship—and they court—before becoming more intimate.”
His fingers moved through her hair again, to her neck where his thumb caressed her pulse. It was thumping fast. “We are wed. We need no other reason.” His low, thick tone was nearly her undoing.
“But what of love?” She forced the words quickly. “Shouldn’t love exist between a man and woman before they share themselves?”
He reached for her, this time more forcefully, and brought her against him. “The day we wed, I promised to love you.” His whisper was warm against her forehead. “And I never break my promises.”
He kissed her, moving from her forehead to her temple. She closed her eyes to fight against the pleasure of his touch. It would be all too easy to give in to this man. He was as noble and good and tender as he was fierce and rugged and tough. What would it hurt to allow herself this stolen moment of loving? She was technically married to him.
But as his kiss moved to her ear, and his hands slid down the length of her arm to her hip, a warning rang loud and long in her head. Before he could stop her, she rolled out of his grasp and jumped out of bed. “Please, Will.” She stood at the edge, her chest rising and falling in rapid bursts.
His brows furrowed, in anger or frustration, she couldn’t tell. Then he propped himself up on his elbow and looked up at her. His middle was tangled in the coverlet, but his chest and legs were bare, making her suddenly realize he was naked except for his linen drawers.
“I need time to get to know you better.” She scrambled for coherent words. “Could I have one week?” She’d be long gone in a week. At least she hoped so.
“A sennight?” His voice was incredulous, almost angry. “I have already given you three nights.”
There was a part of her that couldn’t believe she was actually having this exchange, this bargaining over sleeping with a man she’d rashly married. It was likely the strangest conversation she’d ever had. But she had to try to maintain boundaries. Not only for herself but for him for after she left.
“Seven days.” She squared her shoulders, trying to muster her inner reserves. “We can spend the time getting to know each other and becoming friends.”
He didn’t say anything, and for long seconds she didn’t dare look at him. Finally, she chanced a peek. He was lying on his back, his arms crossed behind his head, and he was studying her. Thankfully, his anger seemed to have dissipated. More than anything, he seemed puzzled, almost curious.
She was close to convincing him and couldn’t give up yet. “I have heard that relationships based upon friendship are stronger and more fulfilling.” At least that’s what she’d seen between her mom and dad. They’d shared everything—talked ceaselessly, made time for fun, and laughed often. She supposed that’s why her dad hadn’t handled Mom’s death well. He’d lost not only his wife but also his best friend.
The muscles in Will’s biceps bulged and his long, bare legs stretched out, crossed casually at his ankles. He was beautiful. Every single inch of him. She swallowed hard and stared down at her own bare feet.
“Three more days.”
Her gaze shot up to find that he wore an amused look. “That’s hardly long enough—”
“My days here in Kent are short.”
She mentally calculated the time. She had five days left to find holy water and get it to the crypt. Five days before Ellen and Harrison would go back to the cathedral once again. Five days before she could return to the present.
“How about five days?” She prayed that would indeed be enough time.
“Very well. Five, unless I woo you first.” His voice hinted at a challenge that sent a flutter of warmth into her belly.
As if the matter was settled, Will flipped the coverlet off his body and stood, heedless of the fact she was standing there and that every rippling part of his body was exposed to her.
With a rapid intake of breath, she pivoted so that her back was facing him. She listened to the slide of linen against flesh, and only when his footsteps started across the room did she turn.
Fully clad, he was nearly at the door and seemed intent on leaving.
“Remember”—she wanted to hold on to him but knew she shouldn’t—“you promised to spend the day with me.”
Gripping the door, he paused. “I shall send for you.”
“Where are you going now?” The question came out breathy and too eager.
“I visit the chapel every morn.” He spoke quietly without meeting her gaze, as though he was embarrassed by this acknowledgment.
“I’d like to go too.” Once the words were out, she realized how true they were, not just so she could be with him but because something tugged at her heart, a need for peace and help that went beyond herself, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time.
Will lifted his head, surprise widening his eyes, revealing his deep haunted wounds. She had the feeling he was about to say no, that this was one place he went by himself.
“Please?”
Opening the door a crack, he hesitated. After a moment more, he reached for a cloak hanging from a peg on the back of the door and held it out to her. “Don this first.”
She smiled, crossed to him, and took it willingly.
He swung the door wide and waved her through. Once they were in the dark hallway lit by a single smoking sconce, he started ahead of her. Before he could move beyond her reach, she slipped her hand into his.
At her touch, his steps faltered. He glanced down at her hand, and for a second she wondered if she’d been too bold.
But then his fingers closed around hers more firmly, and she shoved aside the warning that she was allowing herself to become too invested. Surely becoming friends with this man wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?