Nessa’s Seduction by Jayne Castel

11

HARDEN YER HEART

HUGH GRIPPED NESSA’S hips as he plunged into her from behind. Head hung low, her rounded bottom thrust up to meet him, she was an arresting sight. Her red-gold hair was mussed, spilling in heavy waves over the pillow. Letting go of her hips with one hand, he stroked the milky curve of one buttock before his hand splayed across the small of her back.

And then he undulated his hips as he thrust deep into her once again.

“H-u-g-h!”

God’s teeth, he liked how she groaned his name. He liked how throaty her voice went when she gasped out words during coupling. He liked how she let herself go with him, how lusty she was.

He liked a great many things about Nessa: her spirit, her boldness, and her irreverence. He even liked it when she was angry with him—as she had been earlier that evening. No woman had ever stood up to him like that. But best of all, Hugh liked how it felt to be buried deep inside Nessa, for when he was, the rest of the world disappeared.

He gripped her then, fiercer than he usually did, and thrust into her hard.

Nessa gave a low groan, bucking against him. He felt her tremble, felt the walls of her womb tighten around his shaft. Heedless, he drove into her again.

Nessa shattered. Her cry echoed through the dwelling, trembling now wracking her body.

Gripping her hips, so that she wouldn’t collapse, Hugh thrust once more. His eyes flickered shut, his head falling back as he let his own release barrel into him.

Afterward they lay together, sweaty limbs tangled, listening to the wind howl against the shutters. He wondered if more snow would fall during the night, and when the first signs of spring would start to show.

Hugh’s breathing slowed. When they did, he would have to bid his Scottish temptress goodbye.

“What is it?” Nessa murmured, snuggling against his chest.

It pleased him that she did that after they’d lain together. She often lay her ear against his ribs as if she were listening to his heartbeat. He liked the feel of her cheek against his skin, how her soft, rosemary-scented hair tickled his nose. His wife, Anne, had never curled against him like a kitten. None of his lovers had.

“Nothing,” he whispered back.

She lifted her head, her green eyes meeting his. The hearth, a few feet away, still burned bright, casting a golden light over the interior of Nessa’s cottage. “Liar.”

He snorted, holding her gaze. “How I shall miss your sharp Scottish tongue.”

She gave a soft laugh. “I doubt that.” She paused then, her eyes shadowing. “We have only a moon’s turning before ye leave … it will pass before we know it.”

He reached up, his hand cupping her cheek. “Aye, nothing ever lasts, especially the good things.”

It was true. Edward’s campaigning in Scotland sometimes seemed interminable, yet a night in this woman’s arms was over in an instant.

It wasn’t fair—yet few things in life were.

Nessa stared into her lover’s eyes, her mind racing.

Four weeks. March the twenty-eighth, to be exact.

She had the army’s date of departure—now she needed to know where they were heading.

As the moments drew out, she considered questioning Hugh again—to ask him where the army would go. However, after their conversation at the alehouse, she decided against it. The time to go softly, to coax the knight to give up his secrets willingly, had passed. As she’d decided before meeting him for supper this eve, she’d have to use witching to get him to give up the rest.

Nessa needed answers, and she needed them tonight.

She stretched against Hugh, enjoying the feel of his strong body against hers. He’d been passionate this eve, had taken her with an urgency that had left her shaking and breathless. She’d miss the warmth of him in her bed, the feel of him buried deep inside her.

Longing spiked through her then, causing her chest to tighten. It wasn’t just the coupling she’d miss though. Her cottage had felt empty and cold at night before Hugh de Burgh started spending his nights here. These days she barely noticed the chill. His company had filled a void she hadn’t even known existed.

Nessa drew in a steadying breath. Don’t let yerself get distracted. Ye have a task to complete tonight.

“My throat is dry,” she murmured. “I’m going to pour myself a cup of wine. Would ye like one?”

“Very well,” he replied, his mouth curving. “Thank you.”

Relieved that she hadn’t needed to convince him, Nessa rose to her feet, wrapped a blanket around her nakedness, and padded over to the table under the window.

The wind rattled the shutters, and damp tonight drilled into her bones. Ensuring that her body blocked her movements from view, she reached for a bottle of bramble wine and poured it into two cups.

And then she took three pinches of powder from a small pot and dropped it into Hugh’s cup before stirring it with her finger. It was a truth-telling powder made from sweet pea she’d collected in the summer and a mixture of bitter herbs. She’d also blended in valerian so that he’d fall into a deep slumber after giving her what she needed to know.

Nessa picked up the cups. Tonight was the end of February’s waning crescent moon—the last phase of the Storm Moon before the Chaste Moon would rise. A waning crescent signified surrender. There was no better night to loosen Hugh de Burgh’s tongue.

And it had to be tonight. If she waited until the next full moon, it would be too late, for the English army would be on the move.

However, despite that Nessa’s mind was already made up, her throat constricted as she carried the cups of wine back to bed. She really hadn’t wanted to take this route with him, but the man was as stubborn as a mule. There was a reason why he was the English king’s most trusted commander.

It didn’t matter how much he lusted after her, for the passion between them seemed to burn more intense with each passing day, he would never lose his wits and blurt out his king’s plans. He’d have to be coerced into doing so.

Nessa handed Hugh his cup and cradled her own as she sat cross-legged on the bed, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

They drank a few sips in silence before Hugh wrinkled his nose. “This wine tastes strange … a bit bitter.”

Nessa’s belly flipped, although she took great care to keep her expression serene. She’d been sure he wouldn’t taste the difference. “Ye are right,” she murmured before taking another sip and feigning a grimace. “It’s a new bottle … perhaps it’s starting to sour.”

He shook his head, raising the cup to his lips once more and taking another gulp. “It doesn’t taste ‘off’.”

“Well … Scottish wine is rougher than what ye are used to,” she replied, fighting to keep her tone unruffled.

He huffed a soft laugh. “You’re probably right.” He lowered his cup. “Nothing tastes quite right today. I will miss you, Nessa.”

Nessa’s gaze widened. The Crone spit in her eye, the working was a swift one.

Hugh wasn’t a man to utter such things.

Nessa favored him with a tight smile, even as her pulse started to race. This wasn’t the kind of admission she wanted out of him. “We’ll just have to make the most of the time we have left,” she replied, her tone gentle.

He nodded, his eyelids flickering.

Alarm coiled within Nessa. Maiden’s blood, she hoped she hadn’t added too much sedative to the wine. She needed him to reveal The Hammer’s plans first.

“I don’t know what’s come … over me,” he murmured. “I’m exhausted.”

His eyelids drooped once more, and Nessa gently took his cup from him and set both their wines aside. “It’s late,” she murmured, stretching out next to him. “Let us sleep.”

Nessa nestled her head against his chest, even if her belly was now tied in knots. She knew she had to work fast. “Where is Edward taking ye, Hugh?” she asked him then, her voice low and urgent. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure he could hear it.

“Stirling,” he mumbled. “For whoever holds Stirling … holds Scotland.”

Nessa’s breathing hitched. Finally.

His news surprised her. More rumors had been circulating Dunfermline that Edward was planning to push north—to take Inverness and gain control of the Highlands. However, they were just whispers from locals, and it was just as well that Nessa had waited before taking word to her order.

The English had gained and lost Stirling a few times now. It seemed that Edward was determined to seize the castle once more.

“Lovely Nessa,” Hugh murmured reaching up and brushing her face with his hand. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Nessa went still, forcing herself not to tense. Instead, she favored him with a smile, waiting until his eyelids fluttered shut. And even then, she didn’t move, hardly daring to breathe.

Moments later, she felt his body relax, heard his breathing lengthen and deepen. He was asleep.

Nessa lay there a while. She then swallowed, in an effort to loosen the tightness in her throat. What was this—guilt?

Goose, she chided herself. He’s the enemy. Harden yer heart!

Eventually, she propped herself up onto an elbow and stared down at her lover’s sleeping face. Hugh’s broad chest rose and fell gently. He would sleep like a bairn now and awake with a mild headache the following morning none the wiser.

Biting her bottom lip, Nessa slid off the bed and rose to her feet.

She wouldn’t be here to greet him.

Stirling in a month it was, and Colina needed to know.

It was a week’s ride north, and she would need to leave now if she was to deliver the news in time so that Colina could send word to their allies.

But with the howling wind and snow, Nessa wouldn’t be able to leave until first light. She also had some packing to do—and that meant she would have to linger in her cottage a while longer. Wrapped in the blanket and shivering, she gazed upon Hugh’s sleeping face.

He didn’t want to leave her.

Reaching out, she trailed her fingertips down his strong jaw. “That’s just lust talking, Hugh,” she whispered. “In truth, we don’t know each other at all.”

Stepping back from the bed, Nessa cast off her blanket. Dawn was still a way off, yet she had much to prepare before then. She dressed in her heaviest woolen kirtle and her thick winter cloak, before stuffing two large leather saddle bags full of provisions.

Braving the biting wind, she made her way to Honey’s stall behind her cottage. The mare greeted her with a snort.

“Aye, lass, I know it’s not a night for traveling,” Nessa murmured as she saddled the garron. “But as soon as there is enough light, we must go.”

Although there was a crescent moon, the clouds had closed in, blocking out the silvery light that would have helped illuminate Nessa’s way. It was so dark outdoors, she’d likely ride straight into a tree if she left now.

Once Honey was saddled and ready to depart, Nessa went back inside. The peat was burning low, and so she put on some more fuel.

Hugh slept deeply upon the bed, oblivious to her industry.

Nessa went to her work table then and made herself up more of the potion that would prevent her womb from quickening. She then packed away the rest of her herbs into a pouch that she carried upon the belt cinched around her waist.

It was just as well that she was a woman who traveled light. Despite that she’d lived in Dunfermline nearly six months, she’d been careful not to accumulate many possessions. When one moved around as much as she did, it wasn’t wise.

Even so, as she took a seat by the fire and waited for the dawn, Nessa found herself not wanting to leave this warm and cozy cottage.

But leave it she would.

Nessa waited for as long as she dared before opening the door to her cottage and stepping outside. The wind still pummeled the walls, yet it wasn’t snowing and she could see the sky was lightening to the east.

It’s time.

Knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to stop herself, Nessa went back inside. Standing next to the bed, she stared down at Hugh’s face. He seemed younger in sleep, the hard edges of his handsome face softened. Leaning down, she stroked his brow before kissing him there.

“Goodbye, Hugh,” she whispered. “May The Three bless ye and keep ye.”

Her chest clenched then. Hugh was one of the enemy, but he was also her lover. She’d warmed to him over the past weeks, had grown to look forward to the lusty nights they’d spent together. She hadn’t wanted to leave him without a proper farewell, but it couldn’t be helped.

With a jolt, she realized she would miss him too.

Muttering an oath under her breath, and cursing her soft heart, she turned and strode from the cottage.