Catherine Archer - Velvet Bond

He gave her one of those long, enigmatic looks. “Yes.” Then he turned back to his plate.

Elizabeth took another sip of her wine. She was growing quite relaxed, her arms and legs pleasantly heavy. It was beginning to matter less and less that Raynor was rude and distant. In fact, she was feeling almost amused by the whole situation. What Raynor needed was to allow himself to loosen up just a bit. He might benefit from a few glasses of wine himself.

Arching a fine black brow, she lifted the pitcher in offering. “Would you care for more?”

He barely nodded, handing her the cup. Elizabeth filled it for him.

“My thanks,” he told her, taking a long pull before setting it down next to his dish.

At least he was being polite now, she thought, settling back in her chair, her own cup in her hand. She sipped at the wine, no longer caring to make the pretense of eating.

He glanced over at her, frowning as if she had done something to irritate him in some way. “You aren’t eating.”

“Nay,” she replied languidly. Her own gaze went to his plate, and she saw that for all his studied concentration, Raynor had managed to eat very little of his own dinner. She laughed huskily. “My lord Warwicke, it appears you are not hungry, either.”

With an angry grunt, he pushed the dish aside. “I am not.”

She drained her cup, then watched as Raynor did the same, her eyes never leaving his. This time it was he who leaned forward to refill the vessels, without speaking.

He took another drink of his own wine, his gaze fixing on the tapestry behind her. His lean profile was hard, but undeniably handsome in the glow of the fire, leaving her with a desire to run her hand over the strongly etched jaw. Despite his best efforts, there was an air of loneliness about him that even his confidence and self-possession could not disguise. From somewhere inside her came the thought that this strong man needed someone to share the weight of his troubles. And even though it was obvious that that someone was not her, she couldn’t help wishing he had given her a chance to at least know him better.

Suddenly Elizabeth found herself speaking. It was as if she couldn’t halt her wayward tongue. “You would not have come here tonight, knowing Stephen was gone?”

He turned to her, his brows knit in surprise at her frankness. He took a long pull of his wine before answering. “Nay, I would not have come.”

Even though she had known the answer, Elizabeth felt an unbidden twinge of chagrin. She couldn’t keep herself from replying with the first thing that popped into her mind. “I am really not so very wicked.”

His grimace belied his polite answer. “Of that I am most certain, Lady Elizabeth.”

She laughed. The words were so blatantly at odds with his expression. “Methinks you do not answer truthfully, my lord. What do you hold against me?” She raised her arms wide, then lowered them, feeling recklessly daring for talking so openly. “Am I not pleasing to you? Do I bring to mind some long-despised woman from your past?”

His gaze moved over her with slow deliberation, his eyes dark with some undefined emotion that made her pulse quicken. His voice was husky as he spoke. “You are most pleasing to me, Elizabeth Clayburn. And you remind me of no one I have known in my entire life. In fact, I find you too pleasing.”

Elizabeth knew a moment’s elation before he went on, his tone grown cool.

“But therein lies my problem. You are a noblewoman, and thus can be nothing to me. I want no complication in my life such as you would bring. I have troubles enough to keep me till the end of my days. Why would I willingly bring more upon myself? I know your type. You gently bred damsels think nothing of leading a man a merry chase until he is caught, then you show your true colors by taking all he can give you and more. Don’t try to deny it.” He raised a hand when she opened her mouth to argue. Raynor’s gaze caught Elizabeth’s, and would not let go. “When I take a woman, it is of necessity, a thing of the body, no more no less.” He laughed harshly at her shocked gasp, then released her gaze and paused to fill his cup before draining it.

As if his anger were too much to contain, Raynor pushed back his chair and went to stand before the fire, unmindful of the cushions he scattered in his wake. “No woman will own me.” He hit the wall above the hearth with a white-knuckled fist. Then he took a deep breath, turning back to her.

He came to stand beside the table, his face dark and unreadable with the fire low and behind him.

Elizabeth could only sit there, her wine-fuddled mind trying to make sense of what he had told her. “Obviously someone has betrayed you in some way, my lord Warwicke. But you cannot blame all noblewomen for the actions of one.”

He didn’t even try to answer her, simply shook his head. “You know naught of what you speak. I don’t even know why I am telling you of this. Perhaps I have had too much wine, or mayhap I needed for you to understand that, though I find you more than comely to look upon, I cannot allow myself to see you as anything more than that, a well-favored thing.”

That did not set well with Elizabeth. Obviously Raynor was not the man for her, if he felt thus. She was a woman who needed to be appreciated for all of herself, not just her face and form. Groggily she peered up at him. “I can see that we have completely opposite views on this most important matter,” she told him, as soberly as she could, considering the way her head was swimming. “I need someone who will love me as my father did my mother, with his whole heart and mind. Aye, they fought, but then Father would pick her up and take her up into the tower. They would be gone for hours at times, but when they came back they would be smiling. Mother wasn’t like the women you have known. She was my father’s friend and helpmate. They discussed their problems and took care of each other. My oldest brother, Henry, is married, and he has found the same happiness with his wife Aileen, though they had their problems in the beginning. You are most wise to keep your distance from me, my lord Warwicke. What you are willing to give would not be enough for me. I am no well-favored thing.”

Even though Raynor knew she was simply reacting to what he had said to her, the words stung. Flung back at him that way, the statement sounded worse than he’d thought. But Raynor had no intention of retracting it.

He looked at Elizabeth and saw that her head had tipped forward and her eyes were closed. He looked more closely. The vixen was asleep. Surprise wiped his self-deprecating thoughts from his mind.

In his lifetime many things had happened in the presence of a beautiful woman. But rarely had one fallen asleep with so little warning, and then only after he had thoroughly made love to her.

Raynor looked about the room. First he would move her to the rug before the fire, and then he would be on his way. Enough had been said between them, far more than Raynor had ever told anyone or ever meant to.

He went to her chair and pulled it away from the table, then bent and scooped her up into his arms. Though she was tall, Elizabeth was delicately formed, and her weight was no strain for his hardened muscles.

When he reached the carpet, he used his foot to rearrange the cushions he had scattered about, then went down on one knee to lower her onto them. She stirred in his arms, and he looked down. The heavy fringe of her lashes lifted, and she gazed up at him, the expression in her eyes flirtatious and all woman. “My lord Warwicke, am I to believe you have overcome your scruples concerning young noblewomen?” She giggled, putting her hand over her mouth.

But not before Raynor had caught the heavy scent of wine on her breath. Of course, how could he have been so incredibly stupid? She’d gotten drunk before his very eyes, and he hadn’t even noticed. Now that he thought back, Elizabeth had drunk a fair amount, but not nearly as much as he. Raynor wanted to absolve himself for not stopping her, on the grounds that he had been too occupied at first with his need to keep his distance, and then with his efforts to convince her he was not right for her, but it wouldn’t suffice. Mayhap his lack of perception had partly to do with his having consumed a fair amount of the strong liquid, also. Raynor was feeling more than a little muddled himself.