Page 79 of The Knight's Pledge
She tried not to flinch away from his touch. “I’ve got a terrible headache,” she said.
“I see,” he said, and it was likely her imagination, but Gorman’s rich voice seemed to have cooled. “Do you want me to stay with you, any matter?”
“No,” she said, waving away his concerns. “Don’t deprive yourself of the last night of comfort we’re sure to see in weekson my account.”
“Kit has agreed to sing,” he cajoled with a smile. “For Mari and Gale, I think, but we shall all benefit.”
And now she could return her own smile genuinely. “Thatisa treat. I know you love her songs.” She placed a hand on his chest, over his good, strong heart. “Go. Enjoy. And don’t worry about me.”
Gorman stepped forward and took her lightly into his arms, kissed her forehead. “Sleep well.”
Her hand slid from him as he backed into the corridor, and Effie closed the door after him. She rested her forehead against the wood, listening to his footsteps stomping down the stairs.
* * * *
Lucan entered the common room, his personal satchel on his shoulder. A quick glance told him that Effie was absent, and he turned toward the stairs.
“Oh, Sir Lucan!” Dana called out. “You’re back—how lovely. Not running off again just when the festivities are high, I hope? Kit is to sing for us.”
Lucan’s pause spanned only the blink of an eye, but in that time he weighed his options. Effie was upstairs, and he had every intention of joining her later that night. He could barely stand the thought of being so close to her and not in her bed, now that he knew her desire of him matched his own need of her. But he was to wait until the others were abed any matter, and then he would spend this night doing what she wanted him to do, what it seemed neither of them could now do without,until the dawn.
“Of course not.” Lucan held up his satchel. He turned and walked up the stairs, hearing voices before he was halfway ascended. His head appeared above the second floor, and he saw Gorman standing in a doorway, a swish of skirt beyond his boots.
Skirts he’d just held up while taking Effie Annesleyin the stable.
Gorman stepped further into the room, and he saw his arms go about Effie, his head descend.
Lucan walked up the remainder of the steps silently and slipped into his room, closing the door. He flung his satchel acrossthe small cell.
He wanted to go back into the corridor. He wanted to go to her room and tear Gorman Littlebrook to pieces.
Gorman, his friend.
Blasted Effie Annesley. What game was she playing?
* * * *
Effie waited until what must have been well past midnight for Lucan to come. The White Swan had been silent for hours. She tossed restlessly in her bed and then at last crept across her floor and opened her door the slightest crack to listen.
Not a sound.
Should she go to him? She wanted to—she verily ached withthe want of it.
She closed the door and went back to her mattress. She was pathetic—like a bitch in heat. It wasn’t like her. Nothing was the same as it was, and she didn’t even recognize, nor could she predict her own actions. She was frightened, unsure, desperate—a terrible combination of feelings for one who was to soon storm the stronghold of the English monarchy in order to rescue her sonand her father.
She’d never felt this way with Gorman. And that she loved Gorman was indisputable.
Pull yourself together, she told herself. Get some sleep. Twelve hours in the winter saddle tomorrow will cure you of your wanton restlessness.
She rolled over, pulled the coverlet tight around her shoulders and squeezedher eyes shut.
A whispering voice bid her goodnight with,It’s just as well; he couldnever love you.
Chapter 20
It was harder leaving the White Swan this time for everyone, Lucan observed—himself included. He knew it would be the last place for a very long while—if ever—that he could relax without looking over his shoulder. Perhaps the last place he would claim ownership of Effie Annesley’s body.
He certainly didn’t hold any of her heart.
