Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick
The Running Vixen (40 page)
‘I suppose I should thank de Gernons,’ he said. ‘Until I thought that hell-hound of his was going to kill Miles, I didn’t realise what he meant to me.’
‘He is yours, Adam.’ She laid her hand on his sleeve. ‘I wasn’t just saying it this afternoon.’
His smile was ghostly, like the last of the light. ‘Well, that’s a welcome blessing along the way, but it won’t alter the depth of my feeling for him - enrich it, perhaps.’ He dipped his head and kissed her. She responded, arms tightly around his neck.
‘Lie with me?’ he said between kisses.
Surprised, she looked up at him. His eyes were as dark as the glitter of the pond beside them. ‘Here? Now?’
He was unpinning her cloak and his and spreading them on the summer-scented grass. ‘Can you think of a better place? The keep’s crowded.’
Her breathing caught. A delightful warmth contracted her loins and she returned to his arms.
The horizon was dark and the moon had risen, a fat white crescent silvering sky and land. Adam stretched lazily, and sitting up, reached for his shirt.
Heulwen sighed and extended a languorous forefinger to run it down the knobbled ridge of his spine, smiling to feel him quiver. ‘I suppose,’ she said regretfully, ‘that Miles will be roaring to be fed, and Elswith will come seeking me before he rouses the whole keep.’
Adam laughed at the thought of the maid’s face should she seek them here and find them like this.
Heulwen sat up beside him, her unbraided hair tumbling down, and pressed her lips to his shoulder. ‘Adam, can we go home tomorrow?’ She helped him tug his shirt down.
‘I don’t see why not.’ He turned his head to kiss her, and continued dressing. ‘Any particular reason?’
‘Not really.’ She began shrugging into her own clothes. ‘I’d like to see our own plesaunce finished before the summer’s end.’ There was a sudden hint of mischievous laughter in her voice.
‘It would be more convenient than visiting Ravenstow every time,’ he agreed.
She nudged him with her foot in retaliation, then sobered. ‘I want to dedicate a chapel too, for my grandfather’s soul . . . if you are willing?’
Adam stood up and said quietly, ‘How could I not be willing? We owe him more than we can ever repay. Of course you can have a chapel.’
‘Thank you.’ She kissed him warmly.
He donned his cloak and then swung hers around her shoulders. The moonlight caught the wolf brooch into a brilliant, white glitter.
‘No more tail-chasing?’ she said as he fastened it.
‘No more tail-chasing,’ he agreed, and smiling, turned with her towards the keep.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - The Welsh Marches, Autumn 1126
Chapter 5 - France, Late Autumn 1126
Chapter 19 - Anjou, Spring 1127
Chapter 23 - Thornford, Summer 1127