Читаем Bound by Honor полностью

Yet, that sword was double-edged, for now he must also be confronted with what he’d touched and crushed and manipulated earlier this day. At that time, he’d allowed himself naught but blurred impressions and impersonal touch-although the feel of her soft skin, the smell of her body, ripe from the floral bath, the silk of her hair . . . all had been impressed on his memory.

Will drank from his wine and sauntered back over to the chess game. The flash of hatred in John’s eyes had indicated just how keen the man’s disappointment had been . . . and how deep his lust had burrowed.

’Twas time to tread most carefully and cleverly. A balance between reminding John of his agreement and not letting him feel his loss too deeply.

He came to stand behind Marian. She tensed perceptibly and her breathing changed, but she did not look at him nor acknowledge him. Good. John must believe, at the least for now, that she loathed Will.

And of course she did. After what he’d subjected her to earlier this day, and now, as she sat here naked, what was likely to come . . . how could a noblewoman like Marian not despise him?

And yet, though he knew it would only feed the fire of her resentment, he was unable to resist touching her . . . this time without haste or furtiveness.

He reached forward, brushing his fingers over the top of her warm head, noticing details that he’d been unwilling to allow himself to see before. The palm of his hand cupped the top of her skull, then slid down over thick waves made of infinite shades of gold, bronze, copper, auburn . . . even ruby and garnet. Truly, she had the most magnificent hair, miraculous in its fire. ’Twas no wonder John lusted for her.

And, in truth, John was not the only one.

Marian lifted her hand to make another poor move, and Will tightened his fingers slightly. She paused and Will felt John’s interested gaze lift briefly. Damn.

But before he could say or do anything to alleviate the prince’s suspicions, someone knocked on the door.

John looked over and bade entrance, while Marian gasped and reached for something with which to cover herself. Will looked away as she snatched up her cloak, the curve of a smooth hip and the roundness of a breast jolting teasingly from beneath her hair.

The prince greeted the newcomers, and Will felt his momentary relief at the interruption fade. ’Sblood. The arrival of these two men-Sir Louis Krench and Lord Ralf Stannoch-only made the situation worse, for they were two of John’s long-time confidants and companions. Will had appreciated their absence, for while they were gone, John was left to his own devices-which were not quite as extreme as what the three of them dreamed up together.

At the least, no one had died while Krench and Stannoch were gone.

“So you have at last returned,” said John. “I’d begun to fear you’d joined my brother’s camp.” He laughed heartily at what he obviously intended as a jest.

He invited his friends into the chamber, and Will was slightly mollified to see that they weren’t alone: three tittering women accompanied them. Whores, serfs, or freewomen, Will didn’t know, and he didn’t care who they were except for the fact that they were additional quims and breasts.

He moved now and pulled Marian firmly onto his lap as he settled into an armless chair in a shadowy corner. She settled there stiffly, warm and lush. As far as he was concerned, the chess game was over. To ensure this eventuality, as John was inspecting the new female arrivals, who were already being coaxed out of their clothing, Will swept his hand over the chess table and knocked the remaining pieces askew. Then he curled his arm around Marian’s belly to keep her in place, folding his fingers into a fist.

Marian stiffened even more in his lap, and hissed, “Now he shall blame Hilde for that and punish her further.” Her mouth was near enough for him to smell the wine on her breath, but she was not close enough to kiss.

Foolish woman. Will looked away from the soft, sweet-smelling body and tightened his fist as he struggled to keep from uncurling those fingers and touching her. “John will know ’twas I. ’Tis yourself for whom you ought worry,” he murmured into her ear. “Krench and Stannoch are no weak weasels. But at the least they’ve brought their own playthings.”

“Then let us leave.” She turned and her hair spilled differently over his arm, tickling him and raising fine bumps there.

Aye. They must leave.

But Will did not move. His body was frozen, and he feared if he allowed it to thaw, all would be lost.

“Nottingham.” The sound of John’s voice cut through Will’s haze of indecision, and Will looked over to find John looking at him. “You must join us.”

It was not a request.

CHAPTER 8

M arian had nowhere to look, so she closed her

eyes. But the sounds pervaded, the sounds and scents of coupling. Of cries and gasps and desperate begging, the sharp slap of braided leather on skin, the groan of satiation, the smells of spent seed and sweat and spilled wine.