The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(104)
“Is that so?” Ayla raised an eyebrow. “Of course, I know little of the ways of such great ladies at the court. I’ve never been at court, and bards who sing of such matters don’t often visit my father’s castle. So, tell me, did the knight always accept the handkerchief of the lady?”
Reuben's lips twitched in an involuntary grin. “No, not always. Not if the lady was ugly, for instance, or if she was a shrew. And sometimes, a knight simply didn't accept the lady's token because he wasn't in love with her.”
“And you, Sir Reuben?” Ayla stretched out her small, ivory hand a little more and presented the piece of cloth to him. “Will you accept my token?”
Without answering, holding her beautiful sapphire eyes with his gaze, Reuben stretched out his hand and gripped the handkerchief. Then, before she could let go, he grasped her hand in his and, quick as tiger, brought it up to his lips. Softly, fervently, his lips pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, besieging her, beleaguering her fortress.
Reuben smiled.
For this siege, I won’t even need siege weapons. Well, apart from one, if I’m lucky…
He could feel Ayla's breathing speed up, and the heat that seemed suddenly to emanate from her slender body lured him forward. His smile widened, and he took a determined step towards her.
Behind Closed Doors
Ayla was just trying to figure out how not to faint from the feeling of Reuben's lips on her fingers when she heard a noise from the thing used to enter the room. What was it called again? Oh yes, door. Trivial details like that were so hard to focus on with the heat of Reuben’s mouth on her hand. And the noise coming from the door was called…
Reuben's lips slowly moved up her fingers, caressing, worshiping. It was so hard to concentrate.
A knock! That's what it was called! A knock. Somebody was knocking at the door.
So what? She didn’t have to let them in, did she?
“Ayla,” Reuben murmured against her skin. Her name, whispered against her skin, was the most intoxicating thing she had ever felt.
“Milady?” Burchard’s voice came from outside the room. The knock came again. “Are you in there?”
She opened her mouth, trying to reply “yes.” However, the weak noise that came out of her mouth wasn't very coherent.
“Milady? Why are you moaning? Are you sick?”
“Err…not really, Burchard. I…ohhh…”
“Milady? What's the matter? I'm coming in!”
Some survival instinct in Ayla made her snatch her hands from Reuben's grasp and fall back into her chair. It was just in time. At the other end of the room, Burchard thrust open the door and peered into the room, his mustache twitching suspiciously.
Reuben bent to her ear and whispered, “That old walrus has the worst sense of timing of anyone alive!”
Ayla had to work hard to suppress a grin. Finally, Burchard's gaze fastened on her reddened cheeks.
“What's the matter with you?” he demanded. “You look flushed. Are you sick?”
What could she tell him? What could she possibly say?
I think I have fallen in love, for the second time in my life, and it's the same man I fell in love with the first time. Why twice, then? Well, he lied to me and robbed me, which kind of made me despise him for a while, but we've got that straightened out now. He's not going to betray me. At least, I hope so…
No. That would definitely not go over well.
Determinedly, she kept her eyes off Reuben and answered, “I'm just upset about this business of the traitor.”
She didn't mind that her voice sounded low and breathy. She had said she was upset, hadn’t she? For all Burchard knew, she might have been crying buckets. Out of the corner of her eyes, she chanced a quick glance at Reuben. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight.
“Well, I can understand that,” Burchard replied. But Ayla wasn't listening anymore. She was only seeing Reuben.
He was glowing. His fierce gray eyes were alive with a fire that was just as ferocious as the fire of battle she had seen there before, or even more so. If he had looked glorious before, he now looked sublime. What had happened?
The answer to the question presented itself so clearly that Ayla was terribly afraid it might be the wrong one.
What had changed?
She had given him a sign of her love. That had.
Could it really be that her love had lifted him to such levels of intimidating ecstasy? Well, his love had certainly done the same for her.
“…and I came to ask you…” Burchard was still talking. But somehow, although he still technically was in the same room, he seemed a thousand miles away. Ayla was still looking at Reuben out of the corner of her eyes.
Suddenly, she felt a surge of hot emotion course through her. Was it anger at the Margrave? No. It wasn't anger. She had felt anger before, and this was different. She had felt anger for him wanting to attack her people, for him wanting to take what was not rightfully his.
But now, she felt hate. She hated the Margrave for daring to want to take this man from her. This man whom she loved.
I won’t let that happen! she vowed to herself. I’ll do everything in my power to see that we come out of this alive, and together.
With enormous effort, she wrenched her eyes off Reuben and turned her attention back to Burchard. He was talking about important matters—probably—and she was neglecting her duties as the mistress of the castle. When they were safe, if they ever would be safe again, she could indulge in daydreams. Not before.