The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(159)

And then Reuben had arrived, the living antithesis of virtue in a wild, hard package. The way he looked at her had flooded her with heat from the beginning, and now she slowly began to realize that, when he looked at her, he was imagining things far beyond what she could dream of. Things that were exciting, pleasurable, and probably very sinful.

Well, if he made any improper advances on her, she would just have to tell him no. She was an honorable young maiden, with her own code of morals, and could make her own decisions.

Like you made your own decision in the tower the other day? A small, mocking voice in the back of her head asked. If the servant hadn’t knocked…

She ignored it.

Fortunately, Ayla had plenty to keep her busy and keep her mind off Reuben. Work on the first village houses progressed quickly. One day, Bardo visited Ayla, and a few hours later, several carts with what Ayla preferred to think of as “building material” left the castle, heading towards the village. Ayla personally oversaw the departure, although she made sure to stand upwind from the carts.

She went to visit Fye when the girl wasn't busy whacking things with sticks and made a mental note about giving her mother an extra food ration. The poor thing looked rather worn. She also went to visit Isenbard's grave regularly, both to pray for the soul of her Uncle Ironbeard and to ask for advice. Answers seemed to come to her more easily there. Sometimes she cried, but they were not bad tears. Isenbard had died the way he wanted to, and that soothed her pain at his passing.

Not infrequently, she also ventured into the part of the orchard far behind the grave, where there she found another kind of peace, with all signs of human beings, dead or alive, out of sight. More and more apples were hanging from the trees now. It was late in the year, and she enjoyed to be outside as long as she could.

What she didn’t realize was the risk this lonesome walks would entail for her. She didn't realize that she was alone and that somebody was looking for her until she heard his voice behind her.

“Finally.”

Slowly, Ayla began to turn around, though there was no need to. She would have recognized that voice anywhere.

Reuben was leaning against a tree, a red, ripe apple in his hand. The expression on his face almost made Ayla's knees buckle.

“Finally,” Reuben repeated, taking a slow, deliberate bite out of the apple. The crack of his teeth biting into the apple echoed through the orchard. “I've caught you. And I've caught you all alone, it seems.”

Desperately, Ayla looked around for a way to escape.

“To your left is the keep wall,” she heard Reuben's voice. “To your right is the back of the stables. Behind you is a thick undergrowth. I wouldn't recommend going through that, unless you want your dress ripped to shreds.” He considered for moment. “Not that I'd mind that, of course, but I would like very much to do it myself.”

Ayla turned back to him, regarding him like a doe trapped by a wolf—with good reason. He certainly stared at her as though he'd like to eat her up.

“W-what…” She cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. “What do you want, Sir Reuben?”

He tilted his head, as though giving the question serious consideration. Finally, he said:

“You.”

Ayla gulped. “Oh.”

He began to slowly advance towards her, his burning gray eyes not leaving her face for an instant. Well…not quite. Sometimes they strayed to take in other parts of her.

“You want me for something, do you?” she said hurriedly, taking a few steps back until her back touched the bushes behind her. The branches dug into her skin, protected only by a thin layer of cloth. Right now, it felt very thin indeed—the only barrier between her and the man in front of her. “Is there something you wanted to discuss with me? To be honest, now might not be the best time. There's something very important I have to think about, and to think, I need to be alone, so you had better go, and we can talk later, if that's all right with you, and…”

“I don't want you for talk,” he cut her off. Now he was only a few yards away from her. Ayla turned away to the side and stumbled backwards again until her back was pressed against the cool stone of the castle keep. Reuben followed her with the ease of a practiced predator. With a flick of his hand, he flung the half-eaten apple into the bushes.

“Th-that’s not nice,” Ayla mumbled. “We don't have food enough for you to just waste it like that. You shouldn't…”

His finger on her lips stopped her. It was such a shock to feel him there, skin against warm skin. His finger felt strong and hard, an unyielding barrier that stopped everything else she had planned to say.

Reuben leaned closer. His finger wandered from her lips, then suddenly his whole hand was touching her face. Ayla hardly knew how it happened. He began to stroke her face, gently, lovingly, leaving a marvelous tingle in the wake of his magical fingers.

A little sound escaped her throat. Was it a protest? Yes, surely it was a protest! This wasn't right, so it had to be a protest. Although her treacherous ears claimed it sounded more like a moan of pleasure.

“You're so beautiful,” Reuben murmured, his voice low and intense.

His other hand came up—not to touch her face, but to go around to the small of her back. Taking hold of her, he pulled her up against him in a manner definitely not in the knights' book of courtly etiquette. She gasped as she felt his hard muscles against her soft front.