He could imagine how difficult this was for her. She’d been around Richard often. The king was able to charm her and win her heart. She barely knew Henry. Now her fate was about to be decided. It was frightening being so out of control.

  “Your life is difficult, Lizzie,” he said, looking into her eyes. “But you are up to it. Aye?”

  “Aye,” she agreed with a smile. “So what are you going to do about Richard’s enemy?”

  “I have yet to decide,” he lied. He wasn’t about to tell her how he would be victorious in the battle at Bosworth Field. “And let us not tell Richard any of this news yet. Let me take care of it.”

  She nodded but tried to hide her disappointment over getting no answer by looking away.

  Nicholas decided to drop the matter. She’d given him valuable information. Now the rest was up to him. He could spare time to those he loved.

  “What do you think of Miss Locksley?”

  She grew exuberant instantly. He felt her powerful intake of air against his side just before she moved away. “Oh, Nicky, I adore her! There’s something so, I do not know, genuine about her. Do you know that since you brought her here yesterday, instead of learning to embroider with her teacher, she was finding ways of being helpful to the staff?”

  He wasn’t shocked by this behavior. Since her first arrival, she’d been doing things to help the servants. They loved her. They loved her more than the man who did little for them, if anything. Soon, maybe even now, she would have power here.

  “She has also turned one of the storage rooms into an exercise room. We ladies are to strip down to our chemises and do what Kes does. Like touch her toes and jumping up and down while spreading your legs and clapping over your head. Kes says it helps keep us in tip-top shape.”

  “Tip-top shape, eh?”

  “She is unlike anyone I have ever met,” Elizabeth continued excitedly. “Where did you say you found her?”

  “Outside of Bridlington. She’d been wandering around hurt and remembered little about who she was. I brought her here to convalesce.”

  “Dear Nicky, ever the knight, always stopping to help a poor soul.”

  “’Tis my duty.”

  She smiled and leaned her head on his arm. “Have Miss Locksley’s memories returned since she’s been here?”

  “Some of them have,” he answered as if it were all true.

  “Is she wed or betrothed?”

  “No.”

  The lady he considered his little sister smiled as if she’d just discovered some hidden truth. “That’s good news for you. Is it not?”

  “I had not—”

  “Her eyes are…mesmerizing, like fathomless oceans.” She looked toward the waves and smiled. “She is adored by many of the men and accepts hundreds of accolades a day over her eyes.”

  “Hmm, is that so?” Nicholas asked her, senses piqued, honed to fight anyone for her. “What are their names?

  She laughed. “I’m not so foolish as to start a battle over a woman. I want peace above all else. Whether ’tis from Richard or Henry Tudor, makes no difference to me in the end. I will do what is expected of me and always carry the white rose for my father.”

  “As will I,” he promised.

  “Oh, the sun is moving across the sky so quickly.” She pointed to the sky. “I promised Elia I would sit with her this afternoon and tell her about what it was like in the care of the Earl of Oxford this past year. The de Veres are very kind and thoughtful, and Richard still has their support. We shall speak more later. Aye, Nicky?”

  “Aye,” he agreed and watched her run off.

  So, Henry was coming with his army of five thousand. Nicholas thought of all the passionate Yorkist lords who had turned their backs on the House of York because of Richard, and he cursed them and Richard. York needed them now.

  He would fight for York. He had to.

  He would return to Nottingham, but not for a few more days. He’d gather the rest of Richard’s army in Leicester and send Henry running back to Brittany as Tudor had done after his failed attempt to usurp Richard two years ago.

  Nicholas would discuss it with his men later. Right now, he found himself smiling as thoughts of Kestrel filled his head.

  He’d been smiling since he’d returned to Scarborough Castle with her yesterday. She was back, back in his great hall, in his kitchen with Cook and the scullery maids, back in the laundress’ and the seamstress’ rooms.

  He thought about her new exercise room. She was going to have the women strip down to their chemises and jump up and down. The men were definitely going to have to stay away, else, who in blazes knew what would happen?

  Why was he still smiling?

  Now that she had settled it in her head that she was staying, she was determined to keep busy here. He was glad, but he wasn’t as sure as she was about Mr. Simeon not finding another way. She said she wouldn’t take it, wouldn’t trust it. But what if after a month here, she decided she hated it? And Simeon found another way? Would she go then?

  He hadn’t wanted to open his heart to her. But he seemed to have no control over the matter. She made him happy.

  He soon found himself returning indoors—to the kitchen to find her. He’d been away from her long enough since parting with her after breaking their fast. He’d done some practicing in the field with a dozen or so of the men, washed up and changed his clothes, and then spent some time with Richard going over what they would do about Tudor. Now, with this fresh news, they should speak again.

  But not now. Now, he wanted to be with her.

  He leaned against the doorway of the kitchen and watched Kestrel as she bent to the oven and removed a tray with a thick towel. There were what appeared to be rolls on the tray. They smelled wonderful. So did the flat circles of meat cooking in a pan over the fire. Cook used a spatula to flip the circles and set off an eruption of pops and sizzles from the pan.

  Kestrel and Cook didn’t say much to each other, but they were working well together, moving about the kitchen without getting in each other’s way.

  Nicholas was astounded, since Cook was a mean bastard who didn’t like anyone in his kitchen.

  Kestrel spotted him and smiled. “Oh, I’m glad you’re here.”

  He liked her greeting. He—

  “You can help us cut the bread.” She used her knife to motion how he should cut the rolls, and then she proceeded to slice a large pickle into disks.

  “Unfortunately, it was really hard and time-consuming crushing the beef in a mortar and pestle, but it’s not a burger if it’s just one big slab of meat, you know what I mean? We could only make six. We have no ketchup. But we used a variety of different pepper, ginger, wine and stock to cook the burgers and I think they’re going to be good.”

  “The smell of them is making my mouth water,” he told her. “Or mayhap ’tis you,” he added as she passed him.

  She tossed him a slow smile and then instructed Cook to deposit a small amount of shredded cheese onto the center of each patty.

  “Bring the pan here, Cook,” she directed a few moments later. Shockingly, Cook obeyed and held the pan in the thick towel while Kestrel lifted a patty of meat and rested it on the bottom half of a roll. She did the same five more times and then set about placing slices of onion and pickle on top of the bubbling cheese. She covered each with the top half of a roll and told them to dig in. They only had three left. One was for Elia, one for Elizabeth and an extra one for Nicholas if he wanted it.

  They ate in the kitchen, gathering Elia and Lizzie to them. Nicholas picked up his roll in both hands and took the first bite. He thought his knees would give out at the pleasure in his mouth. Lizzie sliced hers in half and took a dainty bite, then another. She finished hers after Nicholas finished his. Elia and Cook were quiet, eyes closed after every bite.

  “This is delicious,” Elia complimented. “Can we have it again tomorrow?”

  “The mixture of spices and stock we used work well,” Cook told her with a rare smile.

  Kestrel smiled and took another bite. “I’m surprised they came out this good. I wish there were potatoes to make French fries.”

  They all gave a her a confused look.

  “Potatoes?” asked Cook.

  “French fries?” asked Elizabeth. “Are you friends with the French?”

  “They’re not really French,” Kestrel explained. “At least I don’t think so, but I’m no culinary chef.”

  Nicholas took his second burger and cut a half for Lizzie. No one else wanted seconds, so he was free to eat the rest.

  He watched her talk and laugh with the others. For a moment, he didn’t think anything could be better than this. He was here with her and others he loved and cared for.

  When they were done, he took Kestrel’s hand and pulled her out of the kitchen.

  “Come. I want to be alone with you,” he said in a low voice, while entwining their fingers.

  She smiled. “Dessert?”

  “Aye.” He stopped before they left the castle and pulled her into his arms. “Something decadent.” He gave her a quick, passionate kiss then flung open the castle doors.

  They hurried to the stable and saddled Nicholas’ horse. They would ride together. They weren’t going far. He knew of a secluded inlet about a mile west of the beach.

  He was tired of there being someone around every single time he tried to speak to her. Scarborough Castle was crowded. Everyone meant well, but they all wanted time with Kestrel. He didn’t blame them. She was spirited, more vivacious than most. She helped everyone with one thing or another. She had told him, even though he hadn’t questioned her, that treating the people who worked so hard in his castle fairly would benefit him in the long run. But he believed Kes, as Elianora called her, liked when folks around her were content and happy, and treated fairly.

  Nicholas thought he was fair, but she still had grievances. He didn’t mind hearing them. If making others happy made her happy, he would see to it that whatever he was doing wrong, he corrected.

  “Now I see why Elizabeth was so loved,” she said softly, leaning back against him.

  He loved riding with her this way and tightened his arm around her waist.

  “She is kind and thoughtful,” she continued. “Nothing like I expected royalty to behave. Who raised her?”

  “Her mother, three nursemaids…and me.” He smiled remembering little Elizabeth following him everywhere.

  “And you,” she echoed with what sounded like a smile. “I thought as much.”

  “She was a pest. She cried if she saw me and I left her vision without her.” He laughed and shook his head thinking of it. He’d put it out of his thoughts, as he’d put everyone out since Edward died.

  But since meeting Kestrel, he felt the emotions he’d suppressed, unless he was on the battlefield, boiling to the surface. She made him want to speak to her of things no one else knew about him.

  “Edward’s wife, Elizabeth Woodville—who was, in fact, his true wife, despite what Richard had the judges believe—she did not like that the king had taken in his captain’s son and his nurse and was raising the boy as his own.” His voice grew deep with melancholy. “But Edward would not give me up. He gave me every advantage he gave his children and I used every one and became who I am, who I became for him, for my true father, and for myself.

  “Once, when I was about ten and four and thought I knew all there was to know, I snuck out of the castle—we lived at Windsor at the time—to pay a visit to a certain pretty milkmaid, called Bridget…or Emily…” He paused, shook his head as if to get the names out of it, and continued. “She sought my attention and I intended to give it to her.”

  Kestrel turned and looked up at him. She lifted her brow and the corner of her lips beneath but remained silent and let him continue.

  “Edward’s daughter Lizzie was five summers old. She had spotted me sneaking away and followed me. Unaware of her presence, I didn’t know she’d taken a wrong turn and was lost.”

  “Oh, no, Nicholas,” Kestrel uttered.

  “We did not find her for two days. Her mother did not sleep but wept every day. Her father searched for her. I was allowed to go with him. I thought it might have been me she was after, so we went in the direction of the milkmaid’s house. We branched out in every direction. ’Twas I who found her. She had fallen into a ditch and was crying when I came upon her. She never wanted to be out of my sight again after that.”

  “You do give off a certain feeling of safety,” Kestrel told him, then looked around.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Making sure Elizabeth isn’t following you again. Where are we going anyway?”

  “Just around that bend and you will see,” he told her.

  They rode a little farther and when they rounded the bend, he felt her gasp at the sight of the waterfall just off to the left. It wasn’t anything very high or leading into the ocean. It was more like a secluded pool, almost as blue-green of Kestrel’s eyes, and surrounded by trees and brush and blooming vines.

  “Nicholas, this place is…”

  “I know.” He hadn’t been here in years.

  “Have you brought many girls here?”

  He shook his head. All at once, he wanted to tell her everything about himself. “None. I had no time for courting. There were never-ending battles to be won. Edward and Elizabeth had had more children, so when I came home, I spent much of my time with them. What was the point in losing my heart to someone when I had to leave again so soon?”

  She nodded, looking worried. “You’re leaving in a few days,”

  “Aye.”

  “I will miss you,” she told him then sat up when he did.

  He swung his long leg over her and dismounted close to a huge basking rock.

  He squinted his eyes and then held up his arms to her. “Feel like going for a swim, love?”

  Love?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kestrel looked around at the lake surrounded by rocks and trees. Water dropped in a frothy white column emptying into the misty basin from a cliff bathed in sunlight. A family of falcons flew around it, soaking in the spray.

  Only a man like Nicholas would know of a place like this. Only he would thrill her just by being with her. No other man would do. But she couldn’t be in love with him in less than a fortnight. Could she? She’d sworn off men, of which, he was one. Sooner or later, the jerk side of him would rear its ugly head.

  Still, if she was staying, and it seemed as if she was, she didn’t want him to leave her. Needing him for safety wasn’t the only reason she’d consider staying with him.

  She watched him, drenched in sunlight, begin to strip down to his bare and very fine ass. She didn’t have time to admire his long, shapely legs or the scars lacing the masculine flare of his shoulders. He bore scars everywhere, but before she could begin to take them all in, he dove from the basking rock into the water. Should she follow? Naked? Sex would complicate things. And she didn’t want them to be complicated.

  She walked to the edge and smiled at him wading in the blue water. She began to undress. She knew she didn’t have some voluptuous body with which to bewitch him. She was thin and rather “stickish”. She could have saved for some breast surgery, but she figured a guy should love her for who she was—a woman comfortable with herself. Not because of her boobs.

  She pulled off her overdress, and then her slippers while he waded in a small circle, eyeing her beneath the shadow of his brow when he came around again.

  She stepped out of her chemise and stood on the basking rock in her bra and matching panties.

  He looked surprised and very happy at the sight of her in her underwear. She didn’t think the lace would last much longer. It wasn’t meant to be washed every night. But the pair was all she had.

  Today, it would serve as a swimsuit.

  She dove into the glittering water and swam to him when she came up.

  “What is this?” He slipped his wet finger under the shoulder strap of her bra. He seemed mesmerized by the elastic.

  “It’s called a bra. It supports my boobs.”

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Your boobs?”

  She nodded, cupped them both, and then swam away. He swam after her and caught her by the foot.

  Laughing, she let him pull her close in his arms. His gaze was warm and his smile, sensual. He didn’t say anything, he just looked into her eyes and dipped his head to cover her mouth with his.

  His lips ravished her with mastery and hunger, claiming every inch of her mouth with subtle curiosity. He didn’t try to grab her breasts or squeeze her ass like so many others—but he wasn’t like any of the others.

  That didn’t mean she should let herself succumb to his raw sensuality and passionate kiss.

  His arms closed tighter around her as his kiss deepened, becoming more needful. His mouth broke away and he slipped one hand behind her head, cupping her neck with his long, broad fingers. He tilted her head back, spilling her liquid locks over his hand, and exposing her throat to his ravaging mouth.

  She ran her palms over the sleek muscles in his arms. He felt like solid rock, yet he molded to her like a caress.

  He kissed the column of her neck and then flicked his tongue and teeth against her pulse.

  Her nipples hadn’t been this tight and hard in her life. She thought he must be able to feel them pressed so closely to him.

  She could easily lift her legs and wrap them around his hips. He was big and strong. He could support her. She wanted to. She wanted to feel his hardness against her. She wanted to pillage him a little, too.

  But she didn’t. This wasn’t her time, where people hooked up and it didn’t mean anything. If Nicholas got her pregnant and then died in battle, where would she go? What would she do? Her father wasn’t here to help. Neither were her friends. She had to try to keep a clear head.

  Thankfully, he wasn’t trying to pull her out of her panties—though the thought of it made her heart accelerate. She was able to break away without a fight from him.

  If he’d given her a fight, she would have left. Finding a place to live in the fifteenth century wouldn’t be as hard without a baby.