Midnight Eyes Read online

  He didn’t blame the men entirely. Robert himself had been more than a little inspired by the sight of Imogen caressing her cheek absentmindedly with the feather as she had walked away.

  Robert’s body heated as he imagined presenting her with a feather of his own.

  Of course, he would give it to her in the privacy of their chamber. They would both be naked and lying on the rug before the fire. He would then run the feather over the gentle swell of her breasts, over the hollow of her navel, over the moist silk of her inner thigh and, reaching ever higher…

  Robert closed his eyes for a moment and tried to breathe deeply. His fevered imaginings were having an instantaneous, and painful, effect on him. His groin was now full and aching and he was grateful that the table was hiding his erection from Sir Edmond’s gaze, as the young man looked like he was suffering enough trying to control the sheep, without being confronted with his leader’s insatiable lust.

  Not that Edmond didn’t have every right to look embarrassed, Robert thought sternly. Knights weren’t shepherds and, as far as Robert was concerned, shepherds were the only ones who should have anything to do with sheep. Judging by the increasingly pained look on Edmond’s face, he was fast coming to that conclusion himself.

  “So that’s not my sheep, then?” Robert couldn’t seem to stop his lips twitching at Edmond’s almost frantic head shaking. “So, if it is not my sheep, then why have you brought it in here?”

  Edmond shrugged, his face filled with desperation. “I…I thought—uh, I thought…”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Robert murmured but, taking pity on the boy, continued. “Let me guess what you think you thought. You were thinking that if you were to give that vaguely smelly beast to Lady Imogen, my wife,” he emphasized, “she might be so overwhelmed by the—uh, magnitude, of the gift, that she might just bestow on your unworthy person some small favor. Am I close?”

  Edmond dropped his head, and nodded dejectedly, a lock of his blond hair falling forward over his forehead. Was I ever that young? Robert thought with bewilderment. Somehow it just didn’t seem possible.

  “Well, why then hasn’t my lady been presented with this unusual token?”

  “Couldn’t find her,” Edmond mumbled, his misery now absolute, and Robert’s side began to ache with suppressed laughter.

  “Ah,” he breathed out carefully and, once he was sure of his continued composure, he added, “would you like me to take you to her?”

  Edmond looked up and his grin was radiant. “You would actually do that?” he breathed with awe.

  Robert could no longer contain his laughter as he stood. “Of course. Far be it for me to deny my wife such a delightful gift. She was heading to the kitchen garden, I believe, if you care to follow me.”

  As they walked through the Keep’s hall and into the courtyard, everyone guessed who the sheep was for, and Robert had to grin at the frankly jealous looks the men were throwing Edmond. The poor boy was beginning to walk so tall that Robert feared he might trip over something if he didn’t cast the odd glance down at his feet. His new dignity was only marginally dinted by the protesting bleat of the sheep. It had to be some sort of enchantment, Robert concluded with amused awe. It was the only possible answer for the insanity that seemed to have descended over them all.

  And Robert was as caught in Imogen’s spell as were his men, even as he tried to fight it. He was just more discreet about his.

  Not many might know it, but every few days he rode over to the tower to bring back some small thing from the horde that Roger had hidden there. He would have brought everything over to the Keep at once but Imogen had been emphatic that it should all be left where it was. She had been coldly emotionless as she had mouthed the denial of her past, but the memory of the lingering touches she had bestowed on the covers of the books was burnt into his brain. He’d had to grit his teeth to stop the roar that had almost escaped as he had watched her surreptitiously slip a small paperweight into her cloak pocket just before they had left, when she thought he wasn’t looking. That she had tried to hide it from him cut into him like a knife to his vitals, but it was only in the dark of the night, as he watched over her as she slept, that he let himself dwell on the helplessness betrayed in that small gesture. A helplessness she refused to share, dark memories she carefully shielded from his gaze. It was his primal fear of losing her to those memories that stopped him from bringing it all out into the open by tearing down the tower stone by stone and giving her back her childhood, but the anger still filled him.

  Anger that it was fear of her brother and his power that made her insist that the tower should stay as it was. Anger that she doubted him and his ability to stand between her and any danger, especially the threat posed by her reptilian brother.

  If only she would talk to him! If she but asked him, he would vanquish all of her demons, Robert thought, smiling savagely as he imagined the pleasure to be found in grinding Roger to dust. But she didn’t tell him. She held her enemies and their secrets close to her, denying him.

  Still, in his own way he fought them. He fought them every time he presented her with a small piece of her past. Each piece of the puzzle that he returned to her was a silent pledge that he would protect her, to the last breath in his body, from all who might harm her.

  He could only hope that she would understand and, in time, let him in.

  Until then, he would settle for the smile she gave him each time he gave her back another relic from her youth, would settle for the warmth of her body along his as she silently thanked him at night in the privacy of their chamber.

  Robert looked at the jubilant Edmond and had to smile.

  If only Edmond knew.

  Imogen buried her hands deep in the warming soil. The winter seemed to have lasted forever, but at last it was finally taking flight. The sun was getting slowly stronger, the winds steadily sweeter.

  After years of cold, lonely isolation, Imogen couldn’t help but feel that it was a glorious time to be alive. Just drawing breath and smelling the scents of spring was a gift. To be contributing to it, well, that was almost a miracle. There was much she still couldn’t do, but she had also come to realize that there was so much else she could if she tried. Each day she was working harder than she had ever done before and she loved it.

  Today, old Duncan was teaching her to weed, and while Mary might grumble that gardening was no job for a lady, she also enjoyed the chance to catch up on her sleep too much to pass on the opportunity. Grudgingly, she allowed the small social abomination to continue.

  Imogen smiled with satisfaction at how everything had turned out. It was good for Mary to have some time to herself after all these years of devoted service, but it was also good that Imogen was finding a place in the world. With Duncan watching over her, there was no longer any excuse for her to be idle.

  He had given her a garden bed to weed in preparation for the seeds he had collected last autumn. It was amazing to know that as long as she was methodical about her work, then her hands were nearly as useful as Duncan’s gnarled ones.

  No, it was more than amazing. It felt like she was being let back into the human race after many long, dark years of exile. It felt like magic and Robert was her personal magician who had brought her back to life.

  Her smile broadened at the absurd thought of her strong, simple warrior of a husband as a manipulative conjurer of tricks, although she had to admit that in him, there was a certain enchantment to be found. She knew she must be blushing as memory after memory filled her mind with the exact details of the magic that he created in her with his body. She had never known such joy as there was to be found in Robert’s arms.

  She couldn’t help but shiver a little. Joy. Even to think of it seemed to be tempting fate, or perhaps it was Roger she was afraid of tempting. He was the one who had brought Robert to her, and she should never forget that. It was a surprisingly hard thing to remember, especially when it was inconceivable that any action of her brother’s could
be the source of so much joy.

  Her hands clenched in the soil as her sunny day seemed to lose some of its warmth all of a sudden and she hated Roger for that. Damn, but he was always there, waiting at the fringes of her life to destroy everything. And as much as she tried to deny it, a part of her feared that all she was feeling right now might just be another move in his game. Perhaps he knew that if she lost this life, lost Robert somehow, she would be absolutely destroyed. If he knew that…

  She turned her mind from the darkness and stopped thinking altogether, concentrating instead on the pursuit of weeds. She willed her soul to be soothed by the sounds of the early spring. She listened intently to the sound of birds building nests and finding mates, the sound of bees returning, the sound of sheep bleating…

  Sheep? In the courtyard?

  “Sheep?” She turned to where Duncan had been digging. “Do you hear sheep, Duncan?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Duncan said, scratching his forefinger along his nose as he leaned on his shovel, “and I can see one too. Sir Edmond seems to be holding it.”

  Startled, Imogen turned to the sound.

  “Didn’t mean to stop you working, Little One,” Robert said laconically, “but Sir Edmond couldn’t wait to give you a small…something.”

  “Something? You can’t possibly mean a sheep?”

  “Actually, I think it might technically be a lamb, but I could be wrong. I am not exactly au fait with agricultural matters.”

  “Aye, sir, you have the right of it.” Duncan’s face wrinkled into a broad smile. “That is most definitely a lamb.”

  “I defer to your greater acquaintance with such things, Duncan.”

  “Thankee, sir.”

  “Not at all.”

  By this stage, Edmond was wishing the earth would open up and swallow him. He started shuffling noisily from foot to foot, longing for what was becoming the most embarrassing moment of his life to end.

  “Stop it, you two, can’t you tell you’re embarrassing Sir Edmond?” Imogen scolded as she got clumsily to her feet.

  “Don’t blame us,” Robert snorted, “any embarrassment he feels is the sheep’s fault.”

  “Lamb, sir.”

  “Lamb. That’s right. Thank you again, Duncan.”

  “Ignore them, Edmond, they are just being silly,” she said dismissively, giving him a large smile of encouragement, unaware that she in fact managed to dazzle him. “Do you really have a lamb?”

  “Ye…yes, Lady Imogen,” he stumbled.

  “Can I pet it?” She stepped forward a little. “I’ve never touched a lamb before.”

  Edmond almost fell over himself in his rush to gain her side. With a sad, resigned shake of his head, Robert watched another of his men fall. They were all like sailors drowning under a siren’s spell.

  Imogen smiled tenderly as she groped to find the lamb in Edmond’s arms. The lamb, perhaps also under her spell, went silent and leaned its small head closer to her touch.

  “Oh, isn’t it a dear,” Imogen cooed, then she bit her lip earnestly. “May I hold him?”

  “Of course,” Edmond yelled with almost indecent relief, causing Imogen to flinch a little.

  Her brow furrowed with concentration as Edmond awkwardly placed the lamb into her willing hands. The lamb settled itself peacefully in the arms of its new protector, resting its head on her forearm and closing its eyes trustingly.

  “It would seem you can charm animals just as easily as you charm grown men.” Robert shook his head with disbelief as he moved to her side and slid an arm around her shoulders. He couldn’t help relishing the way she instinctively leaned into him although all her concentration was focused on the lamb.

  “Oh, Robert, may I keep him? He is such a dear and won’t be any problem.”

  “Now Imogen…”

  “I promise, you’ll barely know he’s here. It will be no more painful than having another dog around the Keep. I promise.”

  “But Imogen, a sheep…”

  “Please,” she whispered pleadingly and Robert knew he was sunk.

  “All right, it can stay,” he sighed, slightly belligerent in his resignation, “but it can’t stay in our chamber. You’ll have to find somewhere else…”

  His stern lecture was cut short by Imogen’s squeal of delight as she threw an arm round his neck and kissed him. For a second he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, but the lambs’ wriggling protest made him pull back long before he wanted to.

  Robert looked up from Imogen’s flushed face to cast a quick glance at Duncan, and was relieved to see that the wise old man had returned to his digging. Edmond, however, wasn’t as quick. He was staring slack-jawed at the couple when Robert’s eyes met his. Robert smiled at his look of embarrassed devastation, but decided to take pity on the poor boy.

  “Edmond is looking like a slapped puppy,” he whispered into Imogen’s ear. “He seems to think I stole his reward.”

  Imogen’s renewed blush almost rivaled Edmond’s.

  “Of course, I’m so sorry, Sir Edmond.” She turned and, with the unerring judgment that always amazed Robert, reached on tiptoes and placed a kiss on Edmond’s heated cheek. “The lamb is absolutely wonderful and I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You could always name it after him,” Robert said wickedly.

  “No!” Edmond yelped, forgetting all manners in his distress. Robert watched with amusement as the younger man cleared his throat and started again. “No such thanks are necessary, Lady Imogen.” He touched his cheek reverently. “None at all. Well, I’d best get back to work. Can’t stand around talking all day.”

  He lifted Imogen’s hand and bowed over it with more grace than Robert had ever seen him display before, then strode manfully away. Robert only just managed to catch the whoop of victory he let out before disappearing around the corner.

  “Imogen, how the hell do you do it?” Robert asked, shaking his head with wonder.

  “Do what?” she asked abstractedly as she tried to calm the now seriously squirming lamb.

  “Never mind,” he said with a bemused smile.

  “Robert, I think it’s hungry. What do I do?” she asked as she slipped her fingers into its mouth and it began sucking on them aggressively.

  “Don’t ask me. I’m a warrior, not a farmer.”

  “A good lord should be a little of both, sir,” Duncan murmured with a knowing smile. “As for the lamb, I suggest a visit to the kitchens for some milk and a bed by the fire might be in order.”

  The concern cleared from Imogen’s face. “Brilliant.” She beamed at Duncan, and moved out of Robert’s sheltering arms so that she could dump the lamb into them instead.

  “What the…”

  “It’s a lamb, not a sheep, and it’s hungry, so you’d best feed it.”

  “How come I get left with the bloody thing?” he protested. “It’s from one of your foolish admirers, you look after it.”

  “Edmond’s not foolish and I’m working,” she said sternly, then wrecked the overall effect by breaking into a grin as she ran a hand over the lamb’s head. “Besides, as Duncan said, you can’t just be a warrior. You’ll have to learn about things like sheep, now you might own some. Here’s a chance to get a little practical experience, so go learn about sheep while I get back to work.”

  Robert scowled furiously at the suddenly busy Duncan, then looked helplessly down at the frantic creature that had started to suck aggressively on one of the toggles on his shirtfront.

  “I don’t want to look after the sheep,” Robert said plaintively, knowing he sounded like a petulant child and not caring.

  Imogen leaned up and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. “Sure you do,” she whispered for him alone. “Please.”

  He groaned, knowing when he was outclassed and defeated. He snaked out an arm and clamped her close to his body and gave himself over to a hard, hungry kiss in an attempt to salvage something from this disaster. By the time he drew away they were both struggling for air
and the lamb was protesting loudly.

  He looked down at the beast in resignation. “Milk and warmth, right Duncan?”

  “That’d be right, Sir Robert.”

  Robert nodded and, with one last heated look at Imogen, turned to leave. He was stopped by a low murmur.

  “If you come and get me in an hour, I should be finished here and we can discuss…that further in our chamber.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “You drive a hard bargain, but all right. One hour, and not a second longer.”

  As he walked toward the kitchen he was well aware that he was grinning and had a decided spring in his step. He looked down at the lamb and gave it a smug smile. “Looks like I’m getting a reward out of you as well as Edmond, and I can guarantee, mine will be the better one of the two.”

  The lamb met his eyes blandly and bit down on the toggle, breaking it cleanly in two.

  Imogen smiled as Robert’s whistle reached her on the breeze. She didn’t understand the man, she thought with a shake of her head, and started to weed once more.

  “If you don’t mind me saying, my lady,” Duncan said suddenly, “but he’s a good man, that husband of yours.”

  “You think so, Duncan?” she asked, calmly working, pretending that the answer didn’t really matter.

  “I don’t think so, my lady, I know so.”

  A good man? Did such things exist? Did they manage to live even though men like Roger seemed to be in control of the world? It seemed almost fantastic, but a part of Imogen started fervently praying that it might indeed prove to be true. She carried the hope of her prayers in her heart as she worked. She needed so badly for it to be true. The world so badly needed good men. But to hell with the world, she thought savagely, pulling up a weed, she needed them more. Needed him more. She needed him to be all he seemed to be.

  Was she tempting fate by asking for so much?

  Perhaps, but she also knew that she couldn’t survive with anything less. If Robert turned out to be Roger’s man, then her new life would turn to ashes, and her life would no longer be worth living.