And far more important than any of that...
She must stop thinking about that kiss!
Hugh was wound so tightly he could barely concentrate, let alone focus on a simple task such as eating his meal, even though his stomach was empty.
He glanced around the busy hall as people tucked in to the delicious trenchers of food—strips of pheasant with dark quince and spring lamb cooked in a nutmeg-spiced sauce—and wondered where his appetite had gone.
He poured himself another mug of ale and threw it back, swiping at his mouth before pouring another. He had no idea about that or anything else, so addled were his senses by the woman sitting next to him. The woman he should be wooing but found himself avoiding this evening.
Hell!
What was the matter with him? He couldn’t stop thinking that just when she had been almost in his arms she’d jumped away, faster than a frightened doe. And it had been nothing to do with any interruption. The desire he’d felt had intensified even after so many hours and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Annoyingly, Eleanor seemed to invade his thoughts far too much of the time for his peace of mind.
‘What is wrong with you this evening?’ Will hissed, on the other side of him.
‘Nothing.’ Hugh scowled over his mug without looking up.
‘There I was, under the firm belief that I was to witness the finer points of courtship, but clearly I was wrong.’
‘God’s breath, just leave it alone.’
Will ignored him and pressed on. ‘Most people would agree it strange—odd, even—that a man should begin to court a woman after he has wed her, but then you were never one to follow convention too strictly, were you?’
‘Lower your voice, for the love of God. Someone may hear.’ Hugh indicated Eleanor’s direction with a slight tilt of his head.
‘I am intrigued to know what that may be worth.’
‘Your head remaining attached to your body.’
Will grinned. ‘Fair enough,’ he said, tossing back his ale. ‘But for pity’s sake get on with it. You are supposed to be wooing your lady.’
‘I am doing so.’
‘Beg pardon—my mistake,’ Will said sardonically. ‘Really, Hugh, you have been silent all evening. Talk to her, make her laugh—do something.’
‘What am I? A performing jester?’
‘That would preferable than this brooding, my lord.’
With that said, Will turned his back on his friend and started a conversation with a few men sitting adjacent to him.
If only it were that easy. He had been talking to Eleanor, and he was getting to know her, but every time he thought they were becoming close she would pull back and remember that she wanted nothing to do with him.
Earlier, he had been surprised to discover it was actual hard work that had resulted in those callused fingers which she tried to hide and not because she was some sort of pampered heiress. The more he got to know her, the more his interest and attraction for her grew. He certainly admired her—but, damn it, he desired her too...and that was beginning to cause all manner of discomfort within him.
‘Hugh? Does your arm still pain you?’ Eleanor asked, placing her hand briefly on his shoulder to get his attention.
‘No, it’s fine,’ he said gruffly, staring at the mug in his hand.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘Is there something I can do for you?’
He almost choked on the ale he was drinking.
Something she could do?
Lord above, but he could think of many things she could do and that he would love to do to her...
No, no, no. That would not do! He had to stop these thoughts.
Even her voice tonight held a certain sensual, husky tone that was probably a figment of his imagination. His curious mind wondered still on the cries of breathless pleasure that he might evoke if he could only kiss her and...
‘Did you...did you just growl at me, my lord?’
Hugh turned his head and finally met Eleanor’s eyes, fixing a half-smile on his face that felt strained even to him. His gaze lingered on her mouth as she caught her plump bottom lip between her teeth. She was holding a few strips of meat dripping in their tender juices between her fingers.
‘I’m hungry, that’s all.’
Impulsively, evidently without thinking, Eleanor fed him the morsel she had been holding and wiped a little of the sauce from the side of his lip. Her fingers grazed his teeth, so close that he could have nipped them if he had wanted to.
He didn’t... Instead, frozen, he watched her for a heartbeat. Then, before he knew what he was doing, he held her wrist in place and licked the sauce off her long fingers.
Eleanor’s eyes widened in shock, awareness no doubt catching up with her, as he pressed his eyes shut and exhaled sharply, realising his mistake.
To spare her blushes, and his own, Hugh abruptly got to his feet, inclined his head and turned on his heel, catching Will’s eye, who shook his head as he left. Damn!
Ambling through the hall, Hugh exchanged greetings and small talk with the boisterous groups of his men milling around. He chuckled at a jest, slapped Gilbert Claymore on the back, and nodded in agreement with whatever the old steward had said without retaining a word of it.
Nonchalantly he slipped out of the crowded, noisy hall, hoping no one had noticed his discomfort.
The moment Hugh stepped outside his smile slipped and he let out a shaky breath. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against a stone wall, welcoming the rough, cool feeling against his skin.
Dear God, what was wrong with him?
Hugh returned to their chamber much later, after clearing his head and putting in place a few things that he had planned with Will for the morning. The room was drenched in the moonlight seeping in through the arched window, and the open shutters were letting in the frigid night
