BindingPassion (8 page)

The door to his solar stood open.

Sir Peter, coming up behind her, almost crashed into her as
she stopped there. “Your pardon, my lady,” he said. “I heard there was an
accident of some sort, and my lord might be…” The man was pale beneath his dark
beard.

“I understand,” she said, though she spared him only a brief
glance.

Her attention was all on Philip.

He sat on the side of his bed, awake and aware of what was
happening. Blood streaked the side of his face and clothes, but his posture
wasn’t that of a man nursing severe injuries. His voice was querulous, almost
angry, as he insisted he was fine and asked them to leave him and attend to
someone else.

Mary pushed her way through the men gathered in the room.
She was aware that Sir Thomas was there, one hand on Philip’s shoulder,
steadying him, along with two other of Philip’s men-at-arms, and several men
from the manor or surrounding lands. Many of them bore scratches or streaks of
some chalky gray or white substance in their hair or on their clothes.

She reached Philip’s side. He looked up at her as she
approached and managed a wavery smile. “Mary, please convince these men I’m
fine and would rather be left alone. They need to check on William. I fear he
was hurt worse than I.”

“What happened?” she asked.

Several of the men tried to answer at once, but she gave her
attention to Sir Thomas who said, “A stone fell from the northeast tower as we
were working on the east wall. It landed right in our midst. It would have
fallen square on young William’s head, save that Philip, who stood right next
to him, managed to push him out of the way.”

Mary nodded and looked around at the gathered men. “Anders,”
she directed, looking at an older man who’d done maintenance around the manor
since before her birth. “Please go find out about William’s condition and
report back to us as quickly as you may.”

The man nodded and left. He almost ran into Brianne, who was
hurrying in.

“I was told there was a mishap,” Brianne said. She looked
around the room, then focused on Philip. “What have you done to yourself, my
lord?” She walked over to him, lifted his face and stared into his eyes for a
moment. Several of the men launched into the explanation about the stone
falling. Brianne nodded and asked Philip to move arms, legs, hands, fingers,
and feet.

While she did that, Mary herded the men out of the room. Sir
Thomas insisted he’d wait outside the door until he heard the healer’s verdict
on Philip’s condition. He settled his back against the wall. Sir Peter insisted
on remaining as well. Mary went back into the room.

Philip was able to meet all of Brianne’s requests, though he
couldn’t always suppress a wince of pain at some movement. Brianne nodded
again, then took a cloth and began to sponge the blood away from the wounds on
his face to examine them. “This should heal without the need for a stitch,” she
commented, feeling around a cut in his temple.

Anders returned at that moment. “My lord, William’s injuries
shouldn’t be fatal, but it does appear that his arm is broken, and possibly his
collarbone as well. He’s in some pain. Mistress Brianne, if you’d go to him as
soon as you finish with my lord.”

“You can go to him now,” Philip said. “These are naught more
than scratches and strained muscles. The boy has more urgent need of your
services.”

Brianne nodded. “Aye, my lord,” she agreed. “I’ll go now.
Lady Mary can clean the rest of your hurts. A warm bath afterward will ease the
strained muscles.” The healer rushed from the room.

Mary went out to convey the news to Sir Thomas and Sir
Peter. Both looked relieved as they left their posts. “You’ll take care of him,
Lady Mary?” Sir Thomas asked.

Sir Peter turned and threw a quick, dubious glance at the
other man, then gave her a harder, sterner look. “You’ll answer for it, do you
not,” he warned. His harshness surprised her into a taking a step backward. But
he was Philip’s nephew and naturally concerned for his uncle.

She assured them she would give him the best of care. “Would
you stop at the kitchen and ask for water to be brought for a bath for Philip?
Brianne thought it would help ease his injuries.”

Sir Thomas nodded and both men left.

She went back into the room. Philip still sat on the side of
the bed and she went to stand in front of him.

“You gave me a terrible fright,” she said. “When I heard
there had been a mishap and it involved you…My heart went right down into my
stomach.”

He gave her a small smile and took her hand. “Would it make
you so unhappy did something happen to me? You’d then be free to be the ruling
lady of the manor again, and perhaps choose some other lord more to your
liking.”

She couldn’t tell from his tone whether he was serious or
teasing. “My lord…Philip, you must be aware by now that I’ve come to care for
you. It would distress me a great deal to lose you. In truth I can’t imagine
that any other lord could possibly be more to my liking.”

He looked up at her, his blue eyes blazing with emotion.
“And I know now how empty and joyless my life was before I came here and found
you. You’ve brought light and color and fire to me, and were I to lose it now,
the world would never seem as bright again.” He tried to stand but she put her
hands on his shoulders to hold him in place. Mary went to her knees in front of
him, which put her face a little below his. He leaned forward to kiss her. It
went on and on, a giving and taking of newly acknowledged feelings about each
other.

A knock at the door finally forced them apart. Mary bid the
knocker enter. Several servants paraded in, lugging the hip bath and buckets of
water. Others came behind. They placed the buckets on the hearth to stay warm
while they positioned the tub near the fireplace while they moved the tub into
place, then poured the water in.

Once the tub was ready they departed, after being assured by
Mary there was nothing further they need do.

Philip’s eyebrows rose. “You mean to assist me yourself,
then, Mary?”

She felt the blush rising in her cheeks. “Aye, my lord. Is
that not one of the duties of the lady of the manor? One I’ve sorely neglected
in truth, but…”

“I understood why you’d not offer it,” Philip said. “If
you’d assist me in removing my boots, I prefer to not waste the hot water.”

It took some struggle to get his boots off. She helped him
remove his belt and lift the tunic over his head, unlace his shirt, and pull it
off as well. Though it embarrassed her, she couldn’t help but stop and stare.
His chest was magnificent. Broad shoulders tapered to a much narrower waist,
padded with hard, shapely muscle. A light mat of dark, curly hair covered much
of the surface, narrowing and thinning toward his flat belly. A nasty scar cut
across his waist, shooting around his side. It looked fairly recent.

“Does the sight of my body distress you?” he asked, watching
her reaction. He stopped in the motion of loosening the laces of his trews.

“Nay,” she answered. “Quite the opposite. I’m all admiration
of your physique, Lord Philip.

“Would you prefer to turn your back for the rest?”

“Perhaps it would be—Nay, my lord. This is part of what is
between a man and a woman. If I’m to be your wife, I must learn your body.” She
walked over to touch the red line of the scar. “This isn’t very old,” she said,
tracing her fingers over it, watching his face to be sure the touch didn’t pain
him.

“Earned in the battle to defeat Sir William. “Bloo—One of
William’s men came at me from the side while I was engaged with another and
caught me this. I was fortunate he did no worse.”

“As was I,” she whispered. She pushed aside the fingers
struggling to undo the laces. A nasty red swelling swooped down his left arm,
making his use of it difficult and painful. Mary undid the knot, heatedly aware
of touching his belly in the process. She pushed the trews down his legs, and
his cock sprung free, jutting upward in salute to her.

She had tried not to look at Sir Benwyck any more than she
had to, and so had only once really seen his tool, the time when he’d jammed it
into her mouth. After she bit down on it, he never tried it again. Of course,
he’d punished her for the affront, slapping her face until her head swam.

It was this bit of the male form that had caused her
unspeakable agony from Benwyck. But then Benwyck’s hands had also caused her
pain, while Philip’s fingers brought her to peaks of pleasure. Perhaps the same
would hold true for his male part. Sir Philip’s cock was longer and more
elegantly made than Benwyck’s blunt instrument.

Philip walked over to the tub and carefully climbed in. Mary
followed, picking up the washcloth and cake of soap the servants had left
sitting on the floor.

He settled himself carefully, wincing once or twice, then
closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the side. He let out a sound
that was half sigh, half groan. Mary pulled over a stool, sat on it, soaped the
cloth, and began to run it over his chest and down his arms, careful of the
long, red swelling that trailed down the outside of his left arm. She scrubbed
longer than needed, but he seemed to be enjoying it and she liked the feel of
rubbing him. A surge of possessive longing flooded through her. She wanted him
as her husband, her friend, and her lover. She just didn’t know if the last two
were possible.

“Lean forward, Philip, and let me get your back.”

He did as she requested. From behind his shoulders looked
even broader. She enjoyed rubbing the cloth up and down across his back, moving
in long strokes, from side to side and then up and down along his spine.

“Ah, Mary, if you only knew how good that feels,” he said.

“I’m glad, Philip. Tell me what happened up there. You say a
stone fell? I’ve never before heard the tower was crumbling so badly pieces of
it were coming down.”

She continued the rubbing of his back that became more
massage than wash after a while. But he did seem to relax and feel better for
it.

“I hadn’t thought it to be in such miserable condition
either,” he admitted. “But then I haven’t looked closely at that part of the
manor. I suppose it’s possible that in digging into the stone in the wall
nearby, we shook it slightly and loosened something already close to coming
free.”

She moved to the other side of the tub and lifted first one
foot, then the other, washing toes and sole, moving up his legs as far as the
knee. “True. Did anyone look up afterward to see if anyone was up there?”

He sighed and flexed his legs to assist her. “We were all
too concerned with seeing to the injured. I knew the stone had hit William and
was worried about him.”

She heard the concern for his squire in his voice. “Brianne
is as good as there is at setting bones and treating injuries. William could
get no better care.”

He nodded.

Mary got up and moved around the tub again. “If you’ll dunk
your head, I’ll wash your hair,” she told him.

His angled, dark eyebrows rose. “Is there not another
portion of me you’ve neglected?”

“Aye, but it’s difficult for me to reach.”

Philip crooked a grin at her. “I could make it easier. Nay,
it is an awkward angle,” he admitted, watching her try to reach down. “Hand me
the cloth.”

He swiped over himself, then dunked his head below the water
for a moment. She lathered soap into his hair, working it through the curly
strands that he wore cut to just below his ears, massaging his scalp with it at
the same time. He enjoyed that, too, and she kept it up until he said, “The
water’s beginning to cool.”

He rinsed the soap out of his hair, then stood up, shaking
water off his body. She wrapped him in a drying cloth she’d set near the fire
to warm, and helped him out. He still moved stiffly, but seemed more relaxed.
He walked over to the garderobe and pulled out a long nightshirt. She helped
him pull it on over his head.

Mary rang for a servant to remove the tub.

“Have dinner sent up here tonight,” Philip requested. “I’ve
no inclination to dress again or go down to the great hall to eat.” He looked
at her. “Would you care to join me for an informal dinner here?”

“Aye, my lord,” she answered. “It would be my pleasure.”

She helped him dry his hair with a cloth and combed out the
strands, which were already starting to curl as they dried. He leaned back
against her as she sat behind him, working with the comb. A wave of tenderness
ran through her as his shoulders and back settled against her breast.

The comb stilled as a thought crossed her mind. They had
time before their meal came…

“Philip?” She hesitated, glad he had his back to her and
couldn’t see the color she could feel as a tide of heat rising in her face.

“What?” he asked after her silence went on.

“Would you show me how to touch you? What pleases you?”

He froze in place for a moment, but she couldn’t see his
face, so she didn’t know what caused that reaction.

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Mary?” He moved forward
and turned to face her. “It might lead to more than you—” He must have seen a
change in her expression. “Nay, I’ll not take you. In any way. I’ll not change
our bargain on that. You must want it enough to beg me for it. But if you touch
me, I might not be able to hold back spilling my seed.”

She sucked in a long, deep breath, fighting visions of the
past, knowing she needed to replace hideous memories of Benwyck’s actions with
remembrances of Philip’s generosity and attractions. “Aye, I want it. But I’ll
need your assistance.”

“With pleasure,” he said. “And I mean that in more than one
way.”

He stood up and helped her up with the right arm. “Come.” He
led her over to the side of his bed, pulled the long shirt up over his head,
and let it drop to the floor. He stood nude before her, allowing her to look
her fill, before he moved to lie down on the bed. His cock, which had been
flaccid and hung down when he emerged from the bath, stood erect again. “We’ll
be more comfortable here,” he said as he slid across to allow room for her
beside him.