Chapter 3.
...
The cliffs were dizzyingly high, and below them the gray sea prowled and snarled. Noah and Rachel set their horses at a gallop over the tufts of grass, startling the birds and a few egg-gathering villagers. The wild setting reminded Noah of Rachel's family home, in Normandy, where the same sea also crashed against the cliffs.
Perhaps, Noah thought, that was why she loved Gunlinghorn, and perhaps that was why she was so content with her life here.
Althought not completely content, he reminded himself as he paused to catch his breath. Not if she wished to remarry. Finn's image shimmered in his mind, half forgotten, dark haired and dark eyes, his face scarred from smallpox. In character, Finn had been a little like Noah, confident, but not so smart, and brash. But his passage through life had been far easier; he had grown up under King Schuester's shadow and protection and had not had to battle against Noah's odds.
Rachel's mother had wanted her daughter to marry Finn when she was still very young, but Rachel would not have him. Finn had married elsewhere, but the woman had died without any children to show for their union. So Finn had cast his eye about again, and this time Rachel had decided to be more amenable. She had fallen in love with him, and so she married him.
Noah had no doubts at the time that Finn loved her, too. He had even believed that Finn would be faithful to her-or maybe he'd just hoped so. But of course he hadn't been.
During their marriage there had been other women, lots of them, but at least Finn had kept the knowledge of them from his wife. How could she, safe at Gublinghorn, have known what her husband was up to elsewhere? There had been times when Finn's careless behaviour had angered Noah, and he had struggled hard to hide the facts from Rachel. It had been she he'd thought of everytime he'd lied or tidied away Finn's mess. Not Finn.
And would you have behaved differently? The voice in his head mocked him. If you had been wed to Rachel, would you have been true to her and only her?
Possibly not. Probably not, he corrected himself. But then he would never have allowed himself to be placed into a position where he could hurt her , would he?
A gull soared above him, screeching, and then diving, sending his thoughts tumbling along with it. The sea air blew cold against his face, stinging in his eyes, tugging at his clothing, and yet he felt very much alive. And carefree. Here at Gunlinghorn there was nothing to do, no one to see, no rumors to track down or unravel, no plots to untangle, no assasins to fear. It had been a long time since Noah had felt so unfettered by worldly cares.
He was not sure he trusted it. Rachel was also deep in her own thoughts, though hers were more prosaic. In her head, she was counting up the carefully packed barrels of salted meat in her storeroom, and wondering if they would last through until spring. She did not doubt thet would, not really, for she was a careful housekeeper. But winter was a season for taking stock of what they had, and what would be needed for Gunlinghorn in the year ahead. Rachel had many souls dependant upon her good management, and she did not mean to fail them.
Finn never understood that, or perhaps he just had not cared as much as she. He was like Noah, preferring the life and liveliness of court and the king's company and, she had discovered, the easy women to be found there. Domestic bliss was not for Finn, it seemed, and yet she had been too besotted and trusting to see it. Never again. She would never place herself in such a position again.
The wheeling gull caused her to look up too. And as she did, a snowflake fluttered down and melted upon her cheek. They had ridden far today, almost to the farthest edge of her lands, and suddenly she realised that the weather was closing in. The threatenlingly dark clouds she had seen earlier were almost upon them. Already a thick mist hung low over the hills to the north, lapping at the forewst that lay between then and the saftey of the vale of Gunlinghorn.
Soon the storm would be surging in to cover them all. She had been so lost in dreams that she had failed to notice the approaching danger.
"We must go home," she said sharply and glanced over her shoulder at Noah. "There is snow coming, and lots of it."
Noah too was frowning at the heavy clouds. Snow was beginning to fall more quickly now.
"Hurry then," he replied and met her eyes. "Lead the way, Rach, and I will follow."
She gave a brief nod and, without another word, headed into the forest. The air grew swiftly colder, and as hard as they rode, they could not outrun the snow. Thick, blinding snow.
Rachel felt her body growing chilled, her feet turning to ice, and feared that soon they would be unable to continue. That was when she saw the old tree, the gnarled and twisted oak, rising tall above its younger brethren. And she realized she was much closer to Uther's tower than she had been aware.
Uther's tower was a place used mainly in the warmer months by the woodsmen who cared for Gunlinghotn forests. However, there were times when her people used it for shelter in the winter, so it was kept in good order all year round. They would be safe there, and surely it made sense to wait out this storm in relative comfort.
She felt a tingle of doubt. As if she was about to make a decision that would have far-reaching consequences...
"Rachel?" Noah's voice was behind her, his face grim and white with cold, his eyes narrowed against the weather. "We cannot stop here," he shouted. "We must find shelter!"
Noah was depending upon her, Rachel reminded herself. He trusted her to get them to safety. He was following her, just as he had promised to do. She owed it to him not to fail.
"There is shelter. There!" She called back, and pointed through the stark trees. Noah nodded to show he had heard, and urged his tired horse after her, ducking his head beneath the bare branched, once again letting her lead the way.
Uther's tower rose stark before them. A squat tower gave the building its name, and attached was a solid cottage structure, made of a mixture of timber and stone. It looked as If it had simply sprung up from the ground. There was already a thick coating of new snow upon the jagged outline, and more piled up in front of the low door.
Noah dismounted, quickly using both his hands to clear enough spoace of the snow out of the doorway so that they could open the door and enter. He looked back at her. "Come on!" He said, with a frwon. "You'll freeze to death!"
He was right, she knew it. And yet she had a sense of risking all, of burning her bridges, of stepping into the unknown...
Rachel followed him inside. It was hushed out of the storm. For a moment Rachel blinked, seeing onl darkness, and then slowly her sight grew accustomed to the gloomy interior of the building. There was but a single room, with an earthen floor and some clean straw tossed into a heap against one wall.
Wood had been piled neatly, and while Noah stabled their horses in the lean-to at the back of the tower, Rachel began to make a fire.
Her hands were frozen now, as well as her feet, and when the wood finally caught with a lick of flame, she sank down beside it with a grateful whimper. By the time Noah returned, his cloak heavy with snow, the wood was well ablaze and giving off some heat.
"I did not pay enough heed to the weather," she confessed, giving him an apologetic look as he fastened the door. "I saw the storm approaching, but I was enjoying myself too much, and I thought we had time-"
He untied the laces of his cloak and swung it off, laying it over the woodpile to dry.
"So was I. Enjoying myself, I mean." Noah came and stood by the fire, looking across the flames at her. He seemed to be searching her face, reading her thoughts, and then he gave a wicked smile. "We were the same when we were children, remember? Riding out together and forgetting ourselves. Your mother was always scoldind. We are equally at fault, Rachel, but we are safe here now. And in such luxurious lodgings. What is this place?"
"Uther's tower. We don't really know who Uther was, but legend says he was a long-ago king of this part of England. I think he was a Briton, holding his lands against the Romans. He built this tower as a warning to them not to come any farther. One of the stories tells of his love for the wife of a captain of a Roman Legion. This may even have been where the lovers met."
Noah raised his eyebrows. "It's not very romantic."
"Yes it is." She retorted, refusing to be annoyed with his skepticism.
"I could think of better places to meet," he went on, glancing around the room. "There isn't even a comfortable bed."
Rachel shook her head at him in disgust. "They were in love, Noah. It's a state of mind."
"Like lunacy?"
She tried to smile, but suddenly she was just too cold. Even though the fire was now crackling pleasantly, she couldn't seem to get warm. There wasn't enough heat to counteract the intense cold that had already entered her body and was still seeping into the building from the snowstorm raging outside.
With a frown, Noah moved to kneel by her side. "Are your feet cold?"
"I cannot feel them at all." Despite her furs, Rachel shook and shivered.
"Here, then." He reached to take her boots in his hand, swiftly moving them and arranging them by the fire to dry. Her stockinged feet were very cold, and his hands were so warm...they felt wonderful. He set about rubbing each of them to the warmth, toes, heel and instep. Next he set to work on her hands, pink with cold beneath her gloves.
His face was creased with concentration as he performed his task, and his touch was impersonal and thorough, yet gentle. He was doing what needed to bew done, but Rachel did not feel like and object, far from it. She felt cheerished; there was something very agreeable in his touch, something very comforting, almost sensuous...
Rachel was aware of her whole body relaixing, growing languid with pleasure of Noah ministering to her.
"Thank you, Noah," she said softly. "You are very good to me."
Noah looked up at her, the firelight dancing in his hazel eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?" He mocked. "We are old friends aren't we?"
He looked very appealing, and very handsome. Why, thought Rachel in surprise, he is like a stranger! If she had not remembered this was the man she had known forever, her childhood compabion, she would have been as foolishly attracted to him as any other woman...but she was attracted to him.
"Are you still cold?" Noah demanded, a crease of worry between his brows. He reached again to clasp her hands, her fingers strong and sure. There was a crooked white scar on the back on one of them, and suddenly she thought; I do not know how he came by that scar.
And at the same time she realised that there were many things she did not know about Noah. In her arrogance she had believed she knew everything there was to know about him. The truth was, she didn't. She couldn't. And maybe it was not safe to do so.
"Rachel?" He was watching her, waiting for thr answer to his question, puzzled by her silence.
She turned her thoughts away from this new, dangerous direction, and managed a pale smile. "I am still cold...that is, a little."
His frown deepened. Was his annoyance with her or the weather? Before she could ask the question, he lifted her cloak so that it enfolded them both, his arm sliding under the furred lining. He drew her in, close, to hois side, and pressed her head gently down onto his shoulder. Surprise kept her from protesting, and then, when he tightened his hold about her, pleasure stopped her from moving away. Yes, she was enjoying it, enjoying being completely enclose. By Noah.
"You will soon be warm," he murmured, and his breath stirred her hair, brushed against her skin. Her heart quickened withing her breast, and her blood seemed to melt, turning her insides into a river of heat.
Rachel heard her inner voice sound a warning. Run for your life! It said. She ignored it, just as she had ignored the danger of the storm clouds. Noah was her friend, her oldest friend, but as she listened to his voice rumble deep in his chest, and the easy beat of his heart, her usual equilibrium tottered into a quivering mess. The truth was, she liked his body, so hard and warm against hers, and the strong band of his arm about her waist.
Rachel shivered again, but it wasn't from the cold. No, she was getting warm, far, far too warm, and all from touching Noah. Indeed she was ready for marriage; until now she had not realized how her body missed the contact of a man...
"Rach?" Noah sounded concerned. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up. He was watching her, staring down into her face. Their gazes tangled, played games. Rachel slid the tip of her tongue along her lip, meaning to moisten its dryness, but instead the movement made him catch his breath.
In an instant he was alert, his body tense. She knew he could see something of her feelings in her face. She was sure her need was written plain in her eyes.
Oh, what was happening to her? Her heart began to beat hard in her chest, and the inner voice said, this is wrong, this is wrong, stop it now. And yet she could not seem to pull away from him. Not even to save her life could she pull away from the grip of whatever had her as its prisoner. Deep inside she knew she did not even want to.
And then Noah made a sound very like a groan of pain, and dipped his head and kissed her.
Noah's mouth was hot, while his lips were cold. The combination was astonishingly delicious. Rachel, at first surprised to move, found her own mouth respinding, found herself kissing him back. He was so familiar, and yet so different. He was Noah, and yet he was not the Noah she knew, had thought she knew. Someone she had imagined to be vtery familiar seemed to have altered beyond all recognition. But he was still Noah.
Rachel pulled back with a shaken laugh, putting her fingers to her lips. He was staring down at her, breathing fast, and behind the confusion she saw in his eyes, mirroring her own, was desire. Hot, burning desire. It shook her to the core of her being. It jolted her back to the here and now, and out of whatever fantasy she had just strayed into.
"I don't know what it happening, Noah," she said in a trembling voice, and it was no more than the truth.
"I kissed you," Noah said and turned away, moving to throw more wood upon their fire. Rachel felt a chill with the lack of him. Her body still trembled, but was that cold or something more? she no longer trusted herself to know the difference. Her senses had betrayed her.
"I cannot believe you have never been kissed before, Rach," Noah added, and his familiar mockery stung.
Rachel forced a husky laugh. "Is that all it was? A kiss between old friends? It felt like more." that sounded like a question, and she immediately wished it back.
But Noah was busy with the fire, and there was nothing in his manner that confirmed what she believed she had seen in his eyes. Desire? For me? No! She had been mistaken. Noah did not desire her, why would he? They were friends, nothing more, and he had plenty of women to sate his needs. The simple truth was that she had probably looked so cold and miserable and Noah, being the kind man he was, had kissed her to warm her up!
Noah arranged another cut of wood on the fire, concentrating on it as if his life depended upon it. Behind him, he could feel her puzzlement and her uncertainty, and he cursed himself. Why had he kissed her? the fact that she looked so kissable, so delectable, should not have any effect on him. He had never desired Rachel. She was the one woman he had always felt safe with, the one woman with whom he had never felt a need to prove himself.
Why in God's name had that suddenly changed? But it hadn't, Noah insisted to himself. Nothing had changed. It had been a momentary aberration, and now it had passed. He glanced at her over his shoulder, noting her wet, straggling hair and cold, pinched face. See, not a flicker of desire, he told himself proudly. And then he looked at her again.
She really was soggy. Her gown was soaked and clinging to her, her arms were wrapped about her body with her fingers tucked under her arms, as if seeking warmth, her feet in the damp stockings were as close to the fire as she could bear them.
"You need to take off your wet clothes," he said matter-of-factly. "My cloak is almost dry now. You can use that to cover yourself until your own dries."
Something deep in his mind was jumping about, waving its arms and shouting, but he didn't heed it. A warning? What warning? He needed no warning. This was Rachel, remember? Rachel needed his help, and he had never failed before.
Rachel cocked her head to one side, as if she heard the warning too. "I don't know Noah…."
"You will freeze to death Rachel. You do want to get home to Gunlinghorn, and eventually wed your Martin, do you not?"
Perhaps it was mention of her bridegroom that did it, or perhaps it was the matter-of-factness in Noah's tone. Rachel felt herself relax as her fears receded. It was just that, after that kiss, she felt a little uneasy with him. Another sensation she had never experienced in Noah's presence before.
Don't be silly. This is Noah. I need to get warm or I really will get ill. It is foolish to be prudish with a man I have known most of my life.
With a shrug, she reached under her cloak and began to unfasten the damp laces at the neck of her gown with stiff, uncooperative fingers. Noah watched her sideways, pretending he wasn't. when he could bear her fumblings no longer, he sighed loudly and, crawling across to her, pushed her fingers aside and quickly unknotted the laces.
He undid the cloak, too, and pulled it from her shoulders. "There, now take your things off, and I will fetch my cloak for you." But again he hesitated, eyeing her damp feet, then he briskly began to remove her stockings from where they were tied above her knees. He pretended the legs he was uncovering were not slim and very attractive; he sensed that if he stopped for a moment to consider what he was doing he might as well be in trouble.
"Now," he said, as she thanked him gravely, "take off the rest."
He went to fetch his cloak, bringing it to her before laying out her own cloak and stockings on the woodpile. Then he returned to the fire and sat with is back to her. very soon a bare arm stretched out and dropped the remained of her garments beside him. He noted them. Her gown and a warm woolen chemise and another, silken one to be worn close to her skin. Noah proceeded to deal with them as matter-of-factly as the rest.
If his fingers noted that the last chemise was soft and clinging, and retained the scent of her skin, he told himself not to dwell upon it. And if his head felt a little dizzy, as if he were becoming intoxicated, he told himself it was the smoke.
When at last he had finished his task, and found the courage to turn again to Rachel, she was sitting on her side of the fire, small within the folds of his much larger cloak, her hair spread over her back and shoulders to dry. Her side of the fire? When had it become necessary to separate them like this? When he had needed to put distance between them? This was Rachel, his friend, his sweety…and her hands were shaking as she held them to the flames. And yet he hesitated. He played for time.
"We are still like children," he said, and smiled, "Too busy playing our games to notice the weather closing in."
"we always were a b-bad influence on each other." Rachel's teeth were chattering now, though she strove up to keep them still. "R-remember how my mother was always trying to s-separate us?"
"She never could. We always found a way to sneak past her watchful eyes." His smiled turned grim at the memories-perhaps his recollections were different from Rachel's. it was true, her mother never like him, she'd have a way of pursing her mouth when she'd looked at him, as if he'd reeked of some odor only she could smell. But Rachel had been indifferent to her mother's threats and warnings, preferring to make up her own mind.
In those days she'd believe Noah could do no wrong, and in repayment for her loyalty he had led her into much mischief. He would not have blamed her if she had abandoned him to his own company, but she never had. Rachel had remained his loyal friend.
"You were always very kind to me, Rachel. Probably far kinder than I deserved."
She looked at him in the firelight, and her brown eyes glowed within the golden lights. "Oh Noah," she said softly, "you were such a sweet little boy. I could no more given you up than…my best pony."
He chuckled at the comparison, but his heart swelled. She had loved him, and he her, there was no denying it, but time had moved on and they had grown. He had done things he would not wish her to know about, lived a life far beyond her world, while she had in turn become a wife and a mother to Finn's son, and the Lady of Gunlinghorn. They were as far apart as the moon and the sun, but still that long-ago bond remained, tying them together.
She was his lodestone, he realized, his center. Her needed her to remind him of his origins, of who he really was. He needed to see the warmth and admiration her eyes to continue to believe in himself.
With lithe grace, Noah stood and moved back to her side of the fire. It was fate, he told himself, what happened next. It was not up to him, or her. Perhaps it was this place, Uther's tower. He slipped his arm about her and drew her in against his body and his warmth. She was shaking, and he murmured in sympathy, and put his other arm about her, so that he could hold her tight against his chest. When she still shook he lifted her onto his lap, and held her there, curled within his arms. Her damp hair tickled his nose and he burrowed into it, enjoying her fragrance.
"Am I still sweet?" he asked her at last, more for something to ease the awkward moment than because he needed to know.
Rachel managed a giggle, and he felt her icy fingertips creep up and flutter against his cheek. "Of course, Noah. You will always be s-sweet. To m-me."
He looked down at her with a raised brow. She smiled, her face pale and naked within the heavy mass of her her hair young. Vulnerable. Defenseless. And yet her body was so soft curled against his; he could feel her breasts though the cloak, where they pressed against his arm he had wrapped about her. the nipples were hard little nubs from the cold. He wanted to warm them with his mouth.
He closed his eyes, but that was no good either. He could feel the soft roundedness of her bottom resting upon his groin. In a moment she would feel him growing hard. But he couldn't help it. He should move away from her, but he didn't want to. She felt so good, and he didn't want to.
"Noah?"
She sounded uncertain. He opened his eyes and found her gazing up at him, and now Noah understood what the warning deep inside him had been about. And realized that he should have heeded it. But it was too late.
Rachel knew it too, her brown eyes clouded as they gazed into his, and she opened her mouth to speak. To tell him no? Noah did not know. He was already bending down to claim her lips.
If she had been about to refuse him, she had changed her mind, because before he reached her mouth she had lifted her own, when they joined their lips together, it was mutual. And this time there would be no stopping.
A/N: sorry for keeping you guys waiting so long. The next chapter would be very…hot…or that's what I think. Lemme know what you thought of this chapter! Until next time (: