At His Command-Historical Romance Version by Ruth Kaufman Read Free Book Online Page B

finger in surprise.
    “What is it?”
    Amice’s hand flew to her side. “Just a small tear. I can mend it.”
    Nicholas pulled the shirt over his head and turned to hand it to her. They were alone in her bedroom and he was shirtless. They stood, staring at each other, the shirt still in his outstretched hand. The sound of her breathing seemed loud in the quiet room.
    His hair, a few shades darker than hers, shone as the rising sun streamed through the window. She couldn’t ignore the lure of his blue eyes. His scent, now familiar and welcome, floated into her senses. A simple need brought him to her. Suddenly mundane sewing turned into something special.
    It seemed natural for them to be standing so close.
    Amice had seen him shirtless from afar, and thought that was wonderful. But it was nothing compared to him up close. She saw the contours of each muscle, the black hair on his chest, the breadth of his shoulders. His chest rose and fell with each breath, making her want to lay her head against it to know the warmth of his skin, hear the beat of his heart.
    She couldn’t meet his gaze any longer, so she looked down. A mistake, for she wound up gaping at his lower half. His legs were encased in tight cotton hose and worn thigh-high leather boots. Without a shirt or tunic, his powerful thighs were on display. As was the outline of his manhood. Her cheeks flushed.
    What would he do if she touched him? Could she be so bold? She moved her hand toward him, anticipating the feel of his skin against hers.
    “Amice, I’ve wanted to tell you something.” She froze as he looked at his feet. Swallowed. What was making such a confident, well-spoken man hesitate? “I—”
    Robert raced into the room at full speed and ran straight into Nicholas.
    “Oof!” Nicholas caught his balance before toppling onto her.
    “Oh, here you are,” Robert said. “I didn’t hear you awaken. I went to the stables and Merlin was still there, I went to the hall, the bailey….”
    Amice bit back a smile. Robert worried his hero would leave and do something exciting without him. Confusion wrinkled his brow, perhaps because the two of them had been alone in her chamber. But he was too well-mannered to ask questions.
    Amice glanced at Nicholas. The mood was broken. What might have happened had Robert not interrupted them? What might either of them have said or done? She yearned to know.
    “I tore my shirt and brought it to Lady Amice to repair.” Nicholas ruffled the lad’s hair.
    Amice fetched her sewing basket from her coffer. After preparing a length of thread and a needle, she took the shirt from Nicholas and set to work. She tried to focus on the torn fabric, resisting the temptation to look at him instead.
    Ginelle poked her head into the room, her red hair tucked demurely into a simple headdress.
    “Oh!” she exclaimed, her eyes opening wide as she took in the scene before her. “Oh,” she repeated, noticing Robert behind Nicholas. “Maia wanted to know how much white bread you wanted her to make today.”
    “I’ll speak to her in a few minutes.”
    Ginelle nodded and left.
    Amice turned to Robert. “Don’t you have lessons with Father Heydon this morning?”
    The guilty look on his face answered the question. He dutifully started toward the door. “What are you doing today, Sir Nicholas?”
    “If Father Heydon tells me you worked hard on your studies, you may come hunting with me this afternoon.”
    Robert’s face brightened and he ran off.
    They were alone again. What had he been about to say? She wanted to tell him how she felt, because she might not have another opportunity. But what purpose would it serve? If she knew he felt the same, each glance, each word would be bittersweet. Maybe the knowing would bring them closer together. But again, to what purpose…to be wrenched apart when she was handed to another?
    Amice broke the thread. That’s all that held them. A mere thread of interest. No point trying to strengthen