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Master of Mayhem (The Enchanted Well #2) Chapter Five 28%
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Chapter Five

T hey clashed hard.

Modesty flinched in response. It was raw and untamed.

Fighting was barbaric, she knew that. But still, there was something inside of her cheering for Ruben. Something that liked knowing he was unwilling to relinquish her to another.

Jasper charged in, trying to lock his arms around Ruben’s belly. There was a grunt from Ruben indicating a hard impact, but he twisted to one side and got one of his arms around Jasper’s body as well. They were leaning into one another, shoving hard in an effort to push the other over.

Then Jasper suddenly switched tactics. He released Ruben and used his fist in an uppercut that connected with Ruben’s jaw. The crowd reacted with sounds of breath being sucked in through their teeth.

Ruben reeled. But he charged back at Jasper, ducking low to hit him in his midsection. Jasper went flying, ending up dumped onto the new spring grass. The crowd cheered.

Jasper wasn’t finished. He twisted and flipped over, but Ruben was on him, trying to pin him to the ground. Every second they grappled seemed to last an hour. Modesty was horrified but couldn’t have looked away if her life depended upon it.

Their teeth were bared, a primal sort of enjoyment glittering in both men’s eyes. They wanted victory, craved it, but there was something about the expression on Ruben’s face that sent a chill down Modesty’s spine. He was more intent, more determined than Jasper.

There was a crunch and a grunt from Jasper. Modesty blinked. Somehow, Ruben twisted and dropped them both to the ground. It was a hard, bone jarring landing. Jasper was straining, trying to dislodge Ruben but he was pinned.

“All right!” Jasper conceded.

Ruben held him down a few more seconds, ensuring the victory. Around them, people laughed, and the musicians began to play again. Tension lingered in the air until Ruben finally rolled away. He gained his feet with a flash of his bare backside when the pleats of his kilt went swaying.

Heat went coursing through Modesty, settling at last in her belly. It was a shocking sensation. One she wasn’t really sure of the meaning of, only that it was deeply sensual.

And centered on Ruben.

He offered his hand to Jasper. Everyone watched intently, waiting to see if Jasper would take it. Conversation died away while Jasper took his time deciding. At last, he stuck his hand out, clasping wrists with Ruben.

Ruben turned toward her, his expression changing instantly. When their gazes locked, Modesty felt as if the world around them receded, leaving them on an island where there was nothing except for one another.

“Claim your May queen!” someone yelled. “May she grow round!”

Modesty blinked, stunned by the scarlet suggestion. People laughed, gripping her arms in some attempt to escort her to the chosen bridegroom. Everyone was pressing in on her, making her feel trapped.

“Back to yer dancing!” Ruben commanded them all.

He didn’t wait to see if they complied. Ruben strode toward her, gasping her hand and tugging her away behind him. A cheer went up, but everyone seemed to be happy to allow them to leave. The trapped feeling receded with every step she took away from the oak tree. The music fading into the distance, allowing her to hear the soft brush of their steps against the spring grass.

Ahead of them, there was another tree decorated with ribbons. This was a smaller one with a blanket spread out beneath its branches. Without a doubt it was a bridal chamber for the May queen and her consort.

And Ruben was intent on taking her straight to it.

*

Temperance started after her sister.

A hard grip on her forearm stopped her. She whirled around to find Jasper holding her back.

“Let’s leave those two to the tradition of being alone,” Jasper said firmly.

“It isn’t proper,” Temperance answered him.

Instead of appearing rebuked, Jasper’s expression became one of enjoyment. “But it is the tradition of the morning, is it not, mistress? The rosy hue staining your sister’s cheeks says she is very happy with her circumstances.”

Modesty was blushing.

And so was she. Temperance caught her breath because Jasper was watching her.

“You, sir, are incorrigible.”

Her words pleased him. He performed a very polished reverence.

“That shouldn’t please you,” Temperance muttered but there was an unmistakable hint of enjoyment in her tone. How strange was that?

“What Rakehell wouldn’t enjoy knowing he is performing precisely as the gossips say he always does?”

“Rakehell?” Temperance questioned.

Jasper nodded. “Who am I to argue with the rumors? Or to deprive the court of their zeal for blackening names?”

His tone tightened, hinting at some very deep resentment of his circumstances.

“Well, you are the one who suffers the bad name,” Temperance answered. “If you are innocent…”

“I am no innocent, mistress,” Jasper assured her dryly.

He really wasn’t and yet, Temperance discovered that she had an impulse to defend him. “I do not believe you are without merit, sir.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. For a fleeting moment, she thought she caught a flicker of appreciation in his eyes before he offered her a grin that she recognized as being a facade. One he hid his true emotions behind.

“I doubt you are acquainted with very many Rakehells,” Jasper taunted her.

“There is no need to mock me,” Temperance said. “You are here, very far away from London, the traditional place for Rakehells.”

This time, when his eyes narrowed, it was in contemplation of her. “It would seem you and I have banishment in common.”

They did. Temperance felt a new sensation move through her. This one was far more personal, linking her in some strange, mysterious way to Jasper.

She liked that. Being connected to him. But she wasn’t sure if she should enjoy the sensation or not. It was strange the way she questioned if it was correct to enjoy the way she felt when there was nothing she might do about it.

Honesty was the best path after all.

So she smiled at Jasper. This time, when his lips curled up in an answering smile, she knew it for a true expression of enjoyment.

One she was proud to have earned from him.

*

Modesty pulled her hand free from Ruben’s grip.

For just a moment, his fingers remained tight around her wrist. On his face, there was an expression of refusal. A little tingle shot down her spine in response, but he released her wrist before Modesty had the chance to think about the sensation.

“Would ye have preferred Jasper?”

Modesty shook her head immediately. Ruben grinned in response.

“That does not mean I approve of your fighting,” she was quick to say.

“If ye enjoy the outcome, then ye have no place critiquing the method of getting what ye like,” Ruben argued pointedly.

Ruben sat down on the length of wool that was spread out on the ground beneath the decorated limbs of the oak tree. A basket was sitting there with a creamy linen cover. He plucked it off to revel a generous offering of food.

Ruben lifted a mug that was sitting next to the basket. He considered her over the rim of the pottery mug. “I would fight any other man who thought to be here with ye.”

He drew a sip off the mug. But he continued to watch her, gauging her reaction.

“You are…challenging me.” Modesty decided on the right word after a slight hesitation.

Ruben lowered the mug. “I am daring ye to sit down here beside me.”

“Do you think I won’t do it because my family is Puritan?” Modesty asked incredulously. Her heart had suddenly started beating faster.

“Yer sister goes by Braylin now, not the Puritan name she left here using,” Ruben stated. “What name do ye want me to call ye this fine May Day morning?”

“Sabine.”

Modesty spoke without thinking. It had been so long since she’d heard her previous name, it sounded strange even to her. But answering his dare made heat flicker to life inside of her.

“Now that is a fine name, Sabine.” Ruben took another sip from the mug. He sat it down and gestured to her. “Come here, lass. According to yer sister, this is yer last morning of being able to be Sabine.”

It was.

Modesty was already on her way onto the blanket before she finished thinking. Perhaps later she would contemplate just why she seemed to be so full of impulses, but not now. She just couldn’t bear to squander the opportunity before her.

Tomorrow, Modesty was getting married.

And not to Ruben Lindsey.

That thought made her blush. Without a doubt, she admitted she would feel very differently if her groom were the man grinning at her.

Ruben handed her a mug. “It’s fine cider, lass. Someone must have been saving it for this morning.”

Sure enough, the cider did indeed have a pleasing scent of fall apples and a hint of spices. Modesty closed her eyes to better appreciate the scent before she lifted it to her lips and drew off a sip.

Ruben chuckled. “Aye, it’s worthy of the May queen and her consort.”

Modesty’s eyes popped open in response to the word consort. She ended up staring straight into Ruben’s eyes.

“You shouldn’t say such bold things,” she muttered.

Ruben scoffed at her. “I am just the way ye like me, lass.”

“You are overly bold, sir.”

Ruben had started to put a piece of cheese into his mouth. He stopped short, one dark eyebrow arching in response. “Overly bold?”

Modesty nodded firmly.

He put the cheese into his mouth and chewed, clearly thinking. Modesty discovered herself full of anticipation while he decided upon his response to her accusation. Ruben made her wait for what felt like an eternity, taking a long drink from his cider before he pointed at her.

“Bold, now that I agree with, lass. But overly bold…well now, I do nae believe I have crossed that line just yet.”

Something glittered in his eyes. A promise of some sort. Modesty was mesmerized by it, so much so that she failed to realize he’d reached for her wrist.

She gasped. He carried her hand toward him, turning it so that the delicate skin of her inner wrist was exposed. She saw that glint in his eyes again before he lowered his gaze and his head. He pressed a soft, slow kiss against her inner wrist while Modesty shuddered.

He felt that reaction. Ruben lifted his head to lock gazes with her once more.

“Now that is overly bold…Sabine.”

He released her wrist, returning to the mug of cider. Modesty got her mug to her lips first, tipping it so that cider filled her mouth. Swallowing so much at once was hard and when she lowered the mug, she found Ruben watching her with a little pleased grin on his lips.

“Was that meant as a lesson or a promise?” Modesty was sure she would be old and withered by the time she understood just why she asked such a question. Her cheeks were burning because of her own audacity but she felt more alive than she ever had.

Ruben’s expression became serious. He abandoned his lazy position, getting to his feet. He turned and offered her a hand.

Again.

“Come north with me, Sabine.” There was a hint of heat in his tone. Somewhere inside of her, she felt a flicker of answering heat.

Modesty’s knuckles turned white because she was clenching handfuls of her skirt to keep her hand from his.

“To what end?” she asked. “Surely you have a family with expectations for you and your future. Just as I do.”

She didn’t want to say those words for it was like she was pinching out a candle. Sentencing herself to darkness.

Ruben lowered himself to one knee next to her. His face was so close to hers, she felt awareness of him shoot through her body. Never in her life would she have believed she might feel such intensity. His jaw was tight.

Would he kiss her? In his eyes, she saw something flickering. Her belly tightened in response.

Everything about him seemed to draw a response from her. She was completely mesmerized by him.

“Aye. Ye are wiser than I am to think of more than what we both feel now. I am ashamed, for ye are a proper lass.”

“You feel it too?”

Ruben grinned. “Aye, lass. The truth is I believe I will remember what ye stir in me for my entire life.”

“I will too,” she confessed.

The blanket had suddenly become the most sacred of confessionals. Modesty knew without a doubt that she had never bared her soul so very completely to any other person.

He laid his hand along the side of her face. No touch had ever felt so very right or pleased her so completely.

“Forgive me, Sabine, for I cannot resist ye.”

She didn’t misunderstand his meaning. Modesty knew he was intent on kissing her. The breath in her lungs simply froze while he leaned toward her. The first touch of his lips was soft and warm and more intoxicating than anything she had ever experienced. Her eyes closed shut, clearing the path for her other senses to intensify.

His scent overwhelmed her senses, making her head swim. She reached for him, needing to steady herself. Ruben caught her up against his frame, the kiss deepening. She craved him, needing to be closer. He bound her to him with one strong arm around her back while she reached up and held onto his shoulders.

How long did it go on? Modesty had no idea, only that she was enthralled and happily so.

But everything had to end.

“Go on with ye, lass,” Ruben ordered her gruffly. “For if ye stay, I fear we shall both abandon reason.”

He was correct.

And she had never loathed the truth so very much before!

Pulling away from him hurt. Every inch of her body protested. Just a few paces and she could see past him to where the little work shed sat. Its shutters still closed tight against the May Day morning frivolity. Ruben turned to see what she was looking at.

“You will not be needing this crown, Sabine.”

Ruben lifted the crown of heather and greens off her head. It was a gentle motion, but she let out a little sound of misery for it felt as if he’d taken her very heart. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet before he disappeared into the thicket.

The wind blew, rushing the limbs of the trees that had yet to sprout with new growth. It was a dry sound, one that heralded a future that was brittle and cold.

*

He had the heather, so it was time to leave.

But he couldn’t. Instead, he stood in the forest, watching Modesty and her sister go to the shed and disappear inside.

“A little token to remember your May queen?”

Ruben growled at Jasper, but the man had managed to sneak up on him. The Englishman wasn’t going to let it go without comment either.

“I do hope that isn’t all you claimed from her,” Jasper continued.

“Modesty is an innocent lass,” Ruben warned Jasper. “Mind how ye speak of her.”

Jasper wrinkled his nose. “Modesty…Temperance…horrible names better suited for horse-faced blue stockings. Not at all what I would want to call a girl who kissed you so very sweetly in yon arbor.”

“Just remember who she kissed,” Ruben said. “It was nae ye.”

“I could have fought harder,” Jasper argued.

Ruben grunted, making it clear that he didn’t agree.

Jasper snorted. “You should thank me. I’m not normally so very accommodating. Not when there is such a sweet prize to claim.”

“I’m thinking of thrashing ye again, but yer skull is too thick to recall the first time so…it would be a wasted effort,” Ruben said gruffly. “Modesty is a not some lass to be treated lightly. Do nae trifle with her or her sister.”

Ruben meant the warning sincerely. He felt the burn of it all the way to his bones.

Jasper turned his head to look at him. “If you care about the girl, you should take her back to Scotland with you.”

Ruben felt his insides clench. “Why do ye say that? The girl is set to get married tomorrow. She has a good life ahead of her.”

Jasper’s expression was dark. “Our queen Mary Tudor has spent a great many years beneath the thumb of those around her. Now that the crown sits on her head, she is intent on ruling with just as much of an iron fist as those who held her fate in their hands in the past.”

“Is that why ye are here? So far from the city where yer clothing is more fitting?” Ruben asked directly.

Jasper chuckled. He smoothed a hand along the fine fabric of his doublet. Wool would be more practical, but clothing took time to create, and his wardrobe had been made for court.

“I am in exile like the Hawlyn family,” Jasper confirmed. “But I do not see much difference between the faiths, so I am content to be obedient to the queen’s decree of returning to the Roman Catholic faith. From what I have seen of Martin Hawlyn, that man will not abandon his faith. Even if it means his life.”

Jasper watched his words sink into Ruben.

“Queen Mary has taken matters that far?” Ruben asked.

Jasper nodded. “I believe she is just getting started. The new garrison of soldiers in the village proves how much determination she has. The queen believes she will only bear a heathy male child if God is pleased with her.”

Which meant Modesty and her family would soon face the wrath of the queen of England.

Unless he intervened.

Her mother had already lost one daughter to Scotland. Wouldn’t he be a scoundrel to take Modesty away?

How much greater would his sin be if he left and heard that Martin Hawlyn had led his entire family to the execution grounds?

“I am grateful to ye, Jasper Hardwin.” Ruben offered Jasper his hand. “Ye are welcome on Lindsey land.”

Jasper clasped wrists with Ruben.

A moment later he was heading toward the shed. Just how he was going to convince Modesty to come with him, Ruben didn’t know. But leaving her behind was impossible now.

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