Sword for His Lady Page 14

  She had dark rings around her eyes from the hours of sleeplessness her frustrations had brought her. The days grew longer, but her longings didn’t diminish.

  “Lady.”

  It was a full fortnight later when Ramon’s squire found her working in the stillroom. The youth looked taller than he had the first time she’d seen him, if that were possible. He was lanky but there was a faint growth of beard on his face.

  He lowered himself. “My lord would have you attend him.” The squire straightened and stood with his arm outstretched toward the yard.

  It was early afternoon. Ramon had spent every hour supervising the training of his men and the construction of the new keep.

  Isabel dusted her hands on her apron, removed it, and hung it on a hook set into the wall. She smiled when she reached the steps of the keep, tipping her head back to enjoy the warmth of the sun on her cheeks. Only at the end of the summer would the keep’s stone warm completely through.

  “My lady?” the squire inquired.

  Isabel opened her eyes and lifted the front of her robes to descend the steps to the yard. It was two hundred feet to where the ground had been cleared for the new keep. Ramon stood atop the foundation. Isabel froze again, stunned by the sight of him and what he’d accomplished. He looked majestic, a portrait of strength and control. He had accomplished a lot in a mere two weeks. The new keep’s foundation was five feet higher than Thistle Keep’s foundation.

  Ramon turned and offered her his hand. “Come, Isabel. See what we can create together.”

  She took his hand and climbed onto the structure. She gasped at the expanse of stone. The foundation was twenty feet wider than Thistle Keep’s. Already, two feet of the walls were in place.

  “This hall will be large enough for all our people.”

  “And it could not have been built without both of our resources.” She marveled at the way the stones were fitted so well together. There were vats of fresh mortar, which smelled of lye. Ramon’s men helped carry the heavy stones up the steps, where the master masons were waiting with the tools to make certain the stone was placed level.

  “Aye,” Ramon answered her. “Together, we are strong.”

  His grip tightened. She turned and caught his gaze. “There will be a new chamber in this tower for you.”

  “My chamber is sufficient.”

  “It will be our chamber, Isabel. A place where only the two of us have ever been.”

  Something moved through her and she realized it was happiness.

  When had she stopped being happy?

  Ramon reached out and stroked her chin. “Tell me your thoughts.”

  Did she dare?

  She suddenly felt bold. “I enjoy having you here.”

  His eyes narrowed with pleasure. He maintained his firm expression, but he hooked his hand into his belt, and she saw his knuckles turn white.

  “Wed me.”

  His tone was short but she heard the passion. Or maybe she felt it. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she had ever completely cooled.

  “I am considering it.”

  He groaned. “I am not a man practiced in the arts of courtship. Be merciful. Two weeks feels like an eternity.”

  She was suddenly giddy again. Full of an excitement that warmed her cheeks and made it impossible not to smile. “I have never been courted, either. Yet—” She opened her arms wide and pointed at the new foundation. “I admit your efforts warm my heart.”

  “Isabel—”

  An impulse to toy with him was burning brightly in her. His greater size suddenly something she need not fear.

  So that was trust.

  Isabel lowered herself slowly and gracefully. “You impress me well, my lord. I cannot wait to see what else you shall do to soften my will.”

  A promise flickered in his eyes. “Be assured there will not be so many eyes on us when that moment arrives.” His gaze lowered to her lips and set off a need that pulsed deep inside her belly.

  Her cheeks warmed, but this time she welcomed the surge of passion. It awakened a soft throbbing between her thighs that she enjoyed. “Be careful, for that is a game both may play.”

  He groaned softly but his eyes snapped with determination. “A challenge to the finish? Be sure, I am your man, madam.”

  “Perhaps you shall be,” she simpered.

  It was an astonishing admission to make, for she had always considered the action to be immature. With Ramon, it was a dangerous game that twisted her insides with excitement.

  Ramon watched her as she left. She felt his gaze on her as though they were connected in some spiritual way. She looked back over her shoulder before she made it into Thistle Keep and watched his lips twitch into a small curve before he smoothed his expression and turned back to supervising.

  He was a sight, so powerful and very welcome. She watched him command the men bringing up another large stone. They strained as they worked together to lift it into position. The grand mason held out a building square and made sure it was level. They pounded the stone into position, removing the mortar that squeezed out at the seams.

  “When are you going to wed that man?” Mildred asked sternly.

  “Perhaps by summer’s end.” Isabel looked at her. “Perhaps I will make him wait until Michaelmas.”

  Mildred humphed and propped her hands on her hips disapprovingly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “At least you stopped wearing those wimples. Time enough for those when your hair turns gray.” Mildred’s face crinkled as she smiled. “And still time enough for babes! It looks as though you will enjoy making them.”

  “Mildred!” Isabel admonished.

  Mildred waved her off, and Isabel found herself smiling as well.

  She just might enjoy being wed to Ramon de Segrave.

  But there was no way she would tell him so just yet. After all, she shouldn’t waste her only chance to be courted.

  * * *

  Mildred and Isabel climbed up to the doorway of the keep and disappeared inside. Neither noticed the young man watching them. He slowly ran a sharpening stone along the edge of a stone chisel. There were several others waiting to be worked on as soon as he finished, and a mason came to take the one he’d straightened the edge on. It was slow, grudging work, but he was fortunate to have been welcomed into the yard at all, since no one knew him. Only Ramon’s desire to see the new keep built quickly had allowed him to mingle with the inhabitants of Thistle Keep.

  He remained at his post, his fingers aching by sunset from the labor. But when the bell was rung at sunset, he didn’t follow the rest of the workers into the hall for supper. He slipped into the darkness and farther away through the forest.

  Jacques was busy enjoying a supper that tempted the youth, the scent drifting up to tease his nostrils and make his mouth water.

  “So you managed it,” Jacques remarked as he bit into a piece of rabbit and pulled a chunk of meat free. He chewed it before continuing. “I am pleasantly surprised. What do you have to tell me?”

  “The lady is not yet wed.”

  Jacques dropped the meat. “Good.”

  “But she told her nurse that she is considering wedding by the end of the summer. The Baron de Segrave courts her gently, with a patient hand.”

  “Ramon always was soft with women,” Jacques declared. “He’s had the time to starve her into submission if that priest insists on a willing bride.”

  He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Still, his softness will be my opportunity.” He was lost for a moment in contemplation before his gaze landed on the youth again. “Return.”

  Jacques ripped a section of bread from what lay before him and cut a section of rabbit free with a long dagger. He tossed it to the youth. “There will be silver for you after I secure the heiress. Until then, keep your ears open.”

  The youth lowered hi
mself as he cradled the food. His belly knotted with hunger and his hands shook as he clutched the meal.

  This was the best he could hope for. His mother had been a whore, and his only bit of luck had come from actually being born, considering his mother had taken more than one potion to rid herself of him.

  He was strong. That was his blessing.

  He had to make his own way and didn’t dare spare a thought for the lady of Thistle Keep. Everyone had a master. It was simply the way life was. She’d settle in just as he had, for nobles were set above them all by God.

  No one argued against God’s will.

  * * *

  “Where are you going?” Ambrose asked.

  Ramon lifted an eyebrow at Ambrose. “To share the company of someone fairer than you.”

  Ambrose sniffed and covered his chest with a hand. “I’m wounded, my lord…deeply.” A woman shifted behind him, doing a poor job of stifling her laughter. “Aww…April…come to me.”

  The woman walked up the steps of the platform that the high table sat on. Several of the candles had already been pinched out to save them, leaving the hall in semidarkness that felt as though it were conducive to seduction. The way the serving woman looked at Ambrose made it clear she was receptive to being seduced.

  “I see how deeply wounded you are.” Ramon pushed his chair back and rose. “Do enjoy drowning your sorrows, my friend.”

  “I shall,” Ambrose assured him. “But…April has something for us both.”

  April was perched on Ambrose’s thigh, his arm anchoring her against his body. Ambrose lifted a pottery jar with a thin neck that was sealed with a length of hemp rope and tar.

  “Honey mead…a courting necessity.”

  “The cook didn’t want to part with it,” April said. “I had to convince her and it wasn’t easy, even with the silver penny you gave me.”

  Ambrose smiled at her. “I’ll have to show you how grateful I am.”

  “The cook is worried what the lady will say if she knows it’s missing.”

  Ambrose hugged April close and looked over her shoulder at Ramon. “I think the lady might enjoy the way she discovers it missing.”

  Ramon picked up one jug and grinned. “She just might.”

  “She’d better, for you owe me a ha’penny.”

  April nuzzled Ambrose’s neck. His friend was closing his eyes, looking pleased.

  “Well then, best you come along with me now,” Ramon insisted. “I wouldn’t want the debt to linger.”

  April straightened and started to move off Ambrose’s thigh. He clamped her back against his body and tucked his thumb beneath his forefinger, offering Ramon the “fig” insult.

  Ramon laughed but performed a slow reverence to Ambrose in gratitude before he turned and carried the honey mead toward the stairs.

  * * *

  Isabel stubbed her toe when she took the candle back to the hearth to relight it. She hopped twice and dropped the candle. She jumped out of the way to keep the flame from touching her chemise.

  “I see the wisdom of not having rushes on the floor.”

  She looked up, the candle casting only a tiny amount of light from where it lay on the stone floor. Ramon closed the door behind him, his squire nowhere in sight.

  The candle sputtered and she scooped it up before it died. Ramon set the jar on the table. She fit the candle into its holder and gaped at the jar.

  “How did you pry that from the cook’s storeroom?”

  He grinned at her. “I am courting you, Isabel. The secrets of my cunning will not be revealed.” He used a knife to cut through the tar sealing on the top of the jar and pulled the rope stopper free. “Besides, I would be forced to confess that Ambrose is the one who managed the feat.”

  She laughed softly. “Your captain knows the art of seduction well.”

  Ramon poured a measure of the mead into a cup and offered it to her. She climbed onto the bed and sat next to him before accepting it.

  “Ambrose also knows what the pillory feels like,” he said.

  The mead was strong and sweet. She savored it as she shared a look over the rim of the cup with Ramon. “I might be bound to join him before the summer is finished.”

  Ramon swirled his mead in his cup and inhaled the scent. “What sinful secrets could you possibly have, dear Lady of Camoys? Dare I hope they concern me?”

  “You can be certain they do.”

  Ramon’s eyes narrowed with enjoyment. “In that case, this mead was worth every bit of grief Ambrose will extract from me.”

  “I’m not going to wed you just yet,” she informed him as she drained her cup.

  Ramon finished off his mead and poured her another measure before serving himself. “Greedy for more attention?”

  She nodded, her lips curved into a mischievous smile. He contemplated her for a long moment over the rim of his cup. “On the morrow…”

  “Yes?”

  Ramon took a slow sip of his mead, letting his thought lie unfinished between them.

  “Ramon?”

  He chuckled darkly and raised his cup to her. “You will have to wait to discover my plans.” He set his cup down and captured the back of her head. “Linger in anticipation, for I will have you and you will be had very, very happily.”

  He pressed a kiss against her lips. It stoked the hunger inside her, and she reached for him.

  Summer was suddenly far too long a season.

  But she’d not tell him her thoughts until the morning. She could wait that long.

  But not much longer.

  * * *

  Isabel heard screams in her sleep.

  She rolled over, trying to decide if it was a nightmare, but Ramon roared as he left the bed.

  “To arms!” He pulled the window shutter open and yelled to his men. “To arms!”

  The door flew open as Ambrose strode into the chamber and joined Ramon at the window. Yellow and orange light lit the night in a nightmarish scene.

  “Raeburn?” Ambrose asked as he studied the view.

  “I would bet my horse on it,” Ramon growled. His squire skidded to a halt and scrambled to dress his master. Isabel sat up and pulled the bedding to her chin. Beyond the window, the flames rose higher, brightening the midnight sky. Screams came with the breeze as the sound of men and horses from the yard joined it.

  Mildred was panting when she arrived in the bedchamber, wearing only an under robe and her hair swinging in a long braid behind her.

  “Come, my lady, there’s people needing stitching…”

  Everyone hurried but it wasn’t quick enough. Each screech made Isabel cringe. She couldn’t get into her clothing fast enough. The scent of smoke grew thick, nauseating her as she finally got her boots laced.

  “Bar the door behind me, Isabel.”

  She turned in horror, her lips moving but no words coming out.

  “Do it!” Ramon ordered her softly. He was once more the man she’d watched ride up to Thistle Keep: his armor in place, his face only visible because his visor was raised. “And let no one in that is not me or has my head with them.”

  Her belly knotted, threatening to send up the remains of her supper. She gasped and fought for composure. She should not distract him with pitiful emotions. She must stand tall and steady.

  His head…

  “Isabel?”

  “Yes. I will bar the keep.” No words had ever felt more difficult to get past her lips.

  Ramon nodded once, firm and resigned to his duty. There was a clank and shift of armor in the hallway as Ambrose appeared. Ramon turned away from her and something inside her felt as though it tore.

  She lunged after him, unable to bear the separation.

  “And…I shall pray for you.”

  Mildred reached out to stop her, grabbing her clothing. The
fabric strained as Ramon looked back at her. His dark gaze looked her up and down, a flare of enjoyment in his eyes. His lips curved, his expression softening until another scream shattered the moment. Hard, cold reality returned. But Ramon nodded again, this time gently. More appreciative.

  “My lady…there is great need…” Mildred stammered, unsettled by the sounds coming through the window.

  Isabel gathered her composure and straightened her shoulders. “Aye. And we shall see to it.”

  The sounds of men in armor filled the keep as Ramon and Ambrose descended to the bottom floor. Their squires followed and the few torches left burning through the night flickered off their armor. A steady line of villagers were fighting their way toward the keep, carrying the wounded with them.

  The hall filled with the sound of weeping and the scent of blood. The sound of Ramon and his men marching decreased. The maids looked on with wide eyes as children huddled in corners, their faces wet with tears. Everyone waited on her word. She watched the last of the villagers make their way inside.

  In the distance, the first sounds of battle rose: the cries of men charging forward with courage and the sound of swords connecting.

  It might very well be the sound of Ramon dying.

  “Bar the door,” Isabel commanded. She didn’t have time to wallow in her personal fears and neither did anyone else. “Stoke up the fire. Boil water and bring in the stores…”

  With something to do, her people started to move.

  “Stop crying. If you’ve no skill to share, set yourself to praying for the men riding out to defend us.”

  Children wiped their faces on their sleeves before they fell to their knees and folded their hands.

  Isabel had only a moment for a silent prayer before someone pushed her healing basket into her arms. Those lying on the tables looked to her, their faces full of pain and their eyes filled with desperation. She fought back the sickness making her belly roil and squared her shoulders.

  Water hissed as it was poured into the kettles, heat touching her cheeks as the fires were stoked and the bellows worked to push air into the coals. The sound of the doors being closed sent a chill through her heart. The hard lowering of the bar sounded like the top of a coffin closing. She prayed that it wasn’t Ramon’s. But she couldn’t ignore the possibility.