Sword for His Lady Page 8

  She nodded before thinking. It was a simple response, completely honest and likely to get her in trouble if she didn’t control herself. Yet it was her sincere feeling on the matter.

  He moved toward her again, this time stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. So simple, yet it blew across the coals of her craving for him, kindling something more.

  Now, there was a sense of trust beginning to flicker inside her.

  His lips lifted into a ghost of a grin. “The choice is yours.” There was solid promise in his voice.

  “Why?”

  He withdrew his hand. “Because I was no more pleased than you when the king told me to consider wedding. I have gone to the church doors at the bidding of my parents as well. My wife found the constraints of matrimony too constricting when the king called me away. She cuckolded me and made sure my seed never took root in her womb.”

  She was stunned. “Why did you not renounce her?”

  His jaw tightened. “Because like you, my family arranged the match, and I am a man who respects his father’s word and keeps his vows. I was also away on the Crusade and understood how faith does not always satisfy loneliness.”

  “Did you take a leman with you?” She truly should not have asked, but she couldn’t stop herself. Part of her was desperate to know.

  He struggled with an answer. She witnessed the battle in his eyes.

  “Not with me but I sought comfort once I learned my wife was not being faithful.” He drew in a deep breath. “The Crusade is said to be a holy thing and yet it brings out the most unholy actions in men.”

  “And the women left behind.” It was true. There would be babies born the next season and no one would question their origins.

  “Richard would find himself without subjects if all kept so strictly to their vows.”

  Surprise held her silent for a long moment. Once more, they had things in common that she had never thought to share. Doubting a king? It wasn’t done, or at least it wasn’t spoken of. She had assumed he didn’t question his monarch the same way she did.

  She’d never thought she could find a companion in a man. It was illogical, after all. Men and women were so different.

  She drew in a deep breath to compose herself. If she acted like a lady, he’d have no choice but to respect her wishes. It was safer, more predictable, and less likely to see her falling from grace.

  But it’s also disappointing…

  “Your offer is honorable, but I must decline. Widowhood suits me well.” She nodded, at last feeling like the wimple suited her, or at least served her needs. Ramon studied her from behind an unreadable mask.

  His eyes darkened and his gaze settled on her lips. “The bold way you look at me says you are discontent, my lady.”

  “All the more reason for you to take the stone and be on your way.”

  He chuckled, the sound dark and promising. “And turn my back on the chance to see satisfaction glittering in your eyes after sharing a bed with me?”

  “You cannot know such a thing, much less promise me…um—” She clamped her mouth shut, realizing with horror what she was discussing.

  “Satisfaction?” A glint appeared in his eyes. “True.” He looked at her from head to toe and her mouth went dry at the boldness. “Such a promise requires me to prove my worth to you.” His voice dipped into a low growl. “I accept your challenge.”

  “Wait—”

  He captured her gasp beneath his lips, holding her nape as he pressed a firm kiss against her mouth. He kissed her hard but not brutally, moving his mouth across hers and preventing her from clamping her lips shut.

  She shivered.

  She flattened her hands on his shoulders to push him back, but all she ended up doing was curling her fingers into his clothing to hold him close. His kiss was intoxicating, numbing her senses as she tried to follow his lead and return it. Her heart was racing and she broke away from him, gasping for breath. He let her go. She caught the flash of his victorious grin and then there was a snap as he broke the tie securing her wimple, tugging the garment off her head. Pleasure flared in his eyes. He boldly stroked her hair, sending a ripple of enjoyment through her.

  “I will have you, Isabel, and you will find my bed pleasingly warm.”

  She braced her hand against his chest, but it felt as if she were trying to keep herself from clinging to him. “Nay…it is unwise—”

  “It is…sweet.”

  He bent his head and captured her lips once more. This time the kiss was carnal. There was no other way to describe it. She shuddered with need, rooted deep in her belly, curling and twisting through her as he pressed her lips apart and boldly thrust his tongue into her mouth. For one wild moment, she thought she might burst. Sensation tightened to an almost painful tension inside her. It froze her breath in her chest until she felt as though the room were spinning. He boldly cupped her breast, massaging the tender globe and unleashing a burst of pleasure she’d never suspected herself capable of feeling.

  “My bed will be a duty you will find to your liking. I swear you will be well satisfied,” he promised darkly against her ear. Her nipple had risen into a tight nub. He teased it with his thumb until a soft sound of delight escaped her lips. Pleasure was spiking through her, teasing her skin and leaving gooseflesh. She was fascinated by it, surprised by her own body. “It will be my duty to ensure you find pleasure.” His voice was harsh and edged with arrogance. His arms tightened for a moment before he released her. “We shall take vows tomorrow.”

  He turned and crossed to the door, leaving her feeling his departure far more deeply than she should have. Frustration gnawed on her, stunning her with just how much she enjoyed his touch.

  She sank into her bed in confusion, her knees feeling weak as her lips tingled.

  Tomorrow?

  Her breasts felt swollen and eager for his touch.

  Tomorrow was a very long time away.

  She shook her head but the sensation persisted. Between her thighs, there was a throbbing that demanded surrender. Confusion swept through her in a thick cloud. How could she desire something she knew would bring her grief?

  Was it Satan’s trickery? As the church preached? She curled into a ball, trying to will the tide of cravings to subside, but his kiss replayed in her mind instead, her eyes slipping shut as another wave of need washed over her.

  What she also thought of was the way she’d pulled him to her. As though he’d been too far away. She’d needed to be pressed against him, from shoulder to knees. It had been stronger than any urge she’d ever had.

  She craved him.

  Wanton…lust…sinful…all the words she knew to shame herself weren’t working. Instead of feeling guilty all she felt was a sense of being trapped. It wasn’t the wedding vows that would make her his possession, it would be her own weakness for him.

  Christ help her, for her defenses were already crumbling.

  Three

  Whispers woke her.

  Opening her eyes took more effort than it should have. Isabel allowed herself to linger for a moment, hoping whoever was near might leave her in peace. She felt in desperate need of privacy.

  “Do you think he ravished her?”

  “Is she dead, maybe?”

  “He’s so large a man, little wonder she’s senseless. A member like that would force the breath from a woman…”

  Her eyes flew open. “Naught of the sort happened.”

  There were gasps, but what made her sit up was the soft hmph she heard. Mildred was looking at her with doubt, and the young maid standing beside her noticed it, her eyes widening with alarm.

  “He did not have me,” Isabel defended herself as she got to her feet. Her words fell on deaf ears. The maid was already hurrying from the chamber, eager to tell her tale.

  “Mildred,” Isabel beseeched. “Forbid them to gossip
. Please.”

  “It will be truth soon enough. That man has his mind set.” Mildred pegged her with a long, steady look before her lips rose into a smile of approval. “This will be a far better match for you, my lamb.”

  She turned and made her way through the door. Isabel found herself battling a second urge to sink down into her bed.

  But she squared her shoulders. She wasn’t going to accept fate’s odd sense of humor so easily. Ramon needed to be gone. If he wasn’t near, she would forget him and his appeal.

  She was just going to have to ensure that he had a reason to forget about her.

  * * *

  Supper was the last meal of the day. It was not the largest but it was the only time the inhabitants of Thistle Keep allowed themselves to linger at the trestle tables in the great hall. The sun had set, so work would have to wait until dawn. The scent of roasted meat filled the hall, along with bread and stewed vegetables. Once again, Isabel was sitting at the common tables. Ramon stared at her, enjoying the way the lady fought not to look at him.

  “More rabbit, milord?” He paid the serving girl no attention at all. She leaned over in front of Ramon, holding a platter out and making sure he had a clear view down the front of her open robes—a generous amount of cleavage for his enjoyment. A long lock of her flaxen hair teased his cheek. She sent him a saucy look full of passion.

  The collar of his tunic suddenly felt tighter.

  Ramon locked gazes with her. “My captain will be more appreciative of your efforts, madam. I am to wed on the morrow.”

  Ambrose choked but controlled himself when the maid gave him her full attention. She brushed right up against him as she served him, a soft, husky sound rising from her lips before she straightened and went on her way.

  “Ale…milord?”

  Ramon jerked as a second maid pressed up to his side. This one had dark hair and rolled her lips in when their gazes met. She traced the handle of the pitcher she held. Up…down…and up again.

  His collar was definitely too tight.

  His squire bumped into her, holding Ramon’s goblet out in front of her. She tipped the pitcher up but shot Ramon an invitation when she was finished.

  “Methinks your bride is less settled than you are when it comes to taking vows on the morrow.” Ambrose was trying to contain his mirth, leaving his face looking pinched while his eyes sparkled.

  Ramon jerked his attention back to Isabel. He caught only a flash of her satisfied expression before she turned away and gave him nothing but the back of her wimple to look at.

  He was going to have every wimple in the keep burned on the morrow.

  “Then best I go and see to her contentment.”

  Ramon pressed his hands flat on the tabletop to rise. Ambrose reached for his forearm. “Be considerate and sit a while longer. I have no plans to wed and would happily enjoy the efforts being put forth.”

  Ambrose cast a long look toward the side of the hall where the passageway opened up, allowing food to be brought in from the kitchens. There were three more women lined up, waiting to serve the high table.

  “So kind of Richard to take the men away for so long…” Ambrose muttered softly. “I admit, I have never seen this advantage to Holy Crusades. We should have retired years ago.”

  The women were rosy-cheeked with excitement as he sent sly, hopeful smiles toward them. Each appeared freshly bathed, their hair brushed and hanging free, tempting him to feel it. They giggled as they mounted the stairs to climb to the raised platform the high table was placed on.

  Ramon looked back at Isabel. She was ignoring him. But her companion was watching the high table, astonishment on her face. Her lips were moving as she sent a stern look at her young mistress. Isabel shook her head and squared her shoulders.

  Ramon held out his hand for his goblet. His squire tripped as he tried to perform his duties, too busy watching the women serving the table.

  “Vixen,” he growled softly. He took a long sip from his goblet and nodded.

  Aye, vixen it was.

  * * *

  “You are playing a dangerous game,” Mildred warned.

  “Ramon de Segrave needs to be on his way. I am simply helping him notice that I am nothing exceptional.”

  Isabel laid her over robe aside and turned so Mildred could loosen the ties in the back of her under robe.

  Mildred humphed as she tugged the knot loose. “He will demand what he wants from you, sure enough. Or did you not learn that when he tossed you over his saddle this morning?”

  “What I learned was that I should not be changing my mind when it comes to wedding him. Such would be a distraction.”

  “Oh aye. A man like that is surely a distraction, on that I agree.”

  Mildred lifted the under robe away. Isabel released the tie on her wimple, sighing as she tugged the thing off her head.

  “You detest that wimple,” Mildred scolded. “Yet you wear it now because of Ramon. Would it not be simpler to enjoy what you may from the man? You adore children. I recall how disappointed you were when you bled.”

  “I shall not wed him.”

  Mildred pressed her lips into a disapproving line. “Stubbornness is a form of pride and that is a sin. You were not unmoved by his touch. I saw the proof with my own eyes. He stirred your passions.”

  “Passion is a form of lust and that is also a sin,” she argued.

  Mildred surprised her by offering her nothing but a gentle smile. “I forget you are yet young.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Mildred shook her head and headed toward the door. “Mildred? I do not understand.”

  “I know you do not, my lamb. But ’tis for Ramon de Segrave to teach you in this matter.”

  “I wish no lessons from him. Our life is good. There is no need to change.”

  “Are you saying you’d rather not make improvements until you are desperate for them?” Mildred shook her head disapprovingly. “Careful. Fate has a cruel side to her nature.”

  “Can I not simply be grateful for what I have, without longing for more?”

  Mildred didn’t hear her. Or if she did, she paid Isabel’s argument no mind. The door closed, leaving Isabel with only a single candle for company.

  The chamber was suddenly darker than she recalled. Larger maybe…colder…

  Enough.

  She chided herself. There was no reason to feel lonely. Her bed had always been a sanctuary, the one place Bechard was certain not to bother her. When he’d wanted to use her, he’d summoned her to his chamber.

  She shuddered with disgust and climbed into the bed. The bedding was newly washed and smelled like sunshine. The candle was a beeswax one, gently lending the sweet scent of honey to the night air.

  Perfect.

  Yes, perfect, and she would make sure that she focused her thoughts on what was most important.

  She was happy in her life. Content beyond measure. She reached for her comb and began to work the tangles from her hair.

  But the door opened and the comb slipped from her fingers. Ramon de Segrave strode boldly into the chamber.

  “Are you insane?” She’d meant to sound demanding, but her voice was too high.

  Ramon lifted one eyebrow in a lazy manner, as if to convey that his appearance in her bedchamber wasn’t alarming.

  “Does your tone mean you doubt my honor, lady? You seemed quite willing to test me this evening. I am here to prove myself worthy.”

  Her chemise suddenly felt nearly transparent as opposed to simply thin. She fought the urge to cross her hands over her breasts. The baron’s squire walked across the chamber and placed his master’s goblet on the table.

  “Appearing in my bedchamber is not proving yourself, my lord.”

  The baron sat down and his squire immediately set to work removing the spurs that were tied to each b
oot.

  “How else will you know for certain that I did not partake of the generous feast you laid before me at supper?”

  Her cheeks stung. “I trust my people to speak the truth.” She was stammering. Ramon’s squire looked at her curiously.

  “Mind your gaze, Alfred,” Ramon corrected the youth.

  The youth turned his attention back to his master.

  “As I told you this morning, Isabel, bring your needs to me, for I fully intend to bring mine to you.”

  The spurs made a soft chink when they were set on the tabletop next to the goblet. The boy then began removing one boot. Isabel blinked rapidly, but the sight of the man sitting in her bedchamber remained.

  “Very well. You have assured me that you are—”

  He tilted his head to one side and fixed her with a stare that was unrelenting. “Willing to rise to any challenge you give me?”

  Ramon let his gaze slide down her length. Behind the sheer, worn fabric of her chemise, her nipples drew tight.

  “Be assured that when you challenge me, I will rise to the occasion.” His voice deepened, becoming sensuous. Her cheeks heated but she couldn’t make herself look away. The promise glittering in his eyes stoked something inside her.

  The squire removed the second boot and set them neatly next to one another near the chair. The baron stood and the boy unhooked his sword belt.

  Isabel stood and shook off her fascination with him. “This is my chamber. Leave.”

  He offered her only a soft grunt while his squire took his sword from him. Isabel nearly choked, for no knight went anywhere without his sword. The boy laid the weapon on the table within reach of the bed.

  “There are chambers that my husband used on the north side of the tower,” she insisted.

  The squire climbed up onto a stool and began to pull his master’s over tunic off.

  “Yes, Ambrose and my captains are making use of those chambers. The expansion of this fortification will include more chambers.”

  “Since it seems you are intent, I shall sleep elsewhere.”

  The baron suddenly sent his squire away with a flick of his fingers and stepped into her path. The boy was halfway to the door before Isabel realized she would soon be alone with Ramon.