Tye shut his eyes, sucked in a slow, purposeful breath, and then released it. It had been months since he’d slept in such clean, soft bedding. The rope bed with its thick feather mattress was a luxury he’d only experienced in his dalliances with rich widows or wealthy courtesans; most nights, he’d slept on a straw pallet on the floor, with a single blanket to ward off the night chill. Now, each time he inhaled, the sweet scent of sun-dried linens filled his nostrils. The mattress cradled his body. The fire’s hiss and crackle lulled.
Yet, sleep refused to come.
Because of her .
“Hellfire,” he growled, his eyes opening. He flung an arm wide. It thudded down on the mattress, the sound surprisingly loud. A startled rustling noise came from the hearth.
Guilt coursed through him as he drew back the bedding, rose, pulled on his woolen robe draped at the end of the bed, and walked to the fireside. Ignoring the draft skimming across the floorboards, he squatted beside the wooden screen he’d propped at one end of the hearth. Behind it was a low-sided box, lined with a blanket. A black and white cat lay huddled inside, ears flattened, its golden eyes fixed warily on Tye.
When he’d investigated the arrow jutting out from behind the barrel in the bailey, he’d found the cat. The unfortunate creature had taken an arrow in one of its back legs. One look at the animal and Tye knew he couldn’t leave it to die. Ignoring the feline’s yowling and clawing, he’d pulled it out from its hiding place. With a mercenary holding the animal still, Tye had removed the arrow, washed the wound with wine, applied salve, and then tied on a bandage.
“Easy now,” Tye murmured. He stretched out his hand toward the cat. The feline wasn’t wild, for its coat was thick and glossy and ’twas obviously well fed. Earlier it had let him stroke its back and scratch it under the chin, its eyes closing in pleasure. It had also snatched bits of cooked chicken from his fingers.
The feline hissed and struggled to rise, but its bandaged back leg hindered its ability to move. With a pleased smile, Tye noted the bandage wasn’t bloodstained. A good sign. With luck, the wound would heal quickly.
He scratched the cat’s fuzzy head. The feline tolerated the attention, its posture still wary. With luck, though, its disquiet would soon ease. Tye said gently, “I will bother you no more. Rest, my friend. I will see you in the morning.”
The feline made no sound, just flopped back onto its bed. Eyes glinting in the firelight, it watched Tye walk to the table and the waiting jug of wine.
He downed a mouthful of the piquant red, savoring the burn that ran down to his gut. His mother would think him stupid for rescuing the cat, but he’d felt compelled to do what he could, if only as a tribute to the black and white kitten he’d found in a back alley in Rouen when he was a boy. For a few months, that cat had been his best friend.
His beloved pet had vanished one day, and his mother had refused to let him have another. “Pets are a distraction. You cannot become attached,” she’d groused, silencing his tearful protest with a stinging slap across his face. “You have more important matters to think about.”
He drank more wine, even as the pain of losing that pet years ago brushed his heart again. Scowling, he forced the anguish aside. He wasn’t a lonely boy any longer; he was a grown man with a destiny. He couldn’t change his past, but he could make his life now what he wanted.
His gaze strayed to the solar doors. Claire was only a short walk away. Would she understand how much he’d missed that kitten that had followed him like a dog and slept at his side every night? Somehow, he knew she would.
Claire . The heat in his groin roused anew, and his hand tightened on the stem of the silver goblet. He longed to kiss her again, to feel her quiver in his arms, to drown in her scent. She was far more than he’d ever deserve, but still, he wanted her for his own.
He forced himself to turn away from the door. As his gaze slid over the table, he stilled, caught by the stack of letters and the journal he’d taken from her chamber.
What better way to learn how to charm her, tempt her, seduce her, than by finding out all he could about her? Those pages held her secrets; they held the way to win her heart, if he dared to try.
Since he couldn’t sleep, he might as well make good use of the night.
Chapter Fourteen
“Wake up.”
The man’s voice intruded into Claire’s sleepy mind. Her eyes still shut, she sighed, her thoughts chasing a fading dream. She’d been hurrying through a crowded market, following Henry who was walking ahead. Somehow, he’d been unaware she was behind him. She’d frantically called to him, tried to catch up to him…
“Claire, wake up.”
She groaned, for her eyelids were too heavy to open. Lady Brackendale hadn’t been able to fall sleep for a long while, and Claire had refused to let herself drift off until her ladyship was slumbering. It seemed only moments ago that Claire had gone to sleep.
Sunlight suddenly glowed beyond Claire’s eyelids. Someone had opened the shutters at a nearby window. As Claire stirred, her eyes opening at last, she realized she was still sitting in the high-backed chair she’d drawn up next to the bed so she could talk to her ladyship while the older woman kept warm under the blankets.
A floorboard squeaked close by, and then someone lifted a length of hair from Claire’s shoulder. Him . Tye came into view beside her, garbed in a dark green wool tunic, hose, and black leather boots. His gaze slid from the hair trapped in his fingers to the blanket curled around her, and then lower. She looked down, to see that a corner of the blanket had fallen to her waist while she slept, exposing her left breast barely covered by her chemise. Because of the crisp breeze blowing in from outside, her nipple had become as round as a berry under the thin fabric.
She snatched up the blanket and pushed it into place across her other shoulder, concealing all but her neck.
Tye chuckled and released her hair.
Beside Claire, Lady Brackendale stirred, her tousled head lifting from the pillow. She peered blearily at Tye.
“Good morning, milady. Did you sleep well?” Tye asked.
The older woman snorted, a sound of disgust.
“I will take that as agreement.” Tye’s attention returned to Claire. “There is food waiting in your chamber for you to break your fast. A maidservant is also bringing water for you to wash.”
“Thank you,” Claire said, her mouth dry from sleep.
“I will escort you back to your room.”
“Must you?” The thought of spending another day all alone and a prisoner made her cringe inwardly.
Tye’s brows rose. “What is wrong with your chamber?”
The dangerous note in his voice made her uneasy. In truth she had no right to complain; she’d rather be locked in her room than in the dungeon. Still, holding tightly to the blanket, she said, “Surely you will not confine us to our chambers every day that you are lord here.”
“Lady Brackendale is to be confined until I say otherwise, as I said in the hall.” His eyes narrowed. “I am a man of my word.”
A man of his word . That was a matter of debate, yet as he spoke, Claire’s thoughts slid back to the discussion she’d had with Lady Brackendale last night. Keeping their voices hushed, they’d plotted ways for Claire to get down to the storage rooms. The plan they’d devised was risky and more likely to fail than succeed, but she’d do all she could to make it work. First, though, she had to be able to walk freely about the keep.
“Indeed, you did insist on her ladyship’s imprisonment,” Claire said, “because you were demonstrating to all those in the great hall that you were the one in power. However, there is no longer any doubt that you are the ruler here. You and your men have full control of Wode. There is no way any of us can escape.”
; “I am glad you understand that,” Tye said with a tight smile.
“Since we know we cannot flee the castle,” Claire added, “we pose no threat to you. I am certain I speak for Mary and her ladyship when I say I would enjoy eating with them in the great hall, and walking in the gardens, and sitting by the hall fire in the evenings, instead of being shut away in my chamber. Such activities might also help to ease her ladyship’s nightmares.”
Tye shook his head. “’Tis not—”
“If naught else, will you grant us a short walk outside in the fresh air? Surely ’tis not too much to ask?”
“Beware, Kitten. You sound as though you are setting demands.”
“Not demands.” She lowered her gaze and softened her tone so she wouldn’t appear confrontational. “Requests.”
“ Requests will only be granted if I wish to grant them.”
She fought the stirring of resentment. “Of course—”
“And if I see there is some…benefit…to me.”
Claire tensed. She had no doubt as to the kind of benefit he meant.
A gasp came from Lady Brackendale, now sitting up in bed, her blanket drawn up around her. “How dare you make such a suggestion?”
Tye’s hand settled on Claire’s shoulder. As she drew in unsteady breaths, his strong, bronzed fingers slid along the fold of the blanket bunched up near her chin, a light but controlling touch. One swift yank of the fabric, and he could bare her breast again, and there was naught she could to do stop him.
“Oh, I dare,” he murmured. “Why should I not?”
“She is an innocent young lady, who deserves the attentions of a man far better than you,” Lady Brackendale bit out, in a tone to make a grown man cower.
Tye’s face, caught in a wash of sunlight, hardened into a mask of fury. His hand slid from Claire and balled into a fist. “I am well aware of who and what I am—and who and what she is. I have learned a great deal about her since we first met, now that I have read some of her letters.”
“Mercy,” Claire choked out. “Did you read my missives to Henry?” They’d been returned to her after being discovered in Henry’s belongings, and she’d tucked them in with the letters she’d received from him.
“So far, I have read a few from your sister.” Tye smiled again. “Tonight, I will read more. And then, there is your journal…”
She could only imagine what he’d think of her then, of the mockery he’d make of her tale about kissing.
Through a haze of embarrassment, she heard her ladyship say, “Do not fret, Claire. A thug like him cannot read. He is just saying he can to torment you.”
“I can read,” Tye said.
Lady Brackendale laughed. “You? Really? Who taught you such a skill?”
“A woman I knew in France.” Smirking, he added, “Shall I fetch one of Claire’s letters and read it aloud? I will try to find a good one.”
Claire winced.
“Heavens, nay.” Her ladyship huffed. “I can quite imagine what those letters might say.”
“You?” Tye grinned. “Really?”
The older woman’s expression soured. “If you have any respect for Claire, you will return those private letters to her. And, you will stay away from her. Far away.”
“You are in no position to tell me what to do, Lady Brackendale.” Glowering, he stepped away. “Claire, your visit here is finished.”
“But—”
“Again, you contradict me, Claire? ’Tis clear you do not respect me, either.”
The rage in Tye’s voice silenced the rest of what Claire wanted to say. He was right. She didn’t respect him. She doubted she ever would.
As though attuned to her mutinous thoughts, he caught her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Think on that,” he said, “before you dare to make any more requests.”
***
Sitting in the round wooden bathing tub positioned by the hearth, Veronique scrubbed her bare arm. Soap lathered on her glistening skin and on the linen washcloth in her hand, while the heady scent of roses wafted from the bathwater that was already growing cold, despite the nearby fire.
Sighing, she turned her attention to her other arm.
“You are frowning, Love,” Braden said from the bed across the chamber in the north tower. He lay beneath the blankets, one broad arm folded behind his head as he watched her bathe. The gemstone eyes of the skull ring on his right hand glinted in the light cast by the fire and the morning sunshine filtering in through cracks in the shutters covering the window.
Veronique pouted. “There is a draft from the window. Also, the water is no longer hot.”
He chuckled. “Not because of the servants’ lack of effort. They hurried up and down the stairs with their buckets as though they were being whipped.”
Wrinkling her nose, Veronique said, “I wanted to whip them, the way some of them glared at me.”
“I know you did. You showed remarkable restraint.”
He lingered on the word restraint, and she smiled. “So I did. Just like last eve.”
They’d fornicated on the bed, on the trestle table, on the floor… She’d made him work hard to pleasure her, but she had no doubt he’d enjoyed every moment of their noisy, exquisite, satisfying couplings.
Thinking of the way he’d thrust into her, dominated her, his manhood so hard and thick and impatient, brought a flush skittering over her skin. Her nipples hardened.
“Love?” he purred, levering up onto his elbows. The blankets slipped from his upper body to reveal more of his well-muscled chest sprinkled with dark hairs. She’d crawled atop that stunning body of his last night, suckled and teased and caressed him until he was sweating, panting, and swearing he could endure no more.
“Mmm?” she finally answered, concentrating on washing her hand. The soap slipped over her skin, bubbled between her fingers, dropped with a whisper onto the hazy surface of the water. She was acutely aware of every sound and sensation as her body stirred in lusty anticipation…
The bedding rustled, but she didn’t look at him. ’Twould ruin all. She’d ignore him until he came to her, as he would. As she expected.
His footfalls thudded on the planks, and then he lowered to his knees beside the tub. He caught hold of her face and forced her to meet his gaze. Heat blazed in his eyes.
“Do not ignore me, Wench,” he growled.
Heat throbbed between her legs. How she loved when his passion roughened. “Give me a reason, then, to give you my full attention.”
“I will.” His voice hardened. “First, though, you will tell me when I will receive my due.”
The tips of his fingers dug into her jaw. He wasn’t hurting her, but clearly expected her immediate reply. She pulled free of his hold, the submerged half of her hair stirring in the water, and said calmly, “You know what must happen first. Tye must kill his sire.”
“Then I will be awarded a castle of my own,” Braden said.
“Of course. We have discussed this many times before.” Tsking, she stroked his cheek with her wet, dripping hand. “You must be patient.”
“I have been, for a long while already,” he grumbled.
“I know.” She forced a soothing tone, even as she silently scorned his impatience. The lure of ruling a keep of his own had kept Braden under her control for months; she must keep him eager for that reward, at least until Tye’s victory. “I promise, you will get your castle very soon.”
“I do not want just any keep. I want a large, profitable estate. I want a fortress as fine as Wode.”
She bit down on her tongue. Greedy bastard .
“I am entitled to such a rich reward. You canno
t deny it.”
Can I not ? Rage welled within her as she raised her left knee to scrub it.
“I risked my life more than once for you and Tye,” Braden added while she lathered her skin. “Without me, you would never have been able to conquer Wode.”
Greedy and also bloody arrogant , her mind amended. Yet, in truth, she’d known that ages ago. She’d found his arrogance highly compelling, especially when she’d recognized his ambition was as great as her own.
With effort, she tamped down her anger. Too much could still be lost, despite Tye’s takeover of Wode. For now, Tye needed Braden. So did she. When she’d used her rune stones last night, they’d revealed that to her.
Over the slosh of water, she said, “You are right. We would never have succeeded without you.”
“I will have my fine keep, then.”
She met his stare again. “When de Lanceau is dead, you will have your pick of his estates. Does that please you?”
Braden’s eyes lit with anticipation. “Tye will agree to that arrangement?”
“I will ensure that he does.”
“I will hold you to that promise, Love.”
She paused, her soapy hand on her raised right knee. Surely, Braden hadn’t threatened her. He well knew she wouldn’t tolerate that kind of boldness, even from him.
His callused fingers slid along her jaw, as if to soothe the rage he sensed churning within her. “When I am lord,” he murmured, “I will not just attend my own desires, but also yours.”
“How so?” she asked, unable to quell a flutter of delight.
His fingers glided, caressed. “You will stand by my side as lady of my castle. You will have a title, privilege, all that you have ever wanted: gowns of the finest silk; glittering jewels; servants to attend to your every wish, no matter how small.”
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