by Denise Lynn
Isabella felt the burn of embarrassment rush to her cheeks. How had he heard about the off handed wager she’d made with Hattie the day she’d sprained her ankle? It wasn’t even a serious one. After hearing about those in the keep placing wagers on how soon a child would be born, she’d simply made a sarcastic comment about winning the wager herself if she proved everyone wrong.
‘Or, were you aware—?’
‘Enough.’ Isabella cut him off. ‘I see your point.’
He released her hand, dragged her chair closer and slung his arm across her shoulders. ‘Listen to the gossip. Just remember that while most of it is pure fabrication, there might be a grain of truth buried beneath. You’ll have to determine what’s worth remembering and what’s not.’
She groaned. ‘I am not very good at that.’
‘You’ll learn.’
‘I suppose I will have to.’
A group of men called out for Richard to join them. ‘I am slated to challenge the winner of this round of chess.’
‘Go.’ She waved him away. ‘Enjoy your game.’
He rose and then leaned over to quickly kiss her cheek, whispering, ‘I’ll be back soon.’
A shiver rippled down her spine at his hushed promise and she watched him take his place at the table, unashamedly hoping his king quickly got checked and checkmated, ensuring a speedy return to her side.
Chapter Seventeen
Christmas, Epiphany and now Candlemas had come and gone. And as she’d expected, so had the comfortable easiness between her and Richard. She watched him from across the Great Hall and fought to ignore the constant longing that burned deep in her belly. While he had shared their bed Christmas Eve and again Christmas night, he’d not returned since then. Nearly six long weeks had passed since she’d felt the warmth of his body next to hers and she wondered if anyone else could see the desperate hunger in her eyes.
She knew what he was doing, or she was fairly certain she did. He had claimed that he feared her tender heart being broken, but she had to wonder if he might also be concerned for his own. Did he believe that he could spare either of them by keeping his distance?
Foolish man.
Little did he realise that he was just fanning the fires for an all-out battle between them.
He turned his head and caught her staring at him. Isabella felt the heat creep up her cheeks as he smiled. That slow, deliciously sensual half-smile that was reserved only for her never failed to make her shiver.
She looked away and then spun back to stare at his hair. His face. His clothes. Who was this clean-cut, freshly shaven, well-dressed courtier who possessed her husband’s face? And when had this change taken place? How had she not noticed?
One of the serving girls walked up to the group Richard was standing with, to offer the men wine or ale. She swayed back and forth, playing with her hair while talking, laughing and flirting with one of the younger guards. But it was Richard’s gaze that trailed after her when she left.
Isabella frowned. This would not do. She’d often overhead her father’s men make off-hand comments about being married, not dead, and she’d seen how her mother dealt with her father when his eyes wandered. She highly doubted that her father had ever taken another woman after marrying her mother, but even after all the years they’d been married, he was not above trying to make her jealous.
And her mother was not above threatening to castrate him with a dull knife.
Although she didn’t think that tactic would work well with Richard. He might be tempted to push her just to see how far she would go. Thankfully, she’d never have to test that theory, since she had no liking for that type of game.
The only game she wished to play with her husband involved much less clothing and a bed. However, she needed to find a way to coax him back to her chamber before she could even think of getting him into the bed.
Isabella leaned against one of the support beams on the far side of the hall to study her husband. Even though they’d shared nothing more than a passing word, a brief touch, a meal now and then of late, she’d noticed small changes. He seemed less angry, less willing to burst into unreasonable fits of rage. And on an occasion or two, like now, he’d taken time to talk, jest and even laugh with his men.
She didn’t think for one heartbeat that he’d given up his quest for revenge—there were times when an unsettling darkness fell over him and she knew without a doubt the direction his thought had drifted—but it didn’t seem to consume his every waking moment.
And there were times, other moments, when she’d catch a glimpse of his face and see such overwhelming sadness that she ached to hold him and to chase away the terrors haunting him.
Oh, Richard, do you not see what is right before you?
Isabella sighed. If she stood here any longer, she would sink into the same depressing malaise that afflicted him at times. She pushed away from the timber to cross the Great Hall.
Her husband had moved away from the group of men to talk with Conal in private. Their conversation ceased when she joined them.
‘Are you looking for something?’ Richard slid his arm around her as if he hadn’t just spent the last endless weeks avoiding her.
Unwilling to lose the warmth of his touch, Isabella bit her tongue. Instead, she leaned against him. ‘No. I simply tire of my own company and thought perhaps I’d venture out to visit Mistress Marguerite.’
‘Are you sure? It is cold out there.’
‘If I wear my fur-lined cloak I will be warm enough.’
‘I will see you to her door.’
‘Richard, I am well able to make my way down the path alone. It’s not as if I will get lost.’
Both men shook their heads at that statement. Her husband lowered his arm. ‘No. It has nothing to do with getting lost. Go get your cloak and I will escort you.’
Conal offered, ‘I am headed to her cottage in a little while, if you want to wait I would be more than happy to accompany you.’
‘Oh, yes, Sir Conal, a man sitting in on women’s talk, that’s just what I want.’ She looked from one to the other. They were both far too willing to keep her company on her short walk outside the keep. ‘What are the two of you trying to hide this time?’
They met her stare, but she wasn’t backing down. She narrowed her eyes and to her surprise Conal broke the contact first. He shot a rather pleading look at Richard. ‘Tell her.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Come.’ Richard grasped her elbow and guided her towards his private chamber. He said over his shoulder, ‘Since this was your idea, Conal, you are of course joining us.’
Once the chamber door closed behind the three of them, Richard retrieved a small wooden chest from beneath his pallet. After shoving aside stacks of documents and maps strewn over the table, he set the chest down to unlock it.
He handed her a rolled missive, asking, ‘Can you read?’
‘Yes.’ She plucked the missive from his fingers. ‘And I can sign my own name, too.’
Her veiled reference to the mark he’d made for her on their marriage document drew a strangled snort from Conal and a hiked brow from Richard.
She unrolled the vellum and read the poorly written contents. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. ‘This is not the same missive as before?’
Richard shook his head. ‘No, this is a second one.’
‘The first one wasn’t quite as...detailed,’ Conal added.
Isabella turned her attention back to the missive. Her eyes followed each word.
Since my attempt to poison Lady Dunstan failed to bring about her death, I fear a more direct approach is in order. After I have torn her still-beating heart from her chest, fed it to the dogs and slit her throat, remember you were warned.
Her hands trembled. Struggling for breath, she dragged her f
ocus from the note to look at Richard.
His non-committal, expressionless look never wavered as he held her stare. To her amazement, his steady emotionless response calmed her wildly drumming pulse.
She blinked, trying to digest that realisation while at the same time letting the knowledge that someone hated her enough to want her dead sink into her mind.
Richard pulled a high-backed chair from behind the table and guided her down on to it. ‘Sit.’
Grateful, Isabella offered no resistance. Had the chair not been available, her shaking legs might not have kept her upright for long.
She handed him back his missive. ‘Does Marguerite know?’
Conal shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t told her yet.’
‘She still believes her herbs were responsible for my sickness?’
‘Yes,’ Richard explained, ‘Mistress Marguerite was not my first concern.’ He rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘You were.’
‘Why? Because my father will soon arrive?’ She truly didn’t know what was wrong with her, but the need to lash out at this threat wouldn’t be ignored.
At her strident tone, Conal made a hasty exit. Richard crossed the small chamber to lean against the wall, seemingly undisturbed by her outburst.
She pointed a shaking finger at the note he still held. ‘That...man...that monster poisoned my wine, threatened to cut out my still-beating heart and feed it to the dogs, and to slit my throat. Yet, here we are, going on about our day as if nothing is amiss.’
Richard shrugged, but still his expression hadn’t changed. Although his eyes seemed to glimmer in an oddly distracting manner. She mentally shook off the distraction.
‘I could have been taken, killed at any moment and once again you didn’t see it as important enough to warn me.’
Again he briefly lifted one shoulder.
She gasped. ‘You truly don’t care about me in the slightest.’ Her stomach twisted and knowing that she was as worthless to him as a flea made her throat burn. ‘What is wrong with me? How many times have you told me that I am nothing more than a means to an end, yet I keep hoping that some day there might be something more. I could be violently murdered and the only thing you would care about is that Glenforde arrived on Dunstan so you could claim vengeance for your first wife and child.’
Isabella stopped to drag in a much-needed breath of air. She wrapped one arm around her now-churning stomach.
‘Are you done? Have you spilled all the accusations you can?’ While she couldn’t read his blank look, his deadly tone was clear. She’d gone too far.
She nodded.
‘You are certain there’s nothing else you wish to add?’
She shook her head.
When the missive left his fingers to fall to the floor, Isabella knew she should run. But her legs refused to listen to her head. Instead they kept her frozen in place, permitting him to grab a handful of fabric at the front of her gown and jerk her to her feet. And when the chance to struggle presented itself, still her body would not comply. She remained limp and compliant as he marched her to the back of the chamber and through the door to his inner sanctuary.
He pushed her into the room and slammed the door closed behind them. ‘Now it is my turn.’
‘Richard, I’m sorry.’
Ignoring her, he said, ‘Let’s take your complaints one by one, shall we?’
He shoved her down on the bed, then paced before her. ‘It’s true that it would be upsetting for your father to arrive only to find you dead. But is that my main concern? No. I don’t fear your father any more than I do anyone else. He’s a man, that’s all. He can die just like the rest of us.’
She shivered at that thought, but kept her lips pressed tightly together.
‘Yes, the man who wrote that threat is a monster. But the only person who has gone about their days as if nothing were amiss is you. You’re so observant that you haven’t noticed you are watched and guarded every single minute of every single day. You have not been alone for one heartbeat since the day you arrived on this island.’ He stopped before her and leaned over so they were nose to nose. ‘Not one heartbeat.’
He straightened and resumed pacing. ‘As for me not caring about you. Since the day after Christmas, Conal or Matthew have guarded you each day and tried to catch up on their duties each evening. That’s why Marguerite hasn’t been told anything—Conal has not had the opportunity to see her for longer than a few stolen minutes at a time. At night you are guarded by me. I have sat on the floor outside your chamber door, my sword at hand, ensuring your safety. I have delayed repairs on my ships, rearranged shipping schedules to see to your well-being. Not my men. Me. To ensure you are not again poisoned, I personally have tasted every bit of food or drink prepared for you and then made certain that food or drink was delivered to you by Hattie or me. That’s how much I do not care for you.’
She wanted the floor beneath the bed to part and just swallow her whole. Dear Lord, how could she not have known?
‘I can tell you what is wrong with you.’ Again he leaned close. ‘You are so damned concerned about tomorrow, next week, next month, that you can’t see what’s right in front of you today, this moment. That’s what’s wrong with you.’
He walked away. ‘I am gladdened to know that what I freely offer is not enough for you.’
Somehow she found a way to swallow her groan. What had she done in her haste to lash out at him from fear? Had she destroyed everything?
He glared at her. She knew he wasn’t finished and that the worst was yet to come. She took a deep breath and bowed her head, knowing she deserved every bit of his anger.
‘Yes, Glenforde will die. By my hand. I long for the day I shed his blood.’
She flinched when he roughly grasped her shoulders. ‘Agnes did not deserve to die in such a horrific manner. Alone. With no one to protect her. Not even the husband who had promised to keep her safe.’
She ached at the anguish in his voice, knowing there was nothing she would ever be able to do to ease the pain he suffered at their deaths. And now relived because of her.
‘Lisette was a six-year-old child. She had been loved and cosseted each and every day since her birth. She had no understanding of the pain and agony being inflicted on her the last moments of her short life. I kept her safe during the storms that frightened her so. I kissed the scrapes and bruises away to make them feel better. I protected her when she did something to anger her nursemaid or mother. I held her when she was sick. But when she needed me the most, I was not there.’
Isabella let the hot tears fall from her eyes. Sorrow and shame that she had pushed him to this state tore at her. How would she ever be able to make this right for him? How could he look at her? How could he bear to be in the same room with her?
He pushed her on to the bed, falling with her to gather her in a tight embrace. ‘Isabella, do you not understand?’ He shoved his fingers through her hair, forcing her head back and placing his lips near hers. ‘I cannot go through that again. Not with you.’ His kiss was rough, demanding and far too brief. ‘Especially not with you. I would die.’
She raked her fingers through his hair, clasping his head in her hands. ‘Richard, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she repeated over and over, choking on a sob. She asked, ‘What can I do? Please tell me what to do.’
He released her to push up and rest over her on his elbows, his hands cradling her head. ‘Trust me. Let me do what I must in my own way. I do not avoid you out of spite, or any lack of desire. There is nothing I want more than to taste you, kiss you, feel you beneath me and hear your cries of fulfilment.’
Her cheeks flared with heat and when he tilted his hips to give her proof of how much he wanted her, she choked back a soft, strangled gasp.
‘Conal and I have narrowed the culprit threatening you down to three me
n. We are certain this is same man who helped Glenforde on to Dunstan. We are so close to snaring him. I am watching you, always watching, waiting for him to make a move.’
Why didn’t they just toss the three men into a cell? When she opened her mouth to ask, he shook his head. ‘Let me do this on my terms. Mine.’
She closed her mouth.
‘I will not tell you who we think it might be, for fear you would do something reckless that would show our hand before we are ready. I promise, it won’t be long. I want this taken care of before your family and Glenforde arrive. The weather is breaking early this year. They could be here any day now. Soon, this will all be over with.’
‘And then?’
‘And then Glenforde dies, Isabella. You need to make a choice before that day arrives. If you want any type of future on Dunstan, do not plead for him.’
‘Plead for him? Oh, Richard, I have not been completely honest with you. I care not what you do to Glenforde. I never have, not really. When you kidnapped me, I’d just come from seeing him kiss and fondle his whore in my father’s hall. And when he spied me, instead of stopping his betrayal, he kept his stare pinned on me while he lifted her and carted her into an alcove.’
She took a breath, then continued. ‘I suffered that humiliation from him just hours after he had knocked me to the ground for disagreeing with him about my sister and what he considered her unseemly infatuation with Charles of Wardham. And this is why I don’t think he will come for me, he has no reason, or desire, to do so.’
‘Does your father know any of this?’
‘No. I was trying to determine how to tell him when you found me.’
‘Then rest assured, he will come. Your father will see to it. Glenforde is too much of a coward to admit to your father what he had done. He would not risk your father’s retaliation. So as far as Lord Warehaven is concerned, you and Glenforde are nearly betrothed.’
She wasn’t convinced he was right. ‘I’m not so sure about that.’