The query cut through Hugh’s amusement; silently, he watched the man struggle against his bonds. A part of him enjoyed the seneschal’s humiliation; he well knew Mandeville’s temper and pride, had been a target of the cruelty lingering beneath his words and actions. Mandeville was a fine seneschal, but should he realize Hugh had seen him in such a state, he would make Hugh’s position in the castle unbearable.
As his status could not survive Mandeville’s hatred, Hugh swallowed the response that rose in his throat, along with the temptation to declare himself the owner of this bit of power over the knight.
The gelding shifted uneasily beneath him, as if in response to Hugh’s tension. There was nothing to do here—nothing to report. With a press of his heels, Hugh guided him back the temple’s entrance. Once outside, he drew on the reins, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply the clean, thick air. A trembling had taken hold of his hands, and his sword rattled against the wooden scabbard as he sheathed it.
Shame and temptation shook him equally. If he had been older, more secure of his position, would he have taken advantage of the seneschal’s weakness? Undoubtedly. But such an action would have been foolhardy; no matter how he wanted it, how it burned bitterly in his gut, he must act in a manner that would ensure his future. He must curb his tongue. He must act with honor—even though Mandeville rarely did the same.
“A rather disappointing display of cowardice, Sir Pup.”
A woman stood by the gelding’s head, stroking the horse’s broad cheek. Though her words had been spoken softly, Hugh startled, and her lips tilted into a secretive smile as she looked him over. Her gaze finally rose to meet his, her eyes dark and amused.
He quickly recovered his composure, but the quick beat of his heart did not immediately ease. Had he been so distracted that she’d been able to sidle up to him undetected? How did she move so swiftly, so silently?
Like she, he kept his voice low so as not to be overheard by Mandeville. “Cowardice, my lady?”
For indeed, her clothing declared her such. Her scarlet cloak was thrown back, revealing an overdress of fine black. She wore no cap over her dark hair, though it was parted and bound as severely as any other lady’s. No beauty was she, but broad-beamed and flat-featured, like an ill-tempered cow.
Yet her eyes sparkled with wit and vivacity, as if she would not be contained by her lackluster features, and demureness were a sin.
“Yes, cowardice. Imagine the power you could wield over him had you the courage to grasp it.” Her expression challenged him to take offense. When he made no response, she stepped forward and traced her fingers over his hand, still clenched around the hilt of his sword. Her skin was warm—hot—despite the cool air. “You shook with desire, Sir Hugh. Could it be I’m mistaken, and you have not been aroused by the opportunity to secure a better position within Fordham? If you threatened to bring each member of your party into the temple so they may be shocked and decry his perversity, do you not think he would honor your every request?”
Her breasts pressed against his leg. His chausses prevented direct contact, but the pressure of her soft, generous curves drew his eyes. Though a moment ago he had not noted any immodesty in her dress, he realized naught hid the upper swell her bosom, and creamy flesh mounded over her neckline. Hugh stared down into the depths of her cleavage and swallowed, finally remembering to reply.
“ ‘Honor’ is not a word I would associate with profiting from a man’s humiliation.”
Her laugh set the mounds a-jiggling. He hastily returned his gaze to her face, and she said, “Do not pretend you aren’t tempted, honor or no. I am sorely tempted to expose him, and I’m the one who tied him there.”
Aye, he could easily imagine this woman, with her wicked eyes, binding Sir William and teasing him into the state Hugh had seen. Who was she? She’d known his name, his destination, yet Hugh was certain they’d never met. “If you wish his humiliation, then you must know Sir William well,” he said.
Her grin revealed sharp, white teeth—unexpectedly perfect teeth for someone of her apparent age. “Indeed. Although the position you found him in is a far better indicator of how well I know him.” She smoothed her palm over the back of his ankle, unprotected by armor. The heat of her fingers burned through his hose and boots. He shifted his foot in the stirrup. Her breasts heaved upward with the movement, and her hand slid up the length of his calf, hugging his leg against her.
Trapped by a fine pair of bubbies. Choking back a laugh, he said, “You have me at a disadvantage, my lady, for you know far more than I.”
An unfathomable emotion flickered in her dark eyes. Just as quickly, it disappeared and her amusement shone bright again. “An innocent, are you?” Her fingernails tickled the back of his knee, and she smiled when he drew in a sharp breath. “Then perhaps we should make a bargain, and even our playing fields? What would you like?”
“Your name.”
A harmless request, but unease skittered down his spine as she drew back, her expression triumphant. “A name is nothing, Sir Hugh. Agreed. ’Tis Lilith.” Surprise fluttered across his features. Before he could respond to the unusual name, or demand a family and connection, she pursed her lips and added, “And I should like you to announce your presence to Sir William.”
He began shaking his head, and her smile grew disdainful. “Or shall you betray our bargain and your honor?”
Lilith struggled to keep her scorn on her bovine features when all she wanted was to bang her head repeatedly against the temple’s rock wall. Stupid, to try casting aspersions on his honor or courage in order to generate a heated, thoughtless response. She’d done so earlier, and he had regarded her as calmly as he did now.
Did she never learn? Or had she become so used to men of Mandeville’s ilk—proud, vain, cruel men—that she’d become a creature of habit? True, she’d become bored in her old role, and seized the opportunity to corrupt an innocent when Lucifer had offered it, but she hadn’t expected innocence to present a challenge.
Nor had she expected the challenge to be so pleasant to look upon. A pity this innocent was not hers—still, that would not prevent her from playing with him.
“Honor?” he echoed, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Oh, those were fine brows. Even a demon could not find an imperfection in them, though she might try. Like dark mahogany, they matched the hair that curled soft as a cherub’s, barely visible beneath his helm. Thick lashes framed clear, azure eyes. At an age between adolescence and maturity, his cheeks and jawline curved gently, as if his face were too youthful for angles. “What you ask is hardly in fair exchange for what you deemed ‘nothing.’ ”
“My good sir, the terms of the bargain are equal! I gave you my name . . . and you have only to give yours to Sir William.”
A smile seemed to threaten the corners of his mouth. “The consequences are uneven. Name another—worth nothing—and I will leave you to your assignation and return to my party.”
She affected a pout. She’d been listening to those waiting on the road, but Hugh’s absence had not yet caused them significant worry. Much longer, however, and they would come after him. “Perhaps they already begin to search for you,” she lied easily. “Your resistance will be for naught, and they will all look upon Sir William. I heard the ladies laughing earlier—will they laugh the louder for his prick being exposed to their gaze?”
“Not one lady,” Hugh said beneath his breath, but Lilith had no trouble discerning his words.
“Ah, aye,” she said. “Lady Isabel. She is far too kind a creature to laugh at another’s misfortune. And she would not think the better of you for being the procurer of their amusement. Does her opinion matter so much?”
To her frustration, she could not read his face, and he had unusually strong shields for one so young—as if he often hid his thoughts even from himself. But the granite voice with which he replied gave her the answer she sought. “Name your side of the bargain, lady.”
“A kiss.” He looked at her with
surprise, and she arched a brow. “ ’Tis nothing but a meeting of lips. It only has meaning when there is love or a promise involved, and there is neither between us.”
“It should not be given without love or promise,” he said, but his gaze fell to her lips.
“So idealistic.” She grinned and slid her tongue over her teeth. “I should love to corrupt you.”
A chuckle rumbled from him as he leaned over. “I promise I would not be worth the effort.”
She had to rise on her toes to meet his lips. They were firm and cool beneath hers, and he did not immediately pull away, but neither did he deepen the kiss. She felt his tension—as if he expected her to take the kiss farther, and both feared and hoped she would.
Oh, to choose between desire and fear. Her instincts cried for her to take his mouth fully, to subject him to a sensual onslaught, to play on his fear—but her instincts had guided her wrongly with him before. And so she decided to both assuage his fear and deny his desire by ending the kiss.
She nipped gently at his bottom lip and his mouth opened. The beat of his heart skipped and increased, drumming loud in her ears. Pleased by his involuntary response, she stepped away to gauge his reaction. He blinked and straightened, his cheeks flooding with color.
“I see you make a habit of only taking a man so far,” he said ruefully.
Had he said it in any other tone, it would have been a condemnation of her as a cock-tease. Instead, he made sport of himself.
“Only as far as they will,” she replied; for truthfully, she could not act contrary to a human’s free will.
“Perhaps you mistook mine.”
She pushed the absurdly pleased rush of emotion away, and wondered if she should feel insulted that he suggested she’d misread him. “I think not.”
“I’ve never pitied Sir William before this day.” He smiled as he delivered the backward compliment, then bowed. “My lady.”
Lilith seized the reins beneath his horse’s chin before he could turn away. He frowned.
“Do you not realize the women will speak of your brave venture into the ruins after they reach the castle?” The words tripped from her mouth. “Mandeville will discover who saw him thus.”
Hugh nodded solemnly, his beautiful mouth tightening. “Of course I have realized, my lady. But the dishonor of his reaction—should it be dishonorable—will belong to him alone. I will not compound it by threats or humiliation.”
She narrowed her eyes and studied him. How foolish to set himself up for the punishment Mandeville would undoubtedly deliver when its avoidance could so easily be had. Then inspiration struck: he had already made one bargain. It should be easy to convince him into another. “I will enter into another agreement with you, Sir Hugh. You undoubtedly want Sir William to have no knowledge of your seeing him—I can guarantee that.”
“How?”
She lowered her lashes. “Come now, you do not think I will reveal my secrets?”
“I think you have already revealed them.” His gaze fell to her chest.
She did not need to feign her laughter. When it faded, she asked, “What say you?” He had little choice but to accept her offer; he must know that.
“What shall you ask in return?”
She hid the triumph that shot through her. “I do not yet know, but it shall be an equal favor.” When he hesitated, she pressed, “Have we a bargain, Sir Hugh?”
He gave a short nod. “We do. I’m in your debt, my lady.”
He did not sound as though he relished that knowledge—all the more reason for her to enjoy it. She lowered her lids to hide the glee that boiled within her. Her nape burned as his stare fell upon her like a hot iron prodding for lies. He doubted his judgment in making the bargain, and did not trust her—but he would not renege. Of that she was certain.
She folded her hands demurely over her midriff to prevent herself from rubbing them together in anticipation. “ ’Tis nothing, Sir Hugh.”
Lilith watched as the mist swallowed Hugh’s mounted form, listened to the laughing, nervous coos of greeting from the women. All but one woman—Lilith paid particular attention to that lady’s relieved sigh.
Ah, but this was almost too easy.
The rough slide of rope against stone recalled Sir William to her. Gathering up her skirts, she skipped into the temple.
He turned his head, blindly following her trampling path. “Marie?”
“Aye, ’tis I,” she sang and danced into a spin. His hesitation pleased her, as did his fear.
“You ran, and I was seen.” She felt his shame roll into rage. He shook his head as if to dislodge the blindfold. “Untie me!”
Her good humor dropped from her like a shroud. “You were not seen,” she lied, observing his angry struggles with distaste. Whilst she waited at the castle, she had chosen him to play with, to pass the time, but it seemed little worth it now.
“I heard—”
“A horse.”
“Without rider?” he scoffed. “You are both slut and liar.”
“Oh, I am more than that,” she murmured, settling herself lightly upon a fallen column. Perched as she was, he might have discerned something of her true nature—but, blindfold or no, such as Sir William had no discernment. It had served her so well over the centuries: those she had manipulated saw nothing beyond themselves.
She sighed as he roared for her to untie him. Destroying him would have been a sweet pleasure, if a rather worthless one. Unless Sir William had a dramatic turnabout in his nature, he was destined for Hell; anything she did would only accelerate his damnation. One such as Hugh, however, or the baron, or Isabel—their temptation and damnation would add a soul not already doomed.
She touched her lips, ignoring Sir William’s increasingly furious demands. If she did this well, perhaps she could tempt all three. Such a coup—and on her first attempt in this role!—should win her some reward. And Hugh would make a fine companion, with his beauty and his absurd mix of practicality and idealism. He could entertain her for a time, perhaps even a century or two. Beneath her fingers, her mouth curved into a frown. Of course, Lucifer would not allow him to retain his beauty, as she had not been able to keep hers. Nor would his innocence survive the descent and torture Below.
“—IMMEDIATELY! Do you hear me, Marie? Marie!” As if her silence had made him fear she’d left him again, he repeated her name with a hint of uncertainty.
She eyed his flaccid penis, then leaned forward and collected a long, slender branch from the floor of the temple, where she’d dropped it after a similar encounter a sennight earlier. It had left satisfactory stripes across his arse, she remembered. “Have you finished bellowing?”
A poke to his testicles sent the heavy sac swinging. He gasped in pain—but not too much, she noted, as his cock began to fatten. “Marie?”
That ridiculous name. She lifted the tip of his burgeoning penis with the switch, balanced its length along the wooden shaft. Studied the blind little eye.
And because there was no one to see, she let herself be Lilith. Her constricting clothing vanished. The shift from human to demon form was instantaneous, a shiver of newly crimson skin and a ripple of muscle. Black, membranous wings sprouted from her back; she stretched them wide, debating whether to push the transformation further. No one would appreciate the effect of fangs, forked tongue and claws, so she grew them for her own pleasure and imagined William’s reaction if he saw her this way.
His screams would be as music to her pointed ears.
But she’d made a bargain with Hugh, and so she must create a different tune. She had to fulfill the terms of her agreement; as with human free will, it must be honored. She was unused to bargaining—her slip with the name, allowing Hugh to ask for her real name instead of what she was ‘called’—had been a mistake, but not an irreparable one. Bargaining wasn’t usually part of her repertoire when tormenting murderers and rapists, but a skill she still had to learn. In a hundred years, she’d be a master—but for now, she would d
o what she could.
Lowering the stick, she fastidiously wiped the tip on the ground. She didn’t need pain to get her point across.
Her tongue would do quite nicely.
CHAPTER 2
The celebratory mood that swept over the castle slowly faded as the day wore on, and though Hugh was greeted with exclamations and felicitations for his successful return, these were soon replaced by the duties life demanded, conversations became shorter, men more ready to excuse themselves from Hugh’s recounting of the journey.
Robert had claimed his wife and kept her by his side throughout the day, her ladies-in-waiting settled themselves and set about their work, and Hugh found himself in the bailey, standing beside Georges and watching the squires’ fencing practice. Though Hugh knew many of the squires well and was of the same age, he couldn’t ignore the separation that seemed between them now. More than two years, it was the separation of rank and position—one that, judging by the glances he’d received, many of them felt he had not deserved.
“When do you return to Anjou?”
“A fortnight, perhaps; the court should like me to report that the lady is settled well,” Georges said. “The boy should plant his feet less firmly.”
Hugh nodded as a squire failed to give against his opponent’s blow and was knocked to the ground. Beyond the field, a figure rode through the gate, and Hugh stiffened. Mandeville.
Lilith did not seem to be with him—but no, likely they’d have arranged to return as if separately.
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