The Taming

by Jude Deveraux

  Liana giggled against his shoulder. “Can it be enjoyed again?” she asked slyly. “Or is that your last ‘enjoyment’?”

  For a moment Rogan considered beating her for her insolence, but then his hand slid down her bare rump. “I believe I can manage a bit more.” He then did something he’d never done before: He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed and gently laid her on it.

  As he stood over her and looked down at her, he didn’t want to jump on her, thrust inside her, then go to sleep as he usually did. Perhaps it was because of his earlier “enjoyment,” as she called it, or perhaps he wanted to touch her as she had touched him, but he lay on the bed beside her, propped on one elbow, and reached out his hand to feel the skin of her belly.

  Liana had no idea how new all this was to Rogan, but this was what she had imagined being in bed with a man to be like. He explored her body with his hand as if he’d never seen a woman before. Liana closed her eyes as his hand caressed her legs, running between her thighs, his fingers curling over the smooth, firm roundness of them, then his fingertips entwined in her short woman’s hair. His hand moved up to her belly, his thumb running along the side of her navel, then slowly, ever so very, very slowly, his hand moved up to the underside of her breast. He cupped first one then the other, his thumb just grazing the sensitive, hard little point.

  She opened her eyes to look at him and saw the softness in his eyes and suddenly she knew why she had agreed to marry him. She had sensed that under his toughness, under his hard outer shell, was a softness he had never let anyone see. A shudder passed through her body as she thought of the pain this man must have experienced in his life to make him into the cold, unfeeling man he showed to the world. But somehow she sensed that the Rogan the world saw was not the inner man.

  I love him, she thought. I love him with all my soul and all my being, and so help me God, I am going to make him love me too.

  She put her hand to his jaw, felt the whiskers there, soft now from days without shaving as he seemed to shave only once a week. I’m going to make you need me, she said to herself. And I’m going to make you feel safe enough that I can see the softness in your eyes even when I have clothes on.

  The last made her smile and she rolled her body toward his. He held her to him and she could feel his rising passion as his hands stroked her back, then his mouth took hers and he kissed her deeply. His lips ran down her throat and at last to her breast. Liana arched backward and let out a little cry of pleasure.

  Rogan was aware of her reactions, and because of the episode in the tub, he was able to control his own need for her. The women he’d had had either been frightened virgins or very willing, experienced women, and always they had wanted to please him. Of course none of them had offered to bathe him, nor had any of them left paper and pens in his room. Perhaps it was merely a wish to repay a debt, but he was enjoying feeling this woman squirm beneath his searching hands. Her pleasure was giving him pleasure.

  His lips followed his hands down her body and he found the smell of her and the taste of her sweet and fresh, so unlike the Days, who sometimes smelled so bad he kicked them out of bed. This girl smelled like wood smoke and herbs.

  When his head came back up to her lips, he was amazed at how much he wanted her. Her hands clutched at his shoulders and when he entered her, she rose to meet him with a force and power to match his.

  Never had he spent such a time in bed with a woman! She was lusty beyond all belief, at one point pushing him to his back and climbing on top of him, her hair wrapping around the two of them like a soft yet strong prison.

  Rogan had never considered the woman’s pleasure before, but this woman, with her moans and groans, her movements here, her movements there, sent his own pleasure into a fevered pitch until he thought he might die. When he finished at long last, it was an earth-shattering experience to him, affecting him from his toes to the top of his head.

  He collapsed on the girl and instead of pushing her away, as he usually did to the women he bedded, he clutched her to him as if he were drowning and she were a buoyant log.

  Liana snuggled against him. He seemed to pour over her body as if he were sauce over a pudding. She had never felt so good in her life. “That was wonderful,” she whispered. “That was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I knew marriage to you would be like this.”

  Rogan released his hold on her and moved to the far side of the bed, but Liana moved with him, her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest, her thigh across his. She was happier than she’d ever been, happier than she’d thought possible.

  She had no idea of the turmoil that was coursing through Rogan. He wanted to get away from her, yet he couldn’t move.

  “What did your brother William look like? Did he have red hair like yours?” she asked.

  “I don’t have red hair,” Rogan said indignantly.

  “In the sunlight your head looks as if it’s on fire,” Liana retorted. “Was William like you?”

  “Our father had red hair, but I inherited my mother’s black hair.”

  “So both of you had red hair, then.”

  “I don’t—” Rogan said, then stopped and he almost smiled. “On fire, eh?” Every other woman he’d had had told him he had black hair without a trace of his father’s red. That was what he’d wanted them to say and therefore they had.

  “What about your other brothers? Were they redheads too?”

  He thought of his now-dead brothers, remembering the youth of them, the strength of them. How well they could fight! He never thought he’d someday be the oldest Peregrine and have the responsibility of it all. “Rowland, Basil, and James had a dark mother, so they all had black hair.”

  “And what of Severn and Zared?”

  “Severn’s mother was a blonde like…” He trailed off. She had taken his hand in hers and now lay there looking at his fingers, entwining hers with his. It was such an odd thing to do, he thought. He should push her out of bed and get some sleep rather than talk to her about painful memories. But remembering his brothers as alive was not painful.

  “Like me,” Liana said, smiling. “And she was Zared’s mother also? But Zared is such a dark young man.”

  Liana did not see Rogan smile in the dim light. “Yes, indeed. Zared is dark because of a dark mother. Severn’s mother died giving birth to him.”

  “So your father had four wives and seven sons?”

  Rogan hesitated before answering. “Yes.”

  “It must have been good to have brothers. I often wished for another child to be born to my mother. Did you often play together, or were you fostered out to other people?” She felt him stiffen beneath her and wondered what she’d said wrong.

  “There was no play in our lives, nor did we foster.” His voice was cold. “We trained for war from the time we could stand. The Howards killed William when he was eighteen, James and Basil at twenty and twenty-one, and they killed Rowland two years ago, before he was thirty. Now I must protect Severn and Zared.” He took her shoulders and lifted her to look into her eyes. “I killed James and Basil. I killed them over a woman, and I’ll die before I let it happen again. Get away from me, and stay away from me.”

  He shoved her back into the feather mattress, then got out of bed and began tugging on his clothes.

  “Rogan, I didn’t mean—” Liana began, but he was already gone. “Damn, damn, damn,” she said, slamming her fist into the pillow, then she turned onto her back and stared at the white-painted ceiling. What had he meant that he killed his brothers? And over a woman? “What woman?” she said aloud. “I’ll have her for breakfast.”

  The thought comforted her and the thought of there being tomorrow night also calmed her. But most of all, she thought of winning her wager. If the peasants turned over the thieves to her, Rogan would be her slave for an entire day. What would she do with him? Have him make love to her all day? Perhaps just to have him stay with her for a day would be enough. Stay with her and answer her q
uestions, maybe. She drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning Liana rose early, meaning to find her husband, but the sight belowstairs made her temporarily forget Rogan. No one was in the Lord’s Chamber, so she went down the stairs and outside and took the stairs leading to the retainers’ hall. She had not been in this area before, but she was not surprised to find it as filthy as the other part of the castle had been. In the enormous hall, twice as big as the Lord’s Chamber, sat about two hundred men at greasy tables on slimy benches eating sand-filled bread and drinking sour wine. No one paid any attention to her when she entered, but they continued scratching, shouting, swilling, belching, and breaking wind.

  Liana’s good mood and sense of accomplishment left her. Quietly, she left the hall and went outside into the sunlight.

  Severn was standing near the south wall stroking the breast of a big peregrine falcon.

  “Where is my husband?” she asked.

  “Rode out for Bevan this morning,” Severn answered, not looking up.

  “Bevan? Where your family was starved?”

  Severn gave her a quick glance and put the bird on its perch. “That’s the one.”

  “When will he return?”

  Severn shrugged and walked away.

  Liana followed him, lifting her skirts so she could hurry. “He just rode out? No word to anyone? He didn’t tell anyone when he planned to return? I want you to give the men permission to drain the moat.”

  Severn stopped, turned, and looked down at her. “Drain the moat? Are you crazy, woman? The Howards could—”

  “Walk across the thing as it is now,” Liana said, glaring up at him. “When will my husband return?”

  The stern expression left Severn’s face and his eyes began to twinkle. “My brother rode out of here before dawn, saying only that he was going to Bevan Castle. If you asked him to order the moat drained, I imagine that had something to do with his leaving.”

  Liana didn’t say a word.

  “Scared to, eh?” Severn said, beginning to smile.

  Liana couldn’t stop the blood from creeping into her face, as he had guessed correctly.

  “I’m not about to give permission and have Rogan come back and see the moat empty,” Severn said, and turned away again.

  Liana stood staring after him. It upset her that Rogan was gone, but she thought she could perhaps more easily put the castle and the village in order if he weren’t there. Severn was a much softer man than Rogan was, she could see that, and she thought perhaps there was a way to persuade Severn, a way she had used to persuade her father to do anything she wanted: food.

  Liana sent Joice to fetch her precious recipe book, then Liana straightened her headdress and went up the stairs to the kitchen rooms.

  It was late that night when Liana climbed alone into her bed. She was exhausted but happy too, for she now had permission to have a ditch dug to drain the filthy moat.

  It had taken all day, but she’d managed to get the kitchens and the retainers’ hall somewhat clean and she’d laid before Severn and the Peregrine knights a banquet fit for a king. She’d served roasted beef, pink and juicy, capon in orange sauce, rabbit cooked with onions and raisins, spinach and cheese tarts, eggs in mustard sauce, spiced pears, mince pies, and apple mousse.

  By the time Severn and his men stopped gorging themselves, Liana knew she could have anything she wanted from them. Patting his swollen belly, Severn not only agreed to her request, he offered to help dig. She’d smiled and said that wouldn’t be necessary, then handed him a plate heaped high with sweet jellied milk cubes.

  If only my husband were so easy to win, Liana thought as she sank wearily onto the feather mattress. She tried not to wonder what her husband was doing at Bevan Castle. Was he in the arms of another woman?

  Rogan sat before the fireplace in Bevan Castle, as unaware of the filth and disrepair around him as he was at Moray Castle. He had eyes only for the pretty young peasant girl before him.

  When he’d left Moray early that morning, he wasn’t sure why he was leaving. He knew only that he’d awakened from sleep and his first thought was of that blonde-haired she-devil he’d married. He’d scratched at the fleas that had so willingly left the old mattress he’d slept on and jumped on his skin, and knew he wanted to put some distance and time between him and the girl.

  He’d ordered some men to ready themselves and had ridden out, stopping in the village to pick up Thursday to take her with him. But Thursday had cringed and cried and begged him not to force her to go with him as the Fire Lady would kill her. Rogan had left the girl in disgust. He heard the same from Sunday and Tuesday, so he’d ridden with no woman to Bevan.

  Bevan Castle was isolated atop a tall, steep hill, and before he began the climb, he stopped in the village below and took the first pretty, healthy-looking girl he saw and pulled her across his saddle. Now, the girl stood trembling before him.

  “Stop shaking,” he commanded her, scowling. She was younger than he’d first imagined. He saw her shaking increase and his scowl deepened. “Come here and give me a kiss,” he ordered.

  Tears began to run down the girl’s face, but she stepped toward him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Rogan grabbed her greasy hair and pulled her mouth down to his and kissed her angrily. He felt the girl whimper under him. He released her, pushing her so she fell to the floor.

  “Do not hurt me, please, my lord,” the girl begged. “I will do as you say, but please do not hurt me.”

  Rogan’s desire left him. He remembered too well a woman who was eager for him, a woman who didn’t smell of grease and pig manure. “Get out of here,” he said under his breath. “Go before I change my mind!” he yelled when the girl was too frightened to move. He turned away as she scurried from the room.

  Rogan went to one of the barrels along the wall and tapped a stream of dark, bitter beer into a dirty wooden mug. One of his knights lay sleeping nearby. Rogan kicked him in the ribs. “Get up,” he commanded. “And get some dice. I will need something to help me sleep tonight.”

  Chapter

  Nine

  Liana put her hand to her aching back. Two long weeks Rogan had been gone, and in those two weeks she’d wrought miracles in the castle and the village. At first the peasants had been afraid to obey her, afraid of Lord Rogan’s wrath, but when a few obeyed Liana and were not punished, the others began to believe in her.

  Village houses were repaired, new clothes purchased, and animals slaughtered to feed the hungry people. By the end of the first two weeks, the peasants were looking at Liana as if she were an angel.

  The cleaning of the village and castle gave Liana great satisfaction, except for one aspect: the number of red-haired children running about. At first she’d thought it was a coincidence that Rogan should have the same distinctive dark red hair as some of the villagers. It was when a little boy, about eight years old, looked up at her with the same hard eyes of her husband that Liana demanded to know who was the father of the boy.

  The peasants around her stopped their tasks and stared at the ground in silence. Liana repeated her question, then waited. At last a young woman stepped forward. Liana recognized her as one of the Days, one of the women who used to sleep with Rogan.

  “Lord Rogan is the father,” the woman said defiantly.

  Liana felt the peasants around her cringe as if in anticipation of a blow. “How many of my husband’s children are there?”

  “A dozen or so.” The girl’s chin came up a little higher. “And the one I’m carrying.”

  Liana stood for a moment, unable to move or speak. She didn’t know if she was angrier at her husband for having so many bastards or for leaving his own children to exist in poverty. She knew the peasants were watching her, waiting to see what she would do. She took a deep breath. “Gather the children and send them to me at the castle. I will see to their needs.”

  “With their mothers?” the Day said, her voice and attitude showing she felt herself to be triumphant.
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  Liana glared at the girl. “You may choose to put your weaned child in my care or you may keep the responsibility of raising it. But no, I do not take on the mothers of the children.”

  “Yes, my lady,” the girl said dutifully, bowing her head.

  Near her, Liana heard a few women snicker in approval.

  It was late when she left the village, and she wished she could crawl into bed beside Rogan. As usual, she began to daydream about what she would ask of him when he was her slave for a day. Perhaps she’d plan a meal served beside a stream, for just the two of them. Perhaps she’d make him talk to her. Just to have him spend a day with her, an hour with her, when they both had their clothes on would be an accomplishment. He seemed to put her in the same category as the Days—that she was to sleep with and nothing else.

  The loudness of her horse’s hooves on the wooden bridge over the now-empty moat brought her back to reality. Behind her rode the ever-present, silent Peregrine knights.

  The castle grounds were almost clean now and Liana was able to walk up the stairs to the Lord’s Chamber without tripping on refuse.

  Once upstairs, she avoided Joice, who had a list of questions and complaints, and climbed upward to the bedchambers above. Several times in the last weeks Liana had sought out the Lady, the woman she’d met that first week, the woman who’d reminded her that men never fought battles over quiet, meek women, but each time the door to her room had been locked.

  The upstairs rooms were clean now and a few of them were occupied by her maids, but for the most part they remained empty, waiting for the appearance of guests. At the end of the corridor was the locked door, only this time the door was standing open. Liana paused for a moment to watch the woman, the sunlight on her braided hair as she bent over on a tapestry frame.

  “Good evening, my dear,” the woman said, turning and smiling pleasantly. “Please come in and shut the door. It makes a draft.”