by Tamara Leigh
"I was a novice," she managed after a lengthy struggle, " 'Tis my bridal habit I wear." She glanced down at the voluminous folds of material, then back up at him. "I was to have been professed the day my father sent for me."
He looked incredulous. " 'Tis true you have not taken your vows?"
"Aye, 'tis what I have said."
With a bark of laughter the baron released her and swung away. " 'Tis a great burden you have lifted from me," he said, moving to the front bench and dropping down upon it. He stretched his legs out before him and placed both hands behind his head, looking every bit as if he meant to settle himself in for a time.
"For this I thank you, Lady Graeye. Now I may rest a bit easier." His gaze swept the length of her before piercing her once again. "I am certain that if there is a God, he would not have been kindly disposed toward my taking the virginity of his son's bride."
Astonished by his nonchalant words, Graeye took a step forward. "If there is a God?" she repeated. "Surely, you speak heresy."
His mouth lifting in a sardonic smile, he set himself to kneading his thigh. "Heresy?" He shrugged. "I merely question His existence. Do you believe in Him?"
Graeye's fear was suddenly displaced by an indignation so strong, she found herself stepping quickly from the altar to stand before the blasphemous man. "Of course I believe in God!"
The baron's dark eyebrows arced in mock distress. "And I thought I had found myself one of kindred spirit. Tell me." He leaned forward. "Is your sexual proclivity typical of all members of the clergy? For if 'tis, then I vow to question God's existence no longer. I will simply deny it."
The anger that had given her strength for those few moments drained from her, leaving her despondent. He was bent on punishing her. She was horrified to feel the sharp prick of tears in her eyes.
He was not moved.
"If..." Her voice cracked terribly, and she paused to take herself firmly in hand. "As you obviously refer to yestereve," she continued, looking anywhere but at him, "I would have you know that what I did was done with the full intention of refusing to take the veil."
"Truly?" He cocked his head and regarded her trembling mouth. "Then you wear the habit today simply for the privilege it affords you?"
She felt her anger spark again, but was not quick enough to fan it to life. Somewhere she found the courage to meet his gaze. "Nay," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and attempting to rub warmth back into them. "Only by my father's order have I donned it. He does not yet know of my sin."
She was completely unprepared for what happened next, though she caught the glimmer of it in the baron's eyes the moment before his hand shot out and caught her habit. Yanking hard, he tumbled her across his lap.
"And when did you think you would tell your father you no longer qualified to become a nun?" he demanded as she struggled to emerge from the excess material of the habit. "Or perhaps he does know of your sin—even condoned it as a means of entrapping me. Was it he who sent you?"
Graeye went perfectly still, his words like a slap across the face. He truly believed that she and Edward had conspired to entrap him by the giving of her virginity to him? That she would whore her body in hopes of gaining concessions? Nay, she wanted naught from this man!
Thrusting aside the veil that had fallen across her face, she glared up at her assailant. "Release me!" she demanded, suppressing the temptation to drag her nails across his face.
Smirking, he forced her into a sitting position upon his lap. "What did you hope to gain by seducing me?"
She threw her hands against his chest and tried to push off him, but for all her efforts, he only gripped her tighter and twisted her about so she faced him. Struck by how attractive he appeared even with that mask of hate firmly upon his face, Graeye ignored how terribly askew her wimple had gone.
"Did you hope to force me to marriage?" he continued, his warm breath fanning her lips. "Is Med land so important you would sell your body for it—perhaps even your soul?"
So that was what he thought! Rage of a kind she had never before experienced flooded through her, suffusing her entire body with heat.
"Nay," she loudly denied, straining against arms that were like steel bands around her. "Never would I marry one such as yourself. Had I known who you were when you came upon my sanctuary, I never would have given myself to you!"
He appeared amused by her outburst. "And I am to
believe you?" He shook his head. " 'Twould seem more likely 'twas you who came upon me and decided to take advantage of the situation."
Further angered by his conclusion, and her inability to free herself from this lover-turned-enemy, Graeye lifted her fists and struck his chest with all her strength. He allowed her to vent her rage, all the while smirking at the ineffectual blows dealt him by one so small.
It was not long before she realized she had little chance of making any dents in him. She had, however, gained a measure of control over the powerful anger that had so suddenly come upon her. Stilling, she plunged her throbbing hands into her lap and stared into his cold eyes.
"You are wrong about my intentions." She attempted to speak evenly, grasping at a calm she did not feel. Whether or not he chose to believe her, she decided he must know the truth.
"By giving myself to you I forever renounced the possibility of becoming a nun. I did not do it that I might capture a husband." She blinked, then settled her eyes to his once again. "I did it so that I would not be forced to take vows I did not wish to. That I might remain at my father's side and help his people—"
"My people," he harshly corrected her.
Aye, they were his now. She nodded. "Their needs are great, their fields—"
"Think you I cannot see to their needs?"
Would he? This man who had shown no mercy to her brother?
"Even if you speak the truth," he continued, "and I was fool enough to believe you, then you would be little better having used me to achieve that goal."
" 'Tis true," she admitted, "and I have repented for having done such a thing, but I cannot change what has gone before." She looked at her clasped hands. "I did not wish to return to the abbey."
"Forgive me if I do not believe you," he said, his eyes probing her face, reminding her of the mark beneath the wimple. "I have heard that life among the clergy is far preferred over the toil of everyday life ... even if it be in the comfort of a castle."
She shook her head. "The abbey is where I have lived since the age of seven," she said, her gaze wavering beneath his harsh stare. "In all those years I knew little but unhappiness within its walls. Mayhap for others 'tis desirous, but for me it was not enviable." Self-consciously, she lifted a hand to smooth the linen about her face.
Immediately, the baron intercepted the movement, pushing her hand away. "How touching your tale," he sneered, then reached up and fingered the chin strap of her wimple.
"Nay," she protested, thinking he intended to snatch it from her. In a poor attempt to evade him she jerked her head back, but his hand came around the nape of her neck and pulled her face near again.
"I was told Charwyck's daughter bore the mark of the devil," he said, his mouth near hers, his thumb stroking her jaw. "Is it this you hid from me yester-eve?"
She swallowed, then nodded.
"Show me." He withdrew his hand and leaned back, his eyes daring her to take advantage of the uncertain escape he afforded her.
At first Graeye was too surprised to do anything but stare dumbly at him. "Why didn't he simply do it himself? she wondered. Was it consideration, or merely an attempt to humiliate her further?
Reluctantly, she complied. Gripping the pieces of linen tightly in her fist, she raised her gaze back to his, waiting for the response she was certain would follow.
"Clearer and clearer," he murmured, ignoring her distress as his gaze settled near her left brow. "'Twas a game I thought you played last night. I should have guessed...." He shifted his attention back to her light-eyed stare.
&nb
sp; "Necessary," she breathed, ardently wishing she might be delivered from this heart-rending confrontation. She bowed her head again, her silken curtain of hair falling between them.
"Then you misjudged me," he said so softly, his words started her heart hammering.
Her head snapped up, and for a moment she was allowed a glimpse of that other elusive man she had treasured. And then he was gone.
Smoothly, he slid back into the one she now feared. "You see," he said, his lips curling as he fingered the golden strands of hair pooled upon his thigh, "I have as much belief in the devil as I do God. Nay, perhaps more." He reached up and ran rough fingertips over the faint stain.
Graeye did not flinch, though her heart plummeted further with this new intrusion.
"Still," he said with a weary shrug, "after your deception, I daresay there might well be something to this. " Twould seem—"
"Enough!" The anguished cry wrenched itself from her throat. All her life she had been looked upon with suspicion, but now, with her world crashing down around her, she simply could take no more accusations—and most especially from this mana man to whom she had given her most precious possession.
Driven by renewed anger, she was unable to check the reckless impulse to wipe the derision from his face. She raised her arm, and a moment later was amazed at the ease with which she landed her palm to his face. With the exception of William, never before had she struck another.
"I am but a human being cursed to bear a mark set upon my face—not by the devil, but by God." In her tirade she paid no heed to the spreading red left by her hand, nor the sparkle of fury that leaped to Balmaine's eyes.
" 'Tis a mark of birth, naught else," she continued.
"You have nothing to fear from me that you would not fear from another."
"So the little one has claws, eh?" He made the observation between clenched teeth. " 'Tis as I thought."
One moment Graeye was upright, face-to-face with this hard, angry man, and the next she-was on her back, that same face above hers as those spectacular orbs bored into her.
"Had I the time or inclination," he said, "I might be tempted to tame that terrible temper of yours. But as I've neither, you will have to content yourself with this."
Temper? But she didn't— Graeye had no time to ponder his estimation of her nature before she felt his mouth on hers. The thought to resist never entered her mind.
When he urged her to open to him, she parted her lips with a sigh and took him inside. Slowly, his tongue began an exploration of the sensitive places within— places he knew better than she.
Turning away from the insistent voices that urged her to exercise caution, she welcomed the invasion and recklessly wound her arms around him, pressing herself to his hard curves. When has hand slid between them to stroke that place below her belly, she arched against it.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, it was over, and she was left to stare up at the man who had so effortlessly disengaged himself from her.
In the blink of an eye he had turned from passionate lover to cold and distant adversary. How was it he had such control over his emotions when^she had none? Was she too long suppressed?
"I may have fallen prey to your wiles last eventide," he said, smoothing his hands down his tunic. "But I assure you I have no intention of paying the price you would ask for such an unfortunate tryst. Your scheme has failed, Lady Graeye."
To gather her wits about her after such a thorough attack upon her traitorous senses was not an easy thing, but the impact of his words made it less difficult than it would otherwise have been. Doing her utmost to put behind what had just occurred, she lifted herself from the bench and stood before him.
"You err," she said in a terribly small voice that made her wince. Drawing a deep breath, she delivered her next words with more assurance. "There is naught I want from you that you have not already given."
His eyes narrowed. "And what do you think you have stolen from me?"
She lifted her chin a notch, refusing to be drawn into a futile argument as to whether she had stolen or been given his caresses.
"Though you do not believe me," she said, "I tell you true that I did not know who you were until this morn. Twas freedom from the Church I hoped to gain, not a husband—that is what you gave me."
Nostrils flaring, Balmaine gave a short bark of laughter. "Be assured, Lady Graeye," he said as he adjusted his sword on its belt, "you will return to the abbey. Though you are no longer pure enough to become a nun, there will be a place for you there at the convent. You will go ... even if I have to drag you there myself."
The convent... She took a step nearer him. " 'Tis not your decision whether—"
His hand sliced impatiently through the air. "Ultimately, everything that has anything to do with Medland is under my control. You had best accept it and resign yourself to entering the convent."
Her heart began to hammer against her ribs. Was what he said true? Could he, in fact, usurp her father's rights over her? If so, since he was determined to return her to Arlecy, all would have been for naught. Biting her lip, she bowed her head and focused upon the hilt of his sword.
"Then I would ask you to reconsider, Baron Balmaine, and allow me to remain with my father. He is not well and in need of someone—"
"The decision has been made," he interrupted again, then turned on his heel and strode away.
Even if Graeye could have contained the anger flaring through her, she would not have. There was nothing left to lose. "You have a rather nasty penchant for rudely interrupting when one is trying to speak," she snapped. " 'Tis something you really ought to work at correcting."
Seething, she stared at his back, willing him to turn again.
He did not disappoint her, returning to tower over her and looking every bit the barbarian. "In future, if you have anything to say to me, Lady Graeye, I would prefer you address my face rather than my back. Do you understand?"
Though she knew he could easily crush her between his hands if he so desired—and at that moment he certainly looked tempted to=—Graeye managed to quell the instinct to cower. After all, considering the fate that awaited her, it hardly mattered what he might do. She gathered the last shreds of her courage about her and drew herself up, utilizing every hair's breadth of height she had.
"In future, you say?" She gave a short, bitter laugh. "As we have no future together, Baron, 'tis an entirely absurd request. Or should I say 'order' ?"
His lids snapped down to narrow slits, a vein in his forehead leaping to life. "Sheathe your claws, little cat," he hissed, his clenched fists testament to the control he was exercising. "The day is still young and we have games yet to play."
Then he was walking away again, leaving her to stare after him with a face turned fearful.
Chapter 6
It was midday before Graeye finally summoned enough courage to leave the chapel. Stepping out into the gloom of a day shot through with heavy clouds, she saw that the castlefolk had resumed the labors she had-set them to weeks ago. She was grateful for this small mercy, but still felt a multitude of eyes turn upon her.
Aye, they were curious as to their new baron's interest in her—something he could not have made more clear by his following her to the chapel. It must have caused a great commotion ... and a good deal of speculation. Fearing the worst of their hastily drawn conclusions, Graeye told herself she didn't care what any of them thought, but she was only lying to herself.
At least now she had a plan—or the beginnings thereof, she reassured herself as she determinedly put one foot before the other. It had not been easy formulating it, but she had used her time of prayer to ask for guidance, and the idea had slowly come to her. Though not the best solution, it seemed the only one available to her.
With firm resolve, she smoothed her wimple and tossed her chin high. She crossed to the watchtower, certain she would find Sir Abelaard nearby. If anyone knew where her father was, she was confident it would be the king's man. He had b
een given the responsibility of making certain Edward did not cause further trouble. In fact, if her suspicions proved correct, he had likely seen the old baron locked up for Balmaine's arrival.
So many new faces, she thought of those she passed. It appeared Gilbert Balmaine had brought a great number with him, likely having anticipated meeting with resistance. It must have greatly amused him to simply ride in and have the castle handed over to him without so much as a scrap of opposition. But, of course, the king's men had made the road smooth for him.
To her relief Graeye did, indeed, find Sir Abelaard. He was just inside the watchtower, speaking with another knight who displayed the colors of Balmaine.
"Lady Graeye," he said, disengaging himself from his conversation and walking over to her. "You are looking for your father?"
"Aye. He is above?"
"Nay. Baron Balmaine sent for him a short while ago. He has been taken to the hall."
Already? Graeye had not thought the man would have turned his attention to Edward so soon. What did he intend?
"Know you what is to become of my father?" she asked.
The knight seemed at a loss for words, his brow furrowing as he considered her silent appeal for reassurance. Grimacing, he glanced back, sending Balmaine's man a questioning look.
The other knight stepped forward. "Lady Graeye, I am Sir Lancelyn," he said, reaching to take her hand.
Graeye took a step backward, firmly clasping both hands at her waist.
Her action raised an eyebrow, but otherwise elicited no response of the kind she would have expected after such a snub. With a hint of a smile the man drew himself fully upright. "The baron is a fair man, my lady. I am certain he will deal justly with your father."
"My father has done nothing wrong."
He shrugged. " 'Tis up to the baron to determine that."
Frustrated, Graeye swung around.
"My lady," Sir Lancelyn said, "if the hall is your destination, 'tis not likely you will be received within until the baron has concluded his business."