As Kiera scurried off toward the screened area, she looked as stricken as if it were her own hair that Osburn had cut off.
Isabelle glared at the gloating Osburn and Heinrich and DeFrouchette, too, before she turned on her heel and marched toward the tower.
Chapter 8
Three days later, as the sun fell below the rugged hills beyond the ruined castle, Isabelle stood alone on the wall walk near the tower that housed her chamber. For once, she had managed to leave the hall without being followed by DeFrouchette, who was indeed like a watchdog—a large, muscular and grimly silent watchdog, better looking than the hounds that roved the hall and the courtyard at night, but no doubt just as fierce.
For now, though, as she looked out over the Norse encampment below, he was not near, and neither were any of the Brabancon sentries who were further down the wall from her tower. Seagulls wheeled and cried, and the sea in the bay looked just as restless as the birds.
The damp wind, tasting of salt, tugged hard at her garments, and she wrapped Kiera’s woolen cloak more tightly about herself. Her hair, or what was left of it, whipped about her face, and she had to squint to see the Norsemen moving about below.
Several tents had been set up to house Ingar and his men. The pieces of wood that supported the ridgepoles had been carved into the heads of dragons. Iron pots suspended on metal tripods hung over their fires, and the scent of the smoke came to her on the stiff breeze.
Ingar and his men were like a nest of dragons blocking any escape by water, even if she could have found a boat to take her away. Indeed, short of sprouting wings like a gull and flying off, she would never be able to escape by sea.
But she was determined to find another way. In her chamber she had already discovered that several stones around one of the loopholes were loose. After digging out the mortar as carefully and quietly as she could during the night, she could remove enough stones so that she could squeeze through the opening. She would still be several yards above the ground, so she would need a rope, but she had already started to make one using strips of fabric. She had stolen any rag she could find, and if Kiera ever changed the linen on her bed, she would discover that the bottom sheet was but half there. Her shift was several inches shorter, too.
If she could make the rope long enough to get down to the wall walk, then climb from there to the ground, she could get out of this fortress, and avoid the hounds that prowled the courtyard at night, too. It would be a difficult, dangerous and desperate chance, but she was willing to take it.
She had no faith that Osburn would continue to ignore her except to jeer or sneer at her, or that Heinrich and his Brabancons could be kept on their leash. Although the mercenaries did not approach her, they watched her with hungry eyes.
Not only was she in physical danger, she could not deny that the stress and anxiety were clearly upsetting her mind. She could hardly sleep, and when she did, it was troubled and far from restful. Last night had been the worst of all, for she had dreamt of being in DeFrouchette’s arms.
Making love with him. Passionately.
In her dream he had come to her chamber at Bellevoire; how, she hadn’t known or cared. At first, she had felt an overwhelming joy that she was safe, even when she had seen him standing at the foot of the bed, clothed all in black, his blue eyes bright and gleaming in the candlelight. She had been surprised, but not afraid. She had been … excited.
He’d slowly come around the bed toward her, his eyes and their piercing, seeking stare never leaving her face. Without saying a word, he’d started to disrobe—and she’d said nothing to stop him. She’d even wondered what was taking him so long. When the last of his clothing had dropped to the floor, she had held open the coverings. She had not merely allowed him into her bed; she had welcomed him there.
She flushed to think of all that she had dreamt after that, of his impassioned kisses and thrilling caresses, his hands on her naked body, gliding over her skin with a touch so light, it could have been the brush of soft fabric. Then, when he put his hands between her thighs, he had pressed a little harder, until she began to writhe, her whole body undulating with need. His lips had trailed slowly across her breasts, as if he would explore them until he’d memorized every minute inch.
Then he had moved between her legs and looked at her with sure purpose, as if he’d known how much she’d wanted him to love her.
Closing her eyes, the most vivid moments lived again, including the one right before she’d awakened, when he’d been about to take her maidenhead, and she had been joyfully ready to surrender it.
“Enjoying the view, my lady?”
A curse flew from her lips as she whirled around to face DeFrouchette. He stood limned against the setting sun, his long dark hair blown back from his angular face, his lips set in a grim line, clad in the tunic he had let her wear. Her nipples tightened as if they were again being brushed against the rough wool that carried his scent.
How had he come there so quietly … or had she been too immersed in the memory of her dream to hear him?
Trying to recover, she said, “I am enjoying the fresh air, such as it is. This whole place stinks of fish and filthy men.”
“Most of the women are none too clean, either,” he remarked as he looked out over the Norse encampment.
“If you will excuse me,” she muttered, sidling toward the tower, and away from him.
He turned and looked at her. “I don’t.”
“I don’t need your permission.”
“Then why did you ask for it?”
“I was just… I was just being polite. Foolish of me, considering where I am.”
He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “I’m leaving with Ingar at dawn. I’m to take the ransom demand to your husband.”
Her mouth went dry. He was the only thing keeping her safe from Osburn and the others, and he was leaving her.
He pushed himself off and closed the short distance between them. “Before I go, I have two things to say to you. The first is that Denis will protect you in my absence. He is a better fighter than he looks. Bigger men underestimate his speed and deftness. The second is to remind you that you gave me your word you would not try to escape again.”
She made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the fortress and the Norse encampment. “How could I? It would be impossible.”
“For most women, I would agree. But you, my lady, are not most women, as you have already demonstrated.”
Her heart started to pound with something that was both fear and … and something else she would not acknowledge. She backed away from him. “I can’t fly.”
“No, so there is no need for you to look for the places where the sentries cannot see, blind spots and shadows and the like. Nor should you study the men themselves so carefully.” He crossed his arms again as he regarded her. “I think that if I asked you, you could tell me to a man who is lax and who is not. Is that not so, my lady?”
Damn him. “Perhaps you are giving me ideas.”
“I think not.” Although his face was harder to see in the dim light as the sun disappeared, his tone revealed his exasperation. “Can you not see the uselessness of your actions?”
“I am merely getting some fresh air, as I said. Would you have me stay cooped up in that hall with those disgusting men leering at me?”
“The plan is to return you to your husband, but if you persist in putting yourself at risk, I cannot ensure your safety.”
“Now you sound just like Osburn, only not so drunk.”
“And that is another thing. Do not goad him. He may be a drunkard, but he is not the less dangerous for that.”
“How kind of you to be so concerned, but I am too valuable to be killed, am I not?”
“It is not only of death I am thinking.”
She would not admit that he sounded genuinely concerned for her well-being. “You are the one who put me at risk, DeFrouchette,” she said, reminding herself as well as him, “by kidnapping me an
d bringing me to this place. No amount of warnings or apparent concern for my welfare can change that.”
“I didn’t know about the Brabancons when I agreed to take you. I also thought this business would be more swiftly concluded.”
Once more in command of her emotions, and feeling as if his apparent remorse gave her the upper hand, if only for now, she said, “Poor DeFrouchette—it will take that much longer for you to get your money. As for the delays, is that not part of the plan, to torture my family? Do you not want Connor to suffer beyond leaving him impoverished?”
“I want to tell him to his face what he has done to me, and I want some portion of what should have been mine.” He took hold of her by the shoulders. “What I do, I do because I have been wronged by your husband. I am not like the Brabancons, or Osburn.”
As they stood in the shadow of the tower in the dusk, she heard remorse in his deep voice, as if he really had regrets.
If she could make him see that what he was doing was wrong, if she could convince him that his quarrel was not with her or even Connor, if there was indeed some vestige of honor and chivalry about him, maybe he would truly come to her aid. “My family has done nothing to deserve your wrath—nothing except suffer at your father’s hands before he met the end he brought upon himself. If wrong has been done to you, it was by your evil, traitorous father who sired you and did not acknowledge it. If you feel cheated, blame that same father who gave you nothing except a name that makes me want to spit the bile from my mouth when I speak it. If it is vengeance you want, take it out upon Oswald, who conspired with your father and avoided the king’s justice. You have done me a great wrong, yet there is still a way to make it right. Stop this now. Help me. Take me away from here.”
She put her hands on his chest and looked up into his face, trying to see his expression, his eyes. “If there is any goodness or honor in you, take me home.”
The memory of his fiery kiss flashed through her. If she could convince him to help her, in any way…
She slid her arms around his shoulders, raised herself on her toes and captured his mouth in a kiss as fierce and passionate as his had been.
For a moment, he was still—but only for a moment. Then he gathered her to him and lifted her off the ground as his mouth crushed hers with heated desire. Eager, she parted her lips and pushed her tongue between his teeth.
Still kissing her, he carried her to the tower wall and set her down, her back against the stones. One hand gently kneaded her breast while the other began to bunch her skirt, his knuckles grazing her thigh. His knee moved between her legs and she instinctively thrust against it, the sensation exquisite and mind-numbing.
Heady, savage excitement coursed through her body, and she could scarcely breathe.
Caught up in that same excitement, Alexander gave himself up to the pleasure of her embrace. The beautiful, spirited woman he had admired and craved from the first was in his arms, and kissing him willingly. Wonderfully. The sensation of her mouth and her lithe body against his, the taste and touch of her, set fires of passion burning in his blood.
A moan of surrender escaped his throat.
Why?
The word burst in upon him, unexpected and unwelcome, conquering the need coursing through him as the answer shot into his mind like an arrow from a bow.
With a savage twist of his head, he broke the kiss, then shoved her away from him. “You kiss very well, my lady, but if you think to bend me to your will, to have me like soft clay in your hands so I will do your bidding, you had best think again.”
As she stared back at him, he cocked his head to study her pink cheeks and slightly swollen lips in the dim, dusky light. She looked lovely and flushed with passion, as he would want a woman who desired him to appear.
It was a deception. He would be a fool to think there was anything more behind her kisses than an attempt to win him to her side by any means and help her escape.
She would rob him of his chance to have even a portion of his birthright.
“Is this how you worked upon my father, promising him your love while taking another man to your bed?”
Her body quivering, she stepped back. “No! There was nothing of love between your father and—and the object of his desire. He wanted Montclair and so he wanted the lady of Montclair. He lurked about our home like a bird of prey, waiting for the chance to take both, one way or another. I was the means to an end for him. You would use me just the same, yet you presume to stand there and tell me you are different.”
Alexander continued to regard her, his heart hard as granite because life had made it so. For an instant, it had cracked, but he would seal the rift.
He tugged her to him. “For the last time, my lady, I am not like my father, or Osburn and his mercenaries. If I were the kind of man you think I am, I would take what I want regardless of my promise not to touch you, like this.” One arm around her neck, he fondled her breast roughly, a gross mockery of his tender caresses.
He saw the fear and disgust warring in her eyes and told himself he didn’t care.
He pushed her hips against his hard arousal, the evidence of the savage desire she had kindled. “I would force myself upon you before I go mad with desire, and no power on this earth would stop me. But I am not like my father, or Osburn or a Brabancon, and I will not take a woman against her will, no matter how she inflames me. I would rather bed that whore in the hall than you, my fine, deceitful lady.”
She glared at him as if he were the most loathsome creature in the world. “Then get your hands off of me before I scream.”
“And summon the Brabancons? I think not.” He shoved her away. “Take care not to anger me too much, my lady, because thus far, and despite what you think of me, I have sworn to keep you safe while you are in my care. But if you do not want the protection I offer you, I will withdraw it, and you may fend for yourself with Osburn and his Brabancons. Is that what you wish, my lady?”
“Hardly a choice, DeFrouchette.”
Still insolent, still defiant.
“It is your choice to make, my lady, and I will not ask you again. Do you want my protection?”
“Yes!” she hissed, the word drawn out of her seemingly against her will.
“Then you shall have it, until the ransom is paid and you go back to your husband.
“As for my vengeance and the form it takes, until you know what I have suffered, until you have lived the life I was forced to lead, you cannot understand all that your husband stole from me. It was more than a title and more than land and more than money. Yet if he must pay in coin because that is the only way I can have any recompense, that is how it shall be.
“And understand this, my lady. I will not be prey to your feminine wiles again. I have your measure now, and although you could probably tempt an archangel to sin, you will never again tempt me.”
Breathing as hard as if he had run to Ingar’s ship and back, trying to control the flurry of emotions she had roused, he turned on his heel and left her.
His head bare, his hair blowing in the breeze, Alexander strode along the road to Bellevoire. His cloak was thrown over his shoulder and his broadsword slapped his thigh with every swift stride. Yesterday, Ingar had set him ashore a little farther up the coast, as they had planned. Mercifully, the weather had been clear and the wind brisk, so they had made a swift passage over the sea.
After Bellevoire’s lady had been taken, Sir Connor would surely have patrols and search parties all over his land. The plan was to either continue unhindered to Bellevoire, or allow himself to be found by a patrol. If that happened, he would tell them to take him to Sir Connor, and why.
Soon, it would be the moment he had dreamt of since Lord Oswald had found him and told him of his father’s death. Soon, he would face Sir Connor and watch the man’s expression as he told him why he had taken his wife and what he wanted in return.
He would not allow any worry about the lady to spoil that glorious moment for him. Denis could keep he
r safe until his return, and Osburn was too drunk most of the time to make good on his threats. Besides, the sot had his young mistress to distract him.
He would not wonder if his prize would try to escape in spite of what he had said. She was an intelligent woman, so surely she saw the merit in his warnings.
She was so intelligent that he had nearly been duped like any rustic at a village fair.
Head lowered, he quickened his pace. Damn the woman! How could he have been such a fool to have believed, even for an instant, that she’d kissed him because she’d felt desire for him?
But if you were in her shoes, would you not try any means to escape, too?
Hoofbeats sounded on the road, drowning out the nagging voice of his conscience. He raised his head to see a troop of mounted men riding toward him, their helmets and chain mail shining dully in the sunlight. He halted and waited as they approached. His heartbeat quickened the closer they came, but he would maintain an aura of calm. He had the upper hand, and he would act like it.
The gray-bearded man leading the patrol spotted Alexander, and he raised his hand to signal his men to rein in their horses. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice gruff and his manner that of a man who had been a soldier all his life.
“Are you a soldier of Bellevoire?” Alexander replied.
The man frowned as he studied him. “I am Godwin, the commander of the garrison of Bellevoire. I ask you again, who are you?”
Alexander bowed. “I give you greetings, Godwin, and I demand that you take me to your lord.”
“Demand?” Godwin retorted, glaring, while the men behind him began to whisper and mutter and nod at him.
“I have come with news of the lady of Bellevoire. I am sure your overlord will want to hear it. If you will be so good as to ask one of your men to loan me his horse, I believe we will get to Sir Connor all the faster.”
Godwin’s gaping mouth snapped shut. Then he twisted in his saddle and addressed his men. “Joss, double up with Robert and give this fellow your mount.”
The man did as he was ordered, and soon Alexander was riding beside Godwin, who regarded him with both suspicion and disdain. “What’s your name?” Godwin asked as they rode around the curve that skirted the wood where he had waited with Denis.
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