Joust of Hearts

by Genella deGrey

  The men blatantly laughed at her.

  “Hail, Sinclair!” A jovial voice came from the crowd. One of the men stood up and started walking toward Melisande and Corin.

  Melisande backed up against Corin for safety. “What is this?” she asked just above a whisper.

  “We are your new staff,” the tall, broad, rough-looking man jested with a sweep of his hand. The room lit up with laughter.

  Somewhere in the back of Melisande’s mind she detected a hint of a Highlander’s accent among the murmurings of the scoundrels who had somehow obtained entrance to her home.

  Corin held out his hand and grasped the other man’s arm in friendship. “It has been a long time, Erik.”

  “Too long, Corin. You are still as ugly as sin, though!” The men who were gathered around the tables and brazier, shared laughter between them, as if a private jest had been presented.

  “Where is Jeremy?” Corin asked the man.

  Erik raked Melisande from head to toe with an insolent gaze, then focused back on Corin and winked. “Jeremy is otherwise occupied.”

  The assembled men in the room hooted and whistled.

  Melisande stepped away from Corin and whirled around. “Explain this invasion of my home, Corin Sinclair,” she demanded, growing more furious by the moment. “Who do you think you are, inviting these—these people into my home?”

  “Erik, would you please excuse Lady Dupree and me? I believe the time has come to let her in on our little secret.”

  The man Erik leered at Melisande once again. He elbowed Corin in the ribs and spoke as if she were not even in the room. “I’ll wager she’s a tasty morsel of flesh.” He swaggered back to the men and said something to them that Melisande did not hear. They grunted, whistled and made lewd noises at Corin and Melisande.

  Corin led Melisande to the top of the stairs and into the first chamber he could find. “Very nice, Melisande. It has a feminine touch and yet seems strong,” he remarked, mocking her, she was sure.

  “Corin, if you wanted your own staff to move in, why did you not just ask? And how could you tolerate such impertinence from them?”

  “Love, I am afraid you do not understand. The Sinclairs have taken Dupree Castle in the name of the house of York and Elizabeth Stuart.”

  “No. I don’t believe it. Who is York?”

  “That is right, you are still young and would not remember the War of the Roses.”

  “I do. I remember that it is over. Corin, you had best be forthcoming, for my patience is already in shreds.”

  Corin gave Melisande a smug grin. “Queen Elizabeth Stuart is of the House of York,” he explained.

  “Nay, Queen Elizabeth is married to our king, Henry Tudor, and is now such.”

  “Well, that is also correct, but there are those of us who think Elizabeth of York should have the throne for herself. She should be the rightful ruler over England.”

  “She would never go against the King. ’Twould be treason!”

  “Regardless, we intend to take the throne and give the crown to Queen Elizabeth Stuart.”

  “Correct me if I am wrong, but the Queen has no knowledge of this, does she?”

  Corin grinned at Melisande, and she wondered how she had ever seen him as handsome.

  “We were hoping it would be a surprise,” he drawled lazily.

  “’Twill never happen!” she yelled. “You and your horde of bandits will be executed before Elizabeth ever hears of this scandal!”

  “And just who will foil our plans, you?”

  “Mayhaps.”

  Corin grabbed Melisande roughly by the arms. “I will give you one chance to join this fight and stand by my side as my wife or be trampled with the rest of Henry’s loyal subjects. You may choose the easy path or the difficult one. Which will it be?”

  “I will never join with you—in marriage or war.” She held fast to her courage and spat in Corin’s face.

  Corin shoved her across the room and she fell, tripping on her long surcoat.

  Wiping his face on his sleeve, he glared down at her.

  She attempted to rise, but her boots were all tangled within the fabric of her gown.

  He bounded after her and dropped to the floor, only to hold her down with his body. She could feel his hot breath on her face and it nearly made her retch.

  “You have made your choice, but mark my words. I will have what is coming to me, you little tease. Erik!” he bellowed down to the men. “Have someone open the tower for the former mistress of Dupree.”

  Two men appeared at the top of the stairs and Corin pushed himself up from atop Melisande. She kicked her skirts aside, gathered herself up off the floor and tried to run past the men. Without much effort on their parts, they caught her by the arms and took her down a corridor and up two more long stretches of stairs toward the tower.

  Inside the tower room was as cold and dank as any pit in Christendom must have been. A third man appeared with a torch to light the others around the circular room. All three men departed and she heard a heavy piece of wood fall across the outside of the door, likely blocking any attempt at escape.

  Melisande pounded on the door until her fists felt bruised. She paced around the room, too angry to cry and too infuriated to think clearly. After some time had passed, she collapsed in the center of the room and her tears came with the help of gut-wrenching sobs, strong enough to strip her throat of skin, making her sick to her stomach.

  Dear God. Helena was right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The door flew open and Melisande rolled over on the cold stone floor, shivering, oblivious to whether it was day or night. The torches had long since burned out and her eyes stung from crying.

  “There now, let me warm you.”

  “Corin?” Melisande asked as she felt a pile of furs tossed across her feet. “Corin, why are you allowing this happen to me? To my home?”

  “Shhh… Do not speak,” the husky male voice urged as Melisande was pulled to a seated position.

  Two arms wrapped around Melisande. Her body said stay, but her heart and mind simultaneously screamed a warning. She started to weep and tried to shrug away from the human touch. The arms tightened around her roughly and she was pulled again to the ground. A demanding hand slid up her leg and came to rest atop her naked thigh, squeezing, kneading.

  “Nay!” she screamed as she clenched her knees together, blocking the probing fingers from venturing further.

  “Just a quick fuck… I have in my possession where you dwell and now I must also have you,” the voice whispered gruffly against her ear and a not so freshly shaven jaw scraped against her cheek. As he kissed her, he left cold wet spots where his lips touched her neck and face.

  Melisande tried futilely to twist her body away from the vile assailant. She could only guess that the man she had almost taken to her bed at Willowbrook was now in her company. In one quick motion, her leg came up and connected with his groin, and he rolled away from her, moaning in pain. It was most unfortunate that he now blocked her only retreat.

  With renewed vigor, Melisande leaped to her feet and backed up against the wall.

  The shadowed figure staggered to an upright position. It only took him two strides to reach her. “You bloody bitch!” he shrieked and he slammed the back of his hand into her cheek.

  She found herself on the ground again, this time holding the side of her face with her hand, attempting in vain to see through the evanescence of stars before her eyes.

  “I will never, ever warm your bed, Corin Sinclair!” she yelled through her pain in his general direction.

  He laughed. “I am sorry, Lady Dupree, we have not been properly introduced.” He paused and she heard him walk across the floor of her prison. “I am Jeremy Sinclair, Corin’s twin brother.” And with that, he took his exit and threw the door shut, and she heard the wooden barrier as it was slammed back into its holder.

  Still in pain from the assault, Melisande crawled over to the furs, covered h
er body, and cried herself into exhaustion.

  * * * *

  The rain continued through the wee hours of the morning. Melisande awoke to the musty smell of her cell mixed with the ominous feeling of certain doom. She decided to sit against the oak door so that she could be alerted sooner if someone approached. She gathered the furs, her only saving grace from the night before, and laid her head against the old wood. She had lived in this castle for almost five years and only once walked past the stairs that led to the room, not paying any mind either to the stairs nor the room.

  As she looked about, she noticed one shutter-covered window, which she had not noticed in the dark when she was brought in last eve. High upon the wall it was, yet just low enough to be accessible. If she rolled the furs into a tight ball and stood on them, and if she stretched up onto the tips of her toes, she could reach it. Then, if God would be merciful, she might be able to pull herself up and escape through it.

  She went to the window and divested herself of her surcoat to add to the makeshift step. She stood on top of the pile and pulled at the shutter. It felt as if it were a part of the stone wall. She pried at the wood with all her might and it finally swung open with such force that it crashed inward, still attached to the wall by its crude rope hinges. At the sound of footsteps, Melisande ran back to the door, put her ear to it, and listened for a moment. It must have been her imagination, for not a sound could be heard in the corridor. She went back to the window, pulled herself up, and climbed through the portal. Once she was out of the tower, she lowered herself over the side of the wall walk. For a moment, she dangled by her hands, fearful of the long drop to the battlements below.

  * * * *

  “So, you have not bedded the wench as of yet, brother?” Jeremy Sinclair taunted his twin.

  “Nay, but don’t think that I couldn’t. After all, ’twas she who confessed to the wanting of me, even before I suggested it,” Corin casually stated with an aristocratic wave of his hand.

  Jeremy laughed with a mouth full of meat and the sound echoed through the hall. “I just might have to ask her if that is true or not,” he replied, as if he didn’t believe him.

  “Why do you not ask her now, Jeremy?” Erik said as he pushed Melisande into the room, both of them soaked to the skin. “I found her running across the courtyard toward the gatehouse.”

  Jeremy stood and strode over to her. “I am impressed,” he sneered, circling her like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. “I would never have guessed you had it in you to attempt such a feat.” Then Jeremy snapped at Erik. “Show me exactly how she escaped and we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He and Erik crossed the room to the doors. “She is a feisty one. You always knew how to pick the women, brother,” Jeremy commented wryly over his shoulder, and they quit the hall.

  Helpless and alone, Melisande lifted her gaze to glare at Corin. He stood and walked toward her. She made to recoil when he grabbed her arm, but he caught her regardless. “Back to the tower—I mean, your chamber, m’lady.”

  He pushed her up the main stairs and down the corridor to the longer staircases that led to the tower. Clutching her upper arm with a vise-like grip, Corin lifted the heavy plank with one hand and tossed it aside. Once inside, he threw her in and shut the door behind them.

  Melisande couldn’t believe her escape attempt had been thwarted. She hadn’t been three steps from the gates when that Erik had snatched her up and dragged her back into the hall to her captors.

  “Now I am going to do my part to make sure you do not try to escape again.” He approached Melisande and attempted to remove her belt.

  “Nay!” she shouted and placed her hands over her middle, backing away from him.

  Corin caught up with her and pried her arms away without any effort whatsoever. He tore the belt from her, bruising the sides of her ribs, then proceeded to rip her tunic down the front as if it were a sheet of parchment. She tried with all her might to push him away, but he was by far stronger than she. He plucked her torn tunic from her body and kicked it along with the belt toward the door, leaving her with only her short chemise. Corin then ordered her to remove her leg coverings and boots. Melisande shook her head. Undaunted, he replied, “If you do not, I will. And what a pleasure it will be.” He eyed her up and down as he was wont to do of late, a leering grin touching the corners of his mouth.

  Melisande leaned against the wall, groping at her hose and boots, tossing them at his feet.

  “You are quite a vision, standing there in your undergarments that are so wet one could almost see right through them.”

  With a loud sob, Melisande covered her front with her arms.

  Corin started toward her. She tried to step away but his hands landed on either side of her on the wall behind.

  “Tonight you will be so cold, you will come to my bed willingly,” he said in a low voice.

  “Never!” she shouted. “I should like to freeze to death before—” Her loud declaration was interrupted when the unmistakable clatter of steel came from the corridor.

  Corin cocked his head and considered the sound for a moment, then turned back to Melisande. “Do not try to run away again. I am posting two guards on the path below. I will most likely not see you again until you crawl under my coverlet this night.” He pushed away from the wall and, with a slight bow in her direction, bade her farewell. Corin kicked the furs and the wet garments out of the door and shut it. She listened as the timber plank slammed into place and shivered.

  Just then, Jeremy pushed his way through the small window above and Melisande stepped into the center of the room, looking up at him as he stood on the ledge. She stared at him, noting the strong similarities between the twins—their manners of speech as well as their features—save for the scruffy visage of Jeremy.

  “It seems someone else wants Dupree for themselves, but I am confident that my men can take care of things.” Jeremy jumped down, tossed his sword to the floor and started toward her. “I thought that while they are winning the battle downstairs, I shall claim you as a prize for myself.” Taking a slow, lingering visual assessment, he added crudely, “I see that someone has made you ready for me. I should find them later and offer my thanks.”

  Melisande glanced at her surroundings and realized that there was nowhere for her to run. In seconds his arms had encircled her, his body pressing against hers. A scream welled up in her lungs and she let it loose like a flaming arrow. Jeremy tried to cover her scream with his mouth but Melisande bit his lip. His blood oozed between their faces. He pulled away, grunted, touched his lip and smiled at her. He then grabbed her hands, which clung to her chemise, and forced her to the cold stone floor. He moved on top of her and uttered against her ear, “The very sound of battle makes me hard.”

  “Nay!” Melisande screamed. At the same time, she heard someone shout her name.

  Jeremy started to raise the hem of her chemise when a noise at the window stopped him. They both glanced up to find Sir Devin Blackburn dropping to the floor, his sword in hand. He looked to Melisande like a dark avenging angel.

  “Blackburn,” Jeremy said, smiling, rolling from their horizontal position. He jumped up and retrieved his sword from the floor.

  “Sinclair, ready yourself for a second defeat,” Devin murmured confidently.

  Melisande scrambled to her feet and pressed her back to the door. At the first clash of weapons, Melisande covered her ears with both hands. The two large men were matched evenly and for every blow that was given, one was returned with the same force. They circled each other, waiting for an opportunity to attack. Jeremy lunged at Devin and they fell to the floor with a great thud. Their swords fell away and they each grabbed a handful of the other’s clothing. As the two men exchanged fisted blows, they scraped across the floor, but could go no farther than the stone wall would allow.

  Jeremy retrieved a concealed dagger from his boot and stabbed Devin in the arm through his chain mail. Devin gritted his teeth and an anguished sound escaped his
throat. He shoved the small weapon away. Blood gushed from his wound and he sneered at Jeremy.

  In one swift movement, Devin lunged at Jeremy. Raging fury shone on Devin’s face as he took hold of the man who’d attempted to ravish her. He lifted the villain up and slammed him head first into the wall.

  Life and strength seemed to leave Jeremy as he lay upon the floor.

  Devin rolled away from him and came to his feet. He turned to Melisande and started toward her.

  Still frozen in horror, she managed to point at Jeremy. Devin got to his feet and turned to find Jeremy, whose blood ran profusely from a wound somewhere on the top of his head. He threw his dagger at Devin’s back. However, it being a weak toss, the dagger fell to the floor, missing its mark. Devin picked the blade up and flung it back at Jeremy, who took it in the heart.

  Melisande stood by the door shivering, unaware until now that she had been sobbing aloud while the men fought.

  As if the clouds had moved away from the sun on purpose, light filled the dreary room through the high window and with it lifted an imaginary shroud from her eyes. Knight or not, she could not bear to exist without the man before her. She had been horribly deceived by beauty and courtly manners and needed to confess all to him. Somehow, through the madness that not moments ago had threatened to overtake her mind, she tried to find her voice, but it was too much too soon. A tunnel of black swallowed up her vision, and she was unable to stop it. Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt Devin take her up in his arms.

  “Hush now, love. Dupree is safe,” he cooed to her.

  Melisande wept, but did not speak for quite some time.

  Devin held her close and whispered tenderly, “I vow here and now with my body, heart and soul to protect you. Always. You’ve had my heart since I first heard your voice at the Willowbrook games,” he said, his lips brushing lightly against her temple. “When I heard you call out to me over the wall at Windsor, it took all that I had within me not to turn back and run to you.” His voice turned tremulous. “My lady, my love, you are my life. I’d be the worst of fools not to take you to wife.”