Gart grinned. “I believe David has already taken that crown.”
Erik found a cup with wine and downed it. “That is the truth,” he laughed. “But there is more foolery out there for us to get tangled up in. And more wenches.”
Gart simply grinned. “Unless Juston sends us out on errands, I’m afraid our activities will be confined to Bowes,” he said. “There are no wenches here.”
“There are two that I’ve seen,” Gillem spoke up. “One was just here, the one Juston removed from the chamber when he left. I would not be surprised if she ended up in his bed.”
Erik and Gart looked at Gillem, who was slurring his words as the result of too much wine. In fact, Gillem had been sitting in silence, not really listening to the banter between Erik and Gart. His attention was elsewhere, lingering on the expression Juston had given the woman who had been serving them, one of the women who had been somehow associated with de la Roarke. He wasn’t sure if it was the man’s wife or not, as he’d heard she’d been captured, but the way Juston had looked at the woman… he hadn’t liked it at all.
“That is the sister to the lady of the keep,” Gart told him. “She has been giving Juston some trouble, I think.”
Gillem looked at him. “Did you not see the way he looked at her?” he asked. “I have seen that look on his face before when it comes to a woman. She will end up in his bed.”
Gart shrugged. “It is his privilege.”
Gillem didn’t like that answer. “So he can beget another woman with a bastard?” he snapped. “He already has one. He does not need any more!”
Gart frowned. “God’s Bones, Gillem,” he grunted. “Keep your mouth shut or it will get you into trouble. Go to bed. You are drunk.”
Gillem wouldn’t leave. “He should not be looking at another woman,” he said. “He has my sister, but he ignores her!”
Gart thumped Erik on the arm, indicating for the man to stand up. Erik, having heard of the situation between Gillem’s sister and de Royans before, didn’t want to hear anything more about it. He didn’t care, much as Gart didn’t. As he and Gart stood up, Gart turned to Gillem.
“Go to bed,” he repeated. “And what Juston does is his own business. It is not up to you to tell him what he can and cannot do.”
Gillem, grumpy and drunk, pretended to ignore him. But once Gart and Erik left the chamber, Gillem sat alone and stewed in his own resentment. Juston had no right to show attention to any woman considering what he’d done to Sybilla. Sybilla, in fact, had lived a chaste and modest life since bearing Juston’s bastard, raising the boy lovingly, hoping that Juston would come to his senses and marry her.
It was true that Juston was the master of his own destiny. No one could tell him what to do and what not to do. But, as Gillem saw it, perhaps he needed a little help.
Perhaps temptation needed to be removed from him.
Temptation in the form of one of his female prisoners.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I was not deliberately eavesdropping,” Emera said firmly. “I was simply helping serve your men. Our servants are stretched thin as it is and with all of the men in the hall, I simply sought to help. That is all.”
Standing in the master’s chamber, Juston faced Emera with his hands on his hips. The expression on his face was one of suspicion.
“I left you in the inner bailey,” he said. “You were there when my knights arrived. You heard that they had something important to tell me. The next I realized, you were in the chamber where we had our private discussion and you were there the entire time.”
He was right, essentially, but Emera wasn’t sure she could explain that she was eavesdropping out of curiosity and not malicious intent. In fact, she didn’t want to discuss it with him at all.
“I told you why I was there, my lord,” she said. “It is your choice whether or not you believe me. May I have your permission to leave now?”
He eyed her, trying to determine if she was, in fact, telling the truth. Having only known her a short amount of time, he was concerned that his attraction to her had caused him to overlook any character flaws. A liar, perhaps, or even a betrayer. She had sworn that she would not escape and he said he believed her. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Was she up to something?
“Go where?” he asked.
Emera was frustrated; it showed in her manner. “Down to the vault,” she said. “Down to where the other prisoners are. I will go down there and remain down there since trying to resume my duties is evidently upsetting to you.”
Juston frowned. “It is not upsetting to me,” he said. “But you heard some privileged information whilst serving my men. How do I know you are not going to run off and divulge it to Henry’s loyalists?”
“I do not know any of Henry’s loyalists!”
“Your father was a la Marche. You are embedded in Henry’s cause whether or not you have made the conscious choice to do so.”
Emera was coming to understand what he meant and it infuriated her. “You mean that no matter what I say, no matter how much I tell you that I have no loyalties, you will not believe me when I tell you I was not serving your men to gain information?”
He looked at her with an expression that told her far more than words could. Now, embarrassment joined her rage and she turned away from him, unable to look him in the face any longer.
“I am not a liar and I do not go back on my word,” she said. “I told you that you needn’t worry about me but you do not believe me. I told you yesterday that I am ignorant of war etiquette. Even if I did have information to give to Henry’s loyalists, I would not know how to go about it. Think what you will, my lord, but I am not the devious maid you evidently think I am. Now, I am going to go back to the vault where I belong.”
She started to move towards the spiral stairs but he stopped her. “Hold, lady,” he said. “I have not given you permission to leave yet.”
She paused, cocked her head slightly as if listening to him, and then continued on just as she pleased. Enraged that she should disobey him so, but not particularly surprised, he charged after her and caught her when she was about halfway down. Once he grabbed her, she turned into a wildcat, hissing and slapping at him, throwing herself down on the stairs as he dragged her up, step by step.
When they finally reached the master’s chamber, he continued dragging her into the smaller chamber beyond. Once inside, he tossed her onto the small bed and slammed the door, bolting it so she could not escape. He stood there on the inside of the room, by the door, and scowled.
“You are a wholly disagreeable female and if I had any sense, I would lock you up in the gaol down below and melt down the key,” he snapped. “You are headstrong and stubborn and a fickle inch from a sound thrashing if you do that again. Do you understand?”
Frowning deeply and quite upset, Emera sat up on the bed, pushing her hair from her eyes. “I was simply going down where I belonged,” she said. “You have no further use of me, I am sure, unless you simply wish to berate me some more.”
“What I do is none of your concern.”
“I have heard everything you have said. Bellowing it at me is not going to make any difference!”
His eyes narrowed. He was coming to realize that she walked a very fine line between courage and stubbornness. And stupidity as far as he was concerned. He held up a finger.
“It might,” he said. “It might do a world of difference to bellow it at you so I can impart some wisdom into your thick head. I never told you I did not believe you. I simply questioned your presence in the smaller chamber when I was having the private conversation with my men. As commander of an enemy installation, and with you as my prisoner, it is my duty to question your presence in order to keep my men safe. I would be a poor commander if that was not my priority.”
Emera understood, somewhat, but she was still offended. “And it is my priority to keep me safe,” she said. “Whatever happens to Bowes happens to me. Aye, I heard what your men said.
Messengers have been sent out to Henry’s loyalists. I can tell you that the garrison commander at Richmond was an ally of Brey’s. His name is Dev de Winter and his family hails from Norfolk. I know this because he has come to visit Bowes and he has brought his wife with him. She is very nice but she is also sickly. The last I heard, she was with child and not faring at all well. Had you asked me any of this, I would have told you. Even if Richmond had received word of Bowes’ siege, Deverell de Winter is very attached to his wife and if she has passed, then it might make putting duty before his grief difficult.”
Juston listened with great interest and great astonishment. “How would you know any of this?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Because I served the men at Bowes, including Brey, much as I served your men this evening,” she said. “I have heard Brey discussing de Winter and Richmond.”
Juston’s anger with her was quickly evaporating. “What else do you know?”
Emera, too, was forgetting her irritation with the man. Odd how she was willing to so quickly overlook his insults. “I have heard Brey speak of de Puiset in unfavorable terms,” she said. “He did not like him. He felt him ineffectual and weak. He has sided with Richard in the past.”
“I know.”
“He sides with Henry now. Brey says that he is a faithless woman, supporting one man and then another.”
“What else did he say?”
She shrugged. “That the bishop does not like to winter in Durham,” she said. “I have heard Brey say that de Puiset is unreliable because he takes his army and winters to the south.”
That bit of news drew a reaction. “Where in the south?”
She shook her head. “I do not know,” she said. “I never asked. But it seems to me that if he has gone south, then he was not at Auckland when the messengers arrived.”
It was an astonishing bit of news. Juston was fed by the possibilities of it but, in the same breath, he wasn’t entirely sure he could believe her. She was the enemy, after all.
… wasn’t she?
“God help you if you are not being honest with me,” he said. “Do you swear upon your mother’s grave that this is the truth?”
“Of course I do.”
“Will your sister tell me the same thing?”
“If she heard Brey say such things, then I am sure she will.”
“You will not mind if I ask her?”
“I would encourage you to.”
That gave her a bit more credibility as far as he was concerned. A liar would not be so quick to have her lies discounted. But he hadn’t lived this long giving utter faith to people he didn’t know. After a moment, he shook his head in wonder.
“You freely give me information that is strategic to my command,” he said. “Why?”
Emera averted her gaze. “I am not entirely sure of that myself,” she said. “All I know is that when you took Bowes from Brey, you freed me from a terrible prison I had been living in for two years. My sister seems to think we are worse off than we were before, but I do not think so. You have been kinder and more fair to me than Brey ever was. In a sense, you saved me from him. You even called me beautiful. Mayhap I am a fool, but I feel gratitude towards you.”
Either she was a very smooth liar or she was being openly truthful. In fact, she reeked of sincerity. Any anger or frustration Juston had been feeling towards her vanished as that word was introduced between them again – gratitude. The last time she’d expressed that sentiment, he wondered if she would willingly demonstrate that sense of thanks. As he’d mulled over before, a thankful woman might be willing to express that gratitude.
Tonight, he needed such a display of thanks. He needed it from her.
His first reaction was to pull her to him. Surely she would not refuse him this time. But he’d tried that tactic with her twice before and it hadn’t worked. It had simply made both of them angry. He had no idea why he was not forcing the woman to his will as he’d done others. He’d done it before and never hesitated. But with Emera, it was different. He didn’t want to force her.
He wanted her to come willingly. But, God help him, he had little patience for such things.
“Very well,” he said. “If that is true and you genuinely have no subversive intentions, as you have indicated, then I will permit you to demonstrate your gratitude.”
Emera looked at him as if she truly had no idea what he meant. She had a rather blank expression on her face. “Demonstrate…?”
He began to remove his heavy leather robe, the elaborate one with the fur lining. “You will please me.”
Emera’s blank expression held for a moment longer before she realized, exactly, what he meant. Her eyes widened.
“Demonstrate?” she repeated, aghast. Then, she shook her head in disbelief. “Are we back to that again?”
He laid the leather robe across a chair, very carefully. “We have never left it.”
Emera’s frustration was returning. She’d foolishly opened herself up to the man, just a little, and he’d taken advantage of her. “Instead of grabbing me and forcing yourself upon me, you are using this… this incident to make demands.”
He began to loosen the belt of his tunic. “I am making no demands,” he said steadily. “You said you are grateful. I am giving you the opportunity to demonstrate that gratitude.”
Emera was about to explode at him, in all directions. The situation between them, since the beginning of their association, had been extraordinarily volatile. They set each other off quite easily. But Emera didn’t want to snap at him again. She was growing weary of fighting the man who was surprisingly kind one moment and outrageous the next. He kept making inappropriate demands, as if they were commonplace in his world, and that led Emera to believe that, perhaps, was all he’d ever known. He was a warlord, after all – perhaps in his world, there was nothing else but commanding people to do what he wanted them to do.
“Is that how it has always been with you?” she finally asked. “Rather than have a woman come to you willingly, you simply command her to your will?”
His belt was off. He tossed it onto the bed. “Once again, you do not understand the etiquette of being a prisoner. I give the command and you obey. It is a simple system.”
Emera didn’t move. She was watching him as he pulled off a heavy woolen tunic only to reveal another tunic beneath. There was something in what he’d just said that caught her attention.
“That is correct,” she said. “I am a prisoner and I must obey your command. But as you’ve said repeatedly, you can simply take what you want. Why give me a command if you can simply take me?”
He looked at her, then. “Is that what you want?”
“I do not want any of it.”
“Then you have a choice – either I take what I want or you come to me willingly.”
“If that is my choice, then you will have to take it. But know I will not give up so easily.”
He sighed heavily, bracing both fists against his hips again. “You are wrought with trouble, woman.”
“I am sure you see it that way.”
“It is the only way to see it.”
Emera didn’t respond. She simply stood there, staring at him. “Is that how women have always come to you?” she asked. “Because you demand it?”
He wasn’t going to give in to her questions. His own men didn’t even ask him such questions. “Tread carefully,” he warned her. “You do not know why I do what I do. It is not your business.”
For once, she heeded his warning. There was something in his tone that suggested she should. She didn’t say another word as he removed three tunics, finally revealing a magnificent muscular torso and arms. But that’s when things changed. The sight of all that flesh was shocking to Emera because she’d never truly seen a man stripped down like that before. Juston was clad only in leather breeches and heavy leather boots that went to mid-calf, tied up with strips of thick leather to keep the elements out and his feet dry.
Her mouth went d
ry and her heart raced at the sight of nude man flesh. But the moment of shock faded and something else took hold, something she’d never experienced before. It was as if something deep in her belly was quivering, made worse as she watched Juston lay his tunics out before the hearth to dry them. With the firelight reflecting off of his naked torso, she could see the muscles flexing. It was mesmerizing for a woman who had never seen such things before. She was still staring at him when he finally turned around to look at her.
“Well?” he asked. “Why are you standing there? Take off your clothing and get into bed.”
It was difficult to tear her eyes from his muscular chest and look him in the eye. “I will not,” she said. “When I said I was grateful, I did not mean you should take advantage of that.”
One minute he was standing by the hearth and the next minute, he had her by the wrist, pulling her towards the big bed. Startled, not to mention frightened, Emera dug her heels in and strongly resisted.
“If you think this is the way a woman wants to be treated, then you are wrong,” she grunted through clenched teeth. “Have you only bedded whores and slaves? Do you not know that a fine woman will not be thrown around like this?”
He could easily pull her but she was giving him a fight. He hadn’t wanted to take her by force but she’d tried his patience. Picking her up by her slender waist, he tossed her onto the bed. Unfortunately, she rolled right off and fell onto the other side, coming up swiftly, her black hair hanging askew.
“Get on that bed,” he said, pointing to it. “I will not tell you again.”
Infuriated, and increasingly terrified, Emera fell to the floor once more and crawled under the bed to escape him.
“I will not!” she said, seeing his booted feet move around the bed in her direction. “I will not let you steal what I have tried so hard to protect!”
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