by Wend Petzler
"Keep a close eye on Michael and Gabriel. They wield much power with the Black Army.” Nicolas wondered if the knights of Blood Keep would readily accept him after serving the Demon Lord.
Checking on Isabella one last time, satisfied she slept well, Ahmed left the chamber without making a sound.
Sighing, Nicolas laid his head back and floated in the soothing water, thrilled to be able to stretch his long legs out, a luxury many men of his size were often denied. His thoughts strayed to Isabella, envisioning her long hair floating about them, the silky strands entangling about their bodies. Remembering the feel of her soft, satiny flesh under his hands, his body tightened in response. Reining in his amorous thoughts, he concentrated on his bath. There was plenty of time to get to know his new wife, Nicolas grimaced, years in fact.
Splashing water woke Isabella, startling her by the foreign sound. She cautiously opened her eyes to mere slits, peering about the room to find the culprit. Her eyes flew open in shock at the sight of a man bathing in her pool. But not just any man—her husband!
What a mess her life had become! Movement caught her eye. Isabella's breath caught. Fascinated by the play of bulging muscles, she watched Drago step from the tub, dark shadows thankfully hid his manly attributes. He turned to grab a towel, presenting a splendid view of his broad back curving to tight buttocks. Isabella saw Drago as the epitome of what was beautiful in a man, more breathtaking than the marble statues she'd seen in Rome while traveling with Edward on pilgrimage.
King Edward.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she unwillingly remembered things best left alone. Shuddering, horrid memories assaulted her mind, images of so much blood and death she'd seen in the twenty one years of her life. Curling into a protective ball, she cried out from the excruciating pain. She forced her body to slowly unfold, having forgotten about her torn back momentarily. Opening her eyes to see if he heard, her reward was a full frontal view of Drago.
Nicolas spun around. “Isabella?” Oblivious of his nakedness, he squatted beside the bed, gazing intently at her, concerned. Green eyes cautiously opened, keeping level with his, a blush colored her pale features.
"Your man's salve worked so well I forgot about my back.” Isabella tried to make light of her injury, grimacing through a tight smile.
Shaking his head at her attempt at humor, Nicolas rose and went to grab the wooden bowl containing the warm salve. “Roll back onto your stomach,” he ordered roughly, unaware of the distress his nakedness caused her.
"What are you doing?” she demanded, attempting to sit up when a large hand on her buttocks pushed her flat.
Before Isabella voiced her protest, he whipped back the sheet. Cursing softly, he applied the salve where she had partially reopened several of her wounds. Swallowing hard, she whispered anxiously, “Is it really that bad?” Drago's eyes burned a dark topaz fire. Unafraid, she knew his anger was not directed at her but toward her assailant.
Considering her question, he decided she needed to hear the truth. “You'll heal, but I'm afraid scars will remain.” Nicolas half-expected Isabella to wail and cry at the injustice, but when a bitter laugh erupted from her, he stared, at a loss what to do.
Shaking her head at the irony of her situation, she said, “Scars are not of importance to me. As you see, I have many.” She buried her head in her arms, exhausted.
Using his fingertips to spread the salve, he scanned her lithe body, checking often to see if he hurt her. Isabella was right about the multitude of scars she bore. Many of the silvery marks were long time healed and must have happened when she was much younger. Who had hurt her? Was she tortured? Her smooth skin gleamed pale gold. Frowning, he realized there wasn't an inch of creamy white skin anywhere on her. Most unusual for noblewomen took pride in avoiding the sun, preserving their paleness at all cost. It seemed his wife was a contradiction on all levels of nobility decorum.
Nicolas’ scowl deepened when he noticed a long, puckered scar across her right bicep. Without warning, Isabella's heavy braid flew over her right shoulder and smacked him hard in the face. Stumbling back from the force, he gathered his balance and growled, “What the hell?"
Isabella coolly met his glare. “You were becoming far too familiar with my person."
Temper growing thin, Nicolas stormed over to the pool and washed his hands. Working his way back to the bed, he blew out the oil lamp set beside the table. The bright fire's flickering light gave him some light to find his way by. Exhausted, Nicolas forced himself to ignore his new wife's oddities. Tossing back the blankets, he slipped into bed and shifted onto his side and found Isabella staring at him. A thoughtful frown creased her brow and before he said anything, Isabella then turned her head away from him. Drawing the sheet higher over Isabella's back, he lay there for a long time, listening to her snore softly. A surge of protectiveness welled up inside him for his brave, new wife and again the question arose in his mind.
Why had the Demon Lord left Isabella unprotected after so many years by her side? Did the absent knight know of her attack? Tomorrow would see to the answers to his many questions, Nicolas concluded before closing his eyes to find some much needed sleep.
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Chapter Three
Isabella stirred, inhaling the alluring scent of sandalwood. Movement in the bed made her senses scream out in warning. She was not alone! In a flash, pure instinct overcame Isabella, spurring her into action. Rolling over to her side, she grabbed her sword, blindly swinging at the intruder. Her wrist was suddenly captured in a tight grasp by a larger, more powerful hand.
Reflex saved Nicolas’ life as he faced an enraged female armed with a deadly sword. “Hold! It is I—Nicolas, your husband,” he bellowed, wrestling the sword out of her strong grip.
Startled, Isabella scooted away, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Contrite, she looked up at his angry visage. “Sorry, I'm not use to sharing my bed."
Handing back her sword, hilt first, he grunted in response. “To tell the truth, I've never had a woman come at me with a sword before. Let us not make it a habit.” Nicolas’ smile spread despite the seriousness of the situation but quickly faded. Staring at the exposed small, high breasts, rosy-tipped nipples hard in the coolness of the dawn, he found he could not move. Hot desire surged inside him as he viewed the bounty exposed for his hungry perusal.
Blowing out a disgusted sigh, Isabella yanked the sun bleached sheet up, covering herself. Ignoring her back, she flung herself out of the bed, needing to place distance between her and Drago. The floor ice-cold, she hurried over to the smoldering fire. Clutching the sheet tight about her, Isabella bent to grab a piece of chopped wood when his hand stayed her. Fear shot through Isabella. Stumbling backward, Isabella tripped on the bottom of the sheet, felt the awful sensation of falling when Drago's arms flew around her, drawing her into the shelter of his warm embrace. He laughed at her clumsiness, holding her until she stood on her own. Never had anyone approached without her hearing them with the exception of the bastard who had whipped her.
"My lady, perhaps we should start over.” Nicolas released her to toss a log onto the fire, unconcerned by his state of undress.
"Perhaps, my lord, you should consider clothing yourself!” Isabella snapped, uncomfortable as the naked man strutted back to the bed.
Amusement was evident in his amber eyes, a sardonic twist of his irresistible lips. “Come here, we must take a look at your back,” Nicolas ordered, less amused when Isabella eyed him in open distrust. “You don't want to start bleeding again, do you?” He retrieved his clothes sitting on the chair Ahmed had left for him sometime in the night. Pulling on a clean, white linen braies, followed next by gray woolen chausses, he tied the laces and slipped on a plain brown tunic with long sleeves.
After he finished dressing, Isabella warily approached him, stopping a few feet away. She complied by dropping the sheet down her back for his inspection, arching a delicate eyebrow at him over her shoulder. Heartened to see she
was healing, he belted on his sword. “I will send Ahmed to you with more salve for your back and some breakfast."
"Why must breakfast be brought to me when I am quite capable of going down by myself?” Her tone was soft—dangerous.
"Stay in our chambers until Ahmed feels you are healed enough to be about your business. If you will excuse me, I have a castle and lands to become familiar with.” Bowing to the silent woman, Nicolas exited the chamber, missing the mutinous flattening of her full lips, not realizing how close to death he had just come.
Hot rage coursed through Isabella. Stomping over to her closet, she yanked out her clothes. “Stay in my room, my ass,” she snarled, furious at being ordered about like a child.
Aggie flew up the stairs, hoping to stop Isabella from making a terrible mistake. She found the young woman already dressed in her customary garb of black leather chausses over black dyed linen braies, a matching tunic with tight-fitting sleeves, and a high collar, a black linen shirt under it. Knee high, snug-fitting leather boots completed her wardrobe.
"Aggie, don't argue with me, just brush my hair!"
Knowing better than to argue when Isabella's back was up, Aggie grabbed the ivory-handled brush lying on the small table. “Shall I braid your hair as usual?"
"Yea, I need it out of my way. If Drago thinks he can just waltz in here and take my castle he has another think coming!” she shouted, raging at the absent man who had successfully turned her world upside down.
Aggie tried not to laugh. “Is that what this is all about? You fear the man will take your home away from you?"
Her jaw ached from clenching it so tight. Fear crept in her gut at the thought of losing Blood Keep. “I trust him not. I know naught why Edward has done such a horrid thing to me, but I will not lose my home to a stranger!” Tears brightened her green eyes. The dark castle was the first and only place where she truly belonged. She would not lose it to a landless knight like Drago!
"Drago is not a stranger as you should well remember,” the housekeeper reminded her charge while she quickly braided Isabella's hair, fastening the end with a leather thong.
Isabella reached for her sword and slammed it back in its sheath. Careful not to re-injury herself, she strapped it to her back, the scabbard resting between her shoulder blades. “How are the men reacting to Drago and his men?"
"They are cautious. You are right to go downstairs and join the knights for breakfast. Drago cannot rule Blood Keep without you. The Black Army will not allow such a thing to happen.” Taking Isabella's hands in hers, she said, “Isabella, you are the only one who can unite us. You have to show everyone that Drago and his men are welcomed."
She stared at Aggie, taken aback, but the sincere expression on Aggie's open features gave her pause. “Do you believe we need Drago?"
"Not only I, but Brandon and Otto, too. We think Edward sent Drago to Blood Keep for your own protection.” Aggie wrung her hands, worried, fearful of future attacks. She knew their enemy would not stop until he had what he wanted—Isabella.
"Come, Aggie. Let us go downstairs before conflicts arise.” Head held high, Isabella strode from the chamber, ignoring the pain radiating from her back.
Nicolas greeted several knights he recognized. Crossing the great hall, he took in the warmth of the clean, whitewashed walls. Worn, but well taken care of tables and long benches crammed the spacious chamber, easily seating over three hundred people at one time. An enormous fireplace set to the east side of the hall with a half dozen, high-backed chairs positioned near it. In his observations, he saw Michael and Gabriel had moved to stand by the stairs leading to the Lord's chambers. Looking around him, he saw the men in black watch him, wearing expressions of skepticism while others did with open hostility. The shift of power will not be a smooth one, Nicolas thought grimly.
A roar of cheers broke the eerie silence. The Black Army surged to their feet when Isabella walked down the stairs, wearing a bright smile. Exhibiting a show of strength, Gabriel and Michael fell in step behind her as Isabella made her way through the well-wishers and the obvious relief of her troops. Not for the first time since meeting Isabella, Nicolas was stumped, unsure what to think about a woman who dressed in men's clothes and held the respect of the invincible Black Army.
Regal, Isabella took her seat. “Miss me?” she whispered sweetly, her eyes sparkling wickedly. A delicate eyebrow shot upward, challenging her new husband.
"My lady, I would be a fool not to miss a woman such as yourself.” Taking her slender hand in his, he turned her palm up so he could kiss the sensitive center. Perplexed by her calloused hand, a frown puckered his brow. Noblewomen, he knew, had soft, delicate hands while hers were strong, velvety rough. Isabella yanked her hand from his grasp. Uncertainty colored her ethereal features. He clung to the hope Isabella had come to show support of him and not against him. The security of Blood Keep and the success of their marriage depended on them getting along in public as well as in the privacy of their chambers.
Unsure how to take his compliment, Isabella turned to the meal set before them. Crocks of honey and butter sat beside fresh, steaming loaves of hot bread. Servants ladled porridge with hearty chunks of meat floating in the creamy texture into wooden bowls placed before her and Drago. Isabella heartily dug in, needing to regain her strength if she was to survive Drago and the multitude of problems he brought to Blood Keep.
Reaching for the honey, she noticed he stared at her, his jaw dropped open. “What?” she demanded, glaring at his rudeness.
"I apologize, but I have never seen a woman eat so.” Nicolas leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I highly approve."
Unsure what to say, Isabella glanced around, startled to see her knights and soldiers staring at them. Aggie was right. There could only be one leader. But would Drago be the right man for the task? Could he rule Blood Keep by her side or was he the type of man who thought a woman in command laughable?
Knowing every ear nearest to them was attuned to his response, she decided to test Drago. “If I might, I highly recommend my captain to show you the castle and our lands. Sir Brandon is a loyal man and knows Blood Keep inside and out."
Nicolas chewed his bread slowly. The knights closest to them stopped eating and waited for his answer. She asked the question most pressing on their minds. Would he replace the old knight and make drastic changes to Blood Keep or take his time learning the ropes of running the castle?
"If Sir Brandon wishes to remain as captain, I'd appreciate his wisdom."
Relieved, Brandon approached. “I would be honored to remain Captain of Blood Keep. Otto and I will give you a tour of Blood Keep whenever you are ready, my lord."
Isabella knew she had done the right thing. Nonetheless, a feeling of rebellion welled inside her, making it difficult to breathe. The years had been hard as she strove to make Blood Keep prosperous, providing for her people, keeping them healthy and happy. And to her astonishment, Edward had handed the entire demesne over to Drago, taking away all which she had bled and worked for by the simple sweep of his quill. Turning from her dark musing, Isabella caught the subtle hand signal from Gabriel, a slight gesture indicating he wished to speak in private with her.
She smiled tiredly at Drago. “I feel my strength is not up to par. I shall retire."
"I'll walk you to our chamber,” Nicolas offered, rising from his chair when she stayed him.
"Please stay. I am certain you have many questions to ask Brandon and Otto,” she said, holding her breath, hoping her men would keep Drago busy while she slipped outside.
Otto sat down beside Drago, directing his attention away from her so she could slip through the crowd of warriors and servants unnoticed. Or so she thought. Ahmed watched the maneuvering with interest, unaware he was being watched by Michael hidden in the shadows. Assured Drago's man would stay by his master, Michael left to join Isabella and Gabriel outside on the ramparts.
Isabella leaned her shoulder against the cold, squared block of stone use
d as interval guards along the ramparts encircling the castle. She watched her husband step out into the courtyard, following as Brandon and Otto showed the new baron their home. Hearing the familiar tread of her second in command, she asked without turning, “How do the men feel about the latest additions to our family?"
Frowning, Gabriel glanced at Michael before speaking, disturbed by her odd behavior. “Our baseborn knights are very concerned about having such an aristocratic knight in our midst. Despite his lack of lands, Nicolas Drago does come from a wealthy and prominent family, third of four sons I believe."
"Michael?” Isabella asked, facing her most vicious fighter.
The tall, dark man took his time in answering, looking at the green fields below. “We have fought well alongside Drago and his men on many occasions. The man is fair and highly regarded by Edward. I know for a fact the Demon Lord thought so, too, or he wouldn't have risked his life to save Drago at Halidon Hill.” Michael faced the woman to whom he owed his allegiance, the same whom he loved above all else. “Rest and regain your strength. All that matters is you being strong to fight our enemy. He will come again when we least expect it. Let Drago play baron until you are better. If he can be trusted, you can explain to him about the Demon Lord and our secrets.” Michael watched the play of emotions on her drawn features. Dark circles under her beautiful green eyes made Isabella seem so fragile, a state neither knight had ever seen her in. It was quite a shock to their peace of mind.
Her body battered as well as the amount of blood she lost, it made sense to step back for a while and heal. Conceding to their wisdom, Isabella sighed before nodding. “Instruct the men I wish to test Drago on his ability to rule Blood Keep. Respect his orders as if they come from me until I say differently."
Michael bowed to her, pride in his eyes. Isabella always placed the good of the knights and their people above her own in her decision making. It was what made Isabella an excellent leader. What he asked next briefly stuck in his throat as he envisioned Isabella's rage. The words came hard, knowing he asked her to be someone she wasn't.