by Wend Petzler
Seeing Michael readying to call Drago out for degrading her so publicly, Isabella stayed him by lifting one finger. This was her fight, not his. Blazing, emerald eyes clashed with ebony ones flat with unsuppressed rage. Isabella shook her head slightly, ‘no'. Michael finally obeyed, taking his seat and grabbed his cup, knuckles white as he drank the contents in a single gulp. Her knights stared at their plates in helpless rage. The idea they were to sit back and watch their lady insulted was unthinkable. But, they'd respect her wishes and obey, for now.
Isabella kept her eyes downcast, not wanting Drago to see the seething fury consuming her. “My lord, I wish to retire for the evening.” At his dismissing nod, Isabella rose unsteadily, feeling more than a little drunk. The entire Black Army surged to their feet. Otto took her arm to steady her. Drago rose, too, bowing to Isabella, unaware she struggled to maintain civility toward him and not spit in his face.
"My lady, I will escort you back to your chambers.” Otto glared at Drago, leading Isabella away from the humiliation heaped upon her by her own husband.
Nicolas gestured to Ahmed. “See to her back and make Lady Isabella as comfortable as possible."
Ahmed bowed and sent Nicolas a look of disapproval before hurrying after the retreating pair. The entire Black Army departed, too, leaving only servants and his men behind in the great hall. Drinking more wine, he saw his men grin, happy to have order back in their lives again. Laughter seemed much too loud. The majority of his men gambled while others tried to woo the serving women who hustled to clean the barely eaten food off the tables. The women glared, clearly offended. In many castles, certain women were known to be easy. Here, the women seemed above such lowness. Soon, Nicolas and his men were left all alone.
A pitcher of wine in one hand and his cup in the other, Nicolas abandoned the table for the chairs by the enormous fireplace. Long logs crackled and snapped, flames lazily danced around the dry wood. Leo took a seat beside him. The happenings in their new home bespoke of much conflict to come. How could they become one with the people of Blood Keep, fight and live as one with the Black Army?
Pensive, Nicolas stared into the flames of the fire, nursing his cup of wine. “Tomorrow, we ride out at dawn. I want to view this land in which I am wed to."
"What of the patrols, my lord?"
"What patrols?"
Clearing his throat, Leo continued cautiously. “Today, I observed two regiments of Black Knights boldly ride out after breakfast. The Demons, on the other hand, are mysterious. Seen, then suddenly vanishing without a trace. Sir Michael watches me as closely as I, him. I swear the man laughs at me, taunting me,” Leo growled in frustration.
A thoughtful expression crossed Nicolas’ grim features. “I wonder what they hunt."
Leo looked sharply at his commander. “Hunt? Yes, they appear to be hunting. I wonder who is their prey?"
Drago resigned himself to the fact that only one person could tell him and his lovely wife appeared to be very good at keeping secrets. “We will follow the Black Knights and find out who they search for. I want you to remain behind and observe the people during our absence. Inform the men of my plan."
"Yea, my lord, I shall see to it.” Leo jumped to his feet, bowing to Nicolas before speaking to their men of the morrow's activities.
Tomorrow would be long indeed, spent searching for an elusive enemy, an evil man his own wife refused to name. Nicolas knew he must seek his chambers. Thoughts of his wife lying in bed warm and inviting made his body react, remembering the feel of her supple body pressed against him. His arousal grew harder, his body raged, desperate to be released.
Duties in serving King Edward of late had kept Nicolas away from court and precious little time or opportunity to seek out a woman. His body ached from being forced into celibacy. Married to a beautiful woman, who was injured and unattainable, had just made matters worse.
What hell had Edward sentenced him to?
* * * *
Otto raged at the whelp married to his Bella. Mumbling under his breath about wanting to throttle Edward for sending Drago to Blood Keep, Otto felt lost on how to help his girl. Hovering protectively over Isabella as she struggled to climb the stairs, he stayed by her side just like he had since the day Isabella came into the world. Otto sighed, reflecting on the girl's dead mother, Lady Eleanor.
The Earl was a cruel, self-righteous bastard prone to using his fists to emphasize his point. Sent to protect Eleanor by her dying father, he arrived to find his charge seven months pregnant. In spite of Otto's great strength and knowledge of war, he failed to save Eleanor from her own disastrous choices. When Isabella would have met death upon her first breath in the world, he had stopped the Earl's blade. Threatening to split the bastard's head with his battle ax, Otto held the lass, unable to help Eleanor who died from loss of blood. Otto had then become mother and father to the infant from that day forth.
Tipsy for the most part, Isabella hoped the wine might dull the blow dealt to her dignity, something which hurt more than the lashes to her back. Coming to the quick conclusion, she decided the world failed to hold enough wine to dull the betrayal she felt by Drago's despicable actions tonight. Otto pushed the heavy oak door open for her, hesitating when they heard footsteps hurrying up the stairs.
Snarling, Otto faced the Arab. “Why are ye here?"
"I bring salve for our mistress’ back. Though, I am sure I cannot heal the hurt my master has caused Lady Isabella.” Showing Otto the bowl of salve, Ahmed patiently waited to be invited inside the chamber.
Grunting, Otto gave his consent and followed Isabella. She sagged into a chair set by the fire. Standing beside her, they watched Ahmed set the bowl beside the roaring fire. Pouring wine into a goblet, he added the contents of vial of clear liquid into it and swirled it around, mixing the liquids.
Smiling kindly at the sad, young woman before him, Ahmed handed Isabella the glass. “Drink all. It will help you sleep, allowing your body to heal and grow strong again.” Wearing a secretive smile, Ahmed's eyes met hers as she warily took the offered cup. “When the time is right, the Demon Lord must return to Blood Keep."
"What do you mean?” she demanded, wondering what Drago's man was up to. Otto's hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
"I commend you on stepping back to allow one leader. Unfortunately, the situation appears as if Drago puts you in your place. It was not his intention to suppress you but allow you to be a woman once more. Drago has a good heart, viewing the world in black and white. Good and evil. Sometimes it is not so clear. Sometimes evil wears the white coat of honor while the black knight is the true hero.” Ahmed winked at Otto and Isabella in conspiracy.
Astounded by the man's words, tears blurred her vision. Swallowing hard, she whispered, “Why are you here?"
"Your men will not follow Drago unless you publicly announce your allegiance to him. You will know when the time is right, but make it from the heart, not for duty. England is full of honor and righteousness, but love is a most powerful bond. I firmly believe you have earned the right to be loved for who you are and not what your station provides for men's ambitions.” Ahmed bowed before leaving to attend Drago.
Otto was the first to speak. “Well, I'll be damned. I never thought Drago's man would be on our side."
Drinking the wine, Isabella shook her head when Aggie stormed in the chamber, her round face flushed with outrage. “I'll flog Drago myself, I swear it!” She ranted and raved, stopping short when she saw Isabella's distress. Forcing herself to calm down, Aggie placed a kind hand on Otto's bear-like arm. “I'll see to the lass. Off ye go and get a cup of ale. Our Bella will be herself in no time.” Unhappy, Otto did as Aggie bid, leaving the older woman to care for Isabella.
Helping the drowsy, young woman out of her clothes, Aggie guided Isabella up on the bed. Letting her get comfortable, Aggie went to grab the bowl of salve by the fire and spread the creamy mixture over Isabella's back. “Amazing! You're healing faster than I expected. Ahmed is a go
dsend.” Aggie smiled when Bella snored softly. Wiping her hands on a cloth, she whispered, “Rest, my sweet child. May God and Jesus watch over you.” Returning the bowl by the fireplace, she gasped when she saw Drago standing in the doorway, a broad shoulder propped against the door jam.
"My lord,” Aggie nodded stiffly, folding her hands in front of her, wanting nothing more than to slap the man.
Nicolas straightened, walked to the table and poured a cup of wine. Turning around, seeking to have a word with Aggie, he found he was alone. Surprised and angry, he wondered if he had alienated everyone at Blood Keep. Discouraged, Nicolas undressed. Even Ahmed was displeased with him. What was he supposed to do, coddle the Black Army, allowing them to follow the girl sleeping soundly on the bed? It just wasn't decent for a noblewoman to run around in men's clothes! Isabella would obey him and accept his decision as right.
With that settled in his mind, Nicolas crawled in bed. Protest all she wanted, the truth was Isabella wanted him. When they kissed, she responded enthusiastically, encouraging him. Perhaps by using their mutual attraction, he might build a marriage with Isabella. Yawning, Nicolas rolled on his side, suddenly unsure if what he'd done tonight had been right. Had he made more enemies?
* * * *
Blinded by the bright sunlight streaming through the glass paned window, Isabella rolled out of bed. She clenched her teeth when her laced back protested the movement. She barely had time to gather her wits when Aggie burst into the chamber.
"Good morning,” Aggie beamed as she headed for the closet, withdrawing Isabella's customary leather outfit.
"Where is Drago?” It grated Isabella's pride to ask, feeling the man was up to something. Dressing, she worried about Drago's intentions with Blood Keep.
"Drago and his men rode out before dawn, failing to leave instructions for our men. Gabriel is baffled, and Michael is disgusted."
"Which direction did Drago ride?” Before Drago's arrival, Isabella sent her men patrolling in case Alden's trickery might extend to enlisting the aid of the Scottish border lords to harass Blood Keep. Chewing at her lower lip, she needed to speak with Michael. Drago risked his arrogant neck by riding near the border. William McLeod loved to make examples of foolish knights wandering about the back roads.
Cinching her sword across her back again, Isabella left her chambers, Aggie by her side. “Where is Michael?” she asked when she failed to see him when they entered the great hall.
"He's training in the sword arena. By the way, Drago moved his knights inside the Keep,” Aggie informed her.
"He did what?” Isabella struggled to keep her voice normal, difficult as it was through teeth clenched. Soldiers and archers slept in the hall at night! They protected the occupants inside Blood Keep. The Black Knights and the Demons were housed outside in the barracks, ready to defend the Keep's occupants from without.
"My lady, I'm sorry to remind you, Drago is Baron of Blood Keep. We will all have to adjust.” Aggie ladled several scoops of porridge in a bowl and left, knowing Isabella seethed.
Appetite lost, Isabella shoved away from the table and hurried outside, needing to speak to Michael. Once her mission accomplished, she returned to the Keep and entered her study. Running her fingers along the leather bound ledgers stored on the shelves, she sighed in retrospect. Records of every soul who lived on her lands, every animal, or person born and died, monies earned, and crops harvested were kept in neat order. Staring out the glass-paned windows, lost in her thoughts, Isabella whipped around when an extremely distressed Aggie burst into the room.
"What has happened?” Isabella demanded, ready for danger.
"I didna think Drago serious, my lady, except he went and done it!"
Suspicious, Isabella demanded, “Did what?"
Aggie pushed the double doors open, admitting a tall, gangly man whose somber outfit was as colorful as his smile. “He hired a dress maker."
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Chapter Five
Posed with a knee bent and a skeletal hand waving about, the tailor sneered, “Baron Drago said you dressed like a man, I thought he was just being figurative.” A long, bony finger tapped his pointed chin as he thoughtfully pursed his thin lips. “We must do you completely over.” Clapping his hands loudly, a long line of women holding fabrics of all types and shades streamed into the study.
"What the hell are you doing?” Isabella snapped as he walked around her as if sizing up a fat calf for the slaughter.
"My lady, your husband paid me quite generously to complete a new wardrobe for you. I must say not a moment to soon.” Chuckling at his own joke, he smiled smugly until he felt cold steel pressing against his bare throat.
"Let us do away with the sarcasm, shall we?” Isabella purred softly, her green eyes glittered dangerously. “My husband wishes to make a lady out of me, does he?” The frightened man made to nod, jerking his chin back when he touched the sharp edge to his skin.
Decisive, Isabella slipped her sword in its scabbard. Examining what the women held, ignoring their nervous glances at one another. “I want three day gowns and two special dresses made, all accompanied by matching slippers. I plan to visit my cousin, King Edward, during the summer. Your name?” Isabella demanded imperiously, arching an eyebrow in question.
Shaken by the Baroness’ fierce demeanor, he bowed before her. “I am Sumner, Master Tailor of Serenity."
Just then, Otto stormed inside the study, the doors bouncing against the walls, scaring the tailor and his seamstresses. “What goes on here?” Puffing for air, he scanned the chamber for danger. All he found were frightened women clutching bundles of fabric.
"Otto, calm yourself. Drago wishes to gift me with a new wardrobe—female clothes. He apparently still finds my state of dress in a distasteful nature.” Isabella explained, sarcastic. “Sumner, follow me. Otto, Aggie, please accompany me."
The servants of Blood Keep stared, their mouths dropped at the strange entourage following the Baroness up the stairs to the solar. Inside the spacious chamber, Isabella tossed her sword to Otto and waited patiently while Sumner prepared the room to his liking.
The tailor withdrew a measuring tape, swallowing so hard his Adam's apple bobbed up and down nervously. “My lady, I need to take your measurements."
"Are you suggesting I get completely undressed?” The master tailor nodded nervously. Emerald eyes burned into the man as she spoke softly, “What you see today is never to be spoken to anyone, do you understand?” When the tailor nodded quickly, she walked behind the dressing screen. Otto crossed his massive arms, standing guard while Isabella undressed. The seamstresses cast curious glances, wondering what secret was sought to be kept.
Sumner gasped when he viewed the whip marks across her back. With a gentle hand, he measured the Baroness. Who inflicted such pain upon the proud, young woman? Surely not the new baron, he appeared to be genuinely concerned about Lady Isabella and wanted nothing but the best for her.
When he finished, Sumner bowed respectively to her. “My lady, I am honored to create gowns for a beautiful woman such as yourself.” Taking a white shift from his assistant, he handed it to Isabella and stepped around the dressing screen to consult with his seamstresses.
Amused by Sumner's change in attitude, Isabella found selecting designs and material much more enjoyable. Completed gowns from the tailor's shop were also shown to her. A gown of peach velvet drew her attention. Isabella stared longingly at the lovely dress, but her strict upbringing viewed vanity a sin. During her childhood, the only reason she retained her long hair was the threat of Otto splitting the old Earl's skull if he cut a single strand. As an adult, she kept it long as a reminder of her feminine side.
Sumner's sharp eyes missed little. Holding the lovely gown up to her, he smiled, “My lady, if you will permit me to say, I believe your beauty enhances my creation."
Unprepared for the rush of emotions, the first and only time Isabella had worn a gown was on her wedding day. Horrible memorie
s assaulted her, such pain and humiliation. Both the Earl and Mordred were dead and no longer haunted her decisions. She smiled brightly at Sumner. “I would like to try it on.” Isabella took the gown and went behind the screen to change. Shrugging into the dress, she shivered in pure delight, loving the way the soft material glided along her skin. Isabella waited patiently as Sumner fastened the multitude of gold buttons down the back. The low neckline gave her some concern, showing more cleavage than Isabella felt appropriate in displaying. Uncertain, Isabella twirled around, loving the way the gown swirled about her legs. Halting before Otto, she waited for his approval.
Otto grinned broadly. “Ye look just like yer mother! She'd be proud of the fine woman you've become."
Aggie wept as the young woman blossomed before her very eyes. Isabella had single-handedly changed Blood Keep from a sordid hellhole into a rich demesne, a home where one could prosper and feel safe from the horrors of the world. She saw Isabella as more than the strong arm of Blood Keep. She saw her as a true lady.
A wicked smile curved Isabella's lips. “Since the Baron wishes to be generous in providing me with a new wardrobe, I wish to add several more gowns, starting with the icy blue silk material over yonder."
Sumner rubbed his hands together gleefully and began to plan more gowns for Lady Isabella.
* * * *
Riding through the town of Serenity, Nicolas observed merchants and local people bustling to and fro. Men and women smiled in greeting as they rushed pass him and his knights. Shops of all makes, devices were open and hectic. Earlier, he had hired the tailor to complete a new wardrobe for his wife and was satisfied the man's price was fair.
Ahmed commented, “I see that Blood Keep guards the trade routes from London to Scotland."
"Yea, it appears Edward may have valid reason to be concerned about Blood Keep. Edward might stand to lose a vast amount of money if the castle were to fall into the wrong hands,” Nicolas noted grimly. When he looked around, he saw a dark robed man, his features obscured, hidden within the deep folds of his hood. The man melted into the crowd, vanishing.