Dragon's Dower

by Catherine Archer

  No matter how his blood pounded even now as he looked down into her passion-hooded eyes. No matter how his manhood throbbed at the sight of her so willing and pliant in his arms—at the touch of her soft white hands.

  It had only been the grief from speaking of his family. He had told the truth when he said it had never occurred to him that he might never see them again.

  He moved to sit up, to turn away from the temptation she offered without even trying.

  She blinked, turning to him in confusion. “Simon?” When he made no reply she sat up, holding her gown over her breasts, now shy where a moment ago she had been eager beneath his gaze. Simon refused to acknowledge the regret that rose up inside him as she said, “What is it?”

  He shook his head. “We can not. I…”

  Isabelle took a deep breath as realization dawned, willing her pounding heart to slow. She had to find some control here, some way to salvage the pride that had deserted her each and every time Simon touched her. Deliberately, giving herself time to calm her mind, she arranged her disheveled clothing. She did it with a casualness that totally belied the fierce ache of regret and shame inside her.

  She was amazed at the evenness of her own tone as she finally spoke. “You are right. We can not. It would be madness. We both know how we feel about this marriage.”

  He did not answer for a long moment, seeming less pleased than she would have expected him to be, considering the fact that it had been he who had ended their embrace. His reply sounded clipped and bitter, “Aye.”

  In spite of the strain that now tainted the air, she found herself asking him the question that burned in her mind in a matter-of-fact way that continued to surprise her. “What is it that you do want? What do you hope for in this, married to me, but not married?”

  He stood up even straighter. “To be free to return to Avington with no further influence from your father on my life. To gain an annulment.”

  Though the words hit her like a blow she nodded with deliberate aplomb. “Of course. And that would certainly depend upon your not bedding me.”

  He did not look away from her. “I will do whatever I must to discharge my duty, to honor my father and brother’s memories by being the best overlord that I can be. You can not but know how I feel about your father, about his reprehensible acts, not the worst of which was making it appear that I was plotting against the crown.”

  She grimaced. She did indeed know her father was capable of great wrong. Had he not betrayed his own brother in just such a way? Yet she did not wish to simply accept Simon’s will, either, though she felt a great temptation to do so. The passion he had awakened in her was a compelling master indeed. But Isabelle would answer to no master.

  At the same time she felt enough confusion to say, “You must guard yourself well where my father is concerned, Simon. Do as he wishes.”

  He looked at her closely. “Why would you tell me this? Does this mean that your loyalty has been shaken?”

  She took a deep breath. She must not give away too much for she had no reason to trust him either. “Nay. I…His hatred of you is strong and you are sometimes rash.”

  He raised those dark brows high. “Rest assured I do not fear your father. He would do well to guard himself.”

  She shrugged, knowing she could do no more than try. “Feeling as you do, it would indeed be best if you could end the marriage, but I do not know when or even if the king or my father, would allow you to do that.”

  He frowned blackly. “Haps the day will come when your father will have no say in the matter. I mean to find a way to be free of him.”

  Though she did not say so Isabelle could, on one level, understand his feelings. Did she not also long for the day when she would no longer be ruled by her father?

  Simon seemed to read her thoughts. He asked, “And you, Isabelle? What is it that you want?”

  Isabelle was so shocked at being asked what she wanted or felt about anything, she found herself admitting her most cherished hope without having intended to do anything of the sort. “I? I would most love to have a child.”

  Simon’s gaze widened. “A child? Of all the things you might have said, that is not what I would have expected.”

  She looked down, feeling foolish for having admitted this to him. She did not go on to say that her son would honor the memory of her beloved uncle. He would eventually restore Dragonwick to that happy time.

  She was glad she had kept this to herself when he cast her with a mocking glance. “Are you trying to tell me something, Isabelle? Is that why you responded to me just now?” The disdain in his voice grated.

  Keeping in mind that she might as well allow him to believe this rather than the truth, which was that she had not been able to control her responses, she said, “Perhaps I am, Simon. You are my husband.”

  He stared at her in amazement. Isabelle felt somewhat pleased at having caught him so completely by surprise.

  Her pleasure faded like the cut wildflowers on a hot day, as he said, “You know that having a child would mean that the marriage would become a real one.”

  She carefully kept her features schooled. “What matter would that have been to me? I must be married to someone and I must lie with that man in order to have a child.”

  He gave her an assessing glance. “Not necessarily.”

  She did not take the bait, for the subject was of far too much import to her. She could get a child outside of marriage, aye, but her father would not name him heir to Dragonwick. Her child must be legitimate.

  He interrupted her thoughts, “You continue to pretend that there is no love in you and yet you want a child.”

  She did not look at him, did not answer, but she felt him studying her. He said, “I saw you today, holding the maid. Your tenderness. I know there is love in you.”

  She raised her chin with disdainful pride to cover the rush of vulnerability she felt at Simon having seen the two of them together. “After what you have just told me of your desire to see our marriage ended I can not imagine why you care. I can not believe you would want love from me.”

  He frowned at her reaction but quickly interjected, “Nay, even if we wished to remain wed I would not expect, or desire, such an emotion. Coming from you I would only distrust any such displays toward myself. What we could have is a cessation of war. As to why I care,” his frown deepened. “I…well, I do not care really other than that I see you do and are denying it.” He seemed pleased with this pronouncement.

  She raised her head. “You know nothing about me and I would keep things as they are. As far as a cessation of war is concerned, there is no war, Simon. For that, one of us would have to care. What there is, is indifference.”

  “There is desire.”

  Isabelle had nothing to say to that and clearly there was nothing more that Simon wished to say, either. The following silence stretched on for what seemed an eternity.

  Finally Simon, his voice devoid of emotion, spoke from the other side of the room. “The rain has stopped.”

  Isabelle realized that the rain was indeed no longer drumming on the roof as it had been. Risking a quick glance at Simon she saw that his jaw was set, his expression hard. Drat the man for behaving as if he had been the wronged party. It had been he who kissed her, after all.

  She took up her still-wet cape and pulled it about her, then moved toward the door. “Most excellent.” She wanted to be in his company not one more moment than was absolutely necessary.

  Simon did not sleep in Isabelle’s chamber that night, nor the next. It was not because he no longer trusted himself to lie so near the woman who had almost made him forget all he held dear. It was simply because too much had been said between them.

  It had been madness to remind her of the desire that flared between them. He would not make that mistake again.

  As he had told her, he did not care whether she loved or not. It simply maddened him that her pretence of not loving was just another lie in this place full of lies an
d deceit. That was all.

  He knew not what Kelsey would say when he discovered Simon was now sharing a place in the stables with his men. Yet he was certain the earl would learn the truth ere many days had passed. Surely he would not be pleased, having made his desire for a grandchild well-known.

  For her part, Isabelle had said nothing on the matter. She had, in fact, said nothing to him since that unbelievable conversation in the hunting lodge.

  Simon had thought himself beyond being surprised by anything done by Kelsey or Isabelle. But his wife, who was undoubtedly the most passionate, responsive and alluring woman he had ever met, had done just that. She had, in essence, told him that all the desire she had displayed when he touched her was due to the fact that she wanted a child.

  This revelation was difficult to accept as it had been all he could do to control himself as far as she was concerned. Yet he had no real wish for her to want him.

  Did he?

  He had his plan and she had hers. Surely now that she knew of his wish to gain an annulment she would be as eager as he was for this marriage to end.

  Or in spite of her saying that she must be married to have a child she would find some other man to fulfill her need without waiting. Her father was under the impression that they had consummated the marriage. Isabelle could claim the child was his.

  For unexplainable reasons this thought was far too disturbing. And not just because he would no longer be able to gain an annulment. Quickly Simon told himself that it was simply because as long as she was his wife, he would not play the cuckold.

  Yet Simon found himself watching her even more closely than before. He seemed mesmerized by each movement of her slender white hands as she reached for her cup at table. He was maddeningly enticed by the gentle sway of her hips as she moved through the keep with that unconscious grace that was so much a part of her.

  This very day as she brushed him with a slender hip on the stair that led to the upper floor of the keep he knew such a rush of desire he had to bite the inside of his mouth to stifle a groan. Isabelle had appeared completely oblivious to his plight and had gone on her way without so much as casting a cool glance toward him. Damn her eyes.

  Had the witch enchanted him? Perhaps, for never in his life had he known such awareness of a woman. He told himself that it was simply her beauty that drew him. Any man would want her thusly. ’Twas the way men were made.

  Yet it was not like Simon to become so beset by a woman. Jarrod was the one who quite often found himself in the throws of one passionate distraction or another. Though he got over them quickly enough when the initial rush of passion had cooled, or as happened on rare occasion indeed, the woman was not amenable to his suit.

  Simon, although he had been with women, had heretofore been free of any such torment of desire as he was now feeling. In spite of his more levelheaded behavior in the past, Simon realized that surely what was now happening to him could only be termed infatuation.

  Even an infatuation such as this would cool. He must simply give it time. Time was something he had far too much of on his hands of late.

  It was on the third evening after moving into the stable that Simon looked up from table to see his father-by-marriage enter the hall. The earl cast an assessing glance over the hall in spite of his obvious fatigue. He frowned when it came to rest upon Simon.

  Simon had not bestirred himself to join those at the high table, telling himself it was only prudent to avoid Isabelle as long as his fascination with her persisted. She had not put in an appearance. He had told himself that his sense of regret was nothing short of madness and gladly joined Jack and one of the other men for a game of dice when the meal had ended.

  After that first brief glance toward the earl he kept his gaze trained on the dice, which Jack rolled before making his next move. But he was aware of the man’s approach. Kelsey stopped beside the table, his gaze raking Simon. “Why do you linger here when my daughter awaits you above?”

  Feeling his back go rigid, Simon replied as evenly as possible. “I am in the midst of a game.”

  Kelsey’s scowl now deepened. “You need not lie. I have caught you. It has come to my attention that you have taken to sleeping in the stables.”

  Simon stiffened from head to foot. “I have no need for falsehood. I did not answer because I do not feel obliged to do so.” And then something made him ask, “Did Isabelle tell you this?”

  The earl scowled even more deeply. “Who told me is of no import to you.”

  The displeasure in the man told him it had not been Isabelle. Simon quickly suppressed a sense of pleasure. Surely his wife had only curbed her tongue in order to protect her own lovely hide.

  Yet Simon said, “As I have informed you, what is between my wife and myself is none of your concern.”

  “None of my concern.” Kelsey sputtered, looking down his narrow nose. “It is your duty to produce a child.”

  The muscles flexed in Simon’s jaw. The thought of getting Isabelle with child was more distracting than this man could know, especially when she seemed as eager for that outcome as her father appeared to be.

  Had her own eagerness been based upon nothing more than obedience? He had told her it was an indication that she could love. Haps he had been wrong.

  Kelsey’s voice prodded him back to the reality. “You have no right to thwart me, Warleigh, for in doing so you thwart the king’s own command. He bid you marry my daughter and you have not fulfilled your obligation as a husband until she is with child.”

  Simon raked him with a rage that was brought on by sheer frustration and disgust. “And when she is with child, my lord Kelsey, then will the king believe I have done my duty to you and to him? I may then return to Avington?”

  Kelsey smiled a cold smile that hid many thoughts. “Aye, mayhap he would.” His gaze went to Sir Fredrick, whom Simon had not seen come in. The two exchanged a knowing glance, and Simon knew that as far as Kelsey was concerned he would never return to Avington. It was well that Christian would continue to write letters in order to garner support. He prayed that John would eventually be forced to release him.

  Oblivious to this the earl turned back to Simon. “Let that be your encouragement to get her bred.”

  As usual the cold tactlessness made Simon’s lips tighten. In spite of his awareness that Isabelle would not welcome a defense of her honor, Simon found himself slowly standing to face the older man. “I say again, and for the last time, this is a matter between Isabelle and myself. I will not discuss it with you now or ever. And even the king is unlikely to fault me in this.”

  Simon paused then, holding up a hand as Kelsey opened his mouth to reply, “And mark me well on one more thing. Isabelle is my wife, Isabelle Warleigh. You will remember that, though I have no control over your treatment of Isabelle as your daughter, never again will you speak of her so disrespectfully before me, or my men. It dishonors her as the lady of Avington, and through her, my household.”

  He swung around and strode away, but not before he saw his father-by-marriage’s face grow first flushed, then purple with anger. Yet even as he felt a sense of triumph he knew a growing discomfort with not only the earl’s insistence on Isabelle’s having a child, but her own determination. What were the two of them about?

  If they were in league, why had she warned him about her father at the lodge? He had no answers to these questions, but he would.

  Chapter Nine

  Isabelle had paced the battlements restlessly for the past hour. This had gained her no ease. The relentless stirrings inside her would not be lessened by any amount of activity. She stopped and looked over the darkness beyond the castle walls. The sky overhead hung heavy and brooding with clouds that blocked out the moon and stars.

  Over and over again she recalled what Simon had said to her father in the hall. She knew that neither of them was aware that she had overheard their conversation.

  It was, in fact, only due to the fact that she had been on her way to get a sl
eeping posset from the head cook that she had heard aught of what had been said. Although Isabelle realized Simon had not defended her on her own account, because even if only temporarily, she was the lady of Avington, she felt…She was not sure what it was she was feeling.

  She did know that she kept remembering the last thing he had said before they left the lodge. That there was desire between them. This left her confused and unsettled as never before in her life.

  She was beset by memories of herself and Simon, the things they had done. The fires he had awakened with his touch, his lips, burned brighter and hotter with each invading image. Frustrated beyond measure, Isabelle reached out to grip the edge of the crenelation before her. The rough stone bit into her tender fingers but did not distract her from her unwanted longing.

  Simon did not want her, and yet he did. She, utterly conscious of him as she was, could not but note the heat in his glance when he thought she was unaware. She had felt the stiffening of his body as he passed her on the stair the previous day. Inexperienced as she was, Isabelle knew what it meant. The intimacy they had shared at the lodge had removed the veil of innocence she had once known.

  The scraping of a heel upon stone interrupted her thoughts and she turned toward the sound. The guard who patrolled this section of wall passed behind her. Though he made a great pretense of staring straight ahead Isabelle felt his attention upon her, knew he was wondering why she would be here alone at this late hour.

  Isabelle stiffened from head to toe. She would not be the object of any speculation. Not only did it gall her to think of any of the castle folk wondering about her, she could not have her father noting any unusual behavior.