The Other Woman

by The other woman (NCP) (lit)

  Chirr bowed. She wondered for a moment if he disapproved of the arrangement, but chose to ignore her thoughts. Chirr had been a faithful servant for years. It was Roland she should be concerned about.

  Allyson retired to her room, bathed and had a quick meal. Finished, she retreated to her study and sat down with her correspondence. In the morning she would go over her breeding list with her stable master and inspect the spring planting. There were a thousand things to do and she was eager to see to it, since the work would keep her safely insulated from Roland.

  Roland had other ideas.

  "So this is where you’re hiding." He smiled as he entered her study. "It’s far too pretty a day waste with accounts."

  Half her mind on her work, she shook her head. "I’ve spent the morning riding and will be outdoors much of tomorrow. Time spent here helps my estate to prosper."

  He came around to read over her shoulder. His breath fanned her ear as leaned down for a closer look. "You work hard."

  "As do we all here," she said warningly. "If I fail there is no one to save these people from my mistakes."

  "You are certain?" His voice was a rough whisper near her ear.

  Allyson stood up and crossed her arms. He was too close, but she didn’t back away like a spineless ninny. "What, should I think you would save them? You taught me differently."

  "You should not strike bargains if you don’t like it when you win," he said, moving menacingly closer. His eyes dipped to her mouth. "And we must really work on your perceptions."

  Her traitorous heart sped up. She knew she was breathing too quickly. Maybe he would think it was temper. "I am not willing," she said bluntly. More than once that hard tone and direct look had cooled a man’s ardor.

  He straightened. For a woman who was said to be a sizzling lover she certainly had a way of checking a man’s interest. The tone had just enough insult, just enough disinterest to make pride bleed. It also made him angry, though he wasn’t going to let her know that.

  "Let me know when you are," he said as if they were merely discussing the best time for a ride. "I meant what I said about attending to the honor of my house. If it is not with me, then you will not sleep with anyone."

  Her mouth opened slightly before she recovered. "I see. You get to--how did my charming father put it? Plow the field while I sit home and molder."

  "You mistake me." His eyes moved over her, hot and tempted. "I will wait for you."

  Allyson’s brow quirked. "For a year?"

  "And longer. This time we will have a marriage in truth. I pledged both our fidelities when I agreed to consummate."

  Nothing he could have said would have staggered her more. "W-what do you mean?"

  He confirmed her worst nightmare. "Did you think I was playing? I always count the cost before I do a thing, wife. This is no game. We will have an honest marriage."

  She felt the blood drain from her face. "But … you barely thought about it. How...."

  Roland smiled. "Have a pleasant evening, wife." He left the room, whistling.

  Allyson sat down before she fell down. His horrible words echoed in her head. He wanted a real marriage. Panic made her heart race. No! It was too late. Worse, it was on his terms. She would have no control. He would have no mercy with her heart.

  Nausea swamped her. She quickly folded her arms on her desk and put her head on them. She was breathing too fast and it was making her lightheaded. She tried to control it but one thought kept defeating her.

  He would hurt her. God help her, this time there would be nothing left.

  * * * *

  Rain drizzled down her neck and her boots squished with every step. It had seemed like a fine idea to walk through the orchard this morning. The sky had been gray, but she hadn’t expected heaven’s trapdoor to spring open with a deluge. Her breath fogged in the chill, but at least she was nearly home. Best of all, she’d avoided Roland for another hour.

  Chirr handed her a towel as he shut the door behind her. "There’s honeyed goat’s milk and piping hot soup in the dining room, my lady."

  She smiled at him as she freed her braid and toweled her long hair. The man was worth his weight in platinum. "Thank you, Chirr. Remind me to find you a nice young dancing girl this week." She winked.

  He snorted. "And the missus would have my hide. Besides, I’m past the years when such a thing would appeal."

  Finished, she tossed the towel to a waiting maid. "Hm. Maybe I should send the girl to his lordship instead." The idea had merit.

  "Don’t do it," Chirr said, low. "Your husband is a proud man. The insult would be sure to fire his temper in a way you wouldn’t care for."

  Surprised, she considered him. "You like him."

  "He is known as an honorable man."

  Allyson’s brows rose.

  "In all other manners then what pertains to you," Chirr said calmly. "Though some would argue that he merely obeys your agreement."

  She gave him a sharp glance.

  "It was common enough knowledge, my lady."

  She grunted, kicked off her wet boots for the maid to deal with and retired to her room upstairs. It irked her that her servants knew so much, but it came coupled with long and loyal service, so she had no reason to complain.

  At least they cared.

  Disgusted with her gloomy attitude, she snarled at herself and flung her clothes off. Naked, she stalked to the armoire and selected new clothes as she vowed to put Roland from her mind and carry on as always. It was the only way to survive.

  Fate--or more accurately--Roland had other plans.

  She had just sat down to eat when he joined her in the dinning room and announced, "I’ll be paying a visit to your troublesome neighbor tomorrow."

  Allyson nearly swallowed her spoon. She stared at Roland over her soup bowl. "This will not work."

  "Maybe, but it won’t be dull." He sat at down at her left hand and accepted a bowl of soup from a servant.

  Certain he had no understanding of the people involved, she pressed, "He’s no one to trifle with, Roland. Lord Frye and I have achieved a standoff and it’s gone quite well these last two years, so if you don’t mind--"

  "I do mind. As I said before, it’s the kind of thing a husband should do."

  Her jaw worked. "You also called him old and blind. He is neither, and I will be forced to deal with him when you are gone!"

  His steel gaze snapped to her. He said quietly, menacingly, "I will not be leaving."

  So, he had a temper after all. Allyson dropped her gaze and poked at her soup as she considered her strategy. Not for a moment did she believe him about staying. Unfortunately she could easily picture him charging up to Frye and causing untold trouble. A wise woman wouldn’t let him out of her sight.

  She narrowed her eyes in consideration. "I think I’ll go with you."

  Roland waved a generous hand. "Feel free."

  Ooh, she really didn’t care for this casual attitude. It didn’t bode well. "You are aware of the nature of his claim, aren’t you?" she asked carefully. Maybe he didn’t understand the full insidiousness of Frye’s scheme. "It’s difficult to disprove."

  With a frankness that made her blush, he looked her in the eye and said, "He claims to have taken your maidenhead. Did he?"

  Though her mouth worked, no sound came out. That expression combined with his look made her feel like an unruly child, and lower. It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel that way.

  "He further claims an undying love for you and cites an ancient law stating that a woman’s first lover is her rightful spouse. If it were true he would have a powerful reason for invading by force and taking you and your lands. So far the queen has accepted your denial," he added without expression. "The lack of evidence works against him as well."

  "I have not--would not--sleep with him," she said clearly and distinctly. "I loathe him and always have. Furthermore, the queen is not just working on my word. To prove my good faith I compiled a list of all my lov
ers along with their signatures and presented it to the queen." An act which still stung her pride, but at least it had been voluntary. "I assure you, my first lover was and is in no position to threaten my lands." Her look dared him to challenge her.

  The clink of his spoon seemed overly loud as he added spice and honey to his warm goat’s milk. As serene as a monk, he said, "The list is said to be ten pages long, with small print."

  She choked. Though she’d heard the rumors--there were always rumors--no one had ever said them to her face. Suddenly she couldn’t bear to be at the table another minute.

  Roland beat her to the door and blocked her way.

  "Move." The one word was hoarse. She didn’t dare look at him.

  He grasped her chin, forced her to look at him. He didn’t seem impressed by her brimming eyes. "So you do have pride."

  Allyson jerked away. "Everyone has pride."

  "But you work so hard to make everyone think you’re free with your body."

  Backed into a corner, she defended herself without thinking. "It’s necessary. They believe it anyway. If I fought the rumors I’d be wasting my energy. It’s better to live up to them, to prove they can’t hurt me. I gain power when I’m as stern and ungovernable as they think me." Her hands gestured as her anxiety increased.

  Arms crossed, he studied her with a shrewd inspection. "So you’ve become a wild Amazon in an effort to instill respect and fear into your enemies. I must say, it’s worked."

  Then why did she suddenly feel vulnerable? Perhaps it was the way his knowing look seemed to lay her heart bare, as if he had demolished a barrier and was viewing her naked soul. The thought made her tremble. Worse, a throbbing began low, in a place she’d tried to forget about for ten years. Ignoring it hadn’t dampened the flame, and now, inexplicably, it burned hotter than ever. Everything in her craved his touch, wished to surrender.

  To hide her vulnerability, she looked away. Disguising the rapid rise and fall of her chest was more difficult. "If you’re through prying, I have things to do."

  Instead of moving, his hands came around her and linked behind her back. "Perhaps I’d like to pry some more," he whispered, his look scorching.

  His hot breath played over her neck as he bent and nipped her ear.

  Hands flat against his chest, she braced herself even as her bones turned to jelly. "I d-don’t … think … um...." His tongue whorled around her ear and poked playfully inside. A hard masculine thigh eased between her legs and pressed.

  She gasped, panting in earnest now. How had he known?

  Without remembering the move, she found herself pressed against the wall. His big body moved and slid along her every inch, exciting her more than if he’d explored her with his hands. The movement was utterly carnal, explicitly sexual. She couldn’t help but respond.

  "Ohh...." The hand not gripping his shirt tentatively fumbled for his waist, grasped his hip.

  Encouraged, his hands slid into her hair and tilted her head back for a commanding kiss.

  It rocked her.

  He captured her mouth and surged inside, a storm-tossed wave that left her clinging to his hard form. Even when he lifted his mouth the desire had her breathing in short, hard pants. Dizziness assailed her, and she stared at him with hazed vision, unable to focus on anything but sensation. She was lost....

  And he knew it. A growl of satisfaction rumbled in his chest. Victory was so much the sweeter when the adversary was worthy, and this woman had been worth the challenge. Now it was time to enjoy the spoils.

  Roland slammed the door shut with his foot. He would take her against the wall, or maybe on the floor. The table was good. Anywhere, and before she regained her senses. In moments she’d be screaming his name and arching beneath him as he brought her pleasure. Already her nails dug into his back and the thought of them tightening as she climaxed....

  He reached for his belt.

  It was so hard to think, and it wasn’t possible until she heard the snick of leather zipping through belt loops. Roland was going to take her. Right now.

  She slid aside.

  He caught her. "I think not." He pressed her up against the wall with his hips, surged against her, leaving no doubt he was ready. Now.

  Desire warred with fear. Fear won. She shivered as she pushed against him, and not with pleasure. "Get off! I am not willing."

  Had she said she didn’t want it he would have had a ready rebuttal, but that phrase cooled his ardor and fired his temper. His face tight, he said, "Could have fooled me."

  True fear turned her hands to ice. He would not stop. No man would go this far and then stop, especially not when the woman had all but encouraged him. "I am not willing," she said in a small voice.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. Long seconds passed as eyes hard with passion gauged the extent of her fear.

  He shoved away from the wall and gave her his back. "Then go!"

  Relieved at her miraculous reprieve, she ran.

  Roland stood there trembling, his hands fisted at his sides, unable to believe she’d asked him to stop. That he’d let her. No woman had ever let him do what he’d done and then demanded that he stop. She’d been willing--more than willing!

  He snarled and reached for his dropped belt. The leather flexed in his hands as he though fondly of using it on her backside. Women! One of these days he was going to understand them--presuming one of them didn’t kill him with frustration first.

  * * * *

  He was gone when she woke up. The servants informed her that he’d left right after she’d retired.

  It burned. He’d gone behind her back and would again, if this proved anything. It was far too late to do anything about it, but it was the perfect opportunity for her to visit an old friend.

  She needed someone to hold her that night.

  Chapter 8

  Grey dawn was still just a hope when Roland and his escort of ten rode up to Frye’s castle and demanded entrance. His banner was recognized, and his reputation got him admitted.

  Once inside, Frye’s captain, a stocky, grim man with craggy features, met him in the bailey. Several of the captain’s men flanked him, and others loitered in the area. That didn’t count the bowmen on the wall. "My Lord Frye has been summoned, my lord. But he wished to know the nature of your visit while he prepares."

  Roland snorted. "He knows why I am here. Hasten the fool along--I’m come to talk. This time."

  A grunt of agreement was all the effect Roland’s warning had on the seasoned captain. By his battle-hardened appearance and imperturbable demeanor, he’d been through enough battles to know when the advantage was his. This time.

  "My Lord Roland! How nice to see you. Won’t you come in from the cold?" Lord Frye said as he hurried down the steps from the great hall, his expression just a little too friendly in the torchlight. Of medium height and slight build, Frye’s ash hair was just beginning to recede, and there was tightness to his pale green eyes. Those eyes shifted as he extended his too hearty invitation.

  Roland considered the little man, taking his time to dismount. Why not? He finally asked himself. By all appearances, Frye was a coward who’d just realized his reckoning had come. If his fawning manner was any indication, he’d decided to slick up to Roland in an attempt to control the damage.

  Could Frye have had something to do with Roland’s betrayal? Doubtful. The man lacked the guts, and Roland’s investigation hadn’t turned up the worm’s name. Still, the man was an opportunist, and a sleazy one at that. If matters came to a head, he’d be glad to slit Frye’s gullet.

  Leaving his men with the horses, Roland followed Frye into the hall, where servants were hastily laying a table. A servant poured both of them a flagon of wine. Before Frye could drink, Roland switched their cups.

  For a moment, Frye seemed about to protest, then he closed his mouth and offered a tepid smile. "I think we’ve a misunderstanding, my lord."

  Roland noticed he didn’t touch his wine. "What’s not to understand? Y
ou’ve been after my wife and lands. I’ve returned to claim them with the queen’s blessing. If you understand that, and what it means to cross me, there’ll be no problems."

  Frye said carefully, "For these past years, it seemed as if you had no interest in either of them. I thought, for the country’s sake, that someone ought to take them in hand lest our enemies over the boarder take an interest in them." He ignored Roland’s snort. "And I have a rightful claim."

  A dangerous heat gathered in Roland’s eyes. "You have no way of proving it."

  Hands spread, Frye said earnestly, "I’m sorry, my lord. You cannot change the past." There was a hint of smugness in about him.

  Knowing Frye’s game, Roland smirked. "Neither can you, because I know who took Ally’s maidenhead. I was there."

  The smile died on Frye’s face and he took on a sickly hue as Roland’s insinuation sunk in. He tried to recover. "She must have deceived me, then, so I would fight for her."

  Losing patience with Frye’s game, Roland stood. "The only one deceived is you, if you think you can keep up this game. Cease your protests to the queen and take your eye off what is mine, or when next I come I’ll raze your castle and everything in it." Roland stalked out. He had nothing more to fear from a coward like Frye.

  * * * *

  Roland returned home to find that his wife was not in residence. Chirr averted his gaze when he gave the name of her destination.

  Ironwood castle. A muscle twitched in Roland’s jaw. He’d heard of that name.

  All day long he’d spent dealing with her problems, straightening out the mess she’d made of her life. Now she betrayed him by sneaking off to one of her more notorious lovers. It only made it worse that he would have willingly given her what she turned to another for, dragging his honor through the mud as she did.

  He was cold, he was wet, and he burned with anger. "Order fresh horses and men. I want to be at Ironwood in one hour," Roland snarled as he ripped his wet shirt over his head and dashed up the stairs. The storm might soak him, but at least he’d start out dry.