* * * *
The chill was finally leaving her bones. Merrick’s warm body helped tremendously.
She smiled affectionately and looked up the cushioned dais where they reclined. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he was compelling. And exotic. What other lord would style his hall after that of a barbarian king? Fur rugs and woven tapestries of geometric design insulated the stone walls and floor, while intricately woven cashmere cushions of creams, browns, blacks and the occasional gold or scarlet thread offered comfortable places to recline. The table, now empty save for a platter of cheese, smoked meats and savory bread, was a low affair with cushions in place of chairs. Lamps of multicolored glass supplemented the light from the wall lamps. He’d even taken a page from the Romans and heated the floors and walls with fire draughts beneath the stones and within the walls. She was in the process of having the same done in the new hall she was building, but she’d never have thought of it without his inspiration.
She’d met him in battle, on a day much like today. One of her more greedy neighbors had attacked her on the way home from a meeting. Unfortunately for him, he’d done so near Merrick’s land. Worse for him, Merrick had been out hunting and heard the sound of battle. He’d ridden down on the attackers like an avenging fury, narrowly saving Ally from an arrow in her back. He’d invited the wounded party to shelter at his castle for the night. She’d been a frequent visitor thereafter, and the rest had come with time.
They were not alone in the hall. Some of Merrick’s favorite warriors and their women reclined with them, enjoying the respite from the rain. Used to seeing her there, they sent her the occasional smile or word, most too sated by the fine meal and finer wine to offer much conversation.
Merrick idly toyed with her hair.
He didn’t love her. Merrick loved only himself, if that. But he enjoyed the warmth of her body. They made trade of it--it was the basis of their relationship. Uncomplicated warmth. Not even the remote possibility of falling in love. Mutual respect and mutual self-loathing. They understood each other’s darkness well.
"Tell me of your husband," Merrick said with irony. "I did not think he was so complacent as to allow his woman such free rein."
Surprised that he would bring it up now--her arrival in the grayness of the storm had barely raised a brow earlier--she turned to face him. Of course he knew all her business. Roland’s arrival was hardly the secret of the countryside. "I do not walk in fear of Darchours, Merrick."
He stroked the hair from her face. "And he will not care that you are here?"
"It is none of his concern," she retorted, becoming annoyed. His questions were stirring a frisson of nervousness she’d tried to ignore. For the first time she considered whether she was forcing a confrontation she hadn’t intended between these men. She darted a questioning look at Merrick, wondering what he thought she was about.
He just smiled that dark, enigmatic smile. No one ever knew what he was going to do but him.
Concerned now, she turned her attention to preventing disaster. The smartest thing she could do, if Roland showed, was to get between the two men. Though how wise it was to stand between a falcon and a hawk, she didn’t care to contemplate.
* * * *
The rain worked its way beneath his oilskin and turned the roads to soup. The only consolation was that robbers wouldn’t be out in such weather--not that they would have bothered a party of their size. Roland wasn’t counting on Lord Merrick of Ironwood’s goodwill.
By the time they reached Merrick’s castle, his hands were stiff and he could barely feel the reins. They thundered over the drawbridge. Half of his men waited with the horses and the others followed him as he strode grimly up the great hall steps. He fully expected to find Ally naked in the lord’s bed with Ironwood atop her, so it came as no surprise when he charged into the great hall to find them together.
Ironwood reclined on a cushion, lightly massaging Ally’s shoulders. She reclined against his stomach, her head thrown back in pleasure, little sighs of rapture coming from her slightly parted lips. She straightened instantly when the massive door crashed open and warriors spilled in through the gap, lead by her murderous husband.
Ironwood did not look surprised to see him. Neither did the warriors who immediately rose to flank him.
Apparently he’d caught them at the prelude. How sweet, Roland thought with a sneer as he unsheathed his sword. "Move away from him, woman."
She flinched at his ugly tone. "You’d kill a man for massaging my shoulders?" she asked, her voice tight.
"No, but I’d kill him for screwing my wife, which looks to be his next move." He seized her arm and yanked her behind him. His men took hold of her, preventing escape. He would deal with her later.
"We’ve yet to ‘screw’ or anything else, Darchours. Though had I not lost the ability in battle, I would be the first to deflower your forgotten treasure," Ironwood said insolently. He rose to his feet at his leisure, his manner daring Darchours to take a cut at him.
Roland paused with his blade at the ready. He longed to see blood flowing at Ironwood’s strong throat. No doubt his weak willed wife found him handsome. He had that look about him. But.... "You are unable to bed a woman?" It was the only thing which might save his life.
Bitterness twisted Ironwood’s fine mouth. "My wife left me over it. I’ve kept your wife warm on a few nights, but unfortunately that was all. Check her yourself if you doubt my word." His brow quirked. "She’s undoubtedly more pure than the company you’ve been keeping, Darchours."
At the mention of Ally, his mood turned ugly again. "I seriously doubt there’s anything there left to check. As for you, I will confirm your story. If you are lying I will return and slit you from your groin to your throat." Though he doubted Ironwood was lying. No man admitted to losing his manhood without a compelling reason.
His good eye narrowed on his wife. Now there was where he ought to take his vengeance.
"Do it," she snarled. "Go ahead, kill me! But take one vow first, Darchours. Swear you have never done--and often--what you would be killing me for." Dark contempt glittered in her eyes.
"So that is what this is about. You wish to punish me for keeping to the deal we made." The discovery completely changed his mood, especially when a chagrined color stained her cheeks.
"Think what you like," she gritted, nearly choking on the words.
"I will." He would consider it as he dragged her home in the freezing rain. Maybe it would keep him from laying his belt to her backside. As for Ironwood....
Roland gave Ironwood the evil eye. "I know of your … affliction. And I will still not tolerate your hands on my wife. Come near her again and it will be both your deaths," he said with deadly menace.
"If you can take it, you’ve earned it, Darchours," Ironwood said with a toothy smile. "No man yet has defeated me in battle, and you won’t be the first."
Leprosy take the man, in another life Roland could have almost liked him. "Let’s go," he ordered his men. Still gripping Allyson, they made their wary way from the hall.
* * * *
"Shall we close the gates, sir? He may kill her," Ironwood’s captain said with some concern.
A faint smile ghosted across Merrick’s stern mouth and he watched through the open door as Allyson’s husband tossed the snarling cat up into the saddle. "No. I think Darchours has a different sort of punishment in mind." He took a goblet from the table and raised it in a silent toast. "Wish him well. He’ll need all a warrior’s luck to win that battle."
* * * *
Allyson cursed him as he tossed her up on his horse. Roland grabbed her hair.
"Fight me on this, and I swear I’ll do something you’ll regret," he hissed into her face.
With one white-eyed look of fury, she subsided. By the tension in her frame as he swung up behind, she wasn’t done.
Good. Neither was he. The punishment he planned for his rutting little wife made his blood run hot.
They were well on
their way home before he loosed some of the venom in his tongue. "Don’t you want to know what became of my meeting with your other lover? Or are you as careless of his life as you seem to be with Ironwood’s?"
"You would not have killed him," she shot back. "No man fights Merrick and lives."
Disbelief made him laugh into her hair. He refused to be wounded by her defense of her lover. To prove it, one arm snaked tight around her waist. "You have not yet seen me in battle, wife."
"Release me and I will show you battle," she pushed at him with her shoulders.
"I will give you release," he growled, a promise and a threat. Let her chew on that.
Instead of parrying, she said tightly, "You were so eager to tell me of your visit with Lord Frye."
"I left him bloody and bruised," he said, just to see her reaction.
She stiffened. "I see I’ll have to double the guards." Acid laced her tone.
"Don’t bother. I didn’t, but he was made to understand that any move against us would result in a contract on his life. He said he will withdraw his writ from the queen."
"And you believed him?"
"I will be watching to ensure he does." He almost hoped the fool defied him. He was in the mood to wreak some vengeance.
Allyson couldn’t believe his insolence in the face of a very real threat. Maybe he was one of the best warriors in the land, but Frye was wily, and should not be so easily dismissed. To be honest, the thought that he might have easily solved a problem that had bedeviled her for years made her feel.... "Why do you bother, Darchours?" she burst out. "What do you want that I haven’t already given you? I sent you money--"
"Maybe I want a taste of what everyone else has already had," he whispered menacingly in her ear, punishing it with a stinging nip.
Ah! Surely he hadn’t meant for that to feel so good? An edge of hysteria at her impending fall entered her voice. "You never cared for Riverdell any more than you cared for me. Nothing you have to say will move me at this late hour."
"I made sure you lacked for nothing."
"I never expected to be abandoned!" The things she’d lived through, fought against. Had he thought his young, discarded wife would find it easy to win the respect of his fighting men and the local lords? She’d had no idea power would cost so much. Let him run his own kingdom. It was time she took her freedom back.
He remained an unyielding wall at her back. "As you say. Wife."
* * * *
Once home, they dried off in their respective rooms and met again in the hall. Roland hadn’t eaten, and though he was sure Allyson had no desire to be with him, she was wise enough not to defy the orders he’d sent to join him.
So she sat and tapped the butt of her spoon against the table and nursed her cider, keeping one wary eye on him. Perhaps she was smart enough to let him sate his hunger in the hopes that it would dull his anger, too.
She could hope, he thought grimly. It was one thing to know the tales of his wife’s infidelity. It was another to return home after fighting her battles and catch her in the act.
A younger Roland would have turned her over his knee and spanked her blue. Even now he was tempted. Only his knowledge of what she had endured to make her so calculatingly provocative temporarily stayed his hand. This was a punishment that needed to be meted out cold.
She’d wanted him to react. Had she wanted Merrick to kill him? Had she reached that point? Did she even realize how desperate she’d become? If he’d learned anything at all about her, it was that she preferred to take on a problem directly, not use others to attain her goals. If she had used Merrick, even unconsciously, it could mean she doubted she’d be able to fight Roland alone.
"My lord? Milady?" Chirr cautiously entered the room. "We have guests at the gate, requesting admittance. Lord Jean Van Sadis, his wife and--"
"Tell them to ride to the abbey," Allyson snapped. "A little time among the monks would be good for his lordship."
Curious about her instant reaction, Roland studied her over his plate.
"He has a young son, milady."
A muscle flexed in her jaw. A child. Her expression said the world was out to bedevil her today.
"Admit them," Roland said casually, his eyes on Allyson. "Unless my wife has some reason she’d like to share with me as to why we should not."
Expression fierce, she matched him stare for stare.
"No? Then show them to a room and invite them to the table. Have cook prepare what he can for our guests."
As soon as Chirr was gone, he murmured to Allyson, "I hope this is not another lover of yours. I’d hate to spill his blood all over my hall." The words were light, but anger stirred at the mere thought. He wanted to know what this man was to her.
"He was never a lover of mine," she said with such vehemence that he raised a brow.
She looked aside, and he swore he saw a flash of bleak pain in her eyes. "I do not want him here, but I will not keep a child in the rain. Doubtless he knew that."
Did he? What else does he know? Roland wondered darkly.
Allyson greeted Van Sadis with the frozen grace of an ice queen. His wife received a slightly warmer address, and her eyes lingered on the child, a boy of perhaps four.
Lady Sadis averted her eyes from Allyson. "He is young to be at the table, I know, but your maid said you wouldn’t mind?"
"I do not ban children from my table. Please, be seated." Allyson resumed her seat. This time she ordered wine. Though she sipped it carefully, Roland wagered he’d have had monk’s time of it prying it away.
Sadis was slightly older than Allyson, dark of eye and hair, as was his son. Unfailingly polite to his wife and child, he gave Roland no outward cause for concern.
Allyson treated him like something she’d scraped off her shoe.
"You’ve made changes to the hall since last I saw it," Sadis said to Allyson with a polite smile.
"You would know," she answered coldly. The message in her eyes made Sadis look away. But he tried again. "I was also sorry to hear about the death of your horse last winter. His brother is available, if you would be interested."
For a moment she looked horribly tempted. Then she rose from the table. "He can’t be worth the price. Lady Sadis." She nodded to the other woman and departed.
A heartbeat passed. Invisible threads of tension tightened over the table.
Roland waited, certain of what would happen next.
Lord Sadis looked at him. "Will you excuse me? I’m afraid nature calls."
"Of course," Roland murmured. As soon as Sadis’s back was turned he caught the eye of a guard and gave a barely perceptible nod. Then he flashed the nervous Lady Sadis a smile. "Tell me about your son," he said smoothly, distracting her while the guard slipped out.
* * * *
She didn’t even reach her room before Jean Van Sadis hurried up behind her. "Allyson, wait!"
Dread weighted her step. She paused before her door and faced him. "You were unwise to follow me. My husband is a jealous man." And at that moment she couldn’t have been happier about it. Jean had never understood the reasons behind her rejection, or never accepted them.
Jean shook his head. "You treat me so coldly, but you let me inside the gates."
"My husband extended his hospitality in light of the savage weather. Do not think it had anything to do with me."
"Don’t be this way," he said softly, extending his hand imploringly. Hurt and disappointment showed in his eyes. "I’d hoped that you’d have forgiven me by now."
"You’re mistaken; nothing has changed." And never would.
"I’ve thought about you a lot," he tried again, that cursed hope in his voice.
"A wasted effort," Frost chilled the words. He didn’t heed them. She stiffened as he moved intimately closer.
"I still want you," he said softly.
"You want me as your whore, not as your wife."
"It was never like that!" he said harshly, tension in every line of his body.
&
nbsp; "What else was it? You call it love to make a woman care for you and then announce that you’ve already taken a wife?" Oh, how that blow had hurt. Still bled, for that matter. Never again. No man would hurt her like that again.
"I explained that to you." The words were clipped, frustrated.
"Yes, I remember your explanations very well. There’s no need to repeat them." She desperately wished to back away from him, but the door to her room was at her back, and he would only follow her in. She could only hold him off with her chill.
Disregarding it, he crowded her with his body, putting his hands on either side of her, giving her no choice but to push against his chest in an effort to keep him back. "Will your pride keep you warm at night? Passion isn’t something you can just toy with and then cast aside." He lowered his head. "I know you still want me."
She twisted aside, and he missed his goal, his mouth brushing her cheek instead. It hurt. Hurt in so many ways. This man could crush her spirit, curse him. "Go to your wife if you want affection. You chose her; enjoy her."
"Can’t you forgive me for that?" he whispered harshly, sounding wounded. "Let me give you what I can." He lowered his voice. "You cannot be trembling this way and say you do not want me." He nuzzled under her ear, and she jerked away. Much more and she would be ill.
"If I tremble, it is because you make my skin crawl," she grated out. "I loathe you, you dishonorable, deceitful--" She pushed, but she might as well have tried to uproot a tree with her small strength. She was dangerously close to giving in to fear and screaming, but her throat was too choked to cry out.
"That is not true and we both know it." He pulled back to stare at her, emotion in his eyes. "I still love you."
No! Not that blow. Her voice shook. "Would you hurt someone you love? If I believed you loved me, and I were to give you my love, how do you think I would feel to know you left my bed only to go crawling into the bed of another woman? That you would lay with her, that you would touch her and let her touch you--"
The Other Woman Page 7