"Esme, couldst thee arrange for a note to be sent to my father? I wouldst let him know I am well."
"Aye, milady. Any one of the castle knights would gladly take it for thee."
"Dost thou trust them, Esme, for I wouldst send the note without my husband's knowledge?"
She pulled a face. "Oh, I see. Mayhap it wouldst be better if I gave it to my brother. He lives not far from the castle and for a small coin wouldst do this for thee."
"Coin. Of course." She walked to her chest of drawers and opened the second drawer. Underneath her chemises she had placed a small pouch filled with gold coins her father had given her. Only it wasn't there. She searched and searched, but it was nowhere to be found.
"Esme, my money pouch hast gone! Who hath been in here that would steal it so?"
Esme shook her head. "Only thy husband and I, milady, and upon my own life, I didst not take it!"
Arabella stared hard at her and could see in her eyes that she spoke the truth. In which case, John had chosen to take it from her. Wherefore had he done such a thing?
Pursing her lips, she quickly made her way down to the great hall where she found him sipping wine in front of the fire.
"Ah, Arabella, I wondered when thee wouldst join me. Come, take a seat at the dais, supper will be served shortly." He stood up and towered over her tiny frame.
"Milord, hast thou taken my pouch of coins?" she demanded instantly.
He raised an eyebrow. "Aye, it is in my possession."
She placed her hands on her hips angrily. "Wherefore didst thou take something that doth not belong to thee? I demand that thee return it!"
"Thou demand? Nay, wife I own all that thee possess—thee hath no need of coin!"
"I do!"
"For what, may I ask?" His eyes bored into hers and she shifted uncomfortably.
What could she say? She didn't want him to know about the secret note she wanted to send to her father. Quickly, she thought of an excuse.
"I wouldst see Esme with a coin for her brother. He is unwell and in need of a physician."
"Truly? For I saw him only an hour ago, and he seemed as fit as a fiddle. How peculiar."
She flushed angrily.
He continued. "Tell Esme to bring him to the castle. Our own physician can see him—or dost thou tell a lie?"
"Give me my coins!" Arabella demanded angrily, losing patience.
"Nay."
"Damn thee!" She went to run off, but he grabbed her and drew her close. She stared up at him petulantly.
"I shall hath to erase this wayward trait of thine to lie at every given opportunity. Thou hast not even been here one full day, and yet already a lie has uttered forth from those pretty lips."
She curled her lips and sneered. "What dost thou expect, milord? Respect? Love? For thee shall hath neither! Thou should not hath taken what was not thine!"
"I shall take whatever I want, milady. Thou dost belong to me and so now doth thy worldly possessions. The sooner thee accepts that, the better."
His leaned down and captured her lips fiercely with his. She fought against him, pushing her small fists against his broad chest, but her strength was no match against his. His kiss deepened, and despite her resolve to hate him, she found herself responding. Her mouth opened and his tongue sought entrance. The sudden intimacy sent a wave of desire through her. It was as though she was transported back to the teenager she had once been, kissing the man she had so desired. She moaned huskily, as his lips dropped to her neck, his hands kneading her soft flesh through her dress.
Suddenly he stopped and pushed her away, keeping a distance betwixt them. "Thou art mine, Arabella, and I shall treat thee how I see fit. Thy coin remains in my hands, until I deem it necessary to return it to thee. Dost thou understand?"
"I understand thou art cruel! Shame on thee to treat me so!" She turned and ran towards the door, but he bellowed out. "Guards!"
Her exit was immediately barred by two burly castle guards. She backed away and turning back around, stared at him in disgust. "Is this how thee intends to treat me?"
"Aye. Until thee understand thy position in the household then thee will find thyself a prisoner!"
He walked over and grabbed her hand. "Now, come take supper with me."
* * *
John pulled her towards the dais and, making sure she was seated, handed her a platter of bread and cheese before picking up a flagon of wine.
"Wine?"
She nodded sullenly whilst he filled her goblet. "'Tis no good sulking, Arabella. Thou willst learn to obey my rule, for I will brook no disobedience. Thou art my wife, and I expect thee to behave as befits the lady of this castle." He fixed his gaze on her. "Do not think of defying me, for thee will regret it."
"Thou cannot expect me to obey thy every command!" she sneered.
"I do and thee will."
He watched the rapid rise and fall of her bosom, as she tried to quell her anger. There was no denying it. Arabella had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Her hair was like spun silk and her skin akin to porcelain. If he did not hold such a grudge against her then mayhap he would have married her for her looks alone, but he had not.
He intended to make her life as miserable as his had been since leaving Arnscroft. For the first two years after his departure, he had either scavenged off the land or worked for coin travelling far afield. It had been hard, very hard. Then he had happened upon King Edward's camp in Halidon Hill. He had asked to join their ranks under the guise of John and after a quick assessment of his skills, he had been allowed to train with them until they deemed him ready to stand amongst them and fight as brothers.
Five years later, he had been given land in Terryn and a knighthood for services rendered. With plenty of coin, he had paid local builders to build him one of the finest castles in the county. When it was ready two years later, he decided that it was time to take a wife.
He rode back to Arnscroft in disguise. In the local village he asked about Mirabelle and was dismayed but not surprised to find her married these past nine years. Arabella, however, was still unwed, and that was when he hatched his plan to marry her.
She had ruined his life all those years ago—it was high time she paid for what she'd done.
Her father had been approachable, especially when he showed him proof of his land ownership and status. Aye, he had seemed quite eager to get rid of the wench. Would that he had been so certain if he had known his real identity!
It had seemed a little disconcerting to stand before the very man who had banished him all those years ago and have him converse as an equal. They had agreed the marriage, and Ulric had left before seeing Arabella.
Now she sat beside him as his wife. His to command. Hers to obey.
* * *
Arabella gulped back her wine and grimaced as the strong drink hit the back of her throat. This was not the fine wine she was used to at Arnscroft. She reached for the water and topped up the wine to at least make it palatable.
Whilst she drank, she lamented her situation more and more. How could she be expected to live with a man that detested her? She finished her meal in silence, and she arose slightly inebriated from her seat with the sole intention of seeking solace within her chamber. But John had other ideas. He placed a hand on her arm, stilling her movements. "Whither dost thou goest, wife?"
"I wish to retire," she replied.
"Nay, 'tis early and yet light. I wouldst show thee thy new home before darkness descends."
Without waiting for her reply, he steered her away from the table and stepping off the dais led her out of the hall. She felt tiny, as she fell into step next to him, and his hand on her elbow made her tremble, as differing emotions coursed through her. She should hate him, but part of her still yearned for his touch. Surely, somewhere within that beating heart lay her beloved Ulric. She would find him and rid him of John of Terryn for good.
John suddenly came to a stop in front of the stables outside in the bailey. "Marec n
eeds help with the horses. I hath decided that this will be one of thy chores."
She blinked rapidly taking in his words. "Chores? I do no chores! Thou hast serfs for that."
His grip on her elbow tightened, and he turned her to face him. "'Tis irrelevant whether I hath serfs enough or not. I hath ordered thee to aid Marec, and so thee shall!"
She tried to shrug his grip off, but he held fast. "Thou cannot order me about like a common serf. I am thy wife and will be treated with the respect I deserve!"
"Respect? Didst thou respect me when those lies slipped so easily from thy tongue to thy father?" His eyes pierced hers, his jaw tightening.
She stamped her foot. "Oh, fie on thee! Thou knowest not the truth, and yet thee will not hear my explanation. Thou art addle-brained."
"I shall let that comment pass, but say so again, and I shall not be so lenient." He spoke low, his words menacing. "I am lord of this castle, and thou wouldst do well to remember that." He pointed towards the stables again. "At matins, thee will rise early and report to Marec for duties."
Her temper began to boil. Mayhap all vestiges of Ulric were well and truly gone, because Ulric would never have expected such a thing. "Thou wouldst expect me to clean out dung?"
"Aye."
She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Nay! I shall not do it! 'Tis not the duty of a wife!"
"I will not tolerate disobedience, milady."
Her eyes sparked fire at him. "Tolerate what thee will—I refuse to lower myself to thy demands." She spun on her heel and began to storm off, only to come to an abrupt standstill, as his big hands fell upon her shoulders.
She felt his hot breath on her neck when, with a voice laced with steel, he said, "Thee will obey my every command. Should I find at matins that thee hath failed to attend Marec, thee will take the consequences. Now go lady and think upon my words!"
She shivered as much from his speech as his touch. Without a backward glance, she made haste towards her bed chamber. She had no intention of doing his bidding. But how she would escape the odious chore she had no idea. It was time to plot.
The next morning, John arose bright and early. Fully dressed and his ablutions done, he strode into his wife's bedchamber fully expecting to find her abed, but was pleasantly surprised to find the room empty. Mayhap she had taken heed of his warning. He immediately frowned. What was he thinking? Arabella had said not a word to him, but her body language had spoken volumes. She had no intention of helping Marec, but why was she gone from her chamber? Had she run away? Nay, the guards would have notified him. With a suspicious mind, he made his way down to the stables.
From a distance, he could hear the clanging of metal coming from the blacksmiths where Marec would be found to be working. An affable fellow, he was a steadfast and dedicated serf. Cautiously, John approached the stables remaining out of sight of the main entrance. He could hear someone wielding a broom, and the sunlit rays were filled with dust and tiny pieces of flying straw—indication that someone was definitely cleaning the stalls, but the burning question was—was it his wife?
He moved nearer to the door and peered through the hinged aperture. When his eyes had adjusted to the darkened interior he could make out a red cape. His wife's cape. He smiled with satisfaction. So she had decided to obey him after all.
Stepping inside, he made a sudden entrance. "Good morrow, Arabella. Wherefore dost thou wear thy best cape to clean in?"
A shriek of fright filled the air and in that instant, John knew he'd been fooled. This was not his wife. In a heartbeat he had hold of the miscreant, and thrusting down the hood, exposed them for their true self.
"Esme!" His jaw dropped.
She dropped the broom and cried. "Milord! Oh, prithee forgive me!"
"Forgive thee?" He spat angrily. "Upon my soul I would sooner give thee a good hiding. What is afoot?"
"Milady asked me to take her place," she whimpered.
"For what return?"
Esme licked her lips and lowered her eyes to the floor. "A pair of lace gloves, milord. 'Tis for my daughter on her wedding day."
John let out a heavy sigh. Arabella knew just how to manipulate someone to her bidding. A trait he recognized in her since childhood. His jaw tightened. "Where is my wife?"
"I know not, milord. She ne'er told me."
"Dost thy speak the truth?"
Esme's eyes grew wide. "Aye, milord. On my daughter's life I speak no falsehood."
"Very well. I know thee to be of an honest nature, and in this instance, I feel thou hath been coerced into this trickery. Attend Marec until midday, whereupon thee will clean my wife's cape and return it in good fashion. Dost thou understand?"
"Aye, milord."
He released her arm and left her to work. His hand curled into a fist. Oh, how his wife's backside was going to pay for her disobedience.
* * *
Arabella shifted position and flicked over another page of her book, sighing softly. She had secreted herself away behind the wardrobe in her bedchamber. There was just enough room to place a few cushions on the floor and lay down with comfort. Being of slight stature, she had fit in perfectly.
She had heard John enter her chamber and exit just as quickly this morning when he surmised the room to be empty. She smiled wickedly. Oh, what satisfaction she had felt. Fie on him for thinking she would muck out stables! Her intention was to stay hidden, until later in the day, and then creep out to get some food. If John remained ignorant of her actions, then all would be well and good, but if he had found out, then mayhap remaining hidden until his temper cooled was her best option. For there was no doubt he would be riled. She worried her bottom lip. What would he do to her? Visions of lying across his strong thighs entered her mind, and she found herself a little breathless. The thought didn't scare her as much as excite her.
She shook herself and tried to resume reading, but found she was unable to concentrate properly. Shutting the book, she placed it next to her and pondered on how long she'd been hidden. Two hours must have passed—maybe three. That meant there was still another couple of hours until midday. She stretched, realizing that she was still tired from rising early to get Esme ready, so she snuggled into the cushions, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
* * *
It hadn't taken John long to find his wife. A quick search of her bedchamber had soon located her slumbering form behind the wardrobe. Her face was soft with sleep, and he found himself studying her. She was truly beautiful, possessing a perfect heart-shaped face with plump lips for kissing. He stopped himself. Such dangerous thoughts would take him away from his goal. Lest he forget how Arabella's lies ruined his life.
Laying one of his large hands on her slender shoulders, he shook her awake. She blinked slowly, and then, when her eyes registered who it was that had awoken her, she quickly sat up. "Ulric…I mean John!"
"Aye, milady,'tis I." His eyes locked with hers and he noticed her visibly gulp.
"I can explain!"
"Prithee do. I am most intrigued to hear another falsehood spill from thy wicked tongue for, in my opinion, there is only one explanation."
He held his hand out, and she reluctantly gave him hers, so he could help her out of the small recess. Drawing her over to the bed, he refused to let her hand go, even when she tried to pull away. He sat down and stood her in front of him, close.
"So, explain!"
Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing heavy. He raised his eyebrows waiting. Her lips pursed and finally she blurted. "Oh fie on thee! I cannot speak false on this matter. I hath no intention of working in the stables. I am lady of this castle and will be treated with respect." Her slippered foot stomped on the floor to emphasize her discord.
"Aye, 'tis true thou art lady of this castle, but thou art also my wife, and as my chattel thee will obey me in all things. Thou hath chosen to thwart me, and in doing so, thee will be punished."
Without warning, he dragged her down over his lap and threw her skirts
over her back. Her bare bottom was exposed, and he quickly began to smack the rounded orbs before she could comprehend what was happening.
Her legs began to kick in protest. "Aow! Desist!"
His hand continued to rain down on her bottom, each cheek alternately getting a thorough pounding. She protested loudly, but he took no heed.
"Cease thy tongue. Thou hast done wrong by Esme and by me. I will see thee punished for thy disobedience."
He punctuated each word with a smack, leaving her in no doubt as to his anger. The sound of his hand connecting with her buttocks, mixed with her shrieks, reverberated around the bedchamber.
Several spanks later, John paused. Arabella tried to rise off his lap, but his hand restrained her. "Let this be a lesson to thee, fair wife. Thou willst obey me, else thee find thyself over my knee. With no exception! Dost thou understand?"
He heard her sniffle, and then she grudgingly replied, "Aye, I understand."
"Very well." He finally let her up, whereupon she rubbed furiously at her backside whilst wearing a pained expression on her face.
"Thou hast hard hands, milord!"
"A fact thee should keep in mind." He stood up and placed a hand in the small of her back, then pushed her forward gently. "Come, we shall dine in the great hall, and thou shallst sit upon a hard chair, so thou can reflect on thy behaviour!"
He watched her face grow sullen, but she refrained from any retort. She needed discipline in her life, and by the rood, she would get it!
Chapter Three
For the next few days Arabella did as she was bid, but all the while she plotted and schemed to get away. She wanted to contact her father to rescue her from this hellish existence, and for that she would need coin, but the only way she could think of to obtain money–was by theft.
She was no thief, ordinarily, and the idea near scared her to death, but her need was great. She had scoured the castle from turret to bailey but had found no coin within. The dungeons were guarded, and even though she'd tried persuading and even ordering the guards for access–it had been denied.
Lost Love Page 3