by Mary Wine
“Wait—” Her hand flew up to cover her lips when the boy turned, a stunned look on his face. He didn’t stop moving, and continued on through the doorway while she sucked in a gasp of horror.
“Do not ever countermand my orders to my squire. My training is what will keep them alive.”
She shook her head. “I know…I didn’t think before I spoke.” She suddenly recalled exactly why she had been so brazen as to interfere between a knight and his squire. “Yet it is your own fault. You have no right to shock me in such a fashion.”
Determination glittered in his eyes, and she recalled the look very well from when he had stood up in the bathhouse. She should have combed her hair before the nightmare had arrived.
“What shocks you, lady?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “A knight of honor may share a bed with a widow so long as his sword is placed down the center of it.” He reached over and lifted his sword in one sure motion and placed it on the surface of the bed.
“That is acceptable within the chivalric code.” Triumph flickered in his eyes as his lips curled into a victory smile.
The man was attempting to outmaneuver her.
Isabel tried to resist admitting that Ramon de Segrave was very good at forming strategy.
Far too good.
“I will sleep elsewhere.” She kept her tone low, to hide the emotions that were roaring through her. She struggled to remain poised and calm so the beast wouldn’t know how much he needled her.
“There is not a foot of space anywhere in this keep not being used by my knights.”
“But—”
He turned and picked his goblet back up. “I have spoken.”
Isabel lost her patience. “Indeed you have, Lord de Segrave, but that does not mean I shall meekly obey you. One of the reasons I have declined to wed you is that I have no desire to be submissive.”
“Ahh…” He chuckled. “I have noticed you play the game of meekness when it suits you and only when you have something to gain from doing so.”
She felt her breath lodged in her throat. “That is insulting of you to say,” she sputtered at last.
He watched her over the rim of his goblet, his eyes full of some emotion that looked very much like enjoyment. “I mean it as a compliment, Isabel. I enjoy the vixen in you.” He used her name deliberately, drawing it out in his deep voice. His gaze traveled over her hair. “You are too young for a widow’s wimple.”
“Yet I am a widow, and your eyes are too bold by far.” Her hands settled on her hips. “A true knight does not leer at a lady.”
One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Ah…but a lady does not look at a man’s form, even if he stands in front of her.” He set the goblet aside. “Yet you looked, and I daresay you were pleased at the sight.”
“You dare too much.” He was also too correct for her comfort. “It seems you have honor only when it suits your purpose.”
His eyes flashed with warning. Isabel stepped back, but it was too late.
“As I warned you, question my honor and I shall be happy to show you how I deal with a vixen.”
“I am not a vixen,” she said. “Go back to the hall if that is the sort of entertainment you seek.”
She stopped, but he remained in place, watching her from beneath lowered brows. “To the women you set upon me?”
The judgment in his tone was impossible to hide from. What she had done was questionable at best. Less than honorable at worst. But she wasn’t repentant. She squared off with him.
“It was no worse than you hauling me across your saddle for the entertainment of all.”
“It was,” he agreed.
His expression should have filled her with foreboding. Instead she discovered herself pleased to have landed a blow worthy of gaining an admission from him.
Isabel lifted her chin, victory warming her. “If you seek some sort of apology, you shall not hear it. You had no right to treat me as you did, or to kiss me.”
A warning flashed in his eyes. “What I seek is the ability to keep you from retiring after delivering your last blow. When you start a competition with me, be prepared for me to battle until the bitter end.” He closed the distance between them once more and she winced as she heard each soft footfall. “And you enjoy my kisses.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to deny his statement but the glitter in his eyes warned her against it. He wanted a fight with her, for it would lead to passion. She drew in a deep breath and searched her mind for logical arguments. She was far too conscious of the bed so close behind her.
You want to stroke his skin again…
“I have nothing to assure me the king in fact blessed you with permission to marry me.”
He chuckled. She retreated from the look that entered his eyes; a shiver shot down her back from the unmistakable glitter of anticipation in those dark orbs.
“If you fail to respect my honor as a knight by doubting my word—”
“I did not say I doubted your honor,” she interrupted. Mildred would have been horrified.
“You accused me of not telling the truth about the king’s blessing upon our match.” His eyes flashed with unmistakable challenge. “Vixen.”
He loomed over her, closing the last pace between them. Her heart was suddenly beating faster and harder. Her breathing deepened, drawing in the scent of his skin. A strange awareness of him flooded her. She noticed the scent of his skin and heard the slight rasp of his breath. Every one of her senses was keener and more attuned to him, her skin feeling more sensitive, as though the most delicate touch might startle her.
Anticipation was driving her mad.
“With you, there is part of me that enjoys dispensing with chivalry.” His eyes darkened and slid down the length of her body. She gasped and sensation twisted through her while he lingered over her curves.
Part of her enjoyed the look on his face. There was no way to ignore the fact that she liked him appreciating her form. It was something no polished words might truly convey.
Excitement ignited inside her.
But she could never admit it.
Never indulge it.
Unless she wanted to accept everything that came with it. It would be nothing sort of complete surrender.
“The chivalric code maintains civilized behavior.” She didn’t care for how disappointed she sounded. Or wounded.
He chuckled again, low and deep, and the sound triggered a new wave of emotion that washed down her body. This time she felt it rippling across her skin, and she stood frozen in place as he reached out to stroke the side of her face.
“Yet you sound so…torn.”
She jerked; it was overwhelming and she couldn’t remain still. Isabel drew in a stiff breath and stepped back only to collide with the bed.
“I am. Yet I am also resolved.” She tried to make her tone smooth, but it betrayed her with a high pitch.
“I disagree, Isabel.” He stepped toward her and she felt his heat radiating out from his body. “I would test your resolve to remain uninterested in sharing a marriage bed with me.”
“It is merely lust. When you depart, it will subside.” She shouldn’t have said such a thing; it wasn’t a topic any lady discussed, but her mind wasn’t working properly. In truth, she felt more like the vixen he called her. A creature responding to her instincts instead of logic.
And he was once more someone she had a great deal in common with. Formality was slipping away so easily, making it feel so natural to speak her mind with him.
To share her secrets.
“Lust has its place in passion.” His tone was pure temptation. Ramon lifted his hand once more, this time cupping the entire side of her face. She shivered, her body responding instantly to his touch. “And passion was clearly missing in your last union, which makes it difficult for you to trust my word. I am happy to pr
ove my worth.”
His hand smoothed along her jawline and down the length of her neck. She wanted to let her eyes shut and be immersed in the sensation.
“Such would be…sinful.”
She tried to hide how much she was enjoying it.
How much she wanted to rise to his bait.
He leaned down and his breath teased against her ear. “I am being truthful. Isn’t that more honorable than any words I was taught to speak because of chivalry? Shall I rattle on about how virtuous you are when in fact I am consumed by how much I enjoy your spirit? Which pleases you more?”
She shivered, blushing and enjoying his praise. She had never been the fairest. Every maid she’d set on him at supper was more comely. Yet when he pulled back, his gaze was full of desire for her.
His hand glided over her collarbone and onto her chest. Sensation raced downward and she felt her breasts tingling with anticipation. Her flesh was eagerly clamoring for his hand to proceed downward, begging for a caress. Behind the thin fabric of her under robe, her nipples drew into hard peaks that raised the fabric.
“Ah…” He groaned softly against her ear. “Unmistakable proof that your body is pleased.”
“It must be…wrong…somehow…” But she was suddenly unsure as to why it mattered at all.
He moved his hand back up, smoothing along her neck, and disappointment coursed through her. Her breast craved his touch and her nipple ached from being denied.
He cupped her chin and raised her face.
“Your honesty pleases me, Isabel. More than any polite, simpering reply every could.”
His lips pressed against the side of her neck, drawing a cry from her lips. She wasn’t sure what the sound meant, only that she was powerless to contain it. Her mind was struggling to sort all of her thoughts into logical order and failing miserably. Impulses began to rule her. She lifted her hands to push against his chest, only to discover she liked the way he felt. She spread her fingers over the hard ridges of muscle that lay beneath the single layer of his tunic.
His lips pressed a trail of kisses along her neck, and she lifted her head so he might continue. Pleasure bloomed under each kiss, her legs quivering with delight. Her nipples hardened even more and she leaned toward him, seeking out his embrace.
He cupped her cheeks and this time, when his mouth found hers, she was eager for his kiss, her lips parting beneath the pressure from his and returning the motions. She expected him to take what she surrendered and enjoy his victory immediately. But he lingered over her mouth, tasting her lips with delicate motions, in no hurry to raise her chemise.
Yet she felt impatience brewing deep in her belly.
The tip of his tongue swept along her lower lip, sending sweet delight through her. His hands glided down her neck, unleashing gooseflesh as they traveled to her collarbone and then down onto her chest. The breath froze in her lungs as her breasts tingled with excitement. Once again, he didn’t rush but smoothed his open palms over her shoulders in small circles before beginning to trace a path down toward her more delicate flesh. Isabel discovered her back arching, lifting her chest up so her breasts might receive what they craved.
Ramon didn’t disappoint her. He brushed his thumbs across the puckered peaks of her nipples in a touch that was almost too soft to feel.
A sigh surfaced from her chest, and he took advantage of her open mouth, his tongue gently probing inside until he touched her own. At the same time his hands closed around her breasts, cupping each tender globe gently. A jolt went through her, traveling down to her belly where it twisted and turned so violently she recoiled.
It was too much.
She pushed at him, shoving him back so that their kiss was broken. Her senses cleared enough for her to slip along the smooth surface of the wall, and she heard him snarl when he ended up facing the gray stones instead of her.
“I prefer…” Her lungs labored to draw in breath to supply her racing heart. “I prefer the Code of Chivalry between us in place of this…savageness.”
Ramon muttered something profane. His voice was edged with the same disappointment that was racing through her. It was sharp and harsh, making her want to flinch. Confusion flooded her. She had always been relieved to be free from her husband’s embrace.
“There was nothing savage between us.” His eyes narrowed but she didn’t lower her chin.
“Savage in the way that it prevents me from controlling my response. Your touch unleashes a wildness in me. I cannot control it.” She was confessing, pleading with him to not exploit her weakness.
His face flushed but his eyes narrowed with satisfaction. It was a frank, male sort of pleasure, one that made her feel like she’d witnessed some sort of secret that life had hidden from her until now.
It was fascinating and so very tempting. She teetered on the edge of reason, ready to deny her doubts and embrace the churning storm his touch unleashed.
He reached for her but she put her hand into his, blocking his advance. It was a feeble attempt to hold back someone as powerful as he was, but he drew in a stiff breath and stopped.
His lips lifted for a moment into a grin that transformed his face into something very charming indeed.
“I will earn your trust.”
Heat surfaced in her cheeks and the reaction irritated her. How could she blush now when the man had been handling her breasts but a moment past?
Because he touched your tender feelings with his words…
Such was more terrifying than having the man claim her body, for her feelings were the only thing she might keep for herself.
“Dawn will arrive early, with a great many tasks,” she said.
She turned her back on him but discovered that resisting the urge to look over her shoulder at him was almost too strong to ignore. Isabel forced herself to walk away from him and not check to see what he was about. They would observe the rules of chivalry; she demanded that of herself. The alternative was too uncertain to contemplate.
His sword still lay in the center of her bed. She shuddered at the sight of it but forced herself to reach for the bedding and lift it so she might lie down. She tried hard not to look at him. She kept her eyes on the canopy that stretched over the top of the bed to keep the heat inside.
She strained to hear him approaching the bed, flinching when she detected a single soft step. A soft chuckle followed.
“What worries you, lady?”
What indeed?
Heat was still curling through her.
The bed shook and the ropes groaned as he sat down.
“That is obvious, my lord. I have never had a man in this chamber.”
The sword between them moved toward her because the baron took up more than half the bed. He pulled the bedding up and over his shoulders, and the sword slid onto her chest.
“It is obvious, I agree. Yet we will not become more familiar to one another if we are separated by stone walls.”
She lost the resolve to keep her attention from him, turning her head and smacking her chin on the pommel of his sword. He moved quickly, lifting the weapon up and away from her before she finished sucking in a harsh breath.
“Sleeping with a sword between us sounds all well and good until we must actually do it.” He sat up and sheathed the sword before leaning it against the wall near his pillow. “In a bed this small.”
Isabel held the bedding against her body, grateful to have something to hide her hard, pebbled nipples.
“This bed is quite sufficient for my needs.”
He turned to her and the ropes groaned ominously. He placed his elbow against the bed and cradled his head in his hand. Heat licked its way down her body, making the thick coverlet too warm. He was far too attractive.
“Sufficient?” His eyes narrowed as he considered her lips once again. The delicate skin tingled with the memory of how much
she had enjoyed his kiss. “Ah…but I would see that you find this bed pleasing instead of merely sufficient. Dare I suggest you find true ecstasy? Whereas you have always settled for merely sufficient?”
She laughed. Scoffed, really. The sound resulted from memories of her husband’s boasting whenever he had decided to partake of his marital privileges.
The baron frowned, his eyes opening wider. Isabel sobered and discovered her eyelashes fluttering to conceal her emotions from his keen gaze.
“I’ll bid you a restful sleep, Lord de Segrave.”
She closed her eyes but jerked them wide again when she felt his fingers gliding softly across her cheek. She quivered, becoming irritated by how much she enjoyed his touch, unable to stop the soft sigh that escaped her lips.
The sound pleased him. She saw it in his eyes.
“There can be much pleasure between a man and wife. Your husband was a selfish man for not demonstrating such to you.” His tone was soft and serious, tempting her.
Lust truly was a destructive force.
She had to resist its pull.
Because it would lead her to hell…on earth. Only courting was sweet, and so vastly different from what marriage would allow Ramon to demand of her.
That reality of marriage would be a bitter duty. She knew it well. Somehow, she had to ignore her emotions, which were willing to lead her astray.
* * *
Jacques Raeburn sat on his horse, watching Ramon de Segrave’s men. They were camped in perfect position to defend themselves, but there was no sign of Ramon’s tent. His banner was not flying anywhere in the camp, which meant he’d taken possession of a bedchamber.
“We are not riding up to the keep, my lord?” Jacques’s lieutenant asked.
Jacques Raeburn shook his head.
A woman left alone was easy prey for a man. How irritating that the king had made it possible for Ramon to make it to Thistle Keep ahead of him.
It was his duty to marry Isabel and regain the land his brother had left her. Jacques felt his mood darkening as he thought about being saddled with a wife who had failed to give his brother an heir.