by Mary Wine
She craved his embrace and it brought her more solace, more comfort than she had ever believed possible.
So she’d be content and not seek vengeance. She’d find a way to make him see the sense in leaving Jacques be.
* * *
“Thanks be to Christ and all his angels!” Mildred was fluttering around them when they made it back to Thistle Keep. The hall was still lit; those who should have been sleeping on its floor were wide awake. They muttered their thanks but Ramon kept her moving toward the stairs and up to her chamber.
“You disobeyed me, lady.”
She turned and faced him as he sent the door closed and propped his hands on his hips.
“It was not my intention. Truly, I took Griffin to hunt as I always do. If I do not, the rats will…will take the goose eggs.”
Ramon pulled his gauntlets off and tossed them on the table. But he nodded once and fought to rein in his temper. “You should have taken an escort.”
He was right. She knew it but still felt as though her life was crumbling. Ramon snorted at the look on her face.
“Do you dare to tell me I am wrong?” he demanded softly. “That my words have no merit?”
He pointed at the polished tin on the wall. “Look at the way your face is darkened and the bindings still on your wrists. Dare to tell me there was not valid reason for me to tell you to stay near the keep or travel with an escort.”
“I do not mean to say…” Her teeth were chattering as though she was freezing, but the chamber was pleasantly warm. She tried to tug the rabbit skin strips from one wrist, but her fingers were shaking too badly to grasp them.
Ramon muttered something and swept her off her feet. His body was warm and his scent teased her senses again, bringing her peace. He carried her to the bed and settled her there. He pulled the bedding up to her chin and smoothed it in place before pulling his hand back and hooking it onto his belt. The look on his face was sculpted from stone, but what shamed her was the concern in his eyes.
“You were right,” she admitted softly. “Honestly, I meant no rebellion against you by taking Griffin out this morning. ’Tis my habit to do so every day. To protect the nests. The feathers are how we pay the taxes. We’d not have enough food without them.”
He drew in a deep breath, fighting his temper, and settled for working the rabbit skin strips loose from one wrist and then the other.
“I have never lived in a world where I must fear walking on my own land,” she offered. “I am not sure I wish to.”
“You have simply blinded yourself to the dangers.”
She stiffened. “Even if I am guilty of such, is it not better than living like a frightened mouse? I had to step up and run Thistle Keep.”
He drew in a deep breath. “Aye, and you rose to the challenge well. Yet it is time for both of us to change.” The bed ropes groaned as he sat beside her. “I cannot recall living anywhere but by my king’s side on the Crusade. Yet I am here, in a place where I might consider having a family instead of only a king’s demands to serve.”
For a moment, he almost looked as uncertain as she felt. It was there in his dark eyes, a flicker of need, a need for understanding. A need to not be alone.
She knew that feeling well.
“I am glad you are here, and I do not want you to go seeking vengeance.”
His expression tightened. “As a baron, I am the only one who can challenge Jacques.”
“And yet, as a baron, you are duty bound to take your grievance to the barons’ council for judgment,” she reminded him. “Or risk breaking the law you are sworn to uphold.”
“The barons do not meet until next spring.” He smoothed the hair away from her bruised face. “Far too much mercy for that dog.”
“And yet, if you go after him, you lower yourself to his level.”
“That is harsh of you to say, Isabel.” His tone was sharp and his eyes hardening. She could see him tightening his resolve, making his decision.
“I will not be the only one saying it,” she argued. “You know I am correct. There are barons who are friends of the Raeburn family. They will try to discredit you in the hope a baron’s title will become vacant for another of their kin. You must wait until the council meets. Besides, he did not gain what he sought. Is that not the most important fact?”
His eyes narrowed, warning her that he was going to shred her argument.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. It was a tender touch, innocent but seeking. Hooking her hands onto his shoulders, she pulled him closer and opened her mouth as he tried to pull away.
She held him, kissing him with all the desperation brewing inside her to keep him from his destruction.
There was a soft pressure and the slide of his mouth against hers as he gave in. She tilted her head so that their lips fit together more perfectly. He cradled her head, taking control of the kiss.
It wasn’t the hot, searing kiss he had pressed on her the night before. This was something else entirely. It was sanctuary. A safe haven from the evil trying to tear at her. He closed his arms around her, taking command of the kiss but not changing the tone. It continued as a seeking touch, an exploration, a tasting.
She slid down into his embrace, content to be pressed against his chest as she surrendered to the darkness. The sound of his heart was more comforting than anything she had ever heard.
* * *
Ambrose was waiting up.
Ramon knew that he as well as his men would be. The hall was silent for so many filling it. They watched him as he climbed to the high table and turned to look at them.
“Seek your beds. Our duty is finished for the night.”
There were frowns but also nods of obedience. The hall filled with the echoes of footsteps as his men departed.
Ambrose was not so easily dismissed. “You plan to allow that cur to see dawn?”
“The lady is recovered.”
“You are no more satisfied with that than I am,” Ambrose said curtly.
Ramon nodded. “Yet Richard warned me that it would be a greater challenge not to draw my sword. I see what he meant now. I will bring the matter before the barons’ council.”
“Piss on that,” Ambrose declared.
“Yet it is the law, and what are men without law but beasts?”
Ambrose closed his mouth, defiance flickering in his eyes. Ramon felt the same but forced himself to climb back up to the chamber Isabel was sleeping in.
Solace came in the form of her sweet scent in the air, the soft sound of her breath, and the warmth from her body as he slid back into the bed with her.
It was solace, and yet his thirst for vengeance raged.
But his need for her was greater. He would be content that she was correct. Jacques had a powerful family. They would do everything they could to unseat Ramon if he gave them even a bit of incentive. The law was clear. Barons ruled over barons. To fight another baron was to risk losing his title and right to his army.
But most importantly, he would lose his ability to protect Thistle Keep.
So he would wait.
* * *
Jacques roared and his men jumped. They knew from bitter experience that he would happily make someone pay for his displeasure if possible.
His squire was the unfortunate one today. He backhanded the youth, sending him rolling. The boy gained his feet quickly, wiping away a trickle of blood with his sleeve.
“You left a knife in my tent and she is gone!”
The squire offered no excuse. The men watching judged him wise, for Jacques wasn’t known for his tolerance.
“Find a way into their confidence.”
The squire blinked. “My lord?”
“Take off my colors.”
His men stiffened.
“If you ever want to wear them again,
get yourself taken in at Thistle Keep. I want to know everything Ramon de Segrave is doing. Everything my bride-to-be is doing.”
Five
Ramon was gone in the morning.
Of course, it was because she’d slept long past sunrise. Isabel yawned and fought the urge to close her eyes again. She was weary, embarrassingly so, considering how long she had been in bed. Still, waking up wasn’t simple. Her belly rumbled and she fought her way past the clouds of fatigue pressing her down. With a soft moan, she rolled over and sat up.
The moment she did, her eyes widened as pain went shooting through her. It raced along her side and through her belly, and a groan got past her lips before she clamped her mouth shut.
Being handled roughly did not agree with her, it seemed.
As if it would agree with anyone…
She shuddered; moving across more than just her skin, it felt as though it were soul deep. Her mouth went dry at the memory of Jacques’s eyes when he’d looked at her.
The man was a demon.
No, she wouldn’t give him that sort of hold over her. He was just a man. A bad one, but flesh nonetheless.
She shrugged into her over robe and combed out her hair. A sense of urgency was making her clumsy and the comb clattered to the stone floor.
There was a rap on the door before the small window set into it slid open.
“I will send your nurse up, lady.”
Isabel jumped but the man wasn’t looking into the chamber. She caught only a glimpse of the back of his head before the window slid back into place.
There was someone guarding her door?
It prickled her pride. Yet, at the same time, she would be lying if she didn’t admit that knowing the man was there calmed her.
She snorted as she picked up the comb.
She would not turn into a mouse, frightened of the world because of some misfortune. It was hardly the first time fate had delivered a blow that sent her reeling.
“Look at you…” Mildred said as she entered the chamber. “You should be in bed…what with the ordeal you’ve been through.”
“I have wasted enough daylight today,” Isabel said firmly. “Yet I am glad to have you here to tie my laces.”
She turned around so Mildred could secure her over gown, but her nurse was moving to the large chest sitting against the wall.
“You’ll be wanting something finer for your wedding.”
Mildred fit one of the large keys hanging from her girdle into the lock on the chest. It groaned when she turned it; the chest hadn’t been opened for a long time.
“I do not need any finery. There is not going to be a wedding.” Isabel wasn’t certain she thought about the words before they crossed her lips. A shudder shook her again and she was very sure that she wanted nothing to do with being bound to a man in the eyes of the church.
“I would like to know the reason,” Mildred declared as she turned and propped her hands on her hips.
“As would I.”
Awareness rippled through her as Ramon’s voice filled the chamber. His tone was low and tightly controlled. She turned to face him as he lifted his hand and gestured Mildred toward the door.
“Your mistress and I have important matters to discuss.”
Mildred started toward the door with a firm expression of agreement on her face.
“Wait… I need to be laced.”
“You slept in my embrace, Isabel. I am well aware of your body.”
She sucked in a harsh, shocked breath. She looked back at Mildred, beseeching her to remain, but her nurse paused in the doorway and sent her a stern look.
“’Tis best you come to an agreement,” Mildred said with a clear tone of expectation. She turned and the man guarding the door shut it.
“That was harshly spoken,” Isabel reprimanded. “More so than necessary, I think.”
“Not so if you intend to persist in your stubborn desire not to wed.”
Ramon was standing near the door. The sight of him sent a curl of heat through her belly.
Sweet Mother of Christ! What would it take to end her lusting for the man?
Her cheeks burned scarlet when she answered her own question.
Ramon’s dark gaze narrowed. “You blush for me, Isabel.”
“I know,” she conceded. She turned and walked away from him, feeling him too keenly.
He followed her, his steps slow and measured. “And you sought my embrace for solace and comfort.” He stepped to the side, blocking her path when she tried to go around him. “And I enjoyed having you against me.”
Her breath froze, her heart hammered inside her chest. His dark eyes were lit with determination and it stroked something inside her that felt very much like enjoyment. She had never felt so desired by a man before.
“Jacques Raeburn bought himself a baron’s title. He will not be content with your escape. Voice your objections to our match. We must come to an agreement.” The glint in his eyes was a warning one. He was not in the mood to be bested by her.
“He bought it?” She shook her head with distaste.
“Aye.” Ramon’s tone matched hers. “His men are brutal and often more like villains than Crusaders. But Richard cannot Crusade without gold. There are a great many sins that can be forgiven when money is being provided to keep the Crusades going. Thistle Keep is the next prize Jacques plans to add to his coffers. Why will you not wed me?”
“I have had a belly full of being a possession. A wife is the property of her husband. I would simply stay…free.” She should have been more cautious and held her tongue but with Ramon, self-control seemed nearly impossible. His eyes narrowed and guilt chewed on her. “You are right to think me harsh. Yet I cannot reconcile myself to wedding.”
He closed the remaining distance between them. “You are drawn to me.”
She shifted, overwhelmed by the way he saw through her. Her cheeks stung once more and her lips tingled with anticipation.
Drawn?…she craved him.
He chuckled and stroked one scarlet cheek. “There is but one way for this passion to cool, Isabel. I would wed you first. So neither of us need feel shamed by our passions.”
“You honor me…” But she shifted away, feeling trapped.
“Yet you do not trust me not to turn mean once the vows are consummated.” He wasn’t asking her. She turned and discovered him watching her with a knowing look on his face.
“I know you feel it an insult for me to think such a thing, yet would you have me lie to you? I am being herded into this by fate and unkind circumstance.”
She was being bold and probably foolish for voicing her emotions. He was still strong, both in body and in the army he commanded. Many would advise her to make the best of her position.
To do so would allow her to indulge her cravings for him.
But to what end?
She honestly didn’t know.
“I would have you trust me,” Ramon said.
A memory surfaced.
“Do you trust me not to cuckold you as your first wife did?” she asked. “Or shall your man be posted to guard over me?”
Ramon drew in a sharp breath. “You are combining two issues to make your point. My man is posted because you disobeyed me and left the keep without an escort. Argue against the need and I will tell you to look at the scabs around your wrists.”
She looked down, unable to avoid looking at the dried blood on her wrists. Dark bruises decorated her forearms as well. She pressed her lips into a hard line of frustration.
“I have known you for only a short time. Why must you press me for vows? Can we not…court?”
“We are past the age of courting,” Ramon grunted. “I fight to keep my hands from you, more so because I see desire in your eyes to touch me back. I have never faltered, yet you test my devotion to not ta
ke you to my bed until our union is blessed.”
That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.
“You look surprised,” he said.
“I am,” she answered.
“You doubt your own appeal?”
She shook her head. “I am surprised how differently your admission makes me feel than Jacques’s.”
Like night and day.
One made her flesh crawl, the other set her heart racing.
His lips twitched into a wolfish grin. He leaned forward and hooked his arm around her, pulling her into his embrace in a swift motion that left her breathless. She flattened her hands against his chest, feeling his hardened flesh. The faint vibration of his heartbeat teased her fingertips.
She didn’t want to resist. “You test me, it’s true, and I find it most pleasing.”
His expression became one of wonder. For a moment, it was as though she were seeing something that he hid from everyone else. It felt…intimate. Like a part of himself that he never showed because he couldn’t appear needy.
She wanted to kiss him, the way Rauxana had kissed Jacques.
Ramon leaned down to press his lips against hers, cupping her nape, but Isabel smoothed her hands down his chest, stunning him. He hesitated for a moment, watching her. Something stirred inside her, a sensation she wasn’t sure she understood.
But she liked it.
She stroked her way back to the center of his chest, shivering as her fingertips registered how hard his body was beneath his tunic. Ramon closed his eyes to slits, a rumble escaping his lips.
This time, the sensation was strong and it filled her with confidence. She smoothed her hand up to where his tunic ended and she was able to stroke his bare skin. He stiffened but lifted his chin so that she might trail her fingers along the firm column of his throat. His skin was smooth, and beneath it more firm muscle.
A pulse began to throb between her thighs, but this time she welcomed it because it only added to the passion sweeping her into something she craved.
Might it be ecstasy?
She didn’t know what that was, but she couldn’t stop.
Wouldn’t stop.