“Come inside,” he told Winter, entering his room and dragging her with him.
“I really should be going,” she protested.
“Nay, you’ll be going nowhere.” He closed and barred the door. “We had plans tonight, or did you forget?”
Her eyes flashed over to the bed and then the walls with the erotic paintings. Her tongue shot out to lick her lips. “I told you, I won’t do . . . that . . . with you again.”
“That?” He chuckled and walked over to a table he had set up next to his bed with a goblet and decanter of wine. He poured a cup and handed it to her. “You sound as if you are reluctant to say what that is. It’s called making love – or coupling – or crying out in euphoric passion.”
Her eyes closed and she held her breath. Martin could see her inner struggle starting to take hold of her. Then she opened her eyes, grabbed the wine and chugged it down.
“Slow down, my little wildcat,” he said with a chuckle, gently running his hand down her neck and chest, letting the tip of his finger trail in between her breasts before turning and walking over to the bed. “After all, we don’t want you wearing yourself out before we get to what I wanted you to experience tonight.” He kicked off his boots and yanked his tunic over his head, noticing how her eyes didn’t leave him for one minute. Her bright green orbs drank in his every move.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her curious nature being her flaw.
“Didn’t you want to experience more of . . . that?” He put his hand out to encompass the erotic paintings all around the bed.
“Is there . . . more?” She took a few steps toward the bed. A smile spread across his face as he realized she’d taken the bait and he was reeling her in.
“There is. Lots more, I promise. And I’m going to make sure you experience every way possible to couple with a man before you leave my castle. You’ll scream out in passion, begging me to take you every minute of the day before I’m through with you.”
Her eyes shot over to the wall and a blush rose to her cheeks. Was she honestly considering taking him up on his suggestion? If so, she was weaker than he’d expected. But then she clutched her neckline and shook her head.
“Nay. I can’t couple with you. I have to leave.”
“You’ll stay,” he told her. “I’m your lord and you are naught but a mere tradesman’s daughter. You cannot deny my command since I’m a noble. I’m surprised I need to remind you of that. Now, take off your clothes and get in bed.” He patted the bed next to him, playing his little game of cat and mouse.
Winter felt a heat between her legs as she drank in the glorious sight of Martin lounging on the bed. His naked chest glistened in the light of the candles burning all around them. The room smelled like roses and cinnamon from the scented beeswax. It made her heady. In the shadows dancing on the walls, she glanced, once more, at the naked people making love, wondering just how many more ways there was to do it. She felt herself getting excited again and that wasn’t good. If she didn’t leave now, she’d be tempted to stay. Struggling with her inner turmoil, she forced herself to turn and run toward the door.
Before she could get to it, Martin jumped off the bed and darted after her. Scooping her up in his arms, he kissed her deeply. All her resolve left when his soft lips touched hers, causing her body to tremble. With one kiss from the dark, dangerous and handsome warlord, she had lost all control.
“You want to do it, just admit it.”
“I do,” she said, closing her eyes as he kissed her again. He put her down and pulled her against his erection, almost making her cry out. Then he took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his engorged form, holding her hand tightly so she couldn’t let go.
“Are you ready?” he whispered, his tongue shooting out and about making her jump out of her skin when it entered the canal of her ear. “Do you want to scream out in passion as you reach that place that makes you feel randy and yet fulfilled at the same time?”
She felt his manhood throbbing against her palm. All she could think about was how it would feel inside her.
“I do,” she said, breathing heavily, feeling so hot she would pull off her own clothes if he didn’t do it soon. She couldn’t help herself. Lord Martin de Grey had shown her pleasures that made her crave for more. Never before had she wanted something so desperately as making love to him right now. Anticipation surged through her. If he didn’t take her soon, she was going to be driven mad with want.
“Say it,” he teased her, making her squirm. “Tell me you want me and will do anything to spend more time in my bed.”
“I want you,” she said, no longer able to lie. “Take me, Martin. Please.”
And just when she thought he was going to rip off her clothes or take her to his bed, he released her hand and stepped away.
“Nay.” He picked up his tunic and donned it, putting on clothes instead of taking them off. She didn’t understand it at all.
“Nay?” she asked. “But I thought -”
“Well, you were wrong. Now please leave my chamber, because I can’t make love to you ever again.” He slid the bar hold from the door and opened it, waiting for her to leave.
Tears filled her eyes. He was playing with her, repeating the words she’d told him yesterday. She didn’t like this and wanted no part of his wicked games. Turning on her heel, she fled the room. Total understanding hit her hard when she heard him call after her as she headed down the corridor.
“Goodnight, Lady Winter. Sweet dreams, my little wildcat.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, her body going stiff with fright. “You knew!”
“I didn’t at first but, as of today, I do. Do not ever think to deceive me again because, next time, I won’t just let you walk away.” With that, he disappeared into his bedchamber, slamming the door, leaving her feeling rejected and frightened. Servants poked their heads out of dark alcoves to see what was happening. Wrapping her arms around herself, her body now shivered in the cold. It was as if he’d ravished her, though he’d barely even touched her. It was her weakness and desire for him that put her in this position. He knew how she felt and he used it to his advantage, playing his silly, little game. She avoided eye contact with the servants and rushed to her bedchamber, feeling like a strumpet instead of a noblewoman. No one would respect her from now on, and she wasn’t even sure if she would be able to respect herself.
Chapter 10
“Father, what are you doing here?” Martin asked the next morning when he woke up to find the man standing in his bedchamber. Rock rushed in, hurrying over to join them.
“I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t see him leave the great hall. I’ll remove him immediately.” Rock reached out for Lambert, but the man slapped his hand away.
“Don’t touch me, Squire, unless you want to lose a limb.” Lambert reached for his sword, but his hand came up empty. “Where is my sword?” In confusion, he looked around the room. Spying Martin’s sword, he headed for it. “Oh, there it is.”
“Nay!” Martin jumped from the bed and made it to his weapon first, holding it out of his father’s reach. “This is my sword, Father. You don’t have one.”
“Why not?” asked the man, a perplexed crinkle forming at the center of his forehead.
“I’ve taken it away for your own safety,” Martin admitted. “I didn’t want you hurting yourself – or anyone else.”
“That’s preposterous!” Lambert cried out. “How will I protect your mother and sisters without a weapon? I demand you give it back to me.”
“They’re not coming back, so you don’t need to worry about it.” Martin tossed his weapon belt on the bed. “Squire, get me my clothes.”
“Aye, my lord.” Rock rushed over to a trunk and returned with clean clothes in his hands. Martin reached out and took them, dressing as he continued to talk.
“Father, you are addled. It is time I sent you to a priory to live. You will do me no good staying here.”
“I am not addled!” he spat.
“And I urge you to hold your tongue. You seem to think I know naught of what goes on at Castle Heaton but, I assure you, I do.”
Martin shook his head, not having time for this now. He needed to address the fact that Winter had deceived him, and he wasn’t even sure how to approach it. “You might know what the cooks are serving for dinner or how hot the fire is in the great hall, but nothing else. You live in a dream world, Father, and I cannot allow it anymore. You’ll be moved to Brinkburn Priory later today. I’m sorry, but it is for your own good.”
His father reached out for a chair and sank atop it. His eyes stared at nothing in particular. Martin finished dressing and donned his weapon belt and then gave a command to his squire.
“Rock, make sure my father’s things are packed. Take him to the priory after the main meal.”
“Aye, my lord,” said Rock, standing at Lambert’s side. Martin turned to exit the room but stopped in his tracks when he heard his father’s next words.
“You think I don’t know that you bedded the sister of the king’s bastards?”
“Where did you hear that?” he asked, not turning around when he spoke but, instead, looking at the floor.
“I knew from the moment she arrived with the blacksmith that she was a noblewoman in disguise. If you weren’t so ignorant, you would have noticed, too.”
“I am not ignorant!” He spun around, angry at his father’s accusation. “She deceived me. No one knew she was a noble. Had I known, I would never have taken her to my bed.”
“You should feel ashamed of yourself, Son,” his father continued. “The servants tell me you brought her to your bedchamber last night and that she left the room moments later, crying.”
“Which servants?” he asked. “I will make sure they have their tongues cut out for telling such lies.”
Rock cleared his throat. “Excuse me for saying this, my lord, but I, too, heard your little quarrel with Lady Winter last evening. I think the entire castle saw and heard what happened.”
“All right, so it’s true,” he growled. “I did take her to my bedchamber, but only to teach her a lesson. She deceived me and needs to be punished.”
“Isn’t she the one making your highly-coveted Damascus sword?” asked Lambert. “How will it ever be finished if she’s locked away in the dungeon?”
“Damn, that’s right,” said Martin, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “Mayhap, I’ll keep her around until the sword is finished.”
“I cannot believe you.” His father sprang to his feet. “Don’t you feel even a little bad for what you did to Lady Winter?”
“What I did?” His eyes opened wide as he thumped his palm against his chest. “What about what she did to me? I cannot let what happened between us go unaddressed.”
“Then do what any knight worth his salt would do,” said her father. “Marry the girl and make her your wife.”
“Marry her?” Martin half-laughed, not sure if his father was more addled than he thought or perhaps a genius.
“Aye, that would solve the problem,” said Rock. “Then her brothers and father won’t come after you when they learn you took her virginity.”
“God’s eyes, does everyone know that, too?” Martin clenched his hands into fists and walked over to the open window for some air.
“The chambermaid saw the blood on the sheets,” Rock told him. “She told the kitchen maid who told the alewives who told the stableboy. That’s where I heard it.”
“Enough!” shouted Martin, looking out the window. He spotted Lady Winter crossing the courtyard, still dressed in her peasant’s attire and heading for the smithy. Her long, black hair was woven into a braid that hung down her back. Now that he knew who she really was, he did feel foolish for not noticing it sooner, as his father said.
She glided across the cobbled stones with her spine straight and her head held high. Just the way a noble would walk. The scent of rosewater had drifted from her pale, soft skin. Her teeth were white and straight as well. Bid the devil, why hadn’t he seen all the signs? Hadn’t she also slipped up several times by calling Wallace by his first name instead of calling him Father?
Winter told him she had three brothers and that she was a lady. He’d only thought she was role-playing in the bedchamber. Damn her for not telling him the truth before lust had filled his head and he couldn’t think straight.
Andromeda landed on a post outside the blacksmith shop. Winter noticed and stopped, seeming to be talking to the bird. Reaching out, she ran her hand over the feathers atop the bird’s head.
How could he have ever thought she was weak and afraid? After all, she was touching his falcon after he’d warned her that the bird was dangerous. She was also headed to the forge – even after the way he’d treated her last night. Perhaps, he was the weak one, not her. He’d made a mistake whether he’d been deceived by her or not. His father was right. A good and loyal knight would remedy his shortcomings. How could Martin call himself a strong and respectable knight if he didn’t fix his mistakes? There was only one thing to do in this situation - accept the advice of a madman. It made him leery, but he had no other choice.
“All right. I’ll marry her,” he said, turning back to his squire and his father.
“You’re going to do what?” his squire’s voice squeaked in surprise.
“You were the one to tell me a minute ago that it was a good idea,” said Martin.
“That’s when I thought you’d never do it,” protested Rock. “I only agreed with your father so you wouldn’t send him away. I never thought you’d really marry her.”
“If he doesn’t marry her, no nobleman will ever want her,” remarked his father, all of a sudden sounding more like a wise man than a fool. “My son took her virginity. Every knight and lord of a castle wants a virgin to marry. It is his assurance he won’t end up with another man’s bastard. She’ll be sent to a convent now and shunned. If Martin doesn’t marry her, she’ll never have a husband or children.”
“I won’t let that happen,” said Martin, glancing out the window again. This time, Winter bent down, talking to a couple of children who were playing in the courtyard. His heart went out to her. She had told him she’d only deceived him to help the blacksmith and to forge his sword. Perhaps he was too hard on her. “I need to talk to Lady Winter.” In two strides, he was across the room and opening the door.
“My lord?” asked Rock. “Did you still want me to take your father to the priory?”
Martin’s throat tightened and he shook his head. His father had helped him see the answer to his problem. No matter how addled he was at times, today, he’d sounded like the man Martin once admired and respected with all his heart and soul.
“Nay. My father will continue to live at Castle Heaton,” he told Rock.
“Thank you, my son,” said Lambert with a smile that spread from ear to ear. “That way, I’ll be here when your mother returns with your sisters.”
Martin groaned and headed out the door, wondering if he should be listening to a madman after all.
* * *
“Lady Winter, I am worried about my son,” Wallace told Winter as soon as she’d entered the blacksmith’s shop that morning. “We’ve been here for several days now and, still, I don’t know where Lord de Grey is keeping Josef. For all I know, he could have already killed my boy.”
“Now, Wallace, I don’t think you should worry.” Winter picked up the sword she’d been making and squinted one eye, peering down the edge of the blade, checking for warps. “I’m sure if Lord de Grey had an agreement he made with the old Lord Ravenscar, then your son is fine. Even if the man is self-absorbed, deceitful, and no-good when it comes to women.”
“Who are you calling self-absorbed, deceitful and no-good?” asked Martin, walking quietly into the shop with his squire right behind him. By the rood, didn’t that man ever make any noise? Once again, she hadn’t heard him coming.
Instead of answering, she turned and picked up his poker and ha
nded it to him. “Here is your poker, all fixed. Isn’t that what you came for?”
He nodded to his squire. “Take the poker back to my chamber, Squire. Blacksmith, I’ll have to ask you to leave. I’d like to talk to Lady Winter alone.”
“My lord, if you don’t mind me asking,” said Wallace, wringing his hands as he spoke. “I’d like to see my son, Josef.”
“Oh, that. Yes. Rock, be sure to take Wallace to the dungeon to see his son.”
“Aye, my lord,” answered Rock.
“The dungeon?” Winter cried out. “Please tell me this is only one of your little games and that you haven’t really been keeping Josef locked up for the past two months! He’s done nothing to deserve that kind of cruel treatment.”
“I’m not the one who plays games,” he snapped. “If I must remind you, you were the one to deceive me in the first place by telling me you were the blacksmith’s daughter.”
“I never told you any such thing.” She lifted her chin defiantly as she spoke. “You just assumed it.”
“Really. Then why have you been calling him Father?”
Her head lowered. She felt ashamed of what she had done. “Oh, all right, so I didn’t correct your mistake. But I only did it to help Wallace and Josef. You were so adamant about getting your sword.”
“Don’t make the sword; I don’t really care,” Martin told her, trying to sound nonchalant.
“What?” Her head snapped up, and bewilderment tainted her expression. He’d managed to shock her. “Then, what about Josef?” Her beautiful, green eyes darted over to Wallace and then back to him. “If I don’t finish your sword, will you set Wallace’s son free?”
“Please, my lord,” begged Wallace. “He is the only son I have. I beg you to let him come back to me.”
Something about Wallace reminded Martin of his father. And when Wallace begged to be reunited with his son, Martin felt the stab to his heart that his father would never be together again with the woman he married, nor his daughters. If that could be changed, Martin would have gone to any extreme to make it happen. No one should feel the loss of one they loved.
Winter's Flame (Seasons of Fortitude Series Book 4) Page 9