Juliet Landon

by The Maiden's Abduction

  ‘So, you’ve come to me at last, have you, maid?’

  ‘Silas,’ she whispered. Her arms came up to reach for him as they had never done before, though yesterday they had come close and, as if he knew the significance of that simple act he slid his arms beneath her and pulled her across his lap, meeting her mouth with his and slaking a thirst that had grown more intense with each passing night.

  Tears welled up again. ‘I’m sorry, beloved. I let you down.’

  ‘You’ve been weeping? There’s no cause to weep, sweetheart.’

  ‘I was so glad to see you.’ She tasted his skin, took his ear and hair between her lips, breathing him in in deep lungfuls. But he caught them before they could stray further and kept them prisoner until he had taken his fill again, swinging her across the bed so that he could pull her under him as they had been on his narrow cabin bed. His fingers on her throat found the pearl pendant.

  ‘You said to bring it back.’ She smiled.

  ‘Wilful little baggage. But I have your measure now, my lass.’

  ‘And how much longer could you have waited, sir?’

  ‘Oh, I could easily have waited two more seconds.’

  She smiled. ‘Yet you returned to Goldenhand Street?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I’ve been here all the time. Popped in here a couple of times to watch you as you slept.’

  ‘Truly?’

  ‘Truly. You’d better start believing what I say. Why did you go to Hugo’s? Simply to thwart me?’

  ‘Yes. It was stupid of me. I wish I hadn’t. Cecily was furious. If I’d known…’ She turned her head away, recalling the scene and her acute discomfort.

  ‘If I’d known what I was going to see, I’d have arrived sooner.’

  ‘Those women, you mean?’

  ‘No, maid. You.’

  ‘Oh.’ She placed her hand over his mouth but he held it away and, lowering his head to her throat, teased the soft skin with his lips and tongue over the pale triangle made by her gown, deep into the place where her chemise called a halt. He had ventured so far only once before, when she had protested violently, hanging on to her virginity for dear life. But here, on this bed, it seemed only natural that he should taste what he had gazed upon with such obvious hunger. He reached her lips again and she felt the full weight of his body as he rolled her sideways, cradling her against his chest and rocking her, gently.

  ‘Nice,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘I’ve hung pearls on it, seen it, tasted it. Now, am I allowed to hold it?’ His lips kept hers well occupied while his hand searched the soft fabric of her bodice and, taking advantage of her raised arm that lay upon his shoulder, caressed in practised sweeps that quivered something low down within her. Then, giving her no time to consider, he held her arm away behind her back, slipping the gown off her shoulder as Hugo had done but this time releasing the full roundness of one beautiful breast to his waiting hand. He held it, tenderly, looking into her half-closed eyes for some reaction. ‘Well?’ he whispered. ‘You’re not going to fight me off, maid?’

  She made a sound in her throat that began as a word and ended as a sigh, and he knew that she could not answer him.

  ‘I want no one to see this other than me,’ he said. ‘This belongs to me. So, are we agreed on that now? At last?’

  She understood what he was asking of her. He had already said that she was his property, to her and to Bard, but lacking her agreement his assertions had had a one-sidedness that she knew would not satisfy him permanently. Her own attempts at independence had not been exactly successful, nor had they been aided by her bodily need of him, which now burned beyond her control. Was it time for her to yield, to give as well as to accept? She could not remain still under his searching hand. ‘Property?’ she whispered. ‘Your woman, or your lady?’

  Refusing to compromise, his reply was prompt. ‘All three. You are a hostage; that makes you my property while I hold you. And while I guard you against other claims you are my woman. When you become my consort, to be with me wherever I need you, then you will be my lady. You are intelligent and courageous and very fair, and I want you by my side and in my bed, Isolde. I have never asked as much of any other woman, nor have I ever taken any other woman against her will. But I took you because it was a chance I could not miss, and now I need your agreement before I proceed any further.’

  ‘You took me so that you could revenge yourself on my father and so that you could upset Master Fryde, didn’t you? Surely anything else takes second place to that?’

  His hand halted. ‘What makes you think I want to upset Master Fryde?’

  ‘I heard you and Bard talking out on the quay that evening.’

  He watched her eyes in silence, then said, ‘What else?’

  ‘That Dame Elizabeth must not know I’d been staying with him at York. So I took care not to tell her. Why, Silas? What has he done?’

  ‘We were talking about you, sweet maid. I’ll tell you some time about the other matter, but don’t think you can wriggle out of an answer by changing the subject. Well?’

  ‘As a hostage, I can understand being your property. Your woman, too, for that matter. But does a man like you take a lady to his bed and risk getting a child on her? And does an unmarried mother ever get the chance to marry decently after that? Or does she hide away in a convent, perhaps, and fade from memory? Yes, Silas Mariner, I am intelligent enough to have thought of that. I will be your woman and your lady because I cannot hold you off any longer; you must already know that. But I think I deserve some guarantee of a future, perhaps when all this bargaining is over and done with?’ She saw that she had struck a note of conscience, and waited for an answer while he restored the shoulder of her gown to its former position, arranging the neckline with careful fingers.

  ‘While you are a hostage, sweetheart,’ he said, rolling her back into his arms, ‘the position will be unpredictable, for your father could release Felicia at any time and oblige me to release you in turn. I would have to comply with that because that’s what I’ve agreed to do, though if you were to tell him that you prefer to stay with me, then that would change things. That would be something you, as a dutiful daughter, would have to agree with your father. He might forbid it.’

  ‘But what about…?’

  ‘Yes, I’m coming to that. I’m asking you to become my mistress because that’s the most dignified position I can offer you until the problem of ownership is settled. There’s nothing shameful about being a man’s mistress. Married, you cease to belong in law to your father, and then I lose my bargaining power, and that’s not the object of the exercise. The idea is to take something he holds dear and keep it until he returns what he holds of mine.

  ‘If you should have a child, sweetheart, that child will belong to me. It will be a La Vallon and your father may not have it, not for Felicia’s exchange nor for anything else.’

  ‘You believe he’d want it?’

  ‘Feather-headed woman!’ He kissed her nose. ‘Of course he’d want it. His first and only grandson? A young La Vallon being brought up in his household? Think how that’d rile my father, especially as it would be his only grandchild, too, by me, his eldest son. But it would not come to that. Any child I get on you belongs to me, and I should not return you then, Isolde. You’d have to stay, like it or not, and Felicia’s freedom will be out of the question.’

  ‘So your bargaining power, as you call it, would be my child.’

  ‘My child. Ours.’

  ‘And I’d still be your mistress.’

  ‘Mistress, wife, whatever you choose. You too become my property then, for all time.’

  ‘And you are proposing that I enter into that kind of agreement, knowing that such events might follow?’ She did her best to keep her voice even.

  ‘Yes. Is it such a risk?’

  ‘Yes, sir. It’s a very great risk. It’s risking Felicia’s happiness as well as mine. But what’s the alternative, if I don’t like the idea of becoming your mistress?’r />
  ‘I thought we’d agreed on that, more or less.’

  ‘Did I? I didn’t know I had.’

  ‘Well, you agreed to be my woman and my lady. That’s as near as dammit.’

  ‘Mmm…’

  Silence.

  ‘Well, maid?’ He took her chin and tilted it towards him.

  ‘You said you’d not force me. You said it on the ship, remember?’

  ‘Yes, I remember. You’re afraid I might rush you?’

  ‘I’m not afraid.’

  ‘Yes, you are. Courageous in most things, but not in this.’

  Another silence.

  ‘How many women have you had?’

  ‘God in heaven! You want me to list them?’

  She snorted. ‘No, thank you. If it’s that many, you must know your way about.’

  His chest heaved, and he rolled on top of her, kissing her neck. ‘You want me to give you a demonstration before you decide? Is that it?’

  She caught his hand just before it reached her knee. ‘No, I do not!’ She squirmed, but he held her still. ‘Silas, what you’re proposing is…look, let me go home now. This has gone on long enough.’

  ‘No, it hasn’t started yet. Now, are you going to accept or not?’

  ‘Silas…’

  ‘No. Listen, sweetheart. Listen to me.’ He caught her again as she swerved. ‘Any day now they’ll be coming.’

  ‘Who’ll be coming?’

  ‘Your father’s deputies. Fryde’s men. One after the other they’ll come to threaten, bargain, try to steal you, perhaps. I can keep you much safer if we’re of one mind on this, and if you trust me. We don’t have to be enemies, Isolde.’

  ‘I’m not your enemy, Silas La Vallon. You know that I’m not that. But I cannot approve of your methods.’

  ‘I’m not asking for your approval, but for your acceptance and trust. This is life, Isolde. Such things happen. It’s unfortunate when women are caught up in their families’ feuds, but at least you’re safe with me. You know I’ll protect you.’

  She put up a hand to caress his face, unable to resist the persuasion in his deep, husky voice. ‘Yes, I do know. I told my father so in my letter. Indeed, I may already have given him the impression that I’m not as unhappy as I’m supposed to be.’

  ‘You didn’t tell him that I beat you daily?’

  ‘No.’ She smiled, just before he kissed her. ‘I’ll try not to let you down again, truly, I’ll try not to embarrass you. Only…I think you may be disappointed in…in…’

  He smiled at what she could not say. ‘In you? In your lovemaking? Nay, that’s the very last thing that concerns me, my lovely mistress,’ he said, noting the flush that rose at his use of the new title. He placed a warm hand over her neck, sweeping it over her breasts and waist, sending a tremor into her thighs. ‘I shall not be disappointed. We’ll take it slowly, eh? No hurry.’ His kiss was tender and, when he lifted his head, she saw the softened expression of satisfaction in his eyes. His hair fell in silken swathes that he swept back with his fingers, and the cleft in his chin barely responded to the inquisitive pressure of her forefinger.

  ‘What’s that for?’ she whispered.

  ‘To keep your attention, maid.’

  ‘It doesn’t work then, does it? What time is it?’

  ‘Suppertime. Can’t you smell it?’

  ‘My nose isn’t working too well, either.’

  ‘Then take my word for it. My brother will be home soon, and he’s bringing Paulus Matteus with him for the meal. He wants to meet you.’

  ‘God’s truth!’ She pushed away from him, tangling in her skirts as she pushed a way off the bed. ‘What are we doing here like this when we have guests for supper? Why didn’t you wake me?’

  ‘I did,’ he said, adding in an undertone, ‘I think.’

  The well-timed agreement gave Isolde a new framework upon which to build her tangled emotions. Never one to do things by halves, she accepted the role as mistress of the house as the occasion demanded, it being akin to the one she had just vacated at home and therefore not new in that sense. What was different was the confidence that cocooned her like a luxurious garment worn with more pride than ostentation, the former sinfully permeating every pore at Silas’s bellow of laughter as he led his guests from the table to a shady corner in the garden. He had changed at the speed of light into a chestnut-brown brocade patterned doublet with gold tracery around each motif and this, with the frill of white at his neck, accentuated his dark good looks as no vibrant colour could have done. He was every inch the sober but affluent merchant. She had only to look at him to feel her knees turn to water, and to pity the diamond merchant who had wanted him as his son-in-law.

  She understood, as soon as they met Paulus Matteus at the water gate, the reason for his choice of Silas, for the two men were compatible in everything but age and, possibly experience. Myneheere Matteus was older than Isolde had expected, which put into perspective the resentment of his beautiful daughter when her father had not been able to secure for her what she had badly wanted. In his youth, he would have been handsome and bold of feature, though now his chins were multiple and his heavily lidded and lined eyes were dark with the softness of indulgent fatherhood. Beneath the upturned flowerpot of dark red felt, his grey hair was at odds with the beetle-black eyebrows which looked to Isolde as if they’d been stuck on in a hurry. But he was gracious, having nothing of his daughter’s shrewishness, and his acceptance of Isolde as Silas’s mistress was respectful, courteous, even fatherly.

  Isolde was particularly interested to see whether the merchant’s approval of Bard La Vallon was also genuine, but found nothing to suggest that Bard had spoilt his chances in any way. He was, in fact, more subdued and rational in his contribution to the conversation than Isolde had ever seen him, and it was obvious to her that he was taking the acquaintance seriously.

  It was for selfish reasons to do with his own future, however, that Bard was anxious to prevent Paulus Matteus from discovering about Silas’s abduction of Isolde or about their feuding families, for the sudden possibility of a close relationship with the diamond merchant had caused him to revise his earlier plan to discredit his brother in revenge for his own loss of Isolde. The indulgent father must hear no scandal about either of them now, and Bard wished that he had kept Ann-Marie as innocent of the situation as she had been before. Moreover, he knew that Paulus Matteus was far too well-mannered to make any enquiries about how Isolde came to be Silas’s mistress instead of his wife. He need not have been concerned; Isolde wielded the facts like a juggler, leaving both brothers breathless.

  To Isolde, Paulus Matteus was making a reply. ‘No, mistress. Alas, I was widowed two years ago.’

  ‘I am sorry for that, sir, but you have a lovely daughter and connections with the Duchess’s court. Her eventual marriage will be a credit to you, I’m sure.’

  He smiled without showing his teeth. ‘Yes, though she liked the idea of marrying your Silas at one time, you know. Did the rogue tell you that?’

  ‘No, did she really?’

  ‘But Silas is constantly on the move and I’d have been sad for her to live so far from home. Your families…they know each other in Yorkshire?’

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed. They’ve been acquainted since they were born, almost. My father had someone else in mind for me, but Silas had other ideas.’ She shot a sly glance at Silas whose eyes widened fractionally. She could see Bard turning an apricot over and over as if deciding what to do with it. ‘I suppose one might also say it was…’

  ‘Well, you know, that’s what happened to my late wife and I. Her parents had other ideas, too. They didn’t want a merchant’s assistant for their daughter, so I abducted her. Not against her will, I might add.’

  ‘You mean it, sir?’ Isolde stared.

  Silas and Bard blinked.

  Matteus crossed his gown-clad legs and chuckled at the memory. ‘Yes, I did. Ran off with her to Antwerp to live with my employer and that’s how we starte
d our life together. Of course her father came chasing after us but there was nothing he could do about it. Lost four infants, then came Ann-Marie. Then her father relented and we got married. In that order. Unconventional, but that was the way of it. We didn’t do too badly, after all.’ He grinned again, lifting his chin to fondle the jowls beneath.

  Isolde placed a hand lightly upon the merchant’s arm. ‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘Now we only have to wait. So, the only difference between our situations, then, is that I was abducted unwillingly, kicking and screaming all the way across the North Sea.’ Merrily, her laugh made nonsense of the scene.

  Matteus’s large hand covered hers on his arm. ‘Hah! Is that so, mistress? Does she tell the truth, Mistress Cecily?’ He turned to Cecily, laughing, but Silas intercepted the reply.

  ‘Mistress Cecily remembers only the first and last days of the voyage, sir. Everything else was a blank. But I can tell you there was no kicking or screaming. Mind you…’ He began a mock search of his arms.

  Matteus noted Bard’s polite smile. ‘And you were sent to bring them both to their senses, were you, young man?’

  ‘Something like that, sir. I think Isolde’s father sadly overestimates my influence over either of them.’

  ‘A token, lad,’ Matteus said, kindly. ‘A token gesture. Parents have to do it to prove that they’ve tried. I’ll find you a place in my office. See if you like the business, eh? Ann-Marie has taken a liking to you and she’s got a good eye, my daughter has. A good eye.’

  With fortune hammering at his door, Bard could not maintain his vexation with Isolde after the cordial supper at which some of the crooked facts had straightened themselves out most satisfactorily. Even so, he felt it would have been easier if she had told him how it was in the first place, without all that maidenly coyness. He took advantage of Silas’s last private words with his guest.

  ‘A most accomplished performance, Isolde. May I call you “sister” now? Pity you could not have made the same effort to convince me, too. It would have saved me some embarrassment, wouldn’t it?’