“Nay!” Alayna sighed, not even struggling. He paid her no mind, bending to devour the luscious curves that tempted him at her shoulder and the gentle sculpture of her throat. The scent of her, feminine and sensuous and so foreign to him, assailed his senses, weaving a spell that threatened to overtake his will. He was losing himself in her, her texture, her taste. She had gone limp against him, her pulse fluttering wildly against his lips when he kissed the tender flesh behind her ears.
She made a sound, like a soft moan in the back of her throat and shook her head to deny him, but it was another lie, so feeble he ignored it. His hands roamed daringly over her curves, lulling her into sensual abandon when, without warning, she cried out, “Nay!” and, catching him off guard, jerked out of his grasp.
“You do not know when enough is quite enough, Alayna!”
“Do not touch me again!” she cried shrilly. “I cannot bear it.”
“What is it you cannot bear? This?” He made to reach for her, then stopped in shock as she recoiled. That small action had the power to wound him that no sword ever did.
“Am I so disgusting to you?” he said before he could check it. She stared at him, her mouth red from his kiss, her eyes like brilliant bits of ice. She looked so incredibly desirable he had to turn away before he lost what little control remained. “I am truly sorry if the idea is so repugnant to you. Go now, if that is what you wish. We will have it your way. Perhaps there is no turning back the trouble between us. But remember it was your choice.”
She did not answer for such a long time that he thought perhaps she had indeed crept silently away.
“Why do you not simply take what you want?” she whispered. “You always do.”
He turned back to her. “I will not take this.”
“You do not fight fair, de Montregnier. Just when I am ready to despise you as the most loathsome of men, you finally give me the freedom I have been begging for all along. You would really let me go? Risk losing everything?”
He did not answer. Watching the play of emotions that flashed across her face, Lucien could trace her disbelief, her suspicion, her guilt and, finally, her resignation.
She said, “You know it is a sin, as well as against the law, for a wife to ban her husband from her bed. Do you set a trap for me? Well, you will have no cause to torment me with any punishment. I will allow you your rights.” She shot him a resentful look. “Does that make you happy, husband?”
He almost laughed. Trust her to give him what he wanted, but dress it so that he could never take it, not this meek submission to wifely duty.
“Nay, Alayna, it does not make me happy.”
“You are never happy.”
“Perhaps that is my curse.”
She gave him a derisive sigh. “What else do you want from me?”
He closed the distance between them in a sudden surge of determination. He saw the look on her face, a flash of fear, and something else. Damn her, why could she not just admit that despite all of the enmity between them, there also existed an unexplainable tide of passion? “Only this,” he murmured harshly.
She did nothing to resist him this time. A low growl escaped him as he brought his mouth down to hers once again. Let her deny it now, he thought. Let her play the unwilling bride here in his arms, if she could, and he would leave her without another word.
She fought it. To the credit of her damnable pride, she tried desperately to hold out against the combustible feeling that exploded within them, but her body betrayed her as it had before. She melted against him, her arms reaching up to hold on as one who is drowning reaches for their rescuer.
He had only meant to summon her desire with a kiss, but he could not stop now even if he wanted to. A fire had spread through him and he abandoned himself to its urgent prodding. He had never held a woman and had it be like this, felt these feelings that coursed like life’s blood in his limbs, leaving him in a mindless state of need.
He parted her lips and tasted the sweetness of her mouth. Suddenly he could not touch her enough, taste her enough, get her close enough to him.
She was his, completely at his mercy. Impatient, he worked to unfasten her clothing. Her gown slipped easily off her shoulders, but the thin chemise underneath was tied, necessitating a degree of patience to undo it that he did not have. Gripping two fistfuls of the fabric, he ripped it in two.
A soft cry escaped her when his hand touched her fevered skin. He savored the feel of her flesh, bared to his exploration, as his hands smoothed down her back, then up again to take the rounded weight of her breast in his hand. The hard press of its aroused peak against his palm sent a renewed jolt through his body that threatened to tear his very mind from him.
Pulling him close, she arched against that intimate caress. A thrill at such a victory nearly brought him to the brink of madness. This was what he wanted! She could not deny sensation. She could refute him on everything else, but the body had a will of its own.
He drew away. She was the most lovely thing he had ever set eyes upon in his life, made more so now with the flush of desire staining her cheeks. Her eyelids were heavy and she looked a bit dazed.
“You asked what I want from you. ’Tis simple. I want for you to freely give what is only yours to offer,” he said. “Say me nay now, wife. Tell me to stop, and I will do it. But if you wish me to take you, then you must speak it out loud. I will not have you claim you were unwilling. Say you will have me or tell me no, for this is the last time I will ask, but I will not be satisfied with your pretense of mere submission, for it is more than that between us.”
She stared back at him, a horror in her eyes as she realized what he was asking. “I said I would not deny you. I swore before God to honor and obey, and the law forbids—”
“Blast the law, Alayna!” he thundered. “This is between you and I.”
“If I forbid you, you will beat me for disobeying—”
He gave her a vicious shake. “No beatings, I promise you. How can you think—? When have I ever lifted a hand to you? No threats now. Nothing but desire—yours and mine. Tell me what you want. Tell me.”
Alayna stared at him, frozen, mute. The absolutely unthinkable part of it all was she did want him. She did not wish him to stop the exciting, terrifying whirlwind he had created. Every nerve in her body was aching for his scalding kiss and the smooth, warm touch of his hands. She would have begged him for the fulfillment of the fires he had ignited within her but for the shred of sanity that pulled her back from the terrifying edge of abandon.
He was watching her with black, fathomless eyes, waiting for her to succumb. Waiting for another victory for the unconquered warrior.
Yet, there in his eyes, too, was a desperate hope as he awaited her reply. But how could she trust it?
“Nay,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“What did you say to me, lady?” Lucien demanded.
As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. What had she unleashed with that unlawful denial? She watched in horrified fascination as the mask settled back over his features and his grip relaxed.
Suddenly he grasped her neck in his open palms and pressed a cruel kiss to her lips. She thought he was going to go back on his word and take her anyway, but then he released her and stepped away.
She fumbled for the scraps of material that lay draped about her hips, covering her naked breasts.
“So, then, I’ll leave you, just as I promised. But remember you were the one who chose it to be this way.”
He looked dangerous, his eyes blazing. She thought it must be her guilty conscience that imagined an awful pain in the charcoal depths.
“It appears I was gravely mistaken. I thought for a moment that there was more than ice running in your veins.”
Before she could react, he was gone.
Lucien woke his master of the buttery to tap a fresh keg of ale and took a full skin with him up to the battlements.
He often walked along this stretch alone, enjo
ying the solitude and the unhindered view of his domain. His castle, his lands, his people, which he had wrested away from his enemy in a brilliant strategic attack that had won him everything he had ever dreamed of. His, all of it.
Who the hell cared? he thought miserably, running his hand through his hair. How had he ever allowed himself to come to this end?
Slamming the skin down, he prowled restlessly, his body tight with tension. He had almost lost control of himself back there. How he had stopped himself from tossing her onto the bed and taking her against her will, he did not know. Pride, he supposed. He had more than his share of that quality, he had been told not infrequently. Others considered it a fault, but it had gotten him through those dark years of torture and humiliation. As much as Hendron had tried, he had never been able to break that streak of stubborn determination.
Where had his damnable pride been tonight? Dear Lord, he had stopped just short of begging for her. So she hated him, found him so disgusting that his touch sent her near mad with revulsion, did she? But she did not—that was the thing. The little liar could not admit that in spite of her bitter heart, she was as vulnerable to the attraction between them as he was himself.
Damn her! Damn her for her beauty and those eyes that could flash with rage or go soft to limpid pools of green when wounded. And damn himself for the weakness that had made him susceptible to those manipulative wiles. He had even offered to let her go, for God’s sake!
Well, she was not going anywhere. He had been insane to even think it. She could pout and sulk to her heart’s desire, but he would not allow her sweet face to deprive him of what he wanted. She was the key to keeping Gastonbury. Let her despise him, curse him, do her worst. He had lived without the love of a mother, so too could he survive without the gentle regard of his wife.
He had the power to see to her undoing. For all of her cold rejection, she could not deny the unwilling response of her body. Aye, he had an ally there.
It was a game of power. He would never forget that again.
Anger and pride and bitterness came together, forging a new resolve that congealed into a hard knot inside him. It was a familiar brew.
Chapter Twelve
Alayna came awake with the unpleasant sensation of a smack landing smartly on her posterior. With a yelp, she sat up and whirled around to find herself nose-to-nose with Lucien. It took an instant for the clinging wisps of sleep to clear from her-head.
“Rise, wife, and fetch my bath. I need to be off early today.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said archly.
“It will do you no good to beg, woman, for you will not be permitted to loll about lazily in your room. Fetch the water and see to my bath.”
“But those are the duties of a squire!”
“I have no squire. I do not need one, for I do have a wife.”
She audibly choked on that Implicitly dismissing her, he began to undress. When Alayna saw he meant to strip naked, she sprang from the bed. Stepping quickly into a gown, she sped to the kitchens to fetch the water.
A servant set it on the fire to warm, but Alayna assured him that he need not, grinning at the thought of the frigid bath she would deliver. She sloshed the heavy burden up the stairs, spilling it all over herself and leaving a trail of soaked rushes behind her.
Staggering into the chamber, she found Lucien seated by the hearth with nothing but a piece of linen draped over his lap. He was inspecting the leather ties of his belt, oblivious to her openmouthed shock at seeing him in this state of undress. She stood frozen in the doorway, gaping at the sight of his broad chest unveiled for her eyes. The muscles in his arms flexed in a most fascinating way as he worked the tie, testing its strength.
“Pour the buckets into the basin, and be about it quickly. I cannot waste the entire morning waiting for you,” he commanded gruffly.
Terrified he would stand and let that inadequate scrap of cloth fall away, she hastened to quit the room.
“You will not leave my presence until you are given leave to do so!” he thundered, just as she was at the door. “Remember that in the future and it will save you a painful lesson in wifely obedience.”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she turned away from the portal. Pretending to busy herself tidying the room, she took special care to keep her back to him at all times. She could hear the splash of water as he washed, then the soft sound of the drying linen being rubbed briskly on his skin. She was assaulted by uninvited images of him rubbing the washing cloth over his body—the wide shoulders she had glimpsed, the thickly corded arms and long, strong legs.
His voice close to her ear made her start. “Very invigorating, wife. How did you know that I prefer a chill temperature for my morning ritual? It is excellent that you please me so well.”
She gritted her teeth at his snide remark. “Are you through?”
“You may turn around, my love,” he drawled sarcastically. “I do not think my appearance should offend.”
He had dressed. She gave him a look as if she found the man before her wanting. “Oh, my lord, but you do offend.”
He casually toyed with a tendril of her hair. It took every bit of her restraint not to yank the strand out of his hand.
“Take care, Alayna, for on the morrow, I may wish you to attend me at my bath,” he said. He chuckled at her appalled expression, turning on his heel to exit the room. At the doorway, he called back, “Coming, my love?”
Sighing in disgust, she followed. They walked in silence into the hall and took their seats.
During his meal, Lucien commanded Alayna to choose meats and tidbits for him from the large trays proffered by the servers. She resented having to serve him publicly. It was the position of a servant or the squire to fill the lord’s trencher, or for the man to serve the woman as a show of honor. Having to perform this lowly duty was his way of demeaning her.
She was sorely aware of the curious looks it earned from those gathered in the hall. Glowering at him, she dumped food roughly onto his trencher, making a great effort to splash him. Globs of gravy and morsels of food were thrown up onto his tunic. He cast a brief scowl at her game, but he only wiped away the stains without comment.
When the meal was done, he simply rose and quit the place without the courtesy of a farewell. It made her chafe, this public display of his scorn. Pretending not to care, she hurried out, thinking to find Eurice. After a short search, she located her nurse in a small room off the kitchens, mixing poultices from herbs and grease. When Alayna entered, the older woman only looked up at her briefly, wordlessly returning to her chores.
“Good morn,” Alayna said.
Eurice gave her a baleful look. “My lady.”
“What is it you are doing?” she queried, trying to smooth over the tension between them. “Which poultice do you mix?”
“Something to heal one of the villager’s maladies, nothing more. ’Tis nothing important.”
“It must be important, for it seems to occupy you day and night.” Alayna’s comment had a sting, one that Eurice did not miss.
Eurice looked up. “Do you think I have neglected you, child?”
Feeling abused by de Montregnier and piqued by her nurse’s lack of consolation, Alayna snapped, “Abandoned would be the truth of it.”
“And what is it that you require that I have begrudged you?”
“Your company, for one!” she said.
“And what do you think I can do for you? Do you think the pining of an old woman will help you now? You are wed, and your path is set. You need nothing from the likes of me.”
Alayna’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Has de Montregnier done something to forbid you from me?”
“Nay,” Eurice denied. “The baron has not troubled me. He would not do such a thing. He is nothing like Edgar was, and a woman could do much worse than him for a husband.” At Alayna’s look of disgust, she added, “You must try harder, Alayna. It is a wife’s duty to acquiesce to her husband.”
“Bah!”
Eurice’s eyes narrowed, and she asked quickly, “Did you turn him away last night?”
“Nay, I did not. He…” How could she explain? “I told him I would submit.”
“Ah,” Eurice said, satisfied, then grew suspicious. “And how do you fare this morn? Do you need something for the pain? And the bleeding, has it stopped?”
“A-aye, the pain, it does trouble me. But do not worry over it—”
“You never lied well, Alayna!” Eurice snapped. “He did not bed you!”
“He did not want me!”
Eurice snorted harshly, “That is another lie. The man has been prowling about for weeks trying not to look at you. Are you so blind you cannot see how you plague him?”
“He wanted…more than I could give.”
“Whatever your husband wants, it is your duty to submit.” Eurice stopped, considering something for a moment. “What was it he asked?”
“For me to admit that I wanted him.” There, Alayna thought Surely Eurice would understand why she could not yield that.
“Oh, child.” Eurice chuckled. “You are so young and proud. Would it truly be so hard to tell the truth?” At Alayna’s surprised look, the woman shook her head. “You have a handsome, virile husband who desires you. Forget the old resentments, Alayna, and concede to him.”
“I cannot!”
“Your mother and I were wrong to indulge you so. We meant to love you and teach you well, for you were a beautiful, bright, enchanting child. But I see you have become spoiled.” Tears stung Alayna’s eyes. The woman’s words were like an assault. “You need not coddling now, for that is the way of a child, and too long were you kept as one. Rather you must now make your way as a woman. Now you are a wife, and someday may become a mother. It is time you grew up, Alayna.”
There was truth here, but she could not bear it. Speechless with hurt and indignation, Alayna whirled and ran from the room.
That night at the evening meal, Alayna made sure to keep her own counsel. She did not bicker with de Montregnier, she did not dump his food sloppily onto his plate, nor did she splash his wine when she poured it into his chalice.
The Maiden and the Warrior Page 11