Satisfied with her work, she rearranged the fur pelt on the floor before the fireplace and sat down cross-legged to finish drying her hair. It felt wonderful to be clean and warm again and even the howling wind outside the window did not seem to bother her overmuch. Freeing one corner of the linen wrap, she began to blot her hair with it as a soft smile deepened her dimple.
If Dawn could see me now, she thought with a slight shake of her head. Had she been here in my stead, she would have demanded more suitable lodgings than these. Jewel sighed. But Dawn would have not fallen from her horse. She is more practiced with an animal than I.
A noise in the corridor outside her room caught Jewel's attention and she looked up at the door. The din in the great hall below had not lessened and she strained to hear the sound again. But when it did not come, she shrugged off its significance as simply someone else's seeking a place to rest further down the passageway. She returned to the task of wiping the moisture from her thick mane. Leaning forward, she flipped the heavy mass of curls over her head to dry the underside, her slender fingers ruffling the many layers, then bolted upright when she heard the door of her room open. Auburn locks fell in wild disarray about her face and shoulders and her pale brown eyes were wide with alarm as she frantically pushed stray tendrils from her brow and clutched the linen wrap beneath her chin. A knot of panic lodged in her throat, for standing haloed in the framework of the entryway as bold as any man, a stranger calmly stared back at her.
Jewel could not find the words to speak but only stared, certain this too must be a vision of her nightmare. Yet the size and strength he radiated loomed out vividly to claim him true. He stood feet apart, one arm at his side, the helm he carried nestled in the crook of the other, gauntlets clutched in his fist, and Jewel knew him to be a knight to King Richard by the raiment he wore. Chausses covered his feet and muscular calves, and disappeared from view beneath the hauberk he wore. Pushed back from his head, the coif, a hood made of similar tiny chain mail, lay in folds against his neck. From one hip hung a sword, a weapon Jewel doubted she could lift with both hands. Although her years numbered seven and ten, she had yet to see a man of greater build, one whose mere presence demanded respect, and she trembled from worry for the reason he found himself here. Willing her body to move, she awkwardly reached out for her mantle and pulled it from the chair, hastily covering herself with it. She remained crouched on the fur pelt before the hearth, afraid her knees would not hold her if she stood.
"I... I fear, good sir, an error has been made," she said weakly, looking at his face for the first time.
Green eyes shadowed by tawny brows seemed to pierce her through. Light brown hair streaked golden by the sun framed a strong face, square jaw, and cleft chin. A scar gleamed white against the bronze complexion of his cheek and the thin, straight nose drew her attention to a full, almost sensuous, mouth, now unsmiling and set in a hard line. She had deemed Radolf handsome, but in comparison to this knight, he fell to second place. Had she seen this man at court dressed in full armor and mounted on a mighty charger, she doubted she could have kept herself from staring open mouthed, form all of England, no other man could claim such perfection both in face and stature. But this small space was not the royal palace and Jewel did not hide among the crowd. They were alone and she unclothed, and Jewel sensed he had no intention of leaving at her command. The frantic beating of her heart pounded in her ears.
"If thou wouldst summon the keeper," she began, her words barely more than a whisper, "he would set the matter straight. 'Twas he who showed me to this place and would gladly show you yours." A puzzled frown crimped the fine arch of her brow as one corner of the knight's mouth lifted with his smile.
"Tis no error, for in fact 'twas he who brought me to this door."
The meaning of his words chilled her more than the deep richness of his voice. "But, sir ...," she breathed, pausing to place her thoughts in context, "allow me a moment then to dress and be gone. If the keeper meant this chamber to be your haven for the eve, I will seek mine elsewhere."
"No need," he replied, stepping further into the room, one broad hand catching the edge of the door and swinging the portal shut behind him. The resulting dull thud tensed every muscle in Jewel's body.
"Then the keeper has made a misjudgment, sir. I am not a... a ..."
"Whore?" he finished, setting his helm and gauntlets on a nearby table. Turning back to face her, be stood at ease, one knee bent, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Then pray tell me, where is your escort and chaperon?"
Jewel opened her mouth to speak but realized the tale would sound false without evidence. She swallowed the sob that threatened to escape her and challenged him with a question of her own. "If, in truth, I was a .. . whore, then why have you sought me out? If I am as you assume, wouldst I not be the one playing for your attention in the hall below?"
He considered her a moment, then nodded slightly. "Yea, 'tis the custom of most, those who openly seek a coin for their affection. The rest, like you, play the innocent and hide behind titles."
"The rest? Do you group us all as one?" she asked, appalled by his insinuation.
Again he nodded as he reached for the belt of his sword and freed it from around his waist. '"Twas only one woman in my life who marked the exception. I doubt there will ever be another."
"Who are you?" Jewel demanded, his questioning her good name bringing her to her feet.
The perfect whiteness of his smile greeted her as he laid the sword with his other garments. "One more among many to come and those past. My name is unimportant, only that you please me." He reached for the coif and pulled it from his head.
"Get out!" Jewel shouted, anger rarely seen now surfacing to set a fire in her eyes.
He paused, studying the flushed face glaring at him, then tossed aside the coif as he said, "Not until money well spent is rewarded."
"Money? What money? I have not received any."
Green eyes briefly scanned the interior of the room. "Mayhap not in coin, but you do enjoy its comfort."
A startled gasp caught in her throat. "'Twas you who paid for this?"
He shrugged. "In a manner of speaking."
"But I thought...." Tears came to her eyes and she fought to hide them as she cursed her own stupidity for being so easily fooled by the innkeeper. It had been the plan all along, to trick her into coming here while he sold her off as some slave for the pleasure of any man who could pay the price. Wisdom may have fled before, but it returned twofold now and she became determined not to remain in this room a moment longer. Hurriedly gathering her damp gunna, chemise, and hose, she hugged them to her and set a brave look upon him. "Then you shall have the comfort this humble place offers and I shall seek out the stable for mine." She took a courageous step forward and stopped when the knight failed to move, blocking the way. "I shall see you are repaid the cost of the bath once my escort arrives if that be your worry," she guaranteed with a lift of her tiny chin, then retreated when laughter rumbled deeply in his wide chest.
"You play the game better than most, little one," he declared with an approving nod. "But methinks you carry it too far. Didst thou hope for more than a bath and a warm place to sleep?" Huge hands unfastened the catch of his hauberk and began to remove it.
"I... I do not have need for any more except the privacy I had before," she replied, her fearful eyes watching as he continued to disrobe. "Please, sir, a grave error has been made and you will be held responsible if you do not desist from your intentions."
Stepping forward, he laid the hauberk over the chair that had only moments before held Jewel's mantle. "And who will sit in judgment? An angry father, perhaps?" he scoffed.
"Nay, sir, my betrothed," she answered firmly.
The knight chuckled loudly. "Do you truly expect me to believe your betrothed would allow you to travel the road unchaperoned? Name him, if you can, that I may call him fool."
Jewel's anger overrode her fear of the knight and stole her
voice. She opened and shut her mouth repeatedly, grasping for the proper words to hail upon him.
"Doth his name escape you? Or in fact not exist?" he challenged, green eyes consuming her.
"Yea, there is such!" she stormed defensively. "Sir Amery of Wellington and knight to King Richard." Her temper faded quickly with the startled look he gave her, and worry formed again when the expression changed to something akin to rage. Had this knight a special hatred of Amery that the mere mention of him sparked the flame anew? Suddenly Jewel wondered at the wisdom of revealing the identity of her betrothed. Mayhap this warrior would use her to seek his revenge against Amery in more horrible ways than she had imagined this first meeting would produce. The muscles across her chest tightened. Amery had more important matters to attend than rescue her from a vengeful enemy. She clutched her garments closer to her and stepped back.
"Sir Amery of Wellington, you say?" he hissed, nostrils flared. "A knight who rides at his king's side? A Crusader? A man whose name is whispered by all of England? What a wise choice, my sweet. There isn't a serf or nobleman in the kingdom who does not know of him. But few can claim to know his betrothed by sight, only name. You could lie and state you are she, and I could not deny the fact. Is that how you are called? Lady Jewel of Harcourt?"
She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and wondered if it shined clearly for him to see. She had, set a trap about her, one from which neither course would free her. If she spoke the truth, it could mean her death and probably Amery's, yet to deny it would surely bring about a fate more horrible, a living hell that would follow her to her grave and forbid eternal rest. She would live the life of a scorned woman, and, worse yet, Amery would have just cause to turn away from her. "Well?"
Round, fearful eyes found his, but no words moved her lips, for matters plagued her mind other than confirming or denying his question.
"Yea, 'twas as I thought," he answered dismissingly and lifted a booted foot to the arm of the chair. He began to unfasten the chain mail from around his leg.
Jewel watched him a moment, covertly judging the distance to the door and the path she must take to reach it, though the way seemed barred by his imposing form. She realized that if she were to save herself she would have to rely on keen wit and play upon his honor.
"How one is called should be of little import. If I claim to be daughter to King Richard or lowly serf, thou shouldst respect my request for privacy. If thou art truly a knight, put upon to protect the softer gender, thou—"
"Softer, you say?" he mocked, dropping his foot to the floor. "A nuisance, as I see it. Of what use are women other than to ease a man's basic needs? Are they ever allowed to think for themselves? Are they given a voice in anything of importance other than laundry or the making of marmalade? What skills do you have except the conniving way you bend a husband to your silly whims? Nay, little one, you wish to be softer, but your heart is made of stone. And I for one will not weaken because you cry injustice."
Jewel pulled back in surprise, startled by this stranger's bitter words. He spoke as though he recited a verse many times repeated and she knew a sudden realization that no argument on her part would sway him to think otherwise or convince him that an unfortunate occurrence had been the only reason she found herself here. Her throat tightened and she wished now that she had trusted her instinct to pass by the public inn in search of her mare. She blinked and a single tear raced for her chin.
"But of course. How could I forget that?"
His deep, angry voice jarred her nerves and she looked up questioningly.
"Tears," he answered with a sneer. "When all else fails, weep. So many men are fooled by them. But not I."
A strong hand shot out, seized her wrist painfully, and yanked her to his hard chest. Jewel's body turned to granite, her eyes widened, her breath left her, and before she could gather her wits and object, his mouth swooped down on hers, moist and demanding and lightly scented with ale. She stood in frozen horror, shocked by his boldness, until his tongue forced her lips apart and pushed inside. She came to life instantly. One wrist still captured in his hand, her other desperately clamping her garments and wrap to shield her nudity, she was left with no other alternative than to twist in his arms and jab her elbow into his belly. The attack caught him unprepared and remiss from the dulling effects of his drink, though it surprised him more than caused any pain. He released her abruptly to gape in confused wonderment, and Jewel quickly circled in back of one of the chairs, setting it between them.
"If your shrewdness is so great, my cocky knight, wouldst thou explain why you cannot grasp the knowledge that this is one maiden who wants nothing from you?" she clamored, though she felt little of the courage the tone of her words implied. "Not your money, your company, or your advances. They, like you, repulse me."
He stood unmoving, the emerald eyes shadowed by his brow, until all of a sudden he threw back his head and roared his laughter. "Gunther was right. You are extraordinary. And had he and I not traveled here side by side, I would suspect the two of you had met elsewhere to plot against me." Giant fists rested on his lean hips as he cocked his head to one side, looking her up and down, a smile lingering. "If 'tis truth you speak, you will be the first who did not wish to further herself with my aid and spread her skirts as payment."
A loathing for this man simmered in the pit of Jewel's belly. "Even death would be more welcome than lying with you," she spat.
"Oh?" he tested with a lift of one brow. "And how can you judge it true if you have experienced neither? Many have come to me a second time while others beg their turns. Surely all could not be wrong."
"Only addled," she retorted. "No man is worth what you claim. You least of all."
"Shall we see?" he dared, his fingers quickly untying the strings of his leather gambeson.
"Nay!" Jewel shouted, retreating even further when he slipped from the tunic and laid it on the chair with his hauberk. "Didst thou hear? I do not care to know what sorcery you practice."
"Sorcery?" he repeated, not at all affected by her demands. Without pausing in his efforts, he removed the protective armor from his legs and straightened to full height before her, garbed only in linen chausses. "You think me a magician?"
Jewel's heart pounded in her chest and every muscle in her body stiffened as she fought not to appraise his muscular body now bare to the waist. Even without the benefit of thick layers of cloth, his size failed to lessen. She guessed him to be nearly two hands taller than she, with broad shoulders and sinewy arms used to wielding a heavy sword or battle-ax. His bronze complexion gleamed in the firelight, which cast shadows against the ripple of muscles across his chest, and she noticed the slight hollow beneath his ribs where a flat, hard belly began. Not a single masculine hair graced the area, and her fingertips tingled defiantly with a gnawing ache to trace each strong curve of his physique. With the sudden realization that she had been betrayed by her own womanly body, and certain that he had cast a spell, she sucked in a deep breath for courage, for she knew that though she willed it, her feet would not move.
"Only a wizard could fill a woman's head with fancies even a child of five would sense false. Or, my pompous knight, perhaps your conceit has filled yours," she proposed, forcing her eyes to focus on his handsome face. "But whatever the cause that these women grovel at your feet, I suggest you find another on which to practice your charms. I am not interested."
A soft smile curled his lips. "And now you have injured my pride and aroused my curiosity."
"Your pride is not all I wish to injure," she muttered.
"Truly?" he mocked with a short laugh. "Then allow me a moment to change your mind and prove to both of us that I do not resort to witchcraft as you say. I fear I would not sleep peacefully if I were forced to live out my days not knowing."
Jewel's patience wore thin. "As I recall, there is another of my kind in the public room below. Learn what you wish to know from her and leave me to my peace and solitude."
H
e shook his head. "Nay. Wouldst be no contest. She has already offered and you have declared no want of me. 'Twould be a truer match to win your affection and hear you beg me not to leave at morning light."
"If the coming of dawn would find me alone again, I pray for the morrow," she snapped, eyes blazing.
"Ah, but I fear your prayers will not be answered as quickly as you wish, for the eve has barely settled on the land and many hours have yet to pass before darkness will lift and place a new day before us." He started around the chair toward her. "Why not spend those hours with me and chase the chill away with your body next to mine?"
With each step he took, Jewel shadowed his moves, guardedly keeping the piece of furniture between them and remaining far enough away that he could not suddenly reach out and grab her. "I fear too long a time has passed since you have shared words with a lady who is not a whore, sir knight, or you would by now know I prefer to sleep alone."
"Sleep?" he mimicked. '"Twas not what I had in mind. And as for ladies and their desires, I will solve your wonderings. 'Lady' is a title such as 'queen' or 'whore.' I see no difference." All humor vanished from the green depths of his eyes. "And what they desire matters not. 'Tis my own I will fulfill." With that, his huge hand caught the high-backed chair and flung it aside as easily as if it had been a piece of kindling. "I desire you and even though you say nay, I will take you this night and leave you panting in my wake.",
Jewel's entire body quaked with his announcement, her garments slipped from her hands, and as she spun about to race for the door, the mantle glided from her shoulders, leaving only the thin wrap covering her. Tears flooded her eyes as she groped blindly for the latch and once her trembling hand struck it, she lifted up and pulled the door open, only to have it slammed shut again by the wide hand that came from behind her. Certain now that no amount of words or tearful pleas would save her, she dashed beneath his arm and darted across the room, putting the four-poster bed in his path. Her flight seemed not to anger him, for he merely turned to watch and she frowned at the strange look in his eyes. She saw no compassion, no remorse, but a pleased expression, as if he favored an unwilling wench over those who easily, did as he commanded. She despised his callous nature, hated his pomposity, and wanted desperately to show him she was not afraid, that no matter what he did or said, not a single tear would fall because of him. Her chin quivered in spite of her pledge. And when he advanced a step, a whimper trailed from her lips. With nothing left her, she struck out with the one weapon no one could take from her—her tongue.
Forbidden Magic Page 5