Forbidden Magic

by Catherine Emm

  "Hadwin here hasn't even had his first wench," he heard Rickward declare with a laugh and looked up in time to seethe man give his cousin a rough slap on the back.

  "Ahh, but 'tis not because he has not tried," Stafford broke in with a chuckle.,"Methinks his problem might be that most look at that fair face and see a boy staring hack."

  "My face hath little to do with it," Hadwin argued calmly. "And since we do not share a chamber at night, how wouldst thou know what I do after you have found yours?"

  "Ha-hah!" Rickward roared. "Then 'tis the darkness that gains thy entrance into their rooms, for surely a damsel would be tempted to pat thy head rather than spread her skirts."

  "And I must agree with Hadwin," Gunther said. "I have seen the way Lady Jewel greets him. Tis not a child she sees." Lifting his tankard of ale to his lips, Gunther watched Amery from the corner of his eye. When it appeared that his repartee was having little affect on him, for Amery merely sat there, he turned and asked, "Dost thou not agree, Amery?"

  Green eyes shadowed by tawny brows looked up at him. "Thou wouldst have to question Lady Jewel, my friend. I do not practice the art of reading minds." He glanced back at the chalice he held. "Though yours is simple enough."

  Gunther straightened immediately. "Mine? What dost thou mean?

  Without comment, Amery smiled back at Gunther, set his cup on the table, and stood. "Mayhap I should be the one to pose the question," he said, patting Gunther's shoulder before he strode away.

  Amery did not have to look back at his friend as he climbed the stairs. He could almost feel Gunther's eyes upon him and suspected the surprised and somewhat leery expression covering his face. Until the moment when Gunther purposely sought to draw him into a conversation concerning possible suitors for Jewel, he had been too caught up in his own thoughts to recognize Gunther's ploy. Grinning to himself once he reached the top of the staircase, he thought how foolish the man had been, how much effort he had wasted, for since meeting Jewel-at the inn that night he had thought of little else. Of course their motives Were extremely different from each other's. Gunther obviously wanted him to reconsider the betrothal they had disavowed. Bat Jewel only lingered in his thoughts simply because he could not trust her. He was sure she would try to escape him and return to Radolf. The amusement faded from his eyes. Or was that truly the only reason he could not dismiss the vision of her supple body curled against his own?

  He paused only a moment outside the chambers they shared, then lifted the latch and quietly swung open the door. His approving gaze fell immediately on the shapely figure standing before the fire, its glow reflected in the velvet gunna and highlighting the rich color of her hair. It took him a minute to realize what Jewel held in her hand and that the point of the shears was touching just below one breast, but once he had, an explosive fear bolted through him and he bounded forward in three long strides to knock the tool from her grasp. It rattled loudly when it hit the checkered tiles at her feet and seemed to bring Jewel out of the daze that enveloped her. Tears glistened in the amber eyes she lifted to look at him, a startled, frightened expression on the exquisite face, and suddenly Amery was filled with rage.

  "Art thou mad?" he seethed, clutching her tiny wrist when she started to retreat a step.

  "Please," she sobbed, withering with the pain he inflicted as he pulled her closer, "you hurt me."

  "Hurt you?" he stormed. "'Tis a minor one to what you should receive. If I were of the kind, I would lay my fist against that lovely head of yours and restore the sanity you have lost. What purpose didst thou hope to achieve with so foolish an act?"

  "I but seek to be free," she cried, trembling in his dark wrath.

  "Free?" He laughed sardonically. "Thou choosest death over life? What could plague thee so greatly that thou wouldst take the coward's way? I grew to manhood in the shadow of my father and his favored friend, the lord of Harcourt, Alcot by name and father to thee. Of the two, your sire stood taller, stronger, and bravest of them both. Even in his death, he was not afraid, for I have been told he met his foe without the protection of his sword and still did not flee to the shadows but stood his ground. You dishonor him, wench, and vastly so, to prefer the easy path. Though 'tis not my want to marry, had I decided differently, 'twould only be the daughter of this lord I would consider." Angrily, he thrust her from him and Jewel tumbled to the floor. "But thy freedom will not be won merely by piercing a blade into your heart, Jewel," he continued, brows drawn together in a threatening scowl, "for even in your passing you will never find peace if you leave this earth without avenging thy father's death."

  His declaration rang with truth and Jewel was suddenly filled with shame. She had not truly meant to end her life and wondered now what had possessed her. The satisfaction of seeing her father's murderer beheaded should have been her mainstay, given her the courage and determination to continue on. She had never thought of herself as weak but, in fact, strong willed once she set her mind on something. What had happened? What had caused her hand to lift the blade to her heart? As if pleading for an answer, she looked up at the man towering over her and knew the absurdity of her notion. She had sought to free herself from him. And now, by his own suggestion, he gave her the provocation to accomplish both, for proving him guilty of the slaughter would also win her freedom. A slow, calculating smile parted her lips as the firelight gleamed in her amber eyes, and, with new conviction, she proudly lifted her chin and glared back at him.

  "Yea, m'lord," she said softly, "I yield to your logic, for had I spilled my blood, I would have been cheated of seeing you dance from a gibbet."

  Amery's huge frame remained motionless as he watched her, drinking in the splendid beauty of the oval face, high cheekbones, and full, sensuous mouth lifted in a taunting smile. And when she moved to rise, unfolding the lithe form, his blood warmed in his veins. The hearth's glow shimmered in the smooth folds of the gunna caressing her shapely figure and, as his eyes lowered to trace the magnificent curves draped in velvet, he longed to press the supple body against him. Forcing himself to turn away lest he forget his reason in coming to this room and instead sample the riches he knew her capable of giving, he returned to the opened door and, touching a wide hand to it, swung it shut with a dull thud.

  "Wouldst thou see another die without cause?" he asked quietly before settling his gaze upon her once more.

  Jewel's fair brow wrinkled.

  "I have seen the way young Hadwin watches you," he continued, leaning back against the door, his arms folded over his huge chest. "He is beguiled by your beauty and blind to common sense. Thou wouldst have but to smile at him and he would be bewitched. If you begged his aid, he would give it heedlessly. Thus, I lay his life in your hands. If he attempts to take you from Burchard and send you to your home, I will be forced to stop him any way I can. Thou art mine, Jewel, until I deem it otherwise."

  Her face flushed with anger and her eyes flashing golden sparks, she drew herself up to meet the cold hardness of his warning. "Once before you threatened another because of me. You claim I am yours without my say in the matter, and I have held quiet out of fear. No more, sir knight. I will not hold my tongue. We recanted our vows to wed and thus left you without the right to decide my future. I am your prisoner, nothing more. So do not think to sway Sir Hadwin's affections for me with threats that I belong to you. He already suspects the truth, that I never belonged to you in my heart and now in name as well."

  A lazy smile stretched across his mouth as he casually regarded her. "Mayhap I have no churn upon your heart, fair Jewel, nor offer you my vow in wedlock, but thou dost belong to me in another way ... one even you cannot deny."

  "And what is that, my confident one?" she challenged.

  Straightening, he dropped his hands to his sides and leisurely started toward her. "That by the simplest touch of my hand to your breast, your passion overrules your head. You are mine. Lady Jewel, and always shall be even after I have turned from you to find another."

  Jew
el's delicate chin dropped to heatedly rebuff his claim, but when his grin widened and he continued to advance, her anger turned to alarm and she fell quiet, clumsily retreating when he came too near.

  "Shall I prove it to you?" he whispered, his great height dwarfing hers. "Shall I set your heart pounding, your lust burning to be sated? Shall I stroke the velvety flesh of your thigh, then feel your arms around me, urging me to take you?" He paused, waiting.

  Unshed tears felt hot against her eyelids and Jewel fought to hide them. "If I said thee nay, wouldst thou take heed?"

  Standing close to her now, he lifted his hand to gently cup her chin and stare into those captivatingly beautiful eyes. "Only if I wished it," he murmured, then slowly lowered his head.

  Warm, moist lips pressed against her own, branding her to her very soul, and the desire to resist him quickly faded. Silently, she cursed the body that responded so wantonly, feeling her arms lift to circle his neck and pull him closer. She returned his kiss with equal ardor, letting the fire he sparked spread rapidly through every fiber of her being and melt away the icy barrier of caution. She longed to hate him, prove that his touch had no effect, and when his fingers moved to the catches of her gunna, something inside her snapped.

  "Nay," she half sobbed, half screamed, tearing her mouth from his, her hands pushing at the hardness of his chest in a dismal attempt to be free. But Jewel knew she had waited too long in denying him when one hand trapped the back of her head and he crushed her to him once more as the other hand quickly worked loose the fastening of her garment. His mouth covered her desperate protests and she struggled with all the strength she possessed, only to feel the velvet cloth of her gunna slip from her shoulders and cascade to the floor at her feet. In the next instant, he lifted her in his powerful arms and agilely carried her to the bed kicking and hurling vengeful oaths upon his head, tiny fists pounding against the rock-hard muscles of his back and shoulders.

  "Unhand me, knave," she hissed and saw him smile.

  Fear bolted through her as she wondered if he might lay a huge fist against her skull, then spread the tale that she had tried to escape him and had left no other course for him to take. She went limp in his arms.

  Surprised by her sudden change in temperament, Amery looked at her skeptically, one brow lifted, the smile lingering. "Dost thou think to trick me?" he asked with a grin.

  Round, amber eyes stared back at him.

  "Dost thou hope it will all be over sooner if you do not resist? 'Twould be more pleasant for you if you did not, but, either way, it matters little to me ... a fiery vixen or docile maid ... I enjoy them both." The smile disappeared from his lips though his passion glowed unmistakably in his eyes, and he frowned as if something pained him. "Thou art like a fever, little one, a disease that plagues me. You infect my blood and send it racing through my veins, and I curse the night I found you at the inn," he whispered angrily.

  Suddenly his mouth came down hard upon hers and he bent a knee against the bed, lowering them both upon its softness. His hands moved quickly, stripping the kirtle from her and freeing the full, ripe breasts for him to sample. Jewel cried out in terror, begging him to stop when he trailed kisses down her throat, then captured a rose-hued peak, searing her flesh in a consuming wave of passion. Her own began to soar and she squeezed her eyes shut when his hand greedily explored the bareness of her hip and thigh, and she trembled beneath his caress.

  He left her only briefly to shed his garments and in that moment Jewel wondered at his confession. What had he meant that he cursed the night he found her? If he hated her so much, why didn't he let hep go? Why did he continue to torture her? A tear stole between her lashes. What power made her welcome his touch, then cower beneath his scorn? Shame flooded over her, yet when he came to her again and pressed his body next to hers, it set her blood on fire and a wild ecstasy exploded within her. Bewitched, she opened her arms and drew him to her, lips parted in eager acceptance of his kiss. Their bodies meshed and moved as one, tenderly, breathlessly, and nothing else seemed to matter but this one exquisite moment of desire.

  For both the blissful interlude ended too quickly as the sounds of laughter floating up from the great hall below lessened the fury of their passion. Exhausted, Amery fell back against the mound of pelts beneath them and stared up silently at the ceiling, a frown creasing his rugged brow. Covertly, Jewel watched him, wondering what thoughts beset him. Could it possibly be remorse that haunted him? Nay. Twould not trouble him that he had taken her against her will. Or had he? Jewel's gaze lowered to her nakedness that still glowed warmly from their lovemaking and her eyes filled with tears. She was truly no better than a whore, for she had not fought him. He had done as he had said he could. A simple caress had stirred the lust she foolishly denied lay hidden within her. But could any have aroused it? she wondered sullenly. Or was it this man alone who had the prowess to awaken such reckless desires? Suddenly she felt his weight move against the bed and she glanced up, startled that be sought to begin again, and met the same surprised look on his face. But it quickly vanished when a smile twinkled in his green eyes and spread across his face.

  "Rest your fears, little one," he told her with a grin. "The beast has had his fill."

  Effortlessly, he swung his feet to the floor and strode to where he had left his clothes, and Jewel could not pull her gaze away from the sleek muscles of his broad back, firm waist, and taut thighs, which carried his huge frame so proudly. Her pulse quickened as she wickedly feasted on his magnificent form, then cast her eyes away when his own caught sight of the way she stared. His laughter echoed loudly in her ears, bringing a crimson flush to her cheeks, and her anger rose that he would taunt her so. With nettled jerks, she covered herself with the fur pelts surrounding her and silently fumed while be dressed.

  Resting her chin on knees hugged tightly to her, she forced herself to stare straight ahead and thus failed to see him approach. She jumped with a start when she felt him gently lift the thick braid of auburn hair to test its silkiness in the palm of his hand. Fire flashed in her eyes, for she was ready to fight him to the death were he to have a change of heart and think to sate his lust once more. But the distant look in his eyes aroused her curiosity and she remained still, waiting.

  "Lady Jewel of Harcourt," he whispered absently, studying the richness of the coppery strands, "had things only been different..."

  Jewel sat unmoving, the fine arch of her brows wrinkled in confusion as she watched him turn without another word and walk toward the door, his wide shoulders drooping slightly, as if he carried a great weight upon them. Without a backward glance, he lifted the latch and left the room.

  * * *

  Voices sounded in the hall below and Jewel turned her attention from the fire, where she had spent the last two hours since Amery had gone, to listen, wondering what might be the cause of their excitement. When the muted chatter grew in volume, she left her chair and crossed to the door, pausing to smooth the wrinkles from her gunna. She intended only to open it and peer outside for a clue to everyone's gaiety. But before she had touched the latch, an exuberant rapping nearly rattled the portal from its hinges and Aselma's young voice called out to her. Jewel bade her enter and stood back in surprise as a host of people followed the maid inside.

  There were servants bearing cloth of silk and linen, wool and velvet, in every color of the rainbow, and women with threads and scissors, and fur and braid trimmings. In the midst of them all stood a thick-girthed man Jewel guessed to be the tailor who, without a word, took her hand and led her to a stool he positioned in the middle of the room. There he helped her to step upon it and busily began to take her measurements with the cords he had draped across his shoulders, then turned to issue instructions to the seamstresses. The room, seemed to hum with activity as each performed his duty, the long bolts of cloth were spread out to cut, and fur strips were selected to adorn the gowns.

  Jewel could only stand where she was told as nimble fingers tucked and measured seam
s, and held first one piece of fabric then another, beneath her chin in a hurried attempt to choose which color looked best with her auburn hair and amber eyes. And for each gown that was made, slippers were cut and sewn to match. Hie afternoon wore on and no one tired of their chores, for their mistress promised to enhance their work as no other before her.

  "Which wilt thou choose to wear this eve?" Aselma asked when Jewel was finally allowed to sit again.

  "Oh, Aselma," Jewel moaned, tears glistening in her eyes, for she had never expected Lady Anne to be so generous. Pressing her fingertips to her mouth, she studied each and every one laid out across the bed as the women quickly gathered scraps of cloth from the floor where they had fallen, collected their tools, and happily followed the tailor from the room. " Tis a choice I will find difficult to make. They are all beautiful and none more so than the others. I fear I will do none of them justice."

  "Nonsense," Aselma argued with a laugh and crossed to the bed filled with the harvest of an afternoon well spent. "If I were to choose, it would be this." She lifted an emerald green linen garnished with, a wide braid of soft mint beneath the gathered bosom and across the low neckline. "'Twill compliment your hair. And I have a most fitting way to fix it. Oh"—she grinned back at Jewel—"thou wilt be the envy of all in Burchard."

  "Then I shall not stand in your way, Aselma." Jewel laughed, coming to her feet. "Where do we begin?"

  Returning the gown to its former place, the young maid whirled excitedly toward Jewel. "First we must let down your hair and brush the shine back into it. Then we'll pile it atop your head and adorn it with ribbons. You'll look as if you're going to see the dowager queen."

  Aselma's happiness was infectious, though Jewel could not disclaim her own delight over Anne's extravagant gift, and she eagerly allowed the serving girl to help her disrobe and take the braid from her hair. A half hour later, Jewel was seated on the edge of the bed sliding her feet into the mint-colored slippers that had been made especially for the gown Aselma had chosen, the auburn locks of hair arranged perfectly, and light green ribbons entwined within them.