She turned back and let a slight titter of laughter escape her throat. "I think not, milord. You will never spend any time in my bed. Now before I leave," she purred as her fingers danced on the silken underside of his member. "I want to leave you with something."
Her hand cupped his essentials, holding a gentle pressure on them. She laid her lips against his chest, burning a trail of sensuous kisses down his rippled belly before plunging toward his navel. From the sound of his breath and the cries emitting from his mouth, he enjoyed himself completely.
When she felt he had enough, Isabeau pulled away but let her fingers linger for a moment as a golden brow rose. "Now who will be hungering for whom this evening?" With that, Isabeau stepped out of his line of vision and moved toward the door. Her knuckles rapped with a light motion. The bolt shuddered back, filling the room with a sharp clang. Heavy oak swung open, allowing her to exit on the ringing of his heavy breathing, her heart pounding erratically. Oh how I wish to hear that sound if I am under him! She thought.
As soon as the door closed, Isabeau turned to the head guard. "Take him down and make sure he is well rested. He is to get the best food we have to offer. If any wounds are infected, bring the physician immediately to tend to them."
The man shot her a look as if to question her decision. "Why, your Majesty? He is just an English pig! Why not kill him and be done with it?"
"Because he is of royal blood and should fetch a good price. If he is unwell, perhaps the Prince would not be so generous in the Duke’s ransom."
Her guard tipped his metal encased head to her. "As you wish, my Queen."
Isabeau let out a weary sigh and turned to walk up the stairs. Her knees still felt weak despite the fact strength returned with furious abandon. With each, slow step, her mind replayed his words that would haunt her in the days to come. How many nights are you going to lay awake in the quiet of your chamber, hungering for the warmth my arms can provide? She shivered. Part of her knew he was right. She did hunger for the release and the bliss his expert hands could provide. Yet part of her remained determined to fight it. I will fight it until I can no longer battle it. She placed one slipper-encased foot on the next step and halted as her mind raced. There was one problem. How long could she last against the barrage on her senses before she succumbed?
* * * *
Kendrick waited until the door was closed before he let out a strained breath. His body ached with incessant longing for Isabeau. His mind hungered for the passion she had stored in the well of her soul. He went slack for a moment as the pain shot through his arms from the strain of the shackles. Oh, how he relished her touch! ‘Twas like nothing he had never known before. Soft and light, her caress was enough to send his mind into a whirling dervish. Why had no other woman made him feel like this? Without warning, he pulled back upwards and used the strong iron as leverage. Get a hold of yourself man, he chided himself, she is not to be trusted! Spend one night with her if you must but do not lose your heart to her! He sighed with a heavy resignation. No matter how much he wanted her or how she differed from other women, his heart would be the one thing he would never allow her to possess.
* * * *
Prince Edmund sat behind his makeshift table, encompassed by his advisors. How had the wench captured Kendrick? His half brother was a seasoned knight with many battles under his belt. How would a woman outwit him?
Edmund’s eyes narrowed as these thoughts passed behind the heavy curtain of his mind. "We underestimated the wench. How could she have known about a military strategy such as this?" He swept the two factions of soldiers representing the Castilian army together, letting them close in on the bits of metal imitating his own.
One of the most learned of the men proposed an explanation. "Perhaps her father thought it best to school her in warfare. Also, she has her father’s right hand man to guide her."
Edmund leapt to his feet and stalked around the table, pacing as though he was a caged animal. What if he could use her trick on her? Could he count on her to try and use the same move? He halted and glared at his advisors with the hope they would give him the answer he desired. "If given another opportunity, would you dare say the Queen would repeat her move?"
The elder nodded his head. "Perhaps but we will not know until we are face to face with her again. She is young and brash. Undoubtedly, if the move worked once, it would stand to reason it would work again."
Edmund clapped his hands together in a devilish fashion, his mind whirling. "Good. If a ransom note arrives for Kendrick, we will gladly pay it. We will meet on Cantilles Field for the exchange. Have the men dig holes for them to hide in so that when one flank comes in, they can overtake it."
"So you wish to cripple her completely?"
Edmund nodded as the heat of triumph crept into his cheeks. "Aye, that is what I want to do most. Kendrick can have the wench. I want to hand Castile over to my father on a silver platter. After I have his approval, Kendrick can do with the woman and the country what he likes."
* * * *
Morning dawned earlier than usual as the birds welcomed the newborn dawn with a cheerful song. Isabeau’s eyes flittered open. Rays of sun burst through the open window as if an unwarranted intruder. Dust motes swirled around and moved in lazy patterns on the streams of light. She watched them for a moment and sat up. Her body ached from the little sleep she had received. With each hour that passed, she had tossed and turned. Her mind remained consumed with questions and wonder. How was she going to last against the demands of her own body?
Memories of each encounter brought forth new emotions she never knew existed. Closing her eyes, she imagined her form beneath him as her body cried out for more of his touch … A slight knock at the door drew her attention away.
Isabeau lifted her head and glanced toward the door. "Enter," she bade in a tired voice. The door swung open in a sluggish fashion to reveal several of her ladies with the wash basin and soap. With a reluctant heart, she arose from bed. It was going to be another long evening of torture for her captive. Would she be up to the challenge night after night before she succumbed to his seductive charms?
* * * *
Kendrick awoke in the dim chamber as the pale light streamed through the tiny slit serving as ventilation. He stretched on the much too short bed of straw, quickly reminded of the pain burning through his arms. Pulling back his limbs, Kendrick felt his wrists. Dried blood scabbed over the chafed skin as bits of flesh clung on by threads. I will make the girl pay for this in the most delicious ways. The wounds did not anger him. He’d received much worse on the battlefield. It was the fact that she tortured him in such an expert manner that he was forced to question her innocence. Aye, if she is a virgin, she will not be one for long.
Kendrick rose from the bed and stretched, running a tired hand through his damp hair. At least he was no worse for the wear. The wounds would heal in time. Thankfully, she did not have him flogged or even worse. He yawned and stifled it with the back of his hand. What new torture would she inflict on him today?
Without warning, what was left of his breeches tightened even more around his manhood, sending waves of ache filled desire through his body. Why did this girl bring out the beast in him? He had not felt this way in what seemed forever, at least since Bregonia. I will kill anyone who lays a hand on her. Nay, no one would ever touch her, even if he had to marry her to do it.
A shrill, sharp sound pierced the air and he whirled his head to see the cell door swing open and bang against the wall with a thud. Surprise crawled over his features as two servants bumbled through the doorway with a table in their grubby limbs. His hands went to his hips. "What is the meaning of this?"
"This is for you, milord," one of the servants replied in a solemn tone as he let one end of the table thump against the mat. The other followed in kind. A large chair came next. It too, was set down with the same grace and elegance as the table. Without a sound, a suckling pig with an apple in its mouth entered, carried by another servito
r. Ribbons of steam rose from the roasted flesh, making his belly growl in anticipation. Behind the meat came a bowl of succulent fruit followed by a basket of bread. Wine accompanied the course, brought in a golden pitcher and poured into an ornate goblet. Kendrick could do nothing but stare at the king’s feast before him. If she cared nothing for me, why would she go to this much trouble to keep me alive?
Eyeing the table with fake suspicion, Kendrick glared at the last servant who made ready to leave. "Why is the Queen doing this? Would it not serve better to give me nothing?"
The servitor stopped and shook head. "I know not what the Queen has in mind for you. Our orders are to give you the best we have to offer," he professed as he spun on his heel. Halting his retreat, he turned back. "When you are finished, you will be bathed again and your bandages changed. The Queen wishes to see you later."
Kendrick’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Isabeau. How I would love to get my hands on her. "When will that be?"
The man shrugged with an indecisive motion. "I know not. When she does, you will be chained as before. Now eat." With silent lips, the little wretched creature left the acrid air of the cell and closed the door behind him with a firm hand.
Kendrick stayed rooted in his spot until he heard the sharp click of the lock fall into place. As the last of the echoes died, he could move. He strode over to the table and seated himself. The food tempted him too much. Just as his hand went to tear the meat from the pig, he stopped. What if the food was poisoned? Nay, she would not be so bold as to kill me. I can see it in her eyes. She yearns for me. He pushed the notion from his mind. If she wanted him to get well, he should amuse her wishes.
Chapter 6
The snap of the shackles over his bandaged wrists throttled through the air, piercing the veil of uneasy silence enveloping the dim, acrid cell. Stepping back, the guard put a hand to his grizzled chin and admired his handiwork. "There ye go, scalawag. That will keep your filthy hands from my Queen."
Kendrick glared at the wizened man before him, dimly aware of the points of steel pricking his ribs. "Leave me, bastard. I have not the desire to be in your stench any longer."
The man laughed in hearty mirth. "Aye, I will be leaving unlike you. I know not why the Queen does not kill you and be done with it." The odiferous man spun on a booted heel and left him to his own errant thoughts.
When the last note of the lock falling into place danced about the cell, Kendrick allowed his body to go slack. I know why she does not kill me. She craves what I have to offer her. He tugged on the chains a little and found them to be sound. Damn the Castilian knowledge of iron. With sudden, silent encouragement, his heart picked up in pace and beat in a merciless fashion against the strong cage of bone. Why did she affect him this much? On any other woman, his charm would have worked. If she were not as strong, his child would be resting in her belly by now. He sighed with a deep resignation. The last time he felt this way was when Bregonia was in his life. Oh how he felt free then! What he found to be stranger was that he felt freer now. Why was that? What sort of a hold did Isabeau have on him? The excitement pummeling his body was almost more than he could bear. Where is she?
Then, as if to answer his question, the door creaked open. Soft swirls of her gown gliding over the stones mingling with the heady scent of her rose flavored perfume were more than enough to signal her presence. "I take it you have eaten well," she stated in that deep throaty purr.
His head rose. "Aye, I have, vixen. Tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of your kindness? Is it because you wish to satisfy the lust that grows inside of you?"
Her fingers danced around his ribcage as she walked around to face him. Out of instinct, he quivered at her touch. With deliberate movements, Isabeau came into his field of vision. She stood before him dressed in a gown of black silk. The rich material draped her creamy shoulders, highlighted by the yards of gold tumbling down in luscious curls and landing near her waist. Her eyes remained clear and cloudless, like the sky just before the sun rose. He drew in a breath. She was even more beautiful now than when he first beheld her. Touch me again, he commanded in his mind.
It was apparent she did not hear him. She removed her hand and stepped back, staring at him through hardened eyes. "I think not, milord. I wonder, do you think of me when I leave this chamber? Do I haunt your every waking moment?" Before he could answer, Isabeau’s slender fingers trailed the underside of his shaven chin, sending tremors of unbridled desire through his veins.
"Aye, that you do, just as I haunt yours."
The undeniable mix of desire and passion broiled into something else, almost to an expression of anger. "I think not, milord. I think nothing of you when I step over this threshold," she answered in a hostile tone as her hand shot out and gestured toward the door.
"Why are you treating me in such a manner, Isabeau? Is it that you desire me so much you must do this otherwise you could not control yourself around me?"
Isabeau’s expression deepened as she shook her head. "I do this for all of the women you have used throughout your lifetime. I want you to know what ‘tis like to be toyed with then tossed aside like a used cloth. After I am through with you, perhaps you will think better next time you take a woman."
Kendrick strained against the chains, making them rattle. "That remains to be seen, Isabeau. Perhaps you will never want for another man after I am through with you." Her fingers danced on his thickly muscled stomach, causing him to draw the flesh away from her fingertips instinctively. This girl is compelling, he thought to himself, I must have her or else go mad!
Explosions of mirth escaped from her throat. "I think not, milord. When I turn you over to your brother once your ransom is paid, I will decree your death if you ever set foot in Castile again."
He shook his head in disagreement. "I vow this, Isabeau. My child will rest in your belly before ‘tis over."
"I think not, milord. You will never get close enough to get me with child. Until you return to England, you will be chained and in this cell. If you can accomplish the feat with all these obstacles, I will commend you," she taunted as a seductive smile crossed her lips. "Are you ready to play my game?"
His sardonic eyebrow rose. "What game?"
Her hands went to his hips for a moment before roaming all over his body, awakening feelings he had thought long dead. "’Tis called ‘see but not see’. If you can guess what I am doing or where I am in the room, I will kiss you. If you guess incorrectly, then your punishment will be at my discretion. Are you ready for the challenge?" Isabeau’s voice dripped seductive promise, intended to entice and tease, making him hunger for more.
Kendrick remained silent, his body trembling inwardly. It felt odd not to be the aggressor but merely the prey this time. This both angered and excited to say the least.
She slowly removed a black silk band from between her heavenly breasts, making sure the ebony material caressed the creamy globes sensuously. His groin tightened even more, putting more pressure on his breeches. For a woman who was purportedly a virgin, she certainly knew how to use her wiles to drive him to madness.
Isabeau walked around him in an unhurried fashion, all the while letting her fingertips caress the skin around his ribcage. Kendrick sucked in his breath, curving toward her touch. When would this blissful torture end so that he could taste her passion?
Onyx fabric went over his eyes, tied in the back securely. His breathing picked up in pace, the beating of his heart pounding in excitement. What was she going to do?
"Do not worry, milord. I will not hurt you. I must return you to the Prince of Wales in good condition. I hope by my lessons, I will return you a wiser man."
"We shall see, your Majesty," he murmured low, his body hungering for whatever she dreamed up.
"Good," she purred. Slight swishes of her gown told him she walked around him predatorily. Several times she did so, to confuse him to her whereabouts. "Where am I now?"
From the sound of her movements, she was to h
is left. "Near my left arm."
"You are mistaken, milord. Therefore I must punish you." Her voice took on an almost gleeful sound. Suddenly, he felt the light sting of a reed across his back. He winced but from the strength of the strike, it did nothing more than redden the skin.
Isabeau moved again, her footsteps becoming more distant. "Tell me, milord, where might I be now?"
"Near the ventilation window."
"You are mistaken again." Her reed flew across his chest in the same manner, causing him to grimace from the sting. The already stretched leather grew even tighter around his manhood, making the pain almost unbearable.
"Stop this, Isabeau. I demand it!"
Her soft, dainty hand cupped his chin roughly. "You are in no position to demand anything! I am the retribution you so desperately need! You gave not a thought to any of the women that you have bedded, to their thoughts or their feelings. Now ‘tis time to pay for your mistake." The switch whipped harder across his back, causing him to suck in his breath from the pain.
"You will pay for this, Isabeau," he growled through clenched teeth, "and it will be a punishment you will enjoy. First, what I am going to do…."
Her makeshift whip hit his chest even harder. "Say no more, fool. Now shall we continue on with our game or shall I leave you just as you are? Hmmmm, ‘tis a dilemma."
His breathing became more ragged. He was almost to the breaking point, a position he never thought he would ever see. "Finish what you have started. I vow this, Isabeau--you will be mine, even if I must force you to marry me."
Mocking laughter echoed from her throat. "I belong to no man, milord, especially you. Now, are you going to be good so we can finish our game?"
Unconsciously he nodded, finding himself in awe of the power she had over him. The fact that he craved her touch astounded him completely. She was definitely like no other woman in creation. "Get on with it, wench. I am in no mood for foolishness."
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