Anger rose inside of her like never before, heating the flesh of her cheeks. Damn him and all his charms! She swore silently. Isabeau drew in a deep breath, trying to calm her erratic nerves. I can get through this, she told herself, without hesitation and without falter.
She put her fingers on the cold ring and attempted to push open the door when she stopped. Was this what she truly wanted to do? Dispatch him before she tasted more of what he had to offer?
* * * *
The vicious foot kicking his leg was more than enough to bring him out of the sleep where Isabeau haunted his dreams. "Get up, ye! The Queen wants to see you!"
Kendrick sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from his weary eyes. "Where? Is she coming here?"
The old man shook his graying head. "Nay, scalawag. Ye are lucky enough to see her in the audience hall. Now get up and move!"
Thick wood caught him across his naked back and Kendrick fell forward, his breath ragged. "Hit me with that again, old man, and you will find out what ‘tis like to have the very breath squeezed from your body," he growled as he pushed himself from the moss laden floor where the ooze squeezed up between his spread fingers.
"Get on with ye!" This time the elderly man’s foot connected with his backside, nearly kicking him out of the cell door.
He turned to administer a few blows with his fists when a blade caught him by the throat. "You hurt the old man and you will pay with your life, scoundrel," the voice hissed.
Kendrick lowered his fists. "You may have won this round, troll but you have yet to win the battle. Now take me to the Queen."
* * * *
Huge Castilian iron doors opened, letting a gust of fragrant air envelop him. Sweet perfumes of honeysuckle, roses and wildflowers caressed him gently. It was her scent. Kendrick hesitated for a moment, drawing in every ounce of fragrance he could before they pushed him through roughly with the end of a pike. This was definitely worth waiting for.
Her audience hall was large enough to accommodate five hundred people easily. Heavy oak beams carried the weight of the ceiling above him while brilliantly colored tapestries decorated the walls, depicting life around Castile. Slowly his gaze descended over the scene before him. Toward the back was a high backed ornate throne, decorated with semi precious stones. Dwarfed in the immense chair was the Queen of Castile. His breath caught. Her perfect body was encased in a suit made of black armor. Flaxen hair cascaded down on either side of her face, framing the angelic countenance. Gold, formed in a perfect circle, topped her head, giving her an ethereal glow.
Her gloved hand motioned toward him. "Come closer."
Kendrick moved in his usual arrogant stride, coming to stand before her, his arms crossed defiantly. "What is it you want of me, Isabeau?’
A blonde brow rose. "Kneel before me."
"No."
She leapt from her chair and walked down two of the four steps, drawing her sword. "I said kneel, Lord Kent. I am a Queen and as such, I deserve the respect you would show your own King. Now kneel." Bright flushes of crimson emerged from her slender neck, rising to color her cheeks, reminding him of the roses growing wild near the curtain wall at Henstrige. They were beautiful as well but had hidden thorns. Would he have to look for thorns in her?
He noted the look of bewildered desire flickering behind her eyes. Isabeau had him in her power but that would certainly not last long. When I have her in my power, she will bend to my every whim and desire, he vowed silently. Perhaps he should humor her, at least for the moment. Without further hesitation, he knelt before her.
Her sword slipped back into her sheath with a soft clink. "Now that is better, milord, is it not?"
"What will be better, Isabeau, is when you are in my arms. Your naked flesh pressed next to mine…."
The expression on her face darkened. "Enough! That will never happen!" Her hands clamped over her ears in a childish move, as if to block out the very sound of his voice.
Kendrick rose to his feet and advanced on her with the stealth of a cat, catching her by her upper arms and pulling her hands away. Strangely her guards did nothing to help her. Did she warn them not to attack him in advance if he touched her? "Aye, it will, Isabeau. We both know that. ‘Tis only a matter of time until it happens."
The stormy tide of anger broiled behind her eyes. "Nay, it never will because I am turning you over to your brother today!"
His dark eyebrow rose in question. "What do you mean?"
Isabeau wrested herself from his surprised grip, stepping backwards out of his reach. A sly smile spread across her lips. "That is correct, Lord Kent. By sunup, I will be with you at Cantilles Field. Your brother is to be waiting for you, ready to pay your ransom. If he does not arrive by sundown, I will have you executed and send your head back to your father," her gaze raked over his face casually. "Do not be so surprised, Lord Kent. I can be a cold woman. Did you not know I was the Ice Queen?"
The sly laughter in her throat both angered and incited his rising lust. I will melt that ice façade if ‘tis the last thing I do, he told himself. Stepping forward, he placed a long finger under her chin, tilting her face upwards. "You do not mean that, Isabeau. Underneath this metal," he placed a hand over the breastplate, "beats the heart of a fiery woman. You are not cold but quite the opposite. You possess the fire every man wants to have consume him." Before she could protest, he took possession of her lips with an impassioned flurry, drinking in the flames of her desire. At first, she resisted, holding her lips tightly together. With infinite expertise, his tongue danced on the corners, requesting entry. He continued his assault until she was forced to give in. Impatiently, her soft, plump lips parted, allowing him to explore the cavernous regions of her mouth, inviting her tongue into play. Desire pulsed along his veins as never before, his heart ready to burst with emotion. Before he could stop it, his manhood reacted as well.
Her tantalizing fingers danced around his neck, twining in his hair and pulling gently with a maddening pressure. His arms wound around her body, the armor feeling distantly cold against his chest. The only thing that mattered now was that she was in his arms and near the melting point….
Suddenly, she paled and pulled away. "Please … milord … leave … me," she gasped, "and never return here again." Isabeau signaled her guards. "Take him and dress him in his armor and put him on a horse with his hands shackled. We ride at the moment dawn presents itself."
Several strong hands gripped his upper shoulders and tried to propel him backward but he resisted. "Deny you felt anything, Isabeau. Deny it and I will never kiss you again," he promised, knowing she could never confess to an untruth.
Stiffly she stood there but he could tell from her stance, she did not want him to go. "Aye, I felt nothing but revulsion for you, Duke of Kent. Be gone with you. The sooner this ghastly business is over with, the sooner I can resume my duties."
"You lie."
Her lower lip trembled. "I did not lie!"
He nodded slowly, his gaze raking her body over and over. "Aye, you did, Isabeau. You want me so badly yet you deny yourself all the pleasure I can give you. Why do you do so? Is there a reason you wish to punish yourself so badly?"
Soft trembling took over her entire body. "Go and do not come near me again," Isabeau cast her eyes past his shoulder to her waiting guards. "Take him and put him on his horse. I will join you shortly."
Rough hands clamped down on his naked shoulders and pushed him away from Isabeau but not before he issued one more promise. "You will be mine, Isabeau. This I swear by the blood of my ancestors. By this time next year, you will have my son in your belly."
Low, throaty laughter escaped from her throat. "I think not, milord. After today, you will never see me again."
Before he could say anymore, he was drawn from her presence and dragged down a narrow hallway to a smaller room. Kendrick drew a deep breath. This was one fight he was ready to take on.
* * * *
Isabeau slumped into her throne, her head in her ha
nd. How could she have allowed him to kiss her again? Did she not realize every time they kissed, it only deepened her need of him? She shook her head. Nay, she could not be alone with him any longer, plain and simple. After today, though, it would be an easy vow to keep.
Deep in the recesses of her mind, Isabeau reflected on the kiss. Passion flowed from his every pore and she delighted in its feel, wanting to feel the full brunt of the emotion. Oh what it would be like to spend a night in his arms and quench the growing thirst inside of her! Deep inside her heart, Isabeau knew it would not be possible. Kendrick may end up owning her body and soul if lovemaking ever occurred. That was one thing she must never allow to happen.
Chapter 7
Dark clouds pervaded the sky, marching across it like an avenging army. The sun remained hidden behind the blackened balls of moisture. Isabeau cast a weary eye toward the horizon, waiting for Prince Edmund to ride through and reclaim his brother. Where was he?
"Do you think he will come, my Queen?" Seamus’ voice echoed over her shoulder.
She nodded. "He will if he treasures the Duke. Are all the men in their proper positions?"
Seamus tilted his head. "Aye, milady. The Prince of Wales and his army will not know what hit them."
"Good. As for him," she murmured through stiff lips as her arm swept toward Kendrick, "kill him the moment it looks as though we will be defeated."
A startling red eyebrow rose in surprise. "Is that wise, milady?"
"I care not. All that matters is that England knows we will not go quietly into submission."
Distant sounds of drums pervaded the wind sweeping through the field, rising high over the rolling ridge before them. Edmund is coming, she told herself, and I will be ready.
* * * *
Row after row of metal encased foot soldiers marched down the verdant hill in perfect formation, their steps in time with the drums. Behind them rode Edmund with his pale crown perched high on his fox hued head, the gold of his armor overshadowing all else. His back was straight and tall, as if he had not a care in the world. Did he not realize he was heading into battle?
Edmund halted his horse a short distance away from hers. He bowed his arrogant head. "Your Majesty. I have brought what you asked. May I see my brother?"
With a slight gesture of her two forefingers, Kendrick was pushed forward. With a strong gait, he walked before her horse and turned around, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and anger. She held his gaze, her heart pounding at the intensity. The air seemed to leave her lungs as she continued to stare at him. Her inner core hungered for more of his touch as her gaze raked his body. He was certainly a sight to behold.
Raven hued hair swept his brow, falling below his shoulders in a black cascade. A broad form greeted her, narrowing down to a strong waist. She went even lower, shivering slightly. The bulge beneath the metal where his hips joined was a taste of temptation she found hard to resist.
"I see you are no worse for the wear, brother," Edmund chimed in, breaking her train of thought completely.
Kendrick spun on his heel. "That I have, Edmund. Rest assured, the Queen took care of me very well and I do mean very well." The emphasis on the last syllables caused her anger to rise. How dare the Duke insinuate she had done more than torture him?
Her cheeks heated with her ire. With a wave of her hand, Isabeau stopped all conversation. "Enough, rogue. Give me the ransom and go back to England where all of you belong. After today, it will mean your death if you ever set foot here again."
An impudent smirk covered Edmund’s thin lips. "I do not think so, Queen Isabeau. After today, Castile is ours." The subtle tone of his voice told her something was terribly amiss.
Her eyes searched the hills for her hidden men, hoping they were still able to react on her signal. "I give one warning and one warning only. Leave here now or it will," her arm raised in gesture, "be your heads going in a basket back to your father." Isabeau lowered her arm quickly. Her men should destroy the scoundrels where they stood.
* * * *
Plumes of smoke rolled through the battle-laden valley and marched across the plethora of moving bodies. Isabeau watched from her position on the hill until she could take it no longer. The English had the upper hand and she could not let that happen! Blood pounded her in her temples as her heart pounded in anxiety. Now was the test. Could she be a true monarch to her people? The answer was a resounding yes!
Isabeau drew her sword from her sheath and dug her heels into her horse’s unarmored flanks toward the middle of the battle. She was not about to let her men fight without her!
At the thick of it, her sword clashed with the enemies’ blades. Sounds of agony rose in the air where her blade struck with blood flying out to coat her hair and armor. The hot coppery smell of the spent fluid made her belly turn but she pushed it away from her mind. This was no time to think of herself.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of black and turned to see it. Her heart leapt in her chest. It was the Duke of Kent sitting on a chestnut colored horse before her, his sword slashing her people left and right. Gore coated his armor and face but it was undeniably him. Suddenly, the fighting cleared, leaving them alone on the gore filled field.
Isabeau drew back and raised her stained blade to strike. The Duke, apparently sensing her presence, thrust his sword up, stopping hers. Sparks flew from where steel struck steel, sprinkling the fighting throes with their heat. Her heart pounded as the air in her chest seemed to hold in her lungs. She locked onto his face with a heated stare. There was no way in the world that he would ever defeat her.
A devil of smile curled the corner of his full lips. "So we meet again, little vixen. I see you are still decreeing my death. How long is dance this going to go on until you realize your destiny is to be at my side?"
Isabeau held her head high, keeping the tension strong on her blade. He was not going to best her. "Until you are dead or learn your lesson, whichever comes first," she growled through gritted teeth.
Kendrick pulled back, exposing his chest for the tip of her blade. "Then kill me if you have the heart." The sound of assurance that she would not raised her ire even more. Why, she could do it without thinking twice about it! She raised her blade to thrust when the fighting shifted, bringing the sounds of steel back toward their positions. Isabeau made the mistake of turning her head toward the sound. With the swiftness of a cat, Kendrick ripped her blade from her hands with his own, throwing it to the side all the while grabbing a hold of her horse’s reins and drawing the animal close to his. His glove hand manacled her wrist. "I see you have no heart to do me harm, Isabeau. Otherwise, how would you satisfy the hunger that grows within you?" His breath was warm and soft next to her ear, sending shivers of delight up and down her spine.
She turned to face him. Perhaps he was right or she would at least let him think he was. "You are right, Lord Kent," she purred softly as her gloved fingers trailed under his stained chin, "I am hungry but for not what you think. Please take this in remembrance." His lips parted as if he waited for her kiss. With that, she took the heel of her hand and shoved it with all of her might underneath his chin while simultaneously taking her foot and kicking him from his horse.
Kendrick fell to the ground gripping his chin. "You will pay for this, Isabeau," he growled as he rose. "Rest assured, I will be the victor of this battle and you will be the spoils." He started to mount his horse. "That means you will be mine to do with as I see fit."
She grabbed the reins of her horse and urged the animal backwards. "That is only if you can find me." She dug her booted heels into the horse’s flanks and headed toward the thicket. The Duke of Kent would never be able to find her in those woods that she knew all too well.
* * * *
Isabeau dismounted and shooed the animal into the woods. It was best that she remain on foot. The horse would only slow her down. She made her way through the dense foliage with thorns and hard stems tearing at her face. Through it, she hear
d the hurried sounds of hoof beats that encouraged her pulse to scream along her veins. Isabeau crouched low in the verdant sea of the thicket, her breath labored. She did not want the Duke to find her here.
She knelt down, listening for the telltale signs of the horse. Distant whinnies echoed through the brush as well as a few well-placed soft English curses. He was here. She let out a reluctant breath. Once he left this part of the woods, she could re-join her regiment and continue to wage war with the dogs of England.
"Look, ‘ere, we got us a little wench to play with!" The accent was thick but unmistakably English. She remained stock still until she felt the cold steel of a blade press against her neck. "Get up, ye wench! We wanta’ look at ye!"
Isabeau drew in a ragged breath and rose, turning around slowly. There were three soldiers in all, forming a semi-circle around her. She kept her calm on the outside while inside she was terrified. What was she to do? Her hands went to her sheath and found it empty. Damn Kendrick! He threw her sword away from her hands in the middle of the battlefield! "What do you want with me?"
The oldest of the three stepped forward, dropping the point of his sword down. "Here we wanna ‘ave a little fun with ye, woman. We din gonna hurt you, much." Evil laughter ricocheted around the circle of trees, encouraging the birds to flutter all around her. Leaves, torn from the trees showered down as they started to advance on her.
"If you touch her, it will be your last," commanded the familiar voice. She turned. Kendrick stood behind her on horseback, his sword pointed at the three rebel soldiers.
"I’m sorry, milord. We din mean no harm to the lady."
Kendrick dismounted and stalked over to her, gripping her upper arm in a painful hold, drawing her close to his armored chest. "The girl belongs to me. If all of you treasure your hides, return to the battlefield at once."
"Aye!" they chimed in unison and fled the thicket.
Suddenly, she was alone with Kendrick. Her delicate wall of reserve threatened to crumble with the proximity of his very presence. "Let me go," she demanded.
Kendrick shook his head as he drew out the rope tied to cantle of his saddle. "No, Isabeau. I have no intention of letting you go."
Desires Promise Page 10