Desires Promise

by Desire's Promise (NCP) (lit)

  She kept her cool demeanor as he tied the rope around her wrists. "Then what do you intend to do with me?"

  His dark brows rose in a devilish gesture as he tilted her face up. She stared into the dark depths of his eyes. "The question is, what am I not going to do with you?"

  * * * *

  Hours passed sluggishly aboard the ship bound for England. Waves, choppy and hard, pounded against the hull of the ship, adding to her anxiety. Isabeau could not sleep or eat. Her mind was constantly alive, brimming with the notion of her death as well as the welfare of Seamus and her people. What happened to them after her capture? The Duke had put her on his horse after carefully binding her wrists and had taken her to the waiting ships. He had avoided the battlefield completely so she could not see the results of his handiwork.

  Through the long ride to the sea, he had remained silent, except for murmuring a few words of seduction now and then. His breath had been warm and inviting, a melody that threatened to melt her resolve. With all that she possessed, Isabeau had managed to reinforce that wall holding all her emotions. It worked this time. How long would it stand against the barrage on her senses?

  She paced the tiny room endlessly. Was the Duke going to ravish her when she least expected it? Aye, it was possible. Silently, she wished he would just to get it over with. Surely, that is what he planned for her once they reached his shores?

  Sitting down at the table nearest the window, Isabeau stared out at the wide blue expanse, watching the sea wander by aimlessly. How easy it would be to fling herself out on those flaccid waters and sink below the gentle waves into wonderful nothingness. Nay, she could not do such a thing. Her caliber was much stronger than that. No matter what the evil Duke had in mind for her, she would burn through the travail. She must survive, as much for her own sake as that of her people.

  Soft knocks at the door disrupted her aura of dreams. Isabeau’s head whirled around, her gaze locking on the wooden structure as her heart pounded with new fear. Suddenly, it creaked open. On the other side was Kendrick with a tray in his hands. "I thought you might be hungry, Isabeau." His dark hair streamed down his shoulders like a black curtain, framing his handsome face. The armor that once covered him was gone, replaced by a fox colored tunic with matching breeches. Her breath hitched inward. Kendrick was magnificent in his dark beauty.

  Her brow furrowed as her arms crossed over her bosom. "Take it away. How do I know you did not put a potion in it to dispose of my wits so you can have your way with me?"

  Maniacal laughter escaped him. "I need no potion. If I wanted to take you against your will, I would have done so already. Now eat." Kendrick slammed the tray unceremoniously on the table, half of the contents falling off. He cast a look to the spilled food then to her, slamming the door behind him as he left. The twist of the lock in the air told her there was no hope of escape.

  Isabeau threw herself in the chair and gazed at the food on the table, her fingers supporting her chin. He was right. If his purpose were to ravish her, he would have done so by now. What was his plan?

  With cautious fingers, Isabeau picked up a piece of the meat and slipped it in her mouth, chewing slowly. It tasted normal. She waited for any strange effects to begin. There were none. Perhaps the meal was not poisoned after all.

  * * * *

  Gardana watched the light woman’s face bubble beneath the surface of the water, disappearing into a murky haze. So the little wench was coming to England! She will never live to see the light of day nor the brat she will bear, Gardana vowed silently.

  "How are you feeling today, Gardana?" cackled Halden who stood over the bubbling pot, stirring the noxious brew religiously.

  She turned and gave him a sweet smile. "I am better. The sickness is fading and I have been able to keep most of my food down. Am I showing yet?" She showed her profile, smoothing over her gown so he could see.

  Halden squinted slightly, trying to get a better look. "Nay, Gardana, but give it time. The babe will be here before you know it and you will retain your place in the Duke’s bed where you belong."

  Gardana kissed his withered cheek warmly. "In no small part due to you, dear Halden. Without your help, I would not accomplish what I must," she purred as she peered over the lip of the cauldron, grimacing at the smell. "Is the poison ready yet?"

  Halden shook his bright crimson head, scratching woefully at the straggly tendrils. "Nay, it will take a few days more. I need the blood of a stillborn babe to finish it but I have no idea where I will get it."

  Evil thoughts struck her. He was not going to have to wait long for the last ingredient. "I will get it, Halden. One of the other servants is also having a child and is due to deliver any day now. I think one small tumble down the castle stairs would do the trick."

  Halden’s eyebrow’s shot up in surprise. "Surely you do not mean…?"

  Gardana gripped his velvet tunic by the collar as he winced. "I want this Isabeau and her future child dead. There is nothing I will not do to see that happen. Now finish the potion until I give you the blood," she commanded, letting go of his collar. The more he understood who was in charge, the better.

  Halden nodded subserviently. "As you wish."

  A smile of deep satisfaction crept across her face as the hue of her heart grew to a deeper black. All of Kent would be hers in just a matter of time.

  * * * *

  The lack of movement of the ship after the last few days’ journey startled Isabeau completely as she dozed sitting with her back against the wall. Had they reached England already? Yawning slightly, she stood up and peered out the window, her hands on the small windowsill. Cool breezes swept in from the ocean, peppered with crisp scent, the salt stinging her nostrils slightly. Her gaze remained on the water, waiting for it to go crashing past. It did not. The moisture simply lumbered by aimlessly, slapping gently against the thick wooden hull. What am I going to do? She asked herself silently.

  Behind her, Isabeau heard the telltale click of the lock falling out of place. She turned sharply, pulling the edges of her armor jacket instinctively tighter around her. Sharp shrills of metal groaning against metal rose high in the air, stopping only when the door opened fully. On the other side stood Kendrick, his hands on his taut hips, glaring at her with wanton eyes. "I see you are awake, Isabeau. ‘Tis time go ashore. You are home now."

  Isabeau threw her head back defiantly, allowing a soft chuckle to escape from her throat. "This will never be my home, rogue. My only home is Castile. Take me back and I will see to it that you are handsomely rewarded."

  With a lusty smile, Kendrick entered the room, closing the door behind him with a booted foot. "There is only one reward I have in mind and ‘tis worth more than gold."

  "Then you are sadly mistaken. That is one reward you will never have." Isabeau stepped farther away from him, her eyes searching for something to defend herself with. Apparently he thought well ahead of her. There was nothing except the makeshift bed and table in the corner.

  Kendrick moved with the stealth of a cat, cornering her near the bed. Her back was against the wall where there was no where to go. Suddenly, Kendrick’s hands slammed against the wood on either side of her head, trapping her. "Aye, I will have it, dear Isabeau but only when you are practically begging me to." One dusky hand descended on her shoulder and pushed her to the bed.

  Isabeau’s eyes widened in surprise as she landed. Quickly, she tried to move out of his reach but he was too fast. With one hand, Kendrick grasped her ankle and pulled her toward him then lay his heavy body on top of hers, one hand pinning hers above her head. His sardonic pitch hued eyebrow rose. "Where do you think you are going, Isabeau?" Kendrick’s naked thumb caressed the ridge of her cheekbone softly, inflaming the waiting pangs of desire.

  Her eyes narrowed, masking the fear and making it seem like anger. "Anywhere you are not. Let go of me." Isabeau struggled slightly but quickly realized she was no match. He was so much bigger.

  Kendrick kissed the soft skin of her
neck. "You do not wish me to," he kissed her cheek then moved to her forehead, "because you want me so terribly."

  She shivered under his gentle ministrations, her body slowly dissolving in those wanton waves. "No … milord … I," she gasped, "do not want you. Let go of me!" The husky whisper that issued from her throat was alien to her. Where did it come from?

  Kendrick’s hand traveled slowly down her body, coming to rest on her flat belly. "Before ‘tis all over, Isabeau, my child will be here," his hand moved in gentle circles, inciting the flames of lust to rise, "and you will come to love me in time."

  She bucked under him. "Nay, I will bear no child of yours! I would rather kill myself first!"

  His strong hand clamped her chin, forcing her to look into the dark depths of his eyes. "I think not, Isabeau. Once the child is firmly anchored in your womb, you will be watched over day and night until he is born."

  Her anger deepened. With each passing moment, it became quite clear she meant nothing to him except as spoils of war. "Why do you do this? You care nothing for me! If you did, you would save my soul and wed me first before getting me with child!"

  His gaze drank in the features of her face, strolling over them as if to memorize every curve, plane and crease. "Perhaps I will marry you, Isabeau. Clearly, you are not a woman a man can take casually to bed."

  "Nay, I will not marry you so get that silly notion out of your head!" Wresting her hands free from his grip, Isabeau put one slender palm on his shoulder to push him away. Unfortunately, her hands were slick with moisture. The palm slipped against a raised burr of a large hasp on his shoulder, slicing the skin. "Ouch!" she cried, pulling back her hand.

  Surprise crossed his face. "Let me see it." He reached for her hand.

  Isabeau held it out of his reach. "Nay, let me tend to my wound."

  With a firm grip, Kendrick pulled her wrist toward him, gazing at the wound. "’Tis not too deep. I will need to clean it to keep any infection from rising." Getting to his feet, Kendrick pulled her to stand, holding the injured palm up gently.

  "I can clean my own wound, milord," she said through clenched teeth. When would he get the hint she wanted nothing to do with him?

  He guided her to the chair and pushed her down gently. "Wait here," he brushed a swift kiss on her forehead, "I will be back with something to clean and bandage the wound."

  "But…."

  His finger against her lips silenced her protests. "Speak no more, Isabeau. From now on, you will learn to obey my every command. You are no longer a Queen but my slave. Now sit here and be silent while I get what I need to tend to your wound." His words barely died in the air when he left. The door closed firmly behind him and she heard the tick of the lock falling back into place.

  Isabeau gazed down at her injured hand, watching the blood ooze from the wound and drip on the floor. Why did he have to do this to her? Every time he was near or when he touched her, the blood in her veins sang with joy. The flame of womanhood burned that much hotter, threatening to tear away the veil of her innocence. She shivered violently. I must be careful not to incite his lust, she told herself, or I will find myself with a child in my womb.

  What made him so different that she nearly melted at his touch? He was handsome, she could give him that but there was something else simmering beneath his surface. What was that magic potion that drew her to him?

  * * * *

  Kendrick walked up the short flight of stairs to the upper deck, his mind dandling on the sweet prize down below. How easy her capture had been. Did she not think Edmund would count on her to use the same strategic move again?

  A sly smile crossed his lips as he closed the distance to the water barrel. Before he could reach it, Edmund stepped in his path. "How is your little vixen, brother?" Edmund’s eyebrows rose in anticipation, as if his half brother wanted to hear if he had ravished the young Queen yet.

  Kendrick shrugged arrogantly. "Well, Edmund. Unfortunately, she cut her hand," he remarked mildly as he popped the lid from the barrel and dunked an empty tankard in it. The sound of the wood cup splashing into the water broke the curious silence between them.

  Edmund laughed loudly, placing his hands on his thin hips. "I guess she tried to fight you before you took her. Tell me, how was it?"

  Kendrick shook his head as he raised the tankard and replaced. "I have not taken her, Edmund nor will I until she comes to my bed willingly. Do we have cloth about?"

  "What for?"

  "I need to bandage her hand."

  Edmund’s expression changed from sheer amusement to outrage. "What do you mean? You are tending to her wound instead of letting her do it herself? You are truly mad!"

  Now it was his turn. Kendrick sat the cup on top of the water barrel as his rage rose to new heights. He took a step forward and narrowed his eyes giving Edmund his most frightening look. "She is my slave and is mine to do with as I wish. If you or anyone else," his arm swept around the deck at the crewmen dropping the heavy anchor overboard, "touches so much a hair on her head, they will answer to me in a most unpleasant manner."

  Edmund paled beneath his lightly tanned skin. "You would not! I am the son of a King…."

  "So am I, Edmund. Brother or no brother, you will not taint what belongs to me. Now as for a cloth," he reached up and grabbed a handful of Edmund’s tunic and pulled with all his might. Edmund nearly fell to the wooden deck with the force but he managed to hang on, his hands clinging to the rail hard. Thankfully, the material parted easily. "This will do nicely."

  Kendrick spun on his heel and left an astonished Edmund’s presence, the cloth dangling from his hand like a limp banner. He felt the hot daggers falling from Edmund’s eyes penetrate his back but he cared not. The jewel of Castile was his to command, use and keep near him at all times. His smile broadened as his steps quickened in pace. Ah, there was nothing like having a fresh woman again. The bodies he used from time to time were usually worn out with work or childbearing, the firmness of youth completely gone. Isabeau was a completely different woman all together. She took orders from no one but herself and stood up to him on more than one occasion. No other woman dared. Perhaps that is I am smitten with her, he thought mildly, she is a veritable complement to me.

  * * * *

  Isabeau sat silently as her mind swirled with fear, anger and the most hated emotion of all--desire. Oh how she wished he was hideous! That way she could hate him entirely and not feel so completely attracted to him at the same time!

  She leapt from her seat and paced around the room like a caged animal, disregarding the blood still running from the wound. Why could she have not had a harder heart? No one should have been able to pierce the armor surrounding the vital organ.

  Beyond the door, Isabeau heard the heavy footsteps of Kendrick, descending the stairs slowly as if to tantalize her senses. They responded quickly. Her heart pounded in her chest as each step brought him closer, her breath becoming slightly ragged.

  At the door, the sound ceased as the metal of the key connected with the lock, making a slight click. On groaning hinges, the door opened to reveal Kendrick standing on the other side, a cup of water and cloth in his hand.

  He stepped inside and closed the door, locking it carefully behind him. "I have brought water and cloth for your hand. Sit down and let me to tend to your wound."

  Isabeau stepped away from him, shaking her head. "Leave it on the table and I will tend to it myself." She held the injured hand protectively under her arm.

  His expression deepened. "Isabeau, did you so quickly forget what I told you before I left?"

  "I remember but I want you to know this. I am no man’s slave and will never be. I am commanded by no one but myself."

  Kendrick advanced in a menacing gait toward her, setting the items on the table. Before she could retreat further, his hands clamped onto her upper arms, preventing her escape. "You say you will be commanded by no one but how long will that last? I know how I affect you, Isabeau. Deny it all you wish but I h
aunt your dreams just as you haunt mine."

  "Nay, ‘tis not true…."

  A lascivious grin covered his sensual, knowing lips. "Aye, but ‘tis true. You tremble now at my very touch," he murmured as his lips brushed her forehead, sending shivers of excitement pulsing up and down her spine. The trembling increased. "In time, you will obey my every command and submit to my every desire."

  "I will not…." Her shivering increased with each passing moment, her lips quivering. Would he ever let go of her?

  The dark eyebrows arched mischievously as an excited light became more vivid in his eyes. "You will and with pleasure," he murmured as his lips burned a trail down from her brow bone, toward her cheek. "I can show you so many things, Isabeau, things you never knew existed," he whispered softly as his lips sought out hers.

  With a flurry of passion, he reclaimed her, wrapping his arm around her waist tightly. His tongue sought entry and she granted permission, her own rising need for him overwhelming her sense of duty. Her tongue danced with his as the fire inside her stoked to a full roar, the yellow-orange flames licking up the sides and threatening to consume her. Without warning, he broke away, the sweat standing out heavily on his brow. "That is just the beginning, Isabeau. When I am done with my retribution, you will crave nothing else but me. Now let me see your hand."

  Isabeau lifted her hand dreamily, as if she were in some sort of fog. In a way she was. His kiss mesmerized her so completely that she could do nothing but obey him.

  Tenderly, Kendrick turned her hand this way and that, staring at the open wound. "’Tis not so bad. The edges are clean and should heal without a scar." He tore the cloth in half, the sound of the parting material rising high in the erotically charged air. Taking one edge of the fabric, Kendrick dipped it into the cool water and dabbed at the injury. She winced slightly. His eyes shifted to her, staring out from under a dark fan of lashes. "Am I hurting you?"

  Isabeau shook her head slowly. "No."