His mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. "Good. I do not want to ever think for a moment, I am causing you pain." Kendrick dabbed a bit more, removing the bits of crusted blood from the slit. Once the area was clean enough, he took the other cloth and wrapped it around her hand, tying a small knot on the other side to keep it in place. He kissed the back of her hand gingerly. "That should hold you until we get back to Kent. My physician possesses poultices that will speed healing."
"Why … why are you doing this?"
"Because you belong to me and I take care of what I own. You will be no good to me if you are injured and cannot work."
Suddenly, her heart fell to her feet. With his pretty words and seductive smiles, he still intended to make her work like a true slave. Anger pummeled her veins. "I am a Queen and not a slave! You cannot expect me to perform all the duties of one!" How dare her lull her into a false sense of security!
His tanned finger tilted her face upwards. "I do not know what you thought you would be doing at Kent but you will work in the kitchens and perform all the duties as the rest of my servants."
"But I thought…."
"You would be warming my bed? In time, vixen, in time. Just like a new mare to my stable, you must be broken into submission. When you have completely given yourself over to me, then you will be most welcome into my bed. Until then, you will work in the kitchen and sleep with the rest of the servants. However," he murmured softly as he nuzzled her ear, his hands gripped her upper arms firmly, "there are special things to be afforded you because of your royal status."
Silent terror gripped a hold of her insides but she refused to show them to him. Outwardly, she threw her head back, tossing her curls defiantly. "What is that, milord? To bathe you or lay out your clothes? I think not. If you want me to work in your kitchen, then so be it. You may break my body but you will never break my spirit."
Amusement slipped from his eyes as though the emotion was water. "We will see, Isabeau, we will see. In the meantime," he turned away and picked up the shackles that were around her wrists when she was brought on board, "you will wear these until we arrive. I cannot have my best and most beautiful servant running away from me."
Stout hearted, Isabeau thrust her wrists out as a grin of pure determination flooded her lips. "Put them on me, milord."
Chapter 8
The ride to the castle was an arduous one despite the sunny skies overhead. Isabeau leaned her head against the wall of the cart, staring at the bright expanse. Why must she be made to suffer in such a manner? All she had ever wanted was to be alone and rule her country the same way her ancestors had done so long ago. Yet that was not good enough. England had wormed its way onto her shores, taking what did not belong to them. Why were they so relentless in their pursuits?
Isabeau let her head loll to the side and gazed out of the open structure. The brutally handsome Kendrick lumbered behind on his large anima, his gaze trained completely on her. A slow, curved grin of accomplishment swept across his face, as if he already knew what it was like get lost in her arms. Was that look to intimidate her? She shrugged in a gentle motion. If he thought her attractive now, he would most certainly need to look again. From the grimy feel of her skin, she knew she must be a sight.
Kendrick’s broad back, covered in a dark tunic, was straight and proud. Dark hair tumbled down his thick shoulders, coming to rest just below his arm muscles. Strong legs, corded with muscle, gripped the sides of the animal in a tight hold. His skin glowed with an ethereal calmness as his smile broadened. Her heart picked up in pace. I must stop this! Unable to stand the firm intensity of his stare, Isabeau turned away in a hasty fashion, her body filling with tremors of excitement. In an effort to calm her jangled nerves, Isabeau searched for something to focus on. Before she settled on something, a sharp pain shot up her arm from her hand. She gazed down. The bandage Kendrick had placed remained with very little blood oozed from underneath. Isabeau blinked for a moment, her glance lingering at the tattered bandage dotted with blood. For a rogue, he most certainly was kind. Her breathing quickened as the still corners of her mind went hazy. Would she be able to resist him for long?
* * * *
Kendrick followed behind the cart containing his prize, his face broken in half by a wide smile. Isabeau sat huddled against the side of the carriage with her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped protectively around them though keeping her injured hand tenderly supported. Warm blue eyes flicked warily around her surroundings. She was still as beautiful as when he first beheld her at the banquet. Golden hair, streaked with clotted blood, flew all around her face like a halo. I will make sure she never wants for anything Suddenly his mind filled with images of tearing away the clothing covering her exquisite body and holding her close, caressing … Do not drive yourself to the brink of madness His shoulders stiffened. It was best not to think of that now. Otherwise he would ravish her before they reached Kent. The well of passion he wished to drink from was best offered willingly and not forced.
* * * *
Isabeau felt the cart pull to a grinding halt. In a slow, methodical motion, she opened her eyes to realize dusk had fallen around the land, turning everything from a bright vibrant color to a dull gray. Her vision surveyed the area over the edge of the cart. They were definitely in a bailey. High, gray slicked walls rose nearly to the sky, sturdy and strong. Stalls of varying size and shape lingered in the stone alley. Wrought iron torches, fastened to the outside walls of the tall main door, flickered with the wind, casting shadows that danced on the silver stone. Was this Kent?
Before she could think any further on the subject, the end of the cart opened with a jerk. Beyond it stood Kendrick with a malicious scowl on his face, his gloved hands on his hips. "Get out, Isabeau. We are home."
Her anger spilled over the edge of the inner well of her soul. "This will never be my home, bastard," she hissed furiously through clenched teeth. If he wanted her out of the carriage, then she would give him no aid.
His face deepened as the wrath marched across his face like an avenging army. Then, as if to answer her, he leaned forward and manacled her wrist in a painful grip. "Here is where your lessons begin," he growled as he pulled her toward him. "When I tell you something, I expect it to be obeyed without question." The clank of what remained of her armor sliding across the board swirled in the air and mingled with the soft whinnies of the horses.
Though the pain seared through her wrist, Isabeau refused to cry out. "Never."
Kendrick pushed her onto her back with a rough hand so she was forced to stare up at him and the rapidly darkening sky. "You will, my dear," he promised in a low tone as his naked thumb caressed the plane of her cheek, sending chills of unabashed excitement through her veins. "When you do, I will show you pleasures you did not know existed. If you earn the right, I will satisfy the growing flame within you. Until then, you will work among the rest of my servants." Putting both hands on her shoulders, Kendrick pulled her from the cart and set her to her feet. Spinning her around to face him, he placed a sturdy finger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his liquid dark eyes. "What have you to say for yourself?"
Mounting fury overtook her and pushed her better thinking aside. In response to his question, she spat in his face. Drops of glistening moisture ran down his surprised face and landed on his tunic where the hungry fabric soaked it up quickly. With a deceptively calm hand, Kendrick wiped it away. "You will pay for that, little Isabeau," he snarled as he turned to a hovering, dark haired girl, thrusting her toward a strange woman. "Gardana, take her to my chamber. Bathe and perfume her."
A dangerous look crossed Gardana’s bronze face. "Why me, milord?"
"Do it," he ordered in a stern tone as he mounted his horse, urging the animal toward the stable followed by the Prince of Wales and the others. Isabeau locked gazes with the Prince of Wales for a moment until he looked away. He was slightly shorter than Kendrick and not nearly as muscled. His short brown hair, cropped close, curled in tight wa
ves. He seemed less menacing for a moment until a familiar evil smirk appeared on his lips. She shivered. Why must both of them be so evil?
As soon as they were out of sight, a callused hand gripped her chin, sending splinters of pain up her face. "Ouch, you are hurting me!"
Gardana’s anger filled eyes glared at her with murderous intent. "That is nothing compared to what I wish to do to you, wench. I have no desire to touch you much less bathe you! But the Duke has ordered me to," Gardana hissed, the grasp on her chin tightening and collapsing her mouth inward, "but I want you to know something first. The Duke belongs to me! If you think you can win a spot in his bed, think again! I would kill anyone who tried to take what belonged to me."
Isabeau wrested her chin free and returned the woman’s glare with matched intensity. "You can have him, woman! I have no desire to have anything to do with him!"
"You say that now but how will you feel in a week or a month? Aye, do not go near him. I will do what I must to keep you away from him. Now get moving," Gardana growled, tossing her glossy black hair over her shoulder. Isabeau stared at the impudent servant for a moment. Gardana was about her height but not as slender with skin kissed by the sun. Her dark eyes were round, adding to her hostile nature. Isabeau stepped back. This one woman would give her trouble during her tenure here.
With that, work-callused hands shot out and pushed her toward the castle. She stumbled at first but managed to keep her balance. This woman will not get to me.
* * * *
Kendrick dismounted his horse in an angry stride and thrust the reins to the waiting squire. Edmund, who halted a shorted distance away, strode over in an arrogant gait and removed his gloves, shoving them into the leather of his girdle. "I see the vixen still troubles you, Kendrick. Do you wish me to take her off your hands if she proves too difficult?"
His head whirled around sharply. "Edmund, you know I have never walked away from a challenge. I will break her, no matter how long it takes me to do it."
Edmund’s thin lips drew into an impish grin. "Is our gamble still a factor?"
Kendrick nodded. He most certainly did not want Edmund to know how badly the girl affected him. "Of course."
"Good. For a moment I thought the girl found the chink in your armor and you were going to rescind. I heard you order the Queen to your chamber. I take it you have a plan with her tonight?"
Kendrick leaned against the post of one of the stalls, crossing his arms over his chest. "Perhaps, Edmund. I may hand out the same retribution she handed out to me in her dungeon." His mind spun on the endless possibilities as slivers of anticipation raced through his body. How would her skin feel once it was cleansed of all dirt and blood? Would it be as soft as he imagined it to be?
Edmund’s hazel eyes danced with delight as the thought. "What exactly did she do to you, Kendrick? You never did tell me."
Kendrick stood up straight and placed a firm hand on Edmund’s shoulder. "That is something I will never tell but come with me and I will tell you my lesson plan for her."
* * * *
Isabeau shivered in the tub as the various servants clucked around her, led by the hateful Gardana, as they scrubbed the grime and blood away. Her skin was a bright pink from the rough cloth and goat’s fat soap. She grimaced. The odor of the soap was like rancid meat left out too long outside. Her belly wanted to retch but she would not let it. These people would never see her weaknesses.
Gardana said nothing except to issue a few orders now and then, hissing each time she did so. Why did the hateful woman worry so? She had not intended taking the Duke's bed at anytime though the temptation was there.
"Stand up," Gardana ordered, yanking her hair with a hardened hand.
"No."
"I said stand up!" she screamed. With angry fingers, Gardana tightened her grip and pulled upward, forcing Isabeau to stand.
Isabeau lurched forward in the hopes of freeing her hair. Her only success was in almost falling out of the tub. "Ouch, you wench! Let go of my hair!" She itched to hit the woman but with her hands still manacled together, it was impossible.
Gardana pulled downwards, bending her nearly in half. "Do as you are told, vixen, and this would not happen," she growled and turned to others. "Dry her off and bring in the perfumes." With simple nods, the other servants scurried to gather the items.
They forced Isabeau from the tub and dried her off with the waiting cloth. From its rough texture, she felt as though flame invaded every fiber of her being. Her nerves, once intact and strong, were entirely raw from this adventure. How was she going to survive this?
Her head jolted with every vicious stroke Gardana administered to her hair, her rage mounting. It seemed the woman tried to hurt her at every corner. I care not. I will get away from here once the chance presents itself.
* * * *
A short cot was brought into the room, borne between the hands of two of the older servants. They set it down near the tub and placed it under the open window. Dressed only in the thin cloth that seemed to let every nuance of chill in, Isabeau shivered as her glance darted around the chamber. The room was large, filled with coffers. Tapestries, rich in color and texture, covered the walls and took away from the gloom of the cold gray stone. Each cloth depicted a scene from around Kent. One in particular featured a small dark haired boy playing in the verdant fields with his horse. Was that the Duke?
Isabeau turned and continued to stare when an overwhelming object came into view. It was the Duke’s bed. The length and breadth of it was enormous. At just over a rod and three quarters, silk sheets covered its magnificent beauty. Ornate English-oak testers rose from the corners, carved with angels. Mounds of pillows rested at the top, covered in the same material as the sheets, and it looked completely inviting. You will never know the joy of this bed.
"Come over here," issued the harshly hostile voice.
A blonde eyebrow rose. "Why?"
Without further debate, Gardana picked up the length of chain, pulling her unyielding body toward the cot as a malicious frown grew on her face. "Lay down. We need to perfume you before the Duke arrives." The chains jerked again, the rattle rising high in the air, intermixing with the sound of splashing as the other servants emptied the semi-bloody water.
"Nay, I will not…." Before she could finish her words, several rough and callused hands lifted her and placed her on the cot, shackling her hands to the bed legs. She wanted to scream against her injustice but refused to give them the pleasure of it.
They rubbed the front of her naked body with a most delicious perfume, a mixture of wild honeysuckle and roses. Her favorite scent. After today, it would hold no more special meaning. The odor would always remind her of the day she was turned over to the lust filled Duke, almost like a lamb to the slaughter.
When that was complete, she was turned over. Warm, scented oil dripped in a gentle ripple onto her back before it was massaged into her tired skin. Long strong fingers kneaded the oil into the aching muscles. All around her, Isabeau heard the soft murmur of voices, one indistinguishable from another. Her mind drifted away with each movement of the expert fingers, her eyelids growing heavy. The only thought that remained in her mind was the welfare of her people as well as Seamus. Did he survive the battle and return to the castle in safety? Moreover, what of her people? How were they faring without their monarch to lead them?
Then, without warning, she felt something soft and warm slip around her eyes, knotting tightly behind her head. Out of the dense fog of relaxation in her mind, her senses rushed back on duty. What was happening?
"What is going on?" she demanded. The voices continued to whisper slightly and drifted away as the hands continued to work the magic on her skin.
Behind her, she could hear the distinctive sounds of breath but was at a loss to know whom it belonged to. It could not be Gardana. The woman would kill her at the first opportunity. The hands on her body moved in gentle, almost loving motions.
"I demand you tell me what is ha
ppening," she repeated in case the faceless stranger did not understand.
"Nothing you do not wish to happen." Echoed the familiarly masculine voice next to her right ear. Isabeau froze with terror as her breath and heart found new rhythms.
"Wh … what are you going to do to me?" At the sudden realization and embarrassment she was under his expert hands, Isabeau’s heart pounded furiously as the blood sang in her ears. His well oiled fingers continued to move in small circles around her upper shoulders before moving toward her lower back. Thankfully, her backside was covered.
"Whatever you wish, my dear, when you earn the right to have it," he replied in a low, seductive tone as his fingers stopped at the cloth, "Let me remove this cumbersome thing." With that, the cloth was gone. Gentle wind caressed her backside, enhancing her senses even more. Dull throbs started at her privates, rumbling through the rest of her limbs. She must put a stop to this but how could she when they trussed her like an animal?
His hands moved lower in a slow fashion, first kneading the small of her back before running over the curved hills of her buttocks, his slick thumbs caressing the divot as they slid down her thighs. Rivulets of oil ran through the creases of her body, heightening her senses. Explosions of unfamiliar desire soared through her veins like an untamed wildfire, making the will to halt him fight that much harder. Stop your wanton ways, harlot.
"Do you like my little game, Isabeau?"
With all the strength she could muster, Isabeau answered in a weak voice. "No, I do not."
"I think you lie. By the look of things, you are enjoying it quite immensely."
His hands moved back up her thigh with maddening pressure, dangerously approaching her hidden core. She clamped her legs together out of instinct, trying to protect her innocence. What would it take to make him to stop?
Kendrick laughed softly as he nudged her resistant legs apart, allowing him full access. His fingers slipped into the area where her thighs met the underside of her buttocks, searching for her core. Her inner thighs quivered.
Desires Promise Page 12