Desires Promise
Page 19
A deep masculine chuckle rumbled from the other side of the kitchen, startling her. She whirled her head toward the direction of the sound, her golden braid landing over her shoulder like a flaxen rope. Kendrick’s large formed filled the monstrous doorway. He lounged arrogantly against the doorjamb, his thick arms crossed over his blue damask covered chest. Her eyes traveled up and down his well-built form. His dark breeches molded his legs and outlined his powerful thighs beneath the fabric. Her gaze traveled back to his bemused face and felt her knees weaken.
"I see Hedda is getting under your skin," he smirked as he pushed away from the wooden jamb, "but pay her no mind. I came to find you because I have something better in mind for you than the kitchen." Kendrick extended his large hand to her.
She stepped away from his inflammatory touch in order to keep from falling completely into his arms. "Leave me, milord. Hedda does not bother me." Under the coarse wool of her kirtle, her heart pounded like never before. What did not help was that she could smell that crisp, clean masculine scent that stoked her senses and belonged solely to him despite the distance between them.
Kendrick walked to her and gently gripped upper arms. The scent became stronger and she drank it in like a thirsty man finding water for the first time. "She does. I can see it. However, I am changing your duties. Come with me."
She shook her head. "Nay."
The amused expression slipped from his face and changed to one of deep irritation. "I do not ask twice, Isabeau. Come with me now or I will have no choice but to pick you up and take you there myself. Now what is your choice to be?"
Knowing it would be most pleasurable for him to do the latter, Isabeau decided to spoil his game. "All right, milord," she hissed through clenched teeth as she wiped her hands on a nearby cloth, "but I will need to be back here to finish the midday meal." The kitchen was hot, filled with the cloying scent of roasting meat and fresh bread. It was more than stifling since no breeze swept through the open windows.
Kendrick turned to Hedda with a sly smile on his lips. "I will need Isabeau the rest of the day. Get someone else to finish the meal."
Hedda cackled slightly and nodded her head. "Aye, Kendi, I will get Gardana to finish it."
With that, Kendrick’s heavy hand descended on her shoulder and propelled her out of the room toward the stairs. Her body stiffened under his tight grip. No matter what evil thing he had in mind for her, she would bear it with regal dignity.
* * * *
Kendrick pushed the ancient door of his chamber open as tenuous groans from the old iron split the still air. Isabeau’s heart beat in double time under the coarse wool of her kirtle as anticipation raced through her body. "What is it you wish me to do, Kendrick?" Her voice quivered slightly but she could not help it. He was too near to her person.
He seated himself in the enormous chair built just for him. Kendrick crossed his leather booted ankle casually over his right knee with his free foot planted firmly on the floor. His hands laced behind head as he leaned back and stared at her through heavy lidded eyes. "You will clean my chamber every day and wash my clothing. The current chamber maid is not working too well so I have decided that you will do it."
Her anxiety was replaced by a slow anger. "Why me? There are plenty of others to get to do your bidding."
"Because I want you to. Now get started."
Isabeau’s anger rose to a fever pitch as he continued to stare at her like a lazy cat watching its prey before it pounced for the kill. She capped the fury off. If he wanted to be this way, so be it. It mattered not to her. No amount of work or chores he dreamed up would ever crush her spirit.
Her glance stole around the room. Kendrick’s clothing, once pristine and clean, lay in multicolored heaps as well as his boots. The sheets were a tangled mess on the bed and the pillows were all over the floor. Why did he do this? His chamber was always neat with a thing never out of place. With an incredible amount of restraint, she kept the wrath from her voice. "You have purposely strewn your things about, Kendrick," she stated in an unaffected tone as her hands went to her hips. "So you could force me to pick them up. I will not do it and there is nothing that will make me do it."
Kendrick lowered his leg slowly and continued to stare at her while his hands came from behind his head in a dangerous motion and intertwined in his lap. "I would take care of what you say, Isabeau. Since you are one of my servants now, and I will treat you like one. You are to clean this chamber every day no matter what the condition. If I find anything of mine in your possession, you will be punished. Do you understand me?"
She stood in stunned silence and glared at him. How dare he make a statement such as that! She would never take anything of his even if he gave it to her.
"Now get started," he ordered softly.
She tossed her head defiantly, causing her braid to fly behind her and land on her back like a thick lash. "If I am to clean, I prefer to do it alone." She was not about to be watched like a child who did not know how to perform simple tasks.
Kendrick shook his head, the blue black tendrils moving in response before they settled down over his broad shoulders again. "Nay, I will watch you the first time and tell you how I like it to be cleaned. After that, you may do it alone."
She opened her mouth to emit a tart reply then quickly shut it. There was no use in fighting him. If he was so determined to watch her clean the room, then let him. She would not give him the pleasure of her anger any longer.
Isabeau let her face soften slightly and allowed a gentle smile cross her lips. She was going to teach him a lesson of her own. Bending over seductively, Isabeau picked up the discarded tunics and breeches, moving in slow motion so he could not miss a thing. She wanted him to know what he could no longer have. That would be his punishment.
Isabeau bent down and gathered the soft fold of his ebony velvet tunic in her hands when she heard his chair creak as his weight lifted from it. The dull thud of his hard heels on the flagstones rumbled through the chamber as they drew near her then stopped behind her. Large hands caressed her backside with infinite care and she jerked upwards. The sting of his touch through her coarse gown was almost more than she could bear.
"You are so beautiful, Isabeau," he murmured huskily into her ear as his hands rushed to caress her belly, "I know my child rests in your belly. Come, marry me and end your torture."
His hands brought her body against the hard line of his form as his hands continued to rub the space between her privates and navel. Tremors of wanton desire coursed through her veins and for a moment, her resolve nearly melted. "There is no child, Kendrick. My course appeared this morning," she stated flatly.
The movement stopped and his hands fell to his damask covered sides. "There is no child?"
The ring of hurt in his voice nearly broke her will but she remained staunch. "No, Kendrick. Aye, my course was late and I thought to be with child but I am not. Now let me finish with your chamber," she replied sourly as a stab of pain entered her own heart. She never wanted to hurt him in any way. That was not her method.
A strong grip encircled her waist again and drew her back to his warm, navy-clad chest where she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath the thick material. "’Tis no matter. We have plenty of time, Isabeau. I would dare say in the next couple of months," his hand returned to rubbing her belly in a soft motion, "my son will be resting here."
She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. In a way she wanted it but she was not going to be forced to marry anyone, with child or not. Kendrick was still too wild and free. How could she be sure he was not sharing his bed with another while she spurned him?
Isabeau shook her head. "Nay, Kendrick. What happened between us those days in the glen will be the last time."
Kendrick spun her around and tilted her face up. "Do not be too sure, Isabeau. Perhaps you are right. You should clean the chamber alone. Mayhap that will make you think about your words." His lips crushed hers in a fury of ardor, their tongues e
ngaged in the ancient dance of mating. The kiss lasted several long moments until Kendrick broke it. Dark orbs glared at her with a fathomless depth, filled with an emotion she had yet to understand. A slow smile spread across his lips then he turned away, stalking toward the door. With a quick flick of his strong wrist, he was on the other side, the snick of the key in the lock rising high in the air.
Isabeau sank onto the tousled bed and threw the clothes in her arms to the floor. Who did he think he was, making plans about her body without her consent? Angrily, she kicked at the pile. Nay, he would suffer for this as well as locking her in the room. She would gladly see to it.
* * * *
Gardana stared into the perfect glass sphere, her eyes locked onto the angry form of Isabeau. Damn that woman! Why could the Duke not understand the girl's refusal and leave her alone?
Tremors of anger slipped up her arms from the death grip she applied on the table. She must stop this conception or else all was lost.
Silver beakers and sconces trembled with the rumbles of fury, tinkling against the wooden top. Beads of crystal scattered from their glass holders and spread across the table in a spray of white light. The flame of the candle flickered, threatening several times to go out completely.
"Halden, come here now!" Her shout rang from the rafters of the sloppily built cottage, the exposed timbers filled with mounds of droppings. Bits of feathers flew downward and landed on her hand. She brushed them away as a scowl filled her face. Why did Halden choose to live here when he had the means for better?
The muffled gait from the other room indicated he indeed heard her call. "What is it this time, Gardana?" His gnarled hand scratched at the graying strands of his head tentatively. "I must have my rest."
His steps became miniscule as he moved, as if he could not walk farther. The deep navy tunic, heavily embroidered with the stars and the moon, hung on his bony frame and swayed in time. Gardana frowned. He seemed to age more and more every day. What was happening to him?
Without reservation, Gardana leapt from her seat and hurried over to Halden. Her callused hands wrapped around his thin bony arms and practically dragged him to the sphere. "See," her finger pointed toward the ball that sat in the middle of the table. "We must stop this!"
Halden peered into the ball and suddenly his hands moved in a magical gesture. His aged eyes narrowed then widened, as if he saw something new. "What is it, Halden?"
He waved her away. "Nothing, Gardana. As for stopping the conception of the child, there is nothing I can do. It will happen no matter what I do to thwart it."
Her heart bounced in her chest. How could Halden say that? There must be a way! Then, without warning, the way to keep the blonde woman from conceiving crept into her mind and caused a smile of pure determination sweep across her lips. "There is a way, Halden. We will poison her now before the child is conceived. Death will surely stop it."
Halden’s anger fired so abruptly she was forced to step back. "Do you not understand, Gardana? We can do nothing! It must happen," his elderly hands gripped her upper arms and she found herself surprised at the strength, "or else it will be both our heads on the block!"
"Why do you say this? Milord cares nothing for her and will not miss her at all!"
Halden released her from his death grip. "There is something I did not tell you, Gardana, that changes everything."
Her onyx colored eyebrows shot upwards. "What is that, Halden?"
"The Duke is in love with the girl."
* * * *
Isabeau grudgingly cleaned Kendrick’s disastrous chamber and performed all of her other duties as well, only to fall into an exhausted sleep each night. When she awoke each morning, she found the chamber nearly in the same condition it had been in the day before. Did Kendrick stay up each night to undo the work she did? His clothes were worse. Before her new appointment as chambermaid, he was so careful not to drop anything on them but now it seemed as though he intentionally spilled everything just to make her job worse. Was this his idea of punishment?
Dawn broke, welcomed by the song of the doves in the trees just beyond the tiny slit of a window. When the sound funneled through the curve of her ear, Isabeau opened her eyes and sluggishly blinked away the sleep. What kind of condition was Kendrick’s chamber in today? She sighed. If she were right, it would be demolished with some other tasks thrown in for good measure.
Before she could ponder anymore on the possibilities, a soft knock at the door drew her attention away. The strong edifice opened to reveal the tangle haired Hedda at the door, her customary stick buried in the thick folds of her kirtle. She leaned on it heavily. "Kendi wants tae see ye in his chamber right away," she ordered as her cane tapped impatiently against the hardened wood of the door, "so best get to it." The hollow sound seemed to ricochet through the room.
She sat up and let the slow anger course through her veins. "What does he want?"
Hedda shrugged her bony shoulders and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I know not. He sent message to me he want to see ye right away. I do not ask his business."
She lay back down and tucked her hands under her head. If he wanted to see her, it was going to be on her terms, not his. "I will be there when I am good and ready. You may tell him that."
Hedda snorted her reply and let out a soft chuckle. "Kendi also say if ye do not come, he come down and drag you upstairs himself."
Isabeau leapt from the bed and slammed her feet into the rough brown shoes next to the bed. Why did he keep on doing this? Was it not bad enough he acted like a child that he must also threaten her too? "I will be there," she growled as she slipped her remaining heel into the rough hewn leather, "but I must eat something first. I feel as though I will faint."
Hedda shook her head. "Go to him, now."
The anger was almost beyond her control. She pushed roughly past Hedda and entered the dining hall. To her surprise, Prince Edmund sat at the other end of the large dark oak dining table. His arm was slung over the back of the chair in a pose of casual elegance. She returned his gaze.
His slender form was encased in bright flaxen damask that almost matched his sun-streaked curls. A crown of gold swept across his brow. Next to his hand was a goblet, full of ale. From the look on his face, he’d consumed quite a bit already. In front of him was a plate of nearly untouched food. "Where are we off to, little Queen?" The savage mockery in his voice stoked the flame of wrath blazing inside of her.
She halted as her arms swung at her sides, the rough texture of her gown tickling the insides of her forearms. What was Edmund up to? She threw the frazzled braid over her shoulder with a defiant flip and crossed her arms over her chest. "’Tis none of your concern, milord."
Edmund laughed with a deep-seated mirth as he put a booted heel up on the edge of the table and crossed his ankles. "No doubt running off to tend to my precious brother," he mocked as he poked a piece of apple from his plate with the tip of his dagger and popped it into his mouth. "Now if you were mine, I would not have you doing menial things. Pleasure is all you would know."
She shook her head. The stray strands of loose hair floated around her head like a gauzy veil. "I am not yours, milord, nor anyone else’s. I am merely a captive here and I must attend to my morning duties."
Edmund’s heels hit the floor with a resounding thud and he rose slowly to his feet. Isabeau gazed at him for a moment and compared him to Kendrick. Edmund’s hair was full of curl, just like hers and cropped close. His build was almost the same as Kendrick’s but it was a smaller version of it. In his own way, Edmund seemed like a child while Kendrick contained the aura of true manhood.
Edmund moved toward her with a purposeful stride, his fingers trailing the scarred top of the table as he moved. Once he reached her, his slender hands stretched out and gripped her upper arms with a painful grasp. "Stay with me, Isabeau," he murmured as he drew close to her, his fingers tilting her chin up. "Do you know what it is spend a night in the arms of a future King?"
Edmund released her as though her skin scorched his hands and stepped back, turning to Kendrick. "It was not as you would think, Kendrick. The wench approached me."
Kendrick pushed his large body from the doorway and closed the distance in several of his long strides. His muscled form eased between her and Edmund, his hands planted on his sturdy hips. "I saw the whole thing, Edmund. At least have the decency not to lie," he ordered then turned to her.
Strong tanned fingers tilted her chin up and dark eyes drank in the features of her face. "Did he hurt you?" Genuine concern flooded his voice, touching her far deeper than she wanted to admit.
Isabeau shook her head. "Nay, milord. He just propositioned me. How did you know to find me?"
He drew her into the warm comfort of his arms and enveloped her into a tight embrace. "When you did not come, I came down to retrieve you as I promised. The moment I heard your voice rise, I knew something to be amiss," Kendrick murmured in a soft tone as he brushed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
He turned to Edmund as his already dark features took on a deeper hue. "Why did you do this, Edmund, when I warned you what would happen if you even remotely touched her?" A dangerous hand slid to the hilt of the ornate sword strapped to his hip as his eyes turned cold. Edmund’s gaze was equally chilled as both men continued to stare each other down
Terror sailed along her veins. She must stop this! No man would lose his life over speaking to her if she could help it. "Please, milord," she begged as her hand prevented the blade from slipping out of its sheath even further. "He is your brother. Send him away if you must but do not kill him."
Kendrick’s features relaxed somewhat as the broadsword fell back into its sheath and his hand released it. His fury-laden gaze remained locked on Edmund. "You have been given a reprieve, which you have to thank Isabeau for. However, this will be your last warning. Next time I will not stop."