Desires Promise

by Desire's Promise (NCP) (lit)

  Edmund’s anger flashed in his pale skin. "Next time, I will not let you. I thought nothing could come between our kinship, including a woman," he growled as he glanced over to her. His stare dripped daggers. "Apparently I was wrong. I think I will return to London. When you tire of the wench, come and visit me." With that, Edmund spun on an angry heel and left the dining hall.

  Isabeau breathed a sigh of relief. Kendrick turned to her and embraced her. "Are you all right, Isabeau?"

  Her heart pounded in her throat as the full brunt of the almost disastrous situation coursed through the sea of her mind. Thankfully, she had been able to stop any needless bloodshed. "I thought you were going to kill him for merely talking to me." Out of instinct, her hands traveled up his back and held on tightly, the hardened ridges of muscle standing out under her fingertips. She buried her face into the soft fabric and inhaled the wonderfully crisp male scent clinging to him. For whatever reason, this provided some sort of comfort to her. Why?

  His hand stroked her tangled hair, tucking the stray tendrils behind her ear. "Nay, I would not. Edmund is angry now but it will not last long. It never does." He pushed her away and tilted her face up. "Come with me."

  Suddenly, the entire reason for her being in the dining hall came to the forefront of her mind. "What do you want me to do?"

  "You will see."

  She pulled away from him as her former anger mounted again. "If you have messed your chamber, I refuse to clean it! I know what you have been doing!" she cried as she stepped further away.

  His raven’s wing hued eyebrows drew together into a frown. "Are you going to come quietly or must I take you there myself?"

  Isabeau remained staunch. "Do what you like."

  * * * *

  The thickness of his shoulder dug into her belly but she refused to cry out. Even when he hoisted her up and put her over it, she said nothing. She was not going to lend him a hand in anything.

  At the door, he opened it and entered, slamming it shut behind him. Bending slightly, he set her on her leather clad feet. She gazed around in a quick motion, expecting to see the room demolished. It was not. The coffer lids remained closed, their cachet of clothing still packed away neatly. There were no boots, girdles or breeches on the floor or pillows. She looked to the bed. The sheets were more tangled than usual, as if sleep had eluded him as well. Good. The satisfaction of knowing he slept as little as she did made her heart feel better.

  She held her chin defiantly high. "I see you have had a change of heart, milord. There is nothing for me to clean up today with the exception of the bed."

  Kendrick lowered himself into his chair and stretched out with his booted ankles crossed together. His hands were on his flat belly, intertwined in a web. "Perhaps but I have something better in mind for you."

  "What is that?"

  "You are going to bathe me."

  She bit her lip in order to stop the whirlwind of emotion that started in her brain and threatened to explode throughout her body. If she did not melt before, surely the sight of his naked body would do the trick. "You usually bathe alone, Kendrick," she offered.

  A devilish smile crossed his lips. "Not today." His head turned to the scraping sound in the hallway. "Here is the tub." He leapt to his feet and directed the wooden tub’s position. Once it was set in place, servant after servant emptied buckets of steamy water in it. Ribbons of heat swirled around the tub and looked most inviting. Most days, all Isabeau could do was wash the grime from her skin with a basin of water and a cloth and dream of a delicious bath.

  The last pail was emptied into the rest of the water with a resounding splash. With that, the servant bowed and left, closing the door thoughtfully behind.

  Kendrick gazed at her through intent eyes as his hand swept toward the warm, water filled tub. "This could all be yours, Isabeau. Marry me and all you wish will be yours." The seductiveness of his voice barraged her senses far deeper than she wanted to understand.

  Isabeau drew a deep breath in order to calm her jangled nerves. "I cannot marry you, Kendrick. You would tire of me in less than a fortnight and seek another to warm your bed. Nay, I could not withstand that." She placed her quivering hands behind her back so they did not give away her anxiety.

  Kendrick’s hands encircled her slim waist and crept up to toy with her nipples, bringing them to a ripe fruition under the coarse material. She gasped slightly as wanton desire rose to sear her body.

  "If you must know the truth, Isabeau, I want no other," he murmured with his lips dangerously close to her own. "You haunt my every waking dream and thought. One way or another, you will marry me. I care not how long it takes or what I must do."

  His kiss swept across her lips, feathery and light at first then turned to rigid passion. Kendrick’s tongue slipped between her lips and played with hers, inviting it to dance. His arms circled her body and held her close. Through the thick material of her kirtle, she felt his manhood stiffen. Tremors of delight and desire burned through her body like never before at the feeling. Before she could stop herself, her hands went around his thick neck and toyed with the silky ebony strands.

  Just as she delved into the swirling pool of emotion, Kendrick broke the kiss. "Now ‘tis time for my bath. Undress me." His eyes glittered with a strange, inner glow almost as if the emotions blended one into the other.

  She stepped away from the confines of his arms. "Anything else but this, Kendrick. You do not need me to bathe you."

  "But I want you to," he murmured softly as his hands grasped her wrists and brought them to the fastenings of his tunic. With his urging, she undid all of them in a dreamy oblivion and swept the velvety material from his bronze shoulders. The fabric fell into a soft heap on the floor. Kendrick sat down in the chair and held his foot out to her all the while his gaze remained locked onto her. With shaky hands, Isabeau removed the boots and set them neatly next to the chair like warriors standing at attention. She stood up. Now came the much more difficult part.

  Kendrick pulled up to his full height and brought her hands to the waist of his breeches. Around his firm waist was a strip of leather holding them up. Her thumbs trailed over the beaten silver buckle as if she could not decide whether to continue on. In a way, that was what she was doing. If she went further, her body would demand his touch and win the battle. She was a helpless captive of desire.

  His fingers guided hers and slipped the thin leather out of the buckle, letting it fall to the floor with a soft clank. Kendrick’s hands brought hers back to the top of his breeches, urging them down in a slow, sensual manner. Rich, dark material slipped tantalizingly down over his well-muscled thighs, pooling at his feet.

  Isabeau could not stop her gaze from ravaging his body. He was truly magnificent. She trembled slightly and stepped forward to grasp his hand when he brought her hard against him. "I want you so badly, Isabeau," he whispered huskily into her ear as his hands stroked her body, firing a new round of emotion. "Let me end this aching we both feel." His manhood felt hard and rigid against her belly, tempting her far more than she thought.

  "Nay, Kendrick. I cannot marry you and you cannot enjoy me without it. Please, let me bathe you and get it over with. I have many other duties to attend to," she replied flatly though inside she wanted to cry out at the ecstasy brewing inside of her.

  Surprisingly, Kendrick released her. "If that is what you wish, Isabeau." He laughed as he chucked her under the chin playfully. "Then that is what you shall have. Remember this, you belong to me whether or not you share my bed."

  With a resigned sigh, Isabeau waited until he entered the tub to lather the cloth. It was going to be one long morning if the previous activities were any indication.

  Chapter 13

  Isabeau’s heart resumed a normal pace once the pale tunic slipped over his shoulders and covered his tempting body. Her breathing was somewhat labored with him this close in proximity but it would return to normal when she was out of his presence.

  She straightened t
he exquisitely embroidered hem and stood up. "Is there anything else you wish me to do, milord, before I resume my duties?" He remained silent as he gazed at her so she took that as nay. She turned to walk away when a strong hand manacled her wrist.

  Kendrick shook his damp head as he drew her resisting form toward him. "Nay, there is not but I have something I wish to speak to you about." His voice was soft and low, tantalizing her senses far more than she could control.

  What did he want to speak to her about this time? The talk of marriage had run its course this morning. "What is that, milord?" She grew weary of the constant battle. Why would he not understand there would be no wedding?

  He lowered himself into his sturdy chair and stared at her with a devilish look. "Do you remember when I said that since you are content acting as a servant, I would treat you like one?" Long tanned legs, peppered with silky black hairs, stretched out before her and crossed at the ankles. His strong fingers laced together and went behind his head. What could he possibly be thinking?

  She nodded. Everything he demanded she do, she did. "Aye, I do. What does that have to do with now? I have done all you have asked."

  Kendrick exhaled a slow breath. "Nay, you have not. I was looking around in my chamber the other morning for a particular item and strangely I could not find it. At first, I thought I misplaced it but as it turns out, it was missing."

  What was he talking about? All she did was merely pick his discarded clothing and boots not to mention straightening the bed. "I do not understand, milord."

  His sensuous lips curled into a half smile and strangely delighted her senses. "Well, ‘tis simple. My mother’s brooch, given to her by my father as a token of his love, was missing. I inquired amongst the other servants and no one claimed to see it. That is except young Molly."

  Terror screamed along her veins. She shared the room with Molly and sometimes they talked late into the night but she never imagined Molly would take something from Kendrick. What was he going to do to the poor girl? "Why would Molly take such a thing?"

  Kendrick laughed deeply. "Molly did not take it. You did."

  Her body shook as ripples of anger rumbled through her stiffened form. "Nay, I did not! Molly is lying! I would never take anything of yours!" Callused fingers curled into fists at her sides. Why was he accusing her of something she did not do?

  His right ankle crossed over his left knee this time and gave her a tantalizing look at what was under his tunic as he leaned on the two back legs of the chair. "Molly does not lie. She has been in my employ far longer than you and I would think I know her better."

  Her heart thumped uneasily as she swallowed hard. "Where did she find this so called brooch?" she demanded furiously.

  Kendrick’s eyes narrowed as his gaze remained locked on her, the predatory look into the dark depths. "Under your pillow where it was left. Come, confess and all will be forgiven."

  Isabeau shook her head slowly as her arms slipped together over her bosom. Kendrick was completely mad. "I will not confess to something I have not done," she stated sternly as she held her ground before him.

  She watched as Kendrick let his chair fall forward. A dull thud echoed through the room. "Then I will have no choice but to punish you, Isabeau. Since you have taken something of mine, I will take something of yours."

  Her hands unfurled and hung limply at her sides. What more could he take? "The only thing I had of real value you possess already so there is nothing more I have."

  "Aye, and what a sweet possession it is," he murmured as he rose from his chair. "There is something else you have." His naked feet crossed the cold gray flagstones in several long strides and manacled her wrists, drawing her to the hardened line of his body. The masculine scent of him was like a strong potion, drawing her into it and dulling her senses.

  Her eyebrow rose. "What is that?"

  "Your freedom."

  She stood there for a moment in utter shock. What did he mean? She was his captive already so how much more freedom could he take? Then, out of her own anxiety, Isabeau’s voice erupted in laughter. "How do you mean to do this? My freedom is gone so there is nothing else for you!"

  His hand circled her waist and he pressed her deeper into the curve of his form. "I mean to have it all, Isabeau, every morsel of you. Every night, you will sleep here my chamber. Each day, wherever I go, you will also. There will not be a moment when you will not be by my side."

  She felt the stunned disbelief cross her face in tides. What was his purpose in this endless pursuit? "Why are you doing this to me?" she demanded as she fought back the tears of humiliation.

  "I warned you, Isabeau. Take something of mine and I will take something of yours. Now," he replied as his gaze raked over her servant’s gown and pinched a small piece of the rough, dirt grimed material between his knowledgeable fingers, "this will simply not do. Since you will be at my side at all times, I cannot have you dressing like a servant. I will order gowns to be made for you. In the meantime, you may wear some of my mother’s old ones."

  She turned away to eradicate the tears of her defeat. If he continued on much longer, he would crush her spirit completely and force her to take her own life. Death was much more preferable to a miserable existence. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him again. "I do not understand why do you do this when you care nothing for me?"

  His fingers caressed the soft plane of her cheek, searing a path where it traveled. "I do care for you, Isabeau, far more than you know. All my life, I have never wanted something without getting it. Now I want you and ‘tis you that I shall have."

  Isabeau hung her head for a moment as the reality of his words sank in. He cared for her? More importantly, was he in love with her? "Why me? I am no different than any other woman that has warmed your bed."

  His finger lifted her chin. "That is where you are wrong, Isabeau. No other woman fires my blood as you do. I have no desire for any other, just you. Why is that so difficult to understand?"

  "But, your reputation…."

  Strong hands cupped the shelf of her jaw with certain tenderness. "Perhaps ‘tis time to let it die. Come, have a bath. You are looking pale and tired."

  Isabeau tilted her head in a solemn nod as she sighed deeply. Exhaustion had ruled her body the past few weeks, wearing down her ability to fight him. She looked down. Her hands looked thin and worn not like the dainty limbs she once possessed. "There is no need, milord, I can…."

  The pressure of his finger on her lips pushed her to silence. "No more protests. I will bathe you this time."

  * * * *

  Within the hour, a fresh batch of water arrived, steamy and perfect. She watched from her place on the bed as bucket after bucket of water splashed against the wooden boards of the tub, ribbons of moisture rising high. When the final one went in, the last of the servants entered, bearing a long cloth and a cake of soap. The strong clean scent of the lye mixed with scented oils was enough to tantalize her senses and draw her back to a time where unhappiness was unknown to her. She had lived at home, happy and content with her father and Margaret, long before the wretched war came to Castile’s shores. She frowned. The thought of Castile caused her eyes to mist over with tears. What was happening to Seamus and her people? Since the King of England had seized her crown, he could do what he liked with Seamus and the rest of the country. She could not stop him. Images of death and destruction rose in her mind like a horrific nightmare. Instead of Kendrick bathing her, she should fight him and get back to Castile as quickly as possible despite the demands of her body.

  Kendrick rolled up his gilded dark sleeve and dipped his naked elbow into the water when the servants left. A smile crept across his lips. "’Tis perfect, Isabeau. Off with the gown."

  Tiredness settled in her bones like an unwanted visitor. Perhaps she should have kept walking around the chamber to keep it at bay. She sighed with weak resignation. "I am so tired, milord. I do not think I can do it." There was defeat in her voice and she hoped he did not h
ear it. Her defenses were too low to keep it from coming out.

  The devil-may-care look leapt into his eyes. "Then I will do it for you." Without a further word, Kendrick slipped her gown over her head. The coarse material fell to the stone floor without a second thought. His hands brushed the stray tendrils of hair out of her face and slipped behind her, undoing the strands knot by knot. Once it was free, his fingers brushed through the pale curtain, fluffing the curls out all around her. "Does that feel better?"

  She nodded. "Aye, it does feel better already."

  A warm, sensuous smile crossed his lips as his fingers tilted her head up. "This is just the beginning, Isabeau. I promise to take care of you and any children you bear me to the end of my dying day."

  She looked away. Children were simply not part of her plan, now or ever. Why could he not understand that? "Please, milord, I am too tired...." Her knees weakened, refusing to hold her up any longer. She would have collapsed had it not been for his strong arms around her waist.

  "Here, let me put you in the tub." Kendrick stated as he bent his large form and swept her with ease into the curve of his arms. She did not protest. It was simply not her will to do so.

  Delicious, warm water slid up her limbs and she sank into the blessed moisture until it reached her neck. Obviously the tub was made for someone of Kendrick’s size. It was about a rod and a half long, far longer than she needed it to be. The inside was rubbed so smooth it was almost like resting on glass. Several bands of iron bundled the wood together, so tight that water was not able to seep through the cracks. She leaned against the back as the aches flowed out of her muscles. This was one luxury she truly missed.

  The sound of lumber scraping across the floor jerked her from her dreaming. Isabeau whirled around to discover Kendrick pulling up his chair to the end of the tub. "What are you doing, milord?" Her hands clasped the opposite limbs as if to protect her unclothed body from his sight. Then they fell. He had seen her naked before. What made now any different?