* * * *
Isabeau stood silently as Kendrick toweled the remaining water from her skin and hair. His hands felt wonderful as they roamed her relaxed body and she nearly melted but something inside her remained stalwart and determined to keep her distance. Not too close, she reminded herself as the cloth worked its way down her belly and aroused the sensitive areas.
Suddenly, she felt his lips against her freshened skin and his tongue tantalized the area around her navel. Isabeau dissolved for a moment until her better sense reeled her mind backwards. She jerked away from his kneeling form as if she had been scalded. "Please, Kendrick, you have no right. You are not my husband." Her trembling hands remained out in front of her in a weak gesture of defense.
His eyes glittered as a dark eyebrow cocked upwards. "Not yet at least."
Isabeau shook her head as she grasped the edge of the sheet and pulled it around her in some semblance of modesty. "No, Kendrick, never. I cannot trust you with other women. How do I know another woman does not turn your head now?"
Kendrick rose slowly from the floor to his full height and towered over her. "That you will have to trust, Isabeau." His fingers slid through the damp, curling tendrils of her hair out toward the end. "I cannot tell you how much the color of your hair arouses me."
Isabeau removed her hair from his tented fingers. "Please leave me alone, Kendrick. Send me back to Castile where I belong. My people need me to free them from your father’s clutches."
A strong hand stretched outward and slipped around her waist, snatching her roughly to him. "Nay, that will never happen, Isabeau. Here is where you are and here is where you will stay. Speak no more of Castile."
"I will never stop thinking of my home while my people are in a stranglehold by the English crown! They could be starving or worse and I am not there to protect them!"
Kendrick pulled her roughly to him. "Your people know no different than they did before. Nothing has changed in your absence. There has been no rampant pillaging or killing since you came here. My father has assured me of that fact."
Isabeau wrested herself out of his tight grip and stepped beyond his reach. "The King stretches out his hand and takes what he wants, regardless of who stands in his way. How do I know he is not lying?"
"That is something else you will have to trust, Isabeau."
Kendrick pulled her back, tilting her head and plowing her lips with unabashed passion. She started to drown in the feelings he evoked but she managed to pull herself free by twisting her head from side to side. "Nay, do not kiss me!"
His hand captured her face, holding it in place tightly. "You have said enough, Isabeau. I would take great care on what you say about my father. Now," he murmured as his fingers stroked the side of her face and trailed down to the hollow of her throat. "You parade around me every day, teasing and tantalizing me no end. I’m tired of waiting for you to come to me so tonight I will make it so that you have no choice but to submit."
Terror sped along her veins. "Are you going to prove yourself by taking me against my will?" she snapped back.
A slow seductive half-smile curled the corner of his lips. "It will be nothing of the sort. I merely am going take you to the brink of desire until you have no choice but surrender yourself to me."
Isabeau writhed in his embrace in an effort to free herself but it was to no avail. He was much too strong. "Let me go!" Her fists beat against his iron like chest but it had no effect on him. He merely smiled his most seductive smile.
Kendrick’s hand stroked her cheek. "In time, Isabeau, in time. First, I want to play a game with you."
"I am in no mood for games, Kendrick," she snarled through clenched teeth. It seemed the more she tried to fight him, the more it spurred him on in his pursuit. Most men by now would have given up and moved on. Kendrick did not. Why was that?
"You will see." He picked her up effortlessly before she knew what happened and tossed her over his shoulder.
* * * *
Isabeau blinked sluggishly and was shocked to find out it was deep in the night. How long had she been asleep? Behind her, she could hear Kendrick’s deep snore as sleep took him into the dark depths of dreams. How could you let him take you again, her mind scolded silently, you swore you would never give yourself to any man.
She looked over to him. His blue black tendrils, bathed in silver from the moonlight streaming through window, skimmed his shoulders and fell to the side in an ebony pool. Gingerly, she brushed them back from the broad limb. As she gazed at him, Isabeau felt a tear form in her eye and run down the corner to the pillow underneath. I gave myself to him because I am in love with him, her heart confessed. No one had ever awakened her senses in such a manner nor provided the ecstasy he could. A smile crossed her lips. It was not as if she never had suitors before. They were young and foolish and only wanted her for her crown. Thankfully she saw through all the façades. Kendrick was different than all of them. He had not hidden his true nature from her in any way. So why could she not marry him? She sighed heavily and reached out to touch his shoulder again. Fear ruled her heart with a heavy hand and refused to let go. There would be no way she could survive if Kendrick were to parade his mistresses before her like trophies from a hunt. She had seen her mother have to suffer through that and she was not about to. Nay, if she must do something, she would rather share his bed than his name. That way, it would be easier for her to leave if Kendrick changed.
Kendrick shifted slightly and turned over on his side to face her. His eyes fluttered. "What are you doing awake?" he mumbled sleepily as a leisurely hand reached out and touched her hair.
"Nothing," she murmured as she wiped the errant tear away. "Go to sleep. ‘Tis the middle of the night."
The moonlit side of his mouth slid into a slow grin. "I cannot sleep if you cannot. I think I might have a way that will make you tired." Kendrick moved over to her and drew her into the round, strong circle of his arms.
Isabeau’s eyes widened. "Surely, not again, Kendrick! I thought you would have spent yourself after so much lovemaking today." She heard the childish giggle in her voice but she did not care. Here was where she wanted to be. The realization might have been slow but she understood it now. Perhaps in time, she could tell him how she felt.
Kendrick kissed her forehead and slowly worked his way down. "With you, I can never get enough."
Chapter 14
"What is it, Halden? What do you see?" Gardana demanded as a scarlet clad Halden hovered over his clear glass globe, which sat on a pewter stand. His aged eyes narrowed and widened as if something dire was occurring at that very moment. Her heart pounded in a fearful anxiety while her hands turned an unhealthy white from her hardened grip on the table.
Halden murmured a few inane words then turned to her. "The deed is done. The blonde woman has conceived a child." His thin arms crossed over his embroidered chest as his gaze conveyed a subtle message that there was nothing to be done.
Her rage became too much for her to contain. Taking the ball, she smashed it on the floor where the sphere shattered into a shower of fragments. Sprinkles of glass lay on the hardened stone of the floor, glittering like diamonds. The sound was deafening. "Nay, this cannot be! We must do something and do it now!" Her hands pulled at the roots of her hair in frustration. She thought Isabeau would have picked up on the gestures that the Duke was hers but apparently, the wench thought nothing of her threats. I will take care of her, she vowed.
Halden shook his head. "Nay, there is nothing, Gardana. We must wait. The Duke has fallen in love with her far faster than we had anticipated. The situation is unstable now. If you do something to her, he will surely execute us both."
Her eyes narrowed in response as her fingers clutched at the coarse gown, the material spilling between her fingers. "What will make the difference if we do it now or when she is ready to give birth?"
"Because, it will seem more natural then. She is too healthy for him not to question her death."
Ga
rdana smoothed the folds of her gown over her slightly bulging belly. "He would not execute me. I carry his child."
Halden’s laughter rang from the rafters as his hands planted themselves on his thin hips. "Gardana, you are such a fool. That is my child you carry with the intention of passing it off as the Duke’s. Tell me, does he know yet?"
Her anger boiled beneath the surface but she retained a calm demeanor. She nodded, blue black tendrils falling into her eyes where she brushed them away with an angry swipe. "Aye, he does but he is also smart enough to realize he has not been near me to accept the child as his," she growled her hands raked through her onyx colored hair and let the silky strands fall sensuously from her tented fingers. "I think in his grief over the blonde woman’s death, he will accept it. I can be most convincing when I wish to be." Languorous fingers traced lazy patterns over her breasts as Halden watched with a longing gaze. He still wanted her. Of that she was sure. Mayhap she was the only one with the true power. She wielded the power like a sword. Halden was a molten mass at her feet, willing to do her bidding at any cost.
Halden’s gaze leapt to her face. "Aye, that you can be, Gardana, but we must bide our time until then."
Now it was her turn to laugh. Mirth escaped her throat in a husky purr. "There is something I can do that will not harm her yet will drive her away from the Duke forever."
A fiery eyebrow rose. "What is that?"
Gardana’s hand pulled the hem of her gown a little higher and exposed the creamy perfection of her leg. His lecherous stare fell to the limb. "It seems the Duke made a bargain with the Prince of Wales for the Queen’s seduction. Once I inform her ‘Majesty’ of that fact, she will have no choice but try to flee or resume her duties in the kitchen. You see, Halden, if I cannot kill her now, I will cripple her emotionally. Before I am through, I will destroy her body and soul."
* * * *
Dark clouds drifted across the sky in a solid march toward Henstrige. In the distance the mountains, their tops shrouded in a misty white, took on dark hue. Even the lake before it cast a reflection of the coming storm. Trees, dotting the rolling emerald valley, swayed with the persuasion of the wind. The sound of dry leaves danced on the air and drifted in the window, their delicate green surfaces turning over in order to capture the needed rain. Isabeau shivered. She had always hated storms because they always seemed to be the harbinger of bad things to come.
She sat in Kendrick’s chair and worked on a small tapestry, glancing out of the window now and then. The strong piece of furniture engulfed her small stature. Made of the finest English oak, it was carved with loving hands and skilled fingers. Delicate leaves intertwined with the ivy that coursed throughout the wood. The back was padded and soft, covered in the finest silk as well as the bottom. She snuggled deeper. Sometimes it was easy to forget Kendrick’s size but this was one of the many reminders of it.
Leaning back in the chair, Isabeau gazed out of the window and laid the needlework in her lap. The tops of the clouds were white while the underside was almost the color of ink. She was not happy to see this storm. Seeing this, her mind traveled back to her beloved. The last time she had seen her beloved sister, Margaret, was the night of the banquet while storms raged outside. Isabeau frowned as the hazy images of Castile arose. What was happening there? There had been no news. Several times she had inquired to Kendrick about the goings on there but he simply told her that he would ask the King. That answer was not good enough. She needed to know that the King treated her people well and that Seamus had survived the battle she had lost. Deep in the confines of her heart, she knew he did survive, somehow.
She rose and threw her work into the seat of the enormous chair and wandered over to the window. There must be a way to get back to her people! They needed and depended on her. Out of rage, her hands curled into fists and pounded against the cold stone of the sill. If she was any type of monarch at all, she would have been back in Castile where she belonged and not here, submitting herself to her captor. It simply was not right.
Kendrick was out in the practice fields this morning, exercising his men. He demanded that she accompany him at first but when she pled exhaustion, he relented on the condition that their door remained locked. At first she put up a struggle but gave up. Her tiredness would not allow her to battle further.
She took a deep breath and released it slowly, the tide of her anger slowly ebbing away. Today would not be the day of her escape but it would be soon.
Isabeau turned away from the window, her hands clasping behind her back. The longer she stayed, the further away her escape became. If only Kendrick would let her return! He possessed the prize he wanted so why did he want to keep her here? There must be a way to break from the chains of slavery as well as those around her heart. As much as she did not like to admit it, feelings grew inside for him. With all her might, she stomped those seeds of feeling down but still they found a way to grow in the stony field of her heart, peeking up around the sharp rocks. That was another reason she needed to get away as quickly as possible.
A hollow rap at the door drew her attention and she peered up. "Enter," she bade. Moving back to the chair, she picked up her small tapestry and plied her needle once again.
The door opened to reveal the grim faced Gardana perched on the other side, her midnight hued hair in looped braids around her face. In her hands was a tray of a wine and cheese along with a small loaf of bread. Her ruby red lips were pulled into a nasty frown. "Here you are, wench," she snarled as she thumped the tray on the table. "Milord said you are to have this." The tray landed on the wooden table with a loud thud as the ale trembled in its wooden pitcher.
Isabeau’s gaze raked from the food to Gardana’s face. Evil resided in that dark complexion. "I would take great care in how you speak to me, Gardana. If I like, I will have you dismissed from here. All I will need to do is speak to the Duke." It was true. Even if she were Queen no longer, she would not tolerate the disdainful tongue of a servant.
The corner of Gardana’s mouth twitched. "Do as you wish, vixen. The Duke will tire of you soon and you will find yourself in the same situation since he has won his gamble." The girl proceeded to empty the tray and slammed the contents on the table.
She felt the blood drain from her face as the words sank into the fabric of her mind as Gardana turned away. Her fingers rose and touched her lips as confusion swarmed through her body. What gamble? "What do you mean?" With quiet reserve, she kept herself from screaming. Perhaps this was another of Gardana’s tricks.
Gardana laughed heartily as her grimy hands flew to her hips. Her merciless mirth echoed throughout the room. "If you only knew. It seems that the Duke and the Prince formed a gamble over you," the servant proclaimed and leaned down until she was almost at eye level. "Part of that bet concerned your seduction. Now that the Duke has won, he will have no need for you. Why, I even heard him laughing about it and bragging about his prowess."
Her hands flew to her ears to block out the unwanted sound. She knew it! Kendrick was a rogue down to his very soul and there would be nothing to change him! To think, she was going to confess her growing feelings for him! "Stop it!" she demanded of Gardana. "I wish to hear no more!"
"Oh, but you must hear the rest," Gardana smirked and pulled her resisting hands away from her ears. "Because you carry his son in your belly."
Isabeau felt of cold gush of fear wash over her and she leapt from her chair, stalking about the room at a frantic pace. Nay, it could not be true! All she had to do was think. When was her last course? In the wild spin of her mind, she calculated the days. It was more than a month ago! Why had she not known before today?
Lifting her head, she let out a hollow scream. That was why her course had not made its presence known. That also explained the nausea in the morning as well as the exhaustion. She had thought the sickness would pass and had paid it no attention. The exhaustion was another matter. If it continued on for much longer, she had planned on consulting the physician. Now t
here was no need. "Nay, this it not true," she stated plainly. If she kept denying it, then it would not be true and go away. That was all she had to do. Isabeau paced around the room to escape the wretched woman bent on destroying what little sanity she had left.
Unfortunately, Gardana was hot on her heels. Before she could get beyond the girl’s reach, a hand spun her around. She was forced to look into Gardana’s black eyes glowing with the cold evil fire of pure satisfaction. "Aye, but ‘tis true. The child was conceived the first day of your confinement. You know your course is delayed and that is the reason," Gardana glowered. The girl circled her like a predator stalking prey, barraging her from all sides. "Tell me, will your people receive a Queen that is unwed and her belly big with child? I think not. So, what do you think will happen when you are so casually tossed aside like a used rag? You will be forced to watch the parade of women sharing the Duke’s bed and suffer what I have had to these many years."
The mixture of unabashed fury and frustration became too much. Her hands curled into fists at her sides where her fingers gathered a bit of her gown and held it tightly. "Get out of here, Gardana and never speak to me again!" she ordered through clenched teeth. This was almost more than she could bear.
Gardana swept into a mock bow. "As you wish, your Majesty." With that, the devilish woman left her presence and neglected to lock the door behind her. In the distance, she could hear Gardana’s hurried steps until the sound was a dying echo in the hallway.
She sank into the chair, the deep filling cushioning her shaking form. How could Kendrick do this to her? His reputation said he was low but this was far lower than she would have ever expected.
Her fingers massaged her aching temples, as the fury became a whirlwind inside of her, engulfing everything in its path. So this was how Kendrick felt about her. So be it. Tonight would be the night she would make her bid for freedom.
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