Isabeau looked down and smoothed the coarse, brown gown over the hardening plane of her belly. I will do what is best for you little one, she told the tiny being, I hope your father proves himself before you are born.
* * * *
Isabeau entered the dining hall and was surprised to see Kendrick surrounded by the rough looking nobles that neighbored Kent. Some of them possessed unkempt, scraggly hair appearing as though no soap had passed through it in a while. Others were neatly dressed though their demeanor was about the same as the rest. Jests passed about past conquests, most of them centering on Kendrick. From the shadow of the doorway, she saw his mouth pull into a smile as the rest broke out into a riotous laughter.
Isabeau pulled away and flattened herself against the chilly stone wall as the beat of her heart picked up in pace. A light sheen of sweat broke out in her brow as her breathing increased. She did not like those men, especially the vicious looking redheaded man with a thick Scottish brogue. His eyes contained a lecherous flame while his deep, maniacal laughter sent tremors of fear down her spine. He seemed the most evil of them all.
Her gaze slipped to the full trencher sitting on the butcher block. Kendrick was probably getting hungry and would be looking for her soon. She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was time to enter the den of men where Kendrick would hopefully protect her.
* * * *
The moment Isabeau’s foot hit the stone floor, all eyes turned to her. Inwardly she shivered at all the unwanted attention but she held her head high to mask any feelings of fright she felt inside. With a will of iron, she ordered her hands not to tremble.
Kendrick’s mouth curled into a lazy lopsided grin when he beheld her. "Come in, my dear. There are a few men I wish you to meet."
She nodded and closed the distance between them in mincing steps. "Here is your food, milord," she murmured as she set the tray down. Instinctively she kept her eyes in Kendrick.
"New wench, eh Kendrick?" echoed one man on Kendrick’s right. His hair was the color of mud, hanging down the sides of his pudgy face in greasy strands. The mirth echoing from his blackened mouth possessed a ring of mockery. His dark tunic was stained with what she assumed to be wine as well as the juices of the other courses given to them.
Kendrick looked up to her and rubbed her arm in lazy circles. "Excuse that lout, my dear. That is the Earl of Essex. Next to him is the Earl of Gilders," Kendrick said as he pointed to the wizened man with white hair and a lecherous leer. "Then that is Laird Ian McLeish and to round out the roguish bunch is Lord Combermere."
She nodded to the man called Laird McLeish then to Lord Combermere. "Is there anything else you require, milord?" she inquired as she threw her golden braid over her shoulder and straightened her gown.
Kendrick stared at her for a moment then let his hand slip behind her where it rubbed her backside in a slow motion. The action sent familiar tingles up her spine and lit the inner flame. "Nay, there is nothing except I wish to introduce you to the others," he murmured as his gaze swept around the men who sat around the table. "My fellow knights, I wish to introduce you to Isabeau, my future wife."
Guffaws of laughter moved around the table as the men let out their mirth. "What do you mean? Are you going to marry a servant? They are bed warmers, not wives!" Ian McLeish laughed.
Kendrick’s face did not change nor did his movements stop. "Nay, she is not servant but my captive. She is also has my child in her belly," Kendrick pronounced in a proud voice as his hand moved from her backside and rested on her belly where it patted the slight bulge.
"Still, Kendrick, a child is no reason to marry a wench," The Earl of Gilders reminded.
Now it was Kendrick’s turn to retort. He threw his head back and let out a howl. "I have forgotten! None of you were with us on the campaign so you would not know. Men, let me introduce you to Isabeau, the Queen of Castile."
Jaws dropped all around the table as Kendrick’s words sunk deep into their minds. "You are jesting, are you not, Kendrick? We heard you were successful against the Castilians but we heard not that you captured their Queen."
Kendrick nodded. "I did and it has been a most enjoyable capture," he stated and turned to her with his eyes glistening. "Has it not, Isabeau?"
The fury roiled until it was a full roaring blaze. Her breath let in and out in short bursts as the rage continued to build. How dare Kendrick show his possession of her and parade her around like some sort of trophy in front of the other nobles? She was a woman with real thoughts and feelings, all of which Kendrick refused to consider. Suddenly, her wrath got the best of her. Picking up his goblet, she dumped the contents over his head. "About as well as that feels to you." Rivulets of wine dripped down his hair and landed on his ebony tunic where it spread into a dark stain. Within moments, Kendrick’s face became a frosty mask of menace. Now he knows humiliation in front of others, she thought maliciously. With that, Isabeau turned on her heel and left for the kitchen.
* * * *
Isabeau’s fingers dug into the dough that lay in the wooden bowl with a vicious stab. Why did he continuously treat her like an object instead of a woman?
Before she could think any further, a pair of strong, tan hands circled her waist and spun her around. Kendrick’s eyes blazed with an unusual flame. His hands gripped her upper arms and pulled her close so that she was forced to look into the dark orbs. "Why did you do that?" he demanded. "Do you know how angry I am with you?"
Isabeau held her chin high. "Good, that makes two of us."
Kendrick’s scowl deepened as the grip on her upper arms increased. "I will have to punish you for this."
"Do what you must but remember I must punish you for what you have done to me."
Kendrick’s black brows furrowed in question. "What did I do to you?"
She turned around and started to viciously punch the dough in the bowl. "Showing me off like a prized animal," she hissed through clenched teeth as she returned to the bread in the bowl and began to knead it with anger filled fingers. "Then telling everyone I am with child. That is something I wished to keep between us!"
Without warning, a slight snort then a chuckle created his reply. "I suppose I deserve this, Isabeau," he replied in a lighter tone of voice as he grabbed a nearby cloth to wipe his face off, "but do not let it happen again. If you are angry with me, then tell me privately. By the time I am done begging for my forgiveness, you will forget you were ever angry with me." He dropped the cloth and pulled her to him. He slid his lips over hers and took possession with furious abandon. The odor of the wine assailed her nostrils and encouraged the bile to rise in her throat.
Isabeau’s hands pushed him away and she headed for the safety of the door. She opened it and retched in the tall patch of reeds just beyond the stout jamb. When would this sickness end?
A strong arm slipped around her waist and a cool hand held her forehead. "I take it the child is making you sick?"
She nodded. "Aye, but Hedda says it will end in a few weeks." Isabeau stood up and was pulled tight against his chest for support. She leaned her head back to stop the tumbling world.
Kendrick swept stray tendrils of her hair from her shoulder and kissed the bare skin gently. "I love you, Isabeau," he murmured huskily against her ear as his hands stroked her quivering belly. "Please marry me. If you do not love me then do it for the love of our child."
In her weakened, vulnerable condition, she nearly said yes but her better sense prevailed. "I know you have explained about the gamble but that does not change how I feel. I cannot trust you, at least not yet. Once you have proved yourself to me, then I will marry you."
"Tell me what I must do then I will gladly do it if it means you will be by my side forever."
She sighed heavily in order to calm the rising gale of nausea and her erratic nerves. "You will know when the time is right, Kendrick, and so will I. Now let me get back to my duties." Isabeau broke free from his embrace and went back to the bowl of dough. She knew Kendrick
lingered there for a moment longer and felt his intense gaze bore through her. When he finally sensed she was in no mood for any more conversation, Kendrick moved from his spot and swept a kiss across her forehead before leaving to join his friends in the dining hall.
Isabeau slammed the dough again and molded it into the right shape before transferring it the hearth all the while fighting back the tears. Why must he barrage her senses so? Her defenses were at their weakest now, caused by the presence of the baby, she assumed. She looked up and stared at the darkening countryside through the open window. How long did those men intend to stay?
* * * *
Lazy clouds drifted over the moon, half covering the ethereal white globe. The world had turned into shades of the darkest ink, gray and navy with just the right shades of silver mixed in. The wind whispered through the forest of trees to the right of the castle, causing the soft rustle of autumn leaves to linger in the air.
In the valley below was a small lake that abounded with life. From her spot, she watched the water, the darkest shade of midnight, ripple with pale light from the moon. If things were different, she would have enjoyed a night like this, riding near the water with Kendrick....
Isabeau stepped out of the kitchen and tossed the bucket of dirty water to the side. The gray water lingered for a moment before running down the hill toward the bank of rushes. Brushing the stray strands of hair from her forehead, she gazed up at the moon. How solitary it seemed as it hung there in the sky, almost as if….
"I see the renegade Queen is without her King," garbled a male voice, laced with a thick Scottish brogue, behind her. She turned swiftly to see the man called Ian McLeish staring lewdly at her. He leaned against the wall arrogantly and drank from the cup in his hand.
A dusky tunic covered his large body, stained and torn in a few places. His belly bulged over his girdle and made her want to retch again. The smell coming from him was not exactly pleasing either.
Isabeau crossed her arms over her bosom defiantly and tossed her golden braid over her shoulder. "I was just finishing my duties before I retire."
"To Kendrick’s arms, no doubt." The savage mockery and drunken innuendo in his voice raised her anger another notch.
Controlling her fury, Isabeau stepped toward the open door. "If you will excuse me, milord, there are other things I must attend to."
Laird McLeish heaved his thick body from the wall and barred her path. She glared at him and silently demanded that he move. He was not about to. Deep crimson hairs, beautiful in color but grimy in appearance, hung down on either side and framed his plain face. A wicked looking scar ran the length of his brow to his cheekbone and made his presence more menacing. He was slightly shorter, yet stockier, than Kendrick was.
Ian’s hands spread over the doorway and gripped the jamb in tight fists. "Aye, that you do. I wonder what charms you hold to capture Kendrick’s heart. He loves no woman yet claims to want to wed you. There must be something to that. Perhaps he would not mind if I found out for myself." His head lunged for hers but she was quicker than he was. She ducked under his arm and made it into the kitchen. Her heart nearly burst out of her chest in anxiety.
But before she could make a complete escape, Ian turned and gripped Isabeau by her upper arm. "Come now, ‘tis not like I can get you with child," Ian hissed as his callused hand swept to her belly. "Kendrick has already seen to that."
"You are right on that count, Ian," rumbled Kendrick’s voice from the doorway. A look of utter shock crossed Ian’s face as he glared past her shoulder. Inside, Isabeau was flooded with relief. Kendrick would save her from his hands.
Kendrick crossed the room in two strides and loosened Ian’s grip on her, throwing the thick hand to the side. "I would take care of who you accost in my castle," he growled as he pushed her gently behind him. "I suppose I should have warned you about Isabeau. Anyone who touches her other than me will suffer dire consequences. We will meet on the practice field tomorrow and I will hand out my justice. Only one of us will leave the field alive."
A slow smile spread across Ian’s face at the issued challenge. "Come now, Kendrick. No woman has ever intrigued you as much as this one. I just wanted to find out what sort of special charm she possesses. You cannot hold that against me."
Kendrick’s hand slipped to the hilt of his sword and pulled it out a fraction. The blade clicked against the leather scabbard and gave a hint that it would be used if necessary. "Aye, I can and I will," he stated as his mood changed and the sword slipped back into its sheath. The deep scowl lines softened and a smile surfaced on his sensuous lips. "I have a better idea, McLeish. Let us have a challenge. If I win the challenge, you will owe me one favor and you must do it no matter what I ask. If you win, you can have the best horse out of my stable."
Ian pointed to her. "I want the wench."
Kendrick shook his head. "She is not part of the bargain."
A red eyebrow rose. "Why not?"
"Because she is far too precious to me to gamble with. Do we have a bet?"
Ian tilted his filthy head into a nod. "Aye, the stallion will have to do though I would have rather ridden your wench." His eyes swept over to her and she looked down. Kendrick’s hand remained on the hilt of his sword as if the limb still ached to use it.
Ian went to exit the kitchen when he stopped at the doorway and turned. "For the first time in my life, Kendrick, I truly envy you. What I would not give to get in bed with her every night." With that, he left the room. The steady beat of his footsteps sounded in the dark hallway until they were just dying notes.
Kendrick turned to her and took her into the wide, strong circle of his arms, holding her close to the hard plane of his body. "He did not hurt you, did he?"
She buried her face into his clean tunic and inhaled the deep masculine scent it contained. "Nay, he did not, Kendrick, though I was glad to see you when you arrived. How did you know to come? I thought you had retired."
Kendrick’s hand stroked her hair and held her tighter against his chest. "If you must know, Isabeau, I never retire until after you do. I may go to my chamber but I always wait for a while. I come down and make sure you are asleep before I can sleep. I cannot tell you how many times I have come to your chamber and watch you sleep. I will not do that anymore, however."
Isabeau’s brows lifted in question. "I did not know you did that. Why have you chosen to stop?"
"Because after tonight, you will sleep in my chamber only. I cannot stay awake at night and wonder how you are faring. I am growing exhausted and I do not sleep well unless you are beside me."
"But, I would rather…."
He chuckled slightly then chucked her under the chin with his forefinger. "Nay, you would not and do not lie. The comfort of my bed would be most welcome to you not to mention my arms. This is enough of this foolishness. I have let you have your way long enough but now is the time to obey my orders."
Isabeau hugged him tighter. He was right. She really did not want to sleep among the servants but she fought with everything inside of her against wanting to go back to him. After this little episode, she welcomed the safety of his body. "Just for tonight. Then I must return," she murmured sleepily against his broad chest.
Kendrick shook his head. "No, Isabeau. You will return and take your rightful place in my bed. All right, you will not marry me at the moment but that will not stop me from having you with me. I want to protect you," he murmured as his hand slipped to her belly, "and our child. That is all that matters to me. I love you and will do anything for you including laying down my own life for you. I know you do not believe me now but in time you will. Come, the hour draws late and I grow weary. ‘Tis time for bed."
Isabeau sighed weakly. "I am not ready to sleep."
He smirked softly. "I was not thinking of sleeping, Isabeau."
Before she could protest further, Isabeau was swept off her feet and lifted into his mighty arms. Like a child, she laid her head in the crook of his thick corded neck and wo
und her arms around it. She closed her eyes and drew an anticipatory breath. It was going to be a beautiful night.
* * * *
Dark clouds glistened in the distance and fingers of lightning touched the earth. Isabeau’s heart fluttered in anxiety and fear as Kendrick and McLeish faced each other on the practice field. Both men, dressed in armor, stood with swords drawn in anticipation. Taunts preceded the challenge.
"I will win this," Ian jeered as he looked over to her. "I hope the wench took all of your energy." His sword was pointed at Kendrick’s chest.
Kendrick merely shook off the jesting. "I will always have the energy for you, McLeish. Let us proceed with the challenge." Kendrick’s sword swiped the air and struck Ian’s with full fury. Sparks flew as metal clashed with metal, the hollow sound splitting the air. Dewy grass crunched under their moving feet, adding to the hostile ambiance. Isabeau’s hand flew to her mouth as she watched them dance around and around, their swords thrusting then pulling backwards. Her heart leapt each time McLeish’s blade neared Kendrick.
McLeish, his hair damp and stringy, moved to the side as his thick chest heaved in search of breath. "I see you are not too worn out, Kendrick, but I will wear you out soon enough." The slim blade swiped in Kendrick’s direction and he halted it with his own sword.
Kendrick laughed despite the swelling of his own chest and wiped the damp tendrils from his eyes. "Nay, you will not. After today, you will owe me a large favor."
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