Enchantress (11 page)

"Jesamyn," he whispered her name, his
breath tickling her shoulder, "keep the bracelet."

But how could she? He had never given
it to her. He gave it to the good twin. "No. It's ugly. I don't
want."

"But you kept it all this
time."

"So I could give the stupid thing back
to you if I ever saw you again."

He surprised her when he laughed
softly. "I am glad you kept it. I am glad we found each other
again."

"I am not glad."

"Nonsense, wench. You like
me."

"I do
not
." She turned her head away but
his kisses continued to assault her skin, making her hotter
still.

"You like me," he whispered teasingly.
"You just don't like that you like me."

"I hate you! And I hate your
bracelet."

She was the one at whom men tossed
spare coins. They did not gift her with silver jewelry to remember
them by.

He spread his thighs between hers,
forcing her to take him in again, his mouth on her breast now,
licking a circle around her nipple.

"I hate you," she groaned again. "I
don't want your stupid bracelet."

Nino chuckled and closed his lips on
the taut, deep pink bud, suckling gently as his manhood filled her
aching pussy. They had overused her— he and his brothers— but what
did that matter now? Their semen was all over her, inside and out.
They had bathed her in it.

But she could still hate.

He could kiss her and tease her all he
wanted. She would remain immune.

Chapter Eight

"Are you going to keep her?" his
brother Dominigo asked the next day. "She'd make a good
wife."

Nino looked askance. "What makes you
so sure of that?"

"She is entertaining, pleasing to look
at—"

"And pries into people's heads," he
snapped. "She'd be a bad influence on the other wives. There is
something about her I don't trust."

Dom laughed gruffly. "You seemed
enchanted with her last night."

And why was that? In a bad mood that
morning he had mulled over it— over this power she held to distract
him, blur his thoughts and make him into a wild beast. Since the
moment he laid eyes upon her in that tavern he had not been himself
at all. He felt...broken into somehow. It was as if she slipped
inside him like a thief. He was certain she would soon slip out the
same way she had slipped in. And he didn't know if that was good or
bad. What would she take with her when she left?

"You know, Nino, the other wives think
you're keeping her. That's the only reason why they didn't complain
about last night. They assumed she's to be one of us."

"That's not my fault."

He thought of the bracelet and how she
had kept it all those years. Yet she claimed not to remember him or
his kisses. At first she had claimed they never met. Why say that
when she had his bracelet in her leather bag all along?

It made no sense.

She said she had seen him in the cards
and knew he would not harm her. But the cards had not reminded her
of their past meeting?

As his mind churned over what little
he knew to be solid fact, it became more obvious to him that she
was not telling the truth. About anything.

There had to be a reason why she was
in that tavern on the same exact night that he was present. A
reason beyond sheer coincidence.

These feelings she had started in him
were not convenient or comforting, therefore they were
bad.

A good wife? Dom must be mad, he
concluded.

She had no womanly tenderness and her
temperament left much to be desired. Look how rude she was to his
own father! The woman must have a death wish. Well, no surprise
there, since she made her living entering crowded taverns alone,
taking her clothes off and fucking strangers.

What sort of wife would she make? He
shook his head. Not any sort of wife a man could trust to behave
herself.

Nino had enjoyed one and twenty years
of a fairly free and easy life, coming and going as he pleased,
never becoming too attached to anyone or anything, and never
keeping worries for long. He'd never been sick, never fallen for a
pretty face without swiftly picking himself up again and dusting
off, never felt regret or the need to apologize for anything. Never
had cause to think too deeply about another person's motives. He'd
seen his brothers trip and fall in love. But he would escape the
injury because he knew how to roll downhill.

His father was right; she was
dangerous.

So he went to find her, determined to
get answers before he threw her out on her beautiful
behind.

* * * *

Sister Marie-Angeline was in the
distillery, gathering ingredients for another of her medicines.
Jesamyn approached cautiously and volunteered her help.

"I know something of the apothecary's
art," she said. "I should like to be of assistance while I am
here."

The elderly nun eyes her thoughtfully.
"Would you indeed?"

"If I can."

"He won't have you at his bedside. Not
after yesterday."

Jesamyn sighed. "Yes. I spoke
rashly."

"You spoke honestly." The nun laughed
softly. "It was most amusing."

"You knew he was not
dying?"

"Of course."

She stared in surprise. "You too can
see inside the man?"

Sister Marie-Angeline sniffed. "I
don't need to. I gave birth to him."

Jesamyn did not know what to say. She
watched the woman go on with her work among the jars and bowls. It
seemed so strange for a devil like Guillaume d'Anzeray to have a
mother. Any mother. Let alone one that was a nun.

But, of course, he was a boy once too.
Like his son. Again she pictured a dark, curly-haired boy running
through a sun-filled meadow, the fragrance of lavender thick in the
breeze. A little boy laughing and happy.

Oh, why did she have to keep seeing
that image? She did not want to think of Nino as a cheeky-faced
boy.

"Don't stand there gaping, girl. Pass
me the salt. He hates the taste of it so I use plenty. The worse it
tastes the stronger he thinks the medicine."

Amused she obeyed. "Why do you tend
him?"

"It is a mother's duty."

"But he is not sick." She fidgeted
with the bells around her wrist.

"He may not physically be ailing, but
someone needs to keep an eye on him. Who else would do it for such
a man?"

Jesamyn thought of the poison seeds
she kept hidden inside her bells. Now would be the perfect time to
open some, break them into the old villain's "medicine". But Sister
Marie-Angeline was watching, her eyes sharp. "Why are you here,
girl?"

"Nino brought me here." She spoke as
if to defend herself, although she had not yet been accused of
anything. "I did not want to come. I was forced."

"Were you? Strange. I thought you had
come here to kill my son and his family."

She stepped back, her heart beating
too hard.

"Don't bother trying to lie. Who sent
you? That old pig Herallt?"

"I did not—"

"You're not the first who has tried,
you know. How much did he pay you? Not as much as he should, no
doubt. That crook!"

Jesamyn was silent, staring at the old
nun. If this woman knew, why had she not told the
others?

Abruptly the other woman broke into
croaky laughter. "Ah, your face! Priceless. It was only a jest,
girl. Pass the cinnamon, if you will."

With a slow, shaky hand, Jesamyn did
as she asked, trying to keep her expression composed,
stoic.

"I don't suppose it would surprise you
to know this, girl," the nun muttered, "but there are many who
would want to see my son in his grave, many who would pay a high
fee to have him dispatched to his maker. With me at his bedside
they'll have a harder job, eh?"

Slyly she shot the old woman a quick
glance. "Yes."

"I brought the bastard into this
world," the nun added with a sigh. "If anyone takes him out again,
it ought to be me, after all I put up with."

"I'm sure he was a very difficult
son."

"Is there any other kind?" Sister
Marie-Angeline placed her bowls on the tray. She looked and
Jesamyn, at the bells around her wrists, and shook her head. "The
d'Anzeray male is worse than most. You'll find out one
day."

"Me? I have no sons. And no intention
of bearing any. Least of all a d'Anzeray."

"Yet," said the nun, crisply. "I once
said the same thing, with an identical expression on my face too no
doubt." She carried her tray out of the room, leaving Jesamyn to
stare after her in horror.

She didn't know if she could believe
that the nun had joked with her. Was it meant to be a warning? If
so, her time was running out. Desperate, her eyes scanned the many
jars and bottles on the shelf. She slammed her wrist against the
table to break one of the bells and out spilled two wizened brown
seeds. She had just dropped them into a mortar and grabbed a pestle
to crush them when a hand touched her shoulder.

"What are you doing in here,
woman?"

The pestle slipped from her hands and
fell to the floor. Jesamyn turned, leaning back against the table
to obscure his view. He stood with hands on his hips, glaring
suspiciously.

"What are you up to?"

"Looking to drop poison in your
father's medicine, of course," she replied, chin in the
air.

"Very amusing. Come." He half turned
away, clearly expecting her to follow at once.

She folded her arms. "I will not be
summoned like a dog."

Nino looked at her again, his face
exasperated. She expected to be shouted at, cursed at. Instead his
shoulders relaxed. "Please come with me, Jesamyn. If you
would."

Warily she stepped closer, but kept
her arms folded. He nodded, gestured at her to walk ahead of him,
and they left the room together. She wondered if he meant to send
her on her way now with a purse of money to pay for her
services.

But again she was to be startled, for
he brought her outside into the yard where two horses were waiting
and saddled. "Will you ride with me?"

She stared at the big animal. "I do
not know how."

"What?"

"I do not know how to ride a
horse."

He looked perplexed.

"I never learned," she added. "I can
sit on one, but I don't know how to make it move, or
stop."

Suddenly he smiled. "I will have to
teach you then."

She scowled fiercely. "Why
bother?"

"Because we want you to stay. We want
you to be our wife."

* * * *

He hadn't meant to say it. The damn
words came out without warning. Now, there they were, in air
between them. Until that moment he didn't even know he'd made his
mind up.

Slowly she unfolded her arms. She was
quiet, just staring at him. As if he'd told her the worst news a
girl could ever want to hear. As if he'd just sentenced her to a
public stoning, or something similar. Despite her sun-browned skin
she turned pale. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, her lips puckered
and stiff.

"Will you stay?" he asked.
Again he was cross with himself. Why ask her? He should simply have
told her that she
would
stay. She was a woman and should do as he
commanded.

She fiddled with the bells
around her wrists. "You said
we
. What about you, Nino? Do
you
want me to stay? You
have a mind of your own, don't you?"

He walked up to her, letting the reins
of his horse slip away through his gloved fingers. "I do... have a
mind of my own."

Her eyes narrowed and she pressed her
lips even tighter.

"And yes. I do." He grinned. "Want
you. To stay."

"Because you like to fuck
me?"

"And because I like to argue with
you."

She moved around him and stroked one
hand along his horse's neck. The animal turned to sniff her. A
little breeze picked up, moving her black hair, tangling it with
the horse's mane. They were the same color, he realized. Both
warhorse and woman were beautiful creatures, powerful, strong,
noble.

"I am told you will make a good wife,"
he said.

"For all of you?"

"Yes, of course."

She appeared to consider, still slowly
petting his horse. Then she looked at him again. "Your father does
not agree."

"He will, eventually." He
hoped so. His father wanted rich brides brought into the family,
but he'd have to take what he was given. Besides, this woman
was
rich, with strange,
mysterious talents.