Hellion (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 7) (17 page)

"You might like it." He grinned
slowly.

"No. I will not.
Would
not." She shook
her head, growing more flustered and blaming it on the heat of the
sun, fanning herself with the wimple. "I must go back before I am
missed."

He grabbed her hand.
"Stay."

"I cannot. I will not be one of your
hussies." She pulled away and got to her feet. "We had our time,
Salvador, and it must be enough. It must."

On his knees he watched her march away
through the field, pulling her wimple back over her hair. The woman
he loved. The woman who claimed to love him, but would marry
another out of some foolish sense of noble duty.

Over his dead body.

* * * *

Gilbert was waiting for her as she
entered the hall.

"Where have you been, Lady
Helene?"

"I went for a walk in the field, to
observe the haymaking."

He stared at her with those empty
eyes, and she thought she'd got away with it. Throughout supper he
barely spoke. She asked him if the food pleased him and received
only stark, one-syllable responses. Had she not been so filled with
Salvador's warmth and her secret love, she might have felt the
storm brewing, but her mind was not as sharp as usual. Busy trying
to work out a chance to see Salvador again, she was distracted from
the reality around her.

Only later that evening, as she
stepped out of her bath and prepared to put on her nightshift, did
she discover that Gilbert's worst fault was a temper. And that it
came quickly to the fore after he'd drunk too much wine.

He came to her chamber door and rapped
upon it hard with his knuckles.

Elyce looked terrified when she opened
the door and found him there, but he shoved her aside with one hand
and walked into Helene's private chamber with his belt already
wound around his fist.

"You lied to me, bitch. Now you will
pay."

She had the nightshift only half way
up her body and his belt cut across her arms as she tried to
protect her bare breasts. It had come without warning. His temper
burst over her like a thunderstorm, cruel jagged lightning cutting
through an otherwise calm sky.

"Has he fucked you, whore? Has he? Lie
to me again and get another lash of the belt."

Helene turned away and the second
strike hit across her back and shoulder. Her maid valiantly tried
to make him stop, but afraid he would turn his belt on her instead,
Helene yelled at Elyce to leave. To her relief the little maid
obeyed without question and Gilbert kicked the door shut. He
advanced again, shoving Helene onto her back across the bed. He
ripped her nightshift down to her ankles and lashed her again with
the belt, but this time she managed to catch hold of the end of the
leather strap.

"Stop!"

He forced his free hand between her
kicking legs, forcing her thighs apart. "You'll be sorry for lying
to me, filthy slut! That bastard's been up here, hasn't he? I saw
you running after him today in the hayfield. Did you think I
wouldn't know? I could smell him on you. His spunk on you where he
marked you like his bitch."

Why
had
she gone after Salvador that
day? Of course she'd known Gilbert would see. He was not stupid.
He'd been suspicious from the moment her came and the scene with
d'Anzeray at the gate must have solidified his ideas, put him on
the lookout. But in desperation she'd had to go and see her lover
again. She couldn't bear being without him, whatever the
risk.

Suddenly the door crashed open again
and Elyce ran back in with Harold and a drawstring sack. While the
boy flung himself at Gilbert's legs from behind, knocking the man
forward and off balance, Elyce covered his head with the dirty
sack. Gilbert whirled around, trying to see, but she pulled the
rope tight around his waist, clamping his arms to his side and
rendering him helpless. Incensed he bellowed that he would kill
them all. Hands shaking, Helene reached for her knife under her
pillow, opened a half empty coffer at the foot of her bed and, with
Elyce and Harold's help, forced the prisoner inside.

Chapter
Fourteen

"Has she agreed to become a wife?"
Princesa demanded. "I thought she was an elderly widow."

The wives were confused, but he had no
time to explain everything. Not yet. "I promise my purpose will be
revealed. Now come with me. Make haste. I need all the wives
tonight."

The women rode well and despite the
darkening hour they were keen to help.

"If you are in love at last, dear
Salvador, of course we will come to your aid."

He was going to rescue his lady. There
was naught else to be done.

But when he arrived at the gate, to
his surprise, they opened for him. The guard shouted, "Lady Helene
needs help, sire."

Sal leapt down from his horse while it
was still moving and young Harold led him inside, chattering
breathlessly that he had helped capture a monster. Sword drawn, Sal
rushed into the hall and found Helene sitting there quite calmly,
with her maid, both of them perched on a padlocked
coffer.

"Thank goodness," she exclaimed. "You
took your time. We had to drag this all the way from my
chamber."

"And de Vernon is no light weight,"
her maid added.

Sal approached cautiously, sword still
raised. "De Vernon is in there." He pointed.

Helene nodded sharply. "There are
holes so he can breathe. Now what am I to do with him?"

He took a deep gulp of relief to see
her so steady and in control. "I feared the worst when the
guard—"

"I am quite capable of looking after
myself, d'Anzeray. You ought to know that by now."

The red-faced maid beside her could
not hold back. "But he raised his belt to my lady and struck
her."

"Elyce! That's enough." She glared at
Sal. "I want no recriminations. I just want him gone. Far, far
away."

Furious Sal demanded she open the
coffer. He would spill the villain’s blood there and
then.

"This is not what I want. No blood
will be shed, d'Anzeray."

He squared his jaw, glowering at the
stubborn wench. "If he raised his belt to you, I will kill him.
Whether now or later."

She remained defiant. "No, you will
not. All problems cannot be mended by the sword. When will men ever
learn?" Suddenly she must have noticed the wives who had entered
the hall behind him. "What's this?" she exclaimed, eyes
wide.

"Reinforcements," he said with a slow,
menacing smile.

* * * *

"Eighty-year-old crone, indeed!" One
of the women muttered, throwing Salvador a frown as she passed him
and came to where Helene sat on the coffer. She introduced herself
with a polite curtsey. "I am Princesa." She was petite with golden
hair, her skin almost translucent, her beauty angelic. "You must
allow us to help you with your...prisoner."

Helene looked at the woman who was so
small and delicate in appearance. "What will you do with him? He's
a large man and has a foul temper." They could surely hear that for
themselves as he was banging hard on the inside of the coffer and
swearing violently.

"Oh, you'll see," said one of the
other women. This one dark haired, tall and slender, her skin a
rich, earthy shade. "We'll soon sort him out." She took a vial from
her cloak and slipped the contents— tiny brown seeds— into a
shallow wooden dish. "Stand back," she warned softly. "Cover your
noses."

Helene and Elyce stood aside and
watched as the woman crushed the seeds in the dish. A cloud of
smoky odor was released and wafted, with the aid of a feather,
through a hole in the coffer. Within seconds the noise under the
lid faded away.

"He is resting now," the woman
whispered. She crushed more seeds and repeated the motion, while
the other women quietly introduced themselves.

Helene knew who they were of course.
The d'Anzeray wives—the infamous harem.

"Now he sleeps deeply," said the woman
with the fine, exotic skin. "I hear him snore. Come ladies. Time to
remove him from his prison."

Suddenly, Sal grabbed her arm and led
her away. "Let them deal with de Vernon. They know what to do."
They went outside together. She tried to tug her hand away, but he
refused to let her go.

"People will see," she
protested.

"I care not. Let them see."

Of course he didn't care, she mused;
he had no reputation to lose. "What are your wives doing in there
with Gilbert?"

"He will wake with a head ache, but
he's fortunate I didn't impale him on my sword." He turned his head
to glare at her. "Why did you come between me and
justice?"

"Because I don't want his blood
spilled for me, and I don't want trouble for you. If he is killed,
the king will not be able to ignore your behavior this time. De
Vernon is an important man and powerful. Everyone thinks him above
fault."

He swore. "Well, he'll be a dead man
if I get my hands on him."

"For pity's sake is there anything I
can say that will make you see sense and stop all this
chest-thumping, Salvador d'Anzeray?"

His steps halted and he turned her to
face him, clutching her arms with both gauntleted hands. A little
breeze stirred the hem of her gown and her wimple. "Yes. Say you
will marry me and then I might not feel the urge to slice de
Vernon's neck open."

Oops, she should have seen that one
coming.

Fortunately she was saved from
answering, because another new arrival rode into the yard and
distracted them both.

It was Dom, dressed in monk's
robes.

Helene was still trying to understand
what they were up to, but when Dom dismounted and Sal advised him
to give the ladies a moment longer before he went in to disturb
them, she finally realized their game.

* * * *

Gilbert de Vernon would forever after
declare that he couldn't remember what had happened to him that
night. His mind, he said, was oddly foggy and he claimed to have
lost all the events of the past several hours. But he had begun to
regain consciousness by the time a man in monk's robes entered the
hall and found him sprawled, naked on the floor with six young
women stretched all over him.

"My Lord de Vernon!" the monk
exclaimed, shocked. "What can be the meaning of this?"

He gazed around at the pert breasts,
rosy bottoms and pretty pussies of half a dozen women and couldn't
somehow get his tongue to work. Limply he raised his head from the
fleece but it dropped back down again immediately when he saw his
cock rearing up, dark and lusty.

"Are you ready to go again, my lord?"
one of the women cooed as she reached for his balls.

The monk crossed himself. "I suggest
you put on some clothes, de Vernon. And then you had better come to
confession."

"But I have nothing...I did
nothing—"

"That poor, chaste young widow. What
did she do to deserve such a man as you pressed upon
her?"

Gilbert saw the other faces of people
who had entered behind the monk. A few guards and farm-workers from
the estate looked down on him disapprovingly as he lay there naked
and helpless under the women. Not only that, but some of his own
men were there, looking on in shock and shame.

"This is a trick," he bellowed, but
his voice broke as a hand gripped his balls tighter. "I don't know
how they did it, but 'tis a trick. I haven't... I know I
didn't..."

The monk pursed his lips and shook his
head. "I cannot allow this marriage to continue without a full
confession. You are not the man I or the king expected."

"She's the one who must confess,"
Gilbert warbled as breasts descended upon his face from all angles,
pushing him down again. "She's...she's..."

Helene feigned a very ladylike faint
and was hastily carried to her chamber where a strong cup of wine
was required to revive her. With the "monk" at her side she wrote a
letter to her king, declining his offer of a husband and explaining
the horror she had witnessed. Although she would willingly serve
her king and marry where he decreed, she could not bring herself to
submit to such a man as de Vernon. Let her be pilloried, she wrote.
Better that than marriage to a man without scruple.

Gilbert de Vernon soon found it
expedient that he leave. He did not want the missive delivered to
King William and Dom —dressed in those monk's robes— assured him
that it would be, if he did not withdraw his claim to Helene and
her land. The d'Anzeray wives all ran out to wave goodbye to
Gilbert, blowing kisses and laughing.

He set his grim face away from them,
shouting that they were wicked temptresses who would all soon go to
hell.

"We'll see you there then," shouted
Princesa, waving.