Lord of the Blade (19 page)

Corbett’s face remained stone-like. Devon
stepped around him, heading back to the kitchen. His hand lashed
out and grabbed her by the arm. Trying to break his stone grip
would be like trying to break free from the shackles of a dungeon
wall. As her eyes studied his hand, she realized he wasn't going to
let go until he got what he wanted, and slowly she raised her eyes
to his.

"That is better." His voice calmed. "And you
will not walk away before you have been dismissed."

As he slowly released his iron fist, she
found herself instinctively rubbing her arm, although it didn't
hurt.

"With all due respect, Lord Corbett, may I
return to my chores now?”

"Aye." His tone was weary, and there were
circles beneath his eyes. He rubbed his shoulder and she wondered
if he’d yet recovered from the attack. Either way, she told herself
she wouldn’t have pity for a man like him.

"You will continue your chores without
conversing with anyone,” he explained. “You would receive
punishment if my order is disobeyed. When the evening meal is
prepared, I will expect you to bring my venison along with extra
wine to my chamber. And do be sure to be prompt about it," he
warned, "for I like my food hot!”

Chapter
13

Corbett finally arrived at his solar after a
full day’s responsibilities and a lengthy conversation with the
baron's brother, Cedric. The man was satisfied to know his journey
to Steepleton had been fruitful. His brother's health was
improving, and no more attacks had happened since he’d assigned his
own men to watch over the forests. He’d also seen the castle's
small supply of meat, and insisted his archers help in the hunt to
help build up the dwindling reserve.

As Corbett entered the solar, the bath maids
were being supervised by Delwynn as the last bucket of hot water
was poured into the tub. They stopped their duties to pay
respect.

"You may leave now," he motioned to the
maids, and they quickly scurried out the door.

"Will you be needing me to tend to anything
else, my lord?" Delwynn sprinkled herbs in the water to help ease
the smell of the strong soap.

"You know I prefer to tend to most my needs
myself." Corbett understood it was the squire's job, but often
liked his solitude.

"Then I would return tonight to watch so the
maidservant does not try to escape." He motioned towards the far
side of Corbett's bed, pointing out the two pallets pushed
together.

"That will not be necessary." Corbett
escorted him out the door. "I do not believe she will want to
leave. I suggest you sleep in the great hall tonight."

"Yes, my lord," Delwynn answered, sounding
disappointed as Corbett closed the door.

"This bath is long awaited, and I am not
sorry to miss the meal in the hall." Corbett spoke to his raven
which was perched on the basin near the window, dipping its head
for a beak full of water. Corbett removed his jeweled girdle which
contained his sheathed sword and tossed it onto the bed. He then
sat next to it in order to remove his boots.

He found his thoughts shifting to his
episode with Devon and DeBurgh’s daughters. She’d ruined his chance
of marrying a qualified lady, and he’d done nothing to reprimand
her.

Corbett struggled with his boot, as it too,
seemed to defy him.

"That rude, irresponsible, arrogant wench!"
The raven quickly flew out the window to escape the flying boot
that almost broke the basin. Corbett followed the path the bird had
taken, letting out a bottled-up roar into the crisp night air,
before closing out the cool breeze.

"Who does that woman think she is?" He
pulled off his tunic and flung it wherever he pleased. The rags
that bound his wound followed. They were not even soiled, and he
was surprised at how quickly the healing salve Devon used on him
had worked.

Devon again. No matter what he thought
about, the girl controlled his thoughts. His hand caressed the baby
ring that hung on a chain around his neck. If only his father, or
mother were here to talk to right now. Or perhaps one of his
siblings. He looked to his sword lying on the bed, seeing the
etched symbols of four small interlocking rings carved into the
blade. Orrick’s magic had seen to it. As soon as the midwife said
his mother would birth twins, the old sorcerer told Corbett, the
four interlocking rings were a symbol of the four siblings being
brought together. His hopes had been carved on the blade that day,
but he knew now they would never manifest in this lifetime. He
never felt so alone.

He moved too quickly, and a pain shot
through his shoulder, reminding him of his rebellious servant. That
only fed his anger.

"I am lord of this castle, and she shall
treat me like none other." His breeches and hose added to the
scattered trail as he quickly made his way over the cold floor to
sink into the warm water of the wooden tub.

"Doesn't she know I have to bring her to
trial soon?" He took the soap and rubbed as hard as he could to
help vent his emotions. He quickly dunked his head under the water
in a feeble effort to douse his anger. Then scrubbing the soap
brutally into his scalp, he contemplated a way to tame the brash
woman. A way that wouldn't include locking her up and throwing away
the key as was now being mulled over in his brain.

"Aye," he continued talking to himself. "She
will do whatever I order if she values her life and the decision I
have to make." Once more he dunked beneath the water, not only to
clear the suds from his scalp, but also the cobwebs of confusion
from his mind. Coming to the surface, he scarcely heard the soft
knock before spying Devon as she entered the room with a covered
platter of food, a single goblet, and a large flagon of wine.
Corbett sank lower into the tub, an involuntary reaction.

"Oh, I am sorry. I did not realize…" her
face blushed and she turned back toward the door.

"No. Stay!" Corbett found himself not really
knowing if this was a command, or a plea.

"I could come back when you are done with
your bath." She now talked to the door.

"I like my food hot." There was no way she
was going to defy his orders, even if he wasn’t very threatening as
he sat naked, covered up to his waist in suds and water. "Bring the
tray of food to the chest by the bed.”

For once, she didn't argue. It was probably
because she was too embarrassed to speak. Yes, this would be a good
time to remind her that she was only a servant. Before the night
was over, he was sure he would have her eating out of his hand.

"I could use help scrubbing my back, as my
wound is healing nicely and I do not want to jeopardize it."

"I do not think I could."

"Your expertise in healing does not go
unnoticed."

She must have taken it as the compliment he
had meant it to be, for she walked to the tub but kept her eyes
away from the water.

"A hot bath can really help to relax a
wearied mind." He handed her the bowl of soft soap. "Don't you
agree?"

"Yes, my lord." The feeling of her gentle
hands on his back brought a warm sense of arousal, reminding him of
what they had started earlier that day. Suddenly, his thoughts of
anger turned to thoughts of lust. If he didn’t have her soon, he
would bust.

"'Tis a shame people don't take the time to
enjoy a bath more often."

"Yes, my lord." Then silence.

"This tub is big enough for two, you
realize."

She stopped scrubbing and he could no longer
feel her light breath on the back of his wet neck. Then ever so
slowly, she moved her hands once again over his skin.

"What is it you are suggesting, my
lord?"

"I am merely stating a fact, that sometimes
a lord and his lady bathe together."

"Well, if I must remind you," her voice
quavered, "you do not have a lady."

"True. And if I must remind you … I have you
to thank for that."

"I have no intention of crawling into your
bath, if that’s what you propose." Her voice hardened as she
reassured him of her uncooperative nature.

“Is that what you thought I suggested?" He
laughed.

"What amuses you so, my lord?"

"I would never," he mused, "even consider
bathing with a mere servant girl."

She threw the soap so hard, the water
splashed up into his face. Struggling to stand, her intention to
leave was clear. He gripped her arm before she could proceed.

"Unless you want to," he continued.

"I would never agree to that
suggestion."

"Unless I ordered you to," he rallied.

"You would not dare!" Her cheeks colored,
and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever fantasized of bathing
together. He did.

"Never dare a naked man who has nothing to
lose." With a quick tug to pull her closer, he pressed his lips to
hers, then dropped her into the water. She dunked under, then came
up sputtering for air.

"You wretched, no good - "

He stopped her words as he muffled them with
yet another kiss. Only this time, it lingered. Her tense body
relaxed, and her arms came up around his neck. Her clothes were
soaked, and clung to her curves, outlining her hardened nipples. He
hardened below the water, needing to feel her closer. He pulled her
onto his lap, but when her hand accidentally discovered his full
arousal, she jerked away from him

"No,” she said. “I will not have everyone
thinking I am nothing more than the castle’s whore." She quickly
exited the tub.

DeBurgh’s words came back to haunt him.

“You were the one who told everyone you were
my leman. What did you think it meant?”

She stood facing him, her woolen dress heavy
and wet, her hair dripping in rivulets down her chest. She had that
little pout on her face again, and Corbett couldn’t help but want
to kiss it off. Then when she shook her head, water splashing
everywhere, he almost laughed, envisioning one of Sefton’s hounds
after a flea bath.

"I will not submit my body to someone who
sees me as a mere token of lust."

"You are dripping on the floor." His voice
remained calm and he prided himself on the fact he was so well in
control of his emotions.

"Damn your floor And damn - "

She quickly ceased her barrage of curses as
Corbett stood in the tub to match her words, not caring that he
exposed every part of his naked masculinity before her. He’d not
sit there and listen to a lady using language only suited for a
man. Especially when it was directed toward him.

"You would not speak to your lord in this
manner, now or ever!" he shouted. "You would act with the respect
that is required of a servant."

Her mouth hung open as her gaze was fixed
below his waist.

"And bid the devil, how many times do I have
to tell you to look in my eyes when I am speaking to you?"

She quickly turned around and held her hand
to shield his view from her eyes. Corbett thought it best not to
reinforce the last command at this time, and reached for a towel to
throw around his waist. Devon remained quiet and still. Corbett
grabbed for the extra towel to dry his hair, but changed his mind
as he noticed Devon was shivering. Quietly, he approached her and
held out the dry towel.

"Here. Change out of those wet clothes."

Her eyes opened wide as she took the towel,
obviously misunderstanding his intention. He walked over to the
bed, pulling the large velvet purple curtain half closed.

"You can change here. I will be on the other
side of the room.

"But I haven't another garment."

He walked over to his clothes chest and
lifted the lid. Choosing a white tunic, he flung it towards her,
and it landed on the bed.

"You can wear that," he mumbled as he turned
back to the chest. "I never wear it. 'Tis an awful color."

He hurriedly threw on a black one himself,
and matching breeches, but no hose or shoes. As he rounded the
corner of the bed, he stopped in his tracks, spying Devon's bare
backside. She was on her knees, spreading her wet clothes by the
hearth to dry. Her bare bottom was firm and rounded, and he could
see a thatch of auburn hair peeking from between her inner thighs.
Her full breasts were round, her waist tiny. He could think of
nothing but tasting every inch of her and burying himself to the
hilt inside her tightness.

He felt a tightness of his own, and looked
down to see his manhood pressing against his breeches. He turned
away, straightening his tunic, hoping to hide his protruding
form.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and brought
his tray of food within reach, hoping to take his mind off
coupling. But he knew the hunger within would never be satisfied by
a meal from the kitchen.

Devon finally pulled back the bed curtain
and strolled over as she rolled up the enormous sleeves. Corbett
could see her cold, pink nipples showing clearly as they protruded
beneath the thin white material.

"I guess I don't hate that color as much as
I thought." He grinned as her eyes caught the line of his gaze,
realizing exactly what he meant. She quickly pulled the front
lacings tighter, and folded her arms over her chest.

"You are wearing black again?" she asked
snidely. "How morbid."

"Black is not morbid. And I don't wear it
often." Although he couldn't remember the last time he had worn a
different color, he still tried to defend his choice of
apparel.

"You not only wear it often, but everything
you own is black."

"'Tis not." He poured himself a goblet of
wine, and chugged it down in aggravation. Devon paced the floor,
arms still crossed, and stared at the ceiling.

"Now let me see," she thought out loud
ticking off her accusations on her fingers. "Your clothes are
black, your cloak is black, your horse is black, your raven is
black." She turned to face him. "Even your hair is black."