Lord of the Blade (7 page)

It was a mistake. She knew it as soon as
she'd done it, but found herself unable to stop. She wickedly liked
what he was doing to her, and her own curiosity begged him to
continue. His open palms slid down her back and closed around her
waist as he pulled her closer.

The ember inside her was stoked, and the
flame grew with her lord's exploration. Her legs quaked and she
leaned against the barrel as they turned to rags, barely able to
hold her own weight

This man was very experienced. She had heard
many a story of the women he wooed from the kitchen help. She
lacked experience in this field, and she was sure it showed. Her
own insecurity caused her to pull back, but his grip never
slackened. He had no intention of letting her go, and to her
horror, she realized she wanted to surrender. A man – no - a lord,
had not only kissed her but started to caress her. Things were
moving so fast, she dizzied in the process

His hands slipped down to squeeze her bottom
and she inhaled sharply. Desperately, she tried to catch her breath
as her conscience reminded her she was nothing to this man. She was
just another wench he could tumble in the night. Someone to warm
his bed. She closed her eyes, blocking his handsome body from view
hoping it would make it easier to sway the temptations that were
threatening to consume her virginity. This was wrong, her mind
screamed, but her heart said differently. She found it hard to
ignore the tingling throughout her being. She stiffened her back
hoping to make the feeling disappear.

"You need not be scared," he said in a
whisper.

Devon's eyes popped open. He thought it was
fear that had her stiffening her spine. Oh, if only he knew it was
not fear but desire.

His head tilted down and she realized his
eyes were on her cleavage. She struggled to take a deep breath only
succeeding in making her breasts rise and fall dramatically, an act
she was sure would only tempt him more.

Her body was pressed close to his and she
noticed a stiffening of his own beneath his hose. His kiss
reclaimed her and as his tongue explored her mouth his hands
explored her body. Her back arched slightly as his fingers trailed
up her sides and under her arms. A small moan of desire lodged in
her throat as he gently fondled her breasts and added to her
internal fire.

"My lord," she whispered in between kisses.
His fingers teased her through her garment. Devon couldn’t ignore
the newfound warmth between her thighs.

"My lord?" She tried once again when he
nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. She rubbed her cheek
atop his hair, breathing in the essence of her dark lord

He pulled back slightly then, and for a mere
instant she thought he was going to stop his foreplay. The idea
devastated her though it's what she knew she should do.

She was wrong. He wasn't stopping, but just
starting. He dropped his mouth to the front of her bodice and
nuzzled her chest. Her hands were now behind her, gripping the
barrel so tightly she figured she'd have slivers on the morrow. He
playfully bit at her laces, his face now getting closer and closer
to her breasts.

He was gentle, teasing, and she felt aroused
beneath the coarse cloth. Like a horse drawn to water she found
herself wanting him more and more. She threw back her head as his
kisses found their way to her cleavage. It felt so good she was
sure it was a sin. Surely she'd burn in the fires of hell for
allowing herself to bask in the pleasures a man was giving her who
had no intention of ever loving her in return.

She gripped his long ebony hair, letting her
fingers run through it much the same way he did to her. She was a
fast learner and eager to experience all that she'd missed while
living with the monks. His hot lips burned her and she was sure if
she'd open her eyes she'd see smoke rising from her skin. His large
hands fumbled clumsily trying to untie her lacings and she felt the
urge to push away his hands and rip them open herself.

Finally, the laces containing her bodice
gave way and his fingers slipped inside, caressing her skin in
small, erotic circles. She felt so alive, being drawn to a height
of passion she’d never known before tonight. Her body vibrated to a
beat of its own. So this is how it felt to couple with a man. This
would be the night she turned from a maiden to a full-fledged
woman. She'd never forget this night for as long as she lived.

“Yes, I will warm your bed, my lord,” she
found herself saying.

He stopped abruptly and stood up straight,
his warmth leaving her as he did so. She opened her eyes not
believing what was happening. He looked deeply into her eyes, and
she couldn’t help but think she saw confusion within them. He
didn't say a word, just raked a hand through his hair and backed
away from her.

He cleared his throat and busied himself
straightening his tunic and flicking off invisible specks of
lint.

“Yes,” he said, and cleared his throat once
more. "That's a good start. I think you're learning quickly and
will make a fine servant after all. Now, we'll just have to work on
your obedience to my orders.”

Devon felt a sinking sensation in the pit of
her stomach. Her body partially exposed, she felt no better than
the castle's whore. She quickly tugged her bodice back into place
and with trembling fingers, pulled the laces closed. So this was
only a lesson in becoming a servant? What a fool she’d been to
think it’d been anything else. She cursed him silently and then
cursed herself for losing sight of her morals and control of her
emotions.

He took a step toward her, but she scooted
backward on the barrel, not wanting him to touch her again. He
reached out his hand toward her, but she only looked the other way.
He let his hand fall silently to his side. She wanted to slap him.
She wanted to tell him what she thought of him and rip out his hair
and claw out his eyes for the way he humiliated her.

But she didn’t. She was a servant now.
According to Leahla it was her duty to please her lord, even if it
displeased her in the process.

"Lord Corbett," called a voice from the
kitchen. "Lord Corbett, 'tis Delwynn. Are you in here m'lord?"

Spitting forth a ripe oath, Corbett looked
toward the larder door and then back at her.

"'Tis my squire."

"Lord Corbett?" came Delwynn's voice much
closer this time.

"Aye, Delwynn," answered Corbett, not taking
his eyes from her. "What is it?"

"You are needed out on the battlements,"
came Delwynn's voice. "A couple of the guards are well into their
cups, and in the midst of a heated confrontation."

Corbett didn't respond. Devon felt his eyes
boring into her, but she was too embarrassed to look at him.
Instead, she just faced the wall and waited for him to leave. From
the corner of her eye she saw him take a step toward the door, then
stop and look back at her over his shoulder. Then when his squire's
voice called once more, he turn sharply on his heel and left.

All was quiet once again, and Devon found
herself as before. Alone. She buried her face in her hands and wept
softly. She released all her fears, anger, frustration and
confusion as the fires of hell flickered through her closed lids.
Then the candle consumed the last of its tallow, giving one last
flicker before leaving her in the dark.

Corbett tossed and turned that night, not able to
sleep after what had happened in the larder. He’d only meant to
teach Devon a lesson, but somehow his little lesson had turned into
passion. He’d never felt this way with any of his favorite
lightskirts. This servant was different. She possessed a piece of
his heart and a piece of his soul as well. That’s why he’d stopped
when all he wanted to do was continue. He couldn’t have emotions
for a servant. He’d learned from his father’s mistake and would not
repeat it, once again sullying the Blake name. He needed to find a
titled lady quickly to marry. He needed to forget about the servant
girl that stirred not only his loins but his heart as well.

His dreams were more vivid than ever that night. But
instead of dreaming of the girl who’d haunted his sleep for years
now, he found himself dreaming of a time long ago, when he was just
a child.

A sorcerer's apprentice.

That's what the old sorcerer, Orrick had
called him. Seven year old Corbett stared up the dark winding
staircase of the west tower of Torquey Castle.

The baroness's tower.

Orrick stood patiently at his side.

"Go ahead, lad," prompted Orrick, placing
his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You must see that the amulet makes
its way to the baron's first born."

Corbett's heart beat loudly in his chest and
his mouth went dry. He knew the baroness was giving birth above
stairs and if the thought of confronting the woman wasn't enough to
scare him, the idea of watching her give birth was. He could hear
her screams of pain echoing down the cold stone walls, and the
sound of the midwife desperately trying to comfort her. The wailing
reminded him of the dungeon at Blake Castle when his grandfather,
Lord Steepleton, saw to use it for prisoners of war. But that was
the sound of death. This was the sound of life. Not much different
in his mind.

Corbett wasn't ignorant to the process of
birth. He'd been present when his own mother gave birth to his
sister, Wren. And If he hadn't been forced to leave his home at
Blake Castle two days earlier, he would have been present when she
gave birth to the twins as well.

But this was different. The baroness was
frightening, and he had no desire to occupy the same room as her.
She had a deception about her. Corbett knew Orrick felt it too, but
wouldn't admit it.

"Am I truly your apprentice, Orrick?"
Corbett felt honored to be assisting his father's best friend, but
he didn't really believe he had any of the qualities required to be
a sorcerer's apprentice. He was of fostering age and should be
raised by another lord to insure peace between the lands. He
wondered if this were his father's subtle way of telling him he
loved him - though he'd never said it. But being raised by a
sorcerer meant he’d never have the chance of becoming a knight like
his father.

"You have the gift of prophecy, my son. I
realize you're young, but you show potential."

"Prophecy?" Corbett studied the man's
wrinkled face, trying to understand. "Are you speaking of the
dreams I have that sometimes come true?"

"They have more than once come true," smiled
Orrick. "You're special, my boy. Through your dreams you can see
what others cannot."

Orrick might be right, but it didn't comfort
Corbett. He disliked Torquey Castle the moment he laid eyes on it.
It was dark and gloomy and the people feared the Baron of Torquey's
wife. The worst part was that his father, the baron's former
captain of the guard, would now be living back at Blake Castle
while Corbett's new home would be here. His grandfather, Lord of
Steepleton, had died two days earlier and now Evan Blake would be
returning home to rule in his place. Ironic, thought Corbett, that
his father finally returned and now he himself was to leave
instead.

He already missed his younger sister, Wren,
and most of all his mother. How he wished he could be home to see
his new brother and sister. But Blake Castle was his past now. He
would be raised by Baron Torquey's sorcerer. He knew his father had
good intentions, but all Corbett had ever wanted was to follow in
his father's footsteps. Now he'd never be lord of a castle and
never use a blade the way his father did to protect his liege lord.
He'd never have the chance to go into battle with his head held
high, all because he was 'gifted' as they say.

He toyed with the baby ring he wore on a
chain around his neck. It was a ring with the Blake crest of an
eagle. Corbett had received it on the day he was born, as well as
his younger sister, Wren. The new siblings would receive it too,
now. It was all he had to comfort him. His only remembrance of a
family so far away.

Suddenly, Corbett’s dream was interrupted by
two green eyes. Devon’s eyes. They weren’t the eyes of passion, but
the eyes of torment and fear. They were once again calling out to
him for help.

He shouted out and sat up in a sweat. He
grabbed for his dagger under his pillow, ready to kill anyone who
would harm this lovely woman. But there was no one there, only
darkness. Darkness and the two amethyst eyes of his raven glowing
from the bird’s perch next to his bed. The sound of his rapid
breathing filled the air. The raven just watched him calmly. He
fell back into the bed, knowing this would be a very long
night.

Chapter 6

Devon rolled over on the sleeping pallet
provided for her by Lord Corbett. After she’d left the larder last
night, Corbett’s squire told her by the lord’s orders she was to
sleep in the baron’s wardrobe, rather than by the fire in the great
hall.

The amount of sunlight streaming through the
crack in the shutters told her she had slept much longer than she’d
intended. She'd never known what it was like to rise
after
the sun. Being a kitchen servant demanded she started working
earlier than the rest. Even at the monastery she always awoke
before dawn, as that was when the monks started their day.

She stretched out on the pallet remembering
her encounter with Lord Corbett in the larder. She couldn’t help
but think of the way her body heated under his touch, and how she
was almost ready to give up her virginity to him. She knew now
she’d made a mistake. The temperature of the room suddenly raised
and she kicked off the fur covering that served as her blanket.
With her eyes still closed, she rolled back the other way only to
imagine she heard Corbett’s low, sultry voice.

"Good Morning!"

Her eyes flashed open and she frantically
scanned the wardrobe. It sounded so real.