Rose of rapture (11 page)

"Didst truly believe I wouldst marry the bastard spawn of an English dog?" she sneered. "Thou art a fool, Waerwic. Why should I settle for that crumbling old heap of stones, to which ye are heir, in the land of my enemies, when I can be mistress of one of the finest keeps in all of Wales? Get ye hence, ye son of a churl. Ye have ceased to be of amusement to me."

Warrick was stunned; his heart was broken. The cold worm of hatred for all women that had crawled into his soul at his mother's desertion grew to monstrous proportions at his beloved Brangwen's cruel betrayal of him. He was only nineteen, but already, he was a man grown hard from the wounds his life had

inflicted on him. His pride and arrogance were all that sustained

him—those, and his vow never to love again.

When, two years later, his father was killed in battle, Warrick knew only that he wanted to get away from Devon and Wales. He had won his spurs, and blind with grief, he left Lord Drayton's service and made his way to London, where he sought a place for himself at Court. There, he distinguished himself in service to the Crown and became one of His Grace's favorites.

Now, at twenty-five, as he stood before Edward, the only liege to whom he had sworn fealty, Warrick cursed the day that had ever brought him to the palace: for the man the King had chosen to act as the new warden to the Ashleys was none other than Lord Warrick James ap Tremayne, now Earl of Hawkhurst; and he felt nothing but rage upon learning of his appointment to the office, despite the honor of the position. 'Twas Dorset or Hastings who had suggested the idea—he had no doubt—for those two favorites of His Grace were always trying to rid themselves of their rivals at Court.

"With all due respect. Sire—I am well content here at the palace," Warrick protested stiffly, trying to think of some way in which to extricate himself from the unwanted chore.

Edward only laughed and bent to fondle the voluptuous breasts of his latest mistress, who lay at his feet and who was gazing too raptly for the King's liking at the handsome countenance of the courtier who stood before him.

"Come, Hawkhurst," His Grace chided softly, his crystal blue eyes filled with the cruel deviltry that, of late, his subjects had come to know only too well. Edward liked his gifts to be accepted with gratitude, and Warrick's attitude irritated him. "I award ye an office most men would have paid handsomely for, and still, ye are not pleased. Rushden is a rich estate. Its revenues are quite sizable, I am told, and your share will be most generous. Though yt are hardly a pauper, I would not have thought ye would scorn so fair a prize. What ails ye, my lord? I fear I do not understand your reluctance in accepting the position."

"Begging your pardon. Sire, but with all due respect—I am not a nursemaid. I do not believe I am a man fit for such a task."

"Christ's son, Hawkhurst! Is that all?" Edward laughed again. "Godamercy! The Ashleys are hardly in swaddling clothes, and even if they were, they would have a nanna to attend them. What are ye thinking of. my lord? Ye will scarcely see the lad, Giles, who is fostered to my brother Gloucester. And the girl. Isabella, is a pretty maid of thirteen and quite a taking little wench—or

so Dickon informs me," the King added as an afterthought. "In fact, I have decided she would make ye an excellent bride."

"Bride, Sire!" Warrick gasped, stunned and angered by this announcement. And then, forgetting whose presence he stood in, he burst out, "But I have no wish for a wife!"

His Grace's eyes hardened slightly, though still, he smiled.

"But / wish for ye to have one, Hawkhurst. 'Tis time ye gave thought to the matter of producing an heir. The idea of your lands descending to one of your Welsh half brothers strikes me ill, very ill indeed. 'Twould ease my mind greatly if ye were not so tied to that lot."

"Except for my older brother, Madog, my brothers are bastards like myself. Your Grace, and not likely to inherit. After all, I am hardly in my grave. Sire! Does Your Grace have cause to doubt my loyalty?" Warrick inquired coldly, lifting one eyebrow demoniacally.

There were not many who insulted the Earl—and lived.

"Nay, of course not," Edward answered. "I would scarcely have awarded ye such an honor otherwise. Oh, come, my lord. The boy is the last male heir of his line. If aught should happen to him—if he should die—the maid would inherit all and become a very rich woman in her own right. Even now, she is no mean prize, for her dowry alone is a fortune.

"Rushden has always been a Yorkist stronghold, Hawkhurst— and one of importance. I must have a man I can trust there to be certain that does not change. The late Lord Oadby, though greedy, knew his duty to his king. 'Tis unfortunate he lost his life in a hunting accident. Ye have served the Crown well, my lord. 'Twould be a pity if that were not to continue. Of course"—the King shrugged when the Earl remained silent—"if ye still have no desire for the appointment or the Lady Isabella, I am sure I can find other tasks—and women—to take your fancy. The Lady Nan was recently widowed"—His Grace mentioned one of his previous whores—"and though her estate is small, the keep is still of some military value "

"I understand perfectly. Sire." Warrick spoke through clenched teeth, his face white with ire, a muscle working furiously in his jaw as he fought himself for control.

"I thought ye would," Edward intoned dryly. "Guard my wards well, my lord, and let me know how ye find the Lady Isabella. Dickon does have excellent taste in women, even though he seems to prefer them on the quiet side. Ye have my permission to go now and begin the preparations for your journey."

Warrick bowed low, then turned abruptly on his heel and wrathfully quit the chamber.

Once outside, he leaned against a wall for support, shaking all over with impotent ire. The unwelcome thought of leaving Court paled before the even more disastrous news he had just received. Marry! He was to be married—and to a wench he had never laid eyes on! It was either Lady Isabella Ashley or one of the King's cast-off whores. His Grace had made that quite clear.

Women! A plague take them all! Warrick cursed silendy, recalling Brangwen, beautiful Brangwen, his once-betrothed, who had played him false and left him for another.

The Earl ground his teeth with rage and frustration, thinking hard, but he could see no avenue of escape. Edward was his liege, and Warrick's duty to the Crown had been made plain. He had no choice; he would have to accept the position at Rushden as the new warden to the Ashleys, and, worse yet, he would be forced to take the Lady Isabella to wife. The first would at least enrich his purse. But the last.. .The Earl's lip curled with distaste. He had no wish for a bride, but since he must wed her,» Warrick determined he would bend the Lady Isabella to his will, or he would break her. He would not be made a fool of again!

Chapter Eight

ISABELLA CHEWED THE TIP OF HER QUILL ABSENTLY as she gazed up from the large account books spread before her. She had been poring over the records for a number of hours, trying to set them straight. Lord Oadby had juggled them cleverly, and it had taken her many months to determine just how he had managed to make the ledgers seem square. She sighed, then laid aside her pen and closed her eyes, rubbing them tiredly for a moment.

After the Earl's death (the manner of which, mercifully, none had questioned), the girl had, with no small measure of delight, sent the highly distraught and suddenly frantic Lady Shrewton packing, despite the Countess's shrill whines that she had no place to go (her husband having cast her off when she'd taken up with Lord Oadby).

"Poor Percy," Lady Shrewton had wailed tearfully and wrung her hands as though bereft with grief for the late Earl, though Isabella had known the Countess was concerned only about her own fate. "He was all I had. Oh, what is to become of me?"

The girl had eyed Lady Shrewton coldly and replied, "I neither know nor care, my lady. Ye have one hour to be gone from

Rushden—taking only those possessions that are rightfully yours—after which time, if ye have not departed, ye will be forcibly removed by my brother's men-at-arms."

"Oh, ye are cruel. Cruel!" the Countess had cried. "And after all I have done for ye too, ye ungrateful wench!"

"Ye have done nothing for me but usurp my proper place as mistress of Rushden and make my life miserable," Isabella had rejoined, trembling with quiet rage. "So do not think to shame me with any reminders of your many kindnesses to me, for there were none. Ye never cared for me or made one attempt to ease my unhappy lot. Had it not been for your fear of the Duke of Gloucester, I would not even have had what little I received. 'Tis your own greedy folly that has brought ye to this pass. Had ye but taken pity on me, I would do the same for ye now. As 'tis, I do but despise ye. The sooner ye are gone from Rushden, the better."

Following Lady Shrewton's hasty, ignominous departure, Isabella had written the King to inform him of the Earl's untimely demise and to request guidance in the matter. As she had feared. His Grace had responded that he would send a new warden to take Lord Oadby's place. But as it had, by then, been the dead of winter, and the snow-covered roads had made travel difficult, the girl had surmised the Earl's replacement probably would not arrive until after the spring thaw—or later. In the meanwhile, she had still had several weeks left in which to establish herself as mistress of Rushden; and Isabella had vowed that, this time, she would not be so easily dislodged. She was no longer a child but a woman.

She had begun by scrupulously going over Rushden's numerous account books to familiarize herself with the state of her brother's lands. It had been the first time the girl had seen the records, which Lady Rushden had kept before her death and Lord Oadby's arrival, and it had taken Isabella over a fortnight just to figure out the system her mother had originally devised and employed; the ledgers had been so altered by the Earl. Nevertheless, the girl had persisted in her task, angered but not surprised when she had finally discovered the extent of Lord Oadby's misappropriations. Afterward, she had written her brother to advise him of the condition of his estate and to inquire what steps he wished her to take with regard to their new warden, whose identity was as yet unknown.

We cannot allow this new warden to think we are so young

and ignorant that he may fill his purse with our gold without risk too, 'Sabelle, Giles had written back, and she had realized that, for all his words of encouragement contained therein as well, he was worried also. From what ye have told me, Rushden is still a very rich estate, despite the sums that Lord Oadby embezzled over the years. I shall not see the profits of my inheritance further pilfered by another thief or squandered by a fool. Ye must keep a close watch on this new warden, dear sister. Remember — ye are mistress at Rushden now. If he does aught ye find the least bit suspicious, ye must write to me of it at once. In the meantime, Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf will know what to do.

Isabella had glanced at the three faithful knights and shivered. They had not been at all shocked by the manner of Lord Oadby's death. On the contrary, they had admitted having discussed slaying the odious Earl themselves and had actually seemed disappointed that Isabella had inadvertently prevented them from carrying out this scheme. If the new warden proved as dreadful as the old, the girl was certain that this time, the three knights would not hesitate to murder him and dispose of his body without a trace!

Aye, she had no cause to fear the new warden. She had only to whisper the command, and he would somehow "accidentally" meet his end at Rushden Castle, with none the wiser as to the true manner of his death. Isabella shuddered and grew faint at the thought of giving such a terrible order but knew, if forced to, she would. For all her sweet nature, she could be strong and unyielding if the occasion demanded. Giles was everything to her. He had entrusted his inheritance to her. She would do whatever was necessary to hold it safe. She had assured her brother of that.

And in response, he had written: Aye, dear sister, I know if need be, ye wouldst even wield a sword for me, though 'twas too heavy for your grasp.

The girl sighed, closing the account books as the tears, which came quick of late, stung her eyes. Oh, if only her parents had not died, and Lord Oadby and Lady Shrewton had not come to Rushden! For a moment, Isabella wept bitterly with grief for her childhood, then, at the sound of footsteps, hastily dried her tears.

*'Bcggin' yer pardon, m'lady"—one of the serving maids entered and bobbed a curtsy—"but there be a bit of a ruckus in the cookhouse."

The girl sighed again as she followed the wench downstairs

and out into the inner ward of the keep to the kitchen. There was so much to do at Rushden; Isabella had not realized how much until after Lady Shrewton's departure. Perhaps the Countess had not been to blame for her ill nature after all.

After the difficulty in the cookhouse had been settled, Isabella ordered her horse saddled, intending to ride out to the cemetery, where she now often knelt at her mother's grave, seeking counsel. The upkeep of Rushden was no easy matter, especially for one who had not been properly trained since childhood for such a task; and the girl found her new responsibilities a heavy burden. She wished for an older and wiser head than her own to guide her, but there was none. She alone was now mistress of the castle, as Giles had said.

"And where be Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf?" the grizzled master-at-arms. Sir Lindael, questioned when she reached the portcullis.

Isabella glanced up inquiringly.

"Why, I do not know, sir. Why do ye ask? I have ridden by myself in the past. Is there some reason now why I should not?"

"Aye, that there be my lady," old Lindael answered, to her surprise. "Ye no longer be a child, my lady, but a young maid— one old enough to be wedded and bedded," the master-at-arms said bluntly. "And ye be a marriage prize besides. And though ye be the King's ward as well, your warden be dead, my lady; and the times be hard and uncertain. When life is difficult, it does strange things to men, even the best of them. There be many rough lords and knights abroad who might take advantage of your innocence, my lady, noble bom though ye be, and force ye into wedding them to seize your dowry."