Rose of rapture (15 page)

Helplessly, she looked up at the Earl. This man was to be her husband, would share her bed, would have the right to put his hands upon her and—and—Oh, Lionel. Lionel! She gave another strangled cry of despair.

"Nay! Nay! Ye will never have me," she vowed irrationally.

"It seems ye are certain of a great many things, madam," Warrick sneered, his eyes roaming lewdly over her body again as he returned her dagger. "I have always found 'tis most unwise to be so sure of oneself. As unwelcome as the prospect is, ye shall be my wife, my lady—and in every way," he added crudely, mockingly, his meaning plain. "'Tis the King's wish that I get an heir. That is the whole purpose of our marriage."

"Then—then surely, some other maid would serve as well." Isabella bit her lip. "Ye do not want me, my lord—"

"Not as my wife, nay. But ye are infinitely preferrable to one of Edward's cast-off whores, which is what he offered me otherwise—as though I, Hawkhurst, would be content with some sullied slut! At least ye are a maid"—he paused deliberately, as though waiting to see if she would deny it, then went on more intently—^"and I find the thought of bedding ye does not... displease me.

He laid one hand upon the girl's throat, then let his fingers

ROSE OF RAPTURE lOi

slide slowly down the hollow between her breasts, smiling jeer-ingly at her obvious distress.

"Don't. Please don't," Isabella whispered, the words echoing like a whimper through the hall.

To her surprise, Warrick ceased the sensuous movement, shrugging carelessly, for the point had been made.

"How much time? How much time do I have before we are wed?" Isabella inquired, thinking feverishly.

"I am in no hurry, madam, nor am I in the habit of bedding children. Ye are young yet. A year or two perhaps."

"Once, I thought that was a long time," the girl said.

"And so 'tis, my lady. Who knows what may happen in such a time? His Grace might change his mind; 1 might be slain in battle Though I confess I find these two possibilities unlikely."

"My lord, please. There must be some means of extricating ourselves from this unwanted betrothal. I simply cannot marry ye. I—I love another."

There. She had said it, her true reason for not wanting to wed the Earl: for though he was handsome and rich and a favorite of the King, Isabella did not love him. She loved another, and despite the fact that the impassioned letters the girl had received from Lionel since his leaving had contained no mention of marriage, she still hoped her beloved's intentions toward her were honorable. Aye, surely, they were! She just couldn't believe otherwise. It would break her heart.

Warrick inhaled sharply. His eyes narrowed.

"Then that is your misfortune"—his voice was low and threatening as he responded to her confession. "Don't even think of deceiving me with another, madam, for I shall kill ye if ye do. Remember that—and well—and take no other to your bed, thinking some brave lover will save ye from your plight. I am deadly with my broadsword and will not be betrayed again. Forget this man. Ye are mine," he breathed. "Whether ye wish to be or not—ye are mine. Good night, my lady. Pleasant dreams."

Then he bowed, turned on his heel, and left her.

After he had gone, Isabella scurried to her chamber, slammed the door, and did something she had rarely done in her life: She shot the bolt home—fiercely, as though her very well-being depended on the Earl hearing the echo of the lock sliding shut. Then she leaned against the door, shaking all over, feeling as though she were going to be violently ill.

Married! She was to be married to Lord Hawkhurst! The thought chilled her to the bone. God's blood! She would not do it! She would have Giles's knights slay the Earl at once! Then Isabella remembered she had warned Lord Hawkhurst that he might easily meet his end at Rushden and had aroused his suspicions about Lord Oadby's death besides. She bit her lip, cursing her foolishness. After tonight, the Earl was certain to be on his guard, and too, there was his brother Caerllywel to be thought of—Caerlly-wel, who had been kind. If Isabella gave Giles's men orders to kill Lord Hawkhurst, they would surely slay his brother as well. There could be no chance of Caerllywel investigating the Earl's death and possibly bringing the King's wrath down upon Isabella and Giles.

Dear God. What was she to do? What was she to do?

Oh, Lionel. Lionel, my love! How can I live without ye? 'Tis too cruel! It cannot be!

Isabella pressed her face against the hard wooden door—and wept.

Chapter Ten

THE NEXT MORNING, ISABELLA WAS GLAD SHE HAD not acted rashly, for the Earl was polite but withdrawn at breakfast and made no mention of their betrothal. It was inconceivable to the girl that Warrick could sit there so calmly, ignoring her, when their lives had been so disastrously changed. Had he no feelings, this man who had said he would wed her, though he did not wish to have her as his wife? She thought of Lionel and the look on his face when he had sworn to make her his. The Earl had not looked at her like that last night... would never look at her like that.

Oh, God, oh, God, she prayed fiercely. Don't let it be true. Please don't let it be true that this man is to be my husband. 'Tis Lionel I love. Oh, Lionel. Lionel!

Caerllywel too was silent, and Isabella wondered whether it was because of his aching head bom of the liquor he had consumed the previous evening or the fact that he and his brother had quarreled fiercely long after she had retired last night. The girl had heard them arguing, but their voices had been low, and she had not learned anything, despite pressing her ear to her chamber door for what had seemed like hours. The soft tones had not been loud enough to carry intelligibly. Isabella would

have crept down the corridor from her room or sent Alice to spy on the two men, but the girl had been so frightened by Warrick that she had sought comfort instead in the gentle snoring of the old nanna, who slept in the small antechamber of Isabella's room.

The girl would have been only faintly surprised to learn she herself had been their topic of conversation.

"For all her sweet temper, she is no fool," the Earl had growled. "She has eyes that can see into a man's soul, and her ears are attuned to the slightest nuance of his voice. If ye persist in your attentions to her, she will cause trouble between us. I am warning ye, Caerllywel: Keep away from her."

"Oh, come, Waerwic. Ye speak ill of my Lady Isabella only because Brangwen has soured ye for all women. My Lady Isabella was but pleasant—"

"Nay, she is a witch—like all the rest! Ye do not believe me?" Warrick had asked, then laughed shortly when his brother had remained silent. "God's wounds! She threatened to slay me this eve."

"What?" Caerllywel's eyes had widened with disbelief, theni narrowed. "Nay!"

"Aye, 'tis true. The Lady Isabella pulled her knife and swore she would kill me or set her brother's men to the task. Doubtless, that is what really happened to Lord Oadby. Oh, aye, she is a pleasant maid indeed, brother," the Earl had sneered, "one who, at the slightest provocation, is likely to stab me whilst I sleep or command her brother's men to arrange a fatal 'accident' for me."

"Nay, I cannot believe that of her, Waerwic. One who sets her hand to healing does not murder in the dark of night." Caerllywel had suddenly stared at his brother accusingly. "Ye must have frightened her—deliberately!"

"Oh, aye." Warrick had smiled wolfishly. "I told her we were to be wed, then intimated what I expected from our marriage. I very much fear my sweet bride is not at all looking forward to sharing my bed."

"But—but why on earth did ye set about to terrify the girl, Waerwic? Surely, there was no need for such."

"I do not aim to be saddled with a wench who knows no fear of me, Caerllywel. Had I dealt with Brangwen as I should have, she would have been too afraid to cast her eyes upon another man and would yet be mine."

"Nay, even that would not have held her, and my Lady Isabella is not Brangwen, Waerwic," his brother had reminded him grimly.

"Perhaps not, but they are alike nevertheless—all of them! Deceitful, lying bitches, one and all—good for one thing only! And fools are men who cannot see the rotten black hearts that lie beneath their facades of outward beauty!"

"Waerwic, Waerwic. Ye are wrong, wrongl One wench played ye false; 'tis true. But 'twas her nature, brother. She was sick and evil. Our mother warned ye of it from the start, but ye would not listen. Even had ye threatened Brangwen with death, she would have laughed in your face and lain with her executioner before your very eyes! My Lady Isabella is not like that, Waerwic. She is a woman to be won with love and treasured, methinks; and once her heart is yours, 'twill have no room in it for another man—I know it! Waerwic, Waerwic! I pray ye: Do not allow your hatred of one wicked maid to blind ye to the attributes of a wench who is naught but gentle and good. Ye will regret it, and bitterly, I promise ye."

"Thou art a fool, Caerllywel."

Warrick's mouth curled with contempt as he remembered the words of last night this morning. His brother was a fool. The Earl had been right to frighten Isabella. Already, she behaved more modestly, her eyes downcast at her plate instead of flirting with Caerllywel.

That Isabella had not been teasing his brother the previous evening had not occurred to Warrick. He had no sisters and was not close to any woman. Thus, he had not recognized that Isabella's manner was that of a girl who had been raised primarily by and among men and so conversed easily with them, without the coyness or restraint that would have marked another woman. Indeed, because of her deep love of animals and Lady Shrewton's mean behavior toward her, Isabella had spent far more time in the stables than the sollar. She could stitch a wound like no other, but when it came to embroidering a sampler, her skillful fingers grew awkward and clumsy. She could boil herbs for an unguent, but when it came to steeping petals for perfume, she invariably spoilt the mixture. She could cradle a beast in her lap for hours without moving, but when it came to sitting at her studies, she fidgeted after a few minutes. She could carry on a lively discussion with the knights of the castle, but when it came to talking with the maids of the keep, Isabella was at a loss, for their interests were not her own.

But the Earl knew none of this and would not have believed it if he had. He had become too accustomed to thinking of women

as mere bodies to warm his bed—to be dismissed with a handful of coins or a pretty bauble if they had pleased him, a few sharp words and sometimes a slap or two if they had not.

Warrick pushed away his plate and rose to his feet.

"I intend to ride out over the estate today. Do ye wish to accompany me?"

He had directed the question to Caerllywel, but Isabella did not know that.

"But of course, my lord," she answered politely, looking up at him with some surprise. "I have already given instructions for my mare to be saddled. Sirs Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf will escort us, along with whomever of your own men ye may choose."

If Caerllywel's head had not been throbbing so badly from the ale he had drunk last night, he would have chortled aloud at the expression on his brother's face. In Warrick's mind, women did not meddle in the business affairs of men, and so Isabella had inadvertently insulted him again.

"Madam"—the Earl spoke coldly, disdainfully, wishing to put the impudent witch in her place—"I am sure there is no need for » ye to trouble yourself in such a manner. The services of your chief baihff will be quite adequate, I assure ye, as I am certain he knows far more about the management of your brother's lands than ye."

"I—I do not think so, my lord. Indeed, he will find it quite odd that I do not accompany ye. However"—Isabella quickly desisted, not wishing to provoke him—"if that is your desire ..."

"Aye, 'tis," he informed her loftily, and nothing further was said as the girl left the hall to send a messenger for the bailiff.

But Master Potter, when summoned and told why he had been called from his duties, protested vigorously, shaking his head.

"My lord, I have a bad leg," he whined, "and 'tis difficult for me to ride any great distance. When 'tis necessary I oversee the farthest reaches of the estate, I travel by cart. Sometimes, it takes many days just to get from one point to another. Ye will do better to take the Lady Isabella. 'Tis she who keeps the account books anyway, and she is the only person, besides Lord Rushden, who knows the true worth of his lands. That, I assume, my lord, is what ye wish to know, is it not?"

"What do ye mean—the Lady Isabella keeps the account books? Do ye not see to the matter yourself with the aid of a clerk?"

"Oh, nay, my lord. The Ladies of Rushden have always kept the records and known as much of the castle's affairs as the Lords themselves. The Rushden charter, my lord, permits descendance

to females if there be no legitimate male issue to inherit. For this reason, the daughters of Rushden are-as learned in many areas as its sons are. In my time, my lord—with the exception of when Lx)rd Oadby oversaw the estate and prevented the Lady Isabella from taking her rightful place as its mistress—there has never been a daughter of Rushden who could not hold and manage the keep as well as any of its sons."

Warrick inhaled deeply and thought if he heard Caerllywel laugh—even once—the Earl would slit his brother's throat. Fortunately, Caerllywel must have suspected this, for he made no sound, although if Warrick had spared him a glance, he would have seen his brother's eyes were filled with merriment.

"Master Potter, I desire ye to fetch the Lady Isabella here to me at once," the Earl ordered grimly.

"Aye, my lord."

Presently, Isabella appeared, her hands clasped demurely before her, her eyebrows raised in gentle inquiry. Warrick was not deceived. He suspected that beneath her outward demeanor, Isabella was secretly laughing at him. With difficulty, he quelled the strong desire he had to box her ears and silently cursed her for a witch.

"My lord?" she queried.

"I—I have changed my mind, my lady," Warrick stated stiffly. "I desire ye to ride out with us after all."