Rose of rapture (22 page)

Isabella flushed, her gray-green orbs suddenly downcast, her heart beating too fast in her breast. For a moment, she did not trust herself to speak. Why should the Earl wish such a thing from her? 'Twas but meant to humiliate her; she was certain of that.

"Well, madam?" He lifted one eyebrow inquiringly. "Is it a bargain or nay?"

"Aye—aye, my lord." Her voice was so low, he almost didn't hear her.

"Your word on it, my lady."

Her eyes flashed dangerously at that.

"Do ye not trust me, Warrick?" she asked defensively.

"Nay. I trust no woman, madam, least of all one as... bewitching as ye."

"I am no sorceress, my lord, but even if I were, ye wouldst need have no fear of me. There is no spell that would win your heart, for ye have none; and even if ye did, I would not want it."

The Earl's golden eyes narrowed ominously at that, for there was only one other woman who had dared to scorn him so.

"Ye speak boldly for a wench who is one day to be at my utter mercy," he observed. "'Twill be interesting to see if you are so brazen then, my lady."

Isabella shivered slightly at his words, but still, determined not to let him get the best of her, she answered bravely—if a trifle bitterly.

"Methinks ye do but delay that day m order to make sport of me, my lord. 'Tis but a cat and mouse game that ye play."

"Tis the Valeureux who wears the cat's badge, madam," he reminded her silkily. "I bear the hawk's rosette. I do not stalk my prey. When I strike, 'tis swift—and sure. Remember that."

Isabella swallowed hard, then suddenly spurred her mare ahead, Warrick's soft, jeering laughter ringing in her ears.

Isabella had, after all, worried in vain, for the Earl, if reserved, was at least courteous to both Giles and Lionel; and Caerllywel put forth his best effort at charming all. Indeed, he won the girl's heart for all time by succeeding, with his preposterous jests and antics, in making Giles laugh aloud brightiy and naturally for the first time in months.

"Oh, Caerllywel," Isabella sighed. "I cannot tell ye how grateful I am for your kindness to my brother. Every day, he grows' more like the Giles I remember of old."

Caerllywel smiled.

"Now if I could but lighten the shadows that darken your eyes, 'Sabelle, I wouldst be the happiest of men."

"How good to hear ye address me as 'Sabelle," she said, gently turning away from the inquiry in his eyes. "Methinks I shall enjoy having ye for a brother after all, Caerllywell, though ye are the worst of rogues."

"And Waerwic, 'Sabelle?" He continued to probe searchingly. "Will ye enjoy having him as your husband?"

"My feelings toward the Earl do not matter. He is my betrothed. Please, Caerllywel"—Isabella laid one hand upon his arm—"let us speak no more of my marriage. I am content," she lied, then laughed lightly, as though to dispell any lingering doubts he might have. "Come. Ye promised us the arrangements for your treasure hunt would be finished this mom, and I expect ye to keep your word, sir!"

The idea for the infamous treasure hunt, as Warrick called it, had somehow jokingly arisen one evening at supper; and Caerllywel, being immediately stricken with the possibilities of the suggestion, had proposed to carry out the scheme. He would, he had told them, undertake to work out the basic details of the plan, such as the rules and so forth, then would request that Sirs Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf think up the necessary clues, draw

up maps, and hide the treasure. That way, all would be certain that Caerllywel was not pulling another one of his awful jests on them. Seeing Giles's face light up with excitement at the thought of a treasure hunt, Isabella had readily agreed to it.

Warrick, Giles, and Lionel were akeady mounted and waiting impatiently when she and Caerllywel stepped outside. Both Giles and Lionel were shouting for them to hurry and laughing with anticipation, and even Warrick was smiling with wry amusement.

"Come, brother," he called dryly. *'Ye have kept us in suspense long enough. Ye must explain this mad plan of yours at once."

"Patience, Waerwic, patience." Caerllywel grinned and paused deliberately, causing everyone to groan. "All right, all right!" He raised his hands for silence, then queried mischievously, "Are we all assembled?"

"Ye can see we are!" the Earl snapped tartly. "Get on with it, brother!"

"There is no need to get huffy about it, Waerwic," Caerllywel drawled with mock wrath. "Beware, lest I give ye a false map! Now. The game is this: Somewhere, out there"—he indicated the sweep of terrain—"the very good Sirs Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf have buried a treasure, and we must find it. The rules are simple." He reached into his doublet. "These, my dear players, are our maps. We do but have to decipher the clues contained herein and follow them to the treasure. Are there any questions?"

"Only one," Warrick said. "Just what is this treasure we are seeking? We must be certain 'tis worth all the effort we are about to put forth."

"Oh, come, come, Waerwic," Caerllywel chided. "Even / do not know the answer to that! Where is your sense of adventure? 'Tis the very fact that ye do not know what the treasure is that lends the game its spice. However, Giles's faithful knights have assured me 'tis something we shall be most grateful for, once we have found it. Are we ready? Then let us proceed at once!"

The pale grey mist that had cloaked the moors earlier had faded with the slow onslaught of the mellowing sun, and the air was cool and crisp with the clean scent of the late-coming autumn as the small party rode forth from Grasmere. Here and there, the leaves of the trees had begun to turn colors, the red and gold mingling with the green like flickering flames in the forest.

All were in high spirits as they studied the cryptically detailed maps, which Caerllywel had given them, and attempted to decipher the clues leading to the treasure. Isabella, who was most familiar with the vicinity surrounding Grasmere, was the first to

figure out the starting point and set off with a httle cry of triumph, the others galloping close behind.

"Not fair! Not fair!" she wailed laughingly over her shoulder and urged Cendrillon to a faster pace.

Presently, she was deep into the woods and had lost the rest, who, one by one, gradually split up in order to follow their own hunches, each certain he alone was on the right track.

It was late afternoon when Isabella finally reached a small clearing wherein stood an old, abandoned well that was said to have existed from the time of the Druids and that the girl had decided was the hiding place of the treasure. Few sought the well out nowadays, however, for it was believed to be haunted; so despite her enthusiasm, Isabella approached it cautiously. She shivered as a soft cry floated to her on the wind and almost turned back before she recognized it was only the whicker of a steed. Someone else had beaten her to the treasure! For a moment, the girl knew only disappointment at having lost the game; then her heart began to pound excitedly in her breast. The winner was probably Giles, as, next to her, he knew the area best; but there' was also a chance that it was Lionel, and she would have a few precious minutes alone with him before the others arrived. Eagerly, Isabella touched her heels to Cendrillon's sides, guiding the mare into the clearing.

"Ye!" she cried as, much to her dismay, she discovered it was Warrick who awaited her. "What are ye doing here? This place is little known, even to my brother and myself. How did ye find it so quickly?"

"I determined 'twould be easier merely to decipher the last clue while the rest of ye wasted your time getting through the entire map. And as your three knights kindly employed a Welsh word in the final puzzle—no doubt in order to assist my brother and me a little since we do not know this region—'twas not that difficult for me to discover this place. I had but to search for a well."

"Aye, but how did ye know that?"

The Earl pointed to his map and quoted, "'Ride ahead of the sun to a place where its worshipers once drew cain from a ring of stone.' In order to ride ahead of the sun, one must travel west, naturally," he explained. "Sun worshipers were, of course, the ancient pagans, so I assumed the location of the treasure was old and probably abandoned. But the real key to the riddle was cain, which, in this instance, refers not to the biblical Cain, but a

Welsh word meaning 'clear bright water.' 'A ring of stone' thus translated as a well."

"Very clever, my lord. I have to admit 'twas the cain that puzzled me. I wasted a great deal of time searching the land east of a place called Eden's Folly before I realized the sun worshipers were doubtless Druids, and I thought of this place. 'Tis said they haunt this well, ye know."

"Really? Well, shall we see if they disturbed the treasure?"

"All right." Isabella nodded.

Warrick helped her dismount, and together, they hauled up the bucket from the well. The rotten timbers on which the pail's frayed rope was wound creaked ominously, but at last, the two had the treasure in hand. It soon proved to be nothing more than a huge picnic lunch and a couple of jugs of wine, but Isabella, who was by this time famished, only laughed and set about preparing the meal.

"Christ's son," the Earl cursed, gazing down at the now-open basket as though he would like to have kicked it. "Do ye mean to tell me we searched all mom for this?"

"I'm sorry," Isabella apologized ruefully from where she knelt. "I imagine this was Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf's idea of a jest—in which they were doubtless aided and abetted by your brother. Nevertheless, 'twas thoughtful of them to provide this repast. I'll warrant they realized how hungry we would be after our exertions, and I am starved, so all is not lost."

"Aye." Warrick's eyes suddenly darkened speculatively. "Ye are right, of course. All is indeed not entirely lost," he said softly. "We are, after all, quite alone here; and ye do owe me a kiss. I think now, madam, is the time to collect it."

Isabella's chest constricted without warning; for an instant, she found herself unable to breathe. In the next moment, she was inhaling sharply, practically gasping for air. The Earl had been so long in demanding payment that she had thought he had forgotten all about the price of his silence. She should have known better!

"Warrick, please," she whispered.

"Come, sweetheart," he coaxed strangely, holding out one hand and smiling down at her oddly. "I am waiting, and ye did promise."

Slowly, fearing what he might do to her otherwise, Isabella laid her palm in his and rose to her feet, wondering at the peculiar glint in his eyes and the endearing manner in which he had spoken

to her. Why, he had made it sound as though they were lovers! But why? Why this sudden change in attitude toward her? Somehow, it frightened her. Though Isabella feared and disliked him, she was honest enough with herself to admit that Warrick had a strong animal magnetism that attracted her to him, no matter how hard she fought against it. What would happen if he turned the full depths of his charm upon her? She did not think she could stand such an assault upon her senses. She half-turned, as though to flee, and felt the Earl's hand tighten on her own.

"I am waiting, my love," he murmured, still gazing down at her with the strange light in his eyes. "It has been far too long since I last tasted the sweetness of your lips."

Still hesitant, a pulse now beating rapidly at the hollow of her throat, the girl pleaded once more for release from the price of his silence, but he only laughed and shook his head.

"Come, come, 'Sabelle." He spoke the intimate version of her name as though caressing it. "Do not play coy with me. Ye know full well that I desire ye. This will not be the first time I have held ye in my arms—nor will it be the last. We shall share many such moments together, and I know ye await them as eagerly as I. 'Tis only your maidenly virtue that causes ye to blush and deny it. Now, come. Where is the kiss ye promised me?"

Tentatively, trembling slightly, Isabella wrapped her arms about Warrick's neck and placed her mouth on his. She had meant only to kiss him lightly, then withdraw; but suddenly, he crushed her to him, tangling the fingers of one hand roughly in her hair so she could not free herself. Alarmed, the girl began to struggle, not realizing it appeared as though she were pressing her body even closer to the Earl's and writhing against him suggestively. But Warrick knew and took full advantage of the situation, bending her backward so her knees buckled, and she was forced to stop fighting him, to cling to him tightly, almost wantonly, for support. Her head began to spin dizzily as the blood rushed to it hotly, and from somewhere deep in her throat came a low, animalistic moan—a soft cry of passion and surrender that she was unable to prevent.

Only then did the Earl let her go. And only then did Isabella hear the smothered gasp of outrage that came from the edge of the clearing. Horrified, the girl whirled in time to see Lionel, his face a distorted mask of anger and disbelief, yank his horse about cruelly and gallop heedlessly through the woods.

"Lionel!" she sobbed brokenly, understanding, at last, the reason for the scenario just past. "Lionel!" But he was gone. Des-

perately, she tried to run after him, but Warrick caught her possessively and yanked her back. Her eyes flashing with pain and rage, Isabella stared up at him dazedly, hating him, wanting to kill him. "Ye knew!" she accused him feverishly. "Ye swine! Ye knew that Lionel was there all the time! Ye made it seem as though ye and I were lovers—that I—that I wanted ye—"

"Aye," he said, grinning, but the smile did not quite reach the narrowed shards of his amber eyes. "I warned ye, madam: Ye are mine, and I will not have ye trysting with another."

"Oh, God, I despise ye! I despise ye, do ye hear?" Isabella cried.

"Dost think I care?" the Earl queried sharply. "Tis enough that ye obey me. I do not ask for your love."

"Even if ye did, I wouldst never give it to ye. Never!" the giri vowed.

Blindly, uncontrollably, she struck out at him like a wild thing, her fingers curled into tightly clenched fists. But Warrick only laughed, easily pinioning her arms behind her back and claiming her mouth once more, kissing her searingly until her lips were bruised and swollen from his violent lovemaking, and her body was melting against his, her wrath turning, against her will, to desire.