Rose of rapture (23 page)

Chapter Sixteen

SOMEWHERE, IN THE DISTANCE, THE VAST, WIND-swept moors seemed to meet the even more endless sky, the vivid autumn reds, golds, and greens of the earth and the pale, washed blue of the firmament running into each other, like watercolors in the rain, until they became as one; and the far horizon had no beginning, no end.

That is what the end of the world will be like, Isabella thought as she gazed out across the land. The heavens will meet the earth, and somewhere, the stars will fall into the sea. Perhaps if I ride far enough, I will find it has already begun, that somewhere, beyond the distant blurring of the horizon, the world is dying even now... dying, as I am dying inside, nevermore to be—

She sighed slowly, deeply, as though to inhale sharply would be to cause the dull, throbbing ache in her heart to stab more painfully, hurting her beyond what she could bear.

Lionel had gone, and she had been given no chance to explain to him what had really happened that day at the well. Warrick had seen to that, watching her constantly from beneath half-closed lids and waiting, waiting, unnerving her with the savagery and desire she knew lay coiled within his being. The girl trembled as she thought again of how he had kissed her that day at the

well and how she had melted in his imprisoning arms, surrendered to his demanding lips. Oh, God. He could have taken her there, and she would have given herself to him willingly, shamelessly, not caring that she despised him, that he had turned Lionel against her, had wounded both her and her beloved to the very depths of their souls. Only Giles's arrival had prevented the Earl from making her his. Oh, God. What was wrong with her?

Surreptitiously, Isabella looked over at Warrick, who rode beside her. He had done something to her to make her want him, despite her hatred of him. What was it? She studied him covertly, as though she could somehow discover the answer, but she could not. He was handsome, aye, but she had known many handsome men, Lionel among them. What was it then? The way those suddenly hot yellow eyes seized upon her hungrily, possessively, mentally stripping away her clothes and ravishing her fiercely, passionately, so she quivered all over just thinking about how it would be if Warrick actually made love to her? Aye, that must be it, for even now, she shivered uncontrollably with wanting at the thought. He had seduced her with those knowing eyes that seemed to say, "Come hither, and I will make ye feel as ye have never felt before. Ye are mine... mine!"

Christ's son! The very arrogance of the man. Who did he think he was anyway? His rank and riches were no greater than Lionel's, so what was it that drew Isabella to Warrick then, despite her love for the heir of St. Saviour? Surely, 'twas more than just a pair of eyes, no matter how compelling they might be. But... had it—had it not been Lionel's eyes that had won her heart? Aye, in truth, it was so. Isabella was stricken with despair at the thought. Was she but a fool then, to fall for a desire-filled glance? Nay, 'twas more than that. Lionel was her golden god, the sun and the sky. And Warrick... Warrick was a dark devil, the shadows and the earth. Aye, that was it.

We all have a darker side, the girl realized, and she knew that somehow, some way, Warrick had seen hers and claimed it as his own. Nay, I shall not be his Persephone, she thought, rebelling against the idea. I shall get Lionel back and find some way to free myself from Warrick's spell. Oh, if only I had been able to talk to Giles!

But her brother had gone back to the Borderlands to rejoin Gloucester and to battle the barbarous Scots who dared to raid upon England's soil. There was no one left to talk to except Caerllywel, and Isabella could not bring herself to speak to him

of her troubles. No matter how kind he was, he was still Warrick's

brother.

So she rode on silently toward Rushden and said nothing of the ache in her heart.

Beside her, the Earl watched the girl intently, guessing the depth of her pain and feeling a momentary flash of guilt at the hurt he had done her. Then he remembered Brangwen, and he forced himself to remain hard and unyielding. He would have no bride who would betray him. He would not be made a fool of again. He was sorry for Isabella, for by now, he had learned how cruelly Lord Oadby had treated the girl and her brother and how they had suffered as children, even as Warrick had suffered during his own youth. But the knowledge did not lessen the Earl's unrelenting purposefulness toward Isabella. Indeed, it made it more stem. She had been allowed to run wild, had virtually been raised in the stables of Rushden, under the care of Sirs Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf, who, out of love and pity, had indulged her every whim. As a result, her behavior toward men was too free and easy for Warrick's liking. At Rushden, it mattered little, as her brother's knights knew their place and would never have dreamt of taking advantage of Isabella's charms. But at Court...

The Earl's mouth tightened. The girl would encourage every courtier at the palace; and rakes like Lord Thomas Grey, Marquis of Dorset and the Queen's son, would not hesitate to make Isabella theirs and then boast of their conquest of her for all to snigger about behind Warrick's back! Doubtless, her fear of what he would do if he discovered she was not a virgin on their wedding night was the only thing that had prevented her from lying with Lord Lionel. But after the Earl had married her, and her maidenhead no longer remained to serve as proof of her faithfulness-.-Aye, that was when she would betray him, would seek to revenge herself on him for all real and imagined slights. Then she would give herself to any man just to spite him, as Brangwen had done.

Even now, Isabella was probably already contemplating her vengeance, Warrick thought as he stared over at her still figure on Cendrillon. Well, she would not have it, he vowed. He would keep a close watch on her while they were betrothed and after they were wed, he would kill her if she even so much as looked at another man. As for the girl believing herself in love with Lord Lionel—well, the Earl hoped he had ended the affair before it had become too serious. But just in case he had not, Warrick had sent his squire Rhys to St. Saviour-on-the-Lake to discover

all there was to know about its heir. If, despite all that had occurred, Lord Lionel still persisted in his attentions to Isabella, the Earl would know how to deal with that moonstruck swain most efficiently. Arrogantly, Warrick dismissed Lord Lionel Va-leureux from his mind.

Moments later, the Earl's musings were abruptly interrupted by a startled cry from Isabella. The sound brought him back sharply to reality, but before he could discover what was amiss, the girl had urged her mare to a gallop and was heading away from the road to the moors beyond.

'"Sabelle!" he shouted angrily, but she paid him no heed.

Warrick swore under his breath, then yanked his horse about to follow Sirs Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf, who had ahready hastily pulled away from the procession.

" Tis some animal in distress, my lord," Sir Eadric called back over his shoulder. " Tis the only thing that sets my lady Isabella off like this."

This was soon proven to be the case, for by the time the Earl had reached her, the girl had dismounted and was bent over a stray dog that lay upon the ground some distance from the road. How she had spied the hound, he did not know, for it was little more than a crumpled heap of bones; it was so starved. She talked to the animal quietly for a moment, then, as it seemed docile and friendly enough, she held her hand to its nose to let it accustom itself to her scent. Tentatively, the beast licked her fingers. It was only then that she began to examine it. Once finished, she raised her head.

"Thegn, have some of the men bring a cart," Isabella ordered, gazing up at Warrick as though daring him to defy her command.

But he said nothing. There was no pressing need to return to Rushden, and besides, the Earl knew that Isabella had a special penchant for injured creatures and would not have obeyed him in any event, had he ordered her to leave the hound. At least it would give her something to think about besides Lord Lionel Valeureux.

The cart was brought, and the girl carefully lifted the unpro-testing dog into the vehicle, covering the animal up with an old horse blanket and crooning soothingly to the beast all the while.

"Poor old hound dog," she said, patting its head and scratching its ears. "Poor old hound dog. Ye just got too old to be of use to your master, I guess, so he turned ye out to fend for yourself, I'll wager. Eadric, tie Cendrillon to the back of the cart, please, and, Beowulf, fetch me a little bit of meat from your pouch. I

know ye had saved it for later, but this poor creature is in greater need of it than ye."

"Aye, my lady."

"Surely, madam, ye do not mean to ride the rest of the way to Rushden in that cart," Warrick stated. "Twill be most uncomfortable, and 'tis filthy besides."

"What is a little dirt and discomfort compared to how this poor dog has suffered? Can ye not see how starved 'tis? 'Tis frightened as well and needs to be reassured, although I am certain ye cannot understand that, my lord, being so bold in your manner," Isabella told him, her voice tinged with sarcasm and double meaning.

The Earl raised one eyebrow and grinned.

"I didst not hear ye complain of my bold manner that day at the well, my lady," he reminded her softly, causing her to blush with shame and fury as she recalled once more how she had so willingly acquiesced to his desires.

"Oh! How dare ye mention that day to me?" she snapped. "Ye are no gentleman, my lord."

"Oh, I can be gentle, 'Sabelle, most gentle, if only ye wouldst stop fighting me."

"I shall never yield to ye, Warrick, and ye are a fool if ye believe I will. And cease calling me 'Sabelle! I have not made ye free to name me thus."

"Ah, well. 'Tis no matter. I will not need your permission much longer. I have decided we shall be wed as soon as possible after returning to Rushden."

Warrick had not meant to say that. Indeed, he did not know why he had. He had no wish for a bride. It was just that Isabella always seemed to get the best of him, and the thought had pricked his pride and vanity.

"Nay!" the girl cried sharply with sudden fright, her heart pounding anxiously in her breast. "Nay," she reiterated, forcing herself to remain calm. "'Tis a lie. Ye do but lie to fret me. Ye said 'twould be a year or more at least."

For a moment, the Earl was tempted to agree that he had only been taunting her; but upon reflection, he realized, because of the King's command, that he was going to have to wed Isabella sooner or later. It was unlikely that Edward would annul the betrothal, having already signed the contracts; and the chance that either Warrick or Isabella would die before the marriage could take place seemed equally remote. Besides, as Caerllywel had said, the Earl wanted the girl. He decided he might as well

wed her and have done. She was fourteen now—old enough to be bedded—and perhaps once she was his wife and at his utter mercy, she would be too frightened to betray him after all.

"I have changed my mind, madam. I grow weary, as your warden, of trying to silence your insulting tongue and wouldst still it, as your husband, in another manner, one that will prove far more pleasing to the both of us, methinks."

"God's blood! Do ye dream I will let ye touch me, ye whoreson bastard?"

"Aye," Warrick's eyes ravished her crudely, mockingly, as though to punish her for the aspersion she had cast upon his birth. "And more. Do ye doubt 'twill be so?" He laughed lowly when the girl made no response to him. "Comfort your hound, madam," he directed before turning away. "It trembles—as do ye."

The first thing that Isabella did upon returning to Rushden was to see that the stray dog she had found was settled comfortably in one of the empty stalls in the part of the stables that served as her menagerie. She fixed a pallet of straw inside the stall and arranged the old horse blanket over it, then laid the hound tenderly upon the bed. After that, she brought food and water and placed them within easy reach of the animal. As she had done in the cart, the girl patted the beast kindly and spoke to it encouragingly as it raised its head to sniff its new surroundings, then rose slowly to wolf down the meal that Isabella had provided. While the creature was eating, the girl examined its painfully thin body carefully, tending a number of cuts and scratches and one particularly deep wound that looked as though the dog had been viciously bitten. Then, after a few more reassuring words to the hound, who wagged its tail feebly and lay down again upon the pallet, she gathered up her rags and many unguents, replacing them in her basket, and left the stall. Isabella took care to lock the door securely behind her so the animal could not escape: for over the years, it had become her practice to isolate each new beast from the other creatures in the menagerie until the newcomer had grown accustomed to the others, and the girl was certain it would not attack any of its fellow companions.

The dog having been cared for, Isabella walked slowly to the keep, allowing her thoughts, for the first time, to dwell on Warrick's words during their journey. Did he really mean to wed her now instead of waiting? Or had it indeed been only a lie to fret her? She must discover the answer as soon as possible, for if the

Earl meant them to be married at once, there would be no time for Lionel to speak with the Duke of Gloucester and ask him to persuade his brother the King against the match.

The girl sighed with despair. It seemed that nothing in her life had gone right since the deaths of her parents.

"Why so glum, 'Sabelle?" Caerllywel joined her, his eyes kind and filled with concern. "Is aught amiss with the hound?"

"Nay, nothing more than what some decent food won't cure, methinks. The poor animal has numerous cuts and scratches and one particularly nasty wound, but those will heal with time."

"Then what is it, my lady, that brings such sorrow to your face?"

"Tis naught, Caerllywel, truly."

"Oh, come, 'Sabelle. Am I not your friend?"

"Aye, but ye are also Warrick's brother."