Rose of rapture (3 page)

Despite her attention to the peep, which she took turns sharing with her brother, the girl occasionally glanced fearfully over her shoulder to see if anyone had spied their presence, for the children had been ordered to remain in their chambers until sent for. But no one came. Everyone was too busy preparing for the arrival of Lord Perceival Renfred, Earl of Oadby.

Isabella choked down a ragged sob of panic at the thought and, with one tightly clenched fist, rubbed her eyes fiercely to brush away the stinging tears of grief that had suddenly filled them. Oh, if only her father and mother had not died! But Lord and Lady Rushden had succumbed to the dreaded sweating sickness that had swept the countryside, leaving Isabella and Giles alone in the world. As the sole heirs to the very rich Ashley estate, the two youngsters had subsequently become wards of the King; and their fates, from this day on, would rest in the hands of the nervously awaited Lord Oadby, the man appointed by His Grace to serve as their warden and whom Isabella was certain would be horrid and mean.

Why she felt this, she could not have said. She was a fanciful creature, and her imagination was vivid; and as no one had taken the trouble to inform her of anything about her shortly expected warden except his name, she had wildly drawn the most frightening conclusions about him. He was such an ogre, she had determined, that all were too scared to speak of him. The nervous flutter of activity of the servants below only served to confum the girl's fears. Her stomach churned so badly, she was afraid she would be ill. That would be disastrous, for she would surely spoil her gown.

Her parents had been laid in their graves scarcely a few months past, and this new and alarming twist of destiny was more than Isabella's aching young heart could bear. Her whole world seemed to be crumbling down about her, and she was helpless to prevent it. She understood nothing of the customs and politics involved in the appointment of their warden. She knew only that a horrifying stranger was coming to take charge of their lives.

"Oh, Giles, what is to become of us?" she asked plaintively, gently squeezing his hand to reassure herself that he was real, that he had not been taken from her too.

The boy, though he wanted to offer his sister the words of comfort she so desperately craved, was as apprehensive as she and did not know how to answer her.

He shifted slightiy on his hard stool, taking care to be certain his silk doublet, neatly belted at the waist, looked as crisp and clean as it had when he'd donned it. Giles also had been sternly warned against disarranging his garments, and, being a lad well versed in his duties, mindfully heeded his tutor Master Jaksone's counsel.

"I do not know, 'Sabelle," the boy replied at last, his face as grave as her own.

"Tis awful... this waiting," Isabella said with a sigh.

"Aye, but it cannot go on much longer, dear sister. Do ye not hear the sentries heralding Lord Oadby's arrival even now?"

"Aye, but I wish I did not," she told him, her lovely little countenance rapt once more with dread. "Oh, Giles, why must he come here? Why can we not go on as before?"

"Because we are wards of the King."

"But I do not understand why. There are other children at Rushden whose parents died from the sickness. His Grace has sent no stranger to care for them."

"They are crofters, 'Sabelle," Giles reminded her gently, "and of no importance. We are nobles, dear sister," he stated, as though this would explain everything, as indeed it would have, had Isabella been older. "I am the Lord of Rushden now, and ye are its mistress."

It seemed odd to think of herself in her beloved mother's place, and the girl cried out against it fervently, with all the conviction of youth.

"Well, I wish I were poor and common!"

There was no time to say more, for just then, the stout oak doors of the keep were flung open wide, and Lord Oadby entered amid the servants' bows and curtsies. On his arm was the most startling woman that Isabella had ever glimpsed, and for a moment, her earlier misgivings were forgotten as she stared with shock and suspicion at the gaudy creature whom her mother would never have allowed to set foot inside the fortress.

The woman, Lady Beatrice Biggs, Countess of Shrewton, was clothed in the most appalling dress that Isabella had ever seen. A brilliant pink in color, it was cut so low across the bodice that not only did the Countess's small high breasts threaten to spill from the d6colletage, but the crests of her dark brown nipples could definitely be observed. She wore a vibrant green surcoat, edged with gold lace, and a gold mesh girdle adorned with a vulgar display of emeralds. Around her throat and wrists were a necklace and numerous bracelets set with the same jewels, which also sparkled in the earrings that dangled heavily from her ears. Atop her elaborately coiffed black curls perched a high, steepled pink cap from which trailed yards of billowing wisps of pink-and-grecn material. Closer inspection revealed that Lady Shrew-ton's face was not extremely pretty but had been carefully painted to give the appearance of being mysteriously attractive. Her flashing dark eyes seemed to slant seductively, being expertly outiined with black kohl and shadowed with pale green powder. Her thin,

pink rosebud lips pouted at the comers, and her nose lifted haughtily as she tossed her head and gazed about to be certain her entrance had been accorded the proper amount of attention. Upon perceiving that it had, she glanced down at Lord Oadby (for she was a head taller than he) and, with just a slight hint of a smile, struck him playfully with her fan.

"Lud, Percy," she trilled, "the place is as dark and gloomy as a dungeon."

Both Isabella and Giles gasped and stiffened at hearing their ancient home referred to in such terms. Why, Rushden Castle had stood since the time of William the Conqueror and was one of the finest keeps in all of England!

"Begging your pardon, my lady"—Sir Lindael, the master-at-arms, spoke up, deliberately misunderstanding the woman's meaning—"but we are still in mourning for the late Earl and Countess of Rushden."

The woman looked surprised for an instant, then, recovering, eyed the grizzled old knight with disfavor and replied, "Oh, aye, of course," before turning away coldly, as though guessing that Sir Lindael found her charms lacking, which indeed he did.

The master-at-arms was not at all pleased with the warden appointed by the King and thought Lord Oadby's mistress. Lady Shrewton, even less enchanting. Not for the first time since the deaths of the late Earl and Countess of Rushden did Sir Lindael wonder what was to become of Isabella and Giles. The minute the master-at-arms had entered the great hall, he had spied the two youngsters peering through the peep, and he knew they were filled with dismay at the sight of their warden.

Lord Oadby was so different from the children's father, they could not help but compare uncharitably the former to the latter. The late Earl had been a big, handsome man, whose generosity toward his family and his tenants had known few bounds. He had ruled his domain and all in it with the greatest of kindness and understanding, and though he had been stem, he had also been just. He had treated his yeomen fairly and their women with respect. No woman at Rushden had had to fear rape or abuse while the old Lord had been alive. He had loved his wife dearly and had never strayed from or stmck her, even in anger; and those who had not accorded their own wives the same measure had soon found themselves unwelcome at the fortress.

By contrast, Lord Oadby was short and portly, with a balding head, small, lascivious eyes, and a big red nose, the color of which. Sir Lindael was sure, stemmed from an overindulgence

in drink. Decked out like a garish Yule, Lord Oadby was garbed in a crimson silk cloak lined with green and an equally crimson satin doublet slashed with silver. His trunklike calves were encased in green hose, and he wore a pair of crimson shoes that curled up at the toes and from which hung tiny silver bells that tinkled as he, for all his bulk, minced along, a liberally scented, white lace handkerchief waving in one hand. The master-at-arms had no doubt that Lord Oadby was very wealthy and well placed at Court, for he could hardly have purchased the children's wardship otherwise; but nevertheless, the faithful knight was not impressed. He sighed to himself and shook his head. Hard times lay ahead, he feared, for he did not think that Lord Oadby would prove to be the equitable master the late Earl of Rushden had been. Akeady, Lord Oadby's leering, piglike eyes were roaming over the serving wenches appraisingly as he strutted and preened like a fat peacock before them; and for the first time in his long life at the castle. Sir Lindael saw fear on the maids' faces. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to God that Isabella was only five years old.

Upstairs, the two youngsters clasped hands even more tightly and gazed at each other with solicitude.

"Oh, Giles, he's even more horrid than I imagined," Isabella breathed, for she had not missed the way the usually friendly serving wenches had shrunk from Lord Oadby's rapacious assessment. "And that dreadful woman with him! Oh, Giles, do ye suppose that's his wife?"

"Nay," rejoined Giles, who was bright and had gleaned much from listening to the knights of the keep. "She's but his whore, 'Sabelle. God's wounds! He has brought his whore here to take our mother's place!"

In the children's eyes, this was an insult far worse than the one that had been delivered about their home: for their mother had been the most beautiful and gracious of ladies, and they had loved her dearly.

"Oh, Giles," Isabella whimpered again pitifully, her eyes filled with shame and fury at her helplessness to prevent this disgrace to their mother's memory. "What are we to do?"

"Nothing, 'Sabelle," her brother answered, his voice quivering with anger, his jaw suddenly hard and set, his face shadowed with hate. "We can do nothing, dear sister. But someday, I promise ye, I shall make that bastard pay for the insult he has delivered to us and ours; I swear it!"

"Not alone, dear brother, for I am with ye always in all things.

We must pledge our oath together, Giles," Isabella vowed, her fingers entwining even more firmly with his own. "We must make a pact to stand strong against this evil that has come into our lives and never forget this day."

"Agreed. Our blood on it, 'Sabelle," the boy demanded, drawing his jeweled dinner knife from his belt.

Solemnly, Isabella took her own blade from her girdle and slashed the palm of her hand, then pressed it against her brother's.

"Fiat!" they said as one. "Let it be done."

And in that moment was bom a bond between them they were to share for as long as they lived.

Later, when Isabella and Giles were summoned to the great hall below to meet their warden and his mistress, the defiance that had so strongly gripped the children earlier was carefully concealed behind masklike faces. When they were presented, Isabella dropped a small curtsy, and Giles gave a slight bow—both politely but without deference.

"Here, now. What's this?" the Countess drawled, lifting one wickedly arched black brow at the youngsters' greeting, which she considered lacking in courtesy. "Do ye understand to whom ye are being introduced? This is Lord Perceival Renfred, Earl of Oadby."

"Aye." Giles nodded coolly to the woman. "And I am Lord Giles Ashley, Earl of Rushden."

"It seems ye are well versed as to your status in society," Lord Oadby interjected sourly upon being reminded that Giles's rank was as great as his own.

"My father was a man who knew his worth, my lord," Giles replied softly, "and I am my father's son."

"Aye, I can see ye are indeed," the Earl observed, his eyes iiarrowing speculatively as he recalled the lad's renowned and mighty sire.

The boy was his father's spawn all right: Rushden—and all it stood for—to the core. Frownmg, Lord Oadby continued his unfavorable perusal of Giles. The Earl heartily despised children, though he had been the warden of many. He had found the role worthwhile, as he had reaped a vast harvest from very little seed. As with his past positions, he had purchased the Ashleys' wardship primarily because Rushden was a rich estate, and he fully intended to cram his purse with as much of its gold as he could steal without the King's knowledge. That the lad before him would doubtless someday discover his perfidy and seek to right

the injustice did not trouble Lord Oadby. He had akeady murdered one ward who had proven a nuisance. The Earl would not hesitate to contrive such an accident for Giles, should it become necessary to do so. Arrogantly, Lord Oadby dismissed the boy from his mind and turned to study Isabella.

A tempting little morsel, the Earl decided, though 'twould be some time yet before she was ripe for the picking. He licked his lips at the thought. There was nothing like the sweet taste of a budding maiden's innocence, and Lord Oadby, who had quickly found this one of the more pleasurable aspects of being a warden, had had his share of unspoiled fruit. The young boys given into his care might grow to manhood and call him to account for his misdeeds if he had not managed them cleverly, but the young girls were helpless against him. Ashamed and horrified, the maids whom the Earl had forcibly dishonored had not dared to cry out against his wicked treatment of them, lest their disgrace at his hands be revealed. Afterward, Lord Oadby had always been kind enough to arrange suitable matches for them, and he had even taken the time to instruct the ungrateful wenches on the art of deception that might be practiced on their wedding nights to fool their unsuspecting husbands. Only one maid had ever been brave enough to threaten him with exposure, and the Earl had quietly sold her to a Moorish whorehouse. He had made a tidy profit and had informed the King that the girl had died in Spain of some lingering complaint. Lord Oadby had shrugged. A pity the climate had not, after all, as the physician had suggested, proven beneficial to her health.

Now, he spoke to Isabella.

"And ye, my lady, are ye as well versed as your brother?" the Earl queried.

"I am my father's daughter, my lord," Isabella answered, parroting Giles's earlier response.