Prisoner of My Desire

by Johanna Lindsey

  finished, she was sure he wanted to speak to her. But his lord?s order held his

  tongue, for he was a man who followed orders down to the smallest detail.

  But as he turned to leave, he growled at the man who held the torch.

  ?Leave that and fetch the jailer so he can bring her a pallet and what other

  necessities are needful.?

  She had not realized until the door closed her in that awful cell that she might

  have been left in darkness. She was left in silence, however. Her ears strained

  to hear the parting footsteps, but the sound did not last long. Then there was

  the sound of rats scurrying across the floor above her.

  Chapter 14

  Rowena knew she was in trouble when the jailer showed up with only two thin

  blankets for her to sleep on and a rusty tin of water. He was a heavyset man in

  his middle years, with scraggly brown hair and watery eyes and a stink about his

  person that nearly gagged her. He had beer surprised at first sight of her,

  amazed actually but that did not last more than a moment, am then he did not

  even try to hide his delight that she was there. He was so pleased, he was close

  to laughing as he explained the routine he followed and that she would have to

  abide.

  He would feed her only once a day, and she had already missed this day?s meal,

  so she would have to wait until the next one. And if she wanted better than

  moldy bread and water, she would have to think of some way to pay him for it.

  Her fine bliaut might get her some butter and cheese for a fortnight, but after

  that? She was to relieve herself in the corner of the cell, and he might or

  might not get one of the stable lads to shovel it out once a week. There would

  be no water for bathing. He was not a lackey and he refused to haul buckets of

  water from the well, even though the wellhead was close by. She was to give him

  no complaints, or he might forget to feed her. If she wanted aught better,

  including another torch, she would have to pay for it.

  Rowena managed to keep the horror from her expression during this recital. She

  knew what manner of payment he was anticipating. Twas there in his eyes, which

  returned repeatedly to her breasts and hips. She could say now that she would

  never, ever touch that stinking swine, but how would she feel a month from now?

  Even a sennight? She had not eaten last eventide, nor this day. Already she felt

  some weakness along with her hunger pangs. And no torch? Was she to be entombed

  in darkness permanently, looking eagerly toward this foul man?s visits simply

  because he would carry a torch with him?

  She could not have spoken if she tried, but he was not displeased by her silence.

  He even gave in to a chuckle, finally, when he left. As soon as the door closed,

  however, Rowena sat down on the blankets and cried. Her torch would last but a

  few more hours, and then? She did not mind the dark, truly, but she had never

  had to endure it without having the means to make light close to hand, and she

  had never had to endure it in a place like this, with rats nearby.

  She was so sunk in misery she did not at first hear the loud argument coming

  from the guardroom. But it was a short argument, and the last of it ?Be gone!?

  she did hear clearly. Moments later, she cringed inwardly as her door was opened

  again. But ?twas not the jailer who came in with a brace of candles and set them

  down in the center of the cell. This man was a little older, and his surprise at

  his first sight of her lasted much longer. But then he looked around at what she

  had been given, and he swore foully.

  ?That whoreson, and I will wager he did not feed you either, did he?? Rowena

  blinked, then shook her head slowly.

  ?Aye/tis as I thought, and him bewailing he wants the job. Wants it! He hates it,

  and well he should, but I can see now why he changed his mind about that. Such a

  tiny thing you are, and so pretty. It must be some heinous crime Lord Warrick

  thinks you guilty of, to put you here, but I am sure ?twill be straightened out

  once he comes.?

  Rowena just stared. She knew not what to make of this man and his tirade. He was

  certainly indignant about something, but she was not sure what.

  He did not frighten her, however, as the other man had. Verily, there was such

  kindness in his light blue eyes, she almost started crying again.

  He must have noticed, for he said gruffly ?Here now, none of that. ?Twill not be

  so bad, your stay with us. ?Tis a deplorable place to put a lady, but private

  for all that, and I will see what I can do about cheering it up for you.?

  Cheering up a dungeon? She could not help but smile at such an incongruous

  thought.

  ?Who are you?? she thought to ask.

  ?John Giffard I am called.?

  ?Are you a jailer also, then??

  ?Only when ?tis needful, which is not often. But I was just rousted from my fire

  to be told only I am to have the care of you. Tis late in coming, that order,

  though better late than not at all. That whoreson did not hurt you, did he??

  Which whoreson? she almost asked, but realized in time that he was speaking of

  the other jailer.

  ?Nay, he did not touch me. But then/tis your lord?s order that no one is to

  touch me, to assist me or otherwise, nor am I to be spoken to. Were you not told

  that you are not to speak to me??

  ?Nay, no one said aught of that, nor would I mind it if ?twere said. I do as I

  will and always will, though I have a few stripes on my back that tried to

  convince me otherwise.?

  ?Twas incredible, the anger she felt on his behalf.

  ?Who whipped you??

  ?Nay.?

  He chuckled.

  ?Never you mind. Twas long ago, and my own stubbornness the cause. Now, let me

  see what I can find for you at this late hour. The kitchen is like to be locked

  up tight by now, but I warrant there will be some fruit at least in the stores

  above.?

  He found her four plump apples freshly picked, which more than satisfied her

  hunger. But that was not all he found. He brought in a narrow wooden frame and a

  plump mattress heaped with warm bedding. He found an old, faded rug that covered

  nearly all the floor space. Another trip produced a crate to set her candles on,

  and a box with a supply of replacements so she need not deal with the darkness

  after all. There was a chamber pot, a bucket of water with cloths for washing up,

  and cold, fresh water to drink.

  John Giffard was a godsend. He turned her dungeon cell into a room that was, if

  not pleasant, at least very comfortable. He brought her two large meals a day,

  food that was fit for the lord?s table. He kept her well supplied with fresh

  water as well as bathwater. He brought her a needle and thread to keep her hands

  busy, and himself to keep her mind busy. He spent a great deal of time with her

  every day, gossiping about this and that, mostly nonsense. He simply loved to

  talk, and she loved to listen to him.

  She knew she had Sir Robert to thank for John Giffard. He must have known what

  the other jailer was like, and also that this one had a good and kind heart.

  Robert had taken pity on her after all, though Warrick de Chaville was not like

  to thank him for it. But
she would thank him if ever she had the chance.

  The days turned into a week, then two, the three. When Rowena finally noticed

  that the thru of her monthly flux had come and passed without flow, she sat down

  and laughed hysterically. Gilbert?s plan had actually worked. That damn churl?s

  seed had taken root with only three nights? trying. But Kirkburough was gone.

  From the road they had stopped to watch the smoke billow above the treetops as

  every wooden building and floor caught fire. There was naught left for a child

  to secure; a child conceived for only that purpose was useless now.

  After the mad laughter came tears, a veritable flood of them mixed with self

  pity. What had she done to deserve this ill fate? What would happen when Warrick

  de Chaville returned to Fulkhurst?

  John Giffard would no doubt be taken from her, that was what, and all the

  comforts he had given her. That other jailer would return, or one like him. And

  would de Chaville even care that she was with child? Nay, he wanted her to die.

  She did not think that begging him at least for the child?s life would work. He

  had not wanted Kirkburough. He had destroyed it, so he would not care about the

  child if she said it was Lyons heir. But the child was hers, too, and his

  purpose in getting rid of her would be defeated if she left an heir to all that

  was hers.

  She would not have to worry about giving birth in a dungeon. She would not be

  allowed to live that longunless Fulkhurst did not return. And would not his war

  with Gilbert, who still had Lyons army, keep him away for long? If she could

  just have the child before Fulkhurst even knew of it, she was sure she could

  convince John Giffard to find a home for it.

  Rowena was not certain when the child became her first concern. It might have

  been conceived for the wrong purpose, might have lost its usefulness, but she

  considered none of that. It was hers. It did not even matter that its father was

  an overlarge lout who had hated her every touch. Its father? h .

  She had too much time to think in that dungeon, and too often her memories dwelt

  on Lyons substitute. She did not like that, but she seemed to have no control of

  it. If she closed her eyes, she could still see him stretched out before her,

  his body had been so memorable. She could still recall what it had made her feel

  like, the heady power in being able to control that body no matter how much he

  fought against it.

  She had not lied when she had told him she was glad it was him. She had not

  enjoyed taking him, but after the original pain, it had not been unpleasant to

  touch him, or to taste him. He did not repulse her, did not make her gag with

  his clean smell. And he was very appealing to the eyeexcept for those silver

  eyes of his that hated her with such passion. But before she had first spoken to

  him, those eyes had been lovely, had made him very handsome despite the gag that

  had distorted his mouth.

  She had not heard John approach until the door opened with its usual creak to

  draw her from her pensiveness. He was not wearing his usual pleasant smile and

  seemed disturbed about something. And then?

  ?Are you breeding, Lady Rowena??

  She stared at him in amazement. She had not been sick of a morn, as some women

  suffered, nor had her breasts enlarged the tiniest bit yet.

  ?How did you know??

  ?Then you are??

  ?Aye, but how?

  ?I had not thought of it this soon, but my lord asked if you had had yourahwoman?s

  time yet, and I realized you had not asked me for extraahcloths. Why did you not

  tell me??

  ?I only just realized it myself. But what do you mean, your lord asked? When??

  ?Just now.?

  Rowena lost what color she had maintained in that sunless room.

  ?He has returned??

  ?Aye, and I am to bring you to him now.?

  Chapter 15

  Rowena did not beg John not to take her to his lord. There would be no point to

  it. If he did not take her, someone else would come and get her. But she wanted

  to plead. All she could remember of Fulkhurst was his bigness and that slash of

  cruelty that was his mouthand that icy coldness in his voice when he had sent

  her to his dungeon.

  She barely noticed the Great Hall as she was led through it. ?Twas only the

  middle of the afternoon, so there were not so many people about, mainly servants

  busy at some task, a few soldiers, a few knights of no great stature.

  It was to the lord?s solar that she was taken, a large room beyond the hall. It

  was bright with sunlight streaming in through two deep set window alcoves, one

  on each side of the hooded fireplace. The large bed was four posted and finely

  curtained. It was set against the stone wall that divided the hall, so in winter

  it would have the added warmth of the great hearth in the hall heating the

  stones behind it.

  There were other things to note, but Rowena was so arrested by the sight of what

  looked like a pile of chains in the center of the bed, she did not notice the

  man standing on the other side of the bed, not until he came around it.

  His very height proclaimed him, if his fine black tunic and chausses did notand

  his mouth, aye, that thin, cruelly shaped slash. It took her a moment more to

  see the dark blond hair, not quite brown with its golden sheen, and then the

  eyes, silver and blazing with emotion.

  Her own eyes grew enormous, the single word ?You? formed on her lips without

  sound, and then merciful blackness rose up to engulf her.

  ?Here now,? John grunted as he caught her just before she hit the floor.

  Warrick leaped forward to almost yank her out of the older man?s arms. He

  carried her to the bed and laid her out on it. One of her small hands came to

  rest on the chain beside her. She would feel it when she awoke. He smiled.

  ?I cannot imagine what caused that, my lord,? John said anxiously at his back.

  ?She has been eating good.?

  Warrick did not take his eyes off the flaxenhaired wench.

  ?So you did pamper her? She has no rat bites to scar that smooth skin??

  John?s answer was a loud snort. Warrick knew his man. John was well known for

  his soft heart and gentleness with all creatures.

  Warrick had been furious with himself after he had sent the order that John

  Giffard alone was to guard her. But he did not send another man to rescind it.

  He did not want her to suffer until he was there to make her suffer. And he did

  not want her small, delicate body shrunken with deprivation, not for what he

  planned. But mostly, he wanted no other man to touch her, at least not until he

  knew if she had been successful in her thievery. According to John, she had been.

  ?She is such a sweet, gentle lady, my lord. What did she do to warrant the

  dungeon??

  ?Her crime was against me personally, so great I cannot speak of it.?

  ?Surely not!?

  ?You have let that pretty face fool you, John. She is naught but a greedy wench

  who wouldst do aught, no matter how atrocious, to see her ends met. She

  possesses a stubborn core of determination worthy of a man. She? He stopped,

  realizing he was saying more than was necessary. He did not need to explain his

  motives to
any man.

  ?I have stripped her 6f the title she gained in wedding Godwine Lyons, so call

  her lady no more. And you need not concern yourself with her further. She will

  not return to the dungeonfor now.?

  Warrick felt John?s need to argue, though he did not look back at him to see it.

  The man would be wise not to overstep his bounds this once, and John must have

  sensed that, for he quietly left the solar without saying anything more. Warrick

  continued to stare at his prisoner, not even minding that her faint was denying

  him his revenge. He could be patient now that the time was finally at hand,

  though he had not been patient until now. Yet he had stayed away apurpose,

  knowing full well that he could not be here without beginning the revenge he had

  decided on. Only that would not suit. He had to know first if the wench had been

  successful in her greedy scheme.

  Now he knew, and that doubled her crime against him. If he had thought to spare

  her even a little, which he had not, her breeding settled the matter, and

  brought his fury back with a vengeance. She carried his child. She had no right

  to it?t He had known the very moment she recognized him, had seen the fear that

  had caused her to faint. He had gloried in that fear. He had not been sure if

  she had recognized him in Robert?s borrowed armor in the bailey at Kirkburough.

  Now he knew she had not. But she did now. And mayhap by now she had learned what