by Denise Lynn
He headed up the steps, knowing full well that a battle of words would ensue the moment he walked into the chamber. The one night he’d planned on staying in town had turned into two and he’d not bothered to send word. Then again, she’d probably not even noticed his absence.
The guard at the top of the stairs nodded, then stepped aside, but the one outside the chamber was seated on the floor, his head resting against the wall, snoring. Is this how she’d been guarded?
Clearing his throat, Richard startled the guard. ‘You’re dismissed.’
The shame-faced man jumped to his feet, stuttering, ‘My...my lord, I—’
In no mood for excuses, Richard ordered, ‘Leave.’
He’d already lost a cherished daughter because he’d been so certain of her safety. That mistake would never be repeated.
Someone on this island was a traitor, they’d helped Glenforde and Richard had no way of knowing if that person was still on Dunstan or not. Until Glenforde was dispatched to his maker, along with his minion, Richard would not foolishly risk Isabella’s life.
He was not completely lacking in wits—he knew that if anything happened to her, her father would see to not just his death, but to Dunstan’s complete destruction.
Once the guard was gone from his sight, Richard cracked the door open slowly. Faint light from the glowing brazier lit the far corner of the room. The sound of gentle, even breathing coming from the bed assured him that his timing was near perfect—Isabella was sound asleep.
If he was quiet, perhaps he could slip into bed without her becoming aware of his presence. He opened the door as slowly as possible to ensure it didn’t creak, then stepped into the room, slamming his kneecap directly into a solid object.
A blistering curse escaped his lips. His knee throbbed in sharp pain. Without thinking, he kicked a bench out of the way. Obviously she had little faith in her guards.
Even though she said nothing, Richard knew she had to have heard his not-so-graceful entrance into the chamber.
He limped over to the bed, unbuckled his sword belt and propped the weapon alongside the bed before sitting down on the edge to remove his boots.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Going to bed.’ Even to his ears the words sounded curt.
‘You might try your own chamber.’
He tossed one boot on to the floor. Suddenly too tired to argue, he said simply, ‘I am.’ His other boot thudded next to the first.
She rolled on to her side, facing him. ‘Oh, no you aren’t.’
Richard pulled his tunic and shirt over his head in one swipe and dropped the clothing atop his boots. ‘Go to sleep.’
The bed shifted as she sat up. ‘Not here I won’t.’
‘I am in no mood to argue with you tonight. Just go to sleep.’ He rose to finish undressing.
She said nothing, but, grabbing a cover from the bed, Isabella carried it to a chair near the brazier.
He stared at her. Unless he took charge of this situation he knew he’d get no sleep. Without giving warning, he crossed the room and pulled her up from the chair. ‘You aren’t sleeping here.’
‘I am certainly not sleeping with you.’ Her eyes widened as if she’d just realised his state of undress. ‘You’re...naked.’
Richard grasped the skirt of her chemise and jerked the undergown over her head. ‘And now so are you.’ Before she could pull away, he picked her up and carried her over to the bed.
‘Put me down.’
‘Gladly.’ He dropped her on to the mattress and quickly climbed in behind her. Not giving her time to escape, he pulled her tight against his chest while drawing the covers over them.
He wasn’t certain what he noticed first—the warmth of her body against his, or the softness of her skin. Either way the combination was as intoxicating as any fine wine.
‘Let me go, Dunstan.’
Her voice was low, the tone laced with warning. A warning he chose to ignore. With his lips against her ear, he whispered, ‘Richard.’
‘Let me go, Richard.’
Sadly for her, using his name didn’t make any difference, he still wasn’t going to release her. Instead, while keeping one arm slung around her, he propped up his head with the other and, to irritate her further, rested his chin on her shoulder.
She tried pulling his arm away from her body. ‘Have you been drinking?’
‘No, why do you ask?’
‘You seem to have confused me with one of your whores.’
Whores? Her statement drew a laugh from him. ‘I fear you are mistaken, wife. I don’t have any whores, so I suppose...’ He paused to trail his mouth along her shoulder before saying, ‘You’ll have to serve that purpose.’
His attention to the side of her neck made Isabella shiver. She wished she could find the will to be revolted by his actions as much as she was by his words. ‘I am not serving as your whore.’
He paused, his chin once again resting on her shoulder. ‘Nor would I want you to.’
‘So, you don’t desire me?’ Isabella clamped her mouth shut. What had she been thinking to ask such a question? The whole idea was to somehow get through this entire winter without him turning into a rutting stallion. Otherwise, she’d never be granted an annulment.
‘Desire you?’ His voice was so deep, so near, that it threatened to take her breath away. ‘Any man with half a brain would desire you.’
She rolled her eyes at that statement. Glenforde obviously hadn’t.
‘I desire you more than you could possibly imagine.’
Isabella tensed. Did that mean she was in imminent danger of losing her virtue?
A soft laugh brushed against her shoulder, a warm rush of air that he chased with his lips. ‘Fear not, my dear, you are quite safe this night.’
She relaxed slightly, but remained alert. Even when her eyes were impossibly heavy to hold open, she fought closing them, fearful he would change his mind. What would she do in that case? While she would fight him as hard as she could, she was no match against his strength, so in the end it wasn’t as if she could physically stop him. Besides, from the odd warmth building low in her belly, she wasn’t all that certain she possessed enough will to fight him for long.
Why did his arm slung across her, resting against her chest, feel so...right? Why did his steady breaths, brushing against the nape of her neck, beckon her to relax and fall asleep? The last two nights in this bed had started out so cold, she’d shivered herself to sleep each night. But now, the warmth along her back and all the way to her toes was welcome.
He shifted slightly in the bed and she was once again awake, tense and on guard. When he moved his arm to reach up and cup her chin, she held her breath.
‘Just a kiss goodnight, Isabella. That is all.’ His lips briefly met hers before he settled on his side in the bed. ‘Go to sleep.’
Before she could determine why she found that kiss so lacking, the sound of gentle snoring drew her out of her bewilderment. Perhaps he had spoken the truth—she was in no danger this night of attention she did not want.
However, as much as she longed to find sleep herself, she realised that she now shivered from the cold.
The gown she’d been wearing to bed was on the floor on the other side of the chamber. He would most certainly wake up if she rose from the bed. And the blankets, which had been plentiful the last two nights, were now mostly wrapped around him, leaving her with barely enough to cover her body.
A quick tug on the covers gained her nothing. They were tucked so tightly under his body that she wasn’t going to get them free without rolling him off the bed. And as much as she’d like to do just that, he’d looked and sounded tired.
He probably was good and tired. Not because he’d spent the nights with some whore. She didn’t truly think that
was the case. She’d only accused him of doing so to see if it would anger him enough to leave the chamber. Unfortunately for her, it seemed that he found ignoring her barbs far too easy.
If he was anything like her father and brother, he’d likely spent so many long hours going over inventory and inspecting his ships that he hadn’t had any ambition left to come back to the keep. She couldn’t be certain, but felt fairly safe guessing there was a makeshift pallet in one of the warehouses. So, he probably needed a good night’s sleep.
And since that meant she would be able to sleep without trying to keep one eye open, she was more than happy to leave him to his dreams. But she didn’t wish to freeze in the meantime.
Isabella frowned, staring at him in the semi-darkness, and poked his arm, hoping it would irritate him enough that he’d roll over and free some of the covers. She quickly drew her hand back, waiting to see if she’d disturbed his sleep. But he didn’t budge and, once again, the sound of his heavy breathing met her ears.
If he could sleep through the poking, then surely he’d not wake up if she moved closer to share the warmth of the covers. Easing closer, she snuggled against him and pulled the blankets over her shoulder.
Before she could made sense of what was happening, he’d rolled on to his back and she found herself resting halfway across his chest, encircled within his arm. Pushing against his chest gained her nothing except a tighter embrace.
‘Let me go.’
He groaned softly and draped his other arm across his body so his hand rested on her hip. ‘You poked and prodded, tried to jerk the covers from me before seeking warmth. I am tired and obviously you were cold.’ He patted her hip. ‘Now, you aren’t, but I am still tired.’
‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘I was.’
His voice was rough with sleep and his embrace was warm without being threatening. Yet her heart raced as if she’d been running in fear of losing her life. ‘If you were asleep, how do you know what I did?’ She was amazed at the breathlessness of her voice.
‘Hmmm?’
She parted her lips to repeat her question, but closed them before doing so. Why risk waking him up all the way? Right now she was warm and while her body tingled wherever it touched his and hummed with curiosity, and unexpected anticipation, she too could easily fall asleep.
She snuggled closer against him, until his hand tightened on her hip, making breathing harder still. ‘Please, stop.’
It sounded as if he’d spoken through clenched teeth and, unwilling to risk awakening him further, she closed her eyes.
Chapter Eleven
Richard slowly opened his eyes, quickly shutting them against the pounding in his head. He moved to get up from the bed and groaned at the stiff soreness of his limbs and back. What the hell had happened for him to ache so much?
The chamber door opened. ‘Ah, you are finally awake, I see.’
He winced at Hattie’s lively greeting.
‘Where is my wife?’
The older woman answered with a ‘tsk’ and a shake of her head, before saying, ‘Lady Isabella has been up and about for most of the day.’
Most of the day? He sat up slowly, biting back another groan. ‘What time is it?’
‘Vesper bells have just been rung.’
Vesper? It was nearly nightfall? He arched his back. No wonder he ached from head to toe. ‘Why did no one think to wake me?’
‘Lady Isabella tried twice. After that she gave orders to leave you asleep.’
‘She what?’ They’d been married less than a week, weren’t even truly man and wife yet, and she was making decisions for his well-being? Richard knew his anger was foolish, there was no justifiable cause for it, but that didn’t change the fact he was still outraged.
‘Where is she?’
Hattie reared back at his snarling tone. ‘Where is who?’
Knowing the woman was intentionally being obtuse, he glared at her. ‘Where is Isabella?’
‘Below.’ She made a show of picking his clothes up from the floor with two fingers, holding them aloft a moment, before tossing them at him. ‘Cleaning.’
Of course she was. Since he’d already informed her that the condition of his keep was none of her concern, she would naturally set about making it her concern. Probably just to spite him. He jerked on his clothing.
Hattie suggested, ‘You might want to eat something before you go storming below.’
‘Why would I eat now?’ Richard pulled on his boots and rose. ‘The evening meal will be served soon.’
‘I was thinking more of your foul mood than your empty stomach.’
Before he could reply to her comment, Hattie left the chamber. Of course he was in a foul mood. After all, he...he... Richard sat back down on the edge of the bed. He felt like a raging bull. For no apparent reason other than his wife had let him sleep.
A weak defence even to his own ears.
No. He was the lord here. He could wake up in a foul mood any time he desired and no one could stop him. Although having a reason for such a foul mood made one appear less unbalanced.
Richard slapped a hand on the bed and rose. God’s teeth, he was thinking in circles like an old woman. Out of habit, he started to strap on his sword, then changed his mind and tossed the belt, scabbard and weapon on the bed.
He strode towards the door, then spun about. Perhaps just a little something to take the edge off his grumbling stomach might be in order. Richard crossed the chamber to the alcove where Hattie had placed bread, cheese, slices of apple and a pitcher of water on the small table.
He frowned, noticing the slick shininess of the old tabletop, then studied the rest of the chamber. Cleaning? Is that what they called this? This chamber had been redone from ceiling to floor. It shone in a way it hadn’t since he was a young lad.
Years of soot and grime had been stripped from the walls and they’d been repainted, the bedding and linen washed. He glanced behind him to find that even the old tapestry hanging on the back wall of the alcove had once again come to life. The colours of the threads appeared brilliant instead of dull with age. He’d nearly forgotten the details of the stitched hunting scene.
He intentionally crunched the rushes and strewing herbs beneath his foot, only to have the scents of lavender and rosemary waft up against his nose. The floorboards beneath gleamed as if they’d been freshly scrubbed and oiled.
A tour of the chamber brought other changes to light. The mattress had been restuffed and the covering cleaned, the skins on the narrow windows were obviously new since they were no longer brittle and cracking. The small tables alongside the bed also showed signs of a recent polishing cloth. The candles in the floor sconces were beeswax instead of tallow. Had he paid any attention last night he would have noticed that the telltale stench of rendered animal fat no longer permeated the room.
In a corner, near the alcove, a clothing chest had been placed beneath a row of wall pegs. Richard ran his fingers over the fur lining of his hooded mantle hanging on one of the pegs. From the fresh smell and softness of the fur, it too had found itself put through a rigorous cleaning. He opened the lid of the chest to find that all of his clothes had been washed, dried, folded and neatly stacked inside. Sachets of sandalwood and cedar at the bottom of the chest would keep the moths away while at the same time ensure the clothing retained a fresh scent.
The lid fell with a thud. Yes, she’d been busy these last couple of days. But Isabella couldn’t have done all of this alone. She’d obviously had help. And he doubted if that help had come from the few women he’d sent back to the keep.
So not only was she seeing to the condition of the keep, she was ordering his men about to do so?
The door to the chamber opened and the town carpenter stopped in the doorway. He doffed his cap, twisting it in his h
and, said, ‘Forgive me, my lord, I thought you were elsewhere. I can come back later.’
‘Why are you here?’
‘The lady wants the door reversed. But I can—’
‘No. Go ahead. I was just leaving.’
Even though she’d overstepped her bounds, he wasn’t going to take that up with the carpenter. He’d seek out Isabella instead. Although the door should have been fixed years ago. The only reason it was on backwards was because when he was a small boy he’d picked up the habit of locking himself in the chamber and after his father had had to have the door removed to gain entrance more than once, he’d ordered it rehung to swing out into the passageway and lock from the outside.
Richard headed down to the Great Hall. He paused at the bottom of the steps. At least nothing had changed here. The boisterous shouts and laughter of his men scraped across his ears in a familiar manner, irritating him in the usual way.
Conal spied him and approached. ‘I see you woke up just in time to eat and go to bed.’
Richard nodded towards the mostly drunken assembly. ‘And I see you’ve made yourself useful in my absence.’
‘Since I know the workload ahead of us, I thought we’d take advantage of a workless day.’
‘That’s rather obvious.’ He glanced around the hall—most of these men would be near useless on the morrow. ‘Where is my wife?’
‘Last I saw her she was headed towards your chambers.’
Richard paused outside the door to his bedchamber. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he might find beyond the door. From what he’d gathered from a few of his men during his walk across the hall, she’d so far confined her cleaning to the chamber above.
If he ignored the fact that he’d told her not to concern herself with his keep, then what she’d done wasn’t a terrible thing. He didn’t like it, but it wasn’t a crime worthy of punishment. However, there remained the fact that she’d taken it upon herself to employ the help of his people and men without consulting him first.
