The Taming

by Jude Deveraux

  She turned to the farmer’s wife. “Take off your dress.”

  “My lady!”

  “Take off your dress and give it to me, then return to the castle. Find my maid, Joice, and tell her no one is to search for me.”

  The woman paled. “Your maid will never talk to the likes of me.”

  Liana tugged an emerald ring from her finger and handed it to the woman. “Nearby is a knight, probably searching for me. Give him this and he will take you to Joice.”

  The woman’s expression changed from fearfulness to slyness. “He is a handsome man, isn’t he?”

  Liana narrowed her eyes at the woman. “If I hear one word of this in the village, you’ll regret it. Now, get out of here.” She sent the woman away wearing only a coarse linen undergarment, as Liana wasn’t about to allow the woman’s filthy body to touch the velvet of her gown.

  The peasant dress Liana put on was very different from her high-waisted, full-skirted gown. The scratchy wool was one piece that clung to her body from her neck to below her hips, showing the slim curves of her body. The wool was crude and dirty and it stank, but it was revealing. She rolled the sleeves, stiff with years of grease, back to her elbows. The skirt reached only to her ankles and the shortness made her feel free to walk or even run through the ferns.

  With this dress on, Liana felt she was ready to face what lay ahead. She peeped through the branches to look at the man again. Every time she’d ever seen the peasants laughing and chasing one another through the fields came back to her. She’d once seen a boy give a flower to a girl. Would this divinely handsome man offer her flowers? Perhaps he’d weave a garland for her hair as one knight had done for her a few months ago—except this time it would be for real. This time the man would present her with flowers because of her person and not for her father’s wealth.

  Her heavy headdress removed and hidden in the bushes, her long pale hair streaming down her back, Liana stepped forward into the clearing and toward the man. He did not awaken even when she stumbled over a pile of rocks.

  She moved closer to him, but he didn’t stir. He was indeed a beautiful man, made the way God intended a man to look. She could hardly wait for him to see her. She’d been told that her hair was like spun gold. Would he think so?

  His clothes were in a heap not too far from him, and she went to them and lifted his shirt, holding it at arm’s length, putting her hands out to the wide edges of the broad shoulders. The wool was thickly spun, and she thought what a better job her women did at spinning.

  As she looked at the shirt she saw something odd, then leaned forward for a closer look. Lice! The shirt was crawling with lice.

  With a little squeal of disgust, she threw the shirt from her.

  One moment the man was asleep on the ground and the next he was standing before her in all his nude glory. He was indeed magnificent: tall, powerfully muscled, not an ounce of fat. His thick shoulder-length hair was dark, but it looked almost red in the sunlight, and there was a reddish stubble on his heavy jaw. His eyes were dark green and alive with emotion.

  “How do you do?” Liana said, holding out her hand to him, palm downward. Would he sink to one knee before her?

  “You threw my shirt in a bog,” he said angrily, looking down at the pretty blue-eyed blonde.

  Liana withdrew her hand. “It was crawling with lice.” What did one say to a huntsman when one was his equal? Lovely day, isn’t it? Would you like to fill my water jug for me? There, that seemed ordinary enough.

  He gave her an odd look. “You can get my shirt out of the bog and wash it. I have to go somewhere today.”

  He had a very pleasant voice, but she didn’t like what he was saying. “It’s good the shirt sank. I told you it was covered with lice. Perhaps you’d like to pick blackberries. I’m sure we could find—” To her consternation, the man grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward the pool, then gave her a shove.

  “Get my shirt out of the bog and wash it.”

  How dare he touch her without permission! Liana thought. Wash his shirt, indeed! She’d leave now and go back to her own clothes and her horse and the safety of her father’s castle. She turned away, but he caught her forearm.

  “Can’t you hear well, girl?” he said, spinning her about. “Either you get the shirt out or I throw you in after it.”

  “Throw me in?” she asked. She was on the verge of telling him who she was and just what she would or would not do when she looked into his eyes. Handsome eyes, yes, but also dangerous eyes. If she told him she was Lady Liana, daughter of one of the richest men in England, would he perhaps hold her for ransom?

  “I…I have to get back to my husband and…and children. Lots of children,” she said haltingly. She had liked this man’s aura of power when he was asleep, but when he was holding her arm, she didn’t like it nearly as much.

  “Good,” he said, “then, with lots of brats, you’ll know how to wash a shirt.”

  Liana looked toward the oozy black bog where only his shirtsleeve could be seen. She had no idea how to wash a shirt, and the idea of touching the lice-infested thing repulsed her.

  “My…my sister-in-law does my laundry,” she said, and was pleased with herself for having thought of such a good idea. “I’ll go back and send her to you. She’ll be glad to wash it.”

  The man didn’t say a word but pointed at the bog.

  She realized he was not going to allow her to leave. Grimacing, Liana walked toward the bog and leaned forward to reach the edge of the sleeve. She couldn’t reach it, so she stretched further—then further.

  She fell face forward into the rich, thick ooze of mud, her arms sinking to her elbows, her face covered. For a moment she struggled to get out of the bog, but there was nothing to hold on to. Then an arm swooped down and pulled her up to dry land. She stood there sputtering for a moment, then the man pushed her backward into the pond.

  Face forward into a bog, then backward into ice-cold water.

  She managed to get to her feet and started out of the pond. “I am going home,” she muttered, feeling close to tears. “Joice will make me a hot posset and build me a fire, and I’ll—”

  The man caught her arm. “Where do you think you’re going? My shirt is still buried.”

  She looked up into his cold green eyes and all fear of him left her. Who did he think he was? He had no right to order her about even if he thought she was the lowliest field gleaner. So he thought he was her master, did he?

  She was wet through and freezing, but anger was keeping her warm. She smiled what she hoped was an ingratiating smile at him. “Your wish is my command,” she murmured, and managed to keep a calm face when he grunted with satisfaction, as if that was the answer she was supposed to give.

  She turned her back to him and got a long stick from under a tree, then went back to the bog. She fished the shirt out, held it on the end of the stick for a moment, then with all her might, she sent it flying to hit him cold and hard smack across the face and chest.

  While he was peeling the shirt from his body, Liana began to run. She knew the woods better than any stranger ever could, and she went straight to a hollow tree and disappeared inside it.

  She heard him crashing through the woods nearby and she smiled to herself at his inability to find her. She’d wait until he was gone, then go to her horse on the other side of the pond and make her way home. If he was a huntsman, tomorrow she’d greet him in her father’s house and have the satisfaction of hearing his apology for his conduct today. Perhaps she’d borrow one of Helen’s gowns, something covered in furs, with a jeweled headdress. She’d sparkle so brightly he’d have to shield his eyes from the glare.

  “You might as well come out,” he said from just outside the dead tree.

  Liana held her breath.

  “You want me to come in after you? Or shall I chop the tree down around your ears?”

  Liana couldn’t believe he really knew where she was. Surely he was bluffing. She didn’t move.

>   His big arm came into the tree, caught her waist, and pulled her out—and against his hard chest. His face was smeared with black mud, but those eyes of his burned, and for a moment Liana thought he might kiss her. Her heart began to pound in her breast.

  “Hungry, are you?” he said, his eyes laughing at her. “Well, I haven’t got time. I have another wench waiting for me.” He pushed her from him and back toward the pond.

  Liana decided that merely appearing before him in a radiant gown would not be enough. “I shall make him crawl,” she muttered.

  “Will you, now?” he said, overhearing her.

  She whirled to face him. “Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “I will make you crawl. I will make you regret treating me like this.”

  He didn’t smile, in fact his face seemed made of marble, but his eyes showed amusement. “You’ll have to wait for that day, because now I intend to make you wash my clothes.”

  “I’d sooner—” She broke off.

  “Yes? Name your price, and I’ll see if I can manage it.”

  Liana turned away from him. It was better to just get it over with, to get his clothes washed and get away from him. Today he had the power, but tomorrow she would be the one who held the reins—and the whip and the chains, she thought with a smile.

  At the pond’s edge she stopped, refusing to obey him with any semblance of acquiescence. Her attitude seemed to amuse him further. He picked up his muddy shirt and slammed it against her chest so that, by instinct, she caught it.

  “Might as well do these too,” he said, and heaped her arms full of his other lice-infested clothing, then knelt down and washed the mud off his face.

  Liana gasped and dropped the load to the ground.

  “Get busy,” he said. “I need those clothes for courting.”

  Liana realized that the sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could get away from him. She grabbed a fist full of shirt, dunked it into the water, then slammed it against a rock. “She won’t have you,” Liana said. “She might like the look of you, but if she has any sense, she’ll jump from the town wall before she’ll agree to marry you.”

  He was stretched out on the grass in the sun, his head propped on his hands as he watched her. “Oh, she’ll have me, all right. It’s a matter of whether I’ll want her. I’ll marry no shrews. I’ll take her only if she’s biddable and soft-spoken.”

  “And stupid,” Liana said. She wanted to kill the lice, so she picked up a small rock and began pounding the clothes. Then, as she turned the shirt over, she saw the tiny holes the rock was making. Her eyes widened in horror, then she smiled. She’d clean his clothes for him all right, but they’d look like a fisherman’s net when she finished. “Only a stupid woman would have you,” she said loudly, hoping to distract him from what she was doing.

  “Stupid women are best,” he answered. “I want no clever woman. Clever women cause a man trouble. Are you done with those yet?”

  “They are filthy and need a lot of work,” she said as sweetly as she could manage. Thinking of his appearing at a girl’s door in clothes filled with holes pleased her. “And I guess women have given you a great deal of trouble in your life,” she said. His vanity was overwhelming.

  “Very little trouble.” He was watching her.

  Liana didn’t like the way he was looking at her. In spite of her wet clothes, he was making her feel very warm. He seemed lazy and quiet now, but she’d seen his anger and felt the violence just under his skin.

  “How many children did you say you have?” he asked softly.

  “Nine,” she said loudly. “Nine little boys, all of them big and strong like their father. And their uncles,” she added nervously. “My husband has six huge brothers, strong as oxen, and tempers! I never saw such tempers. Only last week—”

  “What a liar you are,” he said calmly, putting his head back down on the ground and not looking at her. “You’ve never had a man.”

  She stopped pounding the clothes. “I’ve had a hundred men,” she said, then stopped. “I mean, I’ve had my husband hundreds of times and—” She was making a fool of herself. “Here are your clothes. I hope they itch you to death. You deserve a body covered with lice.”

  She stood over him, then dropped the wet clothes on his hard, flat belly. He didn’t flinch from the cold but stared up at her with eyes that seemed warm and compelling. She wanted to leave him and she knew she was now free, but somehow she just stood there, her eyes locked with his.

  “Such good work must be rewarded. Bend to me, woman.”

  Liana felt herself sinking to her knees before him while he came up to meet her. He put his big hand behind her head, his fingers entwined in her hair, and pulled her lips to his.

  A few men had tried to kiss Liana, but they had never been so expert as this. His lips, so unlike his manner, were soft and warm and she closed her eyes to the sensation.

  The kiss was all she’d hoped a kiss could be and her arms moved to encircle his neck as she pressed her body to his, feeling his sun-warmed skin through her cold clothes. He moved his lips on hers, opening his mouth slightly, and she followed his lead. Her hands moved to his hair. It was clean from his swim and so warm she thought she could feel the redness of it.

  When he broke the kiss and moved away from her, she kept her eyes closed and leaned toward him, wanting more of him.

  “There, that’s enough,” he said with amusement in his voice. “A virginal kiss for a virgin. Now, go along home to whoever should have been protecting you and don’t go chasing after men again.”

  Liana’s eyes flew open. “Chasing after men? I was not—”

  He gave her a quick kiss, a twinkle in his eyes, before rising. “Spying on me from the bushes. You ought to learn what lust is before you try to inspire it. Now, off you go before I change my mind and give you what you’ve asked for. I’ve got more important business to tend to today than some hungry virgin.”

  It didn’t take Liana long to recover herself. She was on her feet in seconds. “I will freeze in hell before I am hungry for the likes of you.”

  He paused as he started to put a leg into a pair of wet braies. “I’m tempted to make you eat those words. No,” he said and began moving again, “I have other things to do. Perhaps later, after I’m married, you might come to me. I’ll see if I have time for you then.”

  There were no curse words vile enough to describe what Liana was feeling. “You will see me again,” she managed to say. “Oh yes, you will, but I do not think you will be so arrogant when we meet again. Pray for your life, peasant.” She stormed past him.

  “I do every day,” he called after her. “And I’m not—”

  She didn’t hear any more as, once in the trees, she pulled her gown and headdress from their hiding place and ran toward her horse. The animal waited quietly while Liana tore the woolen dress from her body. She flung it to the ground, then stamped on it, grinding it into the dirt.

  “Disgusting!” she said. “Filthy, dirty people,” she muttered. And she had thought the peasants’ lives romantic. They were so free! “They have no one to protect them,” she said to her horse. “If my guard had been here, he’d have skewered that swine. If Lord Stephen had been here, he’d have made him crawl. I would have laughed to see that red-haired devil kiss Lord Stephen’s shoe. What shall I do with him, Belle?” she asked the horse. “The rack? Drawing and quartering? Disembowelment? Burning at the stake? Yes, I like that. I’ll have him burned. I shall serve dinner, and his burning shall be the entertainment.”

  Dressed in her own clothes once again, she mounted her horse and gave a glance of hatred in the direction of the pond. She tried to imagine the man’s violent death, but then she remembered his kiss. She shook her head as if to clear away those thoughts. Again she tried to think of his burning, but she couldn’t get past imagining his beautiful form tied to the pole.

  “Damn him!” she cursed, and kicked her horse forward.

  She had not gone but a short distan
ce when she came to fifty of her father’s knights, suited in heavy armor as if going to war. Now they decide to look for me near the pond, she thought. Why didn’t they come when he was tossing her in the water or making her wash his clothes…or when he was kissing her?

  “My lady!” the lead knight exclaimed. “We have been searching for you. Have you been harmed?”

  “Actually, I have,” she said angrily. “In the forest on the east side of the pond is—” She stopped. She didn’t know why, but suddenly fifty men against one unarmed peasant seemed very unfair.

  “Is what, my lady? We will kill it.”

  “Is the largest flock of the prettiest butterflies I have ever seen,” she said, giving the man her most dazzling smile. “I lost track of time. I am so sorry if I worried anyone. Shall we return?” She turned her horse and rode ahead of the men, greatly puzzled by what she’d done. It would be better, of course, to wait and tell her father what had happened and how that awful man had treated her. Yes, that was it. She was just being sensible. Her father would know how to deal with him. Perhaps seal him inside a nail-studded barrel. Yes, that sounded like a good idea.

  Chapter

  Three

  Rogan watched the girl go and regretted the fact that he hadn’t had time for her. He would have liked to touch that pale skin of hers—and that hair! It was the color of the mane of a horse he’d owned as a boy.

  A horse killed in battle by the Howards, he remembered with bitterness, and pulled hard on the knitted, footed stockings.

  His big toe came through a hole just below the knee. Without thought, he pulled the hose over his toe then yanked on the braies again. His little toe stuck at the ankle. This time his clothing got his attention. He held the braies up to the sunlight and saw the hundreds of tiny holes. Now the stockings were holding together out of habit, but in a matter of days they’d start unraveling. He grabbed his shirt and saw that it too was full of holes, as was his woolen overtunic.

  Damn the presumptuous snippet of a girl, he thought with anger. Here he was to marry the Neville heiress and his clothes were falling off his body. If he ever saw that wench again, he’d—