by Sarah Hegger
After this meal is over, she promised herself. If she had to take him at sword point, she would speak with him. The chasm between them seemed to carve her in pieces. That Guy would demand her oath in this manner hurt more than she could have imagined.
Helena waved away the offer of more meat. Her stomach was too knotted to partake further.
Right then she made her choice. She would give the oath Guy asked for. It was the right decision. The certainty of that knowledge settled over her churning stomach. She did trust Guy. Even when they had been battling for power in the days when he first arrived, she’d never suspected his motives. She’d hated his domineering manner and resented his dominion over her, but she had always known he was just as he appeared to be. There were no veils hiding the truth within Guy. I must tell him so.
Now that the plan was formed, Helena was doubly eager for the meal to be over. She would find Guy and tell him he had her trust, her oath, and do what she must to heal the breach.
Without him, she was hollow inside.
Helena nearly screamed her frustration when she found the bailey empty of all sign of her husband. She’d seen him leave the table and head through the screens. It had taken her only a few moments to extricate herself from her dinner companion. Now, Guy had disappeared again. The man could move faster than if he were mounted. There were people everywhere, but not the one she sought. The stables. He always checked on his horses before retiring for the night.
Lifting her skirts, she ran across the inner bailey. The ground was churned from many hooves and her light slippers grew muddied, but Helena didn’t stop.
The stables were quiet. A few young boys were playing a game of stones at the far end. There was no sign of Guy. Helena moved deeper into the stables until she found Titan. The stallion whickered a soft greeting and tossed his head.
“Are you following me?”
Helena started at the sound of Guy’s voice. His chest pressed against her back.
Relief weakened her knees and she spun to face him. The support of the post was welcome against her shoulders. “I have been following you all day, but this is the first I have seen of you.”
He loomed over her, his face cast into shadow by the dim light in the stables. “Dinner?” He raised a dark brow. His hands rested on the cross beams on either side of her post, caging her.
Helena could feel the heat from his body and her blood pulsed in response. “I could not speak with you at dinner,” she replied.
Though his eyes seemed horribly remote, she dared to put her hands on his chest. “I do trust you, Guy.” The warm strength beneath her palms steadied her. “I was wrong this morning.”
There was a strange, wild look in his eyes that called to her blood. He lowered his head to her neck, his lips hot against the skin of her throat. Heat shot straight through to her core. “Guy—”
“Hush,” he rasped against her throat. “No words.” He drew his teeth across her delicate skin.
Cool air caressed her legs as his hands gathered her skirt and inched it up over her knees. Her body responded instantly, needing to feel this animal connection with him, to reassure him with her body. Between her thighs she grew ready for him. He growled as his fingers found her wet and hot.
He pushed his foot between hers, forcing her legs further apart as his fingers slid deep into her silken heat. Helena arched against his touch, groaning into his willing mouth whilst his thumb stroked the tiny bundle of sensation at her apex. Moment by moment he increased the pace. Her completion began to tighten through her body.
Hard by, the boys continued their game and she brought her fist to her mouth to stifle her cries.
Guy dropped to his knees before her, replacing his fingers with the heat of his mouth. Helena moaned into her clenched fist as he moved his mouth against her. Her breath came in short pants while his fingers continued to ply her and his mouth laved and sucked on that sweet spot. The fingers of her free hand sank into his hair.
Her climax came suddenly, shuddering through her until her knees weakened and she grabbed onto his shoulders for support.
He rose, loosening his braies. He lifted her and wrapped her weakened legs around his waist, uttering a harsh, guttural moan as his shaft found her heat. He placed his hands between the post and her back as he drove into her.
It was not a gentle coupling, but a claiming as he thrust within her again and again. Helena found herself swept along by the tide, surrounded by the feel and scent of Guy. Again her body quickened around him until she shattered, her inner muscles milking his release.
For a few moments he rested lightly against her, then tightened his grip on her as he slid from her body. Helena let her legs drop back to the ground, but still he bore most of her weight. He held her thus for the longest time.
The wind chilled her exposed limbs and the myriad sounds of the stable intruded. She stirred in his arms.
“I am sorry for doubting you,” she whispered.
His arms tightened briefly before her released her. “Aye,” he grunted and helped her straighten her skirts. “I, too, am sorry. I have failed you.”
He was gone before she could reply.
Chapter 23
“Come on, Nell.” Colin urged her out of the keep shortly after Matins.
Guy hadn’t joined her last night. He wasn’t in the hall to break his fast, either. Bridget told her he’d spent the night in the hall, not sleeping, but on guard.
“What is your hurry?” Helena struggled to keep up with Colin’s longer legs as he urged her across the bridge. “Are we going into the forest?” She stopped. “Guy won’t like me going in there without an escort.”
A look of frustration darkened Colin’s face. “I am your escort,” he snapped.
She glared at him and he immediately softened his tone. “Just a short ways, Nell. We cannot speak in the keep without the risk of being overheard.”
Helena had had enough. This was pure foolishness.
She hurried after him as he skirted through the tents in the clearing. “Colin, I must speak to you.”
“We will speak,” he called over his shoulder. “Follow me.”
Helena didn’t want to go into the forest with Colin. Not with matters so unsettled with Guy. Verily, she didn’t want to go the end of the lane with Colin. She wanted Guy. He’d left her so abruptly the night before. She didn’t understand what he’d meant upon leaving her, but she couldn’t be a part of Colin’s plan. If she could catch up with him, she would tell him so, but Colin was already slipping into the thicket skirting the forest.
“Nell,” Colin urged and she quickened her pace, irked that she must keep chasing after him. She toyed with the idea of just letting him go on without her, but she didn’t like the look in Colin’s eye. If he were planning something, she needed to know about it. It could not bode well for Guy, or her, if Colin was about to do something stupid.
“Would you wait?”
The day was warm and the shelter of the trees was delightfully cool by contrast. There were no braying courtiers or table-thumping kings in the forest, just the gentle swell of birdsong and the soft patter of smaller creatures. If she were not so intent on catching up with Colin, she might take a moment to enjoy the respite.
“Come,” Colin urged from just ahead of her.
“Nay.” She wasn’t going to hare after him for the remainder of the day. She needed to get back to the keep. “I am not taking another step. We are far enough from the keep and we will speak now.”
Silence greeted her pronouncement. “Colin?”
“Here.” His voice was faint and over to her left.
“Come back,” she demanded.
“Just a little further.”
Helena heaved a sigh of annoyance. She would find Colin, set him straight and then get back to the
keep. She needed to find Guy and discover what he meant by having failed her, more than a little concerned for what he might do.
She raised her skirts and stomped toward Colin. Her light slippers were becoming mired in the damp floor of the forest. She growled in annoyance at the hem of her gown. This was her best bliaut and mud and leaves clung to the hem. Bridget would have her head for this.
Colin stood in a small clearing, his eyes darting furtively betwixt the trees.
“What are you looking for?” She huffed irritably as she drew closer. “Do you think there are spies lurking in the trees on the happenstance that you come this way to plot Ranulf’s death? Verily, Colin—”
“Hush.” He motioned her to silence and peered intently ahead.
Then she heard it, too, the sound of someone moving heavily through the undergrowth.
Rosalind waddled into sight from behind a large tree.
Helena cursed under her breath. The woman had grown even more rotund. Helena had little to no knowledge of birthing, but Rosalind’s time looked nigh.
“You should not be here,” Helena snapped. She couldn’t be bothered with polite small talk.
The other woman cocked her head on one side. “Should you?” she countered silkily.
“Nay.” Helena folded her arms over her chest. “I should not. I will be returning to the keep, just as soon as I talk some sense into my cousin.” She gave Colin a hard stare.
He was barely listening to her, but instead glared at Rosalind with unconcealed dislike.
“I am turned about,” Rosalind said at last. “Is that what you are doing here? Alone with the man you wanted to marry before Guy came to Lystanwold.”
Helena stuck her chin out. She had no intention of explaining herself to Rosalind. “You are lost?” she enquired. “Is Willie not with you?”
“That one.” Rosalind rolled her eyes. “He cannot bear to be parted from Geoffrey. He is convinced if he leaves his friend’s side, Geoffrey will expire on the spot.”
“How is Geoffrey?”
“He is a sweet lad, young and strong.” Her face softened. She didn’t look so much like a conniving vixen with that expression on her face. “I was just walking, gathering some more herbs and I lost track of where I was. The child befuddles my mind.” She rubbed a hand over her belly. “I heard voices and came toward you.”
There was a sack slung crosswise over Rosalind’s chest and Helena could see small bits of greenery peeking out. “I could have been anyone, you know. You should be more cautious,” she said. If she’d been Rosalind’s husband or someone who was acquainted with him, the game would be up.
“I realize that,” Rosalind snapped. “And I would not have shown myself had I not recognized your voice.”
“Nell,” Colin grumbled from across the clearing. “There is no time for this, we need to move on.”
“Time for what?” Rosalind asked.
“Naught,” Helena bit out, turning her back to her cousin. “I am returning to the keep.”
Rosalind wore an irksome, knowing look.
“Your husband is with the king,” Helena added snidely. Let that be a warning to her not to go traipsing through the woods this close to the castle.
Rosalind nodded but didn’t argue. “Mayhap you could point me in the right direction?”
“We could take you.” Colin moved closer.
Helena swung to stare at him. Colin was behaving very strangely.
“There is no need for that,” she said, unwilling to spend the rest of her morning in Rosalind’s company. “It is just a little ways in that direction.” She pointed through the trees to their right. “Rosalind would have found it herself soon enough.”
“For shame, Nell,” he chastised. A hectic gleam glistened in his eyes and his cheeks had grown flushed. “We cannot leave Lady Rosalind to fend for herself, in her condition.”
Helena opened her mouth to state that she could, indeed, leave Rosalind to fend for herself and then clamped it shut. She was being uncharitable. The woman looked due to give birth at any moment. It wouldn’t take long to lead her back to the cottage.
“Very well,” she grumbled and turned to start walking toward the cottage.
“Nell,” Colin urged. “It is this way.”
“It is not,” she retorted with a frown. “It is through here.”
“I feel sure you are wrong,” Colin chided.
Helena ground her teeth. This entire morning was a misguided meander into idiocy. “You are mistaken, Colin.”
Colin’s face darkened. “I have hunted this forest my entire life and I can tell you it is this way. Come along now, Nell. It is just a short ways and then I will get you back to Lystanwold.”
There was something not right with Colin. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“I believe I will return on my own,” she said slowly.
“Nay!” Colin sprang forward to catch her arm, but Helena moved out of his reach. “You cannot return unescorted. Guy will be wroth.”
“Guy will be more wroth that she was here with you,” Rosalind snorted.
“Enough!” Helena shouted. “I have had my fill of the both of you.” She spun to Rosalind and warned, “I would be more careful, were I you, for one never knows what sort of creature wanders these woods.”
“You will not be going anywhere.”
Before her shocked eyes, a man stepped to block her retreat. He was a rough sort, large and unkempt as a wolfhound. Helena’s heart skipped and then pounded, hard.
Do not show fear. “Step aside,” she demanded. “I am Lady Helena of Lystanwold and I must return to the keep.”
“I believe not.” The man grinned at her. His teeth flashed white beneath his bushy beard.
“Who are you?” She didn’t like the look of him. When he remained silent and then a second man slipped out from between the trees, her stomach tightened in unease.
“My part is done,” Colin spoke suddenly.
Helena spun around to look at her cousin.
“You stay here,” the ruffian warned from behind her.
“Colin?”
“Just be sensible, Nell, and all will be well.” Colin kept his eyes averted.
The first stirring of true misgiving churned in her belly. “What have you done?” The words rasped out of her throat.
“Who’s that?” The large man jerked his head toward Rosalind
“That’s Lady Rosalind.” Colin’s expression grew mutinous. “She came across us and I had no choice but to bring her along.”
“Sir Ranulf is not going to like this,” the other man growled.
Bolts of renewed shock shot through her body. Ranulf!
She could barely think past the sound of the name. Fear set her limbs to quaking. She backed away and hit a wall of human flesh.
“Grab her!”
Too late, Helena turned to run. A hard arm fastened around her neck and jerked her back.
“Steady,” another rough voice muttered in her ear. He reeked of onions; his arm bruised her throat. She lashed out with her feet but her thin slippers were no protection against the man’s hard leg. A sharp pain blossomed in her heel. The grip around her neck tightened, cutting off her airflow. Helena choked and struggled for air, clawing at the arm that constricted her. His grip clenched even tighter. Spots danced before her eyes.
“Stop it,” he snarled. “Or I will throttle you dead.”
Helena ceased her struggles. She was of no use to herself if she fainted from lack of air. There were now four men grouped with Colin, one confronting Rosalind.
“We were never told about no Lady Rosalind!” The first man strode toward Colin, who stumbled back a few steps.
“Then kill her,” he shrieked. “Just kill her and be done w
ith it. I was told to bring Helena and I did. I am finished here.”
“Nay!” Helena rasped, her throat constricted and afire with pain. Horror made her vision swim and blur.
Colin wouldn’t look at her. “Just take her! I must get back.”
“Sir Ranulf said you were to wait here.” The man loomed threateningly over Colin.
“He did not tell me so.” Colin’s eyes flicked from man to man as his fingers flexed nervously.
“You will wait.” The man turned his back on Colin with a sneer. “Bring that one.” He nodded in Helena’s direction.
The grip around her neck vanished, but rough hands grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back. Fiery pain shot up her arms and she gasped.
The first man stepped into view before her. The cruel expression on his face curdled her blood in her veins. “Sir Ranulf will be happy to see you.” His fingers fastened in her hair and yanked her head back until her spine bowed. He towered over her. “I will hurt you, lady, if you struggle or scream.”
“What do you want of me?” Pain etched her voice as he kept the pressure on her hair.
“I want nothing from you, lady.” Spittle flew from his mouth and flecked her cheeks. Helena’s stomach heaved as she fought back her gorge.
The man holding Rosalind dragged her forward. “What should we do with this one?”
“Kill her.” At the cruel, callous retort, Helena struggled wildly.
“Jesu, Godfrey, I’m not killing no woman carrying a babe,” Rosalind’s captor whined.
The one called Godfrey cursed and released his hold on Helena’s hair. He grabbed her wrists and bound them together, his movements deft and quick, tightening her bonds until the cords dug into her flesh.
“Hold her,” he barked to the man at his back.
The whiner was as tall as Godfrey, but rangy and slim with a thin neck like a chicken. He swallowed convulsively as Godfrey closed on him.
“I said, kill her!” Godfrey roared.
