Vow of Seduction

by Angela Johnson

  “You know naught, Alex,” Kat interrupted vehemently, “and you never have.” She shoved him with surprising strength and broke his hold. The back of her thighs bumped into the side altar and she gripped the polished wood in her hands to hold herself up. “But I will tell you what I know and what you should have known. I know my husband wedded me, bedded me, and then abandoned me mere hours later to go on Crusade. I know you thought only of yourself and cared not how your sudden departure would affect me. I know you are a cold, heartless bastard because long ago you gave your heart to a woman who does not deserve your love! That I never had a chance to gain even a small piece of your heart for myself!” She sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to check her tumultuous emotions. She had not intended to reveal to him the wretched pain she carried inside.

  “That may have been true then, Kat, but I have changed. And I do care for you. More than you know,” Alex implored.

  But he does not love you, the insidious thought echoed within her aching heart.

  Pain shot through her cramped fingers. Kat released her tight grip on the altar and brushed back a sliver of hair from her moist temple. “I don’t care how you feel, Alex. You betrayed me and shattered my trust in you. Don’t think you can tell me a few pretty lies so you can crawl back into my bed. The only thing I promise is to be civil to you in public.”

  Kat spun and marched away, heading for the chapel door.

  “Kat, wait. Prithee?”

  The agonized rasp tugged at her heart and drew her to a reluctant stop. Her temples pounding, she turned back, and as she did, Kat thought she saw a look akin to desperation flash in his eyes. She scoffed at the ridiculous notion. Alex cared for no one but himself.

  “I know I have hurt you terribly, Kat,” he said, his voice gruff and surprisingly sincere. “While in prison I had much time to reflect on my past transgressions and I bitterly regret abandoning you. But I have suffered, too.” As he spoke, Alex drew steadily closer. “Whether you believe it or not, I spent four agonizing years in prison dreaming about you. I vowed that one day I would return to claim you. I know I do not deserve a second chance, but I am going to do everything in my power to earn your forgiveness and win you back.”

  Kat stood as still as a stone statue, unable to move, the intensity of his blue eyes holding her spellbound. They reflected the flames of a hundred flickering candles. He hovered so close the heat of his body melted into her skin.

  Kat stiffened and drew back. With distance her good sense returned, along with her anger. How dare he presume that his wishes mattered to her! Did the fool still believe her a gullible, lovesick young girl easily persuaded by empty words?

  Her voice full of conviction, she said, “There is no power on earth that can change the way I feel about you, Alex. I despise you for what you did. You may as well be the rushes beneath my feet; I would sooner step on you as look at you.”

  Alex inhaled deeply. “I’m a patient man, Kat. That is another thing captivity taught me.” Unsmiling, his eyes filled with grim determination. “One day you will love me again. I shall not cease until you do. I vow it.”

  Chapter 2

  Standing in a shallow wooden tub, Alex poured a bucket of water over his head to rinse out his hair, which he had scrubbed with some foul-smelling soap to remove any vermin he may have picked up in prison. He raised his arms and squeezed the excess dampness from his hair, then accepted the linen towel his friend Rand handed him. He rubbed his skin till it tingled, then stepped from the tub and wrapped the damp linen around his hips.

  The wooden bench Rand sat on creaked as he leaned back against the bathing room wall. “I don’t understand. How is it you are alive? We searched—I searched for many moons to find any trace of you, any word that you were alive. We even offered a reward for information regarding your disappearance. A man finally showed us your grave. I saw your body, what I thought was you, anyway. The face was unrecognizable, but the body was dressed in your clothes and could have been your double in every other aspect.”

  Alex felt a blow to his stomach and took several deep breaths to control his rising fury at this latest evidence that his imprisonment had not been accidental, but been a well-planned scheme to get rid of him. While in prison, he had garnered some information that revealed there was a traitor in their midst, that the attack on him and his subsequent captivity was plotted by one of their own. And now he knew someone had gone to great lengths to make sure everyone thought he was dead. Rand had been his best friend since their days fostering with Rand’s grandfather, Earl Richard of Cornwall. But Alex did not want to discuss his suspicions with him until he had a chance to confide in King Edward.

  It took effort to control his anger, but he relaxed his tense shoulders and explained matter-of-factly, “I don’t remember much, really. I had wandered a short distance from camp for a bit of solitude, wanting to think without distraction. I must’ve been very preoccupied, because I did not hear my attacker approach. What I do recall is feeling pain explode in my head, and next I woke in the bowels of a Saracen fortress.” Alex began to dry his hair with another towel.

  Rand blanched and then dropped his gaze. A moment later, he looked up, eyes glimmering with guilt. “I should have been there to protect you. We made a vow to protect each other with our lives, but I failed you. Can you ever forgive me?” His voice ragged, tortured.

  Alex braced his hand on Rand’s shoulder and squeezed once. “You’re not responsible for my capture and imprisonment, Rand. Nor do I blame you. But if you need my forgiveness, you have it.”

  “But I was—”

  “Nay, Rand. My stay in prison is in the past, where it belongs. I managed to escape and now all I long for is to begin my life anew as a free man.” And see that the traitor responsible for my captivity pays with his life, Alex thought, jaw clenched tight.

  Rand nodded, his shoulders shuddering. Then his gaze cleared, and leaning forward, Rand rested his forearms on his thighs, probing, “How did you manage to finally escape?”

  Alex waved away his question and reached for the pair of hose on top of a pile of clothing next to Rand. Rand had pilfered the garments from his own wardrobe for Alex to wear until he could make other arrangements. Alex had rushed from Briand Castle to Westminster the moment he learned of Kat’s marriage and therefore had naught but the clothes on his back. Rags, really.

  His hose tied, Alex pulled on a linen sherte and an unadorned calf-length blue tunic over that. “There will be plenty of time for me to answer all your questions later, Rand. Right now, I have more important matters on my mind, and I don’t want to keep my wife waiting any longer.”

  Rand’s eyes widened, incredulous. “Your wife? Now you claim Kat your wife?” He shook his blond head pityingly. “You may bet Kat shall disagree with your claim. Indeed, you are going to have an uphill battle trying to convince her of that. After I returned from Crusade, she did not speak to me for a whole year because I kept my silence about your intentions.”

  He did not delude himself into thinking it would be easy. Indeed, frustration gnawed at him. Alex rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the painful knot at the base of his neck. With his abandonment, he had destroyed all trust between him and Kat. If he was to succeed in his endeavor, he had to prove to Kat that he could be trusted. And he could. Alex would rather tear out his own heart than hurt her again.

  But he had no idea how to begin without losing all pride in the process. He did not think she would be satisfied until he crawled to her on his hands and knees and begged her forgiveness. And even then she would just laugh in his face.

  Rand stood up and paced away, shoving his hand through his shoulder-length hair. “As you may imagine, it was quite a shock when you barged into the chapel. ’Tis still hard to grasp you were never dead, but held in a Saracen prison all this time.”

  Alex gritted his teeth, seething with jealousy. “Not nearly as shocking as returning home to learn I was considered dead and my wife about to become a bigamist, not to menti
on an adulteress.”

  Rand dropped his gaze, cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at him. When his eyes alighted on a stool, he reached for it and plunked it down before him. “Sit. I shall remove that foul-looking beard so you do not frighten the ladies.” Then he retrieved a small leather case on a table by the bathing room door.

  Alex was not fooled. Rand was hiding something. “Very well.” Alex sat and Rand draped a towel over his shoulders. “But afterward, I want to know what I said to make you as skittish as a virgin bride.”

  Rand’s eyes widened, then dropped once again to the task at hand, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. At the first scrape of the razor on his neck, Alex flinched and the blade nicked his skin. A bead of blood rolled down his neck.

  “Be still. Do you want me to slit your throat?” Though Rand’s voice was stern, his eyes were sympathetic.

  Alex relaxed and looked away, hating that he had revealed so much. Any sign of weakness and his enemy would gain the upper hand. For now the man responsible for his imprisonment was unaware Alex had evidence his attack was no random act. And he intended to keep it that way. He needed to keep a cool head and remember he was no longer at the mercy of his cutthroat captors. His slavery was a thing of the past, not his future.

  When he finished, Rand grunted in satisfaction, removed the towel, and handed him a mirror. Alex hesitated, not knowing what he would see reflected back. He had not seen his image since before his capture and who knew what imprisonment had wrought on the outer surface?

  Rand turned away, placing his shaving items in the bag. When he raised the mirror to his face, Alex blinked, startled by the stranger staring back at him. His face was leaner than he remembered, sharper, his cheekbones jutting out in stark relief. Grooves edged his unsmiling lips, which were compressed into an uncompromising, almost grim mien. The scar on his chin gave him the appearance of a man dangerous to cross. Where once his eyes had sparkled with mischief, now the blue glittered coldly with determination, and creases etched the corners.

  Alex stood and thrust the mirror at Rand, then turned and strapped on his borrowed sword and scabbard. “Now, I would hear what you are keeping from me,” he demanded. When he faced Rand again, he thought he had prepared himself for the worst, but how wrong he was.

  My wife is an adulterous whore.

  His temples throbbed, blood roared in his ears. Alex stood on the threshold of the banquet hall, searching for his wife. His initial shock had turned to icy rage. He stood rigid, afraid he would shatter into a thousand pieces, or smash someone into a thousand pieces as the horrible implication reverberated inside his head.

  To have come so far, only to learn…

  Rand’s words replayed in his head.

  “Mind you, they are simply rumors. I will never believe it of Kat. But I believe it best you be forewarned, for you will no doubt hear them yourself.”

  Alex stiffened. “Just spit it out, man.”

  Rand paced. “When you abandoned Kat so soon after the wedding, rumors spread that you spurned her because she was no chaste virgin. Your violent argument with Sir Luc at the wedding celebrations contributed greatly to this misconception. Then Sir Luc paid his respects to Kat after your declared death and the rumors were born again. He began to court her assiduously over a year ago when she arrived at court. Now, court gossip is that Sir Luc and Kat are lovers. Though neither has indicated such in word or deed.”

  Rand turned to Alex, righteous ire flaring in his gray-green gaze. “Foul lies, all. But for the life of me I do not know how the rumors started.”

  Now, violent thoughts whirled in Alex’s head. Kat was a passionate woman. Luc was a charming and handsome man. Kat had believed him dead, leaving no obstacle to keep her chaste. What were the odds Rand was wrong?

  Alex felt a sharp tightening in his chest, the pain wrenching. He was a cuckolded husband. No matter that Kat thought him dead, he still could not help feeling betrayed. While he had been rotting away in prison, dreaming of the day he would return to Kat, she had been lying in Sir Luc’s arms. His body shook with the violence of his thoughts. Kat was his and his alone.

  His gaze moved across the swirling sea of brightly colored, silk-clad lords and ladies, their smiling countenances counterpoint to his turbulent emotions. When he spotted Kat at last, his jaw clenched tight. Next to her stood his rival and once friend, Sir Luc de Joinville. The man’s very elegance and golden handsomeness irked Alex. Sir Luc leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. Kat sipped from her chalice and nodded without looking at Luc, and then Luc moved away and into the crowd. A rush of fury pumped swift and hot through his veins.

  Alex charged across the room, the crowd scrambling to get out of his way. At the commotion, Kat glanced up and their eyes locked. Her silver eyes widened, but she never wavered as he came closer and towered over her. Alex had no idea what he intended to do until he swooped her up into his arms.

  Fear flashed in her eyes, though quickly doused. Satisfaction rippled through him. She said not a word as he marched out of the dining hall, no doubt not wishing to create more of a scene. At that moment, he could care less. Leaving behind a stunned silence, he exited the chamber and headed for the privacy of the rooms reserved for the Beaumont family.

  Kat, her jaw clenched, did not struggle or speak as Alex carried her up the spiral stairs. Controlled fury emanated from his embrace, his muscles seemed hewn of granite and his glare as cold. It was not fear that kept her silent, nay, she was incensed at his brutish tactics, but the numerous servants they passed with their mouths gaping or snickering behind their hands was untenable. She would not risk her dignity further with open conflict.

  Alex carried her into her chambers. “Damn you, Alex, put me down.”

  Alex released her and she darted away. The door slammed shut; she jumped, startled. She did not understand why he was so angry. Alex had humiliated her before the court, carrying her off like prized booty.

  She massaged her aching temples and moved to the table along the right wall opposite the fireplace. The fire beckoned her, but another pleasure equal to the fire’s warmth waited on the table. Two goblets and a full flagon of wine sat on a tray. She filled one of the cups, quietly thanking her devoted servant Jenny for her thoroughness. She stared into her cup, absorbed by the pale rosy hue of the claret, then took a drink, swallowing half the contents.

  The warm yeasty liquid slid smoothly down her throat, in sharp contrast to the cold voice that reached out from the room’s shadows like icy tentacles. “Aye. I am damned indeed.”

  Kat well remembered that deep husky voice, but a new and dangerous current flowed under its pleasant surface. She shivered. Taking a deep breath for composure, she searched the darkness where Alex stood. She saw the tip of his boots first as he stepped from the shadows and into the area lit by the fire. Next, her gaze rose up his long muscular thighs, which flexed beneath his tunic. He appeared leaner through the hips and waist, broader of chest and shoulder. His whole body was superb in form and shape.

  Cynically, she wondered why his imprisonment seemed to have had no adverse effect upon his muscles. They appeared strong and healthy, not weakened from years of confinement, as one would expect. Finally, she came face to face with her sneaky, conniving, worthless husband. Shaved now, his face was leaner, carved with masculine lines honed from hardship.

  She glared back at him scornfully. “So, the prodigal husband has returned at last.”

  The bastard. He was still as handsome as the devil; more so, since the scar on his chin added a dangerous quality to the strength and character of his face, which appealed to her reckless side. But it was his gaze blazing with heat that caught her attention. It was the only indication of the anger she sensed he held tightly in check.

  Alex flushed, but his eyes hardened. “You know I had not intended such an extended visit to the Holy Land, but my captors were insistent,” he said, his voice caustic.

  Kat slammed her chalice down on the table and lau
ghed bitterly. “Do I know? I say I do not know you at all. Mayhap all this time you have been enjoying the hospitality of one of those harems I have heard so much about, slaking your lust and unwilling to return to your unwanted wife.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” he asked softly, his voice a cold caress.

  But she did not heed the warning and shrugged. “Nay. I think of you more as a treacherous bastard.”

  Alex lurched forward two steps and grabbed her arms in a fierce grip. His fingers bit into her skin. She gasped in pain, while her head jolted back with the motion. “And you, my beautiful wife, are naught but an adulterous bitch!”

  Kat jerked, all the breath squeezed from her lungs. So, Alex had heard the rumors that she and Luc were lovers. How ironic that the rumors had begun because Alex had abandoned her the day after their wedding. The nasty rumors had destroyed her reputation, leaving her open to all manner of degrading advances. Now, after keeping her resentment bottled inside for too long, his unfair accusation gave her leave to retaliate.

  “Aye, Sir Luc is my lover. I am not ashamed to admit it. He is a magnificent lover. I revel in every moment spent in his bed.”

  Alex dropped her arms as though stung. His face a mask of rage, he drew back his hand to slap her. She glared at him, daring him.

  With a roar of outrage, he picked up the stool near his feet and smashed it against the wall. The legs shattered and, reflexes quick, Kat lunged aside as a sliver of wood bounced off the wall and nearly struck her in the head.

  The ensuing silence was deafening. A spark popped in the fire, the orange glow illuminating Alex’s face. He looked appalled, drawn and disconsolate. She smiled, cold and defiant. Good. She meant to hurt him as he had hurt her. He deserved to suffer for a long time.

  Alex, meanwhile, stared blindly into the fire, ashamed at his violent outburst. “Kat, I—” When he touched her cheek, she flinched, and he dropped his hand.