Vow of Seduction

by Angela Johnson

  And her unadorned gowns of wool paled in comparison to Lydia’s elaborate and costly silk dresses. Indeed, Kat became a figure of fun until Alex’s mother took pity on her and altered several of Rose’s gowns for her. But naught could change the fact that Alex had fallen hard. Kat was devastated; not even the knowledge that Alex had been the one who kindly warned his mother of the cruel jests about her wardrobe had eased her pain. He had behaved like a lovesick fool over Lydia.

  And now, it seemed naught had changed either.

  “My, my, look yonder, there is the handsome couple speaking even as we speak of them.”

  Alex jolted to a stop when Lydia stepped in front of him.

  She smiled, her blue eyes shining up at him through her dark lashes. “Dear Alex, what a pleasure to see you. It has been much too long since we last met.” Innuendo laced her words.

  A rush of heat flooded his face. The last time he saw Lydia, he had taken her innocence at her tearful insistence. Alex hesitated, and then took her outstretched hand. A shock rippled through him as he bowed. He felt not a thing—no warmth, no tingling awareness, no aching tenderness—unlike what he felt with just one brush of his wife’s hand. Indeed, the hand he held was too pale and too delicate. He preferred the vibrant strength and gold-dusted hands of his indomitable Kat.

  Raising his gaze to Lydia in amazement, Alex saw her pleased smile then smoothed his features. “Lady Lydia, I’m glad to see you well. My condolences.”

  He released Lydia’s hand, but she gripped his fingers with a ruthless hold, surprising him. This day was full of surprises. He tugged and he was free. Alex looked to where Kat stood. She was gone. Cursing under his breath, Alex took a step to find Kat. Once more, Lydia stepped in front of him, preventing him from reaching his beloved.

  Aye, he finally realized that he loved Kat, that he had loved her for a very long time. But he had not recognized the depth of his feelings before because he had had naught to compare it to except his infatuation with Lydia. That blind, idealized love he once felt in his youth. It was as though he saw Lydia clearly now, realized that he had seen no more than the mirror image Lydia presented; his view distorted by her beauty, never once had he delved deeper below the surface to the inner woman.

  In contrast, his love for Kat was no passing fancy. It was volatile, explosive, and exhilarating. Aye, he loved her for so many reasons: for her kindnesses to a young boy cruelly taunted; for her intelligent mind, as cunning as any man’s; and for her courage and brave heart, whether she was defying those who scorned her after he had deserted her, or rushing into danger to protect him from harm without a care for her own safety.

  Aye, he loved his brave, tempestuous, foolhardy wife. And he had wasted so much precious time. He grieved for those lost years.

  Lydia smiled up at him, her celestial blue eyes vapid and empty. Odd, he had never noticed this before. Kat’s silvery depths sparked with life, every emotion revealed.

  Alex blinked.

  Lydia was speaking. “…your miraculous return. Prithee? I’m so desperate to hear all the latest court gossip. Since my husband’s death I have been so lonely and need some cheering. Unless…” Her lower lip quivered. “Unless you have other, more important matters to attend,” she beseeched him, a lone tear in her eye.

  Unable to refuse a lady, to ignore her tears, Alex nodded. Ostensibly looking for a less conspicuous spot to converse, he searched the crowd for Kat. He did not see her, but caught Rand’s eye where he leaned against the wall where Alex had left him. Relieved, he waved and steered Lady Lydia through the crowd towards Rand, even as he felt every eye in the chamber on them.

  Upon reflection, he admitted that when Lydia had entered the chamber, her beauty had dazzled him, and all the old feelings came rushing back. But the illusion of love quickly faded. The realization came too late, though. He had not concealed his thoughts and Kat had seen. He winced as he remembered the look in Kat’s eyes—one moment they had been warm and expressive, the next they chilled him with their complete absence of emotion. He had never wanted to hurt Kat and suddenly wished time would reverse so he could have those moments back.

  Alex stopped before Rand, imploring him with his eyes to rescue him. “Lady Lydia, you remember my friend, Sir Rand Montague, do you not?”

  Rand smiled and reached for her hand. Lydia withdrew her arm from Alex’s reluctantly.

  “Of course,” she said, her small smile swift and brief. “How could I forget your charming friend?”

  “Indeed, ’tis I who am charmed by your exquisite beauty and grace, as always. Your servant, madam,” he bowed deeply.

  “Do you mock me, Sir Rand?”

  Surprise crossed Rand’s face. “Upon my honor, I would never mock a lady.”

  Lydia’s eyes narrowed.

  Alex interrupted any reply. “Sir Rand, Lady Lydia was just telling me how she needs cheering. She has had no news from court since her husband’s death. I have been here little more than a sennight and I think you would be a much better choice to regale her with court gossip.”

  “But, Alex,” Lydia’s soft voice entreated.

  While at the same time Rand said, “I would be honored and delighted. I have been told I have a unique gift for telling tales.”

  Alex nearly snorted, but when Rand looped his arm through Lady Lydia’s and began to lead her away, he thought better of it.

  Rand said to Lydia as he edged them along the crowd to a nearby alcove. “Hmm…now where shall I begin? Have you heard the latest scandal about the old reprobate, Lord Stilwell? It seems the very prim and proper wife he acquired so recently was not quite what she seemed.” Rand lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Poor Lord Stilwell discovered quite by accident his wife liked…”

  Lydia thus occupied, Alex scanned the room looking for Kat, his gaze flitting through the crowd in search of her amber surcoate. But she was nowhere in sight. She must have slipped out unnoticed, he thought, cursing his foolishness. He had to find her, somehow make her understand what he had not understood himself. Indeed, he still could not explain his initial reaction upon seeing Lady Lydia; all he knew was that what he once felt for her was not love. Nay, ’twas as if he had been bewitched by Lydia, and as insubstantial as smoke, the spell she cast over him dissipated. She had no more power over him.

  And Kat was the one who broke his enchanted sleep. But was it too late to rectify his mistake? Would Kat even believe him now? He could not wait a moment longer to find out. He began making his way to the reception doors when a man with dark auburn hair blocked his escape.

  Thomas de Clare smiled and stepped forward, clasping him heartily and pounding him on the back. “By God, Alex, ’tis good to see you whole and hale.” Then he stepped back, shaking his head. “I didn’t believe it when Sir Luc told me you were alive.”

  “Aye, ’tis good to be home.” Alex was glad to see his old friend, but he was anxious to be on his way. Still, he did not wish to offend Thomas. Alex had met him soon after Thomas and his brother, Gilbert, the Earl of Gloucester, abandoned Simon de Montfort’s rebellion and returned to King Henry’s ranks. “I thought you in Ireland. What brings you back?”

  “Edward has need of my services in his dispute with the Bishop of Norwich. Once the dispute is settled, I intend to return to Thomond to finish putting down the rebellion there.”

  “So, Thomas, Sir Luc told you of my return. Did he tell you aught else?”

  Thomas crossed his arms over his chest. “If you mean did we speak of his aborted wedding, nay, we did not. ’Tis an awkward business that, I hope, has not caused any difficulty between you two.”

  Alex replied, his smile grim. “Unfortunately, it can’t be helped. I suspect Sir Luc still has aspirations towards Kat. But I shall never give her up.” He refused to think about the possibility should Kat demand an annulment at the end of their agreement. Alex had given his vow of honor to do so should he fail to convince her to remain married. And never would he break a sworn oath.

  De Clar
e nodded, then looked over Alex’s shoulder. Alex followed his gaze. Rand was speaking to an unsmiling Lady Lydia in the alcove. When Lydia looked up and saw Alex staring, her face transformed. Holding his gaze, her lips turned up in a coy, yet inviting smile.

  Where once Lydia’s smile had the power to smite him, now it seemed false or contrived. Alex turned back to de Clare, unwilling to give her the wrong impression.

  “Obviously, Lady Lydia still has aspirations towards you, too,” said Thomas.

  “I wouldn’t know what Lydia thinks, but should she, any designs she might have of a possible relationship with me are fruitless. I am married now and very content with my bride.”

  “I’m happy for you, Alex. But I have a feeling her arrival is not happenstance. I hope it shall not complicate matters.”

  How apropos, Alex thought. ‘Matters’ certainly just got more complicated. He could blame no one but himself, though. Judging he could leave now without offending de Clare, Alex made his excuses.

  “My thanks, Thomas. ’Tis good to see you again,” Alex said, bowing.

  “’Tis odd, you and Sir Luc have something in common in that regard.”

  Startled, Alex stopped mid-bow and brought his head up sharply. “To what do you refer?”

  His friend’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Why, surely you know that Sir Luc cannot abide his stepmother?”

  “Stepmother?” Now Alex was truly perplexed.

  “Aye. Lady Lydia Joinville.”

  Taken aback, Alex was sure he misheard Thomas. “Are you saying that Sir Luc’s father, Lord Joinville, was the baron Lady Lydia married?”

  “Of course. You did not know?”

  He had never wanted to know the name of the baron Lydia married and she had never offered it. At the time, to put a face to the man who would spend his nights in Lydia’s bed and give her children would have been sheer agony. All Alex had known was the baron she married had been an older man beyond his prime.

  Alex shook his head, unable to answer, his thoughts reeling. He tried to sort them out, put each one in perspective.

  “Thomas, you mentioned there was discord between Sir Luc and Lady Lydia. Do you know the reason for his animosity?”

  Thomas took his arm and pulled him aside to a quiet corner of the room. His voice low, he said, “Rumor has it that Sir Luc never approved of his father’s choice of bride. Then one night after father and son had a violent quarrel about her, the old man disowned him. Servants’ gossip is that Sir Luc blames Lady Lydia for the estrangement.”

  Alex bowed again. “I’m grateful to you for this knowledge, Thomas. But I must beg your pardon now. I have something that must needs done and cannot be delayed a moment longer.”

  “Certes. I shall not hold you up,” he said and clasped Alex on the shoulder. “Should you ever need aught, let me know.”

  Alex thanked him and made his way to the door. When the next arrival was announced, Alex slipped outside while a hundred pairs of thoroughly assessing eyes alighted on the newcomer. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad to escape the hot, crowded chamber. In contrast, the corridor was cool and dark, dark like his thoughts.

  “I’m such a dolt, am I,” he said to naught but shadows, smacking his palm on his forehead. And for much, much too long a time, he thought. But he intended to rectify his idiocy. Making his way through the corridors, he sighed again; it seemed he was forever in pursuit of his wife.

  A fool’s errand, perchance?

  He shook off the notion like a wet dog after a dip in the river. Doubts were for weak men, doubts clouded the mind and eroded confidence. Nay, he was not a man to lay down his arms and surrender without a fight.

  Chapter 14

  Taking a deep breath, Kat slid down in the tub of water and immersed her entire body. Liquid heat scorched her, soothing her tense muscles, but naught could melt the cold, pitted knot lodged in her chest.

  Cocooned in the water’s loving embrace, her knees bent up to her chest, absolute silence blanketed her ears—similar to what an unborn babe must feel inside a mother’s womb, Kat imagined. She envied that unborn entity. To be truly innocent and pure, free of pain and sadness and disillusionment.

  She stayed under until her lungs burned. Kat surged up off her back to a sitting position, gasping for air and blinking water from her eyes. Aye, water, not a tear, never a tear would she shed for her despicable husband.

  Before her a fire crackled in the hearth and she heard her servant bustling about the antechamber on the other side of the screen.

  “Jenny, hand me my soap.”

  A short pause, then Jenny replied, “’Tis on the stool beside ye, milady.”

  “Aye, of course, I knew that,” Kat muttered under her breath. All afternoon she had drifted on an invisible current, treading murky water, too afraid to delve below the surface to the inherent danger hidden beneath, just waiting to suck her under and drown her in misery.

  “What shall ye be wearing to supper, milady?”

  “I care not. Any old tunic will do.”

  Silence greeted her. Then Jenny poked her head around the screen, her red braids bright in the fire glow. “Ye do not want to look your best this eve and show up that wicked woman? I thought ye had more pride than that.”

  Kat grunted at the well-aimed volley. She lifted her leg out of the water and propped her foot on the tub’s edge. Not immediately answering, she glared at the delicate arch of her long narrow foot. She wanted to plant it up—

  “You may lay out my garnet tunic. Oh…and the garnet brooch and my jeweled rings. There, does that please you?”

  Jenny chuckled, her green eyes mischievous. “Aye, if you are pleased, I am pleased.” Then Jenny marched into the adjacent bedchamber and began rummaging through Kat’s chest.

  Kat grumbled under her breath. Although she hated Alex for humiliating her, for making her believe even for a short while that he might care for her, she would not let that witch get the better of her. She was not taking care with her dress to impress the lying bastard to whom she was shackled, for the nonce.

  Lathering her cloth, she caught a subtle whiff of her jasmine, amber, and musk-scented soap. She skimmed the cloth down her leg and then proceeded to do the same with the other one. She finished the rest of her ablutions as quickly as possible, except for her back.

  “Jenny, will you scrub my back?” she hollered.

  Heat caressed her ear as a familiar, corded bronze hand plucked the soap from her hand. “Here, allow me.”

  Kat yelped and spun around. It was a mistake, for Alex was kneeling behind her. Their lips brushed—shivery heat raced down her neck and she jerked back in surprise. Alex dropped his gaze. A carnal smile curved his lips and his eyes glittered with desire. She looked down, too, and saw that her nipples, hard as pebbles, jutted above the water lapping at her breasts.

  Kat turned around and plunged forward, pressing her chest to her knees. Water splashed over the sides. Unfortunately her back was exposed now. “How dare you intrude on my bath? You have no right. I want you out of here, now!”

  Alex chuckled without humor. “I, no more than you, heed well commands. What a grand couple we shall make. What marvelous children we shall conceive and bring forth into this world.”

  “Never,” she declared vehemently, then suddenly remembered something. “Where is Jenny?”

  “Jenny?” Alex yelled out cheekily.

  “Aye, milord?” the maid responded, her voice hesitant.

  “Be gone.”

  “Stay,” Kat countered.

  The sound of the door closing reverberated through Kat’s rib cage, like a crypt door sealing her to her doom.

  “Much better, do you not agree?” Alex purred in her ear.

  Nay, I cannot breathe.

  Alex swirled the soapy cloth in slow, drugging circles down her back. Fire erupted over her flesh wherever his fingers teased.

  Kat stiffened against the onslaught. “Nay, I do not. You have some gall. You humiliated me before the court
with your disgusting display over that trollop. Do you really expect me to welcome you as though naught has changed?”

  Alex’s hand paused. “Nay, but I needs must explain what you saw when Lady Lydia was announced.”

  Kat stared into the flames. “There is naught to explain. I saw all. You are still in love with her. And I, along with everyone at court, know it!”

  Alex leaned forward, his voice insistent. “Kat, I know how it must have looked, but ’tis not what you think. You mistook what you saw.”

  Kat turned around and swatted his hands away. “This is your defense? Do I understand you aright? What you are saying is that I cannot see with mine own eyes. Cannot see when my husband makes a fool of himself…and me.” Kat’s voice broke. She spun back around, wrapped her arms around her knees and glared into the fire. “I am but a woman, obviously deluded,” she said coldly.

  “Nay, ’tis not what I meant. Aye, you saw aright my reaction upon seeing Lady Lydia, but ’tis not how I truly feel about her.”

  “You are unbelievable, Alex. You do not deny you looked upon Lydia as though besotted. Yet you claim you do not feel such for her. And you expect me to believe you? Nay, sir, ’tis you who are deluded.”

  “I know it sounds implausible, I barely understand it myself. But when Lydia walked into the room, all the old emotions I felt for her came rushing back, then—”

  “Silence,” Kat cried out, clutching the tub’s edge in a death grip. “I don’t want to hear this. Get out! Out!” Her voice rose on a screech.

  “Nay,” he said, clamping his hands down upon her shoulders as though forcing his will into hers. Then he clutched her chin and turned her face to him, a fanatical gleam in his eyes. “I shall not leave until I have had my say. Until I make you understand—”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly. But I refuse to listen to more of your lies and false words. I shall never trust you. The bargain is off. Lady Lydia is welcome to you.”