Vow of Seduction

by Angela Johnson

  The round chamber was small and sparse; nevertheless, the four-poster bed was luxuriously appointed with furs, red velvet coverlet and bed curtains. The bed lay opposite two narrow shuttered windows that overlooked the river.

  Moving to the bed, he knelt on it as he laid her down. His face extremely close to hers, she turned her head and brushed her lips against his mouth deliberately. Alex jerked back and her head and shoulders flopped down on the bed. He stared down at her in consternation.

  Lydia blushed and made her eyes widen in innocent appeal. “Oh my, I did not mean…I am so embarrassed. You must think me terribly forward.”

  He looked around awkwardly. “Nay, I would never think such of you. ’Twas an accident. Think no more of it.”

  Lydia lowered her lids and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “But what if I cannot?”

  Alex’s eyebrows raised in puzzlement. “Cannot what?”

  “Stop thinking of your kiss. I can’t stop thinking of you, Alex. How wonderful it felt to be held in your arms the night we made love. And to have your lips on mine once again.”

  “But ’twas an accident, surely you understand I did not kiss you apurpose?”

  “Did you not?” She flashed an enticing smile.

  He looked offended. “Nay. I am married now and would not betray my wife.”

  She sat up, and bracing her hands behind her on the bed, thrust her chest out. “And what about me?” she said softly. “Have you forgotten your vow to me? That day I gave you my innocence? You promised to love me forever.” She smiled again. “Now that I am free, we can be together at last.”

  She took his hand and tugged him. Unresisting, he sat down on the bed beside her.

  “Lydia. I don’t know what to say.”

  Pleased at his acquiescence, making her voice tremble, she said, “Tell me you feel the same. Tell me you still love me as much as I love you!”

  Alex dropped his gaze and stared down at their joined hands on the bed. Lydia waited, her nerves strung taut in unbearable suspense. Would the man not just say it? How dare he make her stew and wait like a groveling supplicant?

  But when he finally looked up, his eyes were not warm and burning with desire, they were grave and apologetic. He removed his hand from under hers. A vein began to throb dully behind her eyes even before he spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Lydia. It grieves me to say this, but I do not love you. The time we had together was wonderful. But when I made that vow, I had no idea the path my life would take. We were so young, then, and many years have passed. We are different people now, and naught can change that I am married to Kat.”

  The dull throb became an annoying ache. “Nay. I do not believe you. You are denying our love because of her. She put you up to this. What kind of threat does she hold over you that you would break your vow to me?”

  A small tear leaked from her eye and she wiped it away angrily. She never cried. Alex stood up and paced around the small confines to the shuttered windows. Then he swung back to her and stood at the foot of the bed.

  His dark blue gaze steady, he took a deep breath. “You believe Kat has some sort of hold over me. And you are right.” Not waiting for him to finish, Lydia rose off the bed and took several quick steps towards him with her arms outstretched.

  He held up his hand to stop her. “You were right about Kat,” he continued, his gaze full of pity. “But the only hold she has over me is the love in my heart. I’m sorry, Lydia. I say these things not to be unkind, but so you know that there can never be aught between you and me. In time, I beg you will forgive me for hurting you.”

  Lydia stood stunned, flabbergasted. Then the rage surged so fast and furious, she felt as though someone stabbed a dagger into her eye. Pain exploded and Lydia cried out. Closing her eyes, all the blood in her head surged to one spot and pounded through a single vessel behind her right eye. Alex caught her as she fell.

  “Jesu. Lydia, what is wrong?” Alex said, his voice a distant buzz.

  But Lydia remained silent, trying to endure the excruciating pain. The phenomenon was well known to her, but only a few times in her life had it come on so quickly and to such a degree. And she remembered them both very clearly. Her headaches had occurred during times of great distress and disappointment throughout her life. But the first time she felt one this bad was the summer she turned ten and two.

  The day she lost her virginity, her innocence, her youth to her beloved Papa.

  Lydia heard voices above her, Alex’s and a high-pitched male voice, and then she was floating. The mattress enveloped her when Alex laid her on it. But her mind drifted back to the past as the physician examined her.

  That had been the worst betrayal of all. She and her handsome father had been extremely close. When her mother died, Lydia and her father were devastated, their shared grief a bond that drew them even closer. It helped that Lydia was a tiny replica of her beauteous mother. Her father showered Lydia with affection and she adored him so much he could do no wrong in her eyes.

  Then the changes came upon her; her hips widened, her breasts enlarged considerably and much sooner than other girls her age. That was when her father’s embraces changed, became intimate and covert. His hand would caress her face too long, or accidentally brush against her breasts. Then when she did not resist, he grew bolder and cornered her in darkened passageways to caress her breasts and nipples, rubbing them until they tingled. His touches became increasingly more intimate, touching her between her legs, kissing her on the lips.

  At first it felt good when he touched her; this was her handsome, adoring father, and surely what he did to her could not be wrong? But deep inside, she knew the truth and the shame mounted after each encounter. Still, he loved her, he called her his precious little girl, said she was a good girl for letting her Papa touch her. After nearly a year of this, one night he came to her bedchamber.

  A noise woke her and she was afraid. Then she saw him and her terror began in earnest. He stared down at her unsteadily. Then he groped for the bed and tripped, landing beside her on the bed. He was naked. She recoiled at the large ugly snake extended straight out below his belly, but he was too strong. He grabbed her, crawled on top of her, and poked that thing inside her, ripping her apart. She screamed, begged him to stop, but he hushed her. He slurred his words, promising to hurry and calling her Lyla, his beloved. When it was over, he rolled off her and fell asleep like an exhausted puppy.

  For the next two years the routine varied little. He came to her chamber smelling of stale ale, proceeded to rape her, called out his dead wife’s name, and then promptly fell asleep beside her. Until she began taking lovers of her own. One night he came to her bed and found her fornicating with a strapping, handsome villein. ’Twas the first time he ever looked at her with shame.

  She had been extremely hurt by it, but at the same time she had wanted to kill him for making her the way she was. But from that day forward she held all the control. She manipulated men to her advantage using carnal favors to get what she wanted. And none had ever denied her, except…

  You have betrayed me for the last time, Alex, Lydia vowed. If I cannot have you, I guarantee that she-witch never will. I shall destroy your marriage and deny you that which you desire most. And unlike you, I do not break my vows.

  Alex paced on the landing outside Lydia’s chamber, waiting for news from the king’s physician. It was silent in the darkened stairwell except for his footfalls. He thought back on that moment when she had cried out in pain and collapsed. He had knelt on the floor with her in his arms and brushed back her hair to stare aghast at her paler-than-death complexion. He called her name over and over, but she did not respond. Then the physician entered the room, his expression appalled and scandalized. But Alex had quickly explained what happened and left her to the man’s examination.

  It was his fault. Alex did not mean to hurt her, but there was naught he could do to blunt the pain. He could not give her false hope and, therefore, had decided to be comple
tely honest about his feelings.

  Alex’s eyes widened and he stopped pacing abruptly. In all the emotional turmoil, it just dawned on him that Lydia walked on her injured leg without any difficulty. How could that be, unless…?

  Alex dropped his head into his hands and groaned aloud. Lydia had faked her injury. She had manipulated the situation to get him alone. He could see things all too clearly now. And it made him wonder how many other times, in his youthful blindness, had she duped him?

  Looking back, he remembered how besotted he had been with Lydia’s beauty and sweetness from the moment they met. The attraction mutual, over the course of the summer they snuck away many times to kiss and fondle one another, though they never committed the ultimate act of love. Lydia was already betrothed to another and Alex was intended for Kat. Lydia wanted them to elope, but in the end she understood that he could not dishonor his family or Kat by breaking his informal betrothal.

  Then the night before Lydia left court to go to her groom’s home and marry, she came to his bed. She wanted Alex to make love to her, claimed she loved him and wanted him to be the one to whom she gifted her virginity. She was so sweet and shyly embarrassed by her request, he could not deny her. Besides, he was young and virile and wanted her desperately.

  Now he hardly recognized himself in that naïve, idealistic youth. Afterward, Lydia had tearfully drawn from him an oath to love her forever. He remembered now he had been reluctant to make such a promise. He knew it would not change the fact that their love could never be. But at the time he truly believed Lydia was the only woman he would ever love, and he could deny her naught when she cried.

  Of course, he now regretted making that vow. It allowed Lydia to cling to hope they would reunite one day and start anew as though the intervening years never occurred. But people changed, matured, grew wiser. His own experiences melded him into a stronger individual. So he could look back and see how, blinded by what he thought was love, he let Lydia influence him against his better judgment.

  Lydia’s chamber opened and the doctor stepped out, wiping his hands on a cloth. He was tall, gaunt, and stoop-shouldered, but his eyes were dark and penetrating.

  Alex frowned with worry. “Will Lady Lydia be all right?”

  The man’s lips dipped down in consternation. “And who are you to the young lady?”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “A friend, concerned for her wellbeing.”

  The man nodded. “Well, then. You shall be glad to hear the lady has suffered no permanent damage. Her knee is sore and tender to the touch, but there is no swelling or bruising. And I have given her a potion for her headache. If she stays off her leg for a full day as I directed, by tomorrow she should be feeling better.”

  It was just as Alex suspected. The evidence from his own observation, along with the lack of any bruising or swelling proved Lydia had faked her knee injury. Although he would never know to what extremes she manipulated him in the past, her pain at his rejection had not been contrived. She truly cared for him and he regretted hurting her.

  But a shield had been removed from his eyes and his heart was leading him in a different direction. ’Twas fated the day he escaped. When God gave him a second chance to seize his true destiny. Kat.

  Alex found Kat, or rather heard her when he entered the queen’s solar later that afternoon. Her full-throated laughter rang out over the chatter of the room’s occupants, drawing him to a back corner of the room. Alex smiled at her exuberance. Not shy was she, he thought. She exuded confidence. Kat appeared in a gap between several people who stood near her.

  She wore a buttery yellow surcoate over a green tunic, and sat on a carved wooden bench, a chessboard before her. Her long black hair hung down her back and was held back by a gold circlet and white veil. A big grin on her face, she picked up her black knight and cried ‘check’ as she moved it into position. Alex could not see her partner, but masculine laughter rang out in response. The grating sound revealed the source. He jabbed his sword hilt against his side to keep from shoving people out of his way to reach Kat and beating Sir Luc senseless.

  Then Alex saw him. The man’s golden curls were perfectly groomed and brushed his broad shoulders. Sir Luc smiled at Kat in mock chagrin. “I do not know how you convinced me to play chess with you. I have never beaten you. Not once.”

  Kat smiled, her glance warm. “Don’t feel so bad, Luc. ’Tis a rare man who can beat me at chess.”

  Alex bristled at the easy familiarity between them and rudely interrupted. “You were speaking of me, my love?”

  Startled, Kat looked up. Her thick, elegantly arched brows dipped in disdain above her gray glare. “Pardon?”

  “You said ’tis a rare man who can beat you. I agree and charge that I am your man to beat you…at chess. Care to wager on it?”

  “Nay. Luc and I have not finished playing.” She looked down at the chess pieces as though contemplating her next move.

  Alex bent down and placed his hand on her right shoulder, then with his left hand he moved her knight to checkmate Luc’s king. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “Your game is over.”

  Kat jerked away and pressed her back against the wall. “Aye, I agree. I am through playing games. You will pardon me if—”

  Alex smiled, but his patience had elapsed. He would not argue with Kat in front of Sir Luc. Knowing she would be unwilling to cause a scene, he hooked his arm through hers and tugged her up from the bench. Sir Luc, straddling the opposite bench, rose up as though he intended to intervene.

  Alex warned him with a fierce look. “Sir Luc, pardon us. I wish to speak with my wife. Alone.”

  After a short pause, his expression bleak, the knight bowed and returned to his seat.

  Naught was private at court. Alex was aware all along of the interest of those near enough to hear their exchange. For that reason, he smiled and nodded at acquaintances as he led Kat sedately through the chamber and out the door past the guards. The moment they were alone in the corridor, her pleasant expression disappeared and she jerked her arm free.

  Crossing her arms, she glared at him. The sconce’s flames flickered over her high cheekbones and long, slender nose. And her gray eyes glowed silver. “I am going nowhere with you, Alex. State your business and be gone. I intend to return to the chamber anon.”

  “What I wish to discuss is not for public consumption.”

  “Well, I don’t care what you want. I’m going back inside.” She turned and reached for the latch, but Alex grabbed her arm and spun her around.

  He held her pressed to his body and lowered his voice. “We have a bargain, you and I. Until that time elapses, you are bound to spend time in my company, at the time of my choosing, as long as it does not conflict with your duties to the queen. Now are you going to come with me willingly? Or must I resort to force?”

  It was too much. The hurt rage Kat bottled up since Alex rode off with Lydia that afternoon exploded with frightening force. One instant Kat was held immobile against his powerful body, the next she drew her dagger from her boot and pressed the lethal blade against his belly.

  Alex tensed and his blue eyes darkened the color of midnight. “What do you think you are doing?” he growled beneath his breath.

  She pressed the dagger closer. “Release me. Now.”

  Alex swore low and long. “Have you lost your wits? What do you intend to do with that thing? Are you prepared to use it?”

  Kat dug the blade into his tender flesh. “Aye. Care to test me?”

  He did not respond, just glared down at her impotently.

  “Now release my arm and back up, slowly.” When he did, she said, “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  Alex obeyed, though with a fierce scowl. “What are you going to do? Someone can come upon us at any moment.”

  “Since you are so fond of using your superior strength to get your way, I believe ’tis time you see how it feels to be powerless and at the mercy of another.

  “Now, w
alk. No sudden moves, mind you.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Kat kept a safe distance behind him, prepared should he decide to attack. “Oh, I merely wish to give you some time to contemplate the error of your ways. Mayhap next time you shall consider the consequences of your bullying.”

  She stared at the back of his head—the light from the hall sconces struck his black hair with blue sparks, enthralling her.

  “Aye, consequences. Just be prepared. You shall have a few of your own to contend with after the doing of this deed. I shall see to it.” His voice vibrated with lethal promise.

  Kat shivered involuntarily. “Turn right, here. Slowly!” They turned down a narrow passageway rarely used by guests. At the end was a cupboard for the personal linens of the king and queen. As lady-in-waiting, Kat carried one of the keys to the small room on her girdle. Lady Lynette, who had the other key, would get quite a surprise when she opened it to retrieve sheets to make the royal beds later that evening.

  “Stop. There is a door on the right.” Kat pressed the dagger against his back. “Stick your face against the wall beside it.” Kat retrieved her key with her left hand, unlocked the door and shoved it open. She backed up and ordered him inside.

  But quicker than she could blink, he spun around and grabbed her wrist in a hard grip. Fire shot through her wrist bone. She screamed and dropped the dagger. Spinning her so her back was to his chest, Alex covered her mouth with his other hand and dragged her into the cupboard.

  She kicked and flailed about, her fist hit him in the head, and her foot connected with a knee. Alex cursed. He tried to imprison her arms, but desperation lent her powerful motivation; she wiggled about like an eel and slipped his net again and again. The momentum of her struggles slammed him into the shelves stocked with linens, which scattered to pile upon the floor.

  “Damn it, you little spitfire. Cease fighting me and I will release you.” Kat did not trust him and continued her struggles.

  In answer, Alex shoved her down on the pile of linens, muffling her curses. Then he collapsed on top of her, a hot ridge of flesh prodding her hip. She lay there stunned and disbelieving, unable to move. How had he so handily turned the tables on her? So close to achieving her goal, she had not counted on becoming ensnared in her own trap.