"Not I, Majesty." He reached out and clamped her arm and then allowed his hand to drift sensuously upward, then softly across her breasts. "I have been away from you for too long and my body burns for you."
Melesant closed her eyes—she had missed the feel of his hands on her body. She had often wondered why she was so infatuated by him. He was not appealing to look at—ugly really. She did not love him, and had never given her heart to any man. She had nothing to give because her body and heart were ruled by a strong ambitious mind. But she was possessive of Escobar and had warned him many times that if he ever touched another woman, he would breathe his last.
She did not object when he kicked the door closed with his foot, his hands still occupied with stroking her rounded breasts. She quaked when one hand plunged down the front of her gown, and she moaned, her breath coming out in gasps. He made her feel weak, and she wanted to strip her clothing off here and now and have him take her right here on the floor.
He pushed her gown aside and bent his head, sucking on one breast while fondling the other. She threw back her head, groaning and twisting until his wet, hot lips closed over her, draining her of all other thoughts.
He roughly lifted her gown, and undid the laces on his britches. They both knew that no one would dare enter a room when the two of them were together and the door was closed.
Backing her against a wall, he lifted her up past his waist, his eyes hard with passion. Slowly he eased her down, entering her and driving upward. He cushioned her head and plunged inside her while she groaned and clung to him.
Escobar felt a rush of triumph, knowing he could so easily control Melesant by using her passion against her. She had not realized, or perhaps did not care, that he had this power over her.
"Beautiful, beautiful," he muttered in her ear. Then his mouth clamped onto hers and he thrust his tongue in and out, keeping rhythm with his body movements.
She was mindless, she clung to him, whimpering, his movements now driving her into a frenzy.
When at last he had satisfied her needs, she lay limp against him and he guided her feet to the floor.
She stepped back, straightening her gown while he retrieved her crown and headdress and handed them to her.
Her manner was distant as she arranged her headdress and crown. "Escobar," she said, walking to the door, "when our visitors arrive, escort them to me in the throne room."
Unlike her, he could not so easily turn off his emotions. "Shall I come to you tonight?" he asked hopefully.
She gave him a disdainful smile which was meant to remind him that he was little more than her sycophant, and to demonstrate how easily she could put him from her thoughts.
Over the years he had become adept at hiding his feelings. "I shall greet your guests and bring them to you."
"Wait," she called, when he would have left. "Go at once to Lord Highclere's estate. Tell him I want him and Katharine to come at once."
"Do you think that's wise, since your son is bringing a new wife?"
Melesant's eyes narrowed and she purred, catlike. "Aye, I believe it is wise."
"Very well, Majesty," he said, turning away and leaving the room.
Melesant listened to his footsteps echoing down the corridor, and then the castle was silent. Her son loved Katharine Highclere, and she wanted to make this evening interesting, when the woman he loved met the woman Henry had forced him to marry.
With a malevolent smile, she hurried into her dressing room, where her maid was waiting. Melesant pushed the woman aside and flung open the lid of one of her trunks. Rummaging through her gowns, and tossing most of them aside, she finally found the creation she wanted.
Holding the heavily beaded black gown before her, she nodded in satisfaction. "Yes, Betty," she said to the maid, "this will do nicely."
The maid curtsied nervously. "Shall I help you dress now, Your Majesty?"
"Who else but you would perform that duty?" the queen asked in a harsh voice.
Betty had only recently been sent from the village to wait upon Queen Melesant. Everyone knew that the queen was not easily pleased and rarely kept a personal maid more than a few months.
"It is to be hoped," Melesant said, tossing the gown at the woman, "that you are better able to fill my needs than your predecessor was."
Betty's hands trembled. "I will strive to serve you, Your Majesty."
"Then, woman, bring me water, and help me bathe—I must look my best. Hurry—do it now!"
A short time later Melesant had bathed, and with the servant's help, she was trying to wriggle into the gown that she had not worn since before Cassandra was born.
"Merciful heavens!" she cried, boxing the poor maid's ears. "Have you no notion how to dress your queen?"
Betty tried not to show her pain. She dared not tell the queen that the gown had been made for a much smaller waist. "I will attempt it again, Your Majesty."
"Lace the corset tighter," Melesant commanded. "I'll wear this dress and no other."
"Yes, Majesty."
The servant pulled and tugged on the laces of the queen's gown, but they would not meet in the back no matter how hard she tried.
"Never mind," the queen said, her anger plainly showing in the harshness of her voice. "I'll wear my cape and no one will know it does not fit."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the woman said, handing her the long purple cape.
"You may go now, but in future I will not require your aid in dressing. You can report to the kitchen and see what tasks they can find to suit your ability."
Betty lowered her head, grateful to be leaving the queen's personal service. In truth she detested the Castilian woman, as did most of the islanders. "Yes, Your Majesty," she said, hurrying to the door and feeling like a bird that had been set free from its cage.
Melesant studied her reflection in dissatisfaction. It mattered not that she would not be the most beautiful woman at the banquet that night. She was the most powerful—Henry had seen to that!
19
While carts were being loaded with their belongings, Jilliana walked to a slight incline for a better view of the island.
She was glad when Ruyen joined her because she had many questions to ask him. Eleanor had taught her about the importance of farming, mills, and vineyards, yet the fields she could see were neglected, as were vineyards, where grape vines were spindly stumps dying on rotted trellises. Against the horizon, she could see a village, and she wondered at its condition.
"What do you think of Falcon Bruine, Jilliana?" Ruyen asked.
"I am quite puzzled," she told him earnestly. "It is not yet noon, yet I see no farmers working the fields. Why is that, Ruyen?"
There was fury in every nerve of his body. Trust Jilliana to point out the obvious to him. "Of that you will have to ask my mother," he said bitterly.
"Are those salt marshes?" she asked, nodding toward a wooded area where swamp-like trees dipped their branches downward.
"Yes, the water is stagnant and will not support growth. Add to that the fact that the wind blows almost ceaselessly, and it rains most every day, thus many of the plants rot in the ground. Do you notice how the trees bind to the westward side of the island?"
"Yes, I see."
"That's from the wind off the ocean, sometimes so strong it is dangerous to be at sea. Many small craft are dashed against the rocks."
"I also see beauty here," she said. There were fields of wild flowers of a deep purple hue, and dense forests and mountainous terrain in the distance.
"I am glad that you see the beauty of my home, Jilliana. The pity is that Falcon Bruine has every harsh element known to nature, and few of the good ones. Those who live here are a hardy lot, and would choose nowhere else in the world to make their home."
Jilliana shivered when she looked beyond the village to see the great towered castle that appeared to be rising out of the dark clouds that hovered above it.
By now the horses had been brought ashore and saddled. Ruyen took Jil
liana's hand. "I believe we should leave now. Already the wind is starting to blow."
He helped her down the steep incline and then grasped her around the waist and placed her on her horse. When he avoided her eyes, she could tell that there was much on his mind that was troubling him. She suspected it was his mother, but it was none of her affair. If what Netta had said was true, and she was with child, she would soon leave this harsh island that seemed as black and unapproachable as its prince.
Humphrey came up beside Jilliana and she could see the worried frown on his face.
"It would seem that Princess Cassandra is frightened about something," Humphrey told her. "Do you know what is troubling her?"
Jilliana glanced over her shoulder to see Ruyen's sister huddled near the boat. "I do not know, Humphrey, but there is much here I do not understand. Help Princess Cassandra mount her horse, and I shall keep her beside me.
Soon they rode away from the coast and up the winding road that would take them through the village and ultimately to the castle.
"Cassandra," Jilliana said, trying to sound cheerful, "your island is most wondrous, and like nowhere I have ever seen. Are you not pleased to be home?"
Cassandra looked at her with sad eyes. "I wish we had never come back. I... "
Her voice trailed off as if she'd said too much and Jilliana did not press her further.
When they reached the village, Jilliana saw that the roads were heavily rutted and empty of people. The village looked inhospitable with the doors and shutters closed. Rather than ride through as Jilliana expected, Ruyen halted in the center of town and the rest of the party waited behind him—for what she was not quite sure.
Slowly, people began to emerge from their houses, the eyes of the women mistrustful, the men with surly twists to their lips. What saddened Jilliana was that the few children she saw had shrunken bellies, and their eyes were large with hunger. She turned to look inquiringly at Ruyen, and she could see that he was clearly distressed by the pitiable conditions.
Suddenly a woman broke away from the crowd and ran toward Ruyen. Her actions startled his mount, causing it to rear on its hind legs. It took a moment for Ruyen to bring the animal back under his control.
He glanced down at the woman, and recognized her as Cassandra's old wet nurse. "What has happened in my absence, Lorna?" he asked angrily.
The woman looked quickly about her as if she were frightened. "Tis the Castilians, Your Highness. Everyone is afraid of them."
His brows met in a scowl. "What Castilians?"
Lorna spat in the dust. "The ones your mother replaced your loyal knights with. They outnumber us and take pleasure in terrorizing us, and there is nothing we can do but hide. Thanks be to God that you have returned!" She nodded at the Talshamarians. "You have not enough men to fight them."
Other villagers came forward, gathering about Ruyen.
"If you will lead us, Highness, we'll band together to drive the Castilians into the sea," a young man said, his eyes burning fiercely.
"Help us, noble prince," a woman cried out in despair.
Jilliana felt tears sting her eyes as she witnessed Ruyen's shame because he could offer his people no hope.
There was grumbling among the men, and Ruyen held up his hand for silence. "Have no fear. I will not desert you, nor am I blind to your plight, but you must allow me time to find out what has happened."
"Take the crown!" a woman cried. "It rightly belongs to you, Prince Ruyen. We would sooner see you king, than your mother regent."
Jilliana was finding herself the object of curious stares. One older woman with gnarled hands came up to her and touched her gown reverently.
"I n'er touched anything so soft—be this silk?"
"Yes, Madame, 'tis silk," Jilliana answered.
The old woman stared up at the lovely face and the crown atop Jilliana's head, and it seemed as if she was looking at the sun. "Who be you, pretty one?"
Cassandra spoke to the old woman. "Meg, this is Prince Ruyen's wife, Queen Jilliana of Talshamar."
Surprise and then shock registered on the old woman's face. "I heard 'bout the legend of that little girl that was to be queen, but we thought she was dead."
"Not at all," Cassandra told her. "This is indeed the queen of Talshamar."
Other women were gathering around Jilliana, pushing Meg back. Jilliana smiled at each of them and received timid smiles in return.
Old Meg elbowed her way forward again. "I'd be right pleased to see the look on Lady Katharine's face when she sees you. You're prettier than she be, that's for certain."
Jilliana raised her head and met Ruyen's eyes before he spurred his horse forward. Would she be forced to meet the woman he loved now that she had come to Falcon Bruine? She hoped not.
Humphrey whispered to Jilliana. "It might be prudent to toss coins to the villagers as we did in England. It appears they could use them."
"See that it is done, Humphrey." She removed a silken scarf from her neck and handed it to him. "And give this to the woman called Meg."
Jilliana nudged her horse in the flanks and followed Ruyen. She could hear the sounds of glee as the people gathered the coins that Humphrey tossed to them.
When they began the upward climb, Jilliana could see why the high grounds had been chosen for the site of the castle. It would be easier to defend against intruders, and every part of the island must be visible from the windows.
Jilliana had a feeling of foreboding as they reached the outer wall of the gray tower. Two men-at-arms passed them through a wooden gate and they were inside the main compound. The heavy gates closing behind them sounded to her like the knell of doom.
The compound was drab and cheerless, and there was a heavy feeling of evil in the air. Jilliana looked at the tears in Cassandra's eyes and reached for the girl's hand, squeezing it comfortingly.
"Do not worry, I will be with you."
Cassandra nodded, choking back the tears. "Did you see our people? They are starving. How could this have happened in so short a time?"
Jilliana had been wondering that herself. "I am sure your brother will see that all is made right."
Ruyen joined them, his eyes riveted on the man who had suddenly appeared on the steps in front of them. Escobar, with a stiff smile on his face and his fingers laced together, bowed, but not too low.
"Welcome home, Prince Ruyen and Princess Cassandra. Your mother awaits within."
Jilliana shivered as she looked into the man's black eyes and saw that he had no soul.
"And you must be the beauteous Queen Jilliana. Welcome, welcome," he said with an oily tongue.
Ruyen gave the man a dark look. "Did protocol die with my father, Escobar? Neither my wife nor I require a welcome from you."
Jilliana and Humphrey exchanged glances, each wondering what kind of place they had come to.
The man only smiled, his manner over-polite. "What can you mean, Your Highness?"
By now Ruyen had seen that most of the guards within the gates were indeed Castilians. "What I mean, Escobar," he said through gritted teeth, "is that you will refrain from addressing my wife unless I decide to present her to you, which I doubt that I shall."
The man seemed undaunted as he stared back at Ruyen. "Then you have not heard. I am your mother's minister. It was she who sent me to greet you in her name and welcome you and your party home."
"Minister?" Ruyen said, his tone a growl, then lowered his voice and leaned toward Escobar. "Is that what they call sycophants and bed warmers under my mother's rule?"
Jilliana gasped at Ruyen's cruel words and moved closer to Humphrey.
Escobar's eyes grew cold, but he dared not show his dislike for the royal prince—not just yet anyway. He remembered all too well the day when Prince Ruyen was a lad of eight and had burst into his mother's room to find them in an extremely compromising position.
Since that day, Prince Ruyen had not spoken a civil word to him—but that did not bother the Castilian overmuch.
"Your mother asked that you go directly to her. You will find her in the throne room."
In a move that surprised Jilliana, Ruyen came to her, lifted her to the ground and then offered his arm. "Shall we see my mother?"
She nodded and placed her hand on his arm. "What about my knights?"
Ruyen spoke to a man-at-arms, who stood at the top of the steps. "See that the knights of Talshamar are made comfortable. Place them in the west wing." He moved forward, taking Jilliana and Cassandra with him. "My lord," he said to Humphrey, "you will want to accompany us and be quartered near your queen."
As they entered the castle, Jilliana had the strongest urge to run to her horse and gallop away. She wanted to get back on board the ship and leave this place before it was too late—if it was not already.
So her fear wouldn't show, she raised her chin, stiffened her back and placed one foot in front of the other.
The inside of the castle was as cheerless as the outside. The walls were gray and damp, devoid of warmth, and no tapestries hung on the wall to keep the wind from seeping through the cracks. The mistress here had done nothing for the comfort of those who dwelled within.
When Ruyen felt her hand tremble, he gave her a warm smile. "You have faced worse. Did I not see you take on Henry Plantagenet and win?"
"If I had prevailed, as you claim, Ruyen, I would not now be where I am," she reminded him.
He did not answer, but she felt him stiffen at her words.
Down the corridor, Jilliana saw that a door was standing open, allowing the light from the room to spill across their path. She prepared herself for her first meeting with Ruyen's mother.
Lady Katharine sat with her back straight, her hands tightly clutching the arm of the chair. She was burning with anger that Ruyen had married this woman and was bringing her here.
Melesant watched Katharine's rage with expectancy. She had approved of Lady Katharine as Ruyen's wife because her father, Lord Highclere, was a wealthy landowner, and Katharine was his only child.
She neither liked nor disliked Katharine, nor had she considered her feelings when she invited her for Ruyen's homecoming.
Once Upon A Time (Historical Romance) Page 16
