Angie Arms - Flames series 04

by The Strongest Flames

  “I have had time to consider the situation,” Richard said, his finger motioning Warner to lean closer, over the back of the King’s chair, where he stood behind it at the King’s right shoulder. He hoped his position would send a message to all those who saw.

  “Garrick is growing unpredictable. It would not do for him to grow a conscience now. Get rid of him.”

  “It would be my extreme pleasure. First, I beg of you to allow me to see the performance through to the end,” Warner replied humbly.

  “Do you find it particularly intriguing?” the King asked, with a glance at Warner, who still leaned over him. Warner’s attention had left the King and was now riveted to the woman who danced just in front of them.

  The King looked in the direction Warner’s eyes were cast. “Or perhaps it’s one certain wench who has your interest. Very well. For your service you can make use of my home another night, and I will have her sent to you.”

  “That is most gracious Your Majesty,” Warner said, but he found he could not take his eyes from her. She danced so closely, and each time she spun she would pause, and look upon the dais. Perhaps she was a woman hopeful for some handsome coin before the night was out. Her eyes were hazel, seeming to change color in the flickering light, enhanced by the darkness of the loose tendrils framing her face.

  The evil powers, the black capes, surrounded the good powers. The girl spun in a frenzy, the cape billowing around her, flying out, giving her the look of some kind of enchanted bat. Suddenly the good powers raised their arms, their capes billowing, and the evil powers dropped to their knees. All the evil powers faced outside the circle, facing the crowd that surrounded them. Their head’s lowered, their capes wrapped tightly around themselves, as they crouched beneath the spinning white capes. It was quite the touch, but Warner’s eyes were riveted to the woman. She raised her head, seeing it at just the right angle, he saw the freckles beneath the mask. The eyes and the freckles intrigued him, with her height, she was a childlike nymph

  She lowered her head again, and he knew in that instant he would have fun with her. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of woman would perform with the men. He saw the troupe arrive earlier, though there were women among them, he did not expect to see one perform. Such a role for a woman was disgraceful, yet here she was, and despite everyone’s opinion of her in the morning, she appeared to have many eating out of the palm of her hand tonight.

  The good powers came down, enveloping the evil ones in their billowy white capes. Out of the center of the good powers came a man depicting the King. He walked forward, toward the King, and suddenly the white caped man, who was concealing the woman, sprang back, and she stood turning, the black cape swirling about her, as she faced off with the fake Richard. He advanced on her, and she stalked toward him, around him. Her cape billowing around her. She came to stand in front of him. Suddenly the acting King picked her up and slammed her down on the table in front of the real one. The actor then pulled his wooden sword, and drove it into the evil power, between her arm and side, so she held it up as if it protruded from her chest. She pretended to try to pull it from her, but finally gave up the effort, and died. She flung her arms out, turning her head toward Warner and the King. She lay there a moment, before opening them again, and winked at the King. In return Richard threw back his head and laughed.

  The play ended and Richard clapped heartily, turning to give Warner a wink as the woman sat up on the table. She rolled toward the King’s side, avoiding the food that still lay about.

  Richard’s hand came out to settle on her arm, stopping her escape. Her eyes immediately fell to the floor. “This is Warner. You are to do what he says tonight.” Scared blue eyes locked with his, while the King laid a handful of coins in her palm. She looked from Warner to her hand, and stared at the coins there for several moments. Warner saw her jaw clinching and unclenching, her neck working as she swallowed nervously. When she raised her eyes again, he saw tears pooled there. Some men would feel sympathy for the girl’s plight, but not him. He wanted to see them flowing freely from her innocent blue eyes, and he hardened at the thought.

  “The only thing is I like this girl’s performance, I would hate for you to hurt her overly much,” the King said to Warner.

  Warner caught the King’s meaning, and felt disappointment flow through him. He would have to come up with a different plan to fulfill his needs on this night. “Come along then,” Warner said, taking her roughly by the elbow and pulling her along behind him. At one point she dug in her heels and Warner turned swiftly, releasing her elbow.

  “If you do not want a share of the King’s wealth, give it to me and I will be sure to tell him.” Her eyes refused to rise from the floor. He reached a hand out and grabbed her by the chin, his fingers digging into her skin, as he forced her to look at him. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. You heard the King, I can’t hurt you overly much.”

  She nodded the best she could with him holding her chin. “Good girl.” He released her chin, and ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek. She closed her eyes, but did not flinch. “We’ll work out that bashfulness,” Warner said, before turning away. “Come along. The night is far too short.”

  When he reached his chamber the girl was not far behind. He stood to the side, and let her walk through the door first. Once over the threshold, he closed the door, and lowered the bar that would keep any intruders out, or keep a frightened young woman from fleeing.

  “Remove your clothes,” he ordered, as he went to build up the fire in the hearth.

  Once the fire was blazing Warner straightened and turned to see the woman still stood where she was, visibly shaking. Slowly Warner moved to her and stood over her.

  “Give me the coins.”

  Her eyes rose to his again, and she gave a half shake of her head.

  “Are you a virgin?”

  She looked so frightened, her eyes fell back to the floor, and finally she nodded, her entire body was trembling.

  “What is your name?”

  “Grace.”

  “All right Grace. I will forgive you your rude behavior since you obviously do not know how this works. The King has given you a large sum of money in exchange for your body tonight. When a woman is purchased, she does not hesitate to do what the man who now owns her says. Do you understand me?”

  He saw Grace open her hand and look at the coins there, before raising her eyes to him and nodding. “Put your coins on that table right there, then come back over here and take your clothes off.”

  She slowly went to the table and back, her feet sluggish, but finally getting his order accomplished. He stood with his arms crossed, as she reluctantly removed her clothes. Once finished, she tried to cross her arms over her breasts. “Let down your hair.”

  She did so, and again tried to cover herself. “Arms at your sides. Good girl,” he said, when she complied. His voice held a tone as if he was gentle and coaxing, but instead his voice made fear work its way into her mind.

  Warner studied the girl for a moment. She couldn’t really be called a girl, her body was rounded into that of a woman, with firm breasts and a stomach and thighs that showed him how much this woman danced.

  “I want to watch you dance.”

  She only stared at him.

  “Do you dance in any other performances?”

  She nodded tentatively.

  “Good, let’s see one of those.”

  After a few moments hesitation, the girl began to move. The beginning of the performance was awkward, as she kept casting worried glances his way. Warner remained rooted to the floor. Even the awkward movements were fascinating as he watched her undulating, spinning, and floating. As she loosened up and the movements came more naturally, he saw in her the true beauty of woman. He never saw the fairer sex in such a light. Always, they were his outlet for all his dark thoughts to be expended on. But this ethereal beauty was a true specimen of human superiority. He knew before she finished he would
not be touching her. She was far superior to him, to anyone. As soon as her body came to a stop, Warner knew he had to leave, immediately, and find someone to relieve his bloodlust upon.

  “Remain here,” he said, as he moved quickly to the door. He spared enough time to take the coins lying on the table top, knowing if he did not, she would be far away by the time he returned. He found her in the decrepit little shacks many called home. Warner learned long ago this was the place desperate people lived. Most of the women would do anything for a little coin. In the end it seemed like a waste, because this woman paled in comparison to the one waiting on him in his room. It wouldn’t take long after the sun lit the sky before someone would find her body, but he doubted anyone would care. By the time he crossed the threshold into his sanctuary, the sky was beginning to lighten, and he was afraid she left without the money, but she was there, waiting for him. Grace, how fitting the name was.

  “I leave this morning. Come with me,” he said, as he closed the door behind himself. He was disappointed to find she was dressed again.

  “Why would you want me to come with you?”

  “I don’t know,” Warner replied honestly. “I’m intrigued by your body when you dance. I need you,” he hurriedly explained, when she moved wearily toward the door, giving him a wide berth.

  The woman scoffed, “You don’t need me. Just a couple hours ago you did not know I existed.”

  “But I do now. Come with me.”

  “No,” she said, stopping more than arm’s length from him, as he stood close enough to the door to keep her from bolting for it.

  Finally, she looked up at him, and he saw intelligence in her hazel eyes. “This night I was under the king’s protection. Who will protect me when I am with you?”

  He moved toward her and she stood her ground. “I can protect you better than even the King.” He saw by the look on her face she was not a believer. “Do you know what I do for the King?”

  “Stand at his shoulder and wipe the soup from his mouth?”

  He wanted to strike her for that, he really did, but contained himself. “I kill those he wants killed.”

  She studied him a moment, her breasts heaving as she breathed, he watched her nostrils flare.

  “I could kill you,” he whispered, moving closer to her, making her stiffen. “If you do not choose to go with me.”

  “What of the King?” He could hear the tremble in her voice.

  “I do not fear the King,” he stated.

  “But the King does not wish me dead,” she argued.

  “He will be delighted that you are under my protection. When we see him again, we will show him what a true treasure we have found. Soon I will be a legend,” Warner stated, standing straight and looking down on her. “The King wants the Fenton Bastard dead. We can be legends together, if you come with me.

  “What did the Bastard do to him?”

  “He didn’t kill Damien LeForte like he was supposed to. Now I get to finish what he started. I will give you a comfortable life, wealth you could never have dreamed of.”

  “Why would a man as powerful as the King wish Damien dead?”

  Warner shrugged, but he realized the woman truly wanted an answer. She was very different than any woman he ever knew. She had a keen mind and a sharp wit, coupled with her lithe body, he knew he would do anything to keep her with him. “He refused to fight for the King.”

  “Is this the same LeForte the legends speak of?”

  “I know of no legends,” he replied annoyed. What did it matter what LeForte it is.

  “The LeForte of the legends is undefeatable. He fought in the Crusades alongside his brother. They returned favorites of the King, and were entrusted to bring the rebels back in line. No one dares betray the crown, because it is said he will destroy everything, because he lets no one weaken the King’s position.”

  Warner scoffed and he watched her scowl. “You should not believe in legends and fairy tales. This LeForte did fight in the Crusades with his brother, but that is where the similarity to the legend ends. He was a coward and sacrificed his brother to be burned beyond recognition. Though they both still live, they have turned into animals, with no respect for higher powers. The brother is of no consequence, he is too weak to lift a battle ax, or even mount a horse. He even wears a hood to hide behind. But the King wishes the oldest dead, to bring all of his men back into line.”

  “Sounds as if LeForte is a threat to the crown.”

  “LeForte is a mere inconvenience.” Warner turned and paced away, his movements fluid. “My real prize is the Bastard,” he said, turning back to her.

  Grace studied him, for some reason, Warner felt uncomfortable under her gaze. “I am a wealthy man. I can give you so much more than that handful of coins.”

  “I do not wish to be a whore.”

  “I will not make you a whore. If you will but dance for me as you did last night, I can find other ways to expend my lust.”

  “How does a man such as you expend your lust?”

  Warner walked slowly to Grace so he looked down on her. He was pleased she did not back away, telling him she had more courage than he would have originally thought. He leaned down so his lips were close to her ear. “I might show you one day.” He felt her shiver.

  When he straightened she met his gaze. “What will keep me safe with you?”

  “Your perfection.”

  Grace relented and agreed to accompany him. She left to tell her friends with the troupe, farewell. He followed, and found the reason behind her need for money. The oldest member, and leader, was ill and the troupe needed a roof over his head to help him heal. The coin helped, but Warner, despite not understanding her need to be kind to the man, gave them enough to live on comfortably for more than a year. It was his way of purchasing Grace, for what purpose he was not sure. Perhaps just to perform. Knowing others might be as enthralled by her as he was, was an exciting feeling. It connected the innocent to his own lusts, and made him want to sneer at them, while they watched and lusted after her.

  Chapter 9

  Helthpool

  Emma lay beneath the rock overhang, her heart pounding with her fear, but she forced her breathing to steady, so she could listen to the man standing overtop, on the ledge above her. She clutched a dagger protectively against her chest, and had the insane urge to giggle. She didn’t know why this man was still hunting her. She knew his companion left days ago, yet the blue-eyed-man remained, and now lived at Helthpool alone, with only the tortured souls to pass the time with. Perhaps he grew insane amongst the dead, and he did not truly know what he did.

  He found them in their camp. The man was growing adept at finding them, and got closer each day to catching them. There were not many secretive places left they could hide. Her father and uncle told a number of stories about being hunted, and eluding their pursuers, but her father admitted they never were hunted by a man as adept at his job as The-blue-eyed-man. She remembered his eyes vividly. Never did she see eyes so sad, so lost, as that man’s. Perhaps it was living at Helthpool.

  She heard the man shuffling around over her head, and again she suppressed her urge to giggle. There was something about this man, and seeing his frustration that amused her. There were two instances where he thought she got away, but she was near enough to see his anger, and the small tantrum which reminded her of a child. She knew she was playing with danger. The fact her father and uncle were weary of the man, should be enough to make her want to stay far away from him. But she could not, and she wondered if there was a chance she wanted to be caught. What would life be like not hiding in the woods? Could there ever be a life for her anywhere but here?

  The man grumbled, his voice deep, and she imagined his face, his well defined jaw working in his agitation, his low brows drawn together over his magnificent eyes. She pressed her face against the rock she lay on, to suppress the giggle.

  Perhaps, this was one of those instances where she went too far. She hid herself in the brush
next to the camp, as he rode after those who fled, and quickly disappeared in the woods. Never did they set up camp in a place where there was not thick trees and underbrush that would conceal their escape. They survived for generations as rebels against the crown, they were not foolish. But perhaps she was. She saw his attention on those fleeing, so she hid herself. Emma watched him when he returned, kicking their abandoned supplies around. Perhaps that was the most devastating of all, not that they would have to set up a camp somewhere else, but they would have to try to replace the supplies at a time when most people starved.

  In a final bout of frustration, he pulled his dagger from his belt, and slung it to embed in the tree near where Emma hid. When he threw his head back to roar his anger at the blue sky, she jumped at the opportunity to steal that dagger. So she had. She was already fleeing deeper into the woods when he caught sight of her, and began to give chase. She was never concerned he would catch her. She was as nimble as a rabbit in the woods, and knew the rock overhang well. It appeared there was nothing beneath it, but if one gripped the ledge and slid over it and swung inward, there was a smaller one beneath. It would be a challenge for the strength of her upper body to climb back up, but she knew it was well worth it.

  He mumbled again, cursing her. Eventually he left, and she pulled herself out from beneath the overhang, tucking his dagger in her belt with a satisfied smile.

  The steam rising from the water in the tub made all the wine Roland drank want to come up. He laid his head back on the rim of the tub, and the moment the room began to spin around, he wished he ate something that evening. All he could think about for the last three days was the bitch who stole his dagger. He knew it was the same woman who ran naked in front of them, taunting them, to distract them from her father, or was it her uncle? She was a brazen little bitch, to have done such a thing, then stole his dagger on top of it all. He returned to the ledge many times, but he never discovered where she disappeared. He went to sleep hearing her condescending laugh, and woke up seeing the superior smile of victory written across her face.