by Wend Petzler
Caught off guard by the question, she answered as calmly as she could. “The Demon Lord purchased it for me.” She smiled as if it were nothing more.
Nicolas was not completely convinced. “I must ask something. Why does the Demon wear his helm when out in public? What does he hide?"
Her bottom lips trembled, startling Nicolas. Tears glittered in her sad eyes. She curled in the chair, turning away from him to stare at the fire burning bright. “The Demon was born with a terrible ailment which could not be cured by any physician,” she whispered, her shoulders hunched up to her ears. Nicolas felt her withdrawing from him, slipping away and it scared him.
"Isabella?” He rose from his seat and kneeled before her, his brow furrowed when she failed to look at him.
Her voice sounded raw and pain reverberated in each word she spoke. “Servants tormented him, treated him lower than a dog. He learned to fight early in life, to defend himself against those who thought they were better than he. He had no one to call family."
Nicolas gently smoothed her wet hair from out of her eyes, startled to see them narrow in grimness, lost in what only she could see. “He had you and Otto."
The fullness of her gaze speared him. The power of her determination and will struck him hard. “Yea, we were inseparable."
Unsure what she meant, he stood up and drew her to him. She shrugged out of his arms and turned to pour herself a glass of wine. Unsure why she desired not to be touched, Nicolas’ hunger struck him, forcing his attention on breakfast. He tried to get her to eat, but she only shook her head and sipped her wine, a pensive look on her elfish features. Pushing the empty plate away, he rose from the table and went to the wardrobe.
"Will you be alright if I go downstairs and check with Gabriel and Michael on what they found in the forest?” he asked, shrugging on a fresh tunic.
She nodded absently before gazing again into the fire. Unsure what was wrong with her, he pressed a kiss on the top of her shiny head and exited the chamber. Pausing at the door, he glanced at her in confusion. Had he done something to upset her?
Hours passed until Nicolas was free to return to their chambers. He found her asleep in the chair, so innocent and sweet. Ever so gently, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Sweeping back the covers, he laid her down, smiling when she curled up on her side, tucking her hands under her cheek. He had tried to talk to Otto about Isabella's withdrawal and was told bluntly it was Isabella's choice to share what bothered her. The Viking stomped away, yet the worry in the big man's eyes gave Nicolas more questions and no one to answer them. Disrobing, he strode to his side of the bed and crawled in. To his relief, Isabella rolled over and snuggled up to him. Enfolding her into his embrace, he lay there uneasy and knew naught why.
Golden sunlight woke Isabella from the first sound sleep she had since Nicolas arrived at Blood Keep. Isabella sat up, looking around the chamber in confusion when she realized she was alone. Her body ached from the unaccustomed attention her husband lavished upon her. Sometime in the night Nicolas had awoken her, taking her once more to the lofty heights of desire and release, driving his hard shaft over and over again until she wanted to scream from the incredible feeling of him being deep inside her.
Today, she chose to wear a simple brown gown, or so she thought. Her battle began as she struggled into the gown, followed by fighting the laces. Not in her nature to give up, she won in the end, sort of. Her arms ached, but she tackled her tangled hair, brushing it out. Isabella decided that braiding the mass was out of the question. Slipping a leather girdle around her hips, she sheathed a wicked-looking dagger in the sheath.
The sun was high in the clear blue sky. Isabella frowned, why she had slept so late? Was she becoming soft? In the hall, servants hustled about their duties. Aggie waved to Isabella to follow her in the kitchen.
"I have breakfast set aside for ye. Ale or milk?"
"Milk, please.” Isabella was famished. Cook and the other kitchen servants giggled behind their hands. Gossip spread like wildfire around the Keep about Isabella's eventful night with her virile husband.
Isabella ignored them. “Where are the men?” she asked Aggie who took a seat opposite of her.
"They left early this morning. Drago wanted to check the border villages and see to their protection personally.” Aggie glanced around to ensure no one was listening. “Gabriel and Michael need to have a private word with you."
"I will speak with them later. By the way, if I am to be forced to continue wearing women's clothes, I demand help! I was barely able to lace the blasted thing up.” Isabella made a face when Aggie got up, readjusting the tangled laces.
"I have just the girl for you. Alison is her name. She's cleaning your chamber as we speak. She brought her son to be squired with a Black Knight.” Aggie sat down, frowning, puzzled. “The boy has promise. Still, he reminds me of someone."
"Who?” Isabella asked curiously.
"Not sure. The lad has clear blue eyes, long silvery-blonde hair, and tall for his age of ten. He took an immediate liking to Gabriel and follows him everywhere.” Aggie chuckled at Gabriel's discomfort.
Laughing, too, she could just imagine her friend's attempts to not to be flattered by the boy's devotion. “How are the arrangements for the tournament?"
"Requests have been coming in from noblemen wishing their illegitimate to compete for a place in our army. I kept those particular ones for you to read privately.” Aggie's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Why did you do that?"
Aggie sighed heavily. “The letters are addressed to Isabella AdeMon."
Her happiness slipped a notch. “Will it ever be the time to tell Drago everything?” Sadness enveloped her heart, the melancholy which struck her last night threatened to take hold again.
"Time for what?” Nicolas asked upon entering the kitchen. Bending low to press a warm kiss on her parted lips, he grew concerned. Isabella's vibrant green eyes looked at him forlorn.
Deciding it time to share a few of her lesser secrets with her husband, Isabella answered, “Entries are starting to arrive for the tournament."
"I have news for you as well. A messenger from London arrived last night. The King commands us to join him for the Spring Festival. He wishes to mend the rift between Blood Keep and Lord Alden, who has apparently been reinstated to court.” Nicolas grimly informed her. When her face paled at the news, he cupped her face tenderly. “I understand if you are afraid to see Alden, but the King commands our presence. We leave on the morrow."
Confused, Isabella looked askance up at him. “Why should I fear Alden? I dread the Court.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
Surprised by her comment, Nicolas frowned at her. “You've been to Court?"
"I am the King's cousin,” Isabella replied haughtily, rising from the table. “Aggie, please have the letters brought to the study. I wish to go over them with Drago."
"Yes, my lady.” Aggie hurried to fetch the letters.
His brow furrowed, “I have been to court off and on for over fifteen years, I do not recall seeing you there ever?” Nicolas tried to place Isabella among the frail beauties, drawing a complete blank. His wife had a commanding presence about her and he would never have forgotten having met her.
Unable to suppress her laughter, it obviously bothered Nicolas about not remembering her. She pushed the door to the study open and entered. “Don't be upset, I stayed mostly in the shadows. I have an aversion to spending time with people who plot to harm or ruin another's reputation."
Relieved, knowing in his heart he would have remembered Isabella, his attention diverted to Aggie who bustled into the study, carrying a large bundle of letters in her arms. He extended his hand to take them, frowning when Aggie hesitated. The woman looked to Isabella who nodded her consent to hand them over to him.
Confused when he read the name addressed on the letters on the top, he glanced at her, alarmed by the pinched expression upon her beautiful features. “Your last name is AdeM
on?” Isabella nodded hesitantly, Nicolas grew more puzzled. “Is not your father Mason, Earl of Middlesex?"
Isabella waved Aggie on her way. The housekeeper closed the doors, ensuring the couple their privacy. “The Earl is not my father."
Nicolas stared at Isabella, stunned. “You are a...?” He couldn't finish the sentence.
"I am a bastard,” Isabella answered, her eyes flat, prepared for his censure. “My mother refused to name her lover, so her husband denied me his. I would not even have a first name if not for Otto."
Nicolas had to sit down, asking himself if it really mattered if she were a bastard. The king obviously loved Isabella, not her lineage. All his life he had lived by the code of a knight, honor above all else. “I believe it is time you told me of your life. Can you trust me?"
Wary of what he sought, she gave a small nod of consent. “What do you wish to know?"
"Otto raised you, didn't he?” She straightened her shoulders and inclined her head. “How did it come about a Viking was allowed in the Earl's household?'
"My grandfather, who is Danish, sent Otto to bring her home when he heard of my mother's imprisonment. He arrived the night she gave birth to me, staying the blade meant to kill me. Otto tried to take me away, but the Earl refused it, issuing if he left charges of kidnapping would be leveled against him. Later, he learned Eleanor had lived in solitude, denied to speak ever again to Serenity."
"You are part Danish?'
Glaring at him, she folded her arms from wanting to slap him. “What? Does it offend your nobility to be shackled to an impure noble woman?"
Nicolas scowled at her. “Will you stop that? I'm not such an arrogant ass."
"Oh really? What did you mean then?"
"I was trying to figure out how you are related to the King. Damn, woman, you really have a low opinion of me."
"It is not because I have a low opinion of you. Rather you look down upon those who do not have an impeccable lineage like yourself,” she shot back.
"Where the hell did you get that idea?"
"From your own lips,” she shouted.
Casting through his mind where he had ever spoken of such things and came up with a startling revelation. “Do you mean because of my doubts about the Black Army joining our campaign in Scotland?"
"Exactly. You were concerned about having baseborn knights fighting such a noble cause as Edward's, for desiring to help their friend obtain Scotland. There is nothing noble about war! Do you know how many good men died in securing Scotland for Edward?” He gave a small shake of his head. “We suffered many losses, especially at Halidon Hill. So many friends, fathers, and sons lost their lives because I sent them there.” Tears ran down her face, unheeded in her rage and pain. “All for a stupid dispute over who should rule a country who desires freedom from another."
Stunned, Nicolas began to see Isabella in a different light and respect grew for her. “I had not realized how much you care about your people. Please, I only wish to help you?” He cupped her cheek, drawing her closer. “I know you have lived a hard life. Can there be a truce drawn between us?"
Shaken by the way Nicolas gently touched her, the concern in his eyes and something else, an emotion she had never seem in his eyes, a genuine need to know more about her. “What do you want from me?"
"I want to be there for you. To protect you and keep you safe from the horrors of the world.” At her arched eyebrow, he smiled ruefully. “Yea, I know it's a bit late, but I do want to take care of you."
"To be honest, I do not regret one moment in my life, not the beatings, the torment, or the mind games the Earl played at my expense. It made me strong."
"There's more to life than just being strong. Life is more than fighting, struggling to rise above our problems, we need to love and be loved."
Confused by the direction of their conversation, she took a wary step back from him. “I had Serenity and Otto to teach me what love is. You see, my sister was older by ten years and often came to Otto's aid in feeding me, changing my diapers. Later, she would put herself in the Earl's path, protecting me the best she could.” Shrugging her shoulders ruefully, “It did not work all the time, I was a child hell bent on defying the Earl as he was in extracting his wife's sin from me physically."
"Where was Otto during the times you were beaten?"
"Usually tied up until Serenity could get to him and set him free to save me."
She said it so matter of fact Nicolas realized her beatings were a regular occurrence. “Did the beatings ever stop?"
Turning away, she looked out the window, breathing hard. Her memories brought her lower than any ailment could and she despised it, the weakness it brought. “Yea, when the Demon Lord donned his helm and took up the sword Otto had personally made for him.” Looking Nicolas dead in the eye, “You see, my dark avenger had decided enough was enough and threatened the Earl upon pain of death if he mistreated me again."
Swallowing hard, he gazed at her, seeing the satisfaction, the unmistakable pride in the hard set of her ethereal features. Hallowed by the morning light, he saw the Demon Lord looming beside his wife, emptiness where eyes should be stared at him. Closing his eyes tight, he looked again, seeing only his wife staring out the windows. He mentally shook himself, confused by the apparition he witnessed. All the ghost stories and rumors he'd heard over the years about Blood Keep were taking a toll on his sanity.
"Thank you for telling me, I admire your honesty. Now, let us address these letters.” Startled when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight, Nicolas pulled her close, surprised she had let her guard down.
Staggered Nicolas could accept her and not condemn her for what had truly been beyond her control, she held onto him. Hope engulfed her. Perhaps a marriage to Nicolas Drago would not be so bad after all. Releasing him, she awkwardly took a seat and broke the wax seal to the nearest letter.
They worked together till noon when Aggie brought in lunch. Afterwards, she showed him the ledgers containing the meticulously maintained records of Blood Keep. The hour was late when they finished. Supper was to be announced soon, and she wished to change. Isabella pressed a warm kiss on his sensual, hard mouth and left him to change for the evening meal. Racing up the stairs to their chamber, she paused outside her door, sensing movement inside.
Someone was in her room.
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Chapter Nine
Peeking through the gap, Isabella spotted a slender woman of average height, hair the color of summer wheat, rummaging through a large chest set to the far end of the chamber. Isabella drew her dagger and slipped inside, staying to the shadows. Accessing the situation, she found only the girl. She crossed her arms, and waited to be noticed.
The young woman's slender hand flew to her throat, startled to see her standing there. Smoky-gray eyes darted toward the door, returning to watch the slim blade as Isabella moved the tip as if saying ‘no'.
"My lady, I am Alison—your new maid.” The maid executed a hasty curtsy, her complexion white as snow.
"Aggie mentioned you. What were you searching for?” Isabella asked, her soft tone belying the violence in her prepared stance.
"I wasn't looking for anything, I swear it! I was only familiarizing myself with your things.
Unsure if the woman spoke the truth or not, Isabella felt Alison had secrets, many secrets. She trusted her instincts and the warning bells were clanging in her head where her new maid was concern. “I wish to change, please aid me.” Isabella placed her dagger on the table. The girl hurried to undo the laces. When Isabella shrugged out of her dress, Alison gasped.
"Who did this to you?” Alison asked hoarsely, recoiling from the scars on her mistress’ back.
"I refused a man's attention. Now, please help me dress. I wish to look my best for Drago.” Isabella watched Alison in the mirror, not sure what bothered her about the girl.
Horrified a noblewoman could be made to endure such physical pain, Alison picked up the
green velvet gown laid out on the bed. She pressed the soft material to her cheek, sadness brought tears to Alison's eyes. Once long ago she had gowns like this, now all gone. Someday, she would have such delights, once her mission was completed.
Resolve shone on Alison's face, warning Isabella the girl had a purpose other than being her maid. The woman would need to be watched indeed. Nearly time for supper, Isabella shrugged on the gown. Wishing to hurry, she decided to forgo the customary braiding of her hair when Alison objected most heartily.
"My lady, married women must wear a wimble. It is not proper to go about without it,” Alison objected.
"Proper or not, I wear my hair the way I want. A reminder—I value my privacy. No more snooping around my chambers,” Isabella instructed, her tone deadly to disobey. She led the way out of the chambers, closing the door firmly behind the maid. “Let us be on our way, shall we?"
Once downstairs, Isabella rejoined her husband, smiling as he drew her into the shelter of his heavily muscled chest, his strong arms completing the circle. Isabella rose on her toes, kissing his beautiful, warm mouth. “Ready?” Nicolas nodded, leading her to their table.
Alison watched the merriment from the shadows. Her son ate with Sir Gabriel. The boy wore a look of awe on his sweet features. Her heart near to burst with pride, Allen was learning so much from the noble knight. A large part of her yearned to join in the laughter. All Alison ever wanted was to be part of a loving family again. Since their arrival at Blood Keep, she and her son were given new clothes, even a cottage of their very own to live in. So many years had passed since Alison felt welcomed. He promised he would make her years of suffering seem a distant nightmare, making it all up to her and Allen, if she helped bring down the Demon Lord.
Why must the Demon Lord be destroyed when the real threat came from Drago? She had not seen the Demon Lord since her arrival, though she found something interesting in the Lord's chambers—sheets bearing virginal stains. Alison hid the evidence in her cottage, insurance in case things went wrong. If her lover did not keep his word, she could use the sheets to blackmail Lady Isabella. Did he know Isabella was still a virgin? If she had not slept with her first husband, would the sheets stir things up faster? Alison would wait and see what was to unfold.
