by Wend Petzler
"Oh, we must see the maze! I use to get lost when I was a little girl.” Alison smiled as fond memories replaced bad ones of Alden. She missed her father dearly, perhaps one day he would forgive her. At the present, she had to straighten out the mess she was involved in.
"We shall visit the gardens then."
The sun shone brightly above, the month of May unusually warm. Ladies wore beautiful, brightly-colored gowns, chaperoned by handsome knights. They laughed gaily and strolled along the green lawns. Once upon a time Isabella envied the women their gentility, soft voices, and immaculate manners. When she lived briefly in London, she saw the reality of those same women up close, the gold diggers and vicious man-eaters. Only a scant few of the women at court were genuinely true ladies, overshadowed by those of Emma's ink.
Alison felt as if she had gone to heaven, at the same time missing her son terribly. She felt alive again. Inhaling the freshly cut lawns, she bent to pick a bouquet of spring flowers in bloom, scenting the air with promises of summer. A handsome knight of lean build and sandy brown hair approached, bowing low to her and Isabella.
"Good morning ladies. May I join you in a stroll along the green?” The man's voice was smooth and well versed, Alison liked him immediately.
"Please walk with us, Sir Knight.” Alison smiled shyly up at the man.
Isabella was not so easily fooled. His hot gaze boldly roamed over her own breasts, staring at her person far too intimately for her peace of mind. The knight offered his arm to her and she was tempted to snub him. Alison's words came back to haunt her, reminding her to act more a lady. Hesitating, Isabella accepted.
"My name is Sir Reginald, and I have heard many interesting stories about you, Lady Isabella.” His voice lowered to a seductive whisper as he deliberately slowed, allowing Alison and Henry to drift ahead of them.
She felt a flush creep up her neck. “Such as?” Isabella asked sweetly, batting her lashes demurely, determined to find out what he heard.
"Lady Emma has hinted you and your husband share an open marriage. If so, I beg of you, please allow me to taste of your bounteous favors.” Reginald's voice deepened ardently and he pressed close to her side as his hand curved along her smooth cheek.
Her eyes flashed emerald fire as she shoved the simpering fool away. “Do you honestly believe you can compete with Drago in my bed? Allow me to correct you in your presumption of my loose morals!” She ripped into his character.
Alison and Henry halted, staring in shock. She did not know what to do, slap the man or feel sorry for him as Isabella yelled at him. Henry rushed to his baroness’ side, rage made his young face appear more youthful. Alison decided to walk a ways to an over-grown tree for shade, watching the scene with amusement. A hand suddenly clamped over her mouth, silencing her scream. Her kidnapper dragged her through the shrubbery and whipped her around. Frightened, her eyes flew wide as she came face to face with Alden.
"Scream not! I would not think twice on snapping your lovely neck.” Alden snarled and shook her viciously. “You were to aid me in bringing the Demon Lord down, and now you stand before me dressed in finery donated by the very woman who should have been my wife?” Spittle formed at the edges of his thin lips, eyes glazed with a half-mad light in the icy depths.
Alison shivered in terror. The man was insane, for surely no rational man would press Drago like Alden did. Courage gave her voice. “Baron Drago has given me and my son sanctuary! You cannot harm us,” she spat, fear shifting to anger.
His expression changed dramatically, a look of cunning replaced his rage. “Oh really? What should you ever do if Drago was to suddenly have an accident? Or, how would you feel if your son was found murdered? Shall we make another arrangement, one in which we can both benefit?” he whispered encouragingly, his eyes burning with madness.
"What kind of an arrangement?” Alison asked him, her voice shaking despite the effort to maintain a calm composure.
"Where is the Demon Lord?” Alden demanded his hands gripped her arms in a bruising grasp.
"I told you many times, I've not laid eyes on the dark knight since my arrival at Blood Keep.” Alison struggled to free herself from his hurtful grasp.
"I need to know the knight's exact whereabouts. I cannot marry Isabella if the Demon lives.” Alden looked wildly around to ensure they were alone.
"Drago guards Isabella with his life. You will not hurt my friend."
Continuing on as if he had not heard a word she said, “The Demon Lord is more a problem than Drago. The dark knight appears and vanishes at will as if he were the Dark Specter, himself. I need to find the Demon Lord before he finds me! But you are right about Drago. I cannot hope to win against him in the joust, so he must be dealt with before the Tournament of the Demons. Once the Red Dragon and the Demon are out of the way, I will have free rein over the Black Army. Then, I will have a chance to claim the English Crown. You do know Isabella is Edward's cousin?"
The crazed man focused on Alison once more. “Aid me and I shall let you live to raise my son. Fail me and I shall derive great pleasure in making you scream in agony.” His mouth pressed wetly to her ear, his tongue licked the dainty orb. Alden chuckled evilly at her shudder of revulsion.
Alison knew she was trapped. If she did this, she caused the death of her only friend's husband. If she didn't, Allen would be forever in danger from his own father. Helpless tears coursed down her cheeks. “I will obey."
"Excellent. When do you leave for Blood Keep?"
"Dawn. We leave at dawn."
"I need to prepare a welcoming party for Drago and his beautiful wife. Say nothing to anyone. I will take special care of you when Isabella is in my grasp.” Alden ran a hand over the full curve of her breast. “I would dearly love to relive old memories with you, but I must be about my business. Keep in mind I will reacquaint myself with the softness of your delicious body very soon.” He pulled her roughly to his lean, hard body, kissing her soft lips wetly and sloppy, then disappeared through the maze.
Her legs trembled, threatening to give out from under. She leaned briefly against the tree for support. What was she to do? Alison broke through the shrubs in time to hear Isabella ordering the ardent knight away.
"I swear if you come near me again, I will have you thrown in the tower! If that is not enough of a threat perhaps a talk with my husband would aid you in cooling your ardor,” Isabella shouted, furious at the slurs Emma banded about her. She was about to add more when she saw Alison appear from the shrubbery, her face streaked with tears.
Opening her mouth to ask what was wrong, she shut it when Alison dropped her gaze. “Henry, we will return to our chambers.” Isabella placed her arm comfortingly around Alison's thin shoulders.
The young knight glared at Reginald. “Rest assured, Lord Drago will hear of this matter."
Lady Emma smiled wickedly, watching the scene from a safe distance. Reginald's face was white, realizing his fatal plunder. To face Drago was out of the question and he hastily exited the gardens. Emma smirked. She would have the virile Drago in her bed tonight.
Alison said not a word, wearing the expression of a woman condemned to death. Isabella worried for her friend. She opened the door to Alison's chamber and a maid waited inside the room. Isabella instructed the girl to bring hot water for a bath. She urged Alison to sit on the bed and took the woman's cold hands in hers.
"Someone threatened you, haven't they? I know you will not tell me, but I can guess who the monster is. Hear my words, you are not responsible if violence comes our way. Drago is formidable, and he will not be conquered. The Demon Lord supports Drago wholeheartedly. No man can hope to succeed against both champions. Trust me.” Isabella smiled confidently, her eyes twinkled mysteriously. She sighed, becoming serious. “If plans do go wrong, promise me you will save yourself no matter what happens."
"What?” Alison gasped in surprise.
"You will save yourself. Act as if you side with our enemy, let them think you betrayed me. For your son's sake, you
must act in self preservation,” Isabella spoke fervently, squeezing Alison's hands desperately. “Promise me?"
Alison reluctantly gave in. “I promise I will do what is needed of me, but I won't abandon you. You are as dear to me as any sister could ever be!” She hugged Isabella fiercely.
Isabella sighed knowing the games were not over by a long shot. “I will be in my chamber if you need me.” The gleam in her eyes gave her a predatory look. “I plan to have a little fun with our dear Lady Emma at dinner tonight. Bathe and rest. We are going to have an eventful evening.” Isabella left the chamber.
Smothering a giggle, Alison thought of poor Emma and the bad night the woman was in for. The horrible woman deserved it, she thought angrily. Shocked by her vengeful thoughts, she realized to be a noblewoman was to have no character. Determined, she decided she desired to be more like Isabella. The tawny-haired woman lived life to the fullest while giving no quarter to her enemies. Isabella was strong, driven by what was right and wrong. From what she heard at Blood Keep about the Demon Lord and the great deeds he accomplished, Alison wondered if the Demon and Isabella were somehow related.
Fanciful dreams, she admonished herself. Just dreams.
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Chapter Thirteen
Nicolas’ broad shoulders sagged with fatigue. Turning the doorknob to their chamber, splashing water attracted his attention toward the screen set up by the fireplace. The stark silhouette of Isabella's naked form stirred his tired body as a maid helped her out of the tub. When the screen was removed, he was disappointed to see her wearing a white sheet wrapped around her lithe body.
The maid gasped in surprise when she saw Drago recline wearily in a chair. Isabella smiled, knowing the instant Nicolas entered the chamber, connected to him as none other in her life. Despite last night's humiliation, her heart went out to him, exhaustion evident in the set of his long frame sagging in the chair.
"Do you wish to stay in our chamber for the evening meal?” Isabella asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice. She sat on a stool for the maid to brush her hair.
Rubbing his face resigned, Nicolas wanted nothing more than to lie in bed and wrap Isabella in his arms and sleep. “Edward wishes to honor his Border Barons to keep them happy and willing to give aid when he calls upon us.” Nicolas leaned his head back, closing his eyes. During the conference, he had envisioned Isabella with his child growing inside her belly. Peace settled in him and he did not wish for it to end. It was then it hit him that war had begun to have less appeal and having a family became more important.
"What has happened?” she asked, half-afraid of his answer.
"Scotland is teetering on the edge of another rebellion. Edward's spies have uncovered information of France aiding their cause. There is more, something which affects us all. Edward has declared he wants France."
Sadness overwhelmed her at the news. War again? Will she ever be granted the peace to have children, to experience the joy of bringing life into the world instead of delivering death to men? She could not help the traitorous thoughts of what her life would have been like, if she had not been raised with a sword in her grasp.
The maid helped Isabella dress in a gown of blood red. The velvet infinitely smooth, near to being suede, glided down her ripe curves. Fascinated by the contrast of her sun-kissed skin against the deep red of the gown, Nicolas stared, amazed by her beauty. Glints of gold in her hair caught the candles’ light as the maid set a circlet encrusted with rubies on Isabella's head. Having chosen to leave her long hair down, he was pleased for he loved the way her burnished hair flowed past her gently flared hips. His breathing quickened.
Dismissing the maid for the evening, Isabella drew her skirt to the side and sat on his lap, entwining her arms around his sturdy neck. His powerful arms went around her as he rested his head against hers. “It will be all right.” Isabella whispered, her lips brushing the sensitive skin along his neck as she spoke.
Shifting her, his mouth swooped down to capture hers, parting her soft lips, bringing a rush of pleasure so intense it nearly made her weep with joy. Isabella sighed with delight, deepening the kiss. His large hand slid up her ribs to capture a soft, rounded breast, using a thumb to caress the hardening nipple underneath the smooth surface. Isabella clung to him, seeking more contact. Nicolas flipped her skirt over her knees, allowing him more freedom to explore her. Sliding through the downy curls, he teased her, caressed the tiny pearl nub. Increasing the sensual strokes of his finger, he broke off from her sweet lips and moved over her neck, his tongue licked a wet path to lavish the pulse beneath her dainty ear. Her hips rose to match the thrusting of his fingers and suddenly she gasped in sweet surrender to the waves of pleasure washing over her. Nicolas held her, savoring the feel of Isabella as she helplessly rode the waves of pleasure rippling through her.
"How do you feel?” Nicolas whispered seductively in her ear.
Shuddering in response, she clung to him. She flushed bright red and buried her face in the curve of his neck, embarrassed to her very soul. Lifting her from his lap, he rose to stand beside her, steadying her. Nicolas led her to the bed, urging her to sit down. He changed into a tunic of rich brown with gold thread embroidery around the hem and sleeves. Splashing water on his face, he reached for her brush and combed out his tangled hair. Ready to face the evening and its trials, he turned to his wife.
A quizzical expression on her beautiful face gave him pause. “What?” Nicolas asked, bemused.
"Why did you not want pleasured in return?” Isabella frowned, uncertain what Nicolas expected from her.
Throwing back his head, Nicolas laughed heartily at her. She pressed her lips tightly, confused by his actions. Using his larger frame to force Isabella back on the bed, he braced his hands as he leered in her surprised face.
"The evening has just begun my dear wife. We have the next few hours to plan how our next engagement will unfold.” Claiming her lips in a mind-shattering kiss, Nicolas wanted her to have absolute no doubt in her mind he would not break his word again.
Wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down until he lay full upon her, Isabella left no doubt in Nicolas’ mind she accepted his challenge. Much was left to be learned about Drago, she speculated, reassured he would teach her all she wanted to know about pleasuring him. If only she could convince him she was more woman than Lady Emma. Nicolas rolled off her and held his hand out to help her up. Standing, she adjusted her circlet and gown before accepting his offered arm to leave.
Outside Alison's door, he knocked, waiting until she answered, pale and frightened. Nicolas frowned, wondering what had happened today. When neither woman would look at him, he came to the quick conclusion he would have to wait. Upon entering the great hall, Nicolas nearly groaned out loud, catching sight of Lady Emma. Ushering his wife to their seats near the King and Queen, he soon found out the sultry beauty refused to be deterred from her goal, him.
When Emma waited impatiently for him to assist her with her chair beside his, his temper wore thin. Nicolas came to the hurried conclusion why he had not pursued the lovely Emma for marriage. The woman was demanding and selfish in her ambitions to gain what she desired, no matter whom got hurt in the process. Later in the evening, he would set Emma straight for he was quite happy with his wife.
Watching Emma press her overflowing bosom against Nicolas’ arm as she asked some inane question, Isabella grimly came to the conclusion Lady Emma needed to be dealt a finishing blow to her inflated ego. The Archbishop rose, momentarily distracting her as prayer was spoken over the sumptuous meal waiting to be consumed.
Emma's cunning gaze shifted to Isabella who quietly ate her meal. “Is it true, Isabella, you have recently become civilized enough to join us at court? Living in the wilds, it's no small wonder of your barbaric ways.” A superior smile on her porcelain face, Emma spoke sweetly, baiting Isabella.
Chuckles spread around the table stirring Nicolas’ anger. Before he could res
pond, his wife answered. Her words left him speechless.
Isabella's mouth pulled sardonically to one side. “One wonders what you consider civil and appropriate. I see a widow making an ass out of herself by openly pursuing a married man, the same man who is currently married to me. In fact, if I am to be called a barbarian, I must deduce you are a whore."
Flushing scarlet red, she sputtered out, “I am insulted! I am not pursuing your husband, your insecurities are painfully clear.” She tried to maintain a semblance of dignity in light of the accusation.
"My character is not in question. Yours is. And quite frankly, my reputation is impeccable with many who will attest to my honor. You on the other hand, I believe I can find many who will agree you play the harlot with much enthusiasm.” The woman flushed an even darker shade of red. Nicolas stared at her in disbelief.
Furious at being put on the spot by his own wife and a former mistress, he dared not look at the questioning stares of the dinner guests, focusing on his plate instead. For once, Emma wisely kept her mouth shut, paying close attention to what was on her plate.
Alison hid her laughter behind a linen cloth. Never again would she tell Isabella to act more like a lady. As far as she was concerned, Isabella was a lady in the truest sense. Studying her friend, she saw more than a noblewoman raised far from court, but a woman with a strong will and determination rivaling the King's.
Edward grew alarmed and knew by the set of Isabella's lovely jaw, trouble was brewing. Phillipa grew extremely nervous. Both were quite aware of Isabella's nasty temper. Taking Phillipa's hand in his, Edward pressed a reassuring kiss in the center of her palm. If the girl could run Blood Keep single-handed for five years, Isabella could handle the spoiled widow. Edward grew amused by his champion who kept his eyes glued to his plate, caught between the women.
An uneasy feeling overcame Edward when he noticed Lord Alden, the master troublemaker, was not at dinner. What was the bastard up to now? Undoubtedly, up to no good, Edward thought sadly. Was there ever to be peace in his kingdom? Was his entire reign to be ruled by bloodshed and deceitful games?
