by Wend Petzler
The subject of the king's reflection held his horse steady as a rider cantered towards him out of the murky dark. The stocky man's hood was drawn, his face hidden, a hand resting on the hilt of a claymore.
"You're late,” Alden snapped, his eyes darting nervously to the shadowy trees along the Thames. When the rider remained silent, Alden grew infuriated by the lack of respect given him. “Tell William I want him to ambush Drago on his way to Blood Keep. I have a woman in his party who will ensure Lady Isabella is delivered into his hands."
"Are ye crazy? No one dares attack Drago and expects to get away with it!” The Scotsman made to back his mount away from the insane Englishman when the man halted him.
"Once you have Isabella in your grasp, Drago will halt his attack. He loves the bitch and will do anything to get her back. She will make for a rich ransom, if taken alive.” Alden chuckled, plotting his revenge.
The Scot shivered at the mad light in the Englishman's eyes. “I will deliver the message. What do ye want done with yer woman if all goes as planned?"
A sadistic leer curled Alden's lips. “Make sure Lady Alison is well taken care of until I send word."
"Aye.” Turning his horse around, the man urged his mount to a canter, wanting to get far away from the Englishman he could get. The others felt the same, questioning William's involvement with Lord Alden. The mon was evil. The Scot made a sign of the cross over his heart, urging his horse to a faster gait.
Dinner was over at last!
Nicolas pushed away from the table, firmly taking Isabella's hand in his, practically dragging her away to have a private word. “What in the hell were you thinking by calling Emma a whore in front of the King? You acted deplorably tonight!” Nicolas glared down at his wife, angry and embarrassed by her actions.
"Me? What about you,” Isabella hissed. “I've had enough of your inept handling of your mistress. I have acted like a proper lady and here you stand berating me for acting in a manner unbefitting of my station?” A cruel, humorless smile curved her lips. “You absolutely have no clue what I am really capable of and this is something you should fear! The time is fast closing in on you, Drago, when you must decide what you truly want from me and pray I am willing to comply,” she spat. Storming away from him, she threw a murderous glare in his direction. Fed up with pretending to be something she was not, Isabella decided it time to get her life back, somehow.
The evening continued to drag on. Furious over the way Lady Emma continued to lavish wanton attentions on Nicolas, Isabella's anger grew by leaps and bounds, hitting a lethal level. The worst part was her husband seemed to enjoy the attention, making no effort to stop her. Emma cast a smug smile at her, and each time she reminded herself to act as a proper lady. And so, Isabella endured.
Alison decided she'd seen enough and grabbed Isabella's arm, leading her away from the sickening display. “Forgive me, I should never have instructed you to be more like these noblewomen. Be who you are. Let not that slut treat you in such a despicable manner. If you love Drago, you must go and claim him.” Alison spoke from the heart, squeezing Isabella's hands. “Go and kick Lady Emma's buttocks!"
Isabella's eyes widened at her friend's outburst. A wicked grin formed on her soft lips, determination glowed in her green eyes. Isabella scanned the chamber, seeking her prey, finding Emma chatting with several women by the wine table. Taking Alison's hand in hers, Isabella sauntered towards the unsuspecting female.
Pouting when Drago abruptly left her to attend the King, Emma stared at his impressive figure, licking her lips as a feline before a saucer of cream. She reached for another glass of wine, bumping into a woman whose back was to her. She huffed, railing at the insolent woman in her way.
"Excuse me,” Emma exclaimed peevishly when the woman did not move. Nudging the uncouth woman's shoulder, she gasped when a glass of chilled red wine splashed directly in her face, staining the white gown she wore.
Isabella swung about, tossing the entire contents of her glass in the astonished woman's face. “I am so sorry! You startled me.” Appearing contrite, her eyes sparkled with amusement.
"You did it that on purpose, you ... you savage,” Emma shrieked.
Head held high, Isabella stood proudly before the dripping Emma. “I would rather be considered a savage than a bitch in heat.” The large crowd gathered around the two women gasped.
The red-haired woman flew at her, screaming, trying to claw at Isabella's smiling face. Isabella easily dodged the wild swings, staying out of reach of Emma's long nails, bending and twisting from her waist. Enraged further from not being unable to scratch the bitch who had publicly trampled her honor, Emma screamed her frustration.
Nicolas stood stock still when he heard the outraged feminine scream. Running toward the gathered crowd to see who was in trouble, he skidded to a halt when he saw Isabella and an attacking Emma. Before he could step in to halt the fight, Isabella drew back her right fist, punching the furious woman dead in the nose. Emma flew backward nearly ten feet, landing flat on her back, her skirts flipping over her unconscious face.
Disbelieving at what happened, he found he could only stare at his gloating wife. Isabella actually knocked Emma out cold! A look of pure satisfaction crossed her beautiful features. Isabella raised cold, hard eyes to his and faced him with a wild, fierce pride. Looking around, he caught noblemen and women gaping at him, wondering what he would do to his disruptive wife.
Striding angrily over to Isabella, he growled, “What have you done? We are at the Royal palace, not Blood Keep. You cannot go around striking people when you are angry."
Trying very hard to humble her stance, she folded her hands meekly in front of her. Despite her contrite appearance, defiance flared in her eyes. In a soft voice, laced with steel, Isabella answered him honestly, “I defended myself. Emma attacked me without provocation."
A petite, young woman stepped from the gawking crowd. “I saw the whole event, Lord Drago. Lady Isabella did only defend herself.” The woman met Isabella's questioning look, surprising her with a silent thank you.
Startled when other women nodded their approval, Isabella realized her husband wasn't the only prey Emma sought with her womanly charms. Others added voice to her defense, making her blush at their praise.
Sir Reginald stepped forward, bowing low to Isabella before facing Drago. “Forgive me, Lord Drago, I unwittingly insulted your wife earlier today. I'm guilty of listening to Lady Emma's lies about Lady Isabella. Your brave wife had only defended herself from a spiteful woman bent on hurting her and winning you to share her bed."
She accepted the knight's apology with a regal nod. The crowd parted for Phillipa and Edward who coughed in an attempt to suppress his laughter when he viewed the unconscious woman. Emma's face was still covered by her upturned skirts, exposing white, plump thighs to a captive audience. His face became red with the effort. Phillipa glared at him, disgusted by his lack of etiquette.
"Will someone please give Lady Emma some dignity and draw her skirts down?” Phillipa ordered, glaring at her husband who finally brought some semblance of control over his amusement at the serious situation.
Isabella curtsied, appearing somewhat meek. Edward knew his cousin better than anyone, reading the hard determination in her eyes. He choked back the laughter as Drago glared at Isabella who raised her chin defiantly. The man was clueless where his wife was concerned, Edward thought, pitying the young man.
Striding over to Drago, Edward spoke softly for the knight's ears alone. “Do you not think Isabella has suffered enough humiliation tonight to warrant defending herself from Lady Emma? I consider Emma lucky to be breathing. My Bella is quite a demon when she puts her mind to a task. Take heed and decide now which side you wish to be on, Isabella's enemy or her husband who should have defended her honor.” Edward quietly warned Nicolas, his shrewd brown eyes intent on his champion before shifting to Isabella and her companion.
"Ladies, I bid you a good-night. All shall be viewed differe
ntly in the morning.” Edward bent down and whispered in Isabella's ear, “Hell of punch, my dear,” And winked at her. Curtsying, they left. Drago stared at his departing wife, distressed by his part in the scene caused. “Think about what I said. Isabella is the greatest asset a man can be lucky enough to have by his side. Learn to appreciate her talents. I have found she can be quite helpful.” Edward offered his arm to his Queen and led her away from the excitement.
Ahmed's dark eyes were sad. Nicolas frowned, furious at the events unfolding. “What?” he demanded of the silent Arab.
Disappointed in Drago, Ahmed bowed to him. “Master, you are a wise man, you know what needs be done."
Heaving a deep sigh, Nicolas knew in his heart he had wronged Isabella. She would not have had to defend herself if he'd stepped in earlier and talked to Emma. “Come, I must make amends with Isabella. I've made many mistakes, and I know I have much more to learn about women."
Grinning, Ahmed's white teeth were bold against his dark skin. “Learn not about women, but one in particular. Lady Isabella follows no rules and cannot be bound by such. You must accept who she is, not what you think she should be.” He followed, silently laughing at Drago, thinking the man had a long way to go in understanding Isabella.
Vindicated, Isabella strode happily down the hallway. It felt wonderful to hit the arrogant bitch and knock Emma out cold. Elation ebbed as her heart, saddened by the fact she would never be a lady, not even when she had tried her best. Her destiny was set the day she was born and nothing could change it. Not even the admiration she felt for her husband or the tender feelings that rose each time she gazed into his eyes or the desire when he made love to her. She was who she was.
Seeing the slump of Isabella's shoulders, Alison turned to her and hugged her. “Isabella, no matter what happens, I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you."
"Thank you for being my friend. I do sometimes wish my life was different, yet, because of who I am many still live."
"Isabella, did you notice Alden wasn't at dinner tonight?"
"Yea, I took note the bastard was absent. I think I'd better.... “She stopped short. Surprised at herself for almost speaking of something outside of Otto, Michael, and Gabriel, she gave a brief smile to the confused woman. “Get some sleep, we leave at dawn."
Hope surged through Alison. Beginning to suspect there was more to her friend than she let on, Alison felt they had an excellent chance of surviving Alden.
Lost in thought, Isabella entered her room, surprised to find candles lit and the covers on the bed folded back invitingly. Too bad, Isabella thought morosely, removing the circlet from her head. Drago must hate her for hurting his mistress and publicly humiliating him before his peers.
"Damn, I'd better go find out where Alden was.” Trading her dress for her leather outfit, she slipped out the balcony and into the night, seeking her prey.
In his mind, Nicolas went over and over his speech, hoping Isabella could find it in her heart to forgive him. Upon entering the chamber, he froze, seeing her discarded red dress and no sign of his wife. Abandoning the room, he ran to Alison's and pounded on the door. A wide eye peered through the crack before it swung open to a frightened Alison.
"My lord, what has happened?"
"Is Isabella in your room?"
Blinking several times, she realized Isabella wasn't just speaking figuratively about finding Alden, she had intended to actually do it! “No, my lord, she.... “What was she to tell the Baron and not get in trouble?"
"What did she do?” he demanded in soft voice, belying the violence in his eyes.
"She must have gone for a walk, needing some fresh air after the fight in the great hall."
"Damn that woman!” Nicolas charged down the hall, cursing his wife threefold at her stupidity. Did she realize how much danger she was in with Alden walking about the castle?
Ahmed remained behind, looking askance at a flustered Alison. “My lady, where did the Mistress go?"
"Lady Isabella told me nothing of her intentions.” Dodging back inside her room, she slammed the door and locked it. Alison pressed a hand to her mouth, pacing back and forth when she heard a soft tap on the window. Peering closer, she saw Isabella standing on the balcony, dressed in leather pants and tunic, all black.
She hurried to open it and stared in amazement when Isabella entered. “Isabella, where were you going?"
"It makes no never mind. Is Ahmed still out there?"
"I can't tell without opening the door."
"Damn that husband of mine. I thought for sure he would spend the evening being angry with me.” Consternation colored her high cheekbones.
Surprised by her words, Alison asked, “You were hoping he would still be angry with you?"
Plopping down in a nearby chair, she gave her a lopsided grin. “I suppose it sounds odd, but I thought I could slip out and not get caught investigating Lord Alden."
"What do you need to know?"
"I need to know if the bastard is going to attack us on our way home."
"Oh.” Alison took a seat opposite of Isabella. “You need not search tonight. He told me I was to help his cause, if I wished to see my son live a long life.” Ashamed, she stared at her tightly clasped hands, surprised when Isabella covered them. Isabella's understanding smile made Alison feel even worse.
"Thank you for telling me. Worry not, no one needs to know where I got my information. What matters most is we can be better prepared.” Glancing around her, Isabella thought out loud, “Now, how do I get back into my room without being caught?"
Alison jumped to her feet and grabbed a silk robe from the closet. “Here, change into it. I'll hide your clothes in my trunk and no one will ever know."
"What about Ahmed?"
"He knows I lied about where you went and if you exit my room he will think I hid you from Drago."
Chuckling at the ruse, Isabella shed her clothes and donned the robe. When Alison folded the garments and put them in her leather satchel, she took a deep breath and opened the door. Ahmed swung around expecting Alison, instead saw her.
"Mistress, I thought.... “he stuttered in confusion.
"Ahmed, I am sorry for the deception, I just didn't want to talk to Drago yet."
Without waiting for a response, Isabella swept past him and ducked into her own room.
Tired and in no mood to search the palace for his wayward wife, Nicolas headed back to their chamber where Ahmed informed him of the deception the women concocted. His anger faded. Isabella must be extremely upset to hide from him. It was his fault and only he could make it better. Turning the knob, he stepped inside and saw her sitting by the fire. He closed the door and leaned against it, arms crossed across his massive chest, watching her. When she continued to brush her hair, he pushed away from the door and stepped before her and halted. Isabella dropped the brush and rose from the chair to face him. To her utter amazement, Nicolas dropped to his knees, gripping her hips in his strong grasp and gazed up at her. His words left her stunned.
"I have greatly wronged you tonight. I should have protected you from Emma's games. I should have told her to leave my wife alone. My only excuse is I had hoped Emma would tire and find another."
Hot tears blurred her vision. Hesitant, she slowly wrapped her arms around him, her self-control slipped further and she openly wept. Nicolas rose to tower over her and drew her upward to meet his kiss.
They tore their clothes off, desperate to feel their skin naked, pressing to one another. His mouth moved hungrily over hers, claiming her as his. Nicolas swept Isabella in his arms and laid her down on the bed. Passion burned red hot and sweet. Drawing her legs apart, he thrust inside her. Pounding harder and faster, he swept them along to the heavens. Isabella's fingers dug in his tight buttocks, lifting her hips to meet each savage thrust. His hands gripped her buttocks, lifting her at more of an angle to meet his shaft ramming home. Once, twice and he buried his engorged member deep, roaring her name as Isabella shatte
red with the sheer beauty of their bodies joined.
Rising on his elbows, Nicolas was stunned when she shoved at him, her face adverted. “Isabella, what is wrong?"
Shaking her head, she refused to speak to him. Confused, he shifted to his side, resting his hand on her hip when she rolled away from him, weeping softly. “Please, tell what I've done to upset you.” When she spoke, he barely heard her voice, but her words hit him like an anvil.
"Why did you sleep with Emma last night?” Isabella choked out, tormented that Nicolas could bring her to such glorious heights of gratification and casually do the same to another woman.
Urging Isabella to look at him, he gently wiped her tears away. “My love, where did you get such a notion?"
Shoving his hand away, she sat up, glaring at him. “I saw the two of you together last night,” she shouted, furious he could lie to her.
Sitting up, he grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her still despite her struggle to leave. “Hold!” Using his heavier weight to pin her down, he tried to explain, “I did not kiss her. Emma threw herself at me and caught me by surprise. I swear I've never been unfaithful to you.” When she stilled, looking at him dubiously, Nicolas pressed a soft kiss on her passion-swollen lips. “Believe in me, I would never hurt you in such a despicable way."
"You swear upon your honor which you hold so dear?"
"I swear upon my honor I desire no other woman than you."
The look she gave him remained haunted despite his assurances. Rolling away from him, she curled up on her side without uttering another word to him. Resting his head against the headboard, Nicolas remained awake, confused. How had she seen Emma kiss him? The only way to get in or out of the wing was past him that night. A niggling thought persisted, causing him to wonder, who was Isabella really?
Early the next morning they met with Edward before leaving for Blood Keep. “Nicolas, I have complete confidence you will be the victor at the joust. However, I wish to speak privately with my cousin. I shall escort Isabella to you afterward."
