Lindsey, Johanna - Prisoner Of My Desire

by Prisoner Of My Desire (lit)

  teeth. But graciously, or perversely, since he had noted she was not eating, he

  piled her own gold plate high. If she had tried to swallow anything, she was

  certain she would vomit.

  Gilbert was in highest spirits. He had done what he had set out to do, so naught

  could sour him, not even her silence each time he spoke to her.

  He sat on her other side, ate with gusto, downed chalices of wine with even more

  gusto, and bragged endlessly of how he would now run Fulkhurst out of their

  shire, if he could not actually kill him, which was what he would prefer to do.

  And Mildred had spoken true. Gilbert was not even allowing Lyons men to

  participate fully in the celebrations, to which there were many outspoken

  grumbles, but had them leaving the keep in groups of one hundred throughout the

  day. They were being sent to his own stronghold, to join his army there, which

  already had orders to march to Tures with the new dawn. He was not even going to

  wait until he could hire more men. He wanted Fulkhurst besieged at Tures before

  the warlord could slip away.

  Rowena was not the least bit interested in his talk of war. She hated Gilbert

  enough now that she hoped he could not wrest Tures away from Fulkhurst, even

  though that would mean it would never be hers again. She no longer cared.

  Gilbert was as much a warmonger as Fulkhurst was. Heartily, she hoped they

  killed each other.

  When the time came for the ladies to usher her off to the nuptial chamber,

  Rowena was so beset with dread, she was sure she was going to be sick. Her skin

  was as pasty white as her husband?s, and her eyes hurt from fighting back tears

  all day.

  There were no bawdy jests or crude advice, as was the custom at weddings. Looks

  of pity were all she received, and the women made fast work of preparing her and

  getting out of there. She was left in her thin shift. No one had suggested she

  remove it, not that she would have. Godwine was so blind he might not notice,

  and that would leave at least something between her skin and his.

  As soon as she was alone, she slipped her bedrobe on and made haste to put out

  all the candles except those by the bed, which she could douse without leaving

  it. Then she headed for the table where she had already noticed the bottle of

  wine and two chalices, with only one filled. She hesitated in reaching for the

  drugged wine, however. The potion was to last only a few hours. What if her

  husband did not come to her for a few hours? Should she wait a while more? What

  she should have done was ask Mildred how long she must wait for the potion to

  take effect.

  The door flew open without warning and Gilbert came swiftly forward, his dark

  eyes on the hand reaching for the chalice.

  ?Nay, leave that,? he ordered tersely, ready to stop her if she did not heed him.

  He carried his own bottle of wine and set it on the table.

  ? ?Tis lucky I thought to wonder at your docility.?

  ?What else can I be, when you hold my mother prisoner??

  He ignored her words, scowling down at the chalice of wine.

  ?Did you mean to poison him??

  ?Nay.?

  His scowl got darker as it turned on her.

  ?Yourself, then??

  She let out a laugh, near hysterical, wishing she had the nerve. He grasped her

  shoulders and shook her.

  ?Answer!?

  She shrugged off his hands.

  ?If I would poison anyone, ?twould be you!? she hissed, angry enough to show him

  all that she was feeling in the look she gave him.

  He looked flustered for a moment. And it occurred to her that he had actually

  been afraid that she might do herself harm.

  He did not meet her eyes when he said ?You make too much of this.?

  She was aware he referred to her marriage.

  ?The sooner you get yourself with child, the sooner I will get rid of him for

  you.?

  ?So you do mean to kill him??

  He did not answer, for he had left the door open, and they could hear the party

  approaching with the groom.

  ?Get yourself to the bed to await him.?

  He gave her a little shove in that direction.

  ?And behave yourself as befits a bride.?

  Rowena whirled around.

  ?You aught await him there, as this marriage is your doing,? she whispered

  furiously.

  ?He is so blind, mayhap he will not notice the difference.?

  Gilbert actually grinned.

  ?I am pleased to see you still have the spirit I ofttimes noticed. Indeed, ?tis

  wise of me not to trust you, so I will take these with me.?

  ?These? were the bottle of wine and the filled chalice that had been standing on

  the table. Rowena had to bite her lip to keep from begging him to leave her the

  cup at least. But more determined would he be to take it if he knew how much she

  wanted it. Either way, ?twas lost to her.

  With a dry sob, she ran for the bed, and had just covered herself when the groom

  arrived, carried in by the few remaining household knights who had yet to depart.

  Their crude laughter and jests ended at the sight of Rowena in the bed, and it

  was Gilbert who curtly ushered them out when he noticed them ogling her. In less

  than a minute, she was left alone with her husband.

  He had been prepared for her. He wore a black bedrobe that made his skin look

  even whiter. The tie had come loose on the way to the bedchamber, and he did not

  bother to tighten it, but let it part completely with his first step forward.

  Rowena had closed her eyes briefly, but that image of his body would not leave

  her inner mind legs whittled down to mere bone, ribs protruding, sunken belly,

  and that tiny thing between his legs. She had heard it called many things, all

  denoting some monstrous weapon, but that was no weapon to strike fear into her.

  She almost laughed, but she was too close to tears. She began to pray silently,

  that she could bear this, that it would be over with quickly, that she would not

  be rendered mad when he was done with her.

  ?Well, where are you, my pretty?? he asked peevishly.

  ?I am too old to go a?hunting.?

  ?Here, my lord.?

  That he was still squinting off to the left told her he had not heard her, and

  she repeated herself in a near shout. That started him toward her, stumbling up

  the steps to reach the bed.

  ?Well? Well? What do you wait for?? he demanded in that same peevish tone,

  standing there on the top step, but making no effort to get into the bed.

  ?Can you not see my warrior requires assistance ere he will stand at attention

  for you? Come and play with him, wife.?

  That tiny thing was supposed to be a warrior? Rowena made a sound of negation in

  her throat that he did not hear. He was chuckling to himself, his eyes not

  really on her, but staring beyond the bed with a dazed look in them.

  ?I would not take it amiss were you to kiss him, my pretty,? he suggested, still

  chuckling.

  Her hand flew to her mouth as the mere thought made her gag, the bile rising to

  her throat. Just barely she swallowed it back down. If he could have seen her

  expression, he would not be laughing. But he really was near blind as well as

  deaf. And she really was going to kill Gilbert for this.

&nb
sp; ?Well? Well?? he was demanding again. His eyes began searching the bed, but even

  standing right there, he still could not find her in it.

  ?Where are you, you silly child? Must I needs call my man, John, to find you?

  You will meet him soon enough. If I do not have you breeding within the month, I

  will give you to John to have it done. I am too old to go through this again.

  You are the last, and I will have a son from you one way or another. What say

  you to that??

  Was he trying to shock her? Had she even heard him aright?

  ?What I say, my lord, is that you sound like a desperate man, unless. Do I

  understand you correctly? You would give me to this man John to get me with

  child if you cannot??

  ?Aye, I would. I have a fondness for John. I would not mind calling his son my

  own. Better that than have my brother get what is mine, a man I despise more

  than any other.?

  ?Why do you not just claim John as your own??

  ?Do not be stupid, girl. No one would believe he is mine. But it will not be

  doubted that your child is mine.?

  Would it not? The man was worse than she had thought. She was his wife, yet he

  meant to breed her just like his cows and pigs. If he could not see it done, he

  would let another, nay, insist another do it. Gilbert would not protest either,

  she realized, for he wanted the same end, a child.

  God?s mercy, did she really have to go through with this? He was so feeble and

  fleshless, she knew she could fight him off without half trying. But what would

  happen to her mother if she did? And he was her husband now. A husband was all

  powerful. Her very life was now hers by his whim alone, for if he chose to take

  it, no one would bring him to task for it.

  ?Have I made a bad bargain here?? His voice rose with the possibility.

  ?Come you here and ready me, wife, and do it now!?

  That was a direct order, not to be gainsaid, but Rowena was positive she would

  faint if she had to touch him.

  ?I cannot,? she said, loud enough so she would not have to repeat it.

  ?If you mean to take me, do so. I will not help you.?

  His face turned so furiously red, she was certain not one of his ten other wives

  had ever dared to refuse him. Would he have her beaten for doing so? ?Twas

  obvious he was not strong enough to beat her himself.

  ?Youyou?

  He got no further than that. And it looked as if his eyes were about to pop out

  of his head. His color darkened still more. He swayed on the step, one of his

  hands pressed so hard to his chest, she thought his ribs might cave in. It was

  on the tip of her tongue to say something conciliatory, merely to calm him down,

  but before she could, he swayed backward, right off the steps without a sound.

  She scrambled to the edge of the bed to look over the side. He was not moving.

  He lay there in the rushes, his hand still clutching his chest, his eyes still

  bulging. No breath moved his chest.

  Rowena continued to stare at him. Dead? Could she be that lucky? A laugh bubbled

  up in her throat, but it came out in a soft wail. What would Gilbert do now?

  This was not her fault. Was it? If she had not refused? If it was her fault, she

  exonerated herself, feeling no guilt. How could she know a little defiance would

  kill the man?

  But was he truly dead? She would not touch him to find out. Even now the thought

  of touching him was repugnant to her. But someone had to find out.

  She leaped off the bed and ran for the door, then out into the halland right

  into Gilbert?s arms.

  ?Aye/tis as I thought,? he said with marked displeasure.

  ?You intended all along to run away. But there will be none of that. You will go

  back in there and?

  ?He is dead, Gilbert!? she blurted out. His hands squeezed her arms painfully

  before he released one and dragged her back into the chamber with the other. He

  went right to the old man and bent to put his head to his chest. When he looked

  up at her, his expression was dark with fury.

  ?How did you do it??

  She stepped back from the blast of that accusation.

  ?Nay, I touched him not, and there was only your wine in the room, which he did

  not drink. He was not even in the bed yet. He clutched his chest and fell off

  the bed steps.?

  Gilbert looked back at her husband, and must have believed her. He drew the

  black robe over Lord Godwine?s body before he stood up and faced her.

  After a moment?s thought, he said ?Do not leave this room. Do not let anyone

  inside.?

  ?What are you going to do??

  ?Find you a suitable substitute. Tis imperative now that you start breeding this

  very night. Damn this black hair of mine, or I would do it.?

  Her eyes flared wide at the meaning of his last words as much as of his first.

  ?Nay. I will not?

  ?You will,? he snarled ?if you wish ever to see your mother againalive!?

  Now it was stated plainly, what she had only suspected before, and she blanched,

  not doubting at all that he meant it. But the horror of what he intended? a

  substitute!

  Desperately, she asked ?How can you even hope to perpetuate such a deception?

  The man is dead.?

  ?No one need know that until a sufficient time has passed to see you breeding.

  When you are not directly attending to that, you will stay in this chamber?

  ?With his corpse?? she gasped, taking still another step back.

  ?Nay, I will get rid of the body,? he said impatiently.

  ?When ?tis time to bury him, I will find another body to pass off as his. At any

  rate, he will be officially buried before his brother learns he is dead, and you

  will be for certain with child before the man arrives to try and wrest his due.

  But he will have naught. Godwine would have wanted it so.?

  That was likely true, but did that justify what Gilbert meant to do? And he

  sounded so confident in his new plan. But why not? Again, he had to do naught

  but sit back and wait while her body was sacrificed on this altar of deception.

  And this time her mother?s life truly depended on her compliance.

  Chapter 5

  They set upon him on his way out of the common bathing room at the inn. Five of

  them there were, dressed in the leather jerkins of men at arms, yet he doubted

  they were that. Thieves, more like. Lawlessness was prevalent in most towns that

  had a weak or absent overlord, or corrupt aldermen. And he did not know the town

  of Kirkburough, had never passed through it before. For all he knew, this could

  be another pocket of high villainy where all travelers and strangers were set

  upon and robbed, or tortured if they could not promise fat ransoms. To travel in

  Stephen?s England alone or with a small escort was to risk penury as well as

  your life.

  Truly, this had been an act of stupidity and conceit on his part, to come here

  with no more than his squire just because he wanted to beautify his appearance

  before he met his betrothed on the morrow. A bit of vanity, and look what it had

  wrought. Too long had he been confident in his reputation of swift retribution

  for any wrong done him, to keep offenders at bay. It had stood him in good stead

  for a goodly number of years, ever since he had turned his life toward vengeance
.

  But for a reputation to do any good, it had to be known, and as he did not know

  this area, neither was he known here.

  Warrick de Chaville could be forgiven his carelessness, though he would not

  forgive himself, for he was not a forgiving man. The town had looked peaceful

  and well ordered. He had a lot on his mind. He would soon be marrying for the

  third time, and he did not want this new wife to fear him as the other two had.

  He had much hope in the Lady Isabella. For nearly a year he had courted her when

  he could find the time, though that was not his way. Her father had given her to

  him at first asking, greatly desiring the match, yet Warrick had wanted Isabella?s

  consent, and would not make contract for her until he had it. Now he had it, and

  he was eager to make her his.

  Lady Isabella Malduit was not only a great beauty and much sought after, she was

  also softspoken, sweetly tempered, and had a charming sense of humor. Warrick

  wanted humor in his life. He wanted love and laughter, which had been absent

  since his family had been destroyed and naught but hate and bitterness had

  filled him. He had two daughters, but they were frivolous and self centered

  creatures. He loved them, but he could not abide them for very long with their

  bickering and pettishness. He wanted a home life like the one he had known as a

  child, that would draw him home, rather than send him eagerly into war. And he

  wanted a son.

  He did not ask for too much, no more than any man could expect. And the right

  wife could give it all to him. He had found her in Isabella. Already he was very

  fond of her. He hoped it would soon be more than that, though truthfully, he was

  not sure he was still capable of that kind of love after so many years of hate.

  But ?twas not necessary that he love his wife, only that she love him. None of

  which mattered if he was to die here this night.

  He was not even properly armed. He had left his sword and armor in the room he

  had rented, where even now Geoffrey would be cleaning it. He had come down to

  the bathing room with no more than a dagger tucked in his belt. Now he did not

  even have his clothes, for he had left them with the attending servant to be

  washed. He wore only a large bath sheet, wrapped and tucked in at the waist,

  with the short dagger stuck under the edge of it at his belly.

  Even though he was so defenseless, the five men surrounding him were hesitant at