Lindsey, Johanna - Prisoner Of My Desire

by Prisoner Of My Desire (lit)

  first to draw their swords, for Warrick de Chaville was no ordinary sized man.

  At six feet and three, he stood a half head taller than the largest assailant,

  and more still than the other four. With his arms and chest bare, there was no

  doubt at the strength contained in his large body. But more than that, he looked

  mean. There was a hard ruthlessness in his face, as if he would enjoy killing

  for the mere sport of it. And the gray eyes that had marked him as their target

  were so coldly chilling, at least one man wanted to cross himself before he drew

  his sword.

  But they did draw their swords. And the leader would have spoken, mayhap to make

  a demand instead of fighting, except Warrick was not a passive knight. He was

  aggressive in all things, and this was no exception. He clasped his dagger in

  hand and let out a war cry that very nearly shook the timbers. At the same

  instant he charged forward, slashing the man nearest him across his face. He had

  aimed for the throat, but the man?s scream did him more good in putting fear

  into the others.

  It became quickly apparent that either they were clumsy with their weapons or

  they were not trying to kill him. Well and good, that was their mistake. He

  wounded another, but then his blade began striking the steel of theirs. They had

  not meant to hurt him, but they did not intend to die either.

  And then Geoffrey joined the fray with a less thunderous battle cry, having

  heard Warrick?s. The lad was only ten and five, and not the squire Warrick would

  have taken into any battle, for he deemed him not yet ready for that. He was

  skilled with a sword, yet his body was not fully developed, giving him not much

  weight behind his blows. He had more heart and will than anything else, but also

  the mistaken assumption that he could do exactly as his lord did. He charged,

  but without the powerful body behind it, no one stepped fearfully out of his way,

  and without his armor to protect him, he was gutted before he could even get in

  a full swing.

  Warrick saw the look of disbelief and then horror that appeared on Geoffrey?s

  young face as he bent over the sword buried in his middle and knew he would be

  dead in moments. The lad had been fostered in his household since he was seven.

  Only last year Warrick had taken him under his own wing, even though he already

  had several squires and did not need another. He had developed a fondness for

  this boy who had always been so eager to please, and now he let out a bellow of

  grief filled rage just before he threw his dagger at the man who had killed

  Geoffrey. It struck true, buried to the hilt in his throat, and no sooner thrown

  than Warrick had snatched the sword right out of the hand of the man nearest him.

  He did not get to use this better weapon, however. Another sword hilt smashed

  into his skull, and he fell slowly to the floor.

  The two men who had been fortunate enough to stay out of his reach now stood

  over him panting. A full minute passed before they thought to sheathe their

  swords. One nudged Warrick with his boot, just to be sure he would not be rising.

  Blood appeared in the dark blond hair that was still wet from his bath, but he

  breathed. He was not dead and so was still of use.

  ?This man is no serf, as we were told to find,? the one man said to the other.

  ?The way he fought, he can only be a knight. Could you not tell the difference

  when you saw him enter the bathing room??

  ?Nay, he was coated in travel dust. I merely noted he wore no armor, and he had

  the right color eyes as well as the blond hair Lord Gilbert insisted on. I

  considered it fortunate that I happened to see him at all.?

  ?Gag him, then, and hope Lord Gilbert does not decide to speak to him.?

  ?What difference? Half of Lord Godwine?s knights are naught but churls. And we

  have found no other with both the right hair and the right eyes. What is he

  wanted for anyway??

  ?That is not our concern, merely do we do as told. But did you have to hit him

  so hard? Now we must carry him.?

  The other snorted.

  ?Better that than to deal with him awake again. When I first saw him, he did not

  seem so big as this. That boy, think you he was his son??

  ?Mayhap, which means he will awake fighting again. Best to bind those hands and

  feet as well. Even Lord Gilbert might have trouble subduing this one.?

  Chapter 6

  Rowena had fallen asleep at the edge of the bed, staring at the spot on the

  floor where Lord Godwine had fallen. Gilbert had removed the body himself, then

  left her alone with the repeated admonishment to let no one in the room but him.

  She would have liked to lock him out as well. If she had had a weapon, she might

  even have tried to kill him then, before he forced her to even more unspeakable

  acts. But she had no weapon. Nor could she run away without endangering her

  mother?s life. She could not even say which was worse, wedding and bedding Lyons,

  or what Gilbert planned for her now. Nay, what could be worse to a girl only

  just eight and ten than bedding that lecherous old man?

  She could feel not the least pity for his death, even though she might have been

  partwise responsible. He had likely murdered a goodly number of innocent women

  who had had the misfortune to be his wives, simply because he had tired of them

  or needed a new dowry to fill his coffers. She knew there were many unscrupulous

  men who did exactly that, and without the least guilt. But then she also knew

  there were different men, decent men, like her father. The whole world had not

  gone to hell, merely this small portion of it during this reign of anarchy.

  It was still dark, the keep still silent, when Gilbert came back to wake her.

  Rowena could not guess at the time, though the exhaustion of her body and mind

  told her she had not slept long. But Gilbert?s first words brought her wide

  awake.

  ?All is in readiness for you. My men were fortunate in their find. The hair and

  eye colors were what concerned me most, to be exactly those of your husband?s,

  for that is what is first noticed on a babe, and those we have matched.?

  Blood rushed through Rowena, hot, then cold. Her stomach muscles tightened

  almost to cramps in her fear. He had really done it, found a man to throw her to,

  just as her husband would have done if she had not conceived soon enough for him.

  Two of a kind, they were, Lyons and Gilbert, even in their thinking. She would

  not be surprised if he had found the same man, this John whom her husband would

  have used.

  God?s mercy, why would this nightmare not end?

  ?Make haste,? he continued briskly as he pulled her off the high bed.

  ?There are many hours before dawn, yet you will need ample time with the man, to

  couple more than once to assure his seed is well planted.?

  ?Why tell me?? Rowena snapped, trying to jerk her arm out of his hold as he

  rushed her toward the open door.

  ?Give your vile instructions to the stud you have found.?

  ?You will see,? was all he said.

  And she did see, almost immediately, for the man had been put in the small

  chamber directly across from hers. It contained a bed and two tall candle

  holders set on either side of i
t, but no other furnishings. It had been the room

  that her husband had used for his debaucheries with the female serfs under his

  rule, though Rowena did not know this. There were even chains attached to the

  wall above the bed, just out of sight below the mattress, though these were not

  used on the man, for he was too big. Gilbert had worried he might break those

  puny chains that had been made for females, and so had ordered long ones brought

  and strung under the bed, attaching wrist to ankle in this way so the prisoner

  could not move one limb without pulling on another.

  All Rowena noticed was that the man was there, tied down to the bed, with no

  more than a large bath sheet draped over his bare loins. Tied down? Nay, she

  noticed now the iron cuffs at his wrists, which lay above his head. And two

  chains came out from under the bath sheet at the end of the bed to curve down

  under it. Chained down! He had to be chained down? And he was asleepor senseless.

  Understanding came easily enough, but all she could think to say was ?Why did

  you not just pay him to do the deed??

  Gilbert stood next to her at the end of the bed, still holding her arm.

  ?Then he would take you. I give him to you to take instead, so you will not feel??

  He hesitated over the word long enough that she supplied it.

  ?Raped??

  He flushed.

  ?Nay. I merely thought to leave you to see to the matter in your own way. You

  would have given up your maidenhead this night either way.?

  She realized he felt he was doing her a favor. She did not see it as such, for

  in her mind, this was wrong. Tying the man down and forcing him to participate

  was even more wrong. But Gilbert saw things only one way, the way of gain and

  profit for himself. Without a child to inherit Godwine Lyons estate, everything

  would go to Lyons brother, including the large army of mercenaries that Gilbert

  desperately needed. Her stepbrother could make use of that army in the few weeks

  he meant to conceal Lyons death, but a few weeks would not be enough to gain

  back all he had lost to Fulkhurst.

  Damn that warmonger to hell, who was as bad as, if not worse than, Gilbert. If

  not for him, she would not be forced to go through with this. If not for him,

  she would not have been forced to wed in the first place.

  Having mentioned her maidenhead, Gilbert must have recalled that she was, in

  fact, merely a maiden.

  ?Do you, ah, do you know what to do? If not, I will fetch someone to assist you.

  I would do so myself, but I do not think I can bear to??

  She looked at him in amazement when he did not finish speaking.

  ?You yourself find this distasteful, yet you would still force me to do it??

  ?It must be done,? he replied, tight lipped.

  ?There is no other way to secure Kirkburough.?

  That he seemed now not to like it any better than she gave her hope.

  ?You will lie about the old man?s death,? she reminded him.

  ?You could lie about a child, too, long enough to use his armies.?

  ?And when no child is produced of the lie? Nay, this is a rich fief, the town a

  large one. I will not lose it because of your squeamishness. You will do as I

  have commanded you, Rowena. I have put him close so no one will see you come

  here each night. During the day you may sleep, for I will put it about that

  Godwine has taken ill and you nurse him, as is only proper. The servants will be

  kept away except for your own maid, who I trust will do as you instructif you

  wish to keep her.?

  More threats? Mildred expendable, too? God, how she hated him!

  ?How long, Gilbert??

  He knew exactly what she asked.

  ?Until you conceive. Do you find it so distasteful, I would suggest you avail

  yourself of his rod more than once each night. Aye, two and three times each

  night would not be difficult for this virile lout to manage, and would the

  sooner see the thing accomplished.?

  So the nightmare was not even to end with this night, but go on and on? And now

  it had become someone else?s nightmare as well, this poor man whose misfortune

  it was to have gold hair and gray eyes.

  ?You mean to keep him like this the whole time??

  ?You need not concern yourself with him,? he answered carelessly.

  ?He is no more than a serf, and will be disposed of when his usefulness is

  finished.?

  ?A serf?? At first glance she had seen the man was large, but now she looked at

  his length again and could see his feet at the end of the bed, his head far up

  at the other end.

  ?He is too big to be a serf. What have you done, Gilbert, stolen a freeman??

  ?Nay, some lord?s by blow, mayhap, but no more than that,? he said confidently.

  ?If a lord had come to Kirkburough, he would have presented himself at the keep

  to pass the night at no cost to himself, not stayed in the town. Even a lowly,

  landless knight would have sought the companionship of his kind and come to the

  hall. A freeman he might be, however, but still no one of import, mayhap no more

  than a pilgrim.?

  ?But you mean to kill him??

  The question caught her stepbrother off guard, and he snapped impatiently ?Do

  not be stupid. He cannot be left alive to lay claim to the child when we are

  done with him. No one would believe him, yet it might cause rumors, rumors that

  Godwine?s brother would leap upon.?

  So even if she did exactly as Gilbert wanted, someone was still to die. That

  knowledge released the anger at the injustice of it all that her fear had been

  holding in abeyance.

  ?God rot you, Gilbert, and your cursed greed,? she swore softly as she jerked

  her arm away from him. His surprised expression, as if he could not imagine what

  he had done wrong, was the breaking point for her, and her voice and fury rose

  to a shout.

  ?Get out! I need no help to rape this man. But send Mildred to me, for I may

  need help to revive him. Little purpose he serves as he is.?

  It was her anger and bitterness that made her speak so, but those shouted words

  were what Warrick heard as he regained his senses. He did not open his eyes. He

  had been a man of war too long to give away such an advantage. But this time it

  availed him naught, for no more was said, and a moment later, a door was slammed

  shut.

  Silence. He was alone for the moment, but that screeching female would likely be

  back soon if her wordsnay, he could not credit those words. Females did not rape.

  How could they when they had not the proper parts? And she could not have meant

  him, in any case. A jest, then, from a crude wench. No more than that. But as

  long as he was alone?

  He opened his eyes on a view of the ceiling. The room was well lit, the glow of

  candles on either side of him just discerned without his moving. He turned his

  head to find the door, and pain sliced through it. He stilled for a moment,

  closing his eyesand became aware of things without seeing. He was lying in a

  soft bed. A gag pulled at his lips. He was as he had been when he was taken,

  without his clothes. That did not alarm him. There was no reason to dress him

  when he could do it himself once he was awake. The bed? Better than a dungeon,

  he supposed.

  And
then he felt the manacles on his wrists. He tried to move one and heard the

  chain rattle and felt the tug and scrape on his ankle. God?s blood, bound to

  himself, and with chain, not rope!

  If it was ransom they wanted, then they knew who he was and were risking his

  vengeance, which was always swift. Thieves and outlaws, however, took anyone for

  whatever they could get. They did not care if they captured knight or merchant,

  lady or fishwife, and torture of one kind or another was swift to come if they

  did not get what they wanted. He had taken the keep of a robber baron once, and

  even he had been sickened by what he had found in the man?s dungeonbodies that

  had been slowly crushed under heavy stone, naked bodies hung by their thumbs

  with smoke blackened skin, some with feet nearly burned off, all dead because

  they had simply been forgotten by their tormentors once he had laid siege to the

  keep. And this was no mean hut or forest floor, nor even the inn where he had

  been taken. Stone walls meant a keep. A petty lord, then, and just as bad as a

  petty thief.

  Warrick opened his eyes again, ready to ignore the pain in his head to see what

  he could of his soft prison. He lifted his head and saw her there at the foot of

  his bedand decided he had died, for that could only be one of God?s angels, made

  perfect in the afterlife.

  Chapter 7

  Rowena was still glaring at the door that had closed on Gilbert when she heard

  the chains creak and looked back at the man on the bed. His eyes were shut, he

  lay perfectly still, but she sensed instinctively that he was now awake. She had

  not looked at him closely before, had not seen him as much more than a male body,

  a large male body. He lay flat on his back without a pillow, while she stood

  several feet beyond a mattress that was as high as her waist. She still could

  not tell much about him from this position. Then his head lifted, his eyes

  riveted her to the spot, and she stood perfectly still, forgetting even to

  breathe.

  The gray of his eyes was more silver, soft and luminous in his surprise. Even

  with the gag dividing his face, she could tell it was a handsome fece, the

  features well defined andarrogant.

  What made her think that? The broadness of his cheekbones? That hawklike nose?