by K. E. Saxon
This had gone far enough. She whirled around with the gown fisted in her hand and stormed into the front chamber. “I’ll not wear this to supper with your family, ’tis unseemly!”
He laughed for the first time since they’d wed. A real, honest, joyful laugh that reached his eyes and reminded her of his old self. “Nay, you shall not!” He sobered and the anger came into his eyes again. “But you shall wear it for your master.”
Oh, God. She took the gown back into her bedchamber and felt proud of herself when she closed the door a bit louder than she normally did. Just wanting to get through whatever bitter, resentful game he’d planned for her, she quickly doffed her gray gown and cotton chemise and replaced them with the gossamer pale-rose colored chemise and ruby gown. She kept her muddy boots on and walked back into the front chamber. “What would you like from me now, m’lord?” She had yet to call him ‘master’ as he’d demanded repeatedly she do in privy. ‘Twas a small rebellion, and one that he clearly believed not worth the trouble of punishing her for, so she’d continued it with a secret pleasure.
“Come here, slave. Show me what hangs so coarsely around that white neck of yours.”
The coin! The coin her Bao, the real Bao, had given her last summer. Why had she not remembered to take it off! With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she stumbled forward and drew the leather thong from around her neck. “I believe this is yours,” she said with a note of sadness, holding it out to him.
He fingered the gold piece as if it were the made of the finest silk. “My mother’s last treasure,” he said, his voice, far away. But when his gaze lifted, it snapped and spit daggers at her again. “If I’d only known to whom I’d bestowed this gift, I’d never have done it. ‘Twas a mockery of my mother’s memory.”
“Please, Bao. Tell me what it is you think I’ve done—what have I done to deserve so much censure from you? What?”
“Ask your brother.”
That gave her pause. “He’s dead. I told you.”
“Then I suppose ‘twill be for you to puzzle out, will it not?” A gleam lit his eye. “Come closer.”
Her pulse raced. “Why?”
“Come closer.”
She took a step toward him. They were a mere few inches from each other now and she could feel the waves of heat flowing from him and moving over her skin. He trailed his finger along the neckline of her chemise and she jumped. In spite of her belief that she held no warm feelings for this twisted version of Bao, her skin tingled and burned where he touched her. And when the digit did a slow glide over the mound of her breast, circled its peak, her center melted, her breath caught.
He bent and slid his tongue over her lower lip. “Remember me tonight while I’m between my lover’s thighs,” he murmured and then he left. Left her standing, stupefied and unsatisfied, in the center of the front chamber of her cottage.
After a moment, she stomped her feet, yelling, “Ahhh! I hate you!” then flew into her chamber and threw herself across her bed. Stuffing her pillow into her mouth, she screamed for all she was worth.
* * *
Bao heard the angry outburst and grinned in spite of his pique. ‘Twas good to finally get a rise out of her after all these days. But for now, a long, icy dip at the waterfall should cool his raging lust for her. Certainly fucking other women wasn’t the answer. His body hadn’t cooperated in that endeavor since his first and only taste of her. His one and only attempt to service a client back in Perth after returning had ended in disgrace for him and recriminations from the lady.
And what he was going to do to kill the vestiges of tenderness he still felt for Jesslyn, he had no clue. His anger was working against him. Where he’d thought to humiliate, he’d only succeeded in raising his own need. And Jesslyn’s calm compliance had been like steel talons shredding his insides. ‘Twas too much as his mother had been with his father—and that made Bao’s stomach churn. He wanted her to know what it was to be under another’s control—to have pride, but to be punished for asserting it. He wanted her to feel remorse for what her greed had wrought. He never wanted to break her spirit completely.
Besides, this anger, this bitterness, couldn’t go on much longer. Even with the role she’d played in his mother’s downfall, he couldn’t live with her day after day and continue the acrimony. For one thing, she carried his child, and that child deserved a—if not loving home—a home with no rancor. And so did Alleck. Alleck had asked repeatedly for them to come back to the keep. He wanted them close by. And Bao was having a harder and harder time coming up with excuses why that could not be.
But something in him couldn’t let go of the need to punish her. Not yet. So, with a sigh of resignation he headed toward the waterfall.
* * *
A bit over a sennight later, Daniel detained Bao in the great hall after the rest of the family retired for the evening. “What the hell is going on between you and Jesslyn?”
Bao crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Why is this your business?”
“She’s the widow of my best friend, and I swore to protect her.”
“She’s my wife, not his widow.”
“Aye, and I haven’t seen one smile reach her eyes in the days since you made her such.” His gaze narrowed on Bao. “And now that I think on it, I’ve not seen such from you, either.”
Bao shrugged.
“Branwenn believes you’re much changed from the man she’s known all her life. She sees more anger in you, a sharpness of tongue that wasn’t there before and worries that you are flaying Jesslyn with it.”
“What’s between Jesslyn and me will remain between Jesslyn and me.”
“Not if I banish you from the keep.”
“She’ll go with me.”
“Nay, she’ll not. Both she and Alleck are my responsibility and I’ll not stand silent while they are hurt.”
Bao growled and leapt on Daniel. They both fell to the floor and Bao held Daniel down with his arm over Daniel’s throat. “Do not threaten me, brother, else you’ll feel the full measure of my wrath.”
Daniel kneed him in the groin and Bao rolled off of him. “You fight like a lass,” Bao wheezed.
“Either tell me what’s going on or leave—and one more attack like that and I’ll call the guards. You’ll be out without horse or weapon.”
Bao rolled to his side and lay there unmoving for a minute or two more, waiting for the stars to clear and the searing pain to recede.
He heard the sound of his brother’s footsteps as he walked over to the buttery, heard the familiar sound of liquid pouring into metal cups, and finally Daniel’s footsteps coming toward him once more. Bao felt him standing over him and cracked an eye open. “All right. I’ll tell you.”
* * *
“After the Constable’s words to me,” Bao said a few minutes later, “I found and spoke with several knights—all of them squires at the time—who’d made the journey with Malcolm to fight the infidels in the holy land. They confirmed that he’d left his post and become a slave trader. Evidently, ‘twas a much more profitable venture.” Bao’s hands fisted at his sides. “My suspicion—my curiosity—was heightened, and I couldn’t rest until I knew whether ‘twas him that sold my mother to our father.”
“And was it?”
“Aye. Malcolm MacGorie used thieves to fill his slave cages. This was unusual, as most slaves are spoils of war. All knew it, and all knew how he obtained his prizes, but still it was allowed. My mother’s capture had been a boon to Malcolm, for she’d been a relative to royalty and worth a much higher price on the slave block.”
Daniel nodded, rubbing his finger across his lower lip as he gazed at the fire crackling in the hearth. “That would have been early on, mayhap as early as 1177 or 78, which is five or six years prior to Jesslyn’s birth—tell me why you blame her for this.”
“Because she profited from my mother’s and others’ misfortune!”
“But, if she did not know, how is she culpable?”
/>
“Ahh, but she did.”
“Why has she never said such to me? She’s only spoken of him as her brave brother, a knight fighting for God in the holy land against the infidels.”
“I know not. But ‘tis truth. I’ve got a missive from the brother which proves it.”
“Show it to me.”
Bao reached into the pouch on his belt.
“You carry it with you?”
“Aye, I’m never without it. I look at it whenever I feel myself mellowing in my anger toward her.” He handed the small scroll to his brother. As Daniel untied the ribbon, Bao said, “The knight who gave this to me lost both legs in battle, so was never able to deliver it. When he learned that I knew the family and was asking questions about the brother, he contacted me and gave me this. Malcolm had paid a scribe to write it out for him.”
He watched his brother’s eyes scan the page. “Hmm. Well you are right, Malcolm makes it plain that he’s obtaining his coin from selling slaves. But…nay, this is not to Jesslyn.”
“Aye, it is. See? It says, ‘To my dear sister’ and then it speaks of her husband Graeme.”
“Aye, but ‘tis dated in the year prior to Jesslyn’s marriage to Graham. This missive is to his other sister—Janet.”
Bao’s heart plummeted into his stomach and his jaw dropped open. “Jesslyn’s sister was wed to Graeme first?”
“Aye, but that’s a tale I’ll leave for Jesslyn to tell—if she chooses. For now, just know this: you’ve built a grudge for the wrong sister. And I know Jesslyn, if she’d had any knowledge of her brother’s activities, she would not have lied about it—to me at least.”
“Aye, but would she still have accepted the gifts with as much zeal as her sister who did know?”
“She’ll do what she must for the welfare of her family, but only for pleasure? Nay. Nay, she would not.” Daniel handed the scroll back to him.
“I’ll leave you now,” Bao said. “You’ve given me much to think on.”
* * *
The front chamber of the cottage was quiet and dark but for the orange and yellow glow of embers coming from the hearth. Bao closed the door with little sound and, on silent tread, made his way toward Jesslyn’s bedchamber, his purpose: to gain her forgiveness and to regain her trust. But he must somehow do so without telling her of her brother’s perfidy. To hurt her again, after all that he’d already done these past days, was more than cruel, more than he was willing to do.
The moonlight streaming in through the opened shutter slats played over her flaxen hair like silver starshine. She lay on her back with one arm arced over her head and the other resting across her abdomen. The blanket had slipped down, revealing her full, naked breasts and Bao’s pulse raced. His mouth watered. His manhood came to attention. His fists clenched. His throat worked.
He took the last step to the bed and succumbed to his desire.
* * *
Jesslyn dreamed that a hot, humid mouth clamped her nipple and that the much-remembered strum of a broad finger set fire to her center. “Mmm.” She widened her thighs and the finger entered her and began to stroke.
“You’re so narrow, love. So wet.”
Jesslyn jerked awake. “Get off of me!” But suddenly recalling his threat, she said, “Or is this now part of the bargain as well? My body in exchange for not leaving my son?”
“Jesslyn…oh, God, Jesslyn. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’ll do whatever penance you require. I admit, this might not have been the best way to go about it, but I want us to be wed in truth, and I wanted to show you just how much I wanted us to be such.”
She rolled on her side, turning her back to him. “And what, pray, were you wrong about, Bao?”
“You. I will not tell you the whole of it for I’m done with hurting you. Just know that I’ve discovered my error and am set to do whatever it takes to win your friendship, be wed to you in truth.”
“We are wed in truth, and as you told me the day of our wedding, there’s naught to be done about it, but if you mean what you say, then I see no other course but to try to get along. I want my son back with me.”
“We shall move into our quarters in the keep on the morrow.”
“I’ll not bed you.”
She heard him sigh and then he said, “I understand. You need more time.”
Aye, and more proof that he’d not turn into the angry devil again, defile their vows by continuing to sleep with others.
* * *
CHAPTER 6
The next day Jesslyn decided to test Bao’s commitment to his promise of the night before. While Bao still slept in Alleck’s chamber, Jesslyn stealthily made her way to his sword and lifted it. She emitted a soft grunt. It weighed more than she’d expected, but was not so heavy that she couldn’t carry it. With slow, steady steps, she walked out of the chamber and toward the door to the cottage. As she quietly opened it, she only allowed herself one quick look back before departing.
She’d already set up most of the scene earlier. She’d strategically placed several mauled-looking pieces of chopped firewood next to the chopping block and hidden the ax. Now, she would wait. She sat down on the block of wood and looked in the direction from which Bao would arrive. She’d asked her son’s friend Niall to relay a message to Bao that she requested his presence by the wood stack. There was no way he was going to pass this trial. No way on this earth. And then she’d know for all time that she could never trust him again.
Jesslyn didn’t have to wait more than a quarter hour for Bao. She was first made aware of his immanent arrival by the sound of his whistling. Leaping to her feet, she grabbed the weapon and placed a piece of wood on the block. She lifted the sword high above her head with both hands around the hilt and waited for him to turn the corner before she let the blade drop.
“What the hell are you doing!” He sprinted over to her and yanked the sword from her grasp. He examined it, running his fingers along the flat edge of the blade, looking for nicks, she presumed.
“I’m chopping a few more pieces of wood for my cookfire,” she said innocently. “I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t find the ax anywhere and I needed more to heat the fire. I’m making berry tarts—your favorite!—and peat ruins their taste.”
His gaze settled on her middle. “You shouldn’t be chopping wood,” he said, a note of concern in his voice. “‘Tis too much exertion for your delicate condition.”
“Oh, I’m quite used to such work, I assure you. ‘Tis really not difficult at all, at least not with the right tool.”
* * *
Bao gave his sword another quick examination. Seeing no damage had been done to the blade, he looked again at the chopped wood on the ground and a suspicion began to form. Was this a bit of retribution on Jesslyn’s part? Since the blade was still in the condition he’d last left it in, he assumed she only meant to pique his anger. But she would be disappointed. For whatever she demanded of him to get back in her good graces, he would do. Handing her the sword, he said, “If you’ll show me that you can do this without straining yourself or the babe, I shall not say another word against it.” He cringed inside at the thought of her damaging his weapon, but she was a much more precious prize to him than his sword would ever be.
Clearly confounded, she slowly grasped the hilt in her hands and studied his face. A mischievous light came into her cerulean blue gaze that told Bao that she was not finished testing him. She turned and lifted the weapon over her head once again and when she brought it down, she brought it down hard against the wood, making a terrible splintering sound as the blade entered the piece.
Bao gritted his teeth, but managed to keep from groaning aloud.
She strained to pull it out, but could not.
With a long stride, Bao stepped up to the chopping block and, taking hold of the hilt, released his sword from its prison. With eyes focused away from the blade’s edge, he handed the sword back to Jesslyn, saying, “‘Twas not quite hard enough, sweet. You’ll need to put more force
behind it next time.”
* * *
A tremor ran down Jesslyn’s spine at the warm timbre of Bao’s voice when he used that endearment for her. She couldn’t bring herself to truly ruin Bao’s weapon. Not only because of its value,—its worth was enough to keep them in luxury for a year—but because it held meaning for Bao in other ways as well. She took a close look at the blade’s edge, running her fingers along it the way she’d seen Bao do moments before. Luckily, she’d put no chips in it. But it did need a good polishing now, she could tell. Biting her lip, she handed the weapon back to him. “I’ve changed my mind. I find I’m too weary to do such work. I shall do as you said and refrain from such activity until after my babe is born.”
Bao nodded. “Good. And I hope that means you will not do any other work that requires heavy lifting until our babe has arrived.”
Jesslyn nodded and the ice around her heart melted a little more. This was the Bao she’d known last summer. But for how long? She still had no idea what she’d done to set him against her—or, more precisely, what he’d believed she’d done—and that alone sparked fear in her heart that he’d change again without notice into the beast she’d wed over a fortnight past. And what of his woodland lover? At one and the same time, she wanted not to care and cared much more than she should.
“Let us go back to the cottage and break our fast. The babe is surely hungry by now,” he said. Jesslyn stiffened but allowed Bao to settle her hand in the crook of his arm as they walked the distance to her home.
* * *
Not long afterward, Bao sat at the table as Jesslyn quietly prepared their meal. He reveled in her lithe grace as she walked over to the hearth, lifted the lid on the pottage and took a whiff. Then, setting the lid to the side, she turned and took a rounded loaf of day-old bread from the basket and sliced it in half before she cut the center from it and made trenchers for their meal. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was? He watched her as she scooped the pottage into the trenchers and placed them on the table.
