Читать книгу Vow of Seduction - Angela Johnson - Страница 12

Kat whirled around, her gray eyes narrowed with suspicion. Alex was pleased to catch her speechless. He had barely choked out the word, and his stomach roiled with nausea. But it was too late to turn back now.

“If this is your idea of a jest, Alex, I don’t find it amusing,” she said finally, scowling.

“Nay. I have never been more serious. I shall seek an annulment with the Pope, if you agree to abide by certain conditions.”

“Even if it were possible—”

“’Tis definitely possible. We could get our marriage annulled on grounds of non-consummation due to impotency or frigidity. The fact that our bloody bridal sheet was never displayed gave me the idea. It would give credence to the claim, should you be willing to testify that we never consummated our marriage.”

Sunlight dappled her bold straight nose and cheekbones like gold dust. “You have my attention. What are these conditions you mentioned?”

“Firstly, you shall give me three months to court you and prove my worthiness. Secondly, you must spend time in my company, at my pleasure, whenever you are free from your duties to Queen Eleanor. And lastly, but most importantly, you will not find ways to avoid me and will seriously consider my suit.”

Kat crossed her arms under her breasts, the feathery leaves swaying behind her. “And how do I benefit from this bargain, should I choose to accept?”

“At the end of three months, if you still wish to end our marriage, I will seek an annulment with the Pope. As long as you don’t contest it, the annulment should be granted. Not only would your dowry estate, Montclair, return to you, but you could also marry again in one year…if that is your wish.” Alex bit his tongue, tasting blood.

“You would do that for me, Alex? Declare yourself impotent? Why?” Distrust shadowed her almond-shaped eyes.

“I have told you why. I want you, Kat. But I want all of you, body, heart, and soul. I shall not settle for less. This time you will have a choice whether you want me as husband or not.”

It was a risky gamble. Alex knew Kat would use all the tricks at her disposal to keep distance between them. As lady to Queen Eleanor, Kat could immerse herself in doing the queen’s bidding and ignore him completely. He could woo her as relentlessly as he wished, but with an absent bride, success would be highly unlikely. And more importantly, perhaps, courtship of a hostile Kat was not in his best interests. Or conducive to my good health.

“But you would never be able to remarry or sire an heir for Briand.” Alex longed to smooth the worry lines from her forehead as she gazed uncertainly up at him, her exotic flowery scent a potent allure.

“My brother, Brian, is growing into a fine young man. Should it come to that, he can sire heirs for Briand.”

A shout from the river reminded Alex of his mission.

“Come, walk with me to the river stairs.” Giving her no opportunity to decline, he took her hand and put it in the crook of his elbow, then led her out from under the concealing willow. “You need time to think about my offer, and I have business in London town. You can give me your decision when I return.”

A breeze from the southeast blew in from the river and caught strands of Kat’s hair. They wrapped around his neck like a possessive lover, undulating around him softly, arousing him with their scent and silky texture. But Kat remained oblivious of her runaway hair and his ultimate torture. Then quite suddenly, another breeze unwound the silken tie from his neck.

Disappointed and relieved at the same time, Alex looked down at the woman beside him as they strolled along the river in silence. His gut clenched at the sight of her loveliness. Though young, she exuded an innate sensuality that beckoned him like a houri to take her and claim her as his. But by his very bargain, he might lose the right to do so. He just prayed his gamble would succeed.

Kat, meanwhile, was still reeling from Alex’s unexpected proposal. She relaxed her grip on his arm. The muscles of his upper arm were surprisingly big and firm. Without volition, Kat squeezed the bulging flesh, testing it. His muscles flexed in reaction, and although he did not stop walking, he raised an inquiring brow in askance.

Kat blushed with embarrassment, cursing her momentary weakness. She covered up her mortification with a comment. “You say you spent four years in a Saracen prison before you escaped. Yet you appear strong of limb and muscle. I find it odd, is all.”

Alex pulled her to an abrupt stop. Surprised, Kat swung her gaze to him. Staring down at her, his blue gaze grew heated and his sensual lips curved in a wicked grin. The combination singed her blood and sent butterflies scurrying to life in her belly.

“‘Strong of limb and muscle’ you say.” His voice deepened. “As you have explored for yourself, you know my arms are strong, but how can you be positive all of me is as well? Unless…Would you care to examine the rest of my muscles as you did my arm? Just to be certain?”

Kat’s lips pinched tight at his irreverent wit. “Fine. Answer me not. ’Tis of no import to me.”

Alex straightened and started walking again. When he spoke his voice was devoid of emotion. “The fortress where I was held was a work camp. We toiled away every day, hauling heavy stone blocks quarried from a defensive ditch around the castle walls.”

Kat saw the river landing up ahead even as she marveled at the horrors Alex must have suffered, the frustration he no doubt had felt knowing he had the means to obtain his release but unable to convince his Saracen gaolers. The experience had changed him, made him harder, more ruthless, no longer the charming, carefree young man she married.

Her ears heated as outrage consumed her. She hoped the bastard who had sent Alex to a living hell was dead!

“Do you know who attacked you?”

Alex tensed beside her, but then immediately relaxed. “Nay. I didn’t see who knocked me out. I have learned it happened the same night an assassin stabbed Edward with a poisoned dagger. I think it most likely the two incidents were related.”

Willow trees and tall grasses lined the west bank along the river landing. A flat-bottomed barge, rowed by several men, came alongside the embankment and bumped up against the stone stairs. The pole man stepped out, moored the boat, and then waited near the landing to carry his passenger down the Thames. Kat inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Alex would depart shortly and free her of his troubling presence for the rest of the day.

The pungent odor of the river wafted on the mild breeze. A section of her hair that had come free fluttered across her face, tickling her cheek. Kat pushed the wisp of hair behind her ear and stopped.

“I shall bid you good day, Alex.”

He turned to her. His big warm hands clasped hers gently. A callused thumb stroked her fingers. Then suddenly, Alex’s right hand tightened on hers. Clutching her fingers, he raised her left hand and stared down at it in an oddly tense silence. “Where is your wedding ring?” he asked, his eyes dark with anger.

Kat tugged her hand to free it. “What concern is it of yours?” she snapped.

Alex tugged back. “Because you are my wife!”

She kept her voice lowered and hissed. “Nay. You never wanted me for your wife. You made your wishes clear on that score the day you left me. I took off the ring then and have not worn it since.” Kat raised her chin defiantly. “I saw no reason to be shackled by a symbol that proclaimed me your wife when you had no intention of fulfilling your vows.”

Alex tugged again and unprepared, Kat stumbled against him, her arms caught against his hard chest. “But there you are wrong, wife. I aim to fulfill my vows, in every way,” his voice rumbled in a seductive purr. He pulled their bodies flush before his lips swooped down on hers.

His kiss was not forceful or demanding, otherwise she could have resisted his advance. Instead, his soft lips molded hers in a gentle caress, coaxing her lips apart. Her mouth melted and he took stealthy advantage. His tongue entered the warm cave of her mouth, giving Kat a brief taste of wine and honey, before retreating.

One large hand branded her left bottom cheek. He thrust the hot, hard ridge of his shaft against her stomach, a silent warning, and a relentless promise. Wet heat pooled between her thighs, drawing a moan from her lips. Then it was over. Alex stepped back, his hands holding her upright. Kat stared down; her fingers clutched his azure tunic, crumpling the material.

Gasping, she released him. “How dare you! I did not give you leave to trespass upon my person,” she accused Alex, though her anger was turned inward at her own weakness.

Alex stiffened. “I beg to differ. You cannot trespass upon the willing, madame.”

After bowing mockingly, Alex turned and made his way to the waiting craft. He jumped in the boat and called out before it moved away from the stairs. “Think about that, my wife, while I’m gone this day. I shall return in time to change for supper.”

When Alex’s barge pushed away from the bank, Kat turned and flounced away from the river. She had no idea where she headed, walking willy-nilly as she replayed every word of their conversation in her head.

Kat groaned. She had behaved like a wanton, melting in his arms with just one brush of his sensual lips. She could no longer lie to herself. A traitorous part of her still yearned for his touch. Her heart raced with fear. If she were not very careful, Alex might succeed at slowly chipping away at her resolve to resist him. She did not doubt that he would besiege her until she surrendered her heart and soul, leaving only a ruined shell behind.

Deep in thought, her brow puckered in concentration, she did not at first hear the muffled curses and shouts. A boy’s cry pierced the air.

Kat looked around, bewildered. She stood in the middle of Lousmede, surrounded by a sea of grass and cuckoo flowers, their pale lilac petals bobbing in the breeze. Behind her to the southeast lay Westminster Palace, up ahead was an abandoned apple orchard not far from the leper hospital of St. James.

She cocked her head. A sharp cry pierced her heart, followed by answering shouts and laughter coming from the orchard. She reacted without thinking. Hoisting the wet hem of her tunics to her knees, she crashed into the trees towards the sound of that pitiful wail.

The orchard was deserted, its neglect revealed by the weeds and green shoots of new growth allowed to grow wild along with the rotten apples littering the ground. It appeared forlorn as nature’s bounty fought to grab hold and reclaim this forgotten, once fruitful Eden. Dashing down several rows of trees, Kat veered to the left when she spotted a splash of color in the otherwise barren orchard.

A small boy about seven summers old was perched in a tree, trying bravely to cling onto the limb as a rotten apple pelted him. His dark head peeped out amid the flowering branches. Four boys of varying ages, all older than the lad, stood below harassing him. They were all dressed in the king’s livery.

The oldest boy, about twelve, blond-haired and apparently the leader, hollered, “Come on down, Matthew. If I have to come up and drag you down—” he left his sentence hanging, making his threat that much more ominous.

The others jeered and called him a coward. But the lad ignored them and sat in stoic silence.

Kat hated bullies, no matter their age. When a child, she had been taunted and scorned for being different one too many times. The black-haired lad in the tree, smaller and outnumbered, had no way to defend himself.

She moved stealthily closer until she had a view of the whole scene. Upon closer inspection, she recognized the blond-haired leader, knew who his father was. In this case, it was indeed true that the proverbial apple never fell far from the tree. Lord Calvert, the boy’s father, was a minor baron from the north, a petty and cruel man.

The older bully, his threats exhausted, began to climb up the tree. Kat reacted without forethought. She removed the dagger from inside her boot in one smooth movement—metal hissed as the blade scraped the sheath. With his arms and legs wrapped around the tree, the blond boy shimmied up and reached for the lower branch. A thud sounded in the ensuing silence, the embedded blade quivering in the branch just inches above the lad’s outstretched hand.

Crying out, he lost his grip and plummeted to the earth. He hit the ground with a loud thump, and a wail issued from his lips. His comrades yelped startled exclamations, turning to find the source of danger. Into this chaos, Kat strode boldly to the lad lying on the ground. The other boys scattered, their fallen friend left to fend for himself.

Kat removed the dagger from the tree. She looked up and met Matthew’s wide-eyed gaze. “’Tis safe to come down, Matthew. No one can hurt you now.”

“You are a girl!” the boy’s voice floated down to her.

Kat laughed and returned her trusty blade to her boot. “Aye, the good Lord saw fit to make me so.”

He swiped an arm across his nose and swallowed. “But how did you learn to throw a blade like that?”

“I would tell you, but it is difficult to converse with one in a tree. ’Tis hard on the neck, you see.”

A black lock of hair fell on Matthew’s forehead as his gaze shifted to the boy moaning at her feet. Then he turned and clambered down the tree like a monkey Kat had seen in the royal menagerie at the Tower of London.

“Who are you?” he asked when he reached the ground.

“I am Lady Katherine de Beaumont. But you may call me Kat. All my special friends do.”

He smudged his toe in the dirt under the tree and looked up at her shyly. “I thank you, Kat. And I am Matthew of Oxford.”

Kat smiled at him, and then knelt beside the injured boy to check his arm for broken bones. He cringed and tried to scuttle away. “I do not intend to harm you. Now let me see your wrist so I can determine the extent of your injury.”

Not waiting for his assent, Kat grabbed hold of his arm and gently probed the wrist in question. As she thought, there were no broken bones, only a swollenness that indicated a mild sprain.

Looking into the boy’s sullen black eyes, Kat admonished him. “You are most fortunate. ’Tis only sprained. I would recommend you find more honorable activities to pass your time in future. A word of advice—there is always going to be someone bigger and stronger than you. Let this be a lesson to you, although I doubt you will pay me heed. Now go, you are no doubt neglecting your duties.”

The blond boy scrambled to his feet, scowling as he backed away. “I shall tell my father of your deeds this day. He is bigger than even you. He will make you pay for daring to harm me,” he spouted boastfully, then threw a hate-filled glance at Matthew and fled.

Matthew looked at her with a worried frown. “He is trouble. Can his father really harm you?”

“Don’t worry, Matthew. His father is a cowardly bully, just like him. And I can take care of myself. Besides, my husband is a powerful man and Lord Calvert would not dare cross him.”

“Would you teach me to throw a knife like you do?”

The sudden change in topic was understandable given the circumstances. He wished to be able to protect himself, so he would feel less vulnerable. Kat sympathized with his ambition, but he was a bit young to be wielding such a dangerous object. Still, there was a way she could help him and give him a safe haven from those who would torment him.

“You are too young yet. Knifes are very dangerous and should be used with great care. Some day, when you are older, you will be trained as a squire and will learn all there is to know about handling weapons. But there is something I would like to show you instead.”

“What is it?” Matthew asked, his warm brown eyes intrigued.

“I cannot say. ’Tis something you must see for yourself.”

His eyes sparkled with excitement and he nodded his acceptance. Kat turned back towards the river with Matthew. When his small hand slipped trustingly into hers, Kat’s soft heart thumped with happiness. She longed to have children of her own someday. It was the main reason she had decided to accept Luc’s offer of marriage.

Whether boys or girls, she would love them equally. Though her parents had loved her, their endless attempts to sire a male heir, despite numerous miscarriages, finally resulted in her mother’s death. Because her mother preferred death to accepting the female child she bore her husband, Kat had felt inadequate and unworthy of love.

That was why Alex’s rejection had been so hurtful. Was it wrong to want to be loved unconditionally?

Children were loving and trusting, their needs so simple, and their love unconditional. She had much love to give. And with a child to love and to love her in return, she would finally have the acceptance she desperately craved.

“This is the stable,” Matthew said in surprise.

“Aye. There is a friend of mine I want you to meet.”

They entered the large stable, the wide-aisled structure cool in the shadows. The familiar smells of saddle leather, hay, and horses that Kat loved filled her nostrils while her eyes adjusted to the dimmed interior. Thirty stalls lined each side of the long pillared building, only a third of them with occupants. Apparently, the king was out hunting with his court, one of his favorite pastimes.

A familiar whinny drew Kat down the aisle to an occupied stall. Behind her, Kat heard Matthew whisper in awe, “He’s a beauty.”

Opening the wooden door to the stall, Kat chuckled. “He is a she, and her name is Lightning.” Patting her palfrey’s muzzle affectionately, Kat crooned, “Aye, my lovely lady, you are without compare. And please forgive Matthew, he meant no offense by mistaking you for a male.” The mare was steel gray with a black mane and tail, but in the sunshine she took on a silvery hue.

Matthew hovered outside the stall, his eyes filled with awe and a little trepidation. “Is this your horse?”

“Aye, and my best friend. Come on in, Matthew. Grab that stool as you do.”

When Matthew hesitated, Kat coaxed him in a soothing voice she used to calm her mare. “Lightning is a very special horse. Gentle, too. She was a bride gift from my father-in-law. You need not fear her.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said quickly, and bravely entered to stand beside her.

She took the stool from his hand and set it on the hay-covered floor. Lightning bent her head and nudged Kat with her nose. Matthew laughed, an infectious giggle that warmed her heart.

“Climb up on the stool, Matthew, so you can reach her.” He obeyed immediately and Kat showed him how Lightning liked to be petted.

Matthew had a charming dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. “She is so warm and soft,” he said, stroking the gray mare’s chest. His eyes sparkled and Kat was glad she had helped him forget his cares for a while.

“Whenever I am troubled, Matthew, or need to get away from my worries, I come here. Just being with Lightning makes me feel better straight away.”

“You are lucky to have such a friend,” Matthew whispered, his face averted.

The statement verified what Kat had already suspected, and she blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. She well remembered the loneliness of her own childhood. Children were sometimes cruel and, as a child, she was teased and tortured for her mannish behavior. She was stronger for it, but that did not make the hurt any less.

“I want you to consider Lightning your friend, too. You may come and visit her in her stall whenever you want, whenever you need to be alone. Do you understand what I mean, Matthew?”

His brown eyes grew wide and filled with understanding. “I would like that above all things.”

“Good.” At that moment, Lightning whinnied and shook her head. Kat patted her in acknowledgement, lavishing her with attention. Beside the mare, Matthew wrapped his small arms around the warm horseflesh and laid his cheek along Lightning’s neck.

Kat had not lied to Matthew earlier. Whenever distressed, she sought the company of her horse. And Alex’s return certainly qualified as distressing. She had a very important decision to make whether to accept the devil’s bargain.

After removing a curry brush from the back wall, she showed Matthew how to groom the gray mare. As she did, her troubles seemed to slough away like horsehair from Lightning’s back. A sense of peace filled her. Even so, quietly and insidiously, one thought resounded in the back of her mind: ’tis merely the calm before the storm.