Sword for His Lady (16 page)

“Aye, true trust takes more time to grow.” Ramon drew back, hooking his hands into his sword belt. His expression was tight, his dark eyes stormy. “I suppose I will win none of your favor if I say you should be content with the place the law says is yours in a marriage, either.”

Surprise flared through her. “You…agree?”

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Nay, for I would have the blessing of the church so I may claim you. Yet I understand your argument.”

“Understand?” she asked incredulously. “Men and women do not understand one another. We are as different as the sun and moon.”

His lips twitched, rising into a small grin that banished some of the sternness from his visage.

“Aye. Yet you are not alone in feeling the weight of injustice on your shoulders.” He nodded. “I see Jacques Raeburn flying a baron's pennant, the same honor I earned. I do not care to know it was my king who belittled what he bestowed on me by selling that same honor to another. Yet to my king, I am as duty bound as a wife is to her husband. I must take what he gives without complaint. My questions must be confined to private conversations with those I confide in.”

Her eyes widened. “I had never thought to hear a man say such.”

“I'm not sure I would have ever voiced such a personal complaint even to Ambrose. Yet with you, I discover myself at ease.”

She nodded, feeling some of the walls pressing in on her retracting. “I wouldn't have told Mildred how I felt about taking a woman's place. It would have been…well—”

“Too personal?” he questioned.

“Aye.”

Which left her looking into his eyes once more and feeling like they had a unique understanding.

Ramon reached out and cupped her chin. “Let us not be too demanding of the world, but content in knowing we have passion between us and an…ease when in private. It is far more than many have. Come with me to the church door. I would not act dishonorably toward you.” His lips curved with hunger. “And your touch makes me forget my good intentions.”

It was far more than any husband had to promise. “I am…torn.”

It was the kindest reply she could make. He deserved more from her, had earned it. Guilt slammed into her with the force of a winter storm.

“I have known you but a few days.” She was pleading, but not entirely sure with whom. Herself or him? “I would not have you think me fickle.”

He suddenly grinned at her. “I think many things of you, and most of them make me want to haul you to the church over my shoulder so that I may get down to the business of immersing myself in your sweet flesh. You are not fickle, merely…wise. Yet I know what it is I crave, and the knowledge is nearly undoing me.”

He moved toward her, pinning her against the wall and kissing her until she was breathless. Her heart was hammering as he boldly cupped one of her breasts, stroking her beaded nipple with his thumb. She arched toward him, pressing her flesh into his hand.

“And you crave what I've promised you.” He pulled back. It felt as though he were ripped from her.

“I will satisfy you, Isabel. Yet I crave trust from you almost as much. You wish to be courted? Then prepare to have yourself held under siege until you surrender to temptation. Such is the only sort of engagement I know how to conduct.”

He left her sagging against the wall, his challenge ringing in her ears.

And passion burning in her belly.

Never before had she realized that an honorable knight might be so hated a creature.

For in that moment, she loathed the chivalric code.

* * *

“I would have thought you'd be at church,” Ambrose remarked.

“I would like nothing else.”

Men were hauling stone into the courtyard. Sweat glistened on their brows as they stripped down to under tunics to move the heavy load. Larger foundation stones had been dragged up with teams of horses, one at a time, to form the foundation of what would become a second keep. A wall would be built between them the following season.

Ambrose took a long look at Ramon before he chuckled. “The lady proves herself resistant to your charms?”

“Tread carefully, Ambrose.” Ramon closed his hand into a fist and sent it into his opposite palm. “I could use a good fight.”

“Aye, I see the need for release burning in you sure enough.”

Ramon popped his knuckles.

Ambrose threw his head back and laughed. “And to think…the lady is such a dainty thing to look upon… Yet she has you by the balls.”

“The day may come when retribution is mine, and I shall recall quite clearly how much amusement you are enjoying at my expense.”

Ambrose turned and flattened his hand over his chest. “Unlike you, my friend, my heart has room for many, many, and even many more lovelies. God has not made a single lady who can satisfy me.”

“You may hope so, for when you face her, you will wish you had not tempted the Creator to test you.”

Ambrose threw his arms wide. “I await all temptations!”

Two women nearby giggled. Ambrose looked at them and curled his arm so that his bicep bulged. They smiled, their expressions turning carnal.

Ramon turned away. He wanted something different. No one was more surprised than he was, but Isabel's scent was clinging to him, stirring his cock, and no other woman would satisfy him.

So he would just have to make sure the lady suffered as greatly as he. He would have her, but conceded that trust needed time to grow. So he would give her until sunset before pressing her again.

His cock throbbed, proving it was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Ramon was watching her.

Isabel snorted. Nearly everyone at Thistle Keep was eyeing her, yet it was the baron's dark gaze that she noticed. She could feel it.

When she crossed the yard, he watched her. She suddenly realized her hips were swaying as Rauxana's had.

By supper, she was on edge, exhausted by the way her body heated and cooled. She fled to her chamber and brushed out her hair before Ramon finished his meal. At last sleep claimed her, granting her a shred of mercy.

But it was only a small reprieve. She woke a few hours later, darkness close around her. She still felt Ramon near her. His scent and the sound of his even breathing touched her senses. She tried to fall back to sleep but her mind refused. She was awake, unable to quiet her thoughts.

“You suffer needlessly, Isabel.” Ramon lifted his head and rolled toward her. The window shutters were still open, allowing the moonlight to glitter off his eyes.

“I am simply—”

“Aroused,” he interrupted. “Something you need not suffer.”

He leaned down and smothered her protest beneath his lips.

In truth, she didn't have any words of protest in her. There was only need and craving, and Ramon was what she hungered for. The night seemed like a cloak, shielding them from everything except one another.

She reached for him, opening her mouth to let him deepen the kiss. He teased her lower lip with a longer sweep of his tongue before seeking hers. She arched toward him, the carnal nature of the kiss snapping through her. It broke through the last of her inhibitions, and she purred when she encountered his swollen member.

Thick and long.

It was hard against her belly as he pressed her down onto her back and trailed his kisses down her neck.

She remembered what it looked like.

But now, the image was a welcome one. Her passage was needy. She rolled toward him, pressing her body to his. For a moment, the connection pleased her, sending a rush of enjoyment through her, but it wasn't enough. She yearned for a deeper connection.

Ramon didn't disappoint. He ran his hands down her, boldly cupping her breasts through the thin, worn fabric of the chemise. She groaned and opened her eyes, surprised to hear such a carnal sound coming from her own lips.

Ramon chuckled. “Sinful or not, I enjoy hearing such things from you.” He lifted his head for a moment, capturing her gaze. “And knowing my touch is responsible.”

He was still holding her breast, massaging the tender globe. Pleasure surged through her. She arched, unable to remain still. Somehow, she'd never noticed how sensitive her skin truly was or how much she wanted to be stroked.

Ramon stroked her, his hands unleashing a delight that left her breathless. From her breasts and down across her belly and farther still, until he cupped the mound of her sex.

She cried out, unable to contain the swirling mass of sensation he was stirring inside her. She was alive with impulses. To move, to stretch toward him, to seek…something.

“Aye…anything but cold,” he said.

She opened her eyes, trying to focus on his words, but her thoughts were clouded, her lips dry and unwilling to form a reply.

Ramon didn't let her. He pressed a kiss against her lips and boldly thrust his tongue inside her mouth. She writhed, reaching for him and twisting her fingers into his hair. He wasn't close enough. She needed to be…something.

Instinct offered the answer. She thrust her hips toward him and sighed when she felt the hard shape of his member.

But he pressed her back, rubbing her belly with one large hand before venturing lower again. He tugged her chemise up, baring her naked body. The touch of the night air was blissful relief from the heat blistering her. A moment later, his fingers stroked her sex, sending a jolt of sensation through her passage.

She broke away from his kiss but he pressed her down on her back with the weight of his body.

“I will show you ecstasy, Isabel…”

She licked her dry lips, shocked by the fact that he was touching her in so forbidden a place, but gasping because it felt so very good. Somehow, she'd never truly understood the meaning of the word
delight
, because what his fingers were sending through her flesh was more enjoyable than anything she had ever experienced.

He dipped his fingers between the folds of her flesh and growled. “Your body welcomes me…”

When he drew his fingers back to the top of her slit, they were moist. She shuddered, clawing at the bedding, needing release.

But she had no idea how to gain it.

“Show me.” Her voice was raspy and almost unrecognizable. He looked at her and the breath froze in her chest as she saw the look in his eyes.

It was a savageness, but a welcome one. A burning need that existed only between them. He bared his teeth at her and plunged his fingers into her sex.

“As you demand…”

She cried out, losing the will to keep her eyes open. The only thing that mattered was the motion of his fingers. In and out. He worked two of them against the troubling point hidden at the top of her sex, drawing more of her juices from the opening to her passage as he went.

“Yes…” It wasn't really a word, but more of a sound. She twisted and strained toward him, her thighs clamping around his forearm. Everything was spinning, sweat dotting her brow in spite of the coolness of the night. Her heart beat frantically inside her chest, like a bird trying to escape a cage.

Yet it wasn't enough, not just yet. She lifted her hips, and her hands twisted in the bedding as her entire body was tightening beneath Ramon's fingers. Every thrust sent a new bolt of pleasure through her, and her only thought was to gain another and another and another, until she burst.

She shuddered, caught in a moment of pure rapture. The intensity held her like a vise, squeezing the breath from her as she moaned with delight. It twisted through her, burning away the hunger and dropping her back into reality, with the rich glow of satisfaction warming her. She couldn't move, except to drag in deep, hard breaths to feed her burning lungs.

Ramon pressed a tender kiss against her temple, his scent filling her senses and bringing her another measure of satisfaction. It was bliss, like she'd never expected to feel.

He withdrew from her and lowered her chemise. The bed rocked as he settled back to lie beside her. The moments moved by, seeming long and drawn out as slumber tried to pull her down into its embrace.

But she resisted, needled by the fact that she had given nothing in return. She rolled toward him.

“Sleep, Isabel.” He turned his head to look at her in the dark. “I know you want to now.” She did, but his expression was tight once more.

He
craves
what
he
just
gave
you…

Of course he did. She rolled her lips in and moistened them, because she realized that she wanted to please him. She moved onto her side, shifting her legs so that her thigh brushed his.

“Yet you are unsatisfied…”

He rose and pressed her back, cupping her shoulder with a firm grip before he buried his face in the nest of her hair and inhaled.

“Aye,” he confessed, his breath warming her neck.

He settled onto his back, the bed ropes groaning. “You are not the only one who wishes to maintain their sense of what they are. I am a knight. You are a lady I wish to wed. I will not dishonor you.”

He turned his head and reached out to stroke her jaw with one finger. She shivered. “When I lie with you, it will be as your husband.”

He drew in a stiff breath and settled, sounding as though he was pressing his back into the mattress.

“Yet now you know what ecstasy is and that nothing but lying with me will truly satisfy you.” There was a hint of smugness in his tone, but what rang in her ears was the warning.

She very much feared she was going to learn exactly what he meant.

Ramon was waiting for her.

She had never desired to have a man dependent on her will, for such would be vain, but Isabel was giddy knowing so powerful a man was willing to wait for her to decide to wed him.

Of course, he was also inflicting a very devious sort of torment on her because he refused to bring her to ecstasy now. The memory of that release drove her nearly insane when the man withdrew from her after kissing her breathless each night.

She had dark rings around her eyes from the hours of sleeplessness her frustrations had brought her. The days grew longer, but her longings didn't diminish.

“Lady.”

It was a full fortnight later when Ramon's squire found her working in the stillroom. The youth looked taller than he had the first time she'd seen him, if that were possible. He was lanky but there was a faint growth of beard on his face.

He lowered himself. “My lord would have you attend him.” The squire straightened and stood with his arm outstretched toward the yard.

It was early afternoon. Ramon had spent every hour supervising the training of his men and the construction of the new keep.

Isabel dusted her hands on her apron, removed it, and hung it on a hook set into the wall. She smiled when she reached the steps of the keep, tipping her head back to enjoy the warmth of the sun on her cheeks. Only at the end of the summer would the keep's stone warm completely through.

“My lady?” the squire inquired.

Isabel opened her eyes and lifted the front of her robes to descend the steps to the yard. It was two hundred feet to where the ground had been cleared for the new keep. Ramon stood atop the foundation. Isabel froze again, stunned by the sight of him and what he'd accomplished. He looked majestic, a portrait of strength and control. He had accomplished a lot in a mere two weeks. The new keep's foundation was five feet higher than Thistle Keep's foundation.

Ramon turned and offered her his hand. “Come, Isabel. See what we can create together.”

She took his hand and climbed onto the structure. She gasped at the expanse of stone. The foundation was twenty feet wider than Thistle Keep's. Already, two feet of the walls were in place.

“This hall will be large enough for all our people.”

“And it could not have been built without both of our resources.” She marveled at the way the stones were fitted so well together. There were vats of fresh mortar, which smelled of lye. Ramon's men helped carry the heavy stones up the steps, where the master masons were waiting with the tools to make certain the stone was placed level.

“Aye,” Ramon answered her. “Together, we are strong.”

His grip tightened. She turned and caught his gaze. “There will be a new chamber in this tower for you.”

“My chamber is sufficient.”

“It will be our chamber, Isabel. A place where only the two of us have ever been.”

Something moved through her and she realized it was happiness.

When had she stopped being happy?

Ramon reached out and stroked her chin. “Tell me your thoughts.”

Did
she
dare?

She suddenly felt bold. “I enjoy having you here.”

His eyes narrowed with pleasure. He maintained his firm expression, but he hooked his hand into his belt, and she saw his knuckles turn white.

“Wed me.”

His tone was short but she heard the passion. Or maybe she felt it. Honestly, she wasn't sure she had ever completely cooled.

“I am considering it.”

He groaned. “I am not a man practiced in the arts of courtship. Be merciful. Two weeks feels like an eternity.”

She was suddenly giddy again. Full of an excitement that warmed her cheeks and made it impossible not to smile. “I have never been courted, either. Yet—” She opened her arms wide and pointed at the new foundation. “I admit your efforts warm my heart.”

“Isabel—”

An impulse to toy with him was burning brightly in her. His greater size suddenly something she need not fear.

So that was trust.

Isabel lowered herself slowly and gracefully. “You impress me well, my lord. I cannot wait to see what else you shall do to soften my will.”

A promise flickered in his eyes. “Be assured there will not be so many eyes on us when that moment arrives.” His gaze lowered to her lips and set off a need that pulsed deep inside her belly.

Her cheeks warmed, but this time she welcomed the surge of passion. It awakened a soft throbbing between her thighs that she enjoyed. “Be careful, for that is a game both may play.”

He groaned softly but his eyes snapped with determination. “A challenge to the finish? Be sure, I am your man, madam.”

“Perhaps you shall be,” she simpered.

It was an astonishing admission to make, for she had always considered the action to be immature. With Ramon, it was a dangerous game that twisted her insides with excitement.

Ramon watched her as she left. She felt his gaze on her as though they were connected in some spiritual way. She looked back over her shoulder before she made it into Thistle Keep and watched his lips twitch into a small curve before he smoothed his expression and turned back to supervising.

He was a sight, so powerful and very welcome. She watched him command the men bringing up another large stone. They strained as they worked together to lift it into position. The grand mason held out a building square and made sure it was level. They pounded the stone into position, removing the mortar that squeezed out at the seams.

“When are you going to wed that man?” Mildred asked sternly.

“Perhaps by summer's end.” Isabel looked at her. “Perhaps I will make him wait until Michaelmas.”

Mildred humphed and propped her hands on her hips disapprovingly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “At least you stopped wearing those wimples. Time enough for those when your hair turns gray.” Mildred's face crinkled as she smiled. “And still time enough for babes! It looks as though you will enjoy making them.”

“Mildred!” Isabel admonished.

Mildred waved her off, and Isabel found herself smiling as well.

She just might enjoy being wed to Ramon de Segrave.

But there was no way she would tell him so just yet. After all, she shouldn't waste her only chance to be courted.

* * *

Mildred and Isabel climbed up to the doorway of the keep and disappeared inside. Neither noticed the young man watching them. He slowly ran a sharpening stone along the edge of a stone chisel. There were several others waiting to be worked on as soon as he finished, and a mason came to take the one he'd straightened the edge on. It was slow, grudging work, but he was fortunate to have been welcomed into the yard at all, since no one knew him. Only Ramon's desire to see the new keep built quickly had allowed him to mingle with the inhabitants of Thistle Keep.

He remained at his post, his fingers aching by sunset from the labor. But when the bell was rung at sunset, he didn't follow the rest of the workers into the hall for supper. He slipped into the darkness and farther away through the forest.

Jacques was busy enjoying a supper that tempted the youth, the scent drifting up to tease his nostrils and make his mouth water.

“So you managed it,” Jacques remarked as he bit into a piece of rabbit and pulled a chunk of meat free. He chewed it before continuing. “I am pleasantly surprised. What do you have to tell me?”

“The lady is not yet wed.”

Jacques dropped the meat. “Good.”

“But she told her nurse that she is considering wedding by the end of the summer. The Baron de Segrave courts her gently, with a patient hand.”

“Ramon always was soft with women,” Jacques declared. “He's had the time to starve her into submission if that priest insists on a willing bride.”

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Still, his softness will be my opportunity.” He was lost for a moment in contemplation before his gaze landed on the youth again. “Return.”

Jacques ripped a section of bread from what lay before him and cut a section of rabbit free with a long dagger. He tossed it to the youth. “There will be silver for you after I secure the heiress. Until then, keep your ears open.”

The youth lowered himself as he cradled the food. His belly knotted with hunger and his hands shook as he clutched the meal.

This was the best he could hope for. His mother had been a whore, and his only bit of luck had come from actually being born, considering his mother had taken more than one potion to rid herself of him.

He was strong. That was his blessing.

He had to make his own way and didn't dare spare a thought for the lady of Thistle Keep. Everyone had a master. It was simply the way life was. She'd settle in just as he had, for nobles were set above them all by God.

No one argued against God's will.

* * *

“Where are you going?” Ambrose asked.

Ramon lifted an eyebrow at Ambrose. “To share the company of someone fairer than you.”

Ambrose sniffed and covered his chest with a hand. “I'm wounded, my lord…deeply.” A woman shifted behind him, doing a poor job of stifling her laughter. “Aww…April…come to me.”

The woman walked up the steps of the platform that the high table sat on. Several of the candles had already been pinched out to save them, leaving the hall in semidarkness that felt as though it were conducive to seduction. The way the serving woman looked at Ambrose made it clear she was receptive to being seduced.

“I see how deeply wounded you are.” Ramon pushed his chair back and rose. “Do enjoy drowning your sorrows, my friend.”

“I shall,” Ambrose assured him. “But…April has something for us both.”

April was perched on Ambrose's thigh, his arm anchoring her against his body. Ambrose lifted a pottery jar with a thin neck that was sealed with a length of hemp rope and tar.

“Honey mead…a courting necessity.”

“The cook didn't want to part with it,” April said. “I had to convince her and it wasn't easy, even with the silver penny you gave me.”

Ambrose smiled at her. “I'll have to show you how grateful I am.”

“The cook is worried what the lady will say if she knows it's missing.”

Ambrose hugged April close and looked over her shoulder at Ramon. “I think the lady might enjoy the way she discovers it missing.”

Ramon picked up one jug and grinned. “She just might.”

“She'd better, for you owe me a ha'penny.”

April nuzzled Ambrose's neck. His friend was closing his eyes, looking pleased.

“Well then, best you come along with me now,” Ramon insisted. “I wouldn't want the debt to linger.”

April straightened and started to move off Ambrose's thigh. He clamped her back against his body and tucked his thumb beneath his forefinger, offering Ramon the “fig” insult.

Ramon laughed but performed a slow reverence to Ambrose in gratitude before he turned and carried the honey mead toward the stairs.

* * *

Isabel stubbed her toe when she took the candle back to the hearth to relight it. She hopped twice and dropped the candle. She jumped out of the way to keep the flame from touching her chemise.

“I see the wisdom of not having rushes on the floor.”

She looked up, the candle casting only a tiny amount of light from where it lay on the stone floor. Ramon closed the door behind him, his squire nowhere in sight.

The candle sputtered and she scooped it up before it died. Ramon set the jar on the table. She fit the candle into its holder and gaped at the jar.

“How did you pry that from the cook's storeroom?”

He grinned at her. “I am courting you, Isabel. The secrets of my cunning will not be revealed.” He used a knife to cut through the tar sealing on the top of the jar and pulled the rope stopper free. “Besides, I would be forced to confess that Ambrose is the one who managed the feat.”

She laughed softly. “Your captain knows the art of seduction well.”

Ramon poured a measure of the mead into a cup and offered it to her. She climbed onto the bed and sat next to him before accepting it.

“Ambrose also knows what the pillory feels like,” he said.

The mead was strong and sweet. She savored it as she shared a look over the rim of the cup with Ramon. “I might be bound to join him before the summer is finished.”

Ramon swirled his mead in his cup and inhaled the scent. “What sinful secrets could you possibly have, dear Lady of Camoys? Dare I hope they concern me?”

“You can be certain they do.”

Ramon's eyes narrowed with enjoyment. “In that case, this mead was worth every bit of grief Ambrose will extract from me.”

“I'm not going to wed you just yet,” she informed him as she drained her cup.

Ramon finished off his mead and poured her another measure before serving himself. “Greedy for more attention?”

She nodded, her lips curved into a mischievous smile. He contemplated her for a long moment over the rim of his cup. “On the morrow…”

“Yes?”

Ramon took a slow sip of his mead, letting his thought lie unfinished between them.

“Ramon?”

He chuckled darkly and raised his cup to her. “You will have to wait to discover my plans.” He set his cup down and captured the back of her head. “Linger in anticipation, for I will have you and you will be had very, very happily.”

He pressed a kiss against her lips. It stoked the hunger inside her, and she reached for him.

Summer was suddenly far too long a season.

But she'd not tell him her thoughts until the morning. She could wait that long.

But not much longer.

* * *

Isabel heard screams in her sleep.

She rolled over, trying to decide if it was a nightmare, but Ramon roared as he left the bed.

“To arms!” He pulled the window shutter open and yelled to his men. “To arms!”