A Witch's Tale (27 page)

   
“You give me little choice in it when you put it that way,” she muttered in
disgust.

“You
could do worse than an earl, Daughter,” he said with a sneer. “Had Sybilla not
found you out; you’d have married that pauper Grey.”

Jocelyn
stiffened at the mention of her heart’s intended, glaring through her tears.
“John did his best to appeal to you. I can see you don’t wish to be rid of me
as much as you say. He would have married me gladly!”

“The
man’s a damned commoner, Jocelyn,” the man said with a scowl. “You will not
sully my name or your mother’s memory by marrying a damned blacksmith!”

“He’s
a blacksmith’s apprentice,” she reminded him sharply.

“What
is the difference? The man’s beneath your notice for a husband.”

“What
do you care, Father?” she asked bitterly. “You do Sybilla’s bidding to be rid
of me and quibble over whether my choice is suitable?”

“You
are still my daughter, Jocelyn,” he snapped in annoyance. “Had you been more
amicable to Lord Lunley’s suit, we would not be here, I would think.”

Jocelyn
gasped in outrage. “So this is my punishment for offending Sybilla’s brother,
is it? I’m to be married off posthaste or left at a nunnery?”

“You
more than offended the man, my dear. You broke his blasted nose!” her father
snarled. “For that alone, you show how unruly you’ve become since your sainted
mother died. It is your choice. Find the man and charm him or resign yourself
to a nunnery!”

The
man left his daughter alone, stomping away to use the privy. She didn’t see the
one who walked away or the speculative look on his handsome features.

****

 “I
have found your bride,” Alastair informed him as they walked in the royal
gardens. “I have given her name to the king. You will be pleased with Lady
Jocelyn Carlisle, I think.”

Gavin
shrugged. “What does it matter? Whomever you’ve chosen will be suitable. I care
not.”

Alastair
was annoyed now. His friend really needed to snap out of his melancholy since
Madeline’s marriage. Lady Jocelyn’s father was only too delighted to unload his
daughter and couldn’t wait to leave her at court in the king’s custody. He felt
sorry for the girl. What made his decision was learning her stepmother was
Madeline’s half sister Sybilla.

Madeline
regaled him enough with tales of the woman and her brother to have pity on her.
He was only too happy to assist in getting her away from the Lunley’s. He
cursed her father for threatening the girl with a nunnery. The lovely blonde
wouldn’t suit the nunnery. He thought her just the means to bring his friend
out of his doldrums.

“It
might interest you to hear about the woman you would spend the rest of your
life with,” he said harshly, his dark eyes flaring. “Instead you pine for a
woman you were never in any position to offer more than a place in your bed. I
think we both know she deserved better than that. If it eases your mind, your
bride is both beautiful and spirited. Do you a favor and take notice on the
morrow. Madeline belongs to Rohan now. You must forget her.”

Gavin
watched Alastair stalk away and cursed under his breath to be reminded he would
wed Lady Jocelyn before the coronation on the morrow. Any other man might have
gone to his bride’s room to see her before the nuptials. He couldn’t bring
himself to do so. Alastair wouldn’t have saddled him with anything less than
his own taste.

Knowing
Madeline went to her husband this night would keep him up, imagining his lovely
witch in Rohan’s bed. He was frustrated to know he fought the urge to go find
her now and drag her away from here, damning the consequences. Instead he
retreated back to his tent to spend the evening with his men and drown his
sorrows.

****

Rohan
entered his room and smiled to see Madeline pacing before the crackling hearth,
her white silk nightgown drawing his gaze. His dark eyes glowed as he removed
his surcoat, gazing at his fiery wife in appreciation.

“Your
eagerness warms me, sweet wife,” he drawled and saw her eyes narrow in anger.

“Then
you see what you want, my lord,” she said with a scowl. “I would have no
illusions between us, Rohan. We are married, whether we like it or no.”

Rohan
chuckled at her words. “What illusions are these you speak of? I see you quite
clearly.”

“You
see nothing at all,” she snapped. “Recall what happened to you after our time
in the barn? Recall your dilemma with Lady Strathmore? I did that to you.”

Rohan
raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought my servants could be trusted. It was
obviously her servants who told you about that. What are you talking about?
What did you have to do with either of those incidents?”

“I’m
a witch, my lord,” she said with a steady look at him. “I would have no secrets
between us. It is not the way to start a life together, you agree?”

Rohan
smirked at her disclosure. “A witch, you say? You are many things, my fiery
one. A witch, I think not.”

“I
put the spell on you to make you sleep the day away in the barn. I also kept
you abed with Lady Strathmore. I did it to give Gavin more practice time with
you out of the way. It is my fault, no doubt, that you lost.”

“It
appears you are under some misconception you had anything to do with those
things, Madeline,” he argued and shook his head. “Both can be explained and
neither are your doing. Why are you saying such things?”

“Do
you know where Gavin found me?”

“Where
did he find you?”

“I
was being burned for witchcraft and he put a stop to it,” she informed him,
seeing his eyes widen, but still he remained unconvinced.

“I
should thank de Mortaine for saving my future wife,” Rohan teased and saw her
eyes narrow to slits. “This is ridiculous, Madeline! You’re no witch!”

“I
turned Lady Strathmore into a cat,” Madeline went on to say, unperturbed from
his disbelief. “I turned Strathmore’s groom into a snake when Sir Alastair and
I caught him trying to hurt Goldwyn before the tournament.”

“That
explains what happened to both of those missing,” he replied with a shake of
his head. “Why are you saying such things, Madeline? You are no witch!”

She
eyed him sadly, her smile forlorn. “Mayhap not a very good one, but it is
true.”

“So
you do spells and that such nonsense?” he asked and rolled his eyes. “You are
hardly a witch! I think you blame yourself for matters out of your control,
wife. Come, I would talk of more pleasant subjects,” he said and his dark eyes
filled with desire.

Madeline
came and stood before him, blue eyes filled with tears. “No, you will believe
me before we start a life. I’ll not have you find out later and claim I lied of
it.”

Rohan
removed his shirt, his dark eyes holding hers. “I know what I need to know of
you, sweet one. I have thought of nothing but you since the moment I set eyes
upon you. You could be a witch, for you have cast your spell upon me, well and
truly.”

“There
is more,” she told him as she watched him continue to disrobe. “I turned the
baron of de Valmont and his son into rats. They took gold from Lady Strathmore
to kill her husband.”

“Sounds
as if they all got what they deserved,” he said without concern. She gave an
exasperated sigh as he continued to undress.

Madeline
eyed him with something akin to distress. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Rohan
could see she believed all she said and was dismayed, wondering whether his new
wife was a bit touched to think she had anything to do with any of that. He had
a personal knowledge of witches. This delightful redheaded creature was not one
of them. Thoughts of his mother began to dampen his pleasure of his wedding
night. His lips tightened and he vowed to think of it no more. He’d think of
nothing but the woman he won through losing.

At
the last moment, he gave de Mortaine the advantage, tipping his lance to give
him his way. He knew when James Stuart offered Madeline in the tournament, the
king never intended she go to the Lord of Rivenhahl. He knew it and allowed
himself to lose, knowing he could have won.

Those
breathless moments with her in the barn made his decision. A barony wasn’t
close to what he could have attained that day, but the woman in front of him
became all he wanted at that moment. She thought she loved de Mortaine, but he
would change her mind.

The
man had the same choice as he, and took his prize, foolishly thinking the king
would allow him Madeline too. Rohan meant to marry her and take her back to
Ireland with him those last moments, never able to finish his pledge to her
before matters spiraled out of control.

His
lips hardened to know James Stuart held her over their heads during the
tournament for his own amusement. The king wouldn’t allow one of his earls to
wed a common born girl. That sad fact was known by him only too well, but not
by de Mortaine or Madeline.

The
man gave her up whether he acknowledged it or not. Rohan had only to convince
his lovely wife of it, make her see the truth. The man she believed she loved
wanted his birthright more than her. Rohan never had much to start with. A
barony was better than nothing. With this woman at his side, it was enough.

“I
believe whatever you believe, Madeline,” Rohan said as his hand reached out and
untied her robe. It slithered to her ankles and his dark eyes slid over her
bare ivory shoulders in the sheer night gown. “I don’t wish to talk anymore.”

Madeline
saw the desire in his eyes, felt her heart hammer to think of that hurried
encounter in the barn. To know they had all night made her tremble to see his
obvious arousal as he slid his breeches down, kicking them away.

Rohan
swept her into his arms and bore her to the large four poster bed, laying her
down before he came down next to her, sliding down the straps, his breath
catching as he bared her breasts. His hands stroked the soft flesh, his dark
eyes never leaving her face.

“You
are the only prize I saw today, Madeline,” he whispered as his hands stroked
her velvety flesh. “We begin anew tonight. No talk of witchery or your
misguided feelings for de Mortaine. You are mine, lady.”

Madeline
gasped as his lips took hers in a scorching kiss, forgetting all but the feel
of his hands and mouth. He worshiped her flesh with knowing caresses, making
her breathless. Rohan laved at her breasts making her moan as desire leapt
within her.

When
his big body covered hers, his dark eyes met hers with such intensity, she
couldn’t look away. He entered her with a low moan, closing his eyes with
ecstasy as he stroked within her. She held him, feeling the force of his ardor
as he drove deeply within her, murmuring her name as she dug her fingers into
his wide, muscled back.

Rohan
took her fiercely, bringing her to a shattering release. Her eyes were wide
with wonder as he surged within her. She cried out against his neck, holding
him tightly at the last. She felt a thousand suns burst within her. His hands
held hers in his as he joined her in the fiery aftermath.

He
held her against his sweaty chest, his hands sliding through her long red hair.
They didn’t speak as they lay entwined. He could see the confusion in her deep
blue gaze. The passion that flared between them took her off guard, made her
question all. Rohan curved around her, holding her close, the day catching up
to him as he slept contentedly.

****

Madeline
was tormented by her burning responses to Rohan. She sat up and watched her new
husband sleep with the ease of a child, his handsome face soft in repose. He made
her feel so out of sorts she couldn’t sleep. She sat up and hugged her knees,
her eyes sliding over him appreciatively, despite her best efforts to ignore
him.

Rohan
had a tall powerful build with heavily corded muscles. There was no spare flesh
anywhere. She was ashamed to feel herself growing aroused just by looking at
him in the dim firelight.
Husband,
she thought in wonder once more this
day. Thinking of their future made her frown.

Rohan
refused to believe his new wife was a witch. He humored her before he
consummated their marriage with such thoroughness she grew breathless to think
of it. In those moments she had not thought of Gavin at all. Her husband
refused to believe she loved Gavin, mocked her for dwelling upon the knight who
brought her to the tournament.

A
practical part of her recalled she was only here to give Gavin his reward for
saving her. It was her daily bindings that made him love her, she thought
wistfully. She wanted so much for him to feel that way, basked in his
affections, and never stopped to face the grim truth it was all by her spell’s
design. Tomorrow he would wake up and be free of her spell.

Tears
filled her eyes to know no amount of magic could have made him want her more
than what he came to London to reclaim. No bitterness was felt to know that.
She was happy for him, knowing she helped him achieve that.

Her
gaze slid to her handsome blond husband and wondered how he came to lose. Rohan
never lost a jousting match in his career, a fact she couldn’t ignore,
recalling his offer before the tournament. He asked her to leave with him if he
lost. That only told her he intended to from the start, before she was led away
by the king and his entourage.