Carolyne Cathey (17 page)

Doom oozed over
Kyle's flesh like liquid amber over an ant.  "And you hold the door to the
cage, Hanley?  Like all dangerous animals, I snap when cornered.  Take care
lest you lose your life in the attempt."  Disgusted, Kyle turned to the
window, then paused. 

Brigham and Lady
Mellisande stood in a shadowed corner of the garden.  Brigham held her hand.

Kyle's warrior
senses leapt to readiness.  Brigham obviously doted on the lady.  Why his
insistence Kyle take her as bride?  Kyle's suspicions about Brigham grew as
rapidly as poisonous toadstools in rank earth. 

Brigham and Lady
Mellisande visited as if in secret conversation.  Brigham glanced at the
window, hesitated, then slipped deeper into the shadows past Kyle's view.

Hanley moved to
stand beside Kyle.  "Ah, there she is.  Look, Kyle, in the corner of the
garden.  Is she not a goddess?  Does she not tempt you?  Imagine the delights
that can be yours after you wed."

Kyle studied the
slender woman.  True, she had been blessed with beauty.  She possessed a
delicate structure, hair the color of ripe wheat, pale skin untouched by the
sun.  His manhood hung limp, unaffected.  Eleanor.  He wanted Eleanor.  Desire
stirred his loins.

"Surely, Kyle,
having Lady Mellisande between your linens will give you a more pleasant repose
than on a deathbed."

"Unless
she's a viper, like her father."

Hanley clenched
his jaw, eyes ablaze.  As if in indignant thought, he scratched the wart on his
nose then inspected his too-long fingernail. 

Kyle ached to
squeeze the ugly protuberance off Hanley's face, nose and all. 

Hanley lifted his
chin.  "In truth, you have no choice, Kyle.  Trystonwood is mine."

"Pray
enlighten me, Hanley.  If I wed Lady Mellisande, how does my land become
yours?  Rather, ‘tis your lands that would eventually become mine – upon your
death."

Hanley’s jaw
ticked, then he shrugged.  "A figure of speech, Kyle.  'Twill be in the
family.  'Tis time to end this feud of ours."

Kyle released an angry
laugh.  "This feud is because of your greed.  Hanley Hall is larger,
richer, more amenable to life, yet you still lust for Trystonwood.  Have you
ever had to defend your own land?  Nay.  Not once have I crossed your
border." 

Kyle swallowed
his ire and moved to the hearth.  Heat warmed his face.  The scent of smoke
replaced Hanley's foul odor.  Kyle stared at the fire.  He had brewed a
troublesome concoction.  Eleanor.  Mellisande.  Hanley.  Brigham.  Edward.  And
he mustn't forget the dragon that had haunted his dreams since the night King
Edward had made the proposal. 
Were
Eleanor and the dragon the same? 
Nay, not Eleanor.  Something deep inside him assured him as much.  But still,
the beast waited in the darkness for the final confrontation.  The dragon
knew---Kyle would never fight his king.  And yet, Edward owed Kyle a favor for
when he had saved his life.  His only hope.

"What say
you, Kyle?"

Stall
. 

He must select
his words with care.  If Kyle even hinted the betrothal a surety, and then
didn't wed Lady Mellisande, Hanley would sweep over his unprotected land like
wind-driven flames, merciless and savage.  When Jerrod returned from his visit
to his family's estate, Kyle would send him to gather the knights.  But for now,
he must be noncommittal.

"An answer,
Kyle."

Kyle stretched,
then yawned.  "'Twould be rude of me to give you my answer before I've
spoken with the king.  Edward made the proposal.  Protocol demands he be the
first to know my decision."

Hanley's fleshy
mouth twitched his frustration.  "'Tis but an excuse to delay the
inevitable.  You and I both know the answer."

Kyle leaned over
and tossed a log on the fire, then brushed his hands and straightened. 
"If you were as certain as you pretend, Hanley, you wouldn't be
here."  He grinned.  "Do the world a favor.  Hold your breath until
you hear the news from King Edward."

E
leanor sat on the hard bench
feeling more alone than ever in her entire life, even more alone than when her
mother had left her at the convent.  Except for one time---the black pit.  Yet
the daystar gleamed in the heavens, so could not be the pit.

Eleanor wiped her
wet cheeks and looked at the sky, but the golden light reminded her of Kyle's
hair and the blue reminded her of his eyes, so she lowered her gaze to the
mossy silk of her lap and watched her trembling fingers clasp and unclasp,
clasp and unclasp, hating each throb between her legs that mocked her
stupidity.  Each beat pounded the too-late realization that the loss of her
innocence had robbed her of much more than her virginity.  She had lost an
innocence of spirit, of trust, of self-respect, and like her virginity, she
could never reclaim the loss.  Yet Kyle could go on with his planned life as
before, with one more successful seduction to his credit.  

She had acted the
fool.

But never again.

With her
new-found resolve, her self-respect breathed new life, a life she determined to
nurture and strengthen, for she must protect and prize her inner being, her
self-worth, or the world would guzzle her spirit like wine from a cracked keg
and leave her empty and broken.  And if she allowed the theft, she only had
herself to blame.

"Are ye the
witch?"

Terror froze her
thoughts.  Her attention flew to a young man in shepherd's dress who stood in
the edge of the tree's shadow, the tip of his staff at an angle on the ground.

"Why do you
ask me such a question?"

He stepped into
the sunlight, his hair the color of cinnamon and his eyes a shade darker. 
"'Tis all the rumor."

"But, why .
. . a witch?"

"Cause ye
have the master bewitched, that's why.  They says he waits on ye like a servant
and carries ye about.  And I saw that fer meself, so I know 'tis true.  Ye'd
have to be a witch fer him to act that way." 

Eleanor realized
that if he had seen Kyle carrying her, then he might have heard the argument as
well.  How much of her humiliation had the man witnessed? 

Something
squirmed in the shepherd's arm.

"A
puppy?"  In spite of her sorrow, Eleanor smiled at the wriggly bundle of
brown fur that snuggled against the man's brown wool tunic.

The shepherd
grinned and ambled toward her into the shade.  "Aye.  Would ye like to
hold him?"

She wiped the wet
remnants of betrayal from her face.  "Are you not afraid I might cast a
spell on you?"

Leaves crackled
as he stopped in front of her and held the writhing animal out for her to
take.  "I'd risk a spell from ye.  Yer the fairest thing I've ever
saw."

Eleanor widened
her eyes and took a closer look at the man who dared such boldness.  He seemed
about her age and handsome as well.  The stranger possessed a strong body used
to hard labor.  His brawny knees showed through the rips in his hose.  Holes
pocked his rough woolen garment and exposed his poverty.  The strong stench of
sheep wafted as he moved.

"Here, take
the scamp.  He won't harm ye none."

Eleanor reached
out, cuddling the warm bundle of motion that smelled of new puppy.  The
sensation calmed her ravaged heart.  "Ah, aren't you a sweet thing?" 
She rubbed her cheek against the wet black nose, and a tiny tongue lapped her
face.  Laughter bubbled from her chest and eased the cramp.  "What is his
name?"

The man sat
beside her on the bench.  "King Edward."

Eleanor looked up
at him in surprise.  "You named him after our liege lord?"

He grinned and
his eyes gleamed with humor.  "Aye.  I thought to order him about, but
like the king, he always gits his way."

Eleanor laughed. 
She had thought she would never laugh again.

"And me own
name is Rupert, in case ye'd like to know."

She nodded. 
"Rupert.  And mine is Eleanor."

"Like our
Queen?"

"Aye.  But I
don't think the world will confuse us."

He laughed, deep
and strong, but the sound didn't enthrall her as did Kyle's.  Disgusted, she
berated herself for comparing the honest shepherd to the deceitful man who had
used her to satisfy his lust.  Then she scolded herself even more for allowing
Kyle to use her body, her heart.

Edward jumped
from her lap to Rupert’s, then back again, a brownish splotch of motion between
the green and brown fabrics.

"Are ye the
lord's woman?"

Startled, Eleanor
threw him a glance, then focused her gaze on the weedy herb patch that lay
between the stone walk and the manor.  "Nay.  I've been ill, 'tis
all."

‘But ye wear
lady’s clothes.  I never heard of such as that afore.  I’ve been told even
lemans wear peasant garb, so I thought ye must be more than that, though I’m
not sure what that’d be, which is why I asked if ye were his woman."

"He . . .
Lord Kyle, that is . . . I mean I had naught to wear . . . " Her face
burned hotter with the incriminating truth, and which still didn’t explain why
he donned her in delicate silk instead of scratchy wool.  "I . . . I only
labor for Lord Kyle to repay a debt."

"Aye." 
He nodded as if willing to concede the subject.  "Yer sister told us in
the village ‘bout Brigham's threat.  Most watched the happenin'.  Ye have
courage to stand up to that heathen."  He leaned toward her in a
conspiratorial manner.  "Don't ye tell the steward I called him that. 
He'd most likely beat me till I died, or cut out me tongue first, then beat
me."

Brigham's name
sent a chill down her back.  "Have no fear, Rupert.  I won't tell
Brigham."

"Are ye
certain yer not Lord Kyle's woman?"

Eleanor stiffened
with her newly-birthed resolve.  "Aye.  I'm certain."

"Are ye
pledged to anyone?"

"Nay.  Why
do you ask?"

The shepherd slid
down on one tattered knee in front of her.  "Then, I'd like to be the
first to ask ye for yer hand. Yer a beauty, and ye even have all yer teeth. 
And iffen I don't ask ye now, someone else might get ye first.  Yer fresh goods
in Trystonwood."

Of all the
questions he could have asked her, she had not expected a proposal. 

"Since me
brother died a sennight ago, I have a bit o' land, enough that I can ask ye to
be me wife.  And now that I have property, I'm not required to be a shepherd,
that is, if the master will agree.  So ye see, I've got somethin' to offer ye
besides meself."

"But . . .
but . . . you don't even know me."

"I know that
yer a feast for me eyes.  And I'm strong and got me health.  Some says I'm not
bad lookin'."  He grinned as if he knew they spoke true.  "I know I'd
enjoy ye.  And ye'd enjoy me as well."  He waited for her response with
obvious anticipation.

"But . . .
but . . ."  She felt at a loss for words.  How could she even consider
such rashness?  And to wed Rupert to spite Kyle would only stack one deceit
atop another, with Rupert as the victim - and herself.  Yet, if he knew the
truth, he would disappear like a snowflake on a hot stone.  "Rupert, you
must know.  I'm no longer a maiden."

He cradled both
her hands between his rough palms.  Dirt ridged beneath his nails and stained
his fingers.  "I didn't figure ye were.  Not with the lord tendin' to ye
the way he is."  His eyes of cinnamon shone with hope.  A gust of wind
tossed his brownish curls about his pleasant, yet smudged, face.  "That's
why I thought ye were his woman.  No man could be near ye fer long and not want
to take ye.  And him bein' the master, well, how could ye refuse?"

A blurred shadow
of red yanked Rupert from the ground and slammed him against the tree trunk. 
Lord Kyle! 

"If you ever
touch my woman again you'll become fodder for the sheep!  Do you
understand?"

Coins would have
fit in Rupert's eyes they had grown so large with fear, his face ashen, his
body aquiver like the leaves that shook, then fell with the slam against the
rough trunk.

Infuriated,
Eleanor leapt to her feet and grabbed Kyle's arm, but he ignored her tugs.

"She claimed
she's not yer woman, so I only sought for her hand, milord."

"Since she's
not of Trystonwood you must have my permission.  Your request is denied.  And
she
is
mine."

Eleanor yanked on
Kyle with all her strength.  "I'm not your woman!"

Kyle spun to face
her, grasping her arms in a painful squeeze.  "You are!  And I will not
allow any other man to touch you."

Then his lips
proclaimed his mastery with a kiss, rough and urgent.  His tongue plundered her
mouth and threatened her hard-won determination. 

Nay.  He's
betrothed to Lady Mellisande.

Shaken by the
frailty of her will, she wrenched her lips from his, then shoved at his hands
and stepped back.  "Then should I threaten any woman who dares to touch
you?"  She had screamed the words so loud the entire world must have
heard. 

"'Tis not
the same."

She took another
step back for distance and fought to control her indignation.  "'Tis the
same for me.  I can't bear the thought that another will feel your glorious
flesh, experience your pleasure.  I love you, you arrogant . . ."

Heaven's mercy. 
She had confessed her love.  How dense.  Dense!

Kyle stared at
her in shock.  Then he closed the space and wrapped his strength around her
body.  "You think me free to do whatever I want, Eleanor, but I'm not.  Oh
lord, how I wish I were."

"But, you're
a free man."

"Nay.  I'm
the king's man."

"I know you
fight for your liege lord, and you've sworn your fealty, but I don't understand
the connection."

The red linen
that covered his chest rose and fell with his labored breaths, then he slid his
hands from her arms to his side and left her cold.  "I cannot explain. 
And I must solve this dilemma on my own."

"But, my
lord, I'm involved.  Perhaps I may be of service to you with your problem if
you wished to explain.  'Tis my life as well."

His eyes narrowed
to a stubborn glower.  "There is only one way you can serve me, and you
know well the way.  'Tis beneath me in my bed." 

Eleanor
straightened with indignant fury.  "After your betrayal, you say such to
me?  I'm here to give you aid because of the vision, not to be your harlot. 
'Tis Brigham who is behind this disaster.  He has brought your betrothed here
in hopes to cause such a scene.  In truth, I'm grateful.  He has reminded me of
my mission."  She crossed her shaking arms and glared at him, determined
not to drown in her wounded pride.

He closed his
eyes as if to gain control of his temper.  "Do not interfere, Eleanor. 
There are facts of which you know naught."  He turned and focused on the
distant hills of purple mist.  "The dragon is aroused, lass.  A dragon I
fear I cannot slay."

Her lungs
tightened at the mention of the beast.  "But you say 'tis not Brigham. 
So, who?  The king?"

Perspiration
beaded on his brow as he remained motionless, hesitant, then he faced her and
sought her compliance with his tortured gaze.  "I know I should never have
made the wager, Eleanor.  But you spoke true.  I am arrogant.  I never thought
you'd win.  Yet, I still must have you.  I will have you.  Even if I can't take
you as wife."

His words rammed
into her heart with a painful thud.  "You admit that I won, and yet you
lied about the outcome, which means you've broken your sacred vow.  You also
threaten to take me against my will---another broken vow.  Well, my lord and master,
I'm not a knight, but I also live by a moral code.  I admit I've given into
temptation this day, but no more.  The only way you will have me outside of
wedlock is if you take me by force.  Just how honorable are you, knight?"

Kyle flinched as
if she had struck him a blow, then he stared at her for several moments,
stunned.  "'Tis not as uncomplicated as appearances indicate, Eleanor. 
There is much you don't know.  For one, I must solve this dilemma without
losing this land for which my parents lost their lives.  Trystonwood and my
fealty to the king have always been the only import in my life.  But I won't
give you up.  I can't explain the reason for my desperation, for I understand
naught of my obsession with you, but therein lies part of my problem."  He
turned and strode to the weed-choked herb garden, then faced her, hands
outstretched, his expression desperate.  "This arrangement is of benefit
to us both.  I offer you shelter and food.  I offer you protection and
companionship. I offer you more than any in your position can ever hope to
expect." 

She shook her
head and scoffed.  "You seek to fill a temporary emptiness in your bed by
purchasing my soul with basic needs, but I long for more during my brief
existence.  I want someone to care for me who isn't ashamed of my status and
who believes my worth is more than lying beneath him while he pounds out his
passion."

Her words must
have only encouraged him, for his eyes darkened to evening as he closed the
distance and stopped much too close, his lips a sensual softness.  "I made
my claim on you when I first probed deep inside your body and shaped you to fit
me.  And no matter what, you are mine, for eternity."

She pushed back
from his nearness and reached out for the tree's support, the rough bark scraping
her fingers.  "For eternity?  Or until you tire of me and toss me out? 
Rupert knows I'm no longer a maiden and yet he still wants me."  Why had
she said that?  For revenge?  Her gaze scanned the garden, but the shepherd had
vanished.  In truth, she wanted no one but the man who could never be hers. 

"If I ever
see him near you again, Eleanor, I'll...I'll---"

"Before you
waste an unnecessary threat, let me enlighten you.  Like Saul on the road to
Damascus, I've experienced a conversion, baptized with tears of reality.  I am
here for one purpose only, the vision, and---"