Conquering the Dark Axe (13 page)

He ignored her stricken expression and tamped down
the remorseful feeling washing over him. He replaced it again with the anger of
her attempted escape. She had reduced him to behave like the Norman savage she
had so branded him and now she had to deal with the consequences.

Feeling her lip tremble as she gripped the cold
steel chains in her hands, Alexa closed her eyes against the sight of him
before she lost the battle of wills with him.  What had she done? 

She heard people moving about and she cracked her
lids open.  They were now alone.  

He stood silently next to the bed, his broad back,
rigid, faced her.   Then he walked to the door.  Alexa held her
breath.  She now knew her anger was at herself, not him.  When he
remained at the door, she waited, trembling with hope.

He did not turn and closed the chamber door quietly
behind him.  The hope in her died and the flood gates opened.  The
man had tried. He’d been willing to meet her halfway after the poison and
she-  she had been so angry and upset at the emotions he stirred deep
inside her and seemed to think naught of them that she had let her hot temper
get the best of her. Alexa found herself crying harder than she had on their
wedding night.

Alexa woke to something warm and soft caressing her
belly.  She came out of her deep sleep and his smell hit her first. 
Woodsy and masculine.  It was night.  He had not lied.  He had
come to her.

One taper gave light inside the smaller
chamber.  She had on a thin shift and tied as she was and in the position
needed for him to do his duty, there was nothing she could do.   She
shivered under his touch and looked up to see that his hooded gaze watched
her.  He held her gaze for a long moment, saying nothing.  Then he
leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against hers.  A shiver shot down to
her feet.

She jumped when his tongue licked the sensitive skin
just below her ear.  She bit her lip to stifle the cry that bubbled
forth.  Her heart ached as she lay there while his hands roamed over her
body. 

She’d cried so hard over her dilemma that she’d made
herself sick.  She’d not eaten from the platter that had come up. 
She saw now that it still sat on the table next to the bed.  His gaze
drifted to it.  But he said nothing.  Pain twisted inside her. Would
he not tell her to eat for strength so she could be healthy enough to give him
his son?  Nay.  Tears stung her eyes.  He would not, for his
golden head had moved lower and now he was kissing her breasts through the thin
shift and Alexa was damned.  The sins of the flesh reared and she shook
under him as her body, the traitorous beast it was, forsake her once again and
responded with eagerness when he took her hardened pebble into his hot
mouth. 

She hated what had happened. 

She hated him.

She hated herself more.

Hot angry tears gushed from her and she trembled
with them from the sweet torment he was delivering to her breasts.  So
lost in her grief, it was a moment before she realized that he no longer
suckled her, but was sitting up, his intense  gaze on her again.  Her
sobs heavy, she stared back.  The anger that was storming in his narrow
gaze seared her to her very soul. 

After a moment, he rose and left the chamber without
a word or backward glance. 

Moments later Camm came in with the key to free her
so she could relieve herself.  She came with the guards at the door. But
Alexa did not care.  Escape was no longer in her mind. She was too drained
for those thoughts.  Something inside she’d not known was there had
withered when Rourke had closed the door behind him this time.  She spoke
no words to her worried, faithful maid and within moments she climbed back into
bed and quickly fell asleep.

FOURTEEN

By the third day of confinement, word came to Rourke
by way of Camm that his wife still refused to eat. Her confinement had not
stopped him. He ate even though he did not taste his food. He swallowed down
the last of the elderberry wine when he spotted a disgruntled Goran entering
the hall.  Rourke tore another piece of the seasoned meat off a leg of the
overcooked fowl. Goran dropped down in the seat next to him and Rourke could
feel his eyes on him. Yet he kept his gaze fixed on a spot above the entrance
of the hall, feigning interest on the wooden beams.

“No surprise your appetite does not seem to be
affected.” 

Rourke ignored his gibe and sank his teeth once
again into the meat with added relish.  He knew what Goran was after, but
this time, he would not engage him just yet.

“Friend…” Rourke started. He dropped the now cleaned
bone back to the trencher, wiped his mouth and hands on the long cloth before lounging
back with a bit of a pointy stick held between his fingers.  “'Ere you
think to continue this chivalric bone you have stuck to your side over your
disagreement with me over her confinement, you will find yourself stationed at
Clegg castle as the new bailiff.”  Rourke turned his hard gaze on him
then.  “Do we understand one another?”

Goran’s answer was a curt nod and he reached out to
fill his trencher from the platters on the table.  His second-in-command’s
temperament did not fare well in Wales. Rourke threw the thin bone back on the
table as anger rose in him. He did not want to speak that hellion's name let
alone think about her.

He did not sleep and what little he did manage to
get, he was haunted by her face, the softness of her skin, the tilt of those
wide amber eyes.  The dent in her bottom lip- Ah, hell and damnation, he’d
no rest and as long as he didn't, neither would anyone else within Barnett
manor. Were he to say her name, he believed, he'd never get her out of his
head. With Goran’s continued interference the ornery thorn in his side buried
itself deeper and deeper.

“You cannot keep doing this, Rourke.”

Goran’s tone was worrisome, like a hammer in
Rourke’s skull. As he’d known, his friend never gave up easily and Rourke had
expected no less. He knew just how displeased Goran was with this latest upset
and Goran knew just how far to push before he gave up. And always had.

Still Rourke ignored him.  In less than an
hour’s time the serfs would be filling the hall with the day’s reports and any
complaints.   ‘Twas midday and still the bleeding headache he had
woken with plagued him.

Rourke was in a vortex of fury, like he’d never
experienced before and he could not collect his wandering wits. 

Goran’s voice grated on him again.  “She will never
forgive you nor learn to trust any of us if you continue this…in this way.”

“What? Think you I care what she thinks?” Rourke’s
voice increased with each word.

Goran tried another approach.  “You have not
given her time to grieve her sister.”

This time Rourke spoke, coolly, but still did not
look at his friend.  “She can mourn rightfully in black while
imprisoned.  On the other matter, I’m done with her. The wedding night was
enough to see her with child.  If not, then it will be seen to again at
that time.” 

Rourke thought silently, almost bitterly.  He
would cut off his right arm first before he entered that chamber again. 
If the hellion got her menses, then he would take it back to task. But not
until then. 

“But Rourke, this is all new to her.  You
are-“Goran cleared his throat at the visible stiffening of his lord’s broad
shoulders. “’Tis not as if you are the most subtle about things. Especially
with those-  irons.”

Rourke looked at him again, pinning him with a feral
glare.   He need not be reminded of her making him so mad, that he
had pulled out those irons.  Regret twanged in him still.  Her
passion was as fiery as her relentless defiance and he had let her get under
his skin. What a fool he’d been!

Never would he let his guard down again with her. He
simply would keep her locked away forever.  Forever a prisoner. 

Rourke rubbed absently over the space above his
heart as his thoughts tormented him.

“One more word, Goran…” he hissed, adding, “Just do
as I ordered and report to me anything out of the ordinary and naught else.”

Goran turned from that familiar warning look and
waved a hand to a waiting sentry that had just entered.  The sentry nodded
and turned away.  Goran shook his head and added as he moved to
stand.  “Very well then.  But she’s not Lady Jacqueline is all I’m
saying.”

Rourke was out of his chair and had Goran by the
neck of his tunic in seconds with his friend’s feet nearly off the
ground.  “Say her name again and I’ll beat you black and blue.” 
Rourke’s breath came hard.

Goran held his ground.  “Aye, you can indeed.
Still, does not change the truth of my words. Not all women are her. You have
to see that or you will never find peace, my friend.”  Goran’s last were
full of emotion.

Rourke dropped his hand.  He did not care to think
on it anymore.  He was grateful when the sentry returned with a wary look
on his face and a villager at his side.  Rourke beckoned the two forward,
wanting to get this over with quickly, as the rest of those who wished to be
heard by the Dark Axe of the Manor, lined up behind them in the hall. 

Alexa was only aware of the passing of time through
Camm, otherwise she’d have no other way of knowing.  It had been three
days since Rourke had come into the chamber.  From what little she gleaned
from her maid, the manor was showing major changes under his presence.  At
first she had been angry, for Camm spoke with pride in the retelling of
it.   But Alexa knew it was just her own wounded pride as the true
cause.   As much as she loathed admitting, it sounded as if he was
changing things for the better.  All her people had fallen so fast and
easily under his spell in such a short time, despite the fact that their
mistress lay locked away above stairs.  The rumor from Camm came that if
she tried anything more, he’d lock her away in the only tower of the manor. The
man would not have said it if it were not truth.  The tower had not been
used by her parents and was in need of great repair.  No one ventured near
it out of the fear of superstitions of many years gone past. 

Alexa never heard the door to her room across the
hall shut in the eve.  She heard it open and shut early come dawn, but
never again after that. ‘Twas the only time noise came from the chamber she had
once shared with him.  Camm said nothing of where Rourke was spending his
nights, nor did Alexa give in to the antsy and terrible emotion that plagued
her and ask her about it. 

She had three days to think of her plight and she
had come to a decision. 

What had happened to her was happening across all of
England.  She would not take a knife to her own throat to end her misery
nor to escape this marriage.  Nay.  She may as well try and work it
through.  The man had left her untouched since the other night.  For
three days.  Mayhap he was waiting to see if his seed had taken. 

Well, he was in for a surprise, for just a bit past
midday, Camm had left her fresh strips of cloths.  She’d started her
menses.

Alexa was shocked that a part of her had been
saddened that his seed had not took.   She told herself it was simply
because if she had gotten with child, he’d not have to take her again. 
But something pulled at the back of her thoughts that it was a lie.  

She would be pleasant and try to discuss things with
him as soon as he showed himself.  She could have made it easier and told
Camm to tell him that she wished to speak with him.  But she would
not.  Let him come to her.  He’d made her a true
prisoner.   She would not beg or ask him of anything.  She
needed no favors from him. Anxiety filled her gut as another thought came to
her.  What if he never came to her again? 

She walked to the area by the window and stretched
her body this way and that.  She was only allowed a few minutes a day to
be free of the chains to exercise and see to her toilette and nothing
more. 

She knew Camm worried over her because she did not
eat. She couldn’t, her appetite had left her. Alexa could not bring herself to
share her inner thoughts with her maid.  Even if she had wanted to, she
did not know what she’d say for she was unsure herself what truly was going on
inside her or what would happen next.   She only knew that she wanted
to see her husband.  Why?  She was not quite sure on that either, she
just did.

She’d not thought of escape since that eve and had
even put those thoughts aside.  She would not run from her home or be run
out.  Nor be a prisoner in it.   If he was going to be the Lord
of the Manor, her home, then she wanted to be present as he did it. 

She knew there was more to it than that, but she
refused to look further at those thoughts.  She was going crazy in her
sister’s chamber and becoming prisoner to her melancholy.  She walked to
Lisbeth’s chest and picked up one of her sister’s bracelets.

It was a set and she looked for the matching one
among Lisbeth’s other jewels on the silver tray on top of the wooden chest and
was unable to find it.  They had buried her sister with a few of her
favorite and special pieces.  The cuff would never fit over Alexa’s
wrist.  Lisbeth had always been so frail, dainty like. Mayhap that was
part of the reason she’d not been able to fight off the sudden illness. As
Alexa sorted through her sister’s things, she noted other fine pieces were
missing too.