Fire Song (39 page)

“Nay, I find Guy most accommodating.”

“He is
my
husband,” Blanche said sharply.

“I know. Please, Blanche, I have never taken anything of yours.” Kassia did not realize that Blanche’s words were spurred by jealousy, and added, a touch of
sarcasm in her voice, “Incidentally, Dienwald de Fortenberry sends you his greetings.”

Kassia heard Blanche’s hissing breath, but she merely nodded and turned away.

Graelam remained occupied with his friends, and it was Rolfe who accompanied Kassia and Etta on a tour of London. So many beautiful things, she thought, fingering bolts of exquisite material. But she had no coin, and was too ashamed to admit it to Rolfe.

Late that evening Kassia lay huddled in the soft bed, wondering where Graelam was. When she at last heard the door to their bedchamber open and close, she closed her eyes tightly. She felt the bed sink under Graelam’s weight, and tried to calm her breathing, to pretend sleep.

“I know you are awake, Kassia,” he said, his words slightly slurred from too much ale.

“Aye,” she admitted. “I am awake.”

“Tell me, wife, when I left you alone with Blanche, were you again unkind to her? I saw her standing alone, her head bowed, after you so callously left her. What did you say to her, Kassia?”

She sucked in her breath. “I said nothing untoward to her!”

“Why do I not believe you?” he snarled at her softly.

Kassia could no more prevent her actions than stop the sun from rising. Lurching up, she drew back her arm and slapped him as hard as she could. He looked at her with blank surprise, then his eyes darkened in fury. She cried out and rolled off the bed. Naked, she ran toward the bedchamber door.

He caught her about the waist and jerked her around to face him. His fingers bit into her soft flesh but she
made no sound. She stared numbly at his hair-covered chest and waited.

“If I thrust myself between your lovely legs, will I again find you warm and ready for me?” His voice was softly taunting.

She shook her head, afraid to speak, afraid of what would come from her mouth.

He entwined his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back.

“Will you howl your pleasure before I have scarce begun to couple with you?”

She saw the vague imprint of her palm on his cheek. “Will you strike me?” she asked.

“You deserve it,” he said, his eyes falling to her small white breasts. “But no. There is a more effective punishment for you, is there not? I must simply ensure that your fear of me douses your passion.”

She trembled. “You will force me again, rape me like you did poor Mary?”

“Why not?” he asked harshly, hating himself for the desire he felt for her. “I can do anything I wish with you. You are my wife.”

“Please, Graelam,” she whispered, trying to pull away from his searching hands, “do not hurt me.”

He lifted her and carried her to the bed. “No, I will not hurt you, but neither will I allow you pleasure.” He pressed her onto her stomach and spread her legs. She heard his jerking breathing, and closed her eyes against the humiliation. She knew he was staring down at her, and when his fingers touched her, she quivered and cried out softly. Suddenly he released her.

“Go to sleep,” he said harshly. “I do not want you.”

She curled into a ball, drawing the covers to her
chin. She felt tears sting her eyes, and quickly and angrily dashed them away.

One moment she was sleeping soundly, and the next, she was moaning softly into the darkness. Her legs were quivering with the exquisite feelings, and there was an inescapable burgeoning glow of pleasure deep within her. She felt his mouth, hot and wet, kissing her, caressing her, and both sleep and the humiliation she had felt fled her mind.

He took her, and her body dissolved into a torrent of pleasurable sensations.

Her body was utterly sated, but her thoughts tumbled in confusion. How could she respond to him so easily after what he had said and done? I am nothing but a simple fool, she thought.

The heavy cloak made her clumsy, but she ignored it and took another arrow from Evian. She set it in its notch and slowly drew it back until her bunched fingers touched her cheek. She released it, her eyes never leaving the target. To her immense pleasure, she heard a satisfying thud and saw the arrow embedded firmly in the straw target.

“Well done, my lady!” Evian said, clapping his hands.

She wanted to shout her own pleasure at her meager prowess. She would never be Chandra, but she had hit the target, and from twenty feet.

“I have improved, have I not?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. The boy nodded enthusiastically. Kassia saw that he was shivering with cold. “Oh, Evian,” she said, “you are freezing! It is enough.”

But Evian saw her gazing wistfully toward the remaining arrows in the leather quiver. “Nay, my lady,” he said firmly, “you have six more arrows to shoot.”

“I can see your breath even as you speak,” she chided him.

“We will not have sunlight for much longer,” he said, and handed her another arrow.

Rolfe rubbed his arms as he rounded the naked-branched apple trees in the orchard. Saint Peter’s bones, he thought, it is getting cold! He started to speak, then stopped and watched Kassia shoot three arrows. All three hit the target firmly, one of them close to the dark blue center. He smiled ruefully, remembering his shock when Kassia had approached him during their return trip from London. She had pulled her mare in beside him, and he felt her eyes upon him, studying him.

“My lady!” he asked, turning in his saddle to face her.

“Rolfe,” she said, “will you teach me to use a bow and arrow?” The words had rushed out of her mouth and he would have laughed had he not seen the intense, pleading look in her eyes. He was not stupid. His young mistress had met the exquisite Lady Chandra, had watched her with all the other nobles in her match with the king. He had been in Lord Graelam’s service when he had decided he wanted to wed Chandra de Avenell, the warrior princess, as he called her. He had accompanied him to Croyland and witnessed the first success and final failure of his plan to wed the girl.

He asked very gently, “Why do you wish to learn a man’s skill, my lady?”

Her eyes fell for a moment; then that resolute little chin of hers rose defiantly. “I wish to be complete,” she said. She knew it odd of her to speak thus to her husband’s master-at-arms, but she did not have a choice.
She doubted he would help her if she was not honest with him.

He pondered her words for a long moment. “A lady such as you is complete. You manage a great keep, help Blount with the accounts—aye, he told me that—direct the preparation of meals that keep our bellies happy, and play an amazing game of chess.”

“It is not enough,” she said quietly. He saw the flash of pain in her fine eyes, and wished for a moment that he could kick his master off his destrier and pound some sense into his thick head.

Rolfe said finally, hoping his young mistress wouldn’t take offense, “She was nothing more than a dream, spun in my lord’s imagination and fed by the minstrel’s foolish songs. I doubt that she has acquired your skills, my lady.”

Kassia did not pretend to misunderstand him. “She is all that Graelam wants and admires, Rolfe. Nay, please do not look away from me. I must speak what is in my mind. He told me about her, of course, when I asked him. He spoke of her honor, of her honesty, and of her amazing skills as a warrior. In his eyes, Rolfe, I have none of those things. Perhaps if I acquire some skill, the other qualities will follow.” She lowered her head a moment and Rolfe saw her clench the reins tightly in her small hands. “I must do something!”

But not mold yourself into Lady Chandra’s elusive image, he thought. “In most of the men’s eyes, my lady, you are all that is good and honest and honorable. Very few believe that you betrayed Graelam.”

“He does,” she said harshly.

Rolfe said honestly, before he could stop himself, “He is a fool, particularly when it concerns a woman.”

“He is also my husband. If I cannot change his
thinking, it is likely that I will betray him and return to my father. I cannot bear the pain of it, you see.”

Rolfe sucked in his breath in anger. He wanted to demand if Graelam had beaten her, but he could not. Even speaking to her so honestly was improper.

“He knows great anger at me.” She gave him a sad smile. “I do not blame him for what he believes. Sometimes I wonder if I did not imagine it all.”

Rolfe looked between his horse’s ears, wishing yet again that he could beat some sense into his ruthless master’s head. To his surprise, he saw Graelam turn in his saddle, a look of suspicion narrowing his dark eyes. My God, Rolfe thought, startled, he is jealous! Of me, an old man! He thoughtfully chewed his lower lip. “My lady,” he said finally, smiling at her, “I will teach you.”

“Graelam must not know of it.”

“Nay, he will not know, not until you have the skill to impress him.”

“Thank you, Rolfe!” She gave him a radiant smile, and he was stunned at the pure sweet beauty of her face.

Rolfe waited now until she had shot her final arrow, then strode forward. He could see his breath in the still, cold air. Fallen leaves crunched under his booted feet. He worried that she would catch a fever, standing for so long in the silent winter afternoon. But he also knew that to say so would wipe the pleasure off her face. He said evenly, “You must hold your right arm more stiffly. Here, let me show you.”

He helped her until he felt the cold seep through his thick clothes. She must be freezing, he thought, and stepped back from her. “That is enough, my lady. My old bones need the warmth of a fire.”

“And some hot ale!” Kassia exclaimed happily. “For you too, Evian.”

Evian tucked her bow and the leather quiver beneath his arm, as if it were he who was practicing so faithfully. Rolfe had told him only that his lady’s practice was to be a surprise for Lord Graelam.

Kassia entered the great hall, a pleased smile still on her face. She drew up abruptly at the sight of Graelam, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her. He had returned the evening before from a visit to Crandall. He had not asked her to accompany him, and she had said nothing. It had given her nearly a week to practice without worrying if he would come upon her. She felt a deep, lurching pleasure as she stared at him. He looked vigorous, and splendidly male, his thick black hair tousled around his head. Her face became a careful blank at his harshly asked question.

“Where have you been?”

Her eyes fell. He had been so busy with Blount. It had not occurred to her that he would miss her, and she had practiced but an hour.

“Would you care for some mulled wine, my lord?” she asked carefully.

“What I would care for, my lady, is an answer from you.”

She raised her chin. “I was walking in the orchard.”

She saw the blatant distrust in his eyes, and hastened to add, “Evian was with me. I am thinking about planting some . . . pear trees in the spring.”

Graelam wondered why she was lying to him. Pear trees, for God’s sake! “Come and warm yourself,” he said, his voice roughening with concern. “Your nose is red with cold.”

She obeyed him willingly after she had given orders for some mulled wine.

“Sir Walter,” she said, relieved that Graelam did not question her further, “how fares he at Crandall?” It was difficult to keep the dislike from her voice.

“He is a bit overbearing with the peasants, but I doubt not that he will settle in.”

Kassia had hoped that Sir Walter would show his true colors to Graelam, but it appeared that he hadn’t yet. She said, “Did Blount show you the message from the Duke of Cornwall?”

“Aye, and it worries me. All his talk about growing old! One would think that with Edward safely on the throne, the duke would relax a bit and enjoy life.”

“He has no more responsibilities to keep him young. It would seem, as you have said, that once the heavy burdens are lifted, a man could enjoy his peace. But it is not so. Sometimes I think that Geoffrey and his threats of treachery keep my father healthy, though I pray it is not true.”

“Let us hope that your father has enough to keep him busy during the winter. If Geoffrey plans something, he will not execute it until spring.”

“How I pray that Geoffrey will forget his disappointment! I cannot bear the thought of Belleterre being threatened.” She moved closer to the huge fireplace and stared into the leaping flames. Her father and Belleterre had been the two constants in her life. Geoffrey had always seemed but a mild nuisance. Belleterre and her father were her refuge, even now, if Graelam no longer wanted her. Two tears spilled onto her cheeks and trailed quickly downward. She did not have the energy to brush them away.

“Stop crying,” Graelam said. “You are not a child, Kassia, and there is no reason to worry about Geoffrey.”

His tone sounded harsh and cruel to his own ears. Oddly enough, he understood vaguely what she was feeling. He cursed softly when she raised her face and looked at him with such hopelessness.

He gathered her into his arms, pressing her face against his warm tunic. “Hush,” he said more gently, his strong fingers kneading the taut muscles in her slender shoulders.

He felt a surge of desire for her. He well understood lust, but what he felt for Kassia was tempered with other emotions, deep, swirling emotions that he was loath to examine. Damn her, he thought, holding her more tightly. He had bedded several serving wenches during his stay at Crandall, hoping that the next one would give him release and wipe Kassia’s image from his mind. But after his stark passion had peaked and receded he had lain awake staring into the darkness even as the woman who had pleasured him lay sleeping blissfully beside him.

He felt the delicate bones in her shoulders, so fragile beneath his strong fingers. He closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of her. No other woman smelled like her, he thought somewhat foolishly. He lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against her soft hair. Lavender, he thought. She smells of lavender. His hands dropped lower, cupping her hips. He felt her stiffen. He gave a low, mocking laugh and pushed her away from him. His voice was a familiar taunt. “I will not take you here, my lady. Dry your tears and see to our evening meal.”