Forbidden Magic (15 page)

"Yes, Hertha," the first agreed, "but what harm is there in speaking of him?"

"I know of your careless ways," Hertha snapped. "Should he risk his life in coming here and you were to hear of it, you would seek a way to cast your eyes upon him."

"And I ask again, what harm is there? Dost thou think Sir Amery guilty of this crime that he would slay me for the simple fact that I stared?"

"Nay, Koren, I do not." The old woman sighed. "In truth, I pray he comes."

"But Hertha," another broke in, "Sir Radolf has proof of Sir Amery's evil deed."

"What proof, Judith?" Hertha barked. "Can any say they saw the one who stayed Lord Alcot? Nay, they cannot and I refuse to believe."

"And you are a sentimental old woman," Judith scorned. "How many years have passed since last you set your eyes upon him? Three? Four? He hath changed, Hertha. He is no longer friend to the people of Harcourt."

"And who art thou to judge?" Hertha railed. "I say him innocent and until I hear a confession from his own lips, no one will sway my thoughts on the matter. Now be still about it."

A moment of silence passed among the women as they gathered their buckets and rags from the ground where they had laid them while they rested, and Jewel felt a twinge of guilt that she had been so quick to charge her betrothed without giving him a say.

"You have known Sir Amery since he was a child, have you not, Hertha?" Koren asked weakly.

"Yea, child, I have. I watched him grow from a happy youngster to a troubled man, and each time I looked upon him I saw the image of his mother."

"Lady Sigrid?"

"Yea, Lady Sigrid. His hair held the color of the sun streaked through with shades of brown. But his eyes reminded me most of her, for they were pale green until his anger turned them a dark emerald. And yea, Koren, he is the most handsome man in all of England."

If the girl responded, Jewel was not aware of it, for the portrait the old woman's words had painted burned vividly in Jewel's mind with the pain, the shock, of discovery, and she slowly lifted her gaze to look upon the giant of a man staring back at her. With slow deliberation, he gallantly bowed before her, then rose to full height.

"At your service, Lady Jewel of Harcourt," he murmured.

Of a sudden, darkness swarmed around her, her head spun, and Jewel gave way to the sweet comfort of oblivion.

J
ewel stirred dreamily when the strong pair of arms gently laid her down on the straw mattress, and she murmured her objection to the cold, musty air that touched her face and sent a chill down her spine. Drowsily, she wondered why the fire in her chambers had been allowed to go out. Bernia, her serving maid, had never been so careless before, and as soon as she rested a while, she would talk to her about it. Shifting more comfortably, she lazily opened one eye and a confused frown marred her lovely brow when she failed to recognize her surroundings. She lay unmoving for a moment, collecting her thoughts and struggling to remember, when the startling, awful truth began to surface, slowly bringing her out of her fog in a whirlwind of emotions. A noise near the hearth jerked her attention to it and she bolted upright in the bed when she saw a broad back and muscular arms moving in graceful splendor as Amery stoked the fire. A loathing beyond all imagination exploded within her.

"You are the lowest of crawling vermin, Sir Amery of Wellington, not fit to be called a man," she hissed, trembling in spite of her words.

Almost casually, as if accustomed to such a comparison, he stacked the final piece of wood on the burning logs, dusted off his hands, and rose, turning slightly to look at her as he leaned a wide shoulder against the mantel. "But a man just the same," he said without a smile, his gaze raking her from slender foot to tousled auburn hair.

Jewel's cheeks grew hot and flushed under his regard as though he had stripped her naked with his eyes. With great effort she found her voice. "What kind of man would strike down women and children?" Tears stung her eyes as she thought of little William.

He studied her a moment, then said, "No man at all but a coward who would seek the shadows to hide his face." "Or the robe of a priest," she railed accusingly. His sun-darkened cheek wrinkled with his half smile as he silently appraised her, for he felt no desire to explain.

"Where's Leta?" she demanded when the silence seemed to echo in her ears.

"She was left behind," he said dryly. "And what dost thou intend for me, sir knight?" she posed carelessly. "Wilt thou slay me for one who stands in your way?"

Jewel started apprehensively when he straightened to untie the strings of his frock and cast it aside, and she wondered what slow torture he had in mind. Watching him closely, she guardedly came to her knees, ready to fend him off should he advance a step further.

"Like my half brother, I have need of you, Lady Jewel," he stated, crossing to the crude table in the center of the room. Easing his huge frame into a chair that seemed better fit for a child, he rested back, crossed one ankle to his knee, and dangled a wrist across it, staring coldly at her.

The soft glow from the hearth bathed his face in a warm light, enhancing his rugged features and deft chin but failing to temper the hatred Jewel saw shining in his eyes, and she wondered at its cause. She had lived her life under the loving rule of her father, pledging her commitment to a man she did not know, and had never strayed from that oath in mind or body. Yet the callousness she saw reflected in his eyes hinted of disbelief. Forcing down the lump in her throat, she looked away. Was it of any importance whether or not he thought her faithful? He had raped her and murdered her family, and by the grace of God, she would see him punished.

The penetrating silence unnerved her and she glanced up to return his malevolent glare, noticing for the first time that he had shed his armor and sword, though he looked none the less dangerous garbed in the simple leather tunic. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest and although she wished it, she could not still that strange stirring in her blood when she looked upon him. She twisted nervously in the bed and studied the interior of the room.

"Where have you taken me?" she asked, her tone lacking the strength she had hoped to convey. When he failed to answer, she reluctantly looked back at him. He sat unmoving, his wide chest barely revealing the breaths he took, and Jewel squirmed under his unrelenting consideration. "What do you want of me? You've murdered my family; what more can I give?"

"Tsk, tsk," he mocked with a shake of his tawny head. "The peasant woman in the hamlet has more faith than my own betrothed."

"I am not!" she protested hotly. "I would join my family before I would speak the vows. Nay! I will never marry you!"

His wide shoulders lifted with his shrug. "Then we agree on one point. Twas not my intention to stand before the altar with you or any woman."

His cold admission cut to the core of her being, yet she could not fathom why when it had been her desire as well. Her lower lip quivered, her tears surfaced, and before she could stop the question from spilling forth, she asked weakly, "Even after you had learned the identity of the woman at the inn?"

Amery laughed shortly. "Do you think there have not been others before you? You served my need at the moment, 'twas all. I will not be chained in wedlock because I bedded a wench, so do not fault yourself overmuch."

Jewel's anger flared, for her pride had been sorely injured. '"Tis you whose head has swollen. Though there are many who showed jealousy when the name of my betrothed was given, an equal share held pity in their hearts for me. You are no prize, Sir Amery of Wellington." Unsatisfied, she chose a different course. "I knew Lord Ryland well, a kind and gentle soul, and since the rumors flowed that your mother had many lovers, I wonder now if you can truly call him father." Resting back on her heels, she crossed her arms over her chest, pleased with her foolish accusation until she saw the color of his eyes turn the shade of emerald. Her courage fled.

"Hadst thou truly known Lord Ryland," he began, his voice low, "thou wouldst have called him weak, for he let his thoughts be guided by a woman." The smile he gave her seemed closer to a sneer. "'Tis a trait to which I make no churn."

"Because he loved her," Jewel argued faintly.

"Love?" he challenged. "The woman cast a spell on him, blinded him to reasoning. He held no love in his heart.... not even for his son!"

Jewel saw the pain reflected in his eyes before he turned them away to gaze into the fire, and for a moment she felt pity for the child of years ago. Her life had been blessed with the love of two adoring parents while he had sought the tiniest morsel from one. Had they lived each other's youths, would she have felt the same? Perhaps, but she doubted she would have grown so callous as to slay a gallant knight whose sword had been put away. Her sorrow at stirring unpleasant memories vanished when her own arose.

"Dost thou plan to seek a ransom from Radolf for my return?" she ventured dispassionately.

His gaze never leaving the bright flames in the hearth, Amery smiled crookedly. "All that Radolf has is mine. 'Twould be foolish to demand payment with money that already belongs to me."

"Then what?"

"You shall be the prize, little one, but not one for exchange. I learned long ago of his love for you and now that love will be his downfall. He will search for you and when we meet on even ground without his knights at his back, he will feel the edge of my sword." He grew quiet a moment, then added, "And besides, I rather enjoyed the feel of you beneath me and shall sample your charms again whenever it is my want." Leisurely, he peered over at her, chuckling at the frightened look in her eyes. "Where is thy tongue now, my sweet?" he beckoned playfully.

Every muscle in Jewel's body tightened as she remembered all too clearly the strength the man had possessed in subduing her the night before. She would be no match, a helpless victim to his desires each and every time he willed it, and she knew her only hope would be to escape him. Frantic, she carelessly glanced at the door, mentally calculating the time it would take her to reach it. But Amery had expected as much and when Jewel sprang from the narrow pallet, he bolted to his feet, swept the table from his path with a powerful swing of his arm, and caught her around the waist before she had covered half the measured steps.

"Nay! Unhand me," she screamed when he crushed her to his chest, her arms and legs thrashing wildly.

She fought to loosen his grasp, digging her nails into the fingers that so effortlessly held her, pounding a tiny fist against his shoulder, straining to push him away, but all failed. He chuckled at her fury and when she raised a hand to strike his face, he easily trapped her wrist in an iron grip, twisting her arm behind her as he slowly set her down. Jewel could feel every inch of hard muscle in his massive frame against her own slender form, knowing with certainty he could break her if he wanted, and she trembled fearfully that he might when his hand moved to the back of her head. She closed her eyes, praying her death would come swiftly, and hung limp in his arms. But to her surprise, Amery's mouth swooped down upon hers, stealing her breath away and fanning a long-hidden spark of passion within her that she had never known existed. It started in the pit of her stomach and spread upward, revolving, growing, until her flesh burned with the sensation. Her mind whirled as a mixture of loathing and pleasure scrambled into one, confusing her, and Jewel thought she would swoon from the sheer ecstasy of his embrace. She relaxed in his arms, her own slowly moving upward to encircle his neck as she savored the feel of his lips upon hers, the taste of him, the tenderness he expressed, and she returned the kiss with equal ardor.

Amery released her abruptly, his handsome face showing no emotion of any kind, and Jewel's flamed with her embarrassment, for she was shocked that he could so easily arouse such desire in her and all the while seem unaffected. He could not have shamed her more if he had stripped her for the world to see.

"Tell me, little one, do my half brother's kisses excite you"

Jewel opened her mouth to set him back a step by claiming the statement true, then thought better of it. This was no lovestruck lad begging for her attention, fighting to mask his jealousy. He mocked her. He wanted her to deny the feelings that shone clearly in her eyes. Well, she would not allow him the satisfaction, for whether she answered yea or nay, he would enjoy a victory on either count.

"Your half brother, sir, is a gallant knight," she replied instead.

Amery threw back his tawny head and roared his laughter. "Who hides behind his mother's skirts? Nay, Lady Jewel, he is not. And in time you will come to learn his true nature."

"As I have already learned yours?" she returned flippantly.

The smile lingered, "Nay, only part of mine. There is a side to me few know and a great many surprises yet to come." His green eyes darkened. "Now sit thee down and do not stir. I will not be as gentle if you seek your freedom again."

"Then kill me now, oh gallant knight," she jeered, "and save yourself the effort, for at every turn I will endeavor to escape you.

"Death will not be your punishment," he stated simply, lifting a coppery curl resting against her breast and sampling its silky texture between a thumb and finger. "Methinks there are more pleasant ways to tame a shrew."

His meaning was clear and her understanding showed unmistakably in her eyes. Frightened that he might use any minor excuse to carry out his threat, she quickly backed away and returned to the pallet, sitting down on the edge and preparing for any sudden move he might make. He studied her only a short while before he went to the single window in the hut and looked outside, and Jewel noticed how he moved with graceful ease, his strong muscles supporting his large frame, yet he could be ready at a moment's warning to defend himself. Jewel had no doubt that this man could rise triumphant in any battle, whether wielding his sword of steel or striking a blow with his fist. Though her father was not of small stature, she suspected that even in his younger days, if he were to have met this man on the field of battle, he too might have fallen victim to this mightier foe. Jewel's throat tightened with her venturous musings. Indeed, Lord Alcot had met the man dressed in full armor white the elder's hands had been empty, and her shame mounted tenfold that she could feel anything for this knight other than hatred. Silently, she cursed her lack of courage when her father's had held true to the end. Were they not of the same blood? Her eyes shifted to the wood pile stacked beside the fireplace. Had the events fallen differently and had it been her life this knight had taken, would her father not have avenged her death? Cautiously, she looked upon the one near the window. Yea, she decided, and without a thought to consequence. Her delicate chin rose and all reasoning fled her. Mayhap he Would kill her if the blow she dealt him missed the mark, but in her death she would find a greater peace knowing she had tried.

With the stealth of a night creature stalking its prey amid the shadows, her eyes affixed to the tall, threatening form staring out into the blackness, Jewel left the narrow pallet and moved toward the hearth. It was her intent to seize the thickest log from the pile, steal across the room, and strike the unsuspecting warrior while his back was turned. Then, Cod willing, she would pierce his heart with the sharp-edged blade of his own dagger and know the sweet taste of revenge.

Her tiny hands trembled as she bent to cull her weapon. Her heart pounded in her ears, and for a moment she hesitated. Her nature was gentle, and the mission she had chosen would take more than simple courage. It meant she must abandon her belief that all life upon the earth was precious. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut—just as her father's had been. Gripping the rough piece of wood in both hands, she stood erect, let out a breathless sigh, and turned to face her enemy.

The pale light from the hearth cast a soft yellow glow through the small window, which fell upon the ground just outside, and Amery studied it awhile before he lifted his eyes to the shadows of the woods surrounding the tiny hut. He looked, but he did not see, for his thoughts were on a different place and time. In his mind's eye, he saw a young boy with golden hair and green eyes standing beside his father as the elder listened to the problems of his people. He remembered the pride even that small child felt for the man who ruled Wellington fairly and with gentle hand. Times had been good then, and he had often heard his father laugh. Then another had stepped between them, and Amery's eyes darkened as he thought of Lady Edlyn. She had been sweet and loving toward her stepson at first, and although reluctant in the beginning to share his father with this woman, the young boy had learned to love her. But that joy had been short-lived. Within the first year, his father and stepmother had begun to argue. After Radolf was born, it had worsened, and the young Amery had watched his father withdraw into a silent, weak-willed image of what he had once been. Amery had rebelled because of it, and that was when Edlyn had turned on him. If it had not been for