Forbidden Magic (21 page)

Amery's anger had dissolved the moment he had kissed those tempting lips, felt the warmth of her body, the smoothness of her silken skin. He had thought to force her to ' his will, to take what he so wildly craved, but once she began responding with equal passion, he held back, suspicious. What sort of game did she play? Did she hope to trick him? Had she thought to sway his intent by acting falsely? The firelight flickered caressingly over them, and suddenly it did not matter why. He wanted her as he had never wanted another woman.

A magic exploded within Jewel when Amery came to her then, a frenzy of wild abandon coursing through her, and she raised her hips to match his ardor. They moved as one, soaring on the wings of endless time to heights beyond imagining. Jewel clung frantically, oddly praying the moment would never end, her body molded against his in perfect harmony. She could feel the thunderous beating of his heart against her naked breast, hear his ragged breathing, and she marveled at her own shamelessness. He moved deeper, faster, and Jewel thought she had been swept away in blissful ecstasy when at last his passion reached its fullest height and he fell exhausted at her side.

Cradled in his arm, she traced the outline of the rigid muscles across his wide chest, content in his protection and failing to see the smile that touched his lips.

"Your game is most amusing, little one," he chuckled.

The delicious warmth of their Iovemaking cooled instantly. Struggling, Jewel pushed up on one elbow to look at him.

"I had imagined, however, that you would be coy enough to hide it more artfully than the others," he continued, stretching lazily.

"What do you mean?" she asked, reaching for the thin coverlet at the foot of the bed as Amery left her to don his clothes.

"But I must admit, you are the liveliest vixen I've bedded in a long while." He laughed as he pulled the tunic down over his huge frame. "Except, perhaps, the damsel I found in the inn."

Jewel's face flamed with her rage and tears stung her eyes. The blanket clutched beneath her chin, she curled her feet under her and rose up on her knees, her chest heaving with her {invoiced denial. Yet no words would pass her lips, for the shame, the hurt she experienced, was too overpowering to express in simple verse. Instead, she held back, biting her lower lip to still her tears, and silently watched as Amery fastened the last of his garments and started for the door. The emerald eyes that looked back at her stole her breath away.

"Whore or lady," he stated coldly. "I see no difference."

The dull thud of the door swinging quietly shut exploded in the tiny room.

T
he dark, icy fingers of eventide gripped Wellington Castle and settled possessively about the land, spreading their bitter chill across the fields and huts. Smoke from the chimneys curled defiantly upward as blazes in hearths had been started in a gallant protest to the cold. The day's toil having been completed, the serfs now sought the protection of their simple dwellings and a meager sampling of food, knowing the morrow would dawn as any other and their work would begin again. Yet they would set about their tasks with heavy heart, for since their lord's death, they had whispered among themselves of Sir Amery's return and the just hand that would rule them once more. Now it would never come to be. Their uneventful lives would be filled with hardships and cruelty under the reign of Lady Edlyn, for their hearts and minds had been poisoned against the true lord of Wellington and they no longer held any hope.

The thunderous roar of pounding hooves against the hard earth sent them fleeing to the darkened corners of their homes. None were brave enough to look upon the army of knights that descended upon the castle or see the murderous frown that crimped their leader's brow. Had any stood in their way, such fools would have been crushed beneath the mighty hooves of the destriers charging the gates, a yellow beacon of torch light marking their way. Radolf and his men had returned.

A shout rang out from high atop the watchtower and before the men had reached the drawbridge, pulley chains began clanking loudly as they lifted the portcullis and opened the way into the castle. One by one the warriors advanced, filing into the courtyard where they dismounted in haste and awaited further orders from their lord, only to exchange curious glances when Radolf turned away from them dismissingly to enter the manor house without a word. The journey home had been made in silence, yet many suspected the troubles that plagued their lord, for word of Lady Jewel's disappearance had spread quickly among the serfs of Harcourt, leaving the knights to wonder at their leader's decision to return to the castle rather than hunt down the one responsible. Could it be that Radolf truly feared his half brother as many had whispered he did?

A cold rush of wind swept through the great hall when the wide oak door was thrown open and Radolf entered, his brow twisted with anger. Peasant women scurried out of his path, certain he would run them down without a care, and they stared wide-eyed as he removed his armor and hurled it down upon a table.

"Bring me ale, woman!" he bellowed at the one nearest him, then crossed to the hearth, where he stood glaring into the blaze, the muscle in his cheek flexing-repeatedly.

The woman ordered to fetch his drink did so quickly, then timidly she held out the horn for him to take, shrinking back in alarm when he briskly snatched it from her, his dark eyes sweeping over her as though even her presence upset him. Raising it to his lips, he drank long and hard, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he had finished and concentrating on the fire once more, his mood dark and ominous. A silence filled the hall, for those present dared not move, certain of his wrath should his attention be drawn to them. Many held their breath while others looked nervously about the room as if seeking some reprieve, and most jumped with a start when a door to one of the upstairs chambers banged shut, bringing all eyes upon the one who challenged the lord's solitude. Lady Edlyn's thin frame graced the landing at the top of the stairs as flickering light from the torches fell softly on the pastel blue of her damask gunna.

"Radolf?" her high-pitched voice called out. "Radolf, is that you?"

Radolf heaved an irritated sigh and took a second drink before turning to face her. "Yes, Mother. 'Tis I."

A pleased smile deepened the vague lines around her mouth as she descended the stairs and crossed the room to him. Arms extended, she pulled him into her embrace and placed a gentle kiss upon his cheek, frowning when he received her affection somewhat stiffly. "Art thou troubled, my son? I see no happiness on your face."

Ignoring her question, he raised the horn again only to find it empty. Dark eyes lifted in an angry glare to fall upon the one who had served him earlier. "Fill it," he demanded in a growl, shoving it in the woman's hands when she stepped forward to do his bidding. His gaze never left her as she fearfully set about her task, and when she returned, he roughly took the horn from her trembling fingers and hissed, "Bring food. My men have traveled long and need to fill their bellies."

"Yea, m'lord," the peasant woman mumbled, eyes averted as she quickly backed away before turning to the others to see his wish fulfilled.

Radolf absently watched the serfs as they hurried about the hall preparing the tables for the feast, and a long while passed before he sensed the attention someone was giving him. Only his eyes moved to the source and he quickly looked away once he saw the suspicious frown on Lady Edlyn's face. Without comment, he took a long drink of his ale and returned it to the hearth.

"It has not gone as planned," he heard his mother state, and inwardly he cringed at the sound of her voice. For as long as he could remember he had feared her anger, though she had never raised a hand to strike him even as a child. He often wondered exactly what had instilled such an emotion— especially now that he was a man and a full head taller than she. If it had been his want, he could have smashed her skull with one blow of his fist. Chuckling, he looked at the clenched fingers of his right hand, knowing that if he ever raised it against her, he would only tremble before her, too frightened to mete out the punishment he felt she deserved.

"Nay, Mother," he said aloud, "it has not gone as planned."

A woman of two score and three years, Lady Edlyn defied her age. Her entire life had been dedicated to pampering herself, to retaining her youthful figure and hiding the lines that marred her fair complexion. Yet when her temper soared, as it did now, her true nature revealed itself in the vindictive knot of her brow and the evil twist of her mouth, and no amount of fine clothes or jewels could conceal it. To those who listened, her tone belied the fiendish vein in which her thoughts ran, for a smile always graced her lips though the words were razor sharp. Many likened Lady Edlyn to a deadly spider spinning a web of hypnotizing beauty that would encase her victim as she tempted it nearer, and once trapped, render it helpless in fending off the poisonous bite of her revenge. Many withered and died. The rest became spineless pawns in her quest for supremacy.

"Enlighten me, Radolf," she instructed calmly, one brow raised in well-defined impatience.

Light brown eyes glanced up hatefully at her, then back at the fire. "Amery has come," he breathed before sampling the ale again.

Lifting a delicately boned hand to the stray tendril of hair at the nape of her neck, Lady Edlyn furtively surveyed the room to ensure their privacy. "Of course he has, Radolf. I wouldn't have sent you to Harcourt if we hadn't known of his return. 'Twas part of the plan. How could he have been blamed if he still marched beside his king?"

The rugged lines of Radolf's mouth crimped with his half smile." 'Tis confusing, Mother," he said with a laugh, "for I do not know which I find more pleasurable—bringing about the destruction of my half brother or defying you."

"Defy—?" Gray eyes narrowed. "What dost thou mean?"

Radolf could only blame his courage on the bolstering effect of the ale he had consumed, for he would have held his tongue at any other time. But whatever the reason, he found that he enjoyed the sense of power over her that he now experienced and reveled in the thought of bestowing the distressful news that he had gone against her orders. Straightening, he saluted her with the horn he held and casually went to the chair near the fireplace and sat down, stretching out his long legs in front of him as if it weren't his mother he addressed but a lowly peasant girl.

"I mean, Mother," he began with a cocky, air, "that Lady Jewel was spared." He grinned at the shocked expression that hardened Lady Edlyn's face, wondering if the breath she had just taken would be her last, for it seemed quite painful for her to draw another.

"S. .. spared?" Her entire body trembled with her rage. "You allowed it?"

"Yea, my dear," he nodded arrogantly. "Twas my plan all along, for, you see, I intend to marry her."

The color drained from Edlyn's face as she clasped both hands to her chest. "But. . . but you can't. She's .. . she's ..."

"She's what, Mother? Amery's betrothed? Not any longer," he replied, watching her stumble to a, chair and numbly ease herself into it. "I've taken care of that." Pleased with himself, and feeling in full control, he rested one elbow on the arm of the chair and cradled his chin in the palm. "With all your scheming, you failed to verify the whereabouts of all of Lord Alcot's family. I, on the other hand, did not. I knew Lady Jewel was in London and would not return until her marriage to Amery. Therefore it made it quite simple to spare her life and fool her as easily as I have everyone else. She hates Amery nearly as much as I, Mother, and will do everything in her power to see him punished." Lifting the horn to his lips, he studied her over the rim, his confident smile fading once her angry glare settled on him.

"You fool," she ground out through clenched teeth, "You could have had Harcourt without marrying her. Now we'll have to find a way to dispose of her too." Her gaze quickly took in the hall. "Where's Kennard?"

"Hold, Mother!" Radolf stormed, bolting to his feet and knocking the chair to the floor. "You forget who is lord here!"

Enraged by her son's outburst, Edlyn's narrow frame stiffened and she slowly came to her feet before him. "And you forget who made it so," she hissed. " Twas I who poisoned Ryland and thought of a way for you to own his land as well as Harcourt. I have risked much to achieve it and will not stand aside and watch you destroy it. Jewel must die!"

A quiet calm settled over Radolf as he stared at her. "Then, dear Mother, thou shalt have to mount a horse and pray the nag can lead the way to her, for, you see, as I said before, Amery has come."

"Amery?" she snapped, her patience thin. "What hath he to do with it?"

Dark brows lifted mockingly. "Thou canst not guess, oh scheming one? Amery has taken Jewel from Harcourt and fled with no marks upon the earth to guide us."

Edlyn's fair brow wrinkled briefly before she turned from him with a devious smile pursing her thin lips. "Tis better than I hoped," she murmured. "The child will not last a week with him. He will not hesitate to kill her if she angers him in the slightest, and therefore he will save us all a lot of trouble."

Radolf's ill-fed humor fled quickly with his mother's chum. "Kill her?" he spouted. "Nay, he would not." With a dismissing shake of his head, he went to a nearby table and refilled the horn with ale, downing nearly all of it before turning back to face Edlyn. "She was his betrothed. He would not kill her."

The faint lines at the corners of her eyes deepened with her sardonic smite. "Hast thou forgotten his hatred of women, my son? Ha has little patience for them. If Jewel thinks him guilty of her family's death and voices her belief even once, he will rid himself of her annoying presence. And why not? She would only be a thorn in his side." Her smile faded with her sigh as she came to stand before her son, lifting a hand to gently touch his cheek. "Tis for the best, Radolf," she whispered sympathetically.

Radolf's eyes glistened with tears of rage and his body trembled as he thought of his well-plotted chart gone awry, and is an explosion of temper he slapped the caressing hand away. "He will not kill her, Mother," he snarled. "I will not let it happen. My blade will pierce his heart and split him asunder, and I shall spit upon his grave. Jewel is mine and, by God, no one will stand in my way." Nostrils flaring, he leaned closer. "Not... even ... you." Straightening sharply, he hurled the drinking horn at the hearth and spun around. Gathering his armor from the table where he had thrown it, he stormed through the door.

"Radolf!" Lady Edlyn shouted furiously. "Radolf, I forbid you to leave."

With the sudden outburst of harsh words between the lord of the castle and his mother, every serf paused in his task to stare in curious wonderment. Not even Lord Ryland had ever raised his voice to Lady Edlyn or gone against her wishes, and the young Radolf had always quaked in her presence. To witness his open defiance of her orders brought a new respect for the lord and a fleeting hope that mercy would prevail under a gentler hand. Huddling together at the far corners of the hall, they watched in fearful silence as Radolf came to an abrupt halt and slowly turned to face Lady Edlyn, a rancorous gleam in his amber eyes.

"Spill thy words on ears of those who will listen," he growled, glaring at her through lowered brows. "Order the servants about, but do not waste thy breath on me. I am lord of Wellington, so tread lightly where I am concerned lest you find yourself upon the road." In a dark rage, he turned and stalked from the room.

Edlyn stood paralyzed, her chest heaving as she glowered at the empty doorway, a cold wisp of wind rustling her skirts. How dare he disobey her? She had worked too long, too hard, to achieve her goals, and he would not ruin them now over a foolish notion to possess a woman he could not have. 'Twas not her intent to share but to have it all, with Radolf by her side. She would rule Wellington and Harcourt as well, and lay to rest any doubt as to who truly wielded the power over serfs and knights alike. Her gray eyes narrowed as she studied the black aperture that had seemingly swallowed up her son. Jewel would die. It had been the plan all along. Lord Alcot and his family would perish and she would reign over the lands that should have been hers more than a score of years ago. In a quiet calm, she moved toward the door, touched her fingertips to it, and watched it slowly swing shut, a shrewd smile twisting her mouth.

"Dena," she called, turning back to survey the room and single out the one beckoned. "Find Ian and bring him to my chambers."

"Yea, m'lady." The servant girl curtsied and quickly backed away, head bowed, to allow the lady of the manor to pass.

With an arrogant flip of her skirts clutched in one hand, Edlyn started for the stairs, confident that her trusted knight, Ian, would execute her orders in haste and without comment. He would find Jewel and lead Radolf to the place where she had been buried. Then, and only then, would Radolf truly realize the black depths of her revenge.