Forbidden Magic (30 page)

Suddenly his mouth came down hard upon hers and he bent a knee against the bed, lowering them both upon its softness. His hands moved quickly, stripping the kirtle from her and freeing the full, ripe breasts for him to sample. Jewel cried out in terror, begging him to stop when he trailed kisses down her throat, then captured a rose-hued peak, searing her flesh in a consuming wave of passion. Her own began to soar and she squeezed her eyes shut when his hand greedily explored the bareness of her hip and thigh, and she trembled beneath his caress.

He left her only briefly to shed his garments and in that moment Jewel wondered at his confession. What had he meant that he cursed the night he found her? If he hated her so much, why didn't he let hep go? Why did he continue to torture her? A tear stole between her lashes. What power made her welcome his touch, then cower beneath his scorn? Shame flooded over her, yet when he came to her again and pressed his body next to hers, it set her blood on fire and a wild ecstasy exploded within her. Bewitched, she opened her arms and drew him to her, lips parted in eager acceptance of his kiss. Their bodies meshed and moved as one, tenderly, breathlessly, and nothing else seemed to matter but this one exquisite moment of desire.

For both the blissful interlude ended too quickly as the sounds of laughter floating up from the great hall below lessened the fury of their passion. Exhausted, Amery fell back against the mound of pelts beneath them and stared up silently at the ceiling, a frown creasing his rugged brow. Covertly, Jewel watched him, wondering what thoughts beset him. Could it possibly be remorse that haunted him? Nay. Twould not trouble him that he had taken her against her will. Or had he? Jewel's gaze lowered to her nakedness that still glowed warmly from their lovemaking and her eyes filled with tears. She was truly no better than a whore, for she had not fought him. He had done as he had said he could. A simple caress had stirred the lust she foolishly denied lay hidden within her. But could any have aroused it? she wondered sullenly. Or was it this man alone who had the prowess to awaken such reckless desires? Suddenly she felt his weight move against the bed and she glanced up, startled that be sought to begin again, and met the same surprised look on his face. But it quickly vanished when a smile twinkled in his green eyes and spread across his face.

"Rest your fears, little one," he told her with a grin. "The beast has had his fill."

Effortlessly, he swung his feet to the floor and strode to where he had left his clothes, and Jewel could not pull her gaze away from the sleek muscles of his broad back, firm waist, and taut thighs, which carried his huge frame so proudly. Her pulse quickened as she wickedly feasted on his magnificent form, then cast her eyes away when his own caught sight of the way she stared. His laughter echoed loudly in her ears, bringing a crimson flush to her cheeks, and her anger rose that he would taunt her so. With nettled jerks, she covered herself with the fur pelts surrounding her and silently fumed while be dressed.

Resting her chin on knees hugged tightly to her, she forced herself to stare straight ahead and thus failed to see him approach. She jumped with a start when she felt him gently lift the thick braid of auburn hair to test its silkiness in the palm of his hand. Fire flashed in her eyes, for she was ready to fight him to the death were he to have a change of heart and think to sate his lust once more. But the distant look in his eyes aroused her curiosity and she remained still, waiting.

"Lady Jewel of Harcourt," he whispered absently, studying the richness of the coppery strands, "had things only been different..."

Jewel sat unmoving, the fine arch of her brows wrinkled in confusion as she watched him turn without another word and walk toward the door, his wide shoulders drooping slightly, as if he carried a great weight upon them. Without a backward glance, he lifted the latch and left the room.

* * *

Voices sounded in the hall below and Jewel turned her attention from the fire, where she had spent the last two hours since Amery had gone, to listen, wondering what might be the cause of their excitement. When the muted chatter grew in volume, she left her chair and crossed to the door, pausing to smooth the wrinkles from her gunna. She intended only to open it and peer outside for a clue to everyone's gaiety. But before she had touched the latch, an exuberant rapping nearly rattled the portal from its hinges and Aselma's young voice called out to her. Jewel bade her enter and stood back in surprise as a host of people followed the maid inside.

There were servants bearing cloth of silk and linen, wool and velvet, in every color of the rainbow, and women with threads and scissors, and fur and braid trimmings. In the midst of them all stood a thick-girthed man Jewel guessed to be the tailor who, without a word, took her hand and led her to a stool he positioned in the middle of the room. There he helped her to step upon it and busily began to take her measurements with the cords he had draped across his shoulders, then turned to issue instructions to the seamstresses. The room, seemed to hum with activity as each performed his duty, the long bolts of cloth were spread out to cut, and fur strips were selected to adorn the gowns.

Jewel could only stand where she was told as nimble fingers tucked and measured seams, and held first one piece of fabric then another, beneath her chin in a hurried attempt to choose which color looked best with her auburn hair and amber eyes. And for each gown that was made, slippers were cut and sewn to match. Hie afternoon wore on and no one tired of their chores, for their mistress promised to enhance their work as no other before her.

"Which wilt thou choose to wear this eve?" Aselma asked when Jewel was finally allowed to sit again.

"Oh, Aselma," Jewel moaned, tears glistening in her eyes, for she had never expected Lady Anne to be so generous. Pressing her fingertips to her mouth, she studied each and every one laid out across the bed as the women quickly gathered scraps of cloth from the floor where they had fallen, collected their tools, and happily followed the tailor from the room. " Tis a choice I will find difficult to make. They are all beautiful and none more so than the others. I fear I will do none of them justice."

"Nonsense," Aselma argued with a laugh and crossed to the bed filled with the harvest of an afternoon well spent. "If I were to choose, it would be this." She lifted an emerald green linen garnished with, a wide braid of soft mint beneath the gathered bosom and across the low neckline. "'Twill compliment your hair. And I have a most fitting way to fix it. Oh"—she grinned back at Jewel—"thou wilt be the envy of all in Burchard."

"Then I shall not stand in your way, Aselma." Jewel laughed, coming to her feet. "Where do we begin?"

Returning the gown to its former place, the young maid whirled excitedly toward Jewel. "First we must let down your hair and brush the shine back into it. Then we'll pile it atop your head and adorn it with ribbons. You'll look as if you're going to see the dowager queen."

Aselma's happiness was infectious, though Jewel could not disclaim her own delight over Anne's extravagant gift, and she eagerly allowed the serving girl to help her disrobe and take the braid from her hair. A half hour later, Jewel was seated on the edge of the bed sliding her feet into the mint-colored slippers that had been made especially for the gown Aselma had chosen, the auburn locks of hair arranged perfectly, and light green ribbons entwined within them.

"Well?" Jewel asked, rising to twirl before the maid, yards of emerald cloth billowing out from her narrow waistline. "Dost thou approve?"

"Yea, m'lady." Aselma sighed. "Thou art the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." Suddenly her face whitened and she glanced over at the door nervously. "Oh, m'lady, please do not tell Lady Anne what my careless tongue has spilled. I mean her no disrespect."

"And I'm sure you misjudge her," Jewel said comfortingly. "Lady Anne is not'the sort to let vain thoughts fill her head. She would not take offense."

"Yea," Aselma readily agreed, readjusting a ribbon in Jewel's hair. "Unlike Lady Mertice."

"Lady Mertice?"

"Yea, m'lady. Lord Gunther's sister."

Jewel's brow knit. "But I have not met Lady Mertice."

"Oh, 'tis because she is not here, ray lady. There has been thieving in our hamlets and robbers prowl the roads of late. Lady Mertice has gone to London to live for a time. But I think"—she glanced at the closed door again—"I think she goes only to find herself a knight to wed."

"To find one?" Jewel repeated.

"Yea, Lady Jewel, it's the only way she will ever stand before the altar again." Aselma's nose wrinkled disdainfully. "I pray he is deaf. 'Tis the only way he could escape listening to her constant nagging."

"Aselma," Jewel said with a laugh, "thou makest her sound as if she were a—"

"Yea," she replied, cutting her off, "she is. Her first husband died and many of us think he marched into battle without his sword just to bring an end to his existence." She let out' a long sigh. "It has been so peaceful with her gone. Everyone has said a prayer that someone falls into her trap and she will stay in London."

"And what of Sir Gunther?" Jewel asked, hiding her smile. "What doth he think?"

"Sir Gunther has been gone these past three years. He doth not know how cruel his sister has become. And Lady Anne would not tell him. She is too kind." Aselma shook her head and smoothed a wrinkle from Jewel's skirt. "If Lady Anne had not been here to soothe the other's sharp words, many of us would have endured great wounds at her expense. But come"—she smiled brightly in a sudden change of mood—"let us talk no more of Lady Mertice and show the rest what has taken us all afternoon."

Crossing to the door with her, Jewel paused when they reached it. "Thank you, Aselma," she said; smiling softly. "For everything. Thou hast made me forget my sorrow for a time and lightened my heart with your gaiety";"

Blushing, Aselma shrugged. "Some say I talk too much."

"Then they are envious," Jewel said with a nod of her head. "And I say I am fortunate to have found a friend like you. We can be friends, can't we, Aselma?"

The serving girl's brown eyes widened, then gleamed with pleasure. "Oh, yea, m'lady. Twould be an honor."

"Then come with me. I want to thank Lady Anne properly and make certain she knows thou art responsible for the finished me." Taking the young woman's hand, Jewel opened the door before Aselma could protest too much and led her companion toward the stairs.

They had nearly reached the bottom when the huge oak door of the great hall swung wide and a cold draft of wind assailed all within the room. Gunther, dressed in full armor, preceded the rest, followed closely by Amery, Rickward, Stafford, and Hadwin, and all were clothed in a similar manner to that of the lord of Burchard.

"Has there been trouble?" Jewel asked in alarm.

"Nay, not at present," Aselma assured her. "The eve before you arrived one of the hamlets was attacked and several houses burned. M'lord has gone to inspect the damage, 'tis all."

"Dost thou know who it was?"

"Yea. Sir Orton of Terrell. His lands share this island. He and Lord Gunther have been enemies for a long time." Turning to face her, Aselma begged, "If thou wilt grant my leave, Lady Jewel, I am needed in the kitchen. The men will want food."

"Yea, Aselma, of course." Jewel nodded, her attention centered on the knights crowded near the hearth to ease the chill of their long ride.

Though Gunther and his' men were tall and broad shouldered, Amery seemed to tower above them all, his blond hair gleaming in the firelight once he had removed his helm and pulled the coif from his head. Jewel lingered near the foot of the staircase covertly watching him, for he had yet to look up and notice her since he appeared preoccupied in removing his mantle, gauntlets, and sword. He stood with his profile to her and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she recalled the thick muscles of his wide chest now hidden beneath the sleeveless leather tunic. Absently she raised the fingertips of one hand to her lips, vividly recalling the warmth of his mouth pressed to hers, the way his tongue had explored inside, and even at this moment she experienced the same tingle of excitement coursing through her as she had then. Hugging her arms to her, she suddenly felt the need to be enveloped in his embrace, and she wondered at the ambivalence of it.

"Methinks Orion's men will not be so quick to step on Burchard lands again," Rickward declared with a laugh as he stood before the hearth rubbing his hands together.

"Yea," Stafford agreed, turning to Amery. "My friend, thou swingest a mighty sword." He reached out to slap his companion on the shoulder, then retreated sharply, his hand held in midair, his face crimping in surprise as if what he saw displeased him. "Good lord, man, you've been wounded."

Jewel's heart lurched in her chest, for she had heard their conversation, and when Amery turned toward the fire, she could see the dark red stain that covered his arm just above the elbow.

"Anne!" she heard Gunther shout. "Bring hot water and bandages."

Suddenly the place was astir with activity. Hadwin quickly seized a huge chair and shoved it toward the hearth for Amery to sit in while Rickward and Stafford gently guided him to it. Two serfs came to stoke the fire with more togs, doing so at Gunther's instruction, and all crowded around to watch their lord tend his friend. Kneeling before Amery, Gunther could only stare helplessly, for the wound had dried and the cloth of Amery's sleeve was stuck fast. Gingerly, he tested a corner of it, cringing when it would not budge.

"Leave it, Sir Gunther, or thou wilt tear it anew," came the soft tones beside him.

He looked up to find Jewel frowning back at him. "Soak a cloth in hot water and set a dagger's blade among the coals of the fire," she instructed,1 then turned to Hadwin. "Fetch Sir Amery a tankard of ale and see that it is always filled. The cure will cause this foolish knight as much pain as the wound itself." Looking back, she cast Amery an irked glance, then motioned for Rickward and Stafford to remove his tunic. "How much time has passed since this happened?"

"We drew our swords upon the road not far from here," Rickward volunteered while doing as she had bidden. "But 'twas shortly after we left, not upon our return. Most of the afternoon has passed since then."

Jewel settled her gaze upon Amery once more and noticed the pallor of his complexion. One brow lifted with her annoyance. "Doth seem, Sir Amery, thou carest more for thy horse."

Green eyes reflecting his discomfort smiled back at her. "Perhaps. But had I had Conan beneath me instead of the nag my friend offered, this would not have come about."

"Nag?" Gunther interrupted, then caught sight of Anne hurrying toward them. Taking the pail of water she carried, he hung it over the fire in the hearth, tossed in a large piece of linen, then turned back to confront Amery. "The steed is the best I have. Mayhap it was the one who held the reins."

"Many a battle hath been won by a sure and quick steed, my friend." Amery grinned, accepting the tankard of ale Hadwin brought him and downing a long draught. "Prithee, wouldst thou consider an ass over your destrier?"

Studying the gash that nearly extended from Amery's shoulder to his elbow. Jewel said, "Doth appear the nag held one upon her back."

Hearty guffaws filled the room, though she had not intended her words to be entertaining, and Jewel bravely met Amery's amused smile before turning from him to go to the hearth. With a stick, she withdrew the steaming linen from the kettle and brought it dripping to stand before him once more. Only he could see the devilish gleam in her eyes and he wondered fleetingly at its cause before he guessed her intent and gritted his teeth to endure the torture she had in mind. Without hesitation, she dropped the cloth over the wound and silently marveled at his ability not to call out his distress.

"'Twill loosen the fabric," she said dully, sitting down next to him in the chair Hadwin had drawn up for her.

"What happened, Gunther?" Anne asked worriedly, giving her husband a quick examination for any wounds he might have suffered.

"We surprised some of Orton's men on the road," he replied, wrapping his arm around his wife as he watched Jewel gingerly test the cloth lying across Amery's arm. "We allowed one to escape without harm so that he would return to his lord and spill the news that I have returned. Twould seem, my sweet, that Orton has not given up trying to take my lands."

"Yea, Gunther." Anne nodded. "He became braver with each day that passed and you were not here to protect us."

The chatter of the servants coming from, the kitchen with platters of food and pitchers of ale broke the mood and the men moved away from the couple seated before the fire to sate their hunger and quench their thirst. Anne and Gunther remained.

"Is there something I can do?" she asked when Jewel had removed the wet linen and was cautiously peeling the fabric from Amery's wound to expose a long, clean gash that she discovered was still oozing.

"Yea." Jewel nodded, studying the injury. "Bring the dagger from the coals."

"The . . . . dagger?"

"To seal the wound and drive the poison from it," Jewel replied, then glanced up with a confused frown to watch Anne do as she had bidden.