Knight's Caress (4 page)

He turned to walk away from her, but she could not allow him to believe he’d bested her. “Barbarian!” she called after him in a cool, clear voice that elicited shocked gasps from his followers. Twisting around, he stared at her with eyes so frosty that Amberlie shivered, but she wasn’t about to back down or become an amenable prisoner because he’d touched her. She took off the green mantle he’d laid upon her shoulders earlier and hurled it at him, so that it puddled near his feet. “This belongs to you. I want nothing of yours to warm me!”

He raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Are you certain of that? ‘Tis cold at night with autumn’s chill upon us.”

“I’d rather freeze than wear anything of yours!”

After a few tense moments, he bent down to pick up his cloak. “As you wish, my lady. I want only your happiness while you’re among us.” He gestured toward Wick and said in a loud voice for all to hear, “Give the Lady Amberlie no covers to warm herself when you prepare her pallet.” Wick nodded, and jovial titters followed Tedric as he stiffly headed out of the cave.

“Ye heard Lord Tedric,” Wick grumbled, and pushed Amberlie toward the spot in the cave where she was to sleep. “Aye, but you’re a contrary woman. My lord didn’t have to give ye his cloak to warm ye. But what’s one to expect from a Norman but contrariness, I ask ye that.” He shook his head as Amberlie sank onto a spot, covered only by rushes.

Glancing around, she noticed that the spot was secluded from where other people began reclining for the night. Wick settled himself about thirty feet away from her, and she wondered if she could escape without being observed. But she quickly realized that escape was impossible. There simply were too many bodies to cross over, and from what she could see, four men guarded the cave’s entrance. There was no telling how many men Tedric had posted outside.

She sighed wearily, her fear giving way now to exhaustion as she lay upon the prickly rushes. She envied the soft-looking pallets upon which the others slept, especially the animal furs which Tedric’s followers used for covers. Perhaps she shouldn’t have goaded Tedric with his cloak. At least it had offered some protection against the chill, but she didn’t want to take anything which belonged to her husband’s murderer, even his kindness. So now, she had nothing but the clothes on her back to protect her from the cold night air which seeped into her bones, and had to content herself with her lot.

Amberlie was nearly asleep when she heard a woman speaking to Wick about her. Opening her eyes a crack, she saw a golden-haired woman whom Wick addressed as Lady Glenna. “Aye, that’s her, my lady. That’s the Norman wench Lord Tedric took.”

“Norman witch is more like it with that black hair and olive coloring,” Glenna jeered through thinly pursed lips, staring hard at her.

“She’s a haughty one,” Wick put in with a chuckle.

“Hmm, is she? Well, not for long, Wick. I’ll
break her of her Norman airs very soon. Tedric has placed her under my control while he waits to ransom her.”

“Ah, ‘tis good, Lady Glenna, for she’s a she-cat. Just ask Wulfgar. He’ll tell ye how hard she strikes.”

Glenna laughed coldly. “I’ve no interest in Wulfgar’s tales, Wick. My interest is only in Lord Tedric.”

Amberlie closed her eyes and feigned sleep, but she knew the Saxon woman intently watched her. Finally, she heard the woman’s footsteps retreating away from her. Amberlie groaned silently to herself. Who was Lady Glenna and why did she hate her so much? She’d heard the dripping venom in her voice. Perhaps the woman viewed her as a rival for Tedric the Barbarian? But that was ridiculous. She’d sooner plunge a dagger through his savage, black heart. But suppose Glenna were Tedric’s wife. Suddenly her own heart leapt in her chest at the thought of such a thing.

“Silly goose,” she groused under her breath at her own wayward musings. She didn’t care if the hateful man was wed to the icy Lady Glenna. Being wed to such a shrew would be just reward for his villainous deeds. He meant nothing to Amberlie, nothing at all. Yet she started to weep as her true situation struck her. She was a prisoner, a captive of a barbarian. No matter how much she’d hated living with Julianne and Guy, their company was much preferable to that of this motley rabble. She vowed that if she ever was freed from Tedric, she’d have her revenge upon him—somehow, some way. With that comforting thought swirling around in her brain, Amberlie fell into a fitful sleep.

~
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~

Had he been too hard on her by denying her a coverlet? Tedric pondered this question as he paced outside the cave. The moonlight shone brilliantly, and he stared up at the sky, half-expecting the answer to come from the heavens. He’d learned over the years, though, that answers didn’t come from above but from within oneself. And he feared he’d made a mistake with Lady Amberlie de Fontaine.

Kidnapping her had been a necessary evil. In the morning he’d send someone to the keep to arrange for the exchange of prisoners. And he had no doubt that Guy de Bayonne would be eager to have back his nephew’s wife in exchange for Edytha. Tedric’s spies at the keep had informed him that the treacherous Norman lusted after his beautiful kinswoman. Did Amberlie return the lust? Had she surrendered herself already to de Bayonne? After all, she’d been a widow for some months, and a woman so young and beautiful as Amberlie de Fontaine must have given into her body’s cravings by now. She’d been married for some years and was used to physical pleasure.

Disgust roiled inside Tedric at the thought. What bothered him was why it mattered to him. Amberlie de Fontaine was a Norman—a relative of the man who’d coldly murdered his father. Yet there was more to his perplexing feelings concerning her, more even than the fact that she believed he’d killed her husband.
Had
he killed him?

Tedric didn’t know. On the morning of the initial attack, he’d called together his men and fought valiantly when Henri de Fontaine and his knights had invaded the keep. Guy de Bayonne had been among them. Tedric remembered de Bayonne, for he’d seen the man coldly and cruelly lance his own ailing father. He’d have killed de Bayonne then and there, but his mother, sister, Glenna, and the servants had already fled to the forests. His father was dead and beyond help. Since he knew what his father would have wished, his duty was clear. He escaped and led his people to the cave and safety until he could build a new army of men.

But he didn’t forget Guy de Bayonne’s ruthlessness. Tedric had led skirmishes against the keep for some months afterward. During the last one, de Bayonne had come close enough to slash his cheek in battle. Though a lack of arms had prevented him from retaking the keep, Tedric comforted himself with the fact that he’d lanced de Bayonne in the side before he and his men had retreated to their wooded hiding places, which included spots other than the cave. During that skirmish, Tedric had wounded a number of Norman knights, but he didn’t remember killing Henri de Fontaine. Yet the man had died. Consequently, Amberlie de Fontaine hated him for it, and now he was feeling guilty for the death of a Norman dog, a man he didn’t remember killing. He resented Lady Amberlie for the way he felt, since he knew he shouldn’t feel any remorse. After all, he was a warrior.

“Aggravating woman,” he mumbled, feeling the nighttime chill sting his flesh. Why couldn’t she have been sensible and just kept the damned cloak to warm her? She was evidently too prideful for her own good.

His thoughts veered in another direction when he noticed Glenna coming toward him.

“Tedric, ‘tis cold out here,” she said.

“Aye, ‘tis cold,” he agreed, only partially happy to see her.

She put her arms around him and kissed him with such passion that Tedric groaned and pulled her closer against him. It had been so long since he’d lain with Glenna that desire ate away at him. “Can you warm me?” he said, breaking the kiss.

“Aye, come.” Taking his hand, she led him into the cave, and they crossed over the sleeping shapes of men, women, and children. Tedric was in a haze of passion until he noticed Amberlie, asleep on the rushes. He saw that she shivered, but he moved on. She was a prisoner, his tender enemy. It wouldn’t do for him to take too much notice of her.

But Glenna saw how he looked at Amberlie. “She’s not very pretty,” she said pettishly. Tedric only grunted, unable to say anything though he found his captive to be extremely beautiful. “May I assume that she will be in my care on the morrow?” Glenna asked. “I’m certain I can find something for the Norman witch to do to earn her keep while she is here.”

“Aye, you have my permission,” Tedric tiredly drawled, missing the cruel smile that twisted Glenna’s lips.

They walked into a small, secluded section of the cave which had been set aside for Tedric’s use. Animal furs were piled upon the floor for comfort and warmth. Glenna smiled provocatively, and began pulling off her kirtle before quickly burrowing beneath the furs like a small golden cub. Tedric removed his clothes and followed suit, the chill in the cave dissipated beneath the furs and with the heat of Glenna’s body as she pressed against him.

Her hands massaged his chest while he cupped her small breasts in the palms of his hands. How good it felt to be loved, he thought, to be looked at like a man and not an animal. Amberlie de Fontaine regarded him as an animal. He groaned. Why must he think about her now when Glenna, the woman he would most likely marry, was doing such wonderful things to him? Even now, her hands moved from his chest to his rib cage, and down, down they went to encircle his pulsating shaft. The pleasure was more than he could bear.

Tedric flipped Glenna from her side onto her back. Instantly she parted her legs for him, eager and anxious to feel his first thrusts. “Ah, Tedric, Tedric,” she moaned and raked her fingers through his shaggy locks. He poised above her, more than ready to invade her sweet warmth. But a mental picture of Amberlie de Fontaine, shivering on her bed of rushes, flashed through his mind. She’d looked so small and helpless, so unlike a hated enemy.

“Tedric, now! Now!” Glenna’s pleading and writhing beneath him brought him back to reality.

He started to penetrate, but found his shaft had suddenly gone limp. Desire for Glenna disappeared, and he moved off her. “What’s happened?” she asked, and in the torchlight he could see that her eyes were huge, round, and worried.

Tedric gave a short chuckle. “‘Tis obvious that I’m more fatigued than I thought.”

“But this—has never happened before now,” Glenna persisted, and Tedric wished she’d be quiet. “‘Tis a bull you are, my lord—usually.” She eyed him suspiciously, biting her lower lip in contemplation.

“The bull is tired and needs to sleep.”

“But—but —I’ve not been pleasured yet!” she blurted out. “Shall I seek my pleasure elsewhere, my lord?”

“Are you testing me, Glenna?” This time his eyes narrowed at her. “For if you are, then understand I share my woman with no man. But if you want to belong to someone else…”

“Nay, nay, Tedric. Only you.” She huddled beside him in a state of misery, fearing that Tedric might not want her any longer. She’d dreamed of a marriage to Tedric all of her life, and one day he’d regain the keep and she’d be mistress there. They’d have been married by now if William the Bastard had only stayed in his native Normandy. Glenna placed a warm kiss on his lips and smiled sensuously at him. “I’d like you to finish with me, my lord.”

He knew what the lusty wench wanted, and it was little to ask. For months now Glenna had cared for his mother and sister without complaint—and she’d shared the furs with him whenever he needed a willing bedmate. It wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t complete their lovemaking, but the fault of that dark-haired Norman wench who’d so completely invaded his thoughts. He must stop dwelling upon a woman whose family had brought his own so much pain.

“Part your legs,” he softly coaxed, and Glenna instantly and willingly obeyed. When he slipped his fingers inside of her wet warmth, she arched greedily toward him. So hungry was she that she found her pleasure almost immediately. Tedric had no doubt that Glenna would never be the type of wife to ignore her husband’s physical needs. Her own needs were as great —if not greater than any man’s.

“I love you, Tedric,” she murmured against his chest minutes later.

He patted her arm. “Sleep now, Glenna.” For some reason he couldn’t tell this woman that he loved her, though it was expected they would marry. Otherwise, he was using her as his leman. His own mother had asked him when he would marry Glenna. How unfair it was to the girl to bed her without spoken vows between them. She wasn’t a common scullery maid to be toyed with at will. The blood of ancient Saxon kings ran in her veins, as well as his own. He knew his mother was right, and he’d eventually do what was expected of him. So far, Glenna hadn’t questioned him about marriage, and he was grateful. But he reasoned it was only a matter of time before she did. Most women of quality expected marriage.

The wall torch had nearly been extinguished, leaving the place where they lay in almost total darkness. Glenna had moved away from him during sleep, her low, steady breaths barely audible. Yet Tedric, who’d slept for only a few minutes, was now wide awake and unable to reclaim sleep. He stared at the rock-hewn ceiling, recalling the huddled and shivering figure of Amberlie de Fontaine. He’d dreamt about her too. Damn the woman for intruding into his dreams!

Well, there was only one thing to do if he wanted to sleep. Slipping from beneath the furs, Tedric grabbed a large bear pelt and wrapped it around his waist, to hide his nakedness and to keep him warm. Then he took two sheepskin furs from beneath the pile where he slept, barely disturbing Glenna. Leaving the sleeping chamber, he trudged the distance along the cave’s winding corridors to where Amberlie de Fontaine lay on the rushes.