Lady of Fire (15 page)

"Nay, Eleanor—you are mine now. Twice my sword has bought you." His voice was soft, but there was nothing soft about the body that held her. His arms were like iron bands and his green eyes glittered with a strange light as his fingers twined in her braid and pulled her head back. Hungrily he bent his mouth to hers, and unlike Henry's first tentative brushing of lips, Robert of Belesme took full possession of her mouth, crushing her bruised lips until he forced her teeth open. His tongue slid along the edges, teasing and then taking. She was suffocating, she was drowning, and yet she was powerless to stop him. His hand brushed over her breasts and then cupped one, squeezing it and pinching at the nipple with strong fingers even while his mouth still possessed hers. She stiffened in shock and tried to wrench away in spite of the strange new sensations she was experiencing.

When at last he released her bruised lips to trail hot, breathless kisses to her ear, her flesh was alive with awareness of him. The nipples of her breasts strained against the cloth of her gown. His hands moved over her, touching and caressing roughly with almost hypnotic effect. His warm breath sent shivers down her spine and raised gooseflesh on her arms. Conflicting emotions flooded over her as her traitorous body softened under her despised enemy's touch, and yet she felt far from helpless now. Somewhere in the barely lucid reaches of her mind, her thoughts echoed the warning that she played a dangerous game.

His mouth explored along her neck and into the hollow of her throat and then back to her ear. His breath came like hot flames licking at her as he whispered, "Art fire, Eleanor of Nantes," and still she felt a sense of power over him. He was wanting, he was needing what she could give him.

Abruptly he stood, tumbling her off his lap and breaking the spell. She staggered but did not fall as his hand clasped her wrist so tightly that her fingers went numb. His manner had changed, his eyes were glittering with lust, and there was not gentleness, no tenderness in him. He was breathing rapidly, panting even, and he stood before her thoroughly aroused. She shrank back from his expression and cried out, "Nay! Nay—I will not!"

"Aye—you will! Art mine to take, Eleanor," he croaked as he pulled her toward the great tapestried bed.

"Stop! Nay!"

He flung her down on the feather mattress and blocked her escape while he began untying his chausses. "Aye, years I've dreamed of naught else," he panted as he freed himself from the restraining clothing.

"I'll scream!"

"Nay, you will not." He leaned over her and whispered hoarsely, "I would see all of you again, Eleanor—undo your gown for me."

Bargaining for time, she nodded. Very slowly her hands crept to the shoulder of her gown and began working it downward while he watched. Edging up to sit on the side of the feather bed, she let her feet touch the floor. His eyes never left the neckline of her gown while she eased it off one shoulder to reveal the curve of her breast. Then, appearing to stand to take off the garment, she suddenly bolted for the door, screaming at the top of her lungs, "To me! To me! Nantes! To Nantes! Sweet Mary, help me!"

Belesme caught her before she could secure the door and clamped his hand over her mouth to silence her. She bit down on a finger, but that had no effect on him. He stood holding her against him for what seemed an eternity until he was sure none had heard her; then he turned her around. "Now, Eleanor," he mocked her, "I would see all of you."

"Nay!"

His fingers reached for the shoulder of her gown, and with a great wrenching motion he tore the fabric to expose a white breast. Then, deliberately, he bent to suck the nipple. She writhed and twisted away from him until he pinned her against the wall with his body.

"Please, my lord, let me go … please."

"I cannot. I've waited too long for you, Eleanor, as it is." Slowly, deliberately, he stifled her protest with his mouth. She closed her eyes and twisted her head away while trying to kick free of him. Suddenly she felt him stiffen against her and his hold slackened.

"Release her." Roger spoke curtly from behind Belesme. Eleanor opened her eyes to see his blade resting against the count's neck vein. "Now—take your hands off her." The muscles in Roger's jaw twitched with the effort he made to control his anger. "Now, Robert."

Belesme dropped his hands and stepped back, his ardor cooled by the cold steel. Roger's eyes took in the torn dress and his mouth went dry at the sight of her bare breast. He stared, his own heart racing, his own body acutely aware of her. With an effort, he ordered, "Cover yourself, Lea."

Her face flaming under his gaze, she hastily pinned the shoulder of the torn gown with a brooch repossessed from Blanche. Backing away from Belesme, she made a wide arc around him until she put Roger between her and the count.

Roger held the sword steady. "You know, Robert, I ought to kill you here and now for what you would have done to Lea." For emphasis, he let the Damascus blade nick into Belesme's flesh until a fine trickle of blood ran down his neck.

Belesme did not even flinch as he taunted, "Nay, you will not. She comes to me, anyway."

Roger lowered his blade but did not lay it down. "Nay. Unlike you, I have never murdered an unarmed man, and I've no wish for the bloodletting that would follow. Are you all right, Lea?"

"Aye, I am all right."

"The day will come when you will pay for this, FitzGilbert," Belesme promised coldly.

"Do you challenge me, my lord?" Roger murmured softly. "For if you do, I am more than ready."

Belesme shook his head. "Why should I fight you now, FitzGilbert, when soon enough I can lie with her when and where I will?"

Roger took a step forward, but Eleanor caught his arm. "Sweet Mary—nay! I am not worth dying for, brother." Her hand closed over his on the hilt. "The blame is mine also."

"Nay, Lea—if any shares the blame, 'tis I, for I left you alone in this accursed place. Come on." He sheathed his weapon and pulled her after him. He walked quickly with her in tow. Twice she nearly stumbled on the stairs, and she had to follow at a half-trot to keep up as they crossed the courtyard. She could tell he was angry, but she was uncertain as to whether his anger was directed at her or Robert of Belesme. When he stopped abruptly at the bailey wall, she nearly collided with him.

"God's teeth, Lea!" he exploded. "Are you so like the rest that you think him able to kill me when he is not even armed? Sweet Jesu! He is but a man who wraps his chausses and walks on two legs like me. Aye—you even saw him bleed! He is bad, but he is not invincible."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? For thinking me incapable of taking Belesme?"

"Nay, I feared I had shamed you, Roger. First I let Prince Henry kiss me, and now Count Robert."

"Foolish girl. I could see you struggling to free yourself, Lea, and I heard your cries. As for Henry, he is easy to like. Neither was your fault."

He began to walk along the wall, his thoughts troubled by what he'd seen. If she only knew what he thought when he looked on her, he was certain she would consider him little better than the others. Beside him, she sorted out her own conflicting emotions. "Roger, I fear there is something wrong with me," she finally blurted out.

He stopped short and waited. "What?"

"Well…" She hesitated, reddening and looking at the ground. "The sisters taught it a sin, but…" She groped helplessly for words to express her shame and then plunged on, "Oh, Roger, I… I must be wanton or something. I—that is… well, I did not
mind
being kissed by the prince, or by Belesme even—not at first." When he said nothing, she threw up her hands and cried out, "Well, is something the matter with me?"

"Nay, Lea, there is not," he answered finally. "A woman is supposed to want a man. Why else did God make both? Without the wanting, there is little joy in the union between them. I would not have a woman who lay like stone in my bed."

Intrigued by this glimpse of his feelings about women, she ventured to ask, "Have you lain with many women, Roger?"

"What kind of a question is that?" he asked defensively. "I am not a monk."

"Have you?"

"How many is many?"

"Ten… twenty—I don't know. Roger, I have little knowledge of such things."

He relented. She was an innocent in such matters, and none had bothered to instruct her—not Lady Mary, Herleva, or any of the other women she knew. "Aye—probably."

"Don't you know?" she asked incredulously.

"God's teeth, Lea! I have not kept records, if that is what you ask." He studied her closely. "What
do
you want to know?"

"I want to know how men regard women." Her expression was grave, her dark eyes suddenly intent on him. "Did you love any of them?"

"Nay."

"Yet you once told me you loved a lady."

"Aye." he eyed her warily, wondering where she was leading him. "I have never had her, if that is what you would know."

"Why not?"

"Because she is a lady. I am not an animal, Lea, who takes what he would have. And she is no serving wench to be tumbled at will."

"But it is not fair, brother. You are Lord of the Condes, more handsome than Belesme, and a hundred times kinder. Were I her father, I'd give her to you."

"When you are safe, I will have her."

"Aye—that's it, isn't it? Roger, you cannot put my safety above your happiness—'tis wrong." She laid a hand on his forearm. "I cannot ask it of you—it was wrong to think I could. I'm going back to Fontainebleau—once I take my vows, I am safe enough from Count Robert."

"Jesu! What is this madness, Lea? In one breath you confess to the desires of the flesh, and in the next you would go back to a convent. Mother of God, girl! You are flesh-and-blood woman!"

"But what if we fail? What if Belesme hunts you down and kills you like he will kill Fuld? I could not bear it! You deserve happiness!"

"Stop it, Lea!" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Do not speak such nonsense to me. I am your knight, sworn to you above all things. I cannot take you back to Fontainebleau."

" 'Tis not the same, Roger—you are my brother. I cannot give you children of your body, heirs to your lands. Seek your happiness with this lady."

"Lea," he exploded, "you are my lady! I mean to keep you safe."

"But—"

"Nay—no buts.' He placed a finger over her lips. "We are for England."

Eleanor lay awake far into the night, unable to sleep for the unearthly high-pitched screams that seemed to reverberate through the castle before tapering off into prolonged periods of silence. It was easy to imagine that the screams came from the death throes of Fuld Nevers and that the man would not die quickly. It was easy to think in the darkness that the silences came from those times he fainted and had to be revived. At first, Eleanor tried to hide the sounds with her pillow, but could not. Finally she sought out Roger. He and Hugh and the others had lugged their pallets into Fuld's chamber and placed them between her and the bed Belesme had taken as his. But as she rose from her cot, she could see where a slice of moonlight from the arrow slit fell across the pallets, and they were empty.

Barefoot, she made her way carefully into the outer room and found it totally unoccupied. And when she looked down into the courtyard below, it was deserted also. A knot of fear formed in her stomach. What if Belesme in his anger from earlier had managed by some trick to arrest Roger and his attendants whilst she slept? Certainly he was not a man to forgive at all, and Roger had drawn steel on him. Suddenly it was of utmost importance to find her brother.

One last terrified scream cut through the darkness with such intensity that the hairs on her neck stood and her skin crawled. Nay, she chided herself, Roger could never be reduced to such a terror-stricken thing. It was possible, but not likely, that he and the others had gone to watch Fuld die. But even as a child, Roger had never enjoyed the suffering of anything and had preferred to dispatch it quickly and mercifully.

Loosing a rushlight from a holder near the door, she held it in front of her to light her way down the treacherous steps. As she reached the bottom and stepped out to cross the courtyard, a sentry appeared from the deep shadows and halted her. Startled, she dropped the torch to the cobbled stones. The fellow bent to retrieve it, and when he stood up, she could see by the flickering light that he wore Belesme green. If he recognized her, he gave no sign.

She licked dry lips and managed a tentative smile. "Pray let me pass, sir." When he did not move, she felt compelled to explain herself. "I am Eleanor of Nantes, and I am looking for my brother, Roger, called FitzGilbert."

The man held the torch closer to study her curiously for a moment. Apparently satisfied that she spoke the truth, he stepped back respectfully. "Nay, lady, I have not seen him." When she moved to pass, he barred the way. "You cannot go further, Demoiselle, under orders from my lord of Belesme."

"I would find my brother."

"He is not here."

She drew in a sharp breath. Given his encounter with Robert of Belesme, he could well be in grave danger. She shook her head. "Then I would see Count Robert."

The guard seemed taken aback by the request. In his years of service with Belesme, he could remember no lady willingly seeking him out. But then, this was the one they'd just been to war for. He hesitated, unwilling to offend her and unable to allow her to go any further. "You'd best go back, Demoiselle. When he comes up, I will tell him you seek him."

"Nay," she persisted stubbornly. "I would see my brother, or I would see my lord of Belesme."

It was silent in the depths of the castle now. Belesme's man wavered—there seemed little enough harm in letting Count Robert know she was in the courtyard. Finally he nodded acquiescence. "Aye, I'll tell him you wait." He put his fingers to his mouth and made a shrill whistle that brought other guards out into the open. He pointed at Eleanor. "Guard her well," he ordered, "for 'tis the Demoiselle herself. And do not think to touch her, for my lord would not want your hands on his countess." With that, he left her to disappear into the darkness. A cellar door could be heard creaking on its hinges somewhere in the direction he went, and then all was silent again.