Mathis, Jolie (10 page)

Isabel heard the murmur go up from the multitude.

"Poison."

"Treachery!"

Warriors rushed forward to examine the hounds. Others charged out the portal which led to the keep's kitchen, surely to question those who had prepared the meal.

Isabel cried out, and reached for her son. Finally satisfied the boy had eaten none of the bread, Kol relinquished him.

Godric clung to his mother. Tears spiked his dark lashes. "Mean man. Hurt my mouth."

Kol cursed himself. Though he realized the threat to the boy and had already arranged for his protection, he had not anticipated such an attack might occur, here, in the keep, as the boy sat in his very arms.

Isabel looked up, her expression that of a cornered elk, wild and afraid. With the child in her arms, she pushed up from the table.

"Last eventide I warned you he was not safe. Do you not understand? There are those who await the day when Ranulf has been dethroned, so they may lay claim to Norsex. Godric's existence challenges any claim, for through me, he bears the blood of the Norsexian dynasty."

"I will protect the boy." Kol stood. "While I continue to seek the truth of this place."

"You cannot protect him while at the same time, you seek Ranulf's death." She quaked with anger.

"There is no reason you and I must be enemies."

"You are but one enemy, among many." She hurried to descend the dais.

"Princess." Kol sought to allay the scene unfolding in full view of his legion. "Return to the bench, so that we may confer on these matters further." He indicated the seat beside him.

Isabel shook her head. "To sit with you is to forgive your presence in this kingdom. 'Twas a mistake for me to have sat beside you for even a moment." Her breasts rose and fell with vehemence. "I hold you to blame for my child's endangerment. Before you came, he was safe."

Warriors stood as she rushed past, their eyes riveted to her. Kol could not blame them. Emotion heightened her beauty. At the doorway she turned and, across the large and assembled room, met his eyes. "Dare you try to take him from me again, and I will tear your throat out with my hands."

She whirled away, her scarlet gunna leaving a fiery trail in his mind.

Isabel awakened to the darkness of drawn bed curtains, and the sound of horses and men below her window. She shifted, easing the ache in her bruised side.

The night before, she'd resumed residence in her own chamber, in defiance of Kol's edict. She had expected him to pursue her from the great hall, but he had not. On the contrary, she and Godric had been allowed to pass the night in peace. How thankful she was, for she had not slept in two nights and had felt nearly overwhelmed by exhaustion. She had held Godric until he slept, and she remembered no more.

Now Kol prepared to depart Calldarington without her.

She burrowed more deeply into the furs and told herself not to care. Not to remember the dark and brooding expression he'd worn as she'd left the hall last eventide. Godric had been returned to her and naught else but his continued well-being mattered. In the darkness, she reached for her son.

She found nothing. No warm little boy. No warm bedclothes.

With one hand she parted the bed curtain. Pale blue light speared across the pillows.

"Godric, where are you?" The sound of her fear rang sharp in the empty room. She clambered from the bed to kneel upon frigid timbers to peer underneath the frame, but saw clear to the other side.

She stood.
"Godric!"

A horse whinnied without. A chill that had naught to do with a winter's morn, slid down Isabel's spine.

"No." She hurried to the window and shoved back its covering. She cast open the shutter.

In the distance, an army of foot soldiers moved up the mountain road. Even from this distance she heard their collective step upon the earth. Below her window, more warriors prepared to depart the burh. These men sat atop horses; large animals like none she had ever seen. Dawn shimmered off the mail shirt of their leader. He sat atop the largest and blackest beast. To her astonishment, Rowena also sat among the gathered contingent, heavily cloaked as if for a journey.

Kol bent, as if to speak to a shaggy bundle on his lap. Even from this distance, Isabel recognized the upturned face of her son.

"No!" She ran from the window and threw open the door. Two guards stood against the wall as she flew past, apparently too stunned by her sudden appearance to react, but their steps thundered behind as she raced barefoot down the stairs. She shoved through the lower passage. Figures bumped against her, their faces blurred. She pushed through the high oaken doors.

Already the line of mounted soldiers rode toward the gate. She delved into the wall of horseflesh, her feet slapping into the mud. The animals shied and complained as she veered in and out of their midst.

Like a shadow upon the earth, the great black horse and its rider rose up before her.

"Thorleksson!" she shouted.

When Kol turned in his saddle, Godric peeked around his side. Rowena also turned.

"Get thee into the keep," Kol ordered. His animal never dropped pace.

"You cannot take him from me." She ran alongside him. Her breath clouded the air in sharp bursts. She caught hold of his braies, and hooked her fingers into his leather greaves.

He braced the boy with his arm. "I ensure his protection."

Godric pushed out of his dense wrapping. "Mama, look. I ride big horse."

"Wherever he goes, so shall I." Desperately, she grabbed hold of the stirrup. The cold silver stung her hands.

"Release me." He yanked his foot and the stirrup free. With his heel, he prodded the horse forward. Isabel stumbled, but at the last moment, reached out and grabbed the steed's tail.

She would not let him take her son.

Jerked from her feet, she fell into the mud. Dampness permeated to her skin.

Godric cried, "No, no, no. My mama."

Despair gripped her, but she held onto the animal's tail. The movement reawakened her injury and pain seared her side. Abruptly, the violent travel ceased.

She lay in the mud, her hands tangled in the horse's tail.

"Curse you, get up."

"My lord," someone chastened in a low voice, and splashed to the ground beside her. Vekell raised her to her feet.

Still saddled, Kol glared his rage down on her. "You wish to come? Then come. Remember, 'twas your choice."

Though Vekell still held her arm, Isabel reached up toward Kol's saddle, her intention to mount behind him.

With a jerk of the reins, he cantered the animal aside. "Get your own damn horse. Anon. Already our time grows short."

Chapter 9

He should not have allowed her to come. But when the child had begun to cry, his mortared heart had weakened.

Kol guided Morke between the dull, flat stones of the old Roman road. Alongside him, his outriders wove in and out of the trees, searching for any enemy presence. Before and aft rode his warrior escorts. Although he did not fear a confrontation with his Saxon foe, he would tread carefully in this foreign land.

'Twas not far to the abbey.

In the courtyard he had behaved badly. How he wished he could despise Isabel, just as much as she despised him. Late into the night he had contemplated his weakness for her. She sensed it, he knew, and could not allow her to use that weakness against him.

With that caution in mind, did he dare believe her claim? Did she truly believe him to be the father of her child, or did she seek to play upon his sympathy with an outlandish story of missing memories?

When her attempts to seduce him had not succeeded, perhaps she sought an alternative method of manipulation. Perhaps this fierce connection he felt between them was not at all genuine, but forged by the princess to further her motives.

He felt her gaze bore into the base of his neck. He still held the memory of Isabel climbing atop a hastily saddled mare, one of the smaller Saxon stocks he and his men had quickly discarded when their heartier Arab breeds had arrived on the livestock ships. Her mud-stained kirtle had peeked from beneath the gunna she'd donned in the presence of his men. She had been shielded only by her maidservant, who had held a cloak high, in an meager attempt to offer her lady privacy.

Afterward he'd given over possession of the boy to Isabel, avoiding her eyes, which were so desirous of reassurances he would not be cruel, that he would not bring harm to her or her child. But he resolved not to give her that comfort. He could not allow her to thwart his vengeance against Ranulf when he suspected that very ambition motivated her every word and action.

Kol looked up into the sky. There, a wintering raven flew with wings outspread. He must remove himself from the emotion of the situation, and make his conclusions based upon truth, not the absurd yearnings of his heart. Now his mind was clear, and free of the weariness of the night before.

The
truth
was: she had attempted to seduce him, skillfully, and on more than one occasion. By her own admission, she would do anything to get what she wanted, be that the return of her son, or the return of her brother, the king, to his throne.

How close he had come to believing her claims the night before. From where had this callow nature of his arisen? Most likely the princess continued to ply her deceptions to her advantage. She sought to win his sympathy, and by doing so, bring down his defenses.

He found himself eager to test the last remaining falsehood between them. Any continued deception on her part would confirm his suspicions.

With a tug of his reins, he slowed his mount and fell into place alongside Isabel, who sheltered her sleeping child beneath her cloak. Behind them, the Princess Rowena rode out of hearing distance. She had not endeavored to ride beside her sister.

To his surprise, Isabel spoke before he did.

"Have you determined who wrought the attempt against my son last eventide?"

Nearby the raven alighted upon a branch. Its fathomless black eyes observed their passage. Kol heard the murmurs of his men, and knew they too had taken notice of the omen.

He looked away from the unlucky carrion-bird and answered the woman beside him. "Our search resulted in naught but a kitchen full of hysterical women who provided no useful details. In the future, any food will be prepared and tasted by the women themselves in the presence of my marshal."

"Do you truly believe 'twas the kitchen women who undertook to end my son's life?" Isabel snapped, and bore her child closer.

"Perhaps at the direction of another."

Isabel looked away, her expression pained.

After a moment, Kol said, " 'Tis lovely here."

She answered him not.

"Did you and your husband ride these paths together often?"

Her gaze fell to her son. "Aye," she answered unsteadily. "That we did."

She continued to lie. What more evidence of her duplicity did he require?
Let her think you believe.
The truth would be revealed soon enough, along with his judgment.

He nudged his mount into a quicker pace. Inside he grew so black, he no longer perceived the sway and creak of the forest trees lining the path. He closed his eyes, and allowed the beast to carry him forward through the pitch of his own mind.

Why did it torture him so, to be lied to? To be wrongly accused? 'Twas not as if it were the first time in his life he were punished for a crime he did not commit. If given the chance, to whom would he proclaim his innocence? To Ranulf? The idea was laughable. Even if Ranulf had tortured him believing he'd stolen his sister's innocence, Kol could not forget there was more to this intrigue.

In his mind, the pieces of the puzzle converged, but did not fit. Some were missing.

That day the king's hounds had torn into his flesh. Manacles had been fastened around his wrists. Faced with death, he'd identified himself and had revealed Aldrith's summons for his mercenary legion.

Even now, he remembered the moment with perfect clarity.

Ranulf's face had gone as white as the clays which lined these northern fenlands. He had gripped the wooden handle of the whip, and had said, "I knew you would come."

In the distance the walls of the abbey arose from a wreath of evergreens. Relief flooded Kol. He lived his life solely in the present for good reason. 'Twas because he despised almost every single remembrance of his past. Why had he believed, even for the passing of a breath, Isabel would accord him a different sort of memories, when like the others, she too betrayed him, with her lies and her intentions.

The gate of the abbey swung open. Out walked the abbess and several sisters, their eyes wary upon his warriors. He had sent a messenger to announce his arrival and to assure the sisters they were in no danger from his forces. But surely assurances from a Norse barbarian meant very little to them.

And although he felt like a monster for what he intended to do, he would not be swayed, not by a child's tears or a mother's demands.

He dismounted and looked to the princess. She rode forward, her mud-spattered kirtle hanging down on either side of the saddle. He saw her relief. For the first time since he had thundered into her life, she almost smiled.

In a breathless voice, she said, "You wish for Godric and I to remain here, at the abbey?"

"Nei,
Isabel. Not you."

The hope faded from her countenance. Good. She understood.

Only Godric would remain.

"May I not stay with him?" She looked at her son, her lip trembling. Beautiful, violet eyes blinked away tears.

"You may not." Kol took her mare's harness in hand, and led her toward the abbess. "The boy will be safe here."
And you will not be able to use him to manipulate my weaknesses further.

Tears plumped on her lashes. "I beg you, please."

"Give him to the abbess, Isabel."

"Why does my sister stay?" Isabel's watery gaze fell upon Rowena, who was already disappearing within the high walls.

"Because she displeases me." Kol looked to the trees, wanting to see anything but her face. "She cries all the time."

"Do I not displease you as well?" She pressed her face against the child's neck.

"Aye, but in a different way."

"I'll only try to kill you again."

"Take the child to the abbess, Isabel."

She exhaled jaggedly. "You are right. 'Tis better this way." She dismounted. Her eyes did not waver from his. "Because he will be away from you. Still, I should be allowed to stay with him." A single tear fell to her cheek. She kissed the slumbering child's forehead, wiped her tears from where they had fallen onto his skin, and strode forward to place him in the abbess's arms.

Despite Kol's resolve, an almost unbearable weight clamped onto his heart.

As the princess strode past to return to her mount, she raked him with her hate-filled gaze. "I will not forgive this. Not ever."

Kol watched her flounce past. His eyes descended to the swirl of her skirts, against her slender legs. God help him. They were in the midst of what should be an excruciatingly heartrending moment and he had sprouted an erection the size of his Frankish sword.

What, he demanded of his traitorous body, happened to forgetting his desire for her? To despising her with the same intensity with which he despised her brother? The memory of what lay beneath her shapeless, mud-stained garments caused him the greatest agony.

Thankfully, distraction came quickly. The thud of hooves announced an approaching rider. With the hiss of drawn swords, Kol's men positioned themselves to protect the narrow path upon which they had come. The rider, duly identified, passed through their ranks.

Svartkell thundered into view. His long, copper-colored locks flew back over his shoulders.

"My lord!" he called, as he jumped to the earth and came to stand before Kol. A smile broke over his face. "You will be exceedingly pleased. The Northumbrian has agreed to your terms. We shall observe his acceptance on the morrow."

Moments later, Kol pulled his cloak from his shoulders and traversed to the far side of the clearing. There, Isabel sat upon her mount, her eyes fixed upon the abbess, who stood with Godric between the open gates.

"Put this on." Upon two hooked fingers he lifted the garment.

With a haughty lift of her chin, she refused. "I want nothing from you."

"Your mantle, while lovely, lacks warmth."

"My hatred for you keeps me warm enough." She gripped the pommel of the saddle. He saw the underside of her wrist, the pale translucence of her skin. A chill shook her lithe frame.

He knew she was cold. With one hand he covered hers on the pommel. Her eyes flew open in astonishment as he climbed into the saddle, his larger, more muscular legs bracing hers astride. Beneath his palms her hands were frozen.

"Get off," she demanded. Beneath them, the beast canted sideways, protesting his weight. Between his thighs Isabel twisted. Her elbow jabbed his chest. He slipped an arm about her waist.

Just below the circular broach which held her mantle, he saw a flash of her skin. A delightful flush crept up her neck from the place where her breasts swelled beneath her tunic. If he pressed his lips there, against her throat, her skin would be warm and fragrant.

From across the clearing, Kol felt Vekell's disapproval bear down upon him. Why that caused him such annoyance, he did not know.

"You must learn to follow the edicts of your master, Isabel," he murmured close to her ear.

"You are not my master," she hissed, turning to glare.

Still holding her waist, he pulled his cloak about her rigid shoulders and fastened its viper broach at her throat. He felt the tension in her, the rebellion. He resisted the impulse to bury his hands in her hair and draw the silken mass from beneath his garment.

"You will be grateful for the warmth." He held his cool demeanor. "For we do not return to the burh."

Dread burdened her voice. "Where do we go?"

Beneath the cloak, his hand spread across her belly. Against his palm he felt the nervous clench of her muscles.

"Perhaps curiosity will bind you to me?"

Why did he feel compelled to touch her so possessively, here, with his warriors milling about? And in full view of the abbess? Because suddenly the urge to test her proved overwhelming. He was certain, now; he had been a fool before. Isabel was no innocent bride, but rather a woman experienced in illicit love. How much would she allow?

Nothing, he quickly learned. She clasped his hand, and pried it from her. Agitation bloomed on her cheeks.

"Nay, my lord." She did not turn to meet his eyes. "My curiosity has been duly satisfied. Prithee, allow me to return to the burh. I have duties, and they have been neglected due to your interruption into our lives."

He relented, easing his hold. Her punishment would come when the time was right. Not here, in full view of his men and the abbey walls. Between his teeth, he expelled the aggression built up within.

"Your duties will keep." Around either side of her waist he tugged the reins, setting her mare into motion. "This morning you insisted on coming, and so you will complete the journey." Moreover, he could not spare the armed escort. He steered her mount alongside his.

He thrust his boot into the silver stirrup and crossed over to his steed. Cold air eradicated the warmth their bodies had created against his thighs and chest. He took one last look into her furious, amethyst eyes, and urged his horse away.

Why did he crave her, despite his knowledge of her duplicitous nature? Each husky utterance from her lips sent a thrill down his spine. The slightest brush of her body sent waves of awareness blazing through him.

Did she please her lover, or lovers, well? Jealousy reared up within Kol.

As if to defy him, the princess cantered past, taking a place at the forefront of the party. His eyes followed the straight line of her back into the saddle. His cloak concealed her buttocks, but he'd felt her, pressed against the center of his thighs just moments ago. Warm, soft and feminine.

Shamed, he bit down a curse. He tugged one rein, whirling his horse about, and set off toward the abbess. She shrank away, but only a step. Bundled in furs, Godric lay in her arms. What would he do when he awoke to find his mother gone?

Kol removed the crucifix from where it hung at his neck, and laid it upon the tiny form. " 'Tis costly. Consider it my bestowal, in the name of the princess's child. In addition, I leave a contingent behind to defend the abbey."

"To defend the abbey?" Confusion mottled her expression. "From whom?"

Kol did not answer. "Keep the boy close to you, always."

He urged his mount to join the others. His act of contrition had done nothing to empty his mind of that which tortured him. Who about him would suspect that behind his emotionless mask, an amalgam of past encounters pulsed in shocking flashes of black and red. But the flushed female faces, the writhing, sweat-slick bodies were replaced by images of another. A woman he had not yet experienced.