Medieval Master Warlords (2 page)

Kellington ignored her father, her pleas focused on Jax. “If there is any punishment to be dealt, I will take it. If it will spare my father and our vassals, I will gladly submit. Do what you will with me, but spare the others. I beseech you, my lord.”

Jax’s face remained like stone.  Seeing that the enormous knight was ignoring her, Kellington broke free and raced to her father, throwing herself against him as de Velt’s men pulled him from the room.   Keats tried to dislodge her, but his hands were bound and men were pulling on him, making it difficult.

“No, Father,” she wept, her arms around is left leg. “I will not see you face the blade alone.  They will have to kill me, too.”

“No,” Keats commanded softly, hoping the knights dragging him out would at least give him a moment with his only daughter.   He lifted his bound arms and looped them around her, pulling her into an awkward embrace. “It is not your time to die. You will live and you will be strong. Know that I love you very much, little lamb. You have made me proud.”

Kellington wept uncontrollably.  Her father kissed her as their brief time together was harshly ended. There were many men attempting to separate them and someone grabbed her around her tiny waist and pulled her free.   It was de Velt.             

“Lock the girl in the vault,” he commanded. “Take the father to the bailey and wait for me there.”

He handed her over to the blond knight, who heaved her up over his shoulder.  As he turned around to follow the father and other knights from the room, Kellington’s upside down head found de Velt.

Please spare him, my lord,” she begged. “I will take all of his punishment if you wish, but do not harm him. He is all I have.”

Jax watched his knight haul her away. She wasn’t kicking and fighting as he had seen her do earlier when she had first been captured.  She looked somewhat defeated. But the expression on her face was more powerful than any resistance. He gaze lingered on her a moment before pulling on the loose gauntlet.

He had no time to waste on mercy.  He was, after all, Jax de Velt.

CHAPTER TWO

Kellington had been in the vault of Pelinom before, but never as a guest.  When she was a child, she used to play games in it, hiding from servant children.  Even when they found her, she would declare victory.  Such was the life of the spoiled only child of the garrison commander.  Whatever game she played, she always won.  It had been a sweet life.

Except this game - it was not a game. It was harsh reality. De Velt had invaded her lovely castle nestled near the Scots border and she was understandably bewildered.  So she sat in the corner of the vault, grieving for her father, for his knight and for her friends who were at the mercy of a madman. She wondered if she would be the only one to survive the siege, forever locked up in the bowels of a mossy vault with only rats and vermin to keep her company. She wondered if her fate would ultimately be those of her family and friends. In any case, her future was a bleak one.

She had spent at least two days in the vault.  She knew that by the amount of meals she had been given, catered to by silent soldiers who were as wary of her as she was of them.  Time passed, she ate, she slept, she mourned.  She had no real concept of day or night, or even of time.  Everything was surreal and dour. 

It was sometime after her third morning meal that she heard the passage door open.  The great oak and iron panel groaned as someone pulled it free with a couple of good jolts; the door tended to stick. Since she had already been fed, she was curious and fearful of whom it might be. She could hear boot falls on the slippery stones, drawing close.  It was so dark that she could hardly see, but whoever it was had a torch in hand. 

As she watched, massive boots came to rest at the bottom of the stairs and moved in her direction.  As the light drew closer and the cell was illuminated, she could see that de Velt himself had come. Though he was without the plate armor about his chest, she recognized the gore-covered chain mail, now dulled from days of wear.  Moreover, there was no man as large as de Velt. It could be no one else.

Panic bloomed but just as quickly faded; if he had come to kill her, there was nothing she could do about it.  She had no weapon, no way to defend herself. Moreover, he was almost three times her size.  The thought of her impending doom was enough to bring tears again but she took comfort in the fact that soon she would be with her father and mother in Heaven.  She focused on the thought to calm herself, but it was a difficult struggle.

He had the old iron key in his hand and wrenched open the cell door.  He was too tall to pass through the stone archway without folding himself over.  Kellington wiped at her tears, not looking at him as he made his way into her cell. In fact, she closed her eyes and lowered her head.  She didn’t want to see the blade as it came down on her.

He just stood there; she could hear him.   She waited for the sword to come down on her head, but so far, nothing happened.  After a small eternity, she dared to look up.  He was staring down at her and she started anew at the vision of the man; he was without his helm and it was her first clear glimpse of him.  He had a granite jaw and long nose, and was relatively young and unmarred for one with such a ghastly reputation.  His dual-colored eyes were still unnerving and dark brows arched intelligently over them. His hair, unrestrained by the helm, felt to his shoulders in a slick, dark sheet that reflected the light like a raven’s wing. He was not unhandsome in the least and that surprised her.  For a man of such reputation, she had expected a beast.

All that aside, he was still colossal and cold. He looked every inch the untamed barbarian and they gazed at each other for a long, silent moment.  Anxiety rose in her chest as she waited for whatever he was going to do to her until she could stand it no longer.

“Did you at least provide him with a proper burial?” Kellington finally blurted.

An arched eyebrow lifted. “You will not make demands.”

She realized she had spoken boldly, though it had been mostly from apprehension. “I did not,” she said, with more respect. “I was merely asking a question.”

The other eyebrow lifted. “I see that two days in the vault has done nothing to temper your disposition.”

She was cold, hungry and growing ill with the damp.  Her physical condition and apprehension made her snappish. “If you are going to kill me, then be done with it.”

He stroked his chin, his massive hands finally coming to rest on his narrow hips.  “I have no plans to kill you yet,” he said. “In fact, I believe I have use for you.”

His words did not give her hope. “As what? A whore for your men? Target practice? Pray, what use could you possibly find for me that is not painful, degrading or humiliating?”

She heard his joints pop as he crouched in front of her. It was a startling move and she instinctively moved away from him. But she dared to lift her gaze, studying him in spite of herself.  His two-colored orbs were still disconcerting and she had a great deal of trouble looking him in the eye.

“You have a tongue, girl,” his voice was so low that it was a growl. “’Tis best that you curb it around me. I’ve no patience for disobedient wenches.”

Her golden-brown eyes flashed. “I am not a girl nor am I a wench. I am the Lady Kellington Eleanor Coleby and my father is a garrison commander for William de Vesci, Baron of Northumberland.  And I am not disobedient; I am simply asking questions that you have yet to answer.”

Jax watched her, the way her eyes sparked when she was irritated, and he was surprised to admit that it intrigued him somewhat.  He was so hardened to life in general that there was generally no room for emotion of any kind.  But this tiny woman before him was certainly spirited, as he’d seen the day they had overrun Pelinom.  In fact, in the very brief time that he had been introduced to the emotional, talkative Kellington Coleby, he’d seen nothing about her that was disenchanting.  But looks, and moods, could be broken.   He was far too seasoned to be taken in.

“You said that you would take the punishment for your father and vassals,” he said. “Are you still so willing?”

Her lovely face blanched but, to her credit, she nodded. “I…I am.  What are you going to do?”

He didn’t reply; he simply stared at her.  But Kellington sensed something in his question and her manner perked.

“Do you mean to tell me that my father and the others live still?” she asked, almost eagerly.

He paused a moment. “Some.”

He could see the tears well up in her eyes and how hard she struggled against them. “My father is alive?” she whispered.

“He lives still.”

She blinked and fat tears splattered on her dirty surcoat. Jax watched her, feeling an odd twitch in his chest and having no idea what it was.  He’d seen many tears over time and not one had ever given him cause to react.  In fact, most hysterics fed his bloodlust. He gleaned strength from the fear of others. But most oddly, not with this one.

“Where is he?” she begged, wiping at her face.

“Suffice it to say that he is whole and sound,” he replied, watching emotion ripple across her face. “He has informed me that you have been dispensing business since the majordomo’s death and that you know more of Pelinom’s coffers than he does.”

She paused in wiping the tears from her face, her golden-brown eyes focusing on him with surprise. “Is that why you keep me alive? To tell you how rich we are?”

He shook his head. “I know how rich you are. What I want to know is what more there is to this place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sheep, cattle, other functions. Pelinom is a wealthy castle and I would know what riches I have acquired and what more to expect.”

Her tears were drying as she thought on his words. “And once I educate you, what will you do with me? I will have served my purpose.”

He stared at her for a moment before standing up.  He was so enormous that he took up all of the air in the cell and Kellington found it difficult to breathe.  The man stifled her.

“I’ve not decided yet,” he said. “But for now, you may be of use.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I would not if I were you.”

It was almost a plea.  The statement sent bolts of terror through her more than any clear threat could have.   She backed down, knowing it would be foolish to challenge him.  She shouldn’t have even said what she had, but she had always possessed an unruly tongue. It was nothing new.

“My punishment,” she said softly. “What are you going to do so that I may prepare myself?”

He stared at her a moment.  Then, he crouched again and his massive body was suddenly very close.  Before Kellington could react, he had her face in one hand, tipping her chin up to gain a better look.   His hand was so massive that it swallowed up half her head. The more he inspected, the more interested he was in what he saw.  

“Stand up,” he ordered.

The two-colored eyes had her shaken, mesmerized. But she did as he asked, standing on stiff legs that had been folded against the icy stone.  She stared at the floor as his gaze raked her; she could feel the twisted heat from the evil orbs.  It was like being analyzed by the Devil.

“Remove your surcoat.”

Her eyes flew to him in a panic but he met her gaze impassively.  Somehow she knew what punishment he had in store for her. Tears threatened again but she fought them; after all, she said she was brave enough to face any punishment.  But she wasn’t sure that she really was.

With shaking hands, she tried to unfasten the stays at her back but they would not come easily. Her fingers were freezing and refused to work properly.  She fumbled around until Jax spun her around and deftly undid the stays himself.  Before she could remove her garment, he took hold and pulled it over her head. 

The surcoat landed off to the side.  Clad only in her woolen shift and pantalets, Kellington stood and shivered as Jax continued to inspect her.   She could feel the scrutiny from his gaze as if a thousand pins were pricking at her.  She closed her eyes so that she would not have to see his two-colored orbs devouring her.

“The shift,” he commanded again. “Remove it.”

The tears returned and found their way onto her cheeks, but she did as she was told. In fact, she was angry; if it was his intention to humiliate her, she wasn’t going to beg him not to. If he wanted the satisfaction of her pleas, then he was sadly mistaken. She would plead for others, but not for herself.   She swore she would take the punishment for the others and she meant it. She only hoped her courage held out.

The shift came off and landed near the surcoat.  Naked from the waist up, she didn’t try to hide herself.  She stood as proudly as she could manage, her eyes on the floor, firm in her resolve to take her punishment with dignity.

But for Jax, it was an interesting moment. He had only asked her to remove her clothes to see what she was made of.  He wanted to see how long her courage would hold, stripping down in front of the enemy.  He expected tears, begging, and spells of all forms.  But she did nothing more than obey him, although the tears had made a weak return.  Now he was somewhat surprised by her pluck and more than surprised by his reaction.  Interest turned to lust. He could feel his veins warming.

“The hose,” his voice was husky.

She sniffled but ripped off the undergarments, tossing them angrily to the floor.  Now she was completely nude, standing before him in all her sensuous glory, and he was oddly speechless.  Her slender neck and shoulders gave way to breasts that were firm, plump and pert. The nipples were like little pebbles in the chill of the vault. He’d never seen such perfection.  Her waist was tiny, flaring into womanly hips and delicious thighs.  There wasn’t one portion of her body that wasn’t tempting beyond reason.  In fact, he’d never seen such perfection.

His heart began to race and he could actually feel his palms sweat.  What had started as a test for her had now turned tables on him.  But he would never let her know. He had a point to make.

Before she realized it, he shoved her onto her back on the damp pile of straw that had constituted her bed for the past two days.  Kellington yelped with fright as his enormous body came down on her, burying her in the pile.  The gore-caked mail was against her tender skin, scratching her, and his weight was smashing her fragile body.   But as trapped as she was, and as vulnerable, he made no move to touch or grab anything personal.   He stayed clear of anything tender.

A trencher-size hand was on her waist, completely encircling more than half her torso, and his face loomed above her.  His dark hair, long and unwashed, licked at her cheek.   Kellington gazed fearfully into the dual-colored eyes, struggling with the last threads of her courage.

“Do… do what you must, my lord,” she choked. “I am not afraid.”

His gaze was steady, his face not an inch from hers.  He was massive against her petite size, a fact not lost on him.  But for as small as she was, her bravery was holding up admirably.  She should be shrieking for her life. But instead, she was demanding he do his worst and be done with it.  A small seed of respect sprouted. 

“Then you have done this before,” he threw insults in to the mix to see how she would react. “A true maiden would be terrified.”

“I have not done this before,” she said, her lovely face mottled pink. “And I told you I would take whatever punishment you dealt.”