Secret Heart (14 page)

“
Thank
ye, my lord. Yer servant, my lady.” The captain bobbed his head in
Sanal’s direction before addressing Walderon again. “After that
terrible storm, I’ve a few repairs to make before me ship’s
seaworthy again. The work won’t take long. Any time ye want another
job done, my lord, I’m yer man.”

“
So you
are,” Walderon agreed, waving one hand in a sign of
dismissal.

“
They
raped her,” Sanal said as soon as the door closed behind the
captain. “Or they would have, if she hadn’t chosen death over
dishonor.” Frightened of Walderon though she was, she simply could
not restrain her revulsion. Bitter tears stung her eyelids as she
regarded the husband she loathed.

“
Who is
to know what really happened? What difference can it make to you?”
Walderon asked with a shrug of his shoulders. He didn’t look at
Sanal. But then, he seldom favored his wife with a direct gaze.
“Chantal will never be seen again, never interfere with my plans
again. That is all that really matters. I suggest you take note of
what happens to females who refuse to obey me.”

Sanal knew better than to make any answer to
his threatening statement. She watched Walderon preening himself,
tugging down his embroidered blue silk tunic so it hung more
elegantly on his shoulders, smoothing his sleek, dark hair. She
ground her teeth together in disgust at his vanity. Always Walderon
must be the finest dressed noble, the most admired man at any
gathering. Her dowry had made his grandeur possible.

Sanal
knew she was homely. She was too short to be graceful and too plump
for beauty. With her pale brown hair and grey eyes, and her face as
uninteresting and colorless as the rest of her, she was not at all
the sort of female that Walderon considered worthy to be his wife.
His mistresses, all of whom Sanal had met at one time or another
while at court, were invariably tall and willowy of figure. Sanal’s
huge dowry had overshadowed her physical shortcomings, leading
Walderon to accept the marriage contract her dying father had
offered.

No one
had bothered to ask Sanal’s opinion of her prospective bridegroom.
The men who arranged her life had not cared that she was an
unwilling bride. On her marriage night, when she had prayed that a
bit of gentleness and patience would be vouchsafed to a shy virgin,
Walderon had used force. He said it was to teach her wifely
obedience. And he’d told her how fortunate she was that he had been
careful not to inflict any bruises that would show once she was
dressed again.

After
that night, Sanal had never denied him anything he demanded of her.
During the fifteen years of their marriage she had tried to be the
docile wife he wanted. She had borne him a single son, who, to
Walderon’s frequently expressed satisfaction, was being fostered at
the castle of one of King Henryk’s greatest noblemen. He had
insisted on more sons, of course, but Sanal’s womb had rebelled
where she did not dare. Two other babes were stillborn and she had
suffered several miscarriages. Walderon had blamed her for all of
it.

Now she had just learned the very worst of
her husband, and she discovered she was unable to remain silent
about his crime.

“
How
could you order the murder of your blood kin?” she
cried.

“
Leave it
be. I’ll hear no more whining from you,” Walderon interrupted
before she could complete her accusations. His voice sounded all
the more deadly because he did not raise it much above a whisper.
“It’s over. The troublesome wench is gone at last, and I am almost
certain to be granted this estate of Thury as my own. I was
Chantal’s guardian after all, and I have taken excellent care of
Thury. King Henryk will feel honor bound to reward me for my
devotion. I deserve Thury.” Walderon paused to smooth down his hair
again, as if his irritation with his wife had disturbed its neatly
brushed perfection.

“
As for
you, Sanal, let me remind you that a man ought to possess all of
his wife, to command her complete and unquestioning loyalty every
day and every night, even when she kneels in prayer. I don’t care
whether you love me or not, whether you are shocked by my deeds or
not, but I do expect total obedience from you. If you do not offer
it, I shall force you to it.”

“
What you
have done is wrong,” Sanal persisted in spite of her fear of him.
She owed that much to the poor, dead girl who had been her niece by
marriage. She only wished she were braver, so her voice didn’t
tremble so badly. “Chantal’s death was murder. And what
about-”

She got
no further. Walderon’s hand connected with her cheek, the blow
sending her stumbling backward until she fetched up against the
wall and leaned there, unable to move for fear of what he would do
next. Then, as often happened when Walderon beat her, he became
aroused. She saw the growing bulge just above the embroidered hem
of his blue silk tunic.

“
I will
join you in your bedchamber shortly,” he told her. “Undress and
prepare yourself to receive me.”

“
Whatever
you wish, my lord,” she murmured, too cowed by his violence to
offer any objection at the prospect of his always swift and
dispassionate embrace. He’d use her and, if she was fortunate, he
would not hit her again. After he was finished, he’d leave her
alone for several days.

Walderon
jerked his head in the direction of the door and Sanal, obeying the
signal, left the room with alacrity. But she didn’t go directly to
her own chamber. Holding her hand against her stinging cheek, she
moved slowly along the corridor. As she expected, Walderon shouted
to Burke, his favorite man-at-arms, who had been standing guard
outside the office door.

As soon
as Burke entered Sanal crept back to listen to their conversation.
Eavesdropping was unworthy of a noblewoman, but Sanal had learned
over the years that it was the only way she could discover what her
secretive husband’s intentions were. What she heard on this
occasion chilled her blood.

“
The
rough-looking sailor and the friend who came with him, who are both
about to depart from Thury, are bound for Calean, where their ship
is berthed. It is such a pity that bandits lurk on the roads
hereabout.” Walderon’s voice hardened. “Those two are not to reach
their destination. Take a few men and make certain that both of
them are permanently silenced somewhere between here and Calean.
You may keep the coins they carry.”

“
Won’t
their crewmates miss them?” Burke asked.

“
I doubt
it. They are all drunkards, scum with no allegiances and no
loyalties. When the captain and his mate don’t return in good time,
the ship’s crew will most likely elect a new captain and then take
to the sea without the old one, in search of a likely target and a
new load of booty. How sad,” Walderon said with a nasty laugh. “The
sea is every bit as dangerous as the roads. That particular ship,
as I recall it, is poorly built and improperly caulked.”

“
Aye,”
Burke agreed in a tone that suggested he was grinning at his
master. “Most likely, any ship those two sail on leaks like a
sieve. I’ll see to it that she does leak, my lord.”

“
I knew I
could depend on you,” Walderon said.

At that
point Sanal fled down the corridor and up the stairs to her room.
Once there she quickly drank three large cups of unwatered wine in
preparation for Walderon’s visit.

Later, after he left her, she was very sick,
but at least the wine had made her compliant enough not to weep
during the precipitous and always uncomfortable embrace of her
murderous husband. The only new bruises she had sustained were on
her thighs and her breasts. She had borne worse from him in the
past.

She
rinsed her mouth, washing away the last traces of Walderon’s lust
before she crawled back into bed, to lie there sleepless with
horror at the news the ship’s captain had brought.

Something
must be done about Chantal’s death. But what? How could one
thoroughly frightened woman stop a man as unscrupulous and
ambitious as Walderon? Though he seldom employed his corrupt Power,
preferring instead to command underlings to do his bidding, Sanal
had never doubted he’d use it if anyone got in the way of his
ambition.

As for
her own untrained Power, the most she could do with it was conceal
it from Walderon. Sanal quaked with fear at the notion of opposing
him over anything important. She suspected that Chantal had stepped
into Walderon’s path, either deliberately or inadvertently, and
blocked him from something he wanted. Now Chantal was dead and he
hadn’t even needed to use his Power to accomplish her demise. What
would he do to his wife, to King Henryk, or to Sapaudia itself if
he faced serious opposition?

“
You will
eat your midday and evening meals in the great hall each day while
we are at Auremont,” Roarke informed Jenia. “Come.”

They were
still in the garden where they’d been all morning while Roarke
instructed and badgered her about proper conduct at court, and
Jenia was out of temper. When Roarke extended his arm for her to
place her fingers on it so he could conduct her to the great hall,
she turned her back on him.

“
Will you
be testing my manners at the high table?” she demanded.

“
Don’t be
childish,” he responded with maddening calmness. “You know why we
are doing this. You agreed to cooperate.”

“
You are
so reasonable, quite the best tutor I have ever had.” She spoke
while facing away from him, so she didn’t see how close he had come
to her. When he spoke directly into her ear, she jumped.

“
So, you
once had a tutor?” He laid a hand on her shoulder and exerted
enough pressure to make her turn to look at him. “Why don’t you
tell me all of it, Jenia? Who are you? Why are you so eager to
reach Calean that you will travel without female attendants, with
two men who are strangers to you? Or is Garit not a
stranger?”

“
Why do
you persist in asking questions that I cannot answer?”

“
Cannot?
Or will not?” he demanded in a voice that sounded like the purring
of a dangerous, very large mountain cat.

“
Roarke,
please believe that when the proper time comes, all of your
questions will be answered. Until then, I beg you to trust me. I
mean you no harm, nor Garit, either.”

“
How can
I trust a woman who conceals her true identity from me?” he
asked.

Both of
his hands were on her shoulders now, holding her so she could not
escape from him. But, she decided, she didn’t have to meet his
gaze. She stared at his chest and not into his eyes, until he
released one shoulder and caught her chin, forcing her face up to
his. Jenia shivered and closed her eyes in an attempt to avoid the
worst of his anger.

“
Are you
determined to drive me mad?” Roarke demanded. “Is that your
plan?”

“
I cannot
answer your questions,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady
under the force of his determination to have the truth out of
her.

“
Then,
answer this, my mysterious lady.”

At first
she wasn’t sure what he was doing. Since her eyes were still closed
and her thoughts were firmly fixed upon not revealing any of her
secrets to him, she had no warning. She was twenty years old, well
beyond the usual age for marriage, and never before had a man
kissed her on the lips. She hadn’t had time for girlish dreams of
love. Never had she imagined the sensual power of such closeness to
a man.

The
intimate touch of Roarke’s mouth on hers rocked her to the tips of
her toes.

She
gasped in amazement, opening her lips just a little, and Roarke’s
tongue surged into her. Perhaps she could have fought him off, if
she hadn’t been plunged into a maelstrom of emotion that left her
too weak to make any effort at resistance. She could only grab onto
his tunic, twisting the fabric into her fingers to keep herself
from falling to the ground in a limp heap.

Within a
heartbeat or two she knew that she wanted Roarke’s kiss to go on
forever. His arms were around her, holding her close to his
strength and she was returning his kiss as best she could. An
instant of regret at her total lack of experience in such matters
was followed by a whimper as Roarke tore his mouth from hers. She
wanted to apologize for her inept response to his kiss, but before
she could form a single word in her mind, much less utter it aloud,
his lips were on her throat and his tongue was licking at her
skin.

Jenia gasped again and groaned. Then she
stopped thinking and simply gave herself up to sweet, new
sensations, to the first, tremulous fluttering of feminine desire
somewhere deep inside her. Innocent though she was, she clearly
understood that what Roarke was doing to her was something very
different from the attack she had struggled against while aboard
ship. Roarke was not going to ravish her; he was seducing her. And
she, foolish Jenia, was enjoying every heartbeat of his
seduction.

It was wonderful to feel herself coming alive
in every fiber, to sense her own ready yielding toward him. The
longing she felt was so overwhelming that if he had urged her down
upon the damp, soft moss to lie with her there, she would have
offered no objection.