Suzanne Robinson (24 page)

She kept her eyes fixed on Gray’s. His were a dark black-green in the fading daylight and shadows of the forest. And they held no mercy. Fear turned her stomach and chilled her bones. Her hands began to shake; she wasn’t going to win, not in a physical struggle. Her only chance lay in a battle of wits and courage. She stopped running.

Gray lunged at her and grabbed her upper arms. Juliana
held herself rigid as he lifted her up to his eye level, then covered her mouth and plunged his tongue into hers. Forcing her to open to him, he ravaged her while his men cheered. Then he dropped her. She plummeted to the ground and stumbled, but recovered and stood erect. He came at her again, this time reaching for the shirt laces at her throat.

Her arm shot out in a warding gesture. “No, I’ll do it.”

His hand dropped to his side, and for the first time she saw some flicker of uncertainty cross his brow. It was quickly gone as he lifted an eyebrow and gave her an amused nod. That derisive challenge angered her as nothing else had. Her gaze impaled his. He met her defiance with equanimity, never breaking off his stare.

If it was the last thing she did, she would shatter that mocking iciness. Juliana lifted a hand, slowly pulled off a black leather glove, and let it drop. At the gesture, the men around her stopped laughing. She pulled off the second glove and threw it at Gray’s feet with a sudden force.

He merely chuckled and said, “There’s much more to come off, mistress thief.”

Scowling at him, she unbuckled her belt. Its length unwound, taking with it a knife scabbard. She tossed it aside, and without pausing pulled off her boots. Of all the clothing she was to remove, these were the most difficult for her, so she did it quickly, lest anyone suspect.

This would be her secret victory. He didn’t know she feared revealing her imperfection of limb more than the rest of her unremarkable body. That’s what came of trying to embarrass a healer familiar with many bodies, sick though they might be. She would fix these thoughts before her.

The second boot shot out and landed at the feet of the French knight. Juliana straightened, settling on both feet.

Don’t stop; if you stop, you’ll lose your courage and whimper at his feet. Do you want that? It’s what he wants. Don’t stop
.

He was still watching her with that mocking half-smile on his lips. She held his gaze—and dropped her breeches and hose.

Worn wool slithered around her ankles. A cold breeze danced over her legs. The hem of her tunic reached below her hips. Her bare leg kicked, and the patched material sailed at him. He blinked then, quickly, and all amusement vanished from his face. He didn’t look away, and she couldn’t. But she could hear several of his men suck in their breath, and one choked.

Don’t stop or you’ll never do it. He’ll pounce on you like a rutting stallion
.

Her hands lifted to her throat, drawing his attention. She began to unlace her tunic, but wavered as he smiled again. That smile signaled defeat to her. No,
don’t think; don’t stop. At least keep your pride
.

Laces unwound. She pulled apart the edges of the fabric, exposing the rise of her breasts. Then she lowered her arms and grasped the hem of the tunic. Slowly her fingers slid up her thighs, higher, even higher, while she looked deep into cold green eyes. Her vision filled with nothing but emerald glitter.

The black wool edged up, close to the vee at her hips. The only sign of change in him was a fine film of moisture that appeared on his brow. Neither of them would release the lock of their gazes. She had stopped breathing. Pausing, she drew in air. Then she lifted the hem.

Cold air wafted over the most intimate portions of her body. Then Gray’s tall, hard body was shielding hers. Arms wrapped around her and shoved the hem of the tunic down her thighs.

“Christ’s curse! Damn you, Juliana. And damn you, Lucien, all of you take yourselves off.”

Noise rose up around them. She glanced around to find that his men were dragging their horses away and retreating into the thickness of the forest with their prisoners. In moments they were alone. He released her roughly. She looked up at him with a fiercely triumphant smile. Not bothering to say a word to him, she turned her back and picked up her hose.

Suddenly he lunged at her, swearing and breathing hard. Picking her up, he pulled the hose from her grasp and tossed them across the clearing. He dropped the arm under her legs so that she was resting against his chest with her legs against his. Holding her by the waist with one arm, he gripped a thigh with the other and worked his hand up, an inch at a time.

Juliana cried out and wriggled against him, but her thrashing offered him the opportunity to slip his hand around to the inside of her thigh and bring it up against the join of her leg. She screeched as he pushed against her. He chuckled and squeezed even as he foiled her attempt to shove his hand away. His fingers began to probe.

At this invasion, she cried out, grabbed a lock of his hair, and pulled. He yelped, and his hands slipped around to cup her buttocks. Juliana yanked his hair again; he swore and dropped her. Landing on her feet, she turned to run, only to be swept up in his arms again. He had one arm around her back and the other under her legs.

“Filthy sodding whoreson bastard, let me go!”

“What an evil tongue you have, mistress thief. That’s another of your faults I’ll have to correct. That and your stubborn selfishness and your disrespect, and your habit of trying to shame innocent knights who’ve done naught
to warrant your evil tricks. Oh, and your unmaidenly urge to expose yourself to strange men.”

“Ohhhh. Let me go, or I’ll—”

“Between you and me, Juliana, there will be but one master. Understand this now, or there will be more embarrassments.”

“Put me down, you pestilential churl.”

“We’re going home, Juliana Welles, where I’m going to drop you at your father’s feet and expose your thieving sins for all to see.”

She pounded his back. “As long as I don’t have to marry you, I don’t care.”

“Oh, you’ll marry me, mistress thief, but before you do, I’m going to tame that evil temper of yours. Do you think I’ll endure a wife who sets herself against me and exposes me to scorn with her defiance and disrespect?”

“I’d rather marry a poisonous toad than you. Put me down.”

“Not yet, my lovely thief. I think your sins merit at least one more ride across my saddle.”

“By God, I’ll kill you.” She writhed against his back while trying to grip his belt.

“No you won’t, but if you don’t stop squirming all over me like that, I’m going to toss you in a pile of leaves and really take your clothes off, and that will be the least embarrassing thing that will happen to you.”

She stopped struggling. Once she was quiet, Gray allowed her to dress, then picked her up again—before she tried to run away, he said. He found his men, tossed her atop his horse, and mounted behind her. Since she’d landed upright, Juliana didn’t protest. Sitting between his legs, rigid and enraged, she clamped her mouth shut and stared ahead. Her men had been tied to horses and were following, guarded by knights. Her men! She’d
brought calamity upon them. Gray had said he’d hang them.

“Let my men go.”

“Ah, you’re talking to me again.”

“Only because of my men. They only did as I ordered. None of them is really a thief, you know. Thunder of God, I’m the one responsible for what’s happened to you. Punish me, but let them go.”

He didn’t answer. She waited until her patience wore out, not a long time, she had to admit.

“Well? What say you?”

“Hush,” he said. “I’m thinking. After all, there is justice to consider, an eye for an eye, and so forth.”

He was delaying to make her suffer. That was it. He wanted to draw out the suspense. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from railing at him and thus letting him know how successful his tactic was. Making fists, she dug her nails into her palms and waited.

It was dark, and Wellesbrooke castle was in sight before he made another sound, and then it was a throaty, sinister chuckle. The sound sent a chill down her backbone and made her palms go damp. He rode with his arm encircling her waist. It tightened to draw her against his hips and chest, and she felt his mouth near her ear. Warm, moist breath wafted over her cheek and throat.

“There is a way you can save your poor louts,” he whispered.

“Get on with it,” she snapped.

“Y
OU
must promise to leave off this absurd defiance. Accept our betrothal and marriage. Become a right gentle and biddable lady. I know it will be hard for you, but it’s my price, and don’t snarl at me like that. You hold the lives of those men in your hands.”

“Devil’s spawn. Whelp of a demon. Pissant scabrous lout!”

“Then you agree to my terms?”

“Yes, you foul curse upon the world.”

“Now, now, my love, you’re breaking your promise already.”

“Thunder of God, I’ll break more than my promise. If you think I won’t let everyone know it was I who stripped you of your clothes—ah!”

She gasped as he hauled on the reins sharply, causing his mount to rear. He quieted the animal while the men behind them pulled up to await his pleasure. After stroking the horse’s neck, without warning, he grabbed her shoulders, lifted her, and set her sideways across his lap so that she could see his face. He drew her close, his fingers digging into the flesh of her upper arms.

“Look at me. There’s plenty of light from the moon, Juliana, so look at me.”

Pressing her lips together, she lifted her chin and glared at him. What she saw when she faced him made her own scowl fade. The gentle Christian knight had vanished again, to be replaced by the mercilessness of a pagan, the ruthlessness of a Godless heathen. Those eyes held the writhing of damned souls, the searing fires of hell.

“Look well, stubborn mistress,” he said calmly. “See what I rarely reveal to others, and know that if you ever betray me, this is what you will face.”

Strength drained from her body. Her mouth went dry, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking away from that alien visage. Shaking her head, she twisted in his grip, but he shook her.

“Your promise before God, Juliana. I’ll have it.”

“I—I promise.”

“What do you promise?”

“To stop fighting you, and—and all the other things you said. By the Holy Trinity, I promise.”

He released her then with a sigh at odds with the ruthlessness he’d displayed. Removing his cloak, he settled it around her shoulders before taking his hands from her again.

Once free, Juliana turned to face forward again and tried not to tremble. What had she done? She had put herself in the power of a man more heathen than Christian, more barbarian than civilized. Only God knew what corruption and evil he’d come from in the land of the paynim. But what could she do? If she didn’t obey, he would destroy Eadmer and the others. And she didn’t doubt he’d fulfill his promise to hang them. Rumor attributed far worse depravities to him than simply hanging thieves.

How could she have forgotten his reputation? What happened to her when she came near him that she lost her sense and her memory? His presence seemed to cast her into disarray, wreck her ability to heed her own warnings. And that duel of stares while she removed her clothes, only now could she admit to herself that, had they been alone, she might have stripped him as well as herself.

“God save me,” she muttered.

“What did you say?”

She cast around for some explanation. Her gaze caught light and movement, and she pointed to the castle.

“Look. What passes at Wellesbrooke?”

On the battlements she could see dots of light, torches held by numerous guards as they moved back and forth on the wall walk. Gray kicked his horse to a trot as they approached the bridge, and soon they were riding under the portcullis and through the gatehouse.

“Have a care, Juliana. Keep my cloak around you so that none see your thief’s garb.”

“I know how to conceal myself,” she snapped.

He pointed back at her men. “Remember your promise.”

Twisting her lips into a pained smile, she said, “Yes, my lord.”
May all your glorious hair fall out
.

“Good,” he said. “And in the future make your visage match the sweetness of your words.”

She almost punched him, but her eye caught sight of four weary pretend thieves being herded past on foot. She bit her upper lip and held her tongue. They rode into the bailey where Gray dismounted and lifted her down from the saddle.

A rumble and scuffle signaled her father’s approach. Gray’s body hid her from Hugo’s sight. Her betrothed shoved her farther behind his back as he turned to greet his host. His arm thrust her at Lucien, who stepped in front of her. Arthur Strange pulled her behind him, and then moved into the midst of the crowd of knights who earlier had jeered at her. In a few moments Arthur spirited her to the old keep and up to her chamber.

Alice opened the door, her face white. “Mistress, where have you been? You said you’d return before dark.”

“Hush, you fool,” Juliana said. She stepped into the chamber and grasped the door as she turned on Arthur. “Go away.” She slammed it in his face.

Wearily she went to the bed and sat down. The folds of Gray’s cloak billowed around her. Alice sneezed, causing Juliana to start.

“Thunder of God, woman, can’t you be quiet?”

Alice began to sniffle. “I’ve had to lie to your mother and sisters for hours, saying you were ill. If you hadn’t returned soon, my lady would have come in here and found out the truth. What would happen to me then?”

Pressing her palm to her forehead, Juliana sighed. “I’m full sorry. You’re right, but take cheer, Alice, because I won’t be playing the bandit anymore. I won’t be doing
much that’s amusing anymore if Gray de Valence has his way. I’m to marry him.”

“I know, mistress, and it’s wondrous news.”

“Wondrous, indeed. It’s wondrous that he wants such an alliance. I don’t trust him, Alice. Why does he want to marry me when he’s already—um—why would he want an alliance with the Welles family?”