Sword for His Lady (13 page)

“That is horrible!”

He laughed. “Such is life, lady. Resign yourself to your fate or I will make sure you accept my will. Truly, I care not which method you choose.”

His gaze lowered to her breasts and he smacked his lips before heading toward the door and leaving her.

* * *

She was so foolish.

How could she think Ramon hell on earth?

Well, you know better now.

She did, but the knowledge gave her no solace. Chastising herself surely wouldn't save her.

Nor would Ramon, for he didn't even know that she was gone.

Which was her fault as well. He had warned her.

So she would have to help herself. Hadn't that been what she craved? For a moment, regret tore through her, ripping aside her pride and leaving her facing the harsh reality.

Men were not kind because fate was not kind.

Women became calculating because it was their only resource. Their wiles, their wits, were their own weapons.

Rauxana came to mind.

“Serving you is my reason for life.”

Whether or not the exotic-looking woman meant what she said, there was one thing Isabel knew for certain: Jacques had believed Rauxana. Isabel had seen it in his eyes. The pure male satisfaction as Rauxana rubbed against him that last time. In truth, it was debatable who exactly was the master. When Rauxana flashed a look to him from beneath her dark eyelashes, Isabel thought the girl was the one in control of the man who believed himself her master.

So was Rauxana a sorceress? Or some other word that Isabel had only heard in half whispers? The way she stroked Jacques made it clear that she knew how to touch a man. And it had clearly beguiled him. Enchanted him.

She was treading on dangerous ground, for the church warned against such wild abandonment.

The sound of men talking came through the canvas tent walls.

Isabel squared her shoulders. She would contemplate anything that might free her.

And
what
will
you
do
when
you
are
back
at
Thistle
Keep
with
Ramon?

For a moment, a wicked idea of stroking Ramon filled her thoughts. Would his eyes glitter with as much satisfaction?

She shouldn't have these thoughts, but it was better than weeping over her plight.

Anything was better than pitying herself.

* * *

Isabel was not at the evening service.

Ramon scanned the congregation twice before striding across the aisle to where the women stood.

“Where is your mistress?” the priest hissed at him. Ramon lifted his hand and the man fell silent.

Ramon glared at Mildred. The old woman's eyes widened with alarm. “I've naught seen her since this morn. I thought she was hunting…in the marshes… She is never this late.” Horror edged her words and she looked around again, frantic to catch sight of Isabel.

“My apologies, Father, but your mistress is missing. The ungodly have no respect for the evening mass, so I must beg your forgiveness,” Ramon said.

There was a hush in the church, as everyone waited to see what the priest would make of Ramon interrupting the Lord's supper.

“Go with God,” the priest said as he made the sign of the cross in the air over Ramon.

Ramon took a moment to acknowledge the priest by bending to one knee before he rose and headed out of the sanctuary. His men followed him, their boots stamping against the stone floor and echoing through the church.

“We've precious time to track her before the light is gone,” Ambrose observed.

A hawk cried out and swooped low across the yard before perching on the roof of the mews. It let out another cry before fluffing its feathers. The ends of leather securing its band trailed below it in the fading light.

Ramon growled. His men knew the sound well. But this time, he felt something deeper. Something unfamiliar in his rage.

This time, it was far more…personal.

* * *

Rauxana reappeared near sunset.

She wore a different robe now, one that was buttoned up the front and slit up the sides to her hips. When she moved, her bare legs flashed.

She laughed, low and sultry. “You should see your face. Scandalized by the sight of my legs. Christian women are so boring, so timid. Yet my master must obey his father and take you for his wife.” She glided over to a small table and poured what looked like water into a goblet.

“You cannot drink that,” Isabel warned, but the other woman paid her no mind. She took a long sip from her goblet before glancing at Isabel with a satisfied look on her face.

“Water is what the body needs.” She set the goblet down and looked around her. “Only the ignorant do not know such a thing. In the desert, the body dies without water. Give a man wine and he will still perish beneath the sun. Only water gives life. But I will admit that in this place, it is hard to find pure water.”

“Drinking water brings fever. My husband died of such.”

Rauxana shrugged. “Fermented drink is forbidden. Besides, your wells are too close to your privies. Your women empty their household pots into the streets. Your people do not bathe. Never have I smelled such a stench in this land. Little wonder there is fever. At least you do not stink.” Her eyes narrowed. “I'd have to scrub you if you did. You'll not bring fleas into the master's bed.”

“I do not have fleas,” Isabel scoffed.

Rauxana peered at her intently for a long moment, clearly judging the matter for herself. For all her submissive behavior when Jacques was present, she was not meek. She finally gave a graceful shrug before making a slow path across the tent, as though making sure Isabel had time to admire her. Her hips swayed in a slow, sultry motion. Isabel sat on the far side of the tent. Rauxana smiled at her before she crawled up onto the bed and lay across the foot of it. She opened her robe, letting Isabel see several inches of her body. She stretched her arms above her head and then laid her head back while she watched the door.

“The master will be here soon,” she purred.

It had to be a sin, the way Rauxana was so eagerly anticipating sharing intimacies.

But…Isabel was fascinated.

Rauxana wasn't preparing for her duties with prayer and courage. Her lips were set into a contented little smile and her expression was full of expectation.

Not of a duty that must be shouldered.

But in anticipation of pleasure.

Isabel blinked, not sure if she was seeing this correctly.

Rauxana suddenly laughed, shifting and rolling up to look at Isabel. “Why are you Christian women so brittle?” She shook her head. “You are no virgin, yet you are shocked by the welcome I would give my master.”

“Why do you call him your master?”

Rauxana looked surprised. “Because he owns me,” she said without hesitation. “If he had not bought me, I might have ended up in a brothel or an overcrowded harem where I would have to worry about being poisoned by the master's older wives as I fought my way to his bed and a position as his favorite.” She suddenly sat up, her hand closing around the bedding like a claw and narrowed her eyes. “Do not think to take my place in his bed. I am his favorite. You are a duty.” Rauxana glared at her. “Cross me and I will poison you.”

She would, too. Rauxana's eyes were bright with determination.

“There are no slaves in England,” Isabel said. “Such is against the law.”

Rauxana slowly shook her head. “I saw the master buy me. Nothing you can say will undo this. I must live the life fate has given me. Or else I am a shameless creature. There is no place in paradise for such.”

Isabel softened her tone. “Just as you did not wish to be one more among many, I do not wish to be a duty. Help me escape and there will be no need to worry about me taking your place.”

Rauxana's eyes brightened for a moment before she shook her head. “I would never displease the master. He must obey his father.”

Isabel fought the urge to jerk on her bindings again. She couldn't panic. She needed her wits. “You could be his wife if I were gone.”

Rauxana slowly smiled. “I will be. When I please him enough, he will grant me permission to have his child.” Determination edged her tone. “When I give him a son, I will be his wife.”

She lay back down, stretching herself out like an offering.

For a long moment, Isabel battled self-pity again. Outside the tent wall, the men were getting drunk. She could hear their voices rising. Cracks of laughter split the darkness as the camp followers came out to earn their keep. Horror gagged her. She fought it but there was no way to defeat it. She looked around, her attention settling on a knife.

Maybe…with the cover of darkness, she might slip away.

The tent flaps opened, letting a gust of night air inside. The wooden poles creaked slightly as the flaps settled back into place.

“My pet,” he drawled as he took a moment to acknowledge Rauxana. She moved her legs and thrust her chest forward so that the robe slid down to bare one of her breasts. It was crowned with a dark nipple.

“And my duty.” Jacques turned to look at Isabel. “The priest will not be here until tomorrow. Perhaps you can learn something tonight about pleasing me.”

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. She jumped but his hand was so big his fingers closed around her fragile limb. He tugged her toward the large chair and quickly tied her to the frame of it with a length of rabbit skin. He secured her wrists behind her, leaving her leaning against the side of the chair.

When he stood back up, he smirked, satisfied. “Tomorrow…I'm going to fuck you. With or without the church's blessing.”

He turned and moved toward the bed. “I certainly don't have a blessing for you, my pet…”

Isabel should have looked away.

But she couldn't.

It was her shame that made her look at the couple on the bed. The shame of knowing that when her husband took his last breath, she had felt relieved. It was by far the most horrible thing she'd ever done.

Rauxana rose to her knees and let her robe slip down her arms to puddle around her like liquid fire.

Something else drove Isabel to keep watching—the dark memories that haunted her sleep. Those intensely clear recollections of being beneath her husband. The pain, the helplessness.

There was no such horror on Rauxana's face. She smiled invitingly as she undid Jacques's belt. She moved slowly, sliding her fingers along his body. Baring him little by little until they were both in naught but skin.

Then she kissed him. Not on the lips, but everywhere else. She trailed her lips across his chest, looking like she was savoring the taste of him.

“Suckle me…”

Jacques sounded pained. He pressed her head toward his member and she trailed kisses down its length as well.

“Suckle me!” he demanded.

Rauxana looked past him to where Isabel was watching. Power and triumph glittered in her eyes. For a moment, all of her true feelings were displayed on her face. She stroked his member with a single hand before sending Isabel a hard, promising glare.

Isabel couldn't have looked away if a priest was standing in front of her. Surely this was something that Mildred had told her ladies didn't need to know about.

Why?

It surely looked more pleasurable than what she'd experienced as a wife.

Or
what
Ramon
made
you
feel
with
his
touch?

Aye. There was no other way to answer but to admit the truth.

“That's it…more…” Jacques was working his member in and out of Rauxana's mouth, his backside flexing as he labored. “I'm going to let you suckle me before I fuck my wife…” His breathing was labored. “And when my seed is ready…I'll pump it deep inside her…and have you suck me hard again…”

He gasped, grunting before pulling free of her mouth.

“But tonight…you'll ride me to the finish.”

Jacques climbed onto the bed. For a moment, Rauxana faced her. Hate simmered in her eyes before Jacques flopped onto his back and demanded, “Mount me! Show my wife how to ride a man.”

Isabel looked away at last, unable to bear the controlling nature that she recalled so well in her husband. The bed was rocking, groaning as the couple on it fucked. Isabel didn't cringe over the harsh word. It was appropriate.

“You'll be my pet…and my wife can swell with child…yes…
YES
…”

Jacques was yelling, his voice strained before he gave one final yell and the bed ropes stopped groaning.

Not long after, the soft sound of his snoring filled the tent. There was a creak from the bed ropes and a soft sound of fabric rustling. Isabel looked up to see Rauxana closing her robe. She moved across the tent on silent feet. She pinched out one candle and then another, until there was nothing but darkness.

And then she came toward Isabel.

There was only a hint of light coming from the fires burning on the other side of the tent walls. A touch of crimson and yellow that flickered and danced off the blade of a knife. Isabel was happy to see the blade, for it promised her something other than what Jacques had.

“I will be his wife,” Rauxana whispered.

She knelt in front of Isabel and lifted her hand with the knife in it. Isabel wasn't afraid, only regretful for the night she'd refused Ramon. It was an opportunity lost now. Just as her life was about to be snuffed out. Life was suddenly such a precious thing. Something she hadn't truly appreciated.

She had never enjoyed being a woman.

Rauxana slipped the blade between the chair and the strip of rabbit skin, jerking it up and snapping the binding. Isabel fell away from the chair. Rauxana grasped her arm and cut through the length that held Isabel's wrists together. Isabel was half sprawled on the ground but all she could do was look at the severed bindings in shock.