Sword for His Lady (8 page)

It's more like anticipation…

There were times she loathed not being able to deceive herself.

“Stop that frowning. The king could have sent someone worse,” Mildred chastised.

Isabel felt her temper flaring again. She stood up, irritated by just how quickly Ramon de Segrave was able to destroy her poise. Just the mention of the man was enough, it seemed.

You're the one who insisted on him bathing…

Heat licked at her insides and crept into her cheeks.

She sought out her bed, grateful for the fact that her chamber was one place where she would not have to deal with the baron. But Mildred followed her, intent on finishing their conversation.

“You'll have to think about it, my lady.” There was a hard note in Mildred's voice. “Barons are not the sort to be denied what they crave.”

“I have nothing from the king that orders me to wed him, Mildred,” Isabel muttered. Mildred pressed her lips into a hard line for a long moment as silence filled the chamber. A soft pop from the fire across the room made Isabel flinch. She happily removed her wimple and laid it on a table with a sigh. There was no garment she detested more. Having her hair smashed against her scalp drove her insane.

Mildred drew in a deep breath. “That man doesn't look like he is planning on leaving.” She used a firm tone and waved the two other girls that were in the chamber toward the door. Isabel sighed when they were gone. Mildred helped her lift her pelisse up and over her head, leaving her in a thin under tunic. Mildred didn't have to help her disrobe, but she did anyway, and Isabel was grateful for their friendship. Mildred gave the heavier over gown a few shakes before laying it carefully over the back of a chair. Isabel pulled the under robe over her head and traded it for the worn one Mildred offered her. She slept in her oldest under robes. A few mended spots and thin fabric were no concern once the candles had been snuffed out.

“You can see right through that now. The fabric will fail completely in a few more washings, mark my words.”

“Well, until then it is soft and comfortable.” As well as the first thing that had pleased her since the baron arrived. “I can see to myself, Mildred, go and tickle your grandson.”

Mildred smiled and nodded before heading toward the door. “Brush your hair out or the fairies will come to steal your dreams and leave you naught but nightmares.”

Isabel picked up the comb that was laid carefully on the long table sitting against the wall of her chamber. It was a silver one her parents had given her. In spite of how many years ago she'd received it, the comb still shimmered in the candlelight.

Isabel had been too sour with her friend today. Left alone with her thoughts, she felt guilt nip at her.

Two wide candles were set into wooden holders on the table. Their flames flickered yellow and orange. She sat on the side of the bed and pulled her hair over her shoulder, working the tie free that held it in a single long braid.

* * *

The
way
to
keep
Ramon
de
Segrave
at
bay
was
to
make
certain
the
man
was
busy.

Isabel woke with a start as the thought crossed her mind.

Of
course
.

It was simple logic.

She rolled over and out of her bed, ignoring how cold the stone floor was. Her toes smarted so she hurried to get dressed. Despite the early hour, there were others stirring. Spring was a busy time—they wanted to have enough to eat during the next winter. She could hear voices floating up from the kitchen and movement in the yard.

“You are up early, Lady Isabel.”

She stopped so quickly her skirts kept going and fell back against her ankles with a soft flutter. Ramon de Segrave was blocking her path, his sword in hand. His hair was tousled from the night but his dark eyes were clear and alert. He turned the sword with an expert motion and sheathed it.

Something fluttered through her insides. Something she forbade herself to take note of. But she shivered anyway.

Ramon was wearing only his breeches and a shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

You
saw
him
in
less
yesterday…

She focused on his face, only to find his lips curved in a grin.

“Dare I hope you are eager to see me?”

She was shaking her head before she recalled her purpose. “In sooth, I was seeking you. Or your captain.”

The baron's grin faded. “Bring your needs to me, Isabel.”

He was using her Christian name on purpose. There was a glint in his eyes that dared her to take issue with the familiarity. The intimacy.

You
are
overly
sensitive…

Perhaps she was, but Ramon was overly sure of himself.

“Since my squire has yet to rise, you may assist me.”

“I think nae…”

He raised one eyebrow and his lips curved again, this time into a full, arrogant smile. He opened his arms wide, making his shirt billow and split open farther to give her a glimpse of his powerful chest.

“I will happily stay in naught, if that pleases you.” He reached down and grasped the bottom of his shirt. “I did not dare to hope the needs that have you searching for me were of so personal a nature.”

She jumped forward, pressing her hands against his chest to keep the shirt in place. His body was warm against her fingertips, setting off another spiral of sensation in her belly. She gasped, recoiling, but he followed her, pressing back against her and trapping her hands beneath his.

“I should like to discover more of our reactions to one another.”

She tried to tug free but he stepped toward her, backing her into the wall. Her eyes widened as he planted his hands on either side of her, caging her.

“I made my position clear, my lord.”

His eyes were full of promise. “As you can see, I am very good at changing your position. I suggest we try many different positions.” His tone was dark and alluring but his words were a reminder of cold, hard reality.

“Aye, men enjoy putting their wives into whatever places they like.”

His expression tightened. “You accuse me unjustly. One man's sins are not another's to answer for.”

“You are the one holding me against the wall.”

He shrugged, the motion drawing her attention to just how powerful his shoulders were. The scent of his skin drifted between them, drugging her, dulling her wits.

“And you put your hands on me first.”

“Only because you were going to…to…” Her memory offered up a crystal clear recollection of what he looked like in only his skin, and her breath got caught in her throat.

He chuckled softly, lowering his head so that his lips hovered next to her ear. “I never make idle threats.”

She growled and shoved at the wall his chest made in front of her. “Enough toying with me! The sun is up and only a fool wastes daylight.”

“You tempt me to sin, in more than one way.”

She gasped.

He grunted but moved aside. “Be pleased with me, for I am bending to your dictates.”

He moved back across the floor and scooped up his tunic from where it was lying over the back of a chair. A length of wool was laid out on the floor in front of the hearth, marking where he'd made his bed.

“You are not bending to my will.” She had no idea where the persistence to argue with him came from, only that she had no control over it. “You are not an idle man.”

He looked at her once he'd donned the tunic. “My actions are both.”

Her lips suddenly twitched and she shook her head. There was a ridiculous urge needling her to flutter her eyelashes. She'd already done it twice before she quelled the impulse.

“Why do you question me, Isabel? What reason have I given you to doubt me?”

His tone was sincere, drawing her toward him as she tried to read his expression. There was a clink as he pulled his sword belt around his lean hips and secured it. His squire came hurrying into the room when he spied his master already awake. Ramon lifted his hand and the boy skidded to a halt. The lad turned and left.

Ramon retrieved his sword from where it was lying on top of his bedding and sheathed it. His boots made soft sounds on the stone floor as he closed the distance between them once again.

“You are correct; I am not idle, nor do I care for guessing games.” He stopped in front of her and stared at her. “Why have you set your mind to argue against a match between us?”

“Why have you set your mind to accept it?” His eyebrows lowered but she didn't give him time to reply. “For if it is your own holding you crave, you do not need to wed me for it. I will show you where my quarry is and you can have the stone you need to build the castle you want.”

“You have a quarry?” His tone had dipped low, his eye narrowing.

Disappointment swept through her. It really shouldn't have. She should have been pleased to see him realize he didn't need her keep. Yet, the feeling persisted and settled into her chest, like a hard stone against her heart. But she nodded.

“So you see, you do not need Thistle Keep.”

He clasped the pommel of his sword, staring at her from behind a hard mask. She stared back at him, letting the sight of his displeasure sink into her. This was the reality of what men were—hard and calculating. They always had a purpose.

“I would like to see your quarry, Lady.”

Lady.

Of course he was formal now, for there was no reason to woo her.

So why was she not pleased?

* * *

They heard the stone workers cutting before they saw them. Isabel controlled her mare as Ramon's war horse nipped at her. The mare hurried forward, trotting down the winding road that led into the quarry. It was a huge cliff of rock; the workers pushed the moss back to reveal it. Every stone of Thistle Keep had been carved from it, and many of the buildings on her husband's family grounds too. The stone was valuable and might be sold or traded for the things her land did not provide.

Men looked up, lifting their hands to shade their eyes and see who was coming.

The baron's flag caused an uproar. Men whistled to the other men working farther up on the rock face. They began to stumble down. Many of them were older men, some were the lucky survivors of the king's last Crusade. Several limped from wounds they'd endured while fighting in the Holy Land. They staggered to the bottom of the rock face where a wagon was being loaded.

Isabel slid off her mare, but Ramon swept the area twice before dismounting. His knights were equally untrusting. Ramon looked up to see that four of his men had remained on the crest of the road where they might see any trouble approaching. But Ramon stopped and looked at the large stack of finished stone. She only sold off small amounts in order to keep her quarry secret, so the remainder was substantial.

“The king does not know you have this,” Ramon said.

“I have not deceived him.”

Ramon cast her a knowing look. “Yet you have not gone out of your way to let him know your full worth.”

Isabel didn't lower her eyes.

“I pay my due, my lord, but make sure my people have enough to thrive.”

Ramon slid his hand along the edge of a stone block. “You do, and quite cleverly too. But you would have been wed long ago if it were known you had such a prime source of stone on your land. You would have more coin in your coffers if you had sold off some of this, but that would have drawn the attention of prospective grooms.”

It was true. Her cheeks colored slightly, but she didn't look away because she couldn't deny how pleased she was. “Is it so terrible to want to be seen as something more than a resource?” For a moment, she saw understanding in his eyes. It was the last thing she expected. “I suppose you know something of that position yourself. How many years did you ride with the king?”

“I barely recall a time when I did not.”

She nodded, finding them oddly equal in that moment.

“Men are not the only ones who can manage an estate well.”

His expression hardened. “Yet you have no means of protecting what you have.”

Her chin rose, pride warming her blood. “I have a stone keep to bar against invaders. One built with stone that I discovered. No one suspected there was naught here but more marshland. I found this place and my husband ignored me because as a woman I could never know the difference between worthy stone and that which is not.”

Surprise flashed across his expression. “Well done, Isabel. Well done, indeed.” His lips thinned. “But why were you this far from the keep?”

She walked past him to greet one of the senior stone masons lined up and waiting for them. The older man squinted at her but reached up to tug on the corner of his wool cap.

“Do not let me keep you from your work.”

The man nodded but looked past her to where Ramon stood. His squire was standing beside his lord, holding a pole with his master's tenant flag fluttering in the breeze. None of the masons moved.

Of course not. Ramon was the highest ranking person there. It was for him to dismiss those waiting.

Isabel felt her temper flare. Ramon locked gazes with her, giving her a glimpse of the unmovable side of his nature. Of course, she'd already decided that there was nothing bendable about the man. Still, the look he gave her made it clear he knew he was trampling her authority.

Men.

“Ambrose.”

Ramon's captain quickly dismounted and approached his master. “Survey this site. I want to know what resources we have to work with.”

Another stab of disappointment went through her, frustrating her completely.