Joanna Davis - Knights In Shining Armor (3 page)

              The dregs hit his lips and her time was up. He'd have to think of a creative way to punish her for disobedience. Something that he would also enjoy. Something to make her more pliant and humble.

              He paused as he reached for the bottle to refill his glass. A hush had fallen over the other men. He looked up to see Emeline walk briskly across the room. She wore a pretty blue dress with a silver cloth surcoat that hugged her glorious curves to perfection. She had no need of a corset. He was glad to see she'd left off the traditional headdress as well. Her hair was loose over her shoulders. He felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her.

              She hurried across the room and curtsied. He gestured to her seat impatiently, his brusque action belying the turmoil he was feeling inside. It was the first time he'd been able to get a good look at her, dressed as the highborn lady that she was. She exceeded all his expectations. And now he could watch her at his leisure. He almost wished he hadn't ordered her to change.

              This was the girl he remembered.

              Her skin was still unblemished, her lips and cheeks rosy. Her figure had ripened to perfection. This was no longer a girl's body. Though still youthful, she was most certainly a woman. He could see now that her hair was longer than it had been, and even wavier, though that was perhaps from working in the kitchen like a scullery maid. He frowned, recalling his earlier annoyance.

              "Is it the fashion for young ladies to toil in the kitchen with the staff?"

              She blushed charmingly and looked down. All the men were casting surreptitious glances her way. He could see that all the male attention was making her nervous but he didn't care.

              "I wasn't trying to annoy you, I was merely helping to prepare the food. We are low on servants at the moment."

              "Yes, why is that?"

              "I- I sent them away until I could be sure…"

              "Sure of what?"

              She lifted her chin and faced him squarely.

              "That you would adhere to your promise."

              He raised his eyebrow. She had the grace to look abashed once again.

              "I'll send for them now. I just- had to be- sure…"

              He stared at her until she stopped talking, her words trailing off into silence. Without a word he poured her a glass of wine and placed it in front of her across the table. He watched her take dainty sips while his men made an effort to break the tension that was building between them. Kenneth in particular, was doing his best to be charming.

              "Have you ever seen a wild boar M'lady?"

              "No good sir, I cannot say that I have."

              "It's a fearsome beast, with enormous tusks, and a disagreeable demeanor."

              Rowan frowned at Kenneth, hoping he would cease his chatter. The rogue just grinned at him, as if he knew he was annoying him by flirting with Emeline. She was sparkling under his teasing attention, further irritating Rowan.

              "In fact, he bore an uncanny resemblance to our fearless leader, Captain Hawthore."

              A startled laugh burst out of Emeline, who clasped her hand over her mouth in horror. Wyeth did his best to intervene, taking pity on the girl.

              "That's Lord Fairhaven to you, you rapscallion."

              "Enough."

              His voice cracked out like a whip. He glared Kenneth into silence and went back to watching Emeline with a surly expression. She looked as if she would have rather been anywhere but there at that moment. But she was well and truly trapped and they both knew it.

              In truth she'd never been far from his thoughts. Perhaps in the heat of battle… but no, even then he'd wondered if the girl he'd once loved would care if he died on the battlefield. If she would mourn him. He'd assumed not, but it only made him fight harder.

              The food arrived before he could continue down that grim line of thought. He spent the rest of the meal drinking in the sight of her while she did her best to avoid his gaze. She looked anywhere but at him and he looked nowhere but at her. He could sense her composure starting to slip as the servants started clearing away the plates.

              Good. He wanted it to slip. He wanted her to beg for his forgiveness. Not that he would grant it. But it would be gratifying to hear her aplogize what she had done.

              She started to stand, presumably to assist the old woman and the cook. His eyes raked over her body hungrily.

              "Sit down."

              She sat down abruptly, an adorable look of confusion on her face. He was deliberately keeping her off balance, just as she had done to him all those years ago. She was finally looking at him though, so he smiled charmingly. She blinked at him in confusion.

              "Now my dear Lady Emeline, we should address the matter at hand."

              "We should?"

              The hall was quiet as everyone strained to hear what he was saying.

              "Yes. Edward had given me the stewardship of the region. He thought this castle would be an excellent place from which to oversee the large forces necessary to oversee the border to the north."

              He waited until she nodded.

              "I see."

              "Since this castle was without a leader, it seemed an ideal solution when he decided to elevate my position. Except for one thing. You."

              She was very still now, staring at her plate.

              "He gave me the final say in what to do with you. You, like everyone else who lives at Fairhaven, are now my responsibility. The King made several suggestions but it will be up to me to decide what the best course of action will be."

              He waited for a response for her. Belatedly she seemed to realize that she should acknowledge his words.

              "Oh. I see."

              Her voice sounded very small. He sipped his drink.

              "The wine is excellent by the way. Your steward has done an excellent job."

              "We don't have a steward."

              He raised his eyebrows at her in disbelief.

              "You manage the castle yourself?"

              She nodded, her eyes downcast. She appears to be attempting to shrink into the floor stones. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

              "Excellent, then you can give me a tour tomorrow. I'd like you to continue serving as chatelaine until a decision is made regarding your future position."

              "What are the choices?"

              "Excuse me?"

              "For me. You said the King gave you several choices."

              He almost laughed aloud. She'd walked right into his trap. He'd been searching for a way to tell her what the King had promised him. To reveal his ultimate power over her.

              "I believe his exact words were 'Wed her, bed her, shed her, or behead her'."

              He watched as the blood drained from her face. Her mouth opened in a small 'o' of surprise. He watched her chest rise and fall as she took tiny gasps of air.

              Now. Now she understood.

              But she didn't beg for her life or try to influence him. She just sat there, holding back tears. Utterly powerless.

              "Of course, I'm to be married after Michealmas, so that only leaves three options."

              He watched as his words sunk in. He'd deliberately made it sound as if he was considering them all. She stared at him in stark disbelief. Her hand went to her throat and he felt a pang of regret. Perhaps he shouldn't have included that last one. He wouldn't actually behead her. He just wanted her to know that he could.

              She raised her chin and asked in a voice that barely wavered; "May I- be excused please? I'm feeling poorly."

              He nodded and she was gone, hastening from the room as if the fires of hell were at her heels. One by one the men left the table until only a few remained. Finally he was alone.

              Tomorrow he would decide what to do with her.

              Not that there was really anything to consider.

              He knew what he was going to do. He'd always known.

              He smiled and stared into the fire, contemplating the future.

Three

              Emeline pinned a bland smile to her face and plaited her hair into a interwoven braid. She put on a clean, practical dress of bright green wool and squared her shoulders. She would not respond to anything he did or said to provoke her. And he
was
trying to provoke her. He had to be. For what reason she had no idea. Why else would he have said… Surely he wouldn't actually do any of those things he said he would do?

              She thought again about her Aunt Annabelle in the Scottish Highlands. It had been many years since she had seen her elderly aunt. At her own wedding in fact. Perhaps she could go there when she left. She looked around her room. Once her people were settled she would find a way to leave. But it must be before next Michealmas. That gave her almost a half year to make arrangements. She didn't truly believe he would harm her. But he didn't have to.

              Watching him wed another would hurt enough.

              She sighed and stared out the window, absentmindedly fingering her necklace. She stopped suddenly, realizing what she was doing. If he saw it… he would know she still harbored feelings for him. He would have a good laugh, knowing she had cared for him all this time while he had let her slip so easily from his mind. Him knowing was more than she could bear. So long as he didn't know how deeply he was hurting her, she could hold her head high and ignore his barbs.

              She pulled the chain over her head and stared at the simple gold ring that hung from it. With unnecessary force, she threw it into the fire, where the coal embers were still glowing faintly from last nights fire.

              She watched as it was swallowed up by the soot.

              Now he would never know.

**********

              Rowan walked through the Castle courtyard. There were servants everywhere this morning. Young, old, men and women,  though very few guards appeared. One of the men told him that they had deserted one by one after the death of their master. He'd been a hard man apparently, and had hired men of the same ilk. Men without loyalty or honor.

              Rowan frowned, wondering if that included his treatment of his young bride. Perhaps he'd been cruel to her. Or beaten her. Or forced her to his bed. Not that she hadn't had a say in the matter. After all, she had already promised herself to another. To
him.

             
He might have been a mere mister from inauspicious beginnings but he'd had more will and determination than a hundred high born young men combined. He would have provided well for her, even if it took him a little time. He'd been unstoppable once he joined the Royal Arms. At first he'd had something to prove. Over time though, he'd strove for something different.

              Revenge.

              He had known in his heart that this time would come. That a day would arrive when he'd have the advantage over her. When she needed him for something. This particular scenario was one he had never dared to imagine. But he'd had many fantasies about how his soldiering would bring him to her attention. That she would regret what she'd done. Everything he'd dreamt of had finally come to pass.

              Today.

              He had slept poorly the night before, tossing and turning. Now that he'd made his decision he could do little but plan his attack with military precision. He meant to have her and he would. There was nothing she could do to gainsay him. She was merely a woman, while he was a man and her lord and master. He'd tell her tonight after dinner, he decided with a smile.

              He'd even be a considerate lover, and make sure she was well satisfied. She didn't truly deserve his consideration, only to be a vessel for his lust. All the same, he couldn't resist the desire to see her driven wild with passion. He'd start with her lips, and work his way down her body, lavishing her with the attentions of his hands and mouth. Only when she was tossing and turning beneath him would he take her. As many times as he liked. He'd felt his body rise in anticipation. Yes, he would have her often. She could do naught to prevent him. After his plans were in place he'd slept soundly, waking only when his squire Geoffrey, arrived at his door.

              Now he was once again awaiting the lady in question, cooling his heels in the Great Hall. He had already broke his fast with a piece of bread and a mug of stout ale. Now he was impatient to be started with the day. He was impatient to see
her
. True, there was work to be done during daylight. But after that…

              Emeline appeared then, entering from the kitchen. Her back was straight and her shoulders thrown back. She looked fresh as spring in her pretty green dress. He watched her with narrowed eyes. She seemed different somehow. Proud and aloof. She was courteous when she approached and curtsied, but nothing else.

              "Good morrow, my lord. Would you like your tour of the grounds now?"

              He nodded and followed her outside into the sunshine.

             
"Shall we start with the smithy?"

              He nodded as she introduced him to Lyle, who had the incredibly muscular body of a much younger man, coupled with the wizened face of an elder. He was respectful when he bowed to Rowan. He made sure to acknowledge the man's fine work.