Joanna Davis - Knights In Shining Armor (5 page)

**********

              Emeline slammed her door behind her, breathing heavily. Tears were already spilling down her cheeks from the moment she'd left the hall. She hadn't been able to stop them from falling.

              How could she ever have cared for him? More than anything, the position he was putting her in, whatever was to come, that was what hurt the most. That she'd been fool enough to love him.

             
Love
.

              It had been so long ago. Perhaps he had once been kind but he had changed dramatically. It hurt too much to imagine that she'd been completely blind to his character. He'd been shy and gallant when they'd met by chance all those years ago. An unlikely and secret friendship had grown from there, with weekly meetings in the remote gardens of her fathers house on the rare days the trainee soldiers were allowed free reign. There had been letters too. Wonderful long letters full of promise. He'd even given her his family ring. It was a modest gold band but it had meant everything to her. She had truly believed he loved her and that they would be together.

              Until the day that everything had changed. Her parents had sat her down and announced that she was to be married. She'd protested, even attempting to run away, before they'd broken down and told her the truth. That her father had lost everything in a game of cards to Lord Fairhaven. Their town house, the country estate, everything. That the old man had seen her dancing at a ball and would forgive her fathers debts. On one condition. He wanted her.

              She probably would have gone through with it willingly if it were not for Rowan. She'd written him several frantic letters explaining what had happened before she'd run away, hoping he would meet her in Calais. Of course, she never made it that far.

              That was the last she had heard from him. She'd never stopped writing though. It had kept her sane during the next few years when her husband kept her under lock and key, like a prisoner in her own home. No, not like a prisoner. She actually was one. And now, after one year of relative peace on her own, Rowan was going to imprison her again.

              It was far worse this time though. Because she had once loved him. She knew now that he had never cared for her at all. He only saw her as an object to slake his lust on. To use.

             
His whore.

              The word ripped through her gut, making her bend over in pain. She stared around the room wondering how long she had. She wasn't ready to leave yet. She needed a plan in place, supplies, someone to escort her all the way across England. She wasn't even sure if her aunt yet lived. Perhaps if she just hid, he would be more reasonable in the morning. Maybe he would relent…

              Her tapestry hung on it's frame. She stared at it, her heaving sobs slowing to a stop. Then she tore it down, sending the broken frame crashing to the floor.

              She snatched her cloak and was gone.

Four

              Rowan opened the door to his chamber, fully expecting to begin the difficult task of soothing the angry beauty in his bed. He knew he'd bungled his announcement in the Great Hall but he wouldn't allow that to ruin this night that he'd waited so long for. He would gentle her with his hands and mouth… he felt the blood rushing to his loins as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

              He was greeted by an empty room, with no sign of Emeline. He turned in a circle, dumbfounded. Surely she wouldn't willfully disobey him? She wouldn't dare… and yet, it seemed she had.

              He stormed from his room and grabbed the first servant he could find. It just happened to be Peter, the guard. The last person he wanted to see at that moment. His jealousy came rushing back. He grabbed the guard's shirt and pulled him in close.

             
"Where is her room?"

              The guard didn't flinch as Rowan hissed into his face.

              "If you let me go, I'll show you."

              He followed the guard down the hallway and through another chamber where things were stored. In the back of the room was the entranceway to a narrow stairway that led up the tower. Peter pointed to it.

              "It's up there, my lord."

              Rowan pushed past him and darted up the spiral stairs. He was already imagining ways to punish her when he found her. He would keep her from eating for two days. No, that might make her ill. She'd sleep without blankets. He envisioned her nude body shivering on his bed while he lay nearby, trying not to touch her. That would not work for the same reasons. He couldn't bear the thought of actually harming her. But he had to make sure she would be obedient. Starting tonight.

              He climbed the spiral staircase thirty feet into the air before he saw the entrance to a parapet. He continued past it without pause. In another moment he was at her door. A heavy wooden door that locked from the inside.

              He was about to pound on it when he realized it was open a crack. He pushed it and it swung open easily. He could tell immediately that few people had been inside this room. It was Emeline's own secret hideaway. The chamber was a perfect circle, with two high windows and a third entrance that led to a balcony. It was plain to see that the balcony empty. So was the room.

             
Where was she?

              He couldn't resist the urge to look around her room. To touch her things. He tried to imagine her when she was just married to a much older man, spending her time up here where she felt safe.

             
Safe from what?

              If she'd been in trouble, and he sensed intrinsically she had, why hadn't she sent for him? Even then, even after she had betrayed him, he would have come to her aide without a moment's hesitation. Hadn't she known that? Perhaps unconventional noble girls such as her had flirtations by the dozen. Perhaps he was the one who had taken their words of promise to heart without cause.

              He stared at the small bed in the corner of the room. Up here, night after night, dreaming of… what? A better life? Maybe, just maybe, she'd dreamt of him every once in a while.

              There was something on the far side of the room. He walked over to it. A pile of broken wood and fabric lay on the floor. He lifted it up and stared, suddenly feeling as if his chest was cracking open.

              It was a finished tapestry, beautifully wrought. She'd been working on a this for a long time. It was a stylized version of their garden. The small corner of her father's estate where they'd meet behind a high hedge, hidden from view. It was exquisitely made. She had a fine hand for needlework and the eye of an artist. It must have taken her years to create it.

              He frowned, running his hand over the heavy fabric. Had she destroyed it because of him? Because of what he'd said at the table? He felt hope erupt inside him, all the way down to his bones. No matter how suddenly she had abandoned their secret courtship, it seemed she had cared for him after all.

              "I'll show ye where she is, if you promise not to harm her."

              He turned to see Magda, the servant, standing in the entrance to the room.

              "Why would you do that?"

              "Because if you don't find her until tomorrow, ye'll be angrier."

              "That's true."

              "Swear it."

              He might have laughed. A Lord bargaining with a serving woman. But he had to find her. If this wench held the key, he'd promise her anything.

              "I won't harm her."

              "Very well."

              She turned and walked to the stairwell. He followed her, straining to hear her words.

              "She started hiding here after the first time she ran away. When he'd call for her at night."

              Rowan felt as if a rock dropped in his gut.

              "She ran away?"

              The crone laughed.

              "Aye, and more than once! She didn't much care for the way the master treated her."

              He frowned. He couldn't tell if the old woman was implying that Emeline was a spoiled girl or if her husband had been cruel to her. He had been a hard man by reputation. Hard and incredibly wealthy, dying without an heir.

              "He was cruel?"

              The old woman said nothing, just glanced at him over her shoulder with a look of incredulity. She led him out onto the unused parapet. Halfway across the castle there was a small room built to protect the guards on watch during inclement weather. It wouldn't do much for the cold, but it would keep out the rain and the snow.

              Magda pointed to it and he brushed past her.

              "Remember your promise!"

              He ignored her, an urgency to reach Emeline overtaking him. He pushed the door open and saw her immediately. She was curled up in the corner, huddled into a ball. Her eyes widened when she saw him. He didn't hesitate. He simply lifted her up into his arms and carried her back to the stairwell and down.

              "Put me down."

              "No."

              "Please-"

              "Shhhhh… we will talk inside."

              He glanced down at her as they reached the storage room and saw her panicked expression. He squeezed her reassuringly but it only served to make her more fearful. He decided to wait to deal with her fears once they were alone in his room.

              He stalked down the hallway and kicked open the door to his chamber. Once inside he lowered her to her feet and closed the door firmly, sliding the lock into place. Then he turned and stared at her.

              "Why did you hide from me Emeline?"

              "I- was afraid."

              He took a step forward and she immediately took a step back.

              "Afraid that I would hurt you?"

              "I don't know. Yes."

              He continued walking toward her with steely determination. She continued walking away.

              "Stop running Emeline."

              She shook her head violently.

              "Come here."

              "No."

              "Do you want to be punished for disobedience?"

              "I don't care."

              He smiled at her sensuously.

              "You don't?"

              Her legs slammed into the bed.  She'd backed herself into a corner, right where he wanted her. She glanced down and gasped when she saw where she was, shimmying to the side.

              "Are you sure?"

              "Wha-what?"

              He reached out and pulled her into his arms.

              "Are you sure you don't care?"

              Her eyes widened as he lowered his head to hers. He moaned as their lips met. She was stiff in his arms but he didn't let that dissuade him. The taste of her was intoxicating to him. He slanted his lips over hers hungrily, trying to nudge them apart. He lifted his head to gaze down at her.

              "Hmmm… open your mouth sweeting."

              She shook her head no, a panicked look in her eyes.

              "I'm not going to hurt you love. Just let me kiss you."

              Her mouth opened in a little circle of surprise and he lowered his head to hers again, slipping his tongue inside. He delved his tongue into her mouth again and again. She didn't react at first, just stood in his arms as if she were in shock. Perhaps she was. He'd never kissed her like this when they were courting. Those had been the chaste kisses of an inexperienced boy. But he couldn't stop- couldn't resist tasting her now that she was finally in his arms.

              He pulled her against him so that her breasts crashed into his chest. He moaned at the contact. She felt so sweet and delicious. He told himself to slow down, to be gentle, but his body had other ideas.

              She pushed against him suddenly, wrenching herself from his grasp. They stared at each other for a moment before she burst into tears.

              "Don't cry sweeting."

              She held her hands out in front of her and edged along the bed toward the fireplace. He watched her with the intensity of a bird of prey watching a mouse.

              A delicious little mouse.

              "Don't- ca- call me that!"

              "Emeline-"

              "Don't call me that either!"

              He laughed.

              "What am I supposed to call you sweeting?"

              She  glared at him and then made a mad dash toward the door. He caught her easily, pulling her back into his arms. He lifted her and carried her to the chair in front of the fire. She didn't struggle as he sat and held her tenderly on his lap. He nuzzled her neck with tiny kisses while she cried.

              "Come now, I didn't kill your silly goat."

              She lifted her eyes to his, green eyes searching blue.

              "You didn't?"

              "No, I didn't. How could I when you clung to the damn thing like a mother?"

              She giggled in startled relief. He grasped her chin and lifted it.

              "No more tears now. That's a command."

              She nodded, refusing to look at him. He was sure she was as surprised by the mercurial change in him as he was. This felt right though. His mind was working furiously, trying to figure out a way to tell her that he would be kind to her now. That he had been angry. His feelings toward her had changed the instant he saw the tapestry in her chamber.

              He still didn't trust her, but knowing she had regretted leaving him had changed his attitude dramatically. She was a gloriously lovely treasure, and should be treated as one. He would protect and coddle her, and take her to bed as often as possible.