Lost Love (5 page)

"Why do you treat me so? Didst thee not like me once?"

"Aye, but thee betrayed that trust, Arabella. I will never forgive thee."

With a look that spoke volumes, he turned his back and thrust open the door leaving her staring after him with a heavy heart. She would never accept this harsh man he had become. How could he believe that she would hurt him so much? If only he would accept how Mirabelle had played him, then he would cease to lay the blame at her feet, for it was only through love that she had acted so rashly.

A single tear dripped down her cheek, and she wiped it away angrily. Somehow, she was going to escape from the castle and make her way back home. She was finished lamenting the loss of Ulric Griffin. He had been replaced with the cold hearted John of Terryn, and it would seem he was lost to her forever. Raising her chin she drew in a breath, and balling her fists, decided then and there that he may be her husband, but he would never be her keeper. When it grew dark she was going to seek a means of escape, only this time, she wouldn't get caught.

* * *

John strode into the bailey and demanded two of his most competent knights, Owain and Bayard, sword fight with him. He was angry and needed to take it out on someone or something, and the best way he knew how was to train and train hard.

Arabella was getting under his skin. He wanted to hate her, to despise her for what she did to him all those years ago, but just then when he'd tasted her sweet lips, all he'd wanted to do was take her to bed—to thrust himself into her soft body and hear her sweet moans of ecstasy when he made her his. For she was his. No other would have her. The very thought gave him a bad taste in his mouth.

His jaw tightened, and he swung his sword down at Owain slightly harder than he had intended. Owain jumped back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Milord, is this just practice, or dost thou intend to wound me?"

"I beg thy pardon, Owain. My thoughts were elsewhere. I will be more careful," John apologized.

"Prithee, milord, he dost wish to keep all his limbs this day." Bayard laughed, watching them both.

Owain glanced at him. "Mayhap thee should take over as it amuses thee so?"

Bayard waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Nay, carry on.'Tis most entertaining. Besides, thou need the practice."

Owain emitted a low growl and suddenly swung his sword at the unsuspecting Bayard, narrowly missing his abdomen.

Bayard's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "God's bones man! I was only joking!" he declared.

John rolled his eyes and stepped between them, his sword pointed at one, his outstretched hand to the other. "Desist! I wanted to practice swordplay, not listen to thee two arguing akin to two old crones. Now take thy position and we willst practice together."

He pushed all thoughts of Arabella from his mind and concentrated purely on his moves, swinging his sword through the air and relishing the clash of steel on steel.

* * *

It was midday and Arabella, sitting at the dais, stared down at the food in front of her and pulled a face.

"Is something amiss, milady?" she heard John ask, sitting next to her. She turned to face him and narrowed her eyes.

"This is tripe!"

"Aye, I asked for it to be prepared especially."

She blinked quickly. "Thou knowest I detest this dish!"

He looked up to the ceiling and pondered before staring back at her. "Nay, I know no such thing."

But she knew he remembered. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel the anger rise like a bubbling cauldron. He'd done it on purpose to provoke her. She watched, as he raised his fork to his lips and chewed on a piece of the odious innards. Her father had made her eat some once, and she clearly remembered John finding it very amusing. Well, perhaps he would find this just as amusing. She lifted the trencher up and tipped the contents straight over his head. The liquid dripped down his face, and pieces of tripe sat atop his head, others sliding down his long hair to become entwined in the strands.

For a moment he didn't move, but then his hand shot out, and he captured her wrist. "Very foolish, milady." His eyes had turned as dark as coal.

"It was well deserved." She tried to pull her wrist away, but his grip was strong and made movement impossible. "Let me go!"

"Nay. Thou will come with me." Within his vice like grip, Arabella had no choice but to do as he bid. Several of the knights watched them leave, some with smirks on their faces, others disapproval. Arabella felt her face flush with embarrassment, but it worried John not.

He strode out of the main hall, into the inner bailey and then straight towards the main gate. The guards opened the gates at his bidding, whilst Arabella stumbled to keep up with his long gait.

"Whither thou goest?" she asked.

"Thee will find out in a moment."

He finally came to a halt in front of the river. It took Arabella only seconds to work out what he had planned.

"No! Do not dare….argh!"

Without a word he jumped straight into the deep water, taking her with him. She held her breath as she went under and came up spluttering and floundering on the surface. "Thou lout!" she spat between mouthfuls of water.

He trod water next to her and then disappeared beneath the surface, flicking his long, tripe-free hair off his face when he came back up. Even though she was fuming, she couldn't help but admire how handsome he looked. Annoyed with herself, she turned her back on him and swam to the river bank, which was extremely hard going, because her water logged skirts weighed a ton. Hoisting herself up she pulled herself out of the water and onto dry land. She lay on her back, panting from the exertion.

John joined her moments later and lay down next to her, his hands behind his head. "Didst thou enjoy thy swim?"

Arabella grit her teeth before answering. "Nay."

"Then mayhap thee will refrain from putting thy repast on my head in future."

Arabella snorted. "If thee deserves it, I will do it! Thou knowest full well I detest tripe and yet thee had asked for it especially. Thou art despicable!"

Suddenly, he moved onto his side and propping his head on his hand stared down at her. "It is not I that is despicable."

Arabella rolled her eyes. "Thou art referring to the past, I presume?"

"Aye. Before handing out insults, it would suit thee well to look into thine own behavior first." He stood up and held out his hand. "Come. We will return to the castle before thou catches an ague. Despite our differences, I would not see thee unwell, and the sooner thou art out of those wet clothes, the better."

She stared up at him sullenly. "Thee go back. I will dry off in the sun."

"Arabella, do as I bid."

His tone was stern, and Arabella found herself obeying him for fear of receiving another spanking. Her posterior was still tender from the morning's session, and she would rather not receive another so soon. That didn't stop her from showing her disapproval by scowling all the way home, though.

* * *

With a fresh change of clothing, Arabella set about exploring the castle again. If she couldn't escape in the day, then she was going to give it a go at night. Fendrel would surely be asleep, and the only people awake would be the castle guards. If she dressed in dark clothing and kept to the shadows away from the firelights, she had every hope of her plan working this time. She still had no coin; however, she did have two gold rings that she had found on the dais. She knew not whose they were, only that they were now in her keeping. She felt guilty that she had taken someone's possessions, but her needs were great.

She walked along the parapets and glanced down to the ground below. She was very high up, and so far, she had found nothing to give her any ideas. She leaned over and looked at the towers. Apart from narrow apertures, there was nothing to aid her escape.

The only way out of the castle was by the front gates. Guarded gates. So that was no good for her. She peered down at the ground again. If she could find a rope or somehow make a rope from drapes or sheets, then she could climb down. Couldn't she? She nibbled on her bottom lip. It was so high up. What if she should fall? She heard footsteps behind her and turned to find Fendrel walking past, supposedly on guard duty. More than likely still following her. He nodded and walked on.

She scowled and turned her back. Seeing Fendrel made her more determined that her mission wouldn't fail. With a firm set to her jaw she went off in search of some rope.

Arabella lay in bed and tried not to fall asleep; for tonight was the night she was going to escape. She'd been in bed an hour, and the castle was finally quieting down. She would wait another hour, before making her attempt, to make certain everyone was asleep apart from the guards. Her eyelids drooped, and she quickly flicked them open again. Staying awake was easier said than done. Her eyes felt so heavy. She'd never been one for staying up late, and she could feel her whole body yearning for sleep. Perhaps just a few minutes wouldn't matter. What seemed like only seconds later, she awoke to find the castle in complete silence. Blearily, she rubbed her eyes and stretched. How long had she been asleep? She glanced at the window aperture, and was relieved to see it was still dark. For one horrible moment she thought she'd slept right through until morning!

Slipping from the bed fully clothed, she drew on her small boots, grabbed her bag, and throwing a cape over her shoulders, quietly left the chamber. Stealthily, she moved through the corridors, her only light coming from intermittent torches on the walls. She had her route planned down to the last detail. Yesterday, she'd found a strong coil of rope in the stables and had concealed it in one corner. She would have to find that first, before making her way to the parapets.

She skirted the bailey, and locating the rope, she flung it over her shoulder and made her way up to the parapets.

Hunching low to remain undetected, she moved along towards the place she had decided would be the best to make her descent. None of it would be easy, but on this side of the castle, the ground was a little higher due to a rocky outcrop at the bottom. She placed the rope on the ground and went to uncoil it. As she did so she heard footsteps approaching. Quick as lightning she flattened herself against the wall, bringing the rope and bag with her. If the guard saw her now, then her escape plan was history. So was her backside, for that matter, when John found out. She held her breath hoping and praying he wouldn't see her.

Luck was on her side, though, for he suddenly turned around and went back the way he had come. Arabella released the breath she'd been holding and almost went light headed with relief. Lord, that had been close! She didn't know or care what had made him change direction, she was just thankful that he had.

When she was certain he had gone, she popped her head over the parapet and looked down. She could just make out the rocks below in the dim moonlight. Throwing the rope around the nearest turret, she tied it tightly twice to make sure it would hold her weight and then cautiously dangled the rest of the length down the side of the wall. Well, it was now or never. The never seemed particularly appealing now she was actually here, but she knew she was going to have to find an inner strength if she was to make her getaway. Securing her bag around her shoulder and neck, and taking a deep breath, she climbed up onto the parapet and took hold of the rope, wrapping it around her body for support. She'd seen one of the castle guards do the very same thing when she'd lived with her father. The thought of her father made her blink back tears. She so very dearly wanted to see him. Once he knew who she was really married to, he would make certain that she never had to go back.

With renewed determination, she took the first step down the wall. The rope gave slightly at the top, and for a moment she thought it would give way, but it tautened and stayed strong. Bit by bit, she began the descent.

* * *

John was having trouble sleeping. Whatever position he put himself in, he couldn't get comfortable. He'd doze for a few minutes, and then his eyes would ping open again. He punched his feather pillow and nestled it under his head for the hundredth time. Closing his eyes, he settled down to try and sleep, but the harder he tried the more it evaded him. Frustrated, he sat up in bed and ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps if he took some fresh air, it would aid his slumber.

He slipped out of bed and was just putting on his hose, when there came a knock on the door. Frowning, he went to open it. It was Owain. "Why dost thou disturb me at this hour?" he demanded.

Owain shuffled uncomfortably. "Thy wife is attempting to climb down the side of the castle, milord. I thought thou shouldst know."

"Climbing down the…" His jaw dropped. Arabella was actually climbing down the castle walls. What was she thinking? "Wait but a moment for me to dress. Dost thou know her position?"

"Aye, on the south wall."

He threw on his clothing in lightning speed and was out of the door, following after Owain in moments. He knew she would try and escape again, but to actually put her life in danger was preposterous.

* * *

Arabella licked her lips. They were as dry as parchment. She was half way down or half way up, depending on which way you looked at it. A bubble of hysteria threatened to erupt, but she quashed it. She unknowingly echoed her husband's thoughts: what was she thinking? Her hands were smarting, from hanging onto the rope, and she was close to tears. Well, she had no choice now but to climb the rest of the way down. Either that, or stay stuck in the middle and wait to be rescued–although the rescue would just take her straight back to being imprisoned in the castle again. Pursing her lips, she inched down little by little. Suddenly, she saw a flickering light to her right. Her eyes widened when it began to draw nearer. There was nowhere for her to hide. Instead, she stayed stock still staring at the light, hoping and praying it was a guard and he wouldn't notice her. Unfortunately for her, the light stopped directly beneath her, and an instantly recognisable voice boomed out. "What in God's name dost thou think thou art doing?"

She closed her eyes. It was John. Of course it was. Had she really thought she could thwart him? She glared down at him. "I was taking the night air. What doth thou think I am doing?"

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say, but she was angry at being caught out. It wasn't fair! Her hands were getting tired, and her fear was making her irritable. Nothing was going right at all! She'd planned it all so carefully and yet she'd been found out.

John called up to her. "Do not move another inch. Just hold on tightly to that rope whilst Owain fetches a ladder."

Within minutes, Owain was back with another guard and a very long ladder. They positioned it on the wall next to her, and she could just make out John stepping onto it. She closed her eyes. She was in for such a scolding, that was certain. She'd hoped to be away by now, far into the country, and on her way to see her father. She wanted to stomp her foot she was so cross.

John reached her level and, even in the near dark, she could see his eyes glittering with rage. He was near enough that he could reach out to her, and she felt his muscular arm slip around her waist. It was comforting to have such a solid mass to cling to. "Now, let go of the rope. I hath thee."

Reluctantly, she let the rope uncoil from around her waist and swing freely against the wall. John positioned her in front of him on the ladder, holding onto her waist whilst she felt in the darkness for a foot hold. All the way down, he kept hold of her so she wouldn't fall. Anyone would think he cared, she thought to herself. But she knew that wasn't true.

They reached the bottom, and Owain and Bayard waited silently for their orders. John instructed them to remove the rope from the parapets for the safety of the castle and then dismissed them, but not before thanking Owain for his vigilance.

Arabella stood futilely next to him, silently lamenting her failed escape plan. She felt John's hand on her upper arm and stared at him over the flickering torch. His face was set, his eyes hard. "That was one of the most foolhardy things I hath ever witnessed."

"'Twas not!" she objected. "I was quite safe."

He shook his head and peered closer at her, holding the torch aloft, so he could see her more clearly. "Hath thou lost thy senses, Arabella? Thou was oft careless as a child, but as a woman, I would hath thought thee more careful but it wouldst seem not!"

"Oh, by the rood! I could not hath been more careful. I didst not fall!" she spat angrily. He was treating her like a dimwit.

"Nay, thou didst not, but it doth not alter the fact that thee could hath fallen."

"What doth it matter to thee?" She tried to shrug free of his grip. "Thou dost detest me. If I were no longer here thou wouldst not care!"

He pulled her nearer to his side and growled, "Thou art my wife, and I wouldst care, for I own thee, Arabella, lest thee had forgotten."

She narrowed her eyes. "How could I forget?" she spat.

"Thy temper is as volatile as ever. Come, I will see thee to thy chamber."

Without waiting for her answer, he manoeuvred her along the castle walls, to the main entrance, where the guards were waiting for him. When they passed through the gates, they closed them securely with a loud thud. Once again, Arabella was imprisoned.

* * *

John was amazed at the lengths Arabella would go to escape him, but he would make sure it wouldn't happen again. He couldn't risk her doing anything so foolhardy again. First, he was going to spank her until she was truly remorseful, and next, he would lock her in her chamber until she came to her senses. He'd thought the castle a fortress, but he hadn't counted on the scheming mind of his wife.

They reached her chamber, and John pushed her inside, closing the door firmly behind them and placing the torch on the wall bracket. Arabella ran to the other side of the room, threw her bag onto the floor and covered her bottom protectively.

He fixed his eyes on her. "Come hither, milady. Do not delay the inevitable."

"Nay!" She thrust her chin out defiantly. He felt his temper begin to rise. She was a wayward baggage and seemed to think that she could disobey his command when she wanted. She had a lot to learn. He walked toward her, his jaw tight.

Her bosom heaved with indignation when he drew near, making him acutely aware of her feminine curves. He did his best to ignore the rising desire in his crotch, but it was difficult. "Thou hath just earned thyself a dozen extra smacks for that display of disobedience." He grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her towards the bed.

"Nay, John! I do not want this…nay!" She was doing her best to be difficult but her small stature meant she was no match for his manly strength.

"What thee wants, and what thee deserves, are two different things, milady. Thou knowest what thee did was wrong, and now thee will take the consequences."

On the last word he pulled her down over his lap and raised her skirts. Her pert little bottom glowed softly in the firelight, the skin like a perfect peach. Ignoring his growing desire he set about disciplining her.

* * *

Arabella shrieked loudly when the first smack landed on her bare bottom. By the rood his hands were hard! She swung a hand around to try and cover her buttocks, but he quickly captured it against her lower back, growling at her to behave.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

He soon set up a steady rhythm smacking one cheek and then the next. No amount of pleading helped. She kicked her legs, but he just swung one of his strong thighs over hers so she couldn't move. She grit her teeth and screwed up her face when each smack landed on her derriere.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Thou are most wilful, Arabella. Hopefully this will teach thee to refrain from foolhardy ventures!"

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"I…aow…thought it wouldst not matter. Oof!"

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Thou art my wife, and thee will not escape the confines of this castle again. Dost thou understand?" For emphasis he smacked both cheeks at once, extra hard.

Arabella gasped and quickly nodded. Her bottom was stinging like fury. Would she ever learn to refrain from crossing swords with her husband? She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears. It hurt so bad.

"Aow!" she shrieked when his hand landed on her sit spots, but her cries deterred him not. That big palm fell again and again on her unprotected backside, until her bottom was as hot as a log fire. He suddenly stopped but kept his hand possessively on her bottom.

"I want thy promise that thee will never under any circumstances take such a risk again."

She didn't need any prompting. She nodded, too spent to answer him with words, and lay panting over his knees.

He released her hand and legs and pulled her upright. She stood in front of him, rubbing her sore bottom, a pained expression on her face, her eyes closed.

* * *

John studied his wife. She was truly a beauty, even with her face screwed up in pain from the recent spanking. He fought the urge to kiss her, annoyed with himself for being weak. He had vowed revenge on her and had told her this marriage would be hell for her. If he kissed her now, all would be lost. He hardened himself against his emotions and stood up. "'Tis late, and I am tired. Get thee to bed."

He walked around the other side of the bed and began to remove his clothing. He realized she was staring at him, a shocked look on her face. "Aye, I will sleep with thee tonight. I trust thee not."

"I do not wish to sleep with thee!"

He raised an eyebrow. "What thou doth wish is of no consequence. Now, get undressed and climb into bed, afore I lose my temper."