Love Never Lies (14 page)

Not that it mattered.

He wasn’t giving her much choice as he held her fast, dragging her toward his steed.

The thought of being in such close contact with him set her heart racing. “I prefer to ride the palfrey!”

He gave a harsh laugh. “I’d prefer it as well, but since I can’t trust you to follow, you may not.”

She opened her mouth to answer,
then
snapped it shut, knowing full well it would only be a lie.

He knew as well as she did, she’d escape the first chance she got.

***

The sun sank too slowly for Alec’s taste. Streaks of pink still pierced the cloud-ridden sky, but he was anxious to make camp. Holding Isabeau in front of him on Mercury’s back was like staring down a table laden with sweets he couldn’t reach. The upturned curve of her lips held a promise so delicious it made his mouth water. But to give in to his yearnings would only mean defeat.

The siege had cost him dearly. He needed the ransom for Highburn to prosper. Returning her to her uncle sullied would reduce the ransom considerably. She was worth much more with her maidenhead intact.

It made his blood burn to think she’d already spoiled his plans, bartering her favors to escape. He should have kept her under lock and key. But at the time he had been too distracted by the siege to consider what bawdy habits Hilda might have taught his prisoner in his absence, supposing she was a virgin in the first place, which he could not be certain of.

On the other hand, her lack of virtue would save him a great deal of frustration. He could take his pleasure at his leisure without regret. Better she spent her time in his bed, where he would be the one to benefit, rather than someone else’s.

“We’ll spend the night here,” he said, pulling Mercury to a halt.

When he lifted Isabeau down from the saddle, she made haste to put as much distance as she could between them, which amused him more than a little, remembering her passionate response to his kiss at the monastery. If she was a virgin, she was the lustiest one he had ever met.

Alec tethered Mercury to the low branch of a pine,
then
set about building a fire, keeping watch over her out of the corner of his eye at the same time. Though, even if he did trust her, which he did not, no man could keep his eyes off a maid such as that. The fresh bloom of her cheeks and the sweet curve of lips begged his attention.

Even as she paced, slashing him accusing looks under her lashes, she moved with a confident grace that led him to speculate on the shape and length of the legs on which she traveled.

Only when he sat down to open the sack containing their eventide meal of cheese and cold partridge did she condescend to join him.

They sat by the fire eating in silence until he could stand it no longer, the question burning a hole in his brain blazed a path to his lips. “Was Edric the first, or have you bedded other men?”

The cheese she had been breaking off pieces to nibble went still in her hand. “What?”

“Don’t play the innocent with me. You must have offered him something to help you escape. He wouldn’t have turned traitor for nothing. I only hope ‘twas worth the punishment of added sentry duty in the dead of winter, and standing at the church entrance for the whole of lent.”

A flicker of something akin to regret passed over her face, but not convincing enough to absolve her of guilt.
“Nay!
You’re wrong. Edric is falsely accused. He didn’t help me in any way.”

“I charged him with the task of watching over you. He allowed you to escape.
‘Tis enough.
I had hoped his honor would overcome his lust, but it seems not. The attraction was too great for him.”

Her face grew amazed. “You bade Edric watch over me?”

“A shepherd won’t eat his own sheep.” At least that was his hope. “But it seems
,
I underestimated your charms.”

Her cheeks flushed as red as her lips. “Edric did not fail in his duty. He was drunk and busy spilling the contents of his stomach ere I fled. He could not have stopped me if he tried.”

 
“Then ‘twas neglect that aided you. Either way, he’ll have plenty of time to consider it.”

She shook her head and looked away, apparently giving up on her false pleas.

Yet her concern left him curious, forcing him to ask, “Why should you care about Edric’s fate?”

Her eyes narrowed to smoky slits, before she lifted her chin. “He was very kind to me. I’d not wish to see him suffer.”

“’Tis unfortunate for you, your family didn’t grant me the same consideration. But never fear
,
your dowry and ransom will do well enough.”

 
“A handful of silver?”
She rose to her feet to brush the crumbs from her kirtle. “If that’s all that satisfies you, then your heart is not only bitter—your soul is corrupt.” She gave a short humorless laugh. “But take what you will—my dowry, my future. I’m happy to help.” She turned on her heel,
then
marched toward the encroaching woods.

His gall rose at finding himself at the sharp end of her tongue, but he could not help but admire her pluck, or feel a prick of guilt that she should be the lamb at the altar of her family’s sins.

But it was too late.

One thing had led to another and here they were—together, for better or worse.

The world was full of wolves and lambs.

He could not change that.

‘Twas a foolhardy thing to come chasing after him in the first place.
Did it never cross her mind that she might get caught, or what might happen if she did? Nobles were captured and ransomed every day, like meat bartered at market. She knew that.

Did she expect him to apologize?

Ha!

His plan for revenge was in motion; and like an arrow in flight, he could not call it back, even if he wanted to.

Fate had dumped her at his feet for a reason. ‘Twould be foolish not to take advantage of such a gift.

Besides, it was a matter of honor.

Through money or pleasure, he would have his pound of flesh.

“Come one step closer, Fortin, and I’ll lay this stool about your head!” Isabeau stood between the hearth and the wooden tub, breasts heaving beneath the curtain of her wet hair as she panted for breath, no longer caring that only a towel shielded her nakedness. Her gaze searched the small solar for something more lethal to throw.

A dagger would be most welcome, but a heavy oak chair was all that was left.

The clay ewer and wash-bowl already lay shattered in front of the door, beside the wooden bucket used to fill her bath, inches from where Fortin’s servant, Myrtle, cowered in fright.

“Leave us,” Fortin commanded.

The skinny old woman whispered something behind her hand, the expression on her pinched-face a curious blend of guilt and triumph. Then she scurried through the opened doorway with her hands held protectively over her gray head.

“Put it down,” Fortin said in soothing tones, edging toward her. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

“Hurt me! Do you know what that impudent hag tried to do?” Isabeau shuttered remembering how the woman had shoved her finger between Isabeau’s legs while she lay soaking in the bath. She still could not believe how the old crone had braced her arm across her chest, pinning her against the tub while she rooted inside her like a capon needing to be stuffed.

“Yea.”
Fortin’s tone was matter of fact, possessing not so much as a sliver of guilt. He did not even blink. “I instructed her thus.”

Isabeau ushered forth a feline growl, letting go of the stool at the same time to send it catapulting toward his head.

He deflected it with one arm and seemingly little effort. It went crashing to the flags in front of the door beside the rest of the mess. His blue eyes narrowed, bright flecks lit in their depths like sparks.

“You told her to do that to me—to touch me in that way?” she said, with a gasp. She was so angry she could hardly catch her breath.

She spied a pair of tall iron candlesticks standing by the fire.

She raced to make a grab for them.

But before she could heft them, Fortin was there to wrench them from her grasp.

Isabeau came at him just as he tossed them down, pounding at his chest, blind with rage, tears streaming down her cheeks.

When she reached up to claw at his face, he captured her by the wrists. “Hush, Cherie! Would you rather I had examined you myself?”

“I’d rather you were dead!”

He chuckled. “That’s beside the point. Now why don’t you take a deep breath and calm yourself?
‘Tis over.
She’ll not touch you again.”

“Good.” Isabeau’s breasts heaved beneath the weight of her wet hair in an effort to suck in air. That he should find humor in the situation only served to enrage her further. “If that is the kind of treatment I can expect from her in the future, I’ll seek my pallet in the stables hence forth. Better to live with beasts that I’m familiar with.”

“I can’t bargain properly for your ransom without knowing your worth.” He smiled as if by apology, but she saw no remorse in his gaze.

Her ire spiked afresh. “Is that all you ever think of?” She twisted in his grasp, tingling at his proximity, suddenly aware of her naked state as the towel began to slip. “Why not weigh me as well?” she said, crossing her arms to hold it in place. “You’d have my full measure then!”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“It might come as a surprise to you,” she bit out, wondering what it would take to wipe the smile from his face, “But there are more worthy pastimes than stuffing your coffers ‘til they burst.”

“When I have what your uncle stole from me, I’ll turn to them.” He released her, taking a step back, giving her little time to consider this new revelation, though she was hardly surprised. Uncle Royce was a ruthless, unscrupulous man. ‘Twas very likely Fortin told the truth.

Fortin’s gaze roved over her with slow deliberation.

She shivered.

“But there are many pleasures I can pursue at the same time,” he said.

Anger had made her forget herself, but under his close scrutiny modesty rushed back, causing her cheeks to flame.

She crossed her arms tighter in front of her breasts to shield herself, hoping her hair covered the rest. “Then I bid you seek your pleasure elsewhere,” she said with a lift of her chin, quivering, imagining what sharing such pleasures with him would be like, yet knowing she could never give in to her curiosity. “Your company is not welcome here.”

His eyes narrowed at her cold rebuff. “’Tis a shame you’re not more like your sister. We could have spent many a pleasant hour together before your uncle arrived.” He shrugged, turning to go.
“But, no matter.
You’ll earn your keep in other ways.”

The hint of disappointment in his voice kept her gaze trained on his back as he strode for the door. After he closed it, she wondered if she had imagined his regret. Surely his words were only meant to frighten her. Why should he desire the sister of someone who had caused him so much shame?

But then, why should Barak lust after his own cousin when he knew her virtue was necessary to make a prosperous match and bring security to his family?
Men.

She would never understand them.