Love Never Lies (34 page)

“How did you find me?” She breathed in a long gulp of air, befuddled by his nearness, still shaking with reaction from his sudden appearance.

He turned to stand the pitchfork against the wall.

Her gaze flew past him to the door, the only means of escape.

But before she could take a step he stood towering over her again. “I arrived at Barak’s camp just in time to spy you galloping off down the road.” His steady gaze pierced her like a hot knife. Clearly he was not in good temper. “I’d have caught up with you before this, if not for a stone in Mercury’s hoof, rendering him almost lame.”

She took a step back, yearning to flee, but with him standing only an arm’s length, there was no chance of that. He would just drag her back. Frustration turned her tone sharp. “How did you get here then?”

“He was fit to ride, though barely, at a plodding pace.”

 
“And Barak?”
She feared the answer, but had to know. Despite all Barak had done to her, he was still her kin.

“Hot on our heels, no doubt.” Impatience edged his tone. “I had to make a choice—catch up with you, or send him to hell. ‘
Twas no time for both.”

Isabeau heaved a great sigh.
“Praise God!
Though he’s wronged me sorely, I’d not wish him dead—gelded mayhap, but not dead.”

Fortin cast his gaze heavenward. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“’Tis likely you’d change your mind if you knew the whole truth,” she said, her tone turning weary.

“Nay, I would not. Evil doesn’t rest in a man’s bollocks, though many a maid might think so.” He sent her a mocking look. “It lives in the depths of his heart.”

“That may be true, but if Barak was a eunuch we would not be having this discussion right now. He’s sinned much more than trying to marry me against my parent’s wishes. In truth, none of this would have happened if not for him and Father Clarence’s unholy lust.”

“What are you saying?” Fortin’s blue gaze narrowed only to widen again. “He’s the one who got your sister with child?”

“Yea.”
Isabeau sighed. “
Him,
or our Priest. Only God knows. He admitted as much. He would have raped me as well, if I hadn’t escaped when I did.” She shivered. ‘Twas shameful to admit one of her kin had committed such a foul act. As heir to an earldom, Barak would inherit great responsibility. ‘Twas frightening to think ‘twould pass to such shaky hands.

“Then he has more to answer for than trying to cheat me.” Fortin’s tone
came
harsh, but held little shock. But, why should he be surprised. His opinion of her family could hardly get worse. “But for tonight, I’m content with disrupting his plans.”

He might be content, but she certainly wasn’t.

After all she’d gone through.

Freedom had eluded her once again.

If he thought she would allow him to drag her back to Highburn without a fight, he was much mistaken.

He unbuckled his sword,
then
laid it aside, settling his backside down in the hay. “I suggest you get some sleep,” he said, regarding her through half-closed lids, stretching his long legs out before him while making a pillow with his arms behind his head. “We leave at first light.”

“Rest?”
Her voice rose to a fevered pitch. “How can I rest, when you and my cousin contrive to steal my future from me?”

“Go to sleep, Isabeau,” he said, closing his eyes, sounding not in the least concerned. “Things will look brighter come the morrow.”

Brighter?

Yea, verily for him!

The brazen rogue!

As he had possession of her once again.

Preventing the alliance put him in good standing with the King.

Ransoming her filled his coffers.

Either way he won.

Isabeau’s throat tightened. How she regretted giving herself to him. She could see now, it meant nothing to him. He held no affection for her. He did not even care what happened to her. Surrendering her maidenhead would not save her from Newbury or Barak. When Barak paid the ransom she would be at his mercy again.

It served her right. She had thought to use Fortin. Instead, she was the one who felt used in the end.

But there was nothing she could do at the moment. Though her frustration ran high at finding herself a prisoner once again, Fortin’s relaxed pose brought to mind her own exhaustion.

Hunger had long since fled, chased away at the first sight of him. She might just as well grab a few hours of respite while she could, wait to plan her escape with a mind well cleansed.

She padded to a spot some feet away to make her pallet in a separate nest of hay. With her safety secured by his presence, she could finally get some rest. Her troubles would still be there come the morrow, but if she managed to wake before Fortin, she might gain the upper hand.

She might finally escape.

***

Morning came in faint strokes of pink, peaking through the slits in the grey planks, painting the golden hay. Isabeau rose on her elbows with a start, her heart racing, her breath coming hard. She blinked against the light, trying to discern her surroundings.

 
No trees, no musty leaves, just sweet smelling hay.

The old nightmare had returned, but this time the beast chasing her had a face. ‘Twas Barak haunting her dreams all along, only she had not realized it until he attacked her in the woods. Praise God she had had the strength to fight him off, or she wouldn’t be able to live with
herself
.

His attack should have put an end to her fears, but instead, the dreams had begun again, only stronger—more frightening than before. Worse still, if Barak paid the ransom, the nightmare became real again. And if he didn’t pay it, what would happen to her then?

There was no sense appealing to Fortin. Her welfare did not concern him, other than what profit she would bring. He had said as much to her on many occasions.

The creak of the door brought her to her feet.

Fortin strode in, carrying a bowl of steaming porridge.

So much for getting the jump on him.

He appeared well-rested, if not invigorated after a night spent nestled in the hay.

Isabeau gazed down at her crumpled grey kirtle, feeling as though she had been dragged through a knothole.

“Eat,” he said, shoving the bowl toward her, “We have a long ride ahead of us.”

She accepted the wooden bowl, flicking him a resentful glare. Apparently he hoped to fatten her up before sending her to the chopping block again. Just the same, her teeth tingled at the sweet smell of the honey drizzled over the steaming porridge. Her mouth watered in anticipation before she sat down to begin shoveling it in.

Not until she was halfway through the contents of the bowl did she glance up to discover him watching her.

He stood some feet away, arms crossed in front of his wide chest, brows drawn together, his mouth curved in a half smile. “I’ve never known a woman who enjoyed food so well. You moan to that spoon like a lover does to a pair of lips.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

Memories of how smooth and sweet his lips tasted, sent tingles rushing over her limbs. Her gaze fell back to the bowl. “I beg your pardon, my lord but I’ve not eaten since Ram and Talbot shoved me in a sack.”

“’Twas convenient they knew where to find you.”

The suspicion in his tone snapped her gaze upward again.
“’Twas nothing to do with me!
The last thing I want is to marry Newbury. Why else would I sacrifice my virtue? Had I known the matter held no sway, I’d never have relinquished it in the first place. But then you knew that all along, didn’t you?”

“I suspected as much at the tournament, when he failed to make it one of the conditions.”

“How curious.”
Her tone turned wry. “Yet somehow you forgot to caution me?”

“’Twas your decision to lose your maidenhead, not mine.”

“So you just went along with my plan, forsaking all chivalry.”

A hoot of incredulous laughter burst from his lips. “What man would not? You should know by now, I’m hardly a saint.”

Her ire rose. “You deliberately misled me,” she said pointing the spoon at him.

His tone turned soft. “‘Twas the only way you’d share my bed.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“’Twas your scheme, not mine.” He shrugged. “I but honored your request.”

She set aside the half-eaten bowl of porridge, sending forth a loud huff. “A request I would never have uttered had you given me the least reason to suspect I was wrong in my assumption.” She came to her feet, meaning to sweep past him to the door.

He captured her by the arm, saying smoothly, “But you did utter it, and the deed is done. ‘Twas neither by mischance or seduction you shared your body with me, Isabeau.
But your choice.
Remember that before you start pointing an accusing finger at me.”

His cool blue stare set her heart racing, scattering her wits and leaving her tongue-tied.

She turned again to leave.

This time he did not attempt to stop her, but she felt the heat of his gaze on her with every step she trod to the door.

How
was it
that one look from him could do so much—leave her empty-headed and quivering?

No other man had made her feel thus.

Why must her body betray her now—to an enemy—a man who had brought nothing but ruin to her name?

Nay, that was not quite true. She had done that herself, by offering herself to him. And since then, nothing had been the same. She could not look upon him without thinking of it, without wondering at Hilda’s claims.

But, if lovemaking was such bliss, why had she not experienced it?

She gave herself a mental shake, pushing away such wanton thoughts. Lovemaking was meant for the sanctity of marriage. ‘Twas wrong to give into selfish desires of the flesh. It flew in the face of all she had been taught. But, so had what Father Clarence had done.

What would Maddie say? If she knew that her charge had forsaken all, she would burn with shame.

***

Riding before Fortin on Ram’s steed brought Isabeau fresh torment.

Just her luck Fortin’s destrier had gone lame. Towing Mercury behind slowed their pace, lengthening the time spent with her back pressed against Fortin’s hard chest. Her nipples tightened with every bump, sending hot sparks licking over her until her flesh burned.

 
By the time they stopped to make camp for the night in a glade beside a stream, her nerves were stretched so taunt she had begun to shake.

When he helped her down, his hands lingered around her waist over long.

She flinched and turned away, hastening to the stream, gurgling under a stand of alders, to wash away the dust that clung to her hands and face.

The icy water numbed her flesh, but did little to quell the heat in her veins. She kept remembering that bubble—the warm feel of Fortin’s skilled hands touching her skin, making her writhe in ecstasy, turning her belly inside out.