Ravished (4 page)

          He sat in silent
contemplation for long moments, studying the dying fire, before Constance came
back in to bid him good night.

          Bronson grabbed her
arm before she could leave.

          “Brother?”  Her
eyes revealed her confusion.

          “I wouldst speak
with you ere you go.  Do you speak the truth?  That that child bested a man
full grown?”

          Constance laughed,
her manner gone easy once more.  Doubtless she thought his fears for her of no
pressing concern.  “Of course, Bronson.  I am not in the habit of telling
untruths to father.”

          Bronson did not
believe so puny a boy could have fought and won against a thief intent on his
prize.  The lad scarce reached his shoulder and was as slender as a girl.  Oh,
he didn’t doubt Constance had seen as she claimed.

          He knew the ways of
men, however, and suspected it had been arranged by the boy. 
Lord
Alex
Montague was after a far greater prize than a mere purse.

          “You will have
naught to do with him, Constance.  I forbid it.”

          She looked as
though she just realized he still held her and pulled herself free.  “I am no
longer a child for you to protect from every comer.  Father is fond of him--”

          “Father is fond of
everyone.  He would take in every stray if he could.  Sometimes I must protect
even him from himself.”

          “You cannot do it
all, Bronson.  And you go soon to your own house, your own marriage.”  She
suddenly looked serious, no more the care free girl he’d thought she’d remain. 
“I would have mine before I am too gray.”

          “I do not need be
reminded of my obligations, but I will remind you of your place.”  He could
have kicked himself for the hurt he saw on her face.  He always managed to say
the wrong thing as far as she was concerned.  He had little experience
controlling females, and Constance was as headstrong as the rest of the
Blackmore brood.  ‘Twas hard for him to realize she stood before him a woman
full grown, not the little girl who’d once crawled on his lap, crying for a
mother.

          Constance blinked
rapidly, clearing her eyes.  “I will do as father has taught me, you can be
assured.”

          He noted the
defiance evidenced by her stubborn chin and squared shoulders as she left the
room without turning back.  He no more believed she would obey him than she
would father.

          Father had allowed
her her head far too often.  He would not allow some deceptive whelp to bring
misfortune to their household, nor to her life.

          Besides, she was a
Blackmore, and she had obligations to the family name.  Just as he did, just as
his brothers.

          Bronson thought of
his own engagement with disgust and cursed the chains of duty and honor.  As
first born son and heir, his life was not his own, far less even than his
siblings.

          He breathed a heavy
sigh and rubbed his stubbled jaw, distracted.

          It was time to put
the boy in his place.

CHAPTER FOUR

          Alex closed the
door, sinking against it in relief, her knees weak.

          Bidding her
strength return, she looked at her surroundings.  To the right, a fire burned
in the hearth, banishing night’s chill and dark, while a bath had been prepared
thoughtfully near its warmth.

          The bed looked as
though shaped from a single piece of wood, dwarfing the room with its size,
mattresses stacked up to nearly her waist.  Scenes of wolves hunting,
frolicking, living were carved in relief on the head board.

          The Blackmore’s
propensity for wolves unnerved her.  She felt too much a lamb readied for
slaughter as it was without reminding her of the predatory nature of men.

          Her clothing had
been set atop a massive chest at the foot, and she hoped no one had questioned
her possession of a jar of paste.

          A polished metal
mirror completed the contents of the room.  The room was functional, sparse,
and perfect.  Privacy was all she required.

          Her stomach
grumbled, but she ignored it.  She had been offered food and drink, but she’d
declined--too tense to eat tonight.

          A bath was the cure
for her anxiety, however.  She mustn’t let it go to waste.

          Throwing off her
cape and plumed cap, and almost her wig, she decided against removing it.  She
would wash her hair when she felt more secure.  Peering into the mirror, her
reflection was distorted, but she could see the beginnings of a bruise
blossoming on her forehead.  It would be a wonder if she suffered no lasting
effects from Firedancer’s antics.  Blast his training!

          She removed her
short wool tunic and slashed doublet, dropping them to the floor.  Kicking off
her shoes, she progressed into the room.  Stopping at the bed, she peeled off
the short drawers that concealed her sex and flung them and her thick hose onto
the bed before moving to the far wall.

          Steam wafted
through the room as Alex broke through the veil hovering above the water like a
mist and eased into the tub.  The heat of the water scorched her, but it was a
welcome pain that eased the ache of her body and soul.  She dared to relax and
closed her eyes, sighing in contentment.  She’d been on the road far too
long....

          A frigid breeze
blew across her damp skin, banishing her equanimity.  Her lids snapped open,
and she sucked a sharp breath in at the horrific sight she beheld.

         
Constance!

          Alex huddled in the
water, sinking in until only her head remained above drowning level.  She
summoned the most forceful tone she could muster under the circumstance, “My
lady, you must not be here!”  Shock closed her throat to only the weakest of
squeaks.

          Constance shut the
door and walked inside, hips swaying, a smile spread across her impish face. 
Devil take the girl!

          She had cleaned
herself and dressed in what she supposed must surely be provocative attire. 
Her sanguine gown made her skin look exceptionally pale, the bodice trimmed in
Spanish lace, cut low and tight to enhance her charms.  The hanging sleeves
were tied up on the shoulders, revealing wide, embroidered undersleeves.

          Alex had an ill
feeling in her stomach, and lack of food was not the cause.  This could only
bode ill for her.

          “My father assures
me ‘tis entirely proper for the lady of the house to assist guests at their
bath.”  She pushed her full sleeves up her forearms and grabbed a washing
cloth, proceeding toward Alex with the inevitability of the plague.

          “Nay!”  Alex shrank
back.  “It is not done, surely not by a maiden.”  Escape plans whirled through
her head with the speed of a diving falcon.  Saints!  Why had she not barred
the door with some immovable object?

          Alex rose in the
water just enough to snatch the cloth from Constance’s hand.

          Constance chuckled,
eyeing Alex.  “You have strange ways, my lord.”

          Alex almost laughed
herself.  The girl hadn’t a clue just how strange....

          “Get thee gone,
woman.  You know not what trouble will arise should you be found here!”

          Constance ignored
her and took the sodden cloth back, rubbing it with soap.  Alex caught hold of
it again and they tugged it between them before Alex’s strength of will
dominated and it landed with a splash between her legs.  Constance reached for
it immediately, but Alex was quicker.  She grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

          They were close now
... too close.

          Alex was furious. 
“Does your father entrust you to my care so implicitly, even for so short a
time?  He does not know me.  I could take advantage of you.”

          “Would you?” 
Constance looked eager, brazen wench, and leaned forward as if to kiss her.

          The door slammed
open.  Alex’s jaw dropped as her gaze flew to it.

          Lord Bronson
stepped through the doorway.

         
Death.

          Destruction.

         
TORTURE.

          Alex gaped at him,
her plight forgotten for a finite moment.  Midnight hair, unfashionably long,
hung loose around his shoulders, framing his face.  Far from looking soft and
womanish, he had the look of a dark, avenging angel.  And she had the distinct
feeling he’d known Constance was with her.  He had removed his armor, and she
could see he was nearly as broad without it.  Alex felt better that he hadn’t
come prepared for battle, but then, she would hardly put a dent in his hide
with a mace, let alone her bare hands.

          He strode into the
room like an enraged bull.  “Get off her,” he said, his voice deceptively
quiet, revealing none of the animosity apparent on his face.

          Get off
her
! 
If Alex had been able, she’d have been outraged.  As it was, she could think of
nothing but a chanting prayer--
please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me
.

          Constance pulled
her arm from Alex’s nerveless fingers. 

          “Out,” Bronson bit
off the word.

          Constance wisely
said nothing and stood.  He held the door open for her then shut and locked it with
a key when she’d gone.

          “Nothing
happened--” She clamped her mouth shut.  Her protestations could sound nothing
but
damning, even to her own innocent ears.

          Alex watched his
fluid movement across the room, wary, knowing a storm had been brewing and was
about to hit.  She wondered that he didn’t rend her limb from limb, but the
distance provided a flimsy, protective barrier.  She couldn’t help but be
impressed with his grace, even in anger.  She’d always thought large men
clumsy.  She certainly felt rather maladroit herself--but this was not her
doing!

          “What made you
think you could put your hands on my sister?”  He met and caught her stare from
across the room, his gaze near physical with its intensity.

          Had he gone blind? 
She was the one who’d been molested.

          Alex glared at him,
which was apparently the wrong thing to do.

          Lord Blackmore trod
across the room, quick as a viper, and snatched her half out of the tub,
looking confused when he felt cloth instead of skin in his hold.

          Alex started
babbling.  “I assure you, I have no designs on your sister.  I wish to leave as
soon as my horse is rested.  On the morrow I go--”

          “Why are you yet
clothed?”  He looked down her chest, over her belly to where her body
disappeared into the water.

          Alex felt her skin
scorch as he raked in her appearance.  A strange heat enveloped her, hotter
than the water.  Insanely, she wondered what he would think if she’d been
completely bare.  She looked at herself uneasily, thankful her paranoia had at
least allowed her to think ahead to some dire possibilities.  The linen shirt
clung to her body, her sparse curves diminished with padding and binding that
she dared not remove--not while she was under the Blackmore’s tender care.

Thinking
fast, she said, “I was washing my garments, milord.”

          His mouth quirked
and he released her to go sliding back into the tub.  “We have washerwomen for
that.”  A dimple revealed itself beguilingly, and she thought for a moment he
would lose his fierce edge and smile.

          He did not, and he
said no more.

          Sitting on the
tub’s edge, he measured her with his gaze.

          Alex shifted,
uncomfortable with his assessing scrutiny.  Her shirt had caught air when she’d
landed, and began floating slowly to the surface, baring her with its passage.

          Casually as she
could, she stealthily moved her hand and pushed it back down.

          He seemed not to
notice and said, “I know why you are here.  At first, I thought you some lord’s
catamite, for you are far too comely to go unnoticed at court, but I have seen
you eyeing your surroundings, judging our numbers, sizing up our holdings.”

          What the devil was
he speaking of?  “I assure you--”

          “Cease your
prattle.  I will say my piece and go.”  He paused a long moment and met her
eyes.  “You will stay away from my sister.  She is spoken for.  I will not have
some pissant fortune hunter trailing after her.  Blackmores do not break their
vows.”

          Without giving her
the opportunity for rebuttal, he stood, gave her a last calculating glance, and
walked away.