The Devil Claims a Wife (25 page)

Feeling very close to tears, which seemed to happen often of late, she shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she cried. ‘I wish I could tell you. Truly I do.’

‘Then I will tell you. You are mine, Jane, and what I have I intend to keep. No one will have you but me. I am your husband and I will have my due. Only I shall taste your body’s joys. And when I snap my fingers you will come.’

‘And as an obedient wife I shall obey you,’ she replied coolly. ‘Is there anything else you wish to say to me? The queen will have need of me.’

‘No. I have not yet done,’ he replied, remembering the other reason that had brought him back to Westminster. His voice took on a note of urgency and he moved closer to her, his eyes intense as they held hers. ‘Jane, you should not stay here. No, don’t speak,’ he said when he saw she was about to interrupt. ‘I know what I am saying.’

‘You want me to leave the court? May I ask why when you were so insistent that I come here—and where would you have me go?’ In spite of herself, Jane found her eyes captured and held by Guy’s blue ones. She stood and
faced him, like a sparrow mesmerised by a bird of prey, riveted by that sparkling gaze, not daring to move. It seemed to her that if she uttered a word something rare and precious would be broken. In the end it was Guy who sighed and spoke.

‘I want you to go back to Cherriot—to the castle. I have reason to believe that it is not safe for you here.’

Jane felt a sudden coldness creeping over her. ‘For what reason do you believe I am in danger?’

Drawn by the depths of the green eyes looking into his and by the freshness of the lips slightly parted to reveal moist, shining teeth, Guy had to master a passion that was in danger of getting out of control.

‘Because Aniston is here—at Westminster. His company has been disbanded and returned to London. I believe he will seek you out, which is why I think you would be safer at Cherriot.’

Jane paled. ‘Richard? He—he’s here?’ She glanced about the room, as if she expected him to materialise at any moment.

Guy nodded. ‘Yes. I would advise you not to be alone. He bears a grudge because of what happened between us.’

‘Is it me he means to harm—or you?’

‘There’s no telling what he will do. Elevated by his imminent knighthood, he believes nothing is too great or impossible to be overcome.’

‘I see. Thank you for telling me, but I have no intention of running away from Richard,’ she said, stiff with pride and anger. ‘I will not give him the satisfaction. Besides, I am protected by the queen.’

The warm light went out of Guy’s eyes. ‘Have you understood nothing?’ he said grimly. ‘The queen will not be able to protect you when you are alone in your bed, Jane.’

‘I do not sleep alone. I share a room with another of the queen’s ladies.’

He nodded. ‘Ann Rowland, who is about to go on temporary leave. She is to visit her family in Kent.’

‘How do you know that?’ Jane asked, her voice quick with indignation.

‘Because I have made it my business. Jane, you do realise that I could order you to go home to Cherriot.’

‘Order me, my lord? You would
order
me?’

Meeting the coldness in her eyes, he sighed. He was all too well aware that for him to issue an order to his wife would only serve to alienate her further. Persuasion was the best ploy to get her to do his bidding. ‘I have your best interests
at heart, Jane. Believe that. Will you do as I ask and return to Cherriot?’

‘With Ann about to visit her family, I doubt the queen will give me leave to do so.’

‘She would if she realised you are in grave danger here.’

‘Then if I am, it is all your fault,’ she flared, turning from him.

‘What is?’

‘Everything?’ she replied irrationally, tears of frustration brimming in her eyes. ‘Had you not attacked Richard, he would not be seeking vengeance.’

‘Jane.’ On hearing her name spoken softly, she paused and slowly turned to face him. ‘Come here.’

His hand shot out and grasped her wrist as she made a move to leave him. Jane tugged furiously at her imprisoned wrist, but Guy’s lean fingers were hard and unyielding. Realising that she could not free herself without an undignified struggle, she let her arm go slack and stood still, but her ire was undiminished. How could he send her away when she wanted so much to be close to him?

‘You are not leaving until I have said what I have to say,’ he said, moved by her moist eyes. ‘I am shortly to return to Windsor. As lady-in-waiting
to the queen it is important that no scandal is attached to either of us. Do you understand what I am saying?’

Abruptly Jane stepped away from him, once more struggling to suppress a look of disappointment. But, she thought bitterly, what else had she expected him to say? That he wanted her safe because she actually meant something to him? That he loved her? No. His main concern was for his good name.

She nodded stiffly. ‘I understand. Do you know where Richard is now?’

Guy released her and she snatched her hand away and stood rubbing it, her breath coming unevenly.

‘He is ill, but not in the accepted sense of the word.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ said Guy with brutal clarity, ‘that the libertine and drunkard that he is, he is suffering the after-effects of a debauch and was incapable of standing upright when I left him at a local ale house.’

‘So you have seen him?’

‘Briefly.’

Jane stood quite still, her eyes wide and frightened, and once again Guy was conscious of that bewildering pain in his heart. He said
harshly, ‘Now that you know the truth, perhaps you can understand why it is that I want you to return to Cherriot as soon as possible.’

She shook her head. ‘No. I will not run away. I came to court to be a handmaiden to the queen and this is where I shall remain.’

‘For God’s sake, Jane, have the sense to look things in the face—and do not stupidly refuse to do what is right.’

Guy saw her flinch as though he had struck her, then he turned and with long purposeful strides left her, his cloak flying behind him like the sails of a ship.

That night Jane retired to her chamber and slept immediately. It was past the hour of midnight when she came fully awake in an instant and lay staring blankly in the dark, hearing Ann’s steady breathing. Then she realised what had awakened her. It was her meeting with Guy and knowing he was close.

She hadn’t told him that she was carrying his child. Having known the heat of his body close beside her, his warm lips parting hers, his arms holding her tightly and the thrust of his maleness between her thighs, afraid he would insist on sending her away if she told him, hating
the thought of them being apart, she would nurse her secret a while longer.

Dizzy with the remembrance of what they had shared, her confusion came from the haunting sense of pleasure that now overwhelmed her. What spell had this man, her husband, cast upon her that she should want him so fiercely? She had never felt so much a woman as when she lay on his bed. ‘But he is but a man,’ she whispered in the dark, ‘with no special gift above other men.’ So why, she thought in her confusion, must he be the one to rouse her above other men?

When sleep came again it was not the peaceful slumber of before.

A measure of disquiet existed between Jane and Guy following their meeting, and a day of dubious calm passed. Her defiance had set him on edge and her refusal to return to Sinnington Castle made matters difficult for him. The only way he could make sure no harm came to her was for him to keep an eye on her himself.

Accompanying the king when he visited the queen in her apartments, Guy saw Jane seated behind a large embroidery frame by the window. Her green eyes with their long shadowing lashes were looking across the room. In
one quick glance he saw the long creamy neck exposed and the soft flesh in the cleft of her breasts, which were outlined by the tight blue bodice of her gown. Since coming to court she seemed even more voluptuous, sensuous and provocative, glowing with colour like an exotic bird. Little wonder, he thought angrily, the gentlemen of the court couldn’t keep their eyes off her.

He drew a long, harsh breath, trying to bring his temper under control. When he finally managed to do that, it occurred to him that he was condemning Jane and deciding her future on the basis of common gossip—and she had put up a good defence.

He was tempted to install her in his own chamber, but it was small and lacking in female comforts—a man’s room, where his companions came without invite. But he would often dwell on the nights they had spent together at Rosemead. He could still feel that warm, rounded slenderness in his arms and the way in which, for a long moment, she had melted against him and become so much a part of him that her every nerve and pulse and breath and heartbeat had been as though it were his own.

The memory was so intense that it was like experiencing it all over again. She was loving,
sensual and warm. She was also imperious, spirited and rebellious, and she had learned to be tough—but she was not cold, not cruel, not heartless.

The day was warm and sunny following two days of constant rain. Taking the opportunity for some recreation in the fresh air, the queen and her retinue of ladies were walking in the grounds of the palace. They were a happy, chattering group, the queen dazzling in full magnificence of jewels and ermine and smelling of jasmine.

As Jane glanced down a flight of stone steps into a yard bustling with activity, her attention was drawn to a small company of men. There were five in all, but Jane felt no inclination to move her gaze past the man lounging closest to the steps. His gaze was fixed on her.

It was Richard.

On seeing her he shoved himself away from the wall and sauntered towards the steps. He stood looking up at her, making no attempt to approach her. A hollow sickness inside her could not be appeased. His eyes devoured her with greed and she would have run from him, but she did not want to cause a scene. His eyes were bloodshot, his face bloated. He’d been
drinking. He stood with his arms folded across his barrel chest, watching her with a hard, sombre expression. Nothing in his face indicated the path of his thoughts, yet Jane felt the weight of his unrelenting gaze as surely as if it were a hand upon her shoulder.

Wanting to put as much distance as possible between herself and Richard, she turned her back on him and walked on to join the queen’s ladies.

That same evening when the queen had retired and had no further use of her, Jane left the royal apartment with the intention of retiring. The corridor which led to the stairs to her room was filled with shadows. Sconces were lit and the small windows were open to let in the cool night air. As Jane reached the long flight of stone steps, like a wily serpent Richard stepped out of the shadows in front of her.

‘Richard!’

He lurched towards her, slurring his words. ‘Did I frighten you, Countess?’

‘No—you—you took me by surprise.’ He was drunk—so drunk that he could barely stand. ‘Why are you here? What do you want?’

‘To speak to you. It is what old friends do.’

Taking her hand, he held it in a hard grasp
with fingers that were feverishly hot and unsteady. Lifting it suddenly to his fleshy lips, he planted a wet, alcoholic kiss on it.

It was not a light gesture of gallantry, but a kiss as greedily passionate as the kisses he had forced on her once before. The memory repulsed her. She tried to drag her hand away, but he held it hard, kissing it again and again, moving his hot, slack mouth against its cool softness. And when he lifted his head at last and looked at her, his eyes were as hot and avid as his mouth had been.

He stared at her for a long moment, breathing hard and unevenly, a dark flush on his cheeks and his eyes bright with a feverish excitement that was as inexplicable to Jane as it was terrifying. Her body shrank and turned cold with a primitive fear and hazy comprehension that the passion she had aroused in him was beyond her control.

She had been disgusted and shocked and furiously angry when he had kissed her before, but she had not been afraid. It had not occurred to her to be, for it had happened in broad daylight and Guy had come to her rescue. But she was afraid now. She was so frightened that for an appalling moment she thought she was going
to be physically sick from the fear that cramped her stomach.

A sound of voices and an occasional laugh came from somewhere among the labyrinth of corridors. Irritated, Richard at last released her hand and stepped away. Taking her chance to escape, Jane turned and stumbled up the steps. On reaching her room she closed the door and threw her weight against it, terrified that he might follow her. A candle had been lit and a wan glow of moonlight streaming in through the window allowed her to see the room. Her heart was racing and her teeth chattered as though with cold, and when at last she fumbled for the bolt her shaking hands could not find it. Then she remembered that she had noticed it missing on her arrival, but, having Ann to share the chamber with her and being under no threat, had seen no reason to fasten the door.

Frozen with terror, she stared at the door, wondering what to do on hearing someone—Richard, stumbling up the stairs. His intentions had a terrifying effect on her. This was no longer some nebulous evil that she had to deal with, but a concrete thing. Panic rose within her once more and she tried to fight it down. There was nowhere to run.

Suddenly the heavy door slammed back
on its hinges and Richard staggered in. The candle gutted and its disturbed flame sent shadows dancing across the room. The russet bed-hangings seemed to flutter and points of candlelight flickered in the diamond panes of the window. He stared at her standing on the opposite side of her bed. As if he were already savouring a luscious sweetmeat, his tongue flicked slowly over his fleshy lips. Jane was shocked by the glittering, pleasure-seeking lasciviousness she saw in his eyes. She watched as he lurched round the bed towards her, weaving a little in his walk, blocking her escape. With her back to the wall, she could go no further.

Then, quite suddenly, the numbness left her and gave place to sheer panic and horror. This man—this gross, repulsive, drunken man—was going to force himself on her and ravish her. That day in the woods she had first seen the evidence of the suppressed beast within Richard. Now it had re-emerged and showed no sign of any willingness to withdraw into its hiding place inside Richard’s savage heart. She bit into her bottom lip, afraid she wouldn’t be able to survive this.