Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) (7 page)

Footsteps approached her door. Even now the clutch of
Mandrak's witches were outside her chamber, eagerly feeding on her anxiety.
Iliana bit her lips, fingers clenched tightly as she pondered her next move.
She would have to find a way to stop this madness, this edict by a queen who
wanted only to control the lands she held and the lucrative gems she traded.

How dare that scoundrel come here! For a brief moment, up on
the tower, the wind all around them, pushing his hair back cleanly from his
face, a thought had intruded, how could one so evil look so -- so devilishly
handsome and carefree? She shook her head, clenching her fists at such feeble
thoughts.

With dismay, she found him not as she expected. Everyone
knew of the beast's exploits, the man's cruelty, the sport he took in killing.
The memories in her thoughts from many years ago, his attack on an innocent
girl in this very place...

He had no sense of honor.

"By all that is holy, he was amused!" Iliana threw
her gloves to the bedding, then frowned, trying to recall that which puzzled
her about the Beast. In truth, she knew very little about him. Angrily, Iliana
yanked wool hose and the baggy chausses down over slim knees, then kicked them
off. Of course he was different; who would not be after a passage of four
years? No doubt he had honed his skills of savagery to new levels.

"Mistress, may I help you?" Agnes, her personal
maid, pushed open her chamber door, then quickly bent down to retrieve the
crumpled hose.

"The witches -- have they departed?" Iliana asked.

The maid nodded soberly. "Aye, that they have,
mistress, ere I wouldna come near this chamber. Perhaps I can offer comfort of
sorts now that that one is here."

Maid and mistress were direct opposites. Iliana was of
medium stature, while Agnes, although several years younger, was a girl of
immense height, her arms brawny and muscled from hard work. Until she had come
to live within Dutton Keep, there had been many a season she had helped tend
her father's flocks and turned a field for plowing. But now, the fields lay
half tilled, last year's crops rotten and wasted in the barren soil.

Iliana's shoulders slumped. "I must think on what to
do."

Agnes turned and closed the door, letting the iron bar drop
into place.

"Mayhaps a romance will be in the offing," Agnes
disclosed hopefully. "He is a man of immense appetites, from all I
hear."

Incredulously, Iliana turned to stare at her. The servant
girl had a faraway look in her eyes. Iliana grimaced, her lips turning down.

"There will be no romance, as well you know," she
said abruptly. "There are no happy endings, just wives who do their
husband's bidding and must be content with their lot until they are fortunate
enough to die." Even as she said the words, Iliana rebelled at such
thoughts.

Agnes looked at her mistress and Iliana grimaced to see
Agnes shaking her head sadly. She had only just become her personal maid and no
doubt had been told of her Mistress' sometimes strange ways...

"How is the wee one, mistress?" Agnes bent down to
the cradle at the smiling baby. "Never have I seen such a contented
baby."

Iliana smiled, also moving toward the cradle. "Dear
little William, such a sweet face, just waking up from his nap."

Reaching into a wooden chest at the foot of her bed, the
maid shook out a rich blue kirtle. Iliana stood still in her linen shift, arms
upraised, then allowed Agnes to drop the kirtle over her head, and she fastened
a slim leather girdle about her waist. Lastly, Agnes picked up the small
jeweled dagger resting upon the bed furs and held it doubtfully in her palm.

"I will wear it, of course I shall," said Iliana,
seeing Agnes' hesitation. "He shall be in no doubt as to my state of mind
regards this matrimonial matter."

"Milady, if I may say so, all the village -- indeed,
all of England must surely be aware of your state of mind."

Iliana smoothed the gown over her hips, dark brows quirking
with surprise, then pleasure.

"Surely, you jest, Agnes? Why should all of England
care?" Of their own accord, her lips began to curve upwards. The knowledge
that many knew of her distaste for the Beast pleased her. After all, she
reasoned, why should men not bear the consequences of what they reap?

"If only your sister Graziela were here to help you share
this burden."

Iliana looked at her, surprised. "Do you think Graziela
would welcome news of Camdork's arrival? He is the reason she resides at the
monastery," she said swiftly. "He is the reason she never rises from
her sickbed."

Agnes bowed her head. "Yes, my lady."

"Agnes, tell me what you know."

"They say your trade in rare gems stirs interest in
London. The queen is worried about such ventures in the hands of an unmarried
woman, begging your pardon, mistress. It is said that the queen wishes a direct
interest --"

Iliana twisted around to look at Agnes, alarm on her face.
"Tell me all you heard them say about my trade? Well you know, Agnes,
these gems are all that keep the people alive. Surely they cannot take that,
too?" But the queen could make her marry that scoundrel; indeed, it was
all but done. With growing despair, Iliana knew her lucrative trade in gems
could easily be wrestled from her. She was a woman with no family or husband,
no liege lord to protect her interests. They could easily invade her trade,
thereby snatching all real joy from this wretched life.

Deep in thought, Iliana moved to sit on the small bench
beside the window, tilting her head so Agnes might work the comb through her
hair. Her gaze rested on the distant forest as she pondered her possible
future.

"It is bleak, Agnes." She turned on the small
stool. "And what of William? What will become of him?"

"The little one will grow up as boys do."
A boy without a father
.

Although it was accepted that women bore children without
the protection of a man, for Iliana it went against everything she believed,
for her son to be without a father. But indeed, what could she do about it?

Iliana grabbed the maid's large hand. "Did the men
follow my orders?" she asked.

Agnes resumed the combing as she nodded. "Aye,
mistress. Not a man raised their hand against that one's army."

Iliana relaxed once more. "It is a simple matter that I
would practice defiance, but I cannot allow others to become embroiled in this
affair."

"Milady, if you don't mind my saying so, any of the men
would gladly lay down their lives for you." Agnes' young voice was
passionate, her soft brown eyes sparking as she pulled the comb through a
tangle of hair.

"Here, Agnes, be calm." Good naturedly, Iliana
gripped the young girl's hand. "I understand your passion, but do remember
my poor scalp."

Immediately, the young girl was all apologies. "I beg
pardon, mistress, I am new to this and sometimes forget myself." Gently,
Agnes stroked her mistress's hair. "Such hair I have never seen. You are
truly blessed with hair like golden sunshine."

Iliana looked at her maid, not saying anything, used to
others seeing her hair as golden blonde. Another mystery, not easily solved.
Another spell. Only she and the witch Sorenta knew her hair was darkest brown,
as dark as little William's hair.

Iliana turned to face Agnes. "How is your shoulder,
Agnes? Does it feel any better?"

Agnes smiled and rubbed the shoulder. "Oh yes, my lady.
Last night I had a wonderful rest and did not stir once until the morn. The
shoulder seems to be healing."

"I have more crushed gemstones to place beneath your
shoulder at night. We should continue the healing at least until the new
moon."

"Thank you, my lady. I thought I should live with the
pain of a twisted shoulder for the rest of my life."

A loud knock suddenly sounded on the door of the chamber.
"Why -- whoever can that be?" Agnes demanded indignantly, hurrying to
the massive door. She swung the bar on its bolt, ready to blister the offender.

Pulling open the door, however, her face changed. Watching
her, Iliana noted her maid's ruddy complexion was suddenly suffused with yet
more color. The open door obscured whoever it was from Iliana's sight.
Nevertheless, Iliana experienced a sudden tightening in her chest.

"M-my lord --" Agnes stuttered, stepping back. Her
mistress' comb clattered to the stone floor as the girl pressed her hand
against her breast. Iliana's head jerked sharply, and she came to her feet, the
hair on the back of her neck standing upright as slowly, the door opened wider.
Feet braced on the threshold of her sleeping chamber, the sword he had taken
from her point down on the stone floor, stood Camdork.

"You are the last man I would ever invite into my
chamber," she said angrily. "Be gone."

"I merely return what you left behind," he said, a
roguish grin on his lips. He held up her sword.

"You have returned it," she snapped. "Now
go."

¤¤

Erik drew his gaze from the comely serving woman to stare at
the mistress of Dutton Keep. With lively interest, he noted Iliana's attire, a
plain, unadorned gown which flowed to her ankles, the deep color enhancing her
rich blue eyes.

Iliana's complexion paled, full lips thinned as if with
pain, yet Erik swore sparks flew from her eyes upon first seeing him. Her fury
hit him like a physical wall and she looked as welcoming as a Nor'easter in the
Catskills. 

"That's a cold how-do-you-do, to be sure," he
remarked with a lopsided grin. "However, I admired your earlier
unconventional welcome to such a degree I felt I should follow the tradition,
thus serving my own unorthodox welcome upon you personally and away from prying
eyes."

Face growing pale, Iliana stepped back from the blond giant,
trying to ignore the sparkle in green eyes and the smile on his lips. He bore
many battle scars, and a long scar that ran from his neck across his cheek and
toward the back of his head. A fearsome injury, she thought.

With detached interest, she noted it did not detract from
his features. How could such a beast have an angel of a face?

He had shoulders wide and muscled beneath the loose fitting
tunic he now wore. In his hands he held her wavy sword, and now he made to toss
it on the bed furs.

With a screech, Iliana put out her hand to stop him, and
then lunged across the bed. Quickly, she jumped off the bed furs to the other
side of the bed, reached down to lift William from his cradle. He stared up at
her, his eyes their usual bright green, always with a smile lurking. How could
she not smile in return as she pressed him to her breast?

"You have a child?" Camdork said into the silence.
"An infant," he muttered.

She turned her back on him. "You might have maimed him
in your carelessness."

"There was no danger," he said, his voice suddenly
tense.

Iliana turned back as Agnes came to take the baby.

"Mistress, I will see to the wee one's fresh
garments."

"Thank you, Agnes." Pressing a finger to William's
nose, seeing his smile, Iliana let Agnes take him to be changed into dry
clothing.

"We shall go below to finish this conversation,"
she said to Camdork, every instinct warning her against the smile curling his
lips. "Agnes, will you bring William to me when he is changed?"
Iliana was momentarily caught off guard by the enthralled look on the maid's
face as she stared at Camdork.

"Agnes?" Iliana's voice was sharper than she
intended.

Face reddening guiltily, Agnes nodded. Surely Agnes was not
attracted to such a man!

Iliana backed up several steps as he dared to advance into
her chamber, a room that suddenly felt too confining due to his size. His eyes,
their very strange color of green, bothered her, as did their intensity. He
indicated the sword he still held.

"It is a finely crafted blade," he mused, one hand
lingering against the steel. "And quite odd, I might add, to see such a
weapon."

Transfixed, Iliana could not tear her eyes from him, from
those long fingers which caressed the intricately curved hilt of her sword.

"Thank you for returning my sword."

He looked up slowly, caught her gaze with his own. Iliana's
pulse began to race frantically, while a strange, sickening heat enveloped her
body, making her incredibly lightheaded. Her stomach churned with fear and
queasiness. The man was making her sick!

He smiled, his teeth straight and even. "It is surely
the labor of a real craftsman, a light blade fitted so neatly for the hand of a
woman."

Iliana's mouth grew dry, loathe to tell this man anything.

He flipped the sword, staring with great interest down the
curved and waving blade, then his gaze pinned her with its intensity. "I
have seen this type of flamberge rapier in a private collection," he said
slowly.

"That is impossible," she said. "It is my
design."

He raised a brow, but did not argue the point. "I have
never met a lady so well versed in the art of fencing."

"I have been taught by the best," she said,
raising her chin. "This is not London court, where one relies on the queen
for protection."

Laying the sword gently on the bed furs, he let his gaze run
over her slender arms beneath the filmy sleeves. Iliana stepped back.

"You wield it skillfully."

She thought for a moment he was complimenting her skill, but
surely he must be mocking her!

"Say what you have come to say and be done with
it." She tamped down the note of desperation, hoping he did not recognize
it as such. The memories of four years ago kept playing through her head. The
attack. The blood... "You are a monster to toy with me this way," she
muttered, unable to contain herself any longer.

He towered over her, seemingly in no hurry to put her out of
her misery as he glanced about her sparse bedchamber. For surely it was misery
and terror which gripped her and made her feel so ill, her hands and feet like
ice.