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Authors: Angela Johnson

BOOK: Vow of Seduction
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Ever since she lost her mother her fifth summer, all she had ever wanted was to be loved. When she grew older, deep inside Kat feared she was not the type of woman to inspire romantic love. She was too odd and outspoken, too tall and brazen. Men were either intimidated by her or contemptuous of her unladylike behavior.

Then she married Alex and foolishly thought she could make him fall in love with her. She soon discovered her fears were not misplaced when Alex abandoned her after their wedding. With Sir Luc, it would be different. He alone offered her a chance at happiness. He would give her the child she desperately craved, someone to love without fear of rejection. Aye. She would grasp what Sir Luc offered with both hands as though clinging to a steep cliff, knowing he would never let her go to crash below upon the rocky shore of disillusionment.

 

Alex shifted back in his saddle, trying to create more space between him and Lady Lydia balanced on his lap. But Lydia did not take the hint and clung tighter. The soft flesh of her buttocks pressed back into his groin, her plump breasts cushioned against his chest. He felt the rush of his blood, his flesh lengthening.

Jesu, he was a man after all.

Lydia could have no idea of the unwilling effect her position had on him. Alex had been her first lover and she had married soon after, to a man old enough to be her grandfather. He doubted Lord Joinville had the stamina to do his duty properly and therefore thought Lydia a virtual innocent. But it was no concern of his. He just hoped they reached Westminster Palace soon. He was glad Rand accompanied them. Alex did not want to give Kat any more reason for jealousy.

Alex spurred Zeus faster. He was impatient to finish his duty to Lydia and speak to Kat. He wanted to ask what induced her to commit violence upon a lady. Though Kat was unlike any other lady of his acquaintance, this was not like her. She was stubborn, independent, opinionated, and defiant, but never cruel or vindictive. She was uninterested in ladylike pursuits, the complete opposite, in fact. She rode as well as a man and wore odd riding skirts that revealed more of her legs than he thought decent. Still, he would have no other for wife.

Her exhilarating presence livened his days, lessening the pain of his memories. It was her spirited nature that drew him, challenged him. On the other hand, she needed a strong hand to guide her, to protect her from her impulsive, headstrong ways. And he intended to be the man to do it.

But he felt as if time was rapidly passing him by, the deadline of the bargain drawing nearer and nearer. Lydia’s return to court could not have been at a more inopportune time. He simply must find a way to break through Kat’s reserve and prove he loved her and not Lydia.

If not, he feared he might be swallowed up by the dark menace of his nightmares, become a brutal savage again. A cold chill ran up his spine. In the deepest part of the night, his demons haunted him, sought to devour his body and spirit. Rotting flesh hung on the specters’ skulls, their mummy-like faces distorted. They grinned at him ghoulishly, soulless red-eyed demons that resembled men he had brutally killed with his bare hands to survive.

“Alex?” someone called him from far away.

“Alex, are you well?” Rand’s voice penetrated his thoughts.

Slow to reply, Alex turned his head to his friend. “Aye,” he lied, “why do you ask?”

Rand studied him with alarm. “All the color leeched from your face of a sudden. You’re white as bone.”

Lydia shifted in his lap. “Oh pray, Sir Alex, tell me you are not ill.” Alex looked down at her. She gazed up at him in concern, her blue eyes searching as she placed her hand on his cheek. “You have no fever. Mayhap ’tis something you ate?”

Alex smiled at her obvious distress. She was really very sweet, but he loved Kat and always would. “You need not worry about me, Lady Lydia. I have had little sleep since my return and I am but fatigued. Likely all I need is a full night’s rest.”

Lydia’s fingernails dug sharply into his back and her eyes narrowed. Then she dropped her eyes demurely from his gaze. Alex could not imagine what he said to perturb her.

Beside him, Rand chuckled. “Aye. I do not doubt it.”

Alex realized how his words had been misconstrued and his face flushed. Obviously Lydia’s reaction was from embarrassment. He gave Rand a quelling look but, not surprisingly, his friend ignored him, grinning like an unrepentant rogue.

When they reached the crest of the hill they were climbing, Rand pointed. In the distance, Westminster Abbey and the adjoining palace were nestled in a valley along a serpentine bend of the river Thames.

Alex cleared his throat. “It will not be long now, Lady Lydia. When we arrive at the palace, I shall summon your servant and see that someone tends to your injury.”

“Thank you, Alex. You are very gallant to help a lady in distress. You were ever kind to me,” she said, her voice soft and shy. But when she looked up at him, her lips were tilted in an inviting smile.

With her blond hair, pale skin, and blue eyes, she gave the impression of innocence, but in contrast her lips were full and sensual. In his youth, the dichotomy had driven him mad with lust. Even knowing her a virgin, her mouth had cried to him—kiss me, tear my clothes off and ravish me till I scream in ecstasy.

Now he was unmoved by her beauty. He understood the difference between idolization and real love. Lydia outwardly exuded the model of perfect womanhood. But Alex loved Kat for the woman she was inside, imperfections and all.

He nodded to Lydia and spurred Zeus down the hill.

Chapter 17

Lydia, her face smooth and unmarred by turmoil, lay limply in Alex’s arms as he carried her across the courtyard to the double-door entry. But inwardly she seethed in frustration. So the brazen slattern had not been lying. Lydia did not understand how Alex could desire the woman. Lady Katherine was brash and uncouth, her tall mannish form so unlike Lydia’s own delicate, though lush and inviting body.

No matter. Lydia was confident Alex would be hers again very soon and do her bidding. She had wanted him the moment she had laid eyes on him all those years ago. Alex had been young, beautiful, heir to a wealthy barony and easily led by his cock. More importantly, he was naïve to the ways of a woman determined to gather wealth the only way available to her: through marriage, whoring, or both.

Unfortunately, her father already sold her to an old, limp man who wanted to impress his friends with a beautiful young wife to hide his ‘infirmity.’ Lydia was happy enough with the arrangement until she met Alex. The man her father chose, Lord Joinville, had an ample fortune—he also had two sons to provide for. Eventually, she took care of the younger son. But his first-born and heir was too wise to lose his father’s affections through any manipulation on her part.

Still, with her talents, early in her marriage she managed to make the old man’s withered member hard enough, if not to poke her, for him to achieve gratification. And her manipulations bore fruit, because Lord Joinville assigned a modest fortune in his will to her. Then when the old man lay on his deathbed, his heir filled his ears with evidence of her infidelities. As a result, before he had died he altered her endowment to a pittance. He left her naught but her widow’s portion—several small manors that would never support her in the manner to which she had become accustomed.

Alex would not escape her this time. As they approached the residence block, a tall, gray-haired porter opened one of the massive iron-studded doors. Alex strode up the steps and entered the vaulted porch. Beyond the screen was a ground floor hall where the majority of the visitors at Westminster Palace slept rolled up in blankets next to one another like corded wood. On the first and second floors were the more private apartments for the privileged few, along with third floor turret chambers. All were parts of the extensive improvements made to the palace by King Henry, completed only ten years ago.

Alex adjusted his grip, his chest muscles flexing against her breasts. Lydia felt no pleasure in the touch, but she gazed at Alex with adoring eyes and blushed as though embarrassingly aroused.

The gesture was totally wasted on him for he was looking at the porter. “Summon Lady Lydia’s manservant. She needs assistance to her chamber.”

Lydia frowned. Something was amiss. On the ride here he barely looked at her, was not attentive to her every need. He should be unable to take his eyes off her. She knew he desired her; she had rubbed against him apurpose to incite his lust and had felt his hard arousal.

The servant glanced at Lydia. Alex glanced down at her. “Is aught the matter, Lady Lydia?”

“’Tis just…I,” she looked down and lowered her voice, “I’m embarrassed to have to tell you this, but my husband left me with little means. I have but one servant, Sara, my faithful maid.”

Alex frowned and turned to the porter. “I shall have need of one of your attendants to take the lady to her room.”

“Oh nay, Sir Alex. I beg you. Will you not take me? I shall not feel comfortable in a stranger’s arms.”

“’Tis highly improper for me to be alone with you in your chamber.”

Lydia did not respond, just dropped her eyes and bit her lower lip in distress.

The porter spoke up. “My lord, what would you have me do?”

“I will see the lady to her chamber. Summon the physician and Lady Lydia’s maid at once and send them directly to her chamber.”

The porter bowed and left. Four sets of spiral stairs, cut into each corner of the building, led up to the sleeping quarters.

“You shall have to direct me to your chamber, my lady.”

“Third floor, the southwest turret chamber,” Lydia replied in a low voice, forcing Alex to dip his head closer to hear her. Alex clutched her tighter and moving past the screen, he turned right for the nearest stairs. His steps echoed like cracks of thunder as he hurried up two flights to the second floor, then he strode down the passage and up a third flight of steps.

He carried her inside the turret chamber and looked around quickly.

“I share the room with two other ladies. But you need not worry you shall compromise me. They won’t be back for some time as they are with the queen.”

The round chamber was small and sparse; nevertheless, the four-poster bed was luxuriously appointed with furs, red velvet coverlet and bed curtains. The bed lay opposite two narrow shuttered windows that overlooked the river.

Moving to the bed, he knelt on it as he laid her down. His face extremely close to hers, she turned her head and brushed her lips against his mouth deliberately. Alex jerked back and her head and shoulders flopped down on the bed. He stared down at her in consternation.

Lydia blushed and made her eyes widen in innocent appeal. “Oh my, I did not mean…I am so embarrassed. You must think me terribly forward.”

He looked around awkwardly. “Nay, I would never think such of you. ’Twas an accident. Think no more of it.”

Lydia lowered her lids and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “But what if I cannot?”

Alex’s eyebrows raised in puzzlement. “Cannot what?”

“Stop thinking of your kiss. I can’t stop thinking of you, Alex. How wonderful it felt to be held in your arms the night we made love. And to have your lips on mine once again.”

“But ’twas an accident, surely you understand I did not kiss you apurpose?”

“Did you not?” She flashed an enticing smile.

He looked offended. “Nay. I am married now and would not betray my wife.”

She sat up, and bracing her hands behind her on the bed, thrust her chest out. “And what about me?” she said softly. “Have you forgotten your vow to me? That day I gave you my innocence? You promised to love me forever.” She smiled again. “Now that I am free, we can be together at last.”

She took his hand and tugged him. Unresisting, he sat down on the bed beside her.

“Lydia. I don’t know what to say.”

Pleased at his acquiescence, making her voice tremble, she said, “Tell me you feel the same. Tell me you still love me as much as I love you!”

Alex dropped his gaze and stared down at their joined hands on the bed. Lydia waited, her nerves strung taut in unbearable suspense. Would the man not just say it? How dare he make her stew and wait like a groveling supplicant?

But when he finally looked up, his eyes were not warm and burning with desire, they were grave and apologetic. He removed his hand from under hers. A vein began to throb dully behind her eyes even before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Lydia. It grieves me to say this, but I do not love you. The time we had together was wonderful. But when I made that vow, I had no idea the path my life would take. We were so young, then, and many years have passed. We are different people now, and naught can change that I am married to Kat.”

The dull throb became an annoying ache. “Nay. I do not believe you. You are denying our love because of
her
. She put you up to this. What kind of threat does she hold over you that you would break your vow to
me?

A small tear leaked from her eye and she wiped it away angrily. She never cried. Alex stood up and paced around the small confines to the shuttered windows. Then he swung back to her and stood at the foot of the bed.

His dark blue gaze steady, he took a deep breath. “You believe Kat has some sort of hold over me. And you are right.” Not waiting for him to finish, Lydia rose off the bed and took several quick steps towards him with her arms outstretched.

He held up his hand to stop her. “You were right about Kat,” he continued, his gaze full of pity. “But the only hold she has over me is the love in my heart. I’m sorry, Lydia. I say these things not to be unkind, but so you know that there can never be aught between you and me. In time, I beg you will forgive me for hurting you.”

Lydia stood stunned, flabbergasted. Then the rage surged so fast and furious, she felt as though someone stabbed a dagger into her eye. Pain exploded and Lydia cried out. Closing her eyes, all the blood in her head surged to one spot and pounded through a single vessel behind her right eye. Alex caught her as she fell.

“Jesu. Lydia, what is wrong?” Alex said, his voice a distant buzz.

But Lydia remained silent, trying to endure the excruciating pain. The phenomenon was well known to her, but only a few times in her life had it come on so quickly and to such a degree. And she remembered them both very clearly. Her headaches had occurred during times of great distress and disappointment throughout her life. But the first time she felt one this bad was the summer she turned ten and two.

The day she lost her virginity, her innocence, her youth to her beloved Papa.

Lydia heard voices above her, Alex’s and a high-pitched male voice, and then she was floating. The mattress enveloped her when Alex laid her on it. But her mind drifted back to the past as the physician examined her.

That had been the worst betrayal of all. She and her handsome father had been extremely close. When her mother died, Lydia and her father were devastated, their shared grief a bond that drew them even closer. It helped that Lydia was a tiny replica of her beauteous mother. Her father showered Lydia with affection and she adored him so much he could do no wrong in her eyes.

Then the changes came upon her; her hips widened, her breasts enlarged considerably and much sooner than other girls her age. That was when her father’s embraces changed, became intimate and covert. His hand would caress her face too long, or accidentally brush against her breasts. Then when she did not resist, he grew bolder and cornered her in darkened passageways to caress her breasts and nipples, rubbing them until they tingled. His touches became increasingly more intimate, touching her between her legs, kissing her on the lips.

At first it felt good when he touched her; this was her handsome, adoring father, and surely what he did to her could not be wrong? But deep inside, she knew the truth and the shame mounted after each encounter. Still, he loved her, he called her his precious little girl, said she was a good girl for letting her Papa touch her. After nearly a year of this, one night he came to her bedchamber.

A noise woke her and she was afraid. Then she saw him and her terror began in earnest. He stared down at her unsteadily. Then he groped for the bed and tripped, landing beside her on the bed. He was
naked
. She recoiled at the large ugly snake extended straight out below his belly, but he was too strong. He grabbed her, crawled on top of her, and poked that thing inside her, ripping her apart. She screamed, begged him to stop, but he hushed her. He slurred his words, promising to hurry and calling her Lyla, his beloved. When it was over, he rolled off her and fell asleep like an exhausted puppy.

For the next two years the routine varied little. He came to her chamber smelling of stale ale, proceeded to rape her, called out his dead wife’s name, and then promptly fell asleep beside her. Until she began taking lovers of her own. One night he came to her bed and found her fornicating with a strapping, handsome villein. ’Twas the first time he ever looked at her with shame.

She had been extremely hurt by it, but at the same time she had wanted to kill him for making her the way she was. But from that day forward she held all the control. She manipulated men to her advantage using carnal favors to get what she wanted. And none had ever denied her, except…

You have betrayed me for the last time, Alex,
Lydia vowed.
If I cannot have you, I guarantee that she-witch never will. I shall destroy your marriage and deny you that which you desire most. And unlike you, I do not break my vows.

 

Alex paced on the landing outside Lydia’s chamber, waiting for news from the king’s physician. It was silent in the darkened stairwell except for his footfalls. He thought back on that moment when she had cried out in pain and collapsed. He had knelt on the floor with her in his arms and brushed back her hair to stare aghast at her paler-than-death complexion. He called her name over and over, but she did not respond. Then the physician entered the room, his expression appalled and scandalized. But Alex had quickly explained what happened and left her to the man’s examination.

It was his fault. Alex did not mean to hurt her, but there was naught he could do to blunt the pain. He could not give her false hope and, therefore, had decided to be completely honest about his feelings.

Alex’s eyes widened and he stopped pacing abruptly. In all the emotional turmoil, it just dawned on him that Lydia walked on her injured leg without any difficulty. How could that be, unless…?

Alex dropped his head into his hands and groaned aloud. Lydia had faked her injury. She had manipulated the situation to get him alone. He could see things all too clearly now. And it made him wonder how many other times, in his youthful blindness, had she duped him?

Looking back, he remembered how besotted he had been with Lydia’s beauty and sweetness from the moment they met. The attraction mutual, over the course of the summer they snuck away many times to kiss and fondle one another, though they never committed the ultimate act of love. Lydia was already betrothed to another and Alex was intended for Kat. Lydia wanted them to elope, but in the end she understood that he could not dishonor his family or Kat by breaking his informal betrothal.

Then the night before Lydia left court to go to her groom’s home and marry, she came to his bed. She wanted Alex to make love to her, claimed she loved him and wanted him to be the one to whom she gifted her virginity. She was so sweet and shyly embarrassed by her request, he could not deny her. Besides, he was young and virile and wanted her desperately.

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