Authors: June Francis
‘There is no lover,’ she said in a choking voice, her face throbbed, and her lip stung. ‘How I hate you!’
Slowly, surprisingly, he loosened his grip. His eyelid twitched several times and absently he lifted a hand and rubbed it, before releasing her. ‘At last the gloves are off! I thought there was more to you than the insipid creature you appeared to be these last few months. Yet, you would be wiser if you did not make me angry.’ His dark brows furrowed. ‘Listen to me, and I think we could deal well together, sweet coz. They say hate is akin to love. You will be mine before I leave.’
‘Leave?’ Felicia’s eyes flew wide.
‘Do not look so pleased, Felicia. I shall definitely have to make sure of you before I go to Worcester. Earl Simon has sent for me, but I will make time for you.’ Philip moved more swiftly than she could think—or dodge his groping hands. He forced her back until the wooden frame of the bed pressed against her hips. She gave a cry as he suddenly released her, causing her to overbalance and fall on the bed. She could smell his sweat and over-sweet perfume, and was filled with panic.
‘Relax, coz,’ he whispered against her cheek.
‘I hate you, and I would rather die than submit to your will,’ she said stonily, controlling her fear. ‘You are a beast that you would force yourself on me.’
‘A beast?’ He stared down at her. ‘Any other maiden I would not have delayed so long in the taking—but, believe me, I have feelings for you. I do not really want to hurt you.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’ She looked up at him, her eyes hard blue.
‘It surprises me, too.’ He laughed. ‘To show you that I am not the beast you think, coz, I shall not take you swiftly like the beasts in the field, but shall woo you this night. Montfort can wait a few hours more.’ He moved away from her.
She rolled off the bed and stood up, shaken.
‘Prepare yourself for me,’ Philip said with a sudden frown. ‘I shall soon banish the thought of any other lover from your mind. I shall bed you tonight.’ He turned and went out of the room, taking the key and locking the door from the outside.
Felicia felt as though in some nightmare. Her limbs were without form, filled with black ice, unable to move. The thump of Philip’s feet receding down the stone steps, seemed to come from a great distance. At last she stirred, reaching for the cloth in the pouch hanging from her girdle, and dabbed at her cheek and mouth, staring as a crimson stain spread on the linen. She sank slowly on the bed and gazed unseeingly up at the ceiling. Slowly she searched for a way out of her predicament. She thought of the man she had run from and wondered where he had gone when she had been taken. Fled, most likely—yet he did not look the sort of man who would shrink from danger. How had he taken her out of the castle? She began frantically to think—to seek some way out of her terrifying situation.
Shadows, like grey veils, gathered in the corners of the chamber. Only the light penetrating the narrow window opening enabled her to see the sewing she worked at to take her mind off the fearsome thoughts that plagued her. It was quiet outside, except for the occasional call from a guard on the walls. She had changed into a yellow silk under gown with long sleeves and a high neck, over which she wore a dark brown linen surcote. About her throat she had fastened a long veil that also covered her head. As she pulled the thread through the fabric, she took deep steadying breaths.
The sound of heavy feet on the steps brought her heart into her mouth. Her fingers trembled as she stabbed the needle deep into the cloth before putting it aside. Her fingers slid down the riband on her girdle. Swiftly she cut off the scissors that hung there and slipped them up her sleeve.
‘I do not wish to be disturbed. Tell the men to pay no heed to any noise from this chamber.’ There was a harsh laugh from her cousin.
Feet clattered down the steps as a key grated in the lock, then the door crashed against the wall. Her cousin stood swaying in the doorway, his bulk a deeper blue shadow against the darkening sky. He lurched into the room and pushed the door to clumsily. It did not quite shut.
‘Here I am, coz!’ The words were slurred as he staggered towards her.
Felicia did not reply. She slid the scissors carefully into her palm, surprised that her cousin appeared intoxicated in the light of his plan for her.
‘Would it not be best to wait, Philip?’ Her voice quivered. ‘If you gave me more time, I might be willing to do as you wish.’ She pressed herself against the wall furthest from the bed and slid along it away from him. There was a slight flurry of cool air against her ankles and her skirts fluttered.
‘Liar!’ he muttered. ‘Do—Do you think you can dissuade me?’ He lunged, and caught hold of her. Twisting, she lifted the scissors and thrust them into his arm.
Philip let out a screech that seemed to hit the stone walls. Felicia tore herself from his grasp and did not hesitate, but flew across the room and out of the door. He stumbled after her, clutching his arm, but she was too quick. Out she went, pulling the door shut and turning the key shutting him in. She fled down the steps, barely seeming to touch the stone. Without pausing at the bottom, she darted into the shadow of the keep and stood there, her heart pounding, listening to Philip hammering on the door and cursing her.
She glanced up at the walls and saw men’s heads turn but they made no move to go and see what the noise was about. She realised why, and sagged against the wall, laughing silently, her hand against her mouth. She laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks. How long she stayed there she did not know, but at last the storm of tears and laughter ceased. She stood motionless, thinking. Earlier, there had come into her mind a blurred vision of a darkened river. Had her abductor taken her out of the castle that way? Was there a door in the wall in the direction of the river? Perhaps she could find it if she were left undiscovered long enough. She began to creep along the keep wall, glad that there was no moon. When she turned the corner and neared the buttery, the rear door in the keep suddenly opened, and before she could step back a man came out. She tensed, praying that he would not see her.
‘Hurry up with that ale, Ned!’ A tousled dark head peeped out of the doorway, and an arm holding a rush light.
‘I’m doing my best, Peter. Hold that light a little higher. It’s dark out here.’
The blood pounded in Felicia’s ears as the man held up the light, and she shrank against the wall. The movement was only slight, but it was enough to send the light fluttering as the man turned in her direction.
‘What was that? I thought I saw summat.’ The man called Ned turned, swinging the pitcher he carried. ‘Hold that light a bit further this way. I thought I saw ... There, I saw it again! Quick!’
Felicia darted away as he made a grab for her, but Peter had already sprung forward. He grasped her shoulder. ‘Let me go!’ she hissed, spinning round and holding aloft the scissors.
He stepped back hurriedly. ‘Now take it easy, Mistress. I don’t mean you any harm.’ He held up his arms warding her off, and glanced quickly at his mate. ‘Weren’t you saying this one was a witch?’ he muttered. He crossed himself swiftly and made a circle with his finger and thumb.
‘Dunno,’ said Ned uneasily. ‘She might have got out of this pile last night, but she was captured easy enough this morn. But what’s she doing here? I thought the master was ... You know.’ He lunged forward suddenly as Felicia turned her head in her effort to keep her eye on both men. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it until she dropped the scissors. ‘We’ll have a reward for this, Peter,’ he laughed, pinning Felicia’s arms behind her back. ‘Don’t know how she escaped him, but...’
‘I beg you,’ she pleaded, struggling. ‘Let me go. I could reward you if you helped me to escape.’
‘It would be more than our lives were worth,’ he growled. ‘Peter, you’ll have to get the ale. I shouldn’t be too long.’
‘Very well.’ Peter took the pitcher and turned towards the buttery. But as he reached the building a black figure sprang out of its shadow and, before Peter could do anything, he was sent sprawling to the ground.
‘Hell’s bells!’ Ned whirled Felicia about, trying frantically to tug the dagger from his belt. Suddenly he let her go and pushed her at the figure coming towards them. She collided into the man, who grabbed her and they both went stumbling backwards.
Edmund let out a hiss of breath and managed to regain his footing, then he spun Felicia round and put her behind him. He did not know what she was doing out here by the buttery, but she was obviously attempting to free herself from the man. He pulled out his sword and swept it in a glittering arc in front of him. Ned stepped back in surprise, and his dagger clattered to the ground. He turned and ran, shouting as he did so.
‘Damnation!’ Edmund grabbed Felicia’s hand, dragging her with him. The other man was just getting to his feet, nursing his jaw. Edmund slowed, then kicked him, sending him sprawling back against the buttery door. Felicia was pulled, resisting, behind the buttery. Edmund turned to face her. They could barely see each other’s faces. ‘Don’t have second thoughts now about escaping this castle, Mistress Meriet! I value my life too highly.’ His fingers tightened about her wrist and he hauled her into the darkness.
She went without a struggle, knowing she had no choice. The fingers of her free hand touched coarse stone as she stumbled through the long grass against the outer wall. A tree loomed up in front of them, its foliage wide-spreading and black against the sky. Then she was pulled into a space so narrow that she could barely squeeze through. There was wood beneath her hand, a key turned, and then came the slight click as a latch was lifted. The door opened silently, and now she felt cool air and could see the faint glow of a luminous darkness. Urged on by Edmund, she stepped out, while he locked the gate behind them. She gazed down at the glitter of stars on the river and had a brief flash of recall. It was her captor of the night before—as she had thought!
He gave her no chance to cry out, but dragged her down the steps. From a distance came the faint sound of men shouting. Before she realised what he was about, she felt a brief painful tug on her arm as he leapt from the steps, then his hands slid about her waist and he swung her down beside him. He began to run, dragging her behind him. She kept up as best she could, often slipping or stumbling. But always he managed to keep her on her feet by the iron-like firmness of his wrist. At last, when the breath was burning in her chest, they came to where she could see a horse outlined against the sky.
‘Up with you!’ he commanded, his eyes glinting in the starlight.
Felicia hesitated, looking up at him, remembering. ‘I do not want to go with you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I am grateful that you rescued me from those men, but our paths part here.’ She attempted to tug her hand from his grasp.
‘Don’t be foolish!’ he rasped. ‘What do you think I was doing within the castle walls but looking for you? You will pay for that blow you dealt me, Mistress Meriet.’ His fingers tightened about her wrist. ‘Now, up with you.’
‘Let me go!’ she panted, struggling in his hold. ‘I will not go with you.’
He paid no heed, but lifted her and flung her on to the horse. Before she had a chance even to raise her head, he was in the saddle, his hand pressing firmly on the middle of her back. When the horse began to move, she had to cling to the skirt of his surcote. The breeze that rippled the grass caught her veil, fluttering it out like some giant moth. She attempted to smooth it down, but was forced to abandon her efforts and renew her hold on him. The ground flashed beneath her and she had a vision of falling and her heart was in her mouth. The hand on her back grasped the fabric of her gown more firmly when she felt herself most in danger of sliding from the horse. At last they came to the forest.
Felicia wriggled, lifting her head as the horse slowed its pace. ‘Are you taking me back to that hovel?’ she gasped. He did not answer but held her more firmly. ‘At least let me sit up!’ she added. ‘I—I feel sick!’ The pressure on her spine eased, but still he kept hold of her as she carefully eased herself upright. Frustration stirred within her as his arms imprisoned hers against her sides. ‘Is there really any need to hold me so tightly?’ she asked vexedly.
‘I do not wish you to fall,’ he muttered against her ear as they entered the dark confines of the forest. ‘Now keep still and do not distract me. I need all my wits about me, wench!’
Trees swayed and creaked overhead; the undergrowth rustled and shifted. All the tales of hobgoblins, demons, wolves and witches that her nurse had told her long years ago were suddenly vivid in her mind. She gasped as she caught the gleam of eyes in a tangle of leaves, and shrank against Edmund. He, at least, was flesh and blood. She shut her eyes and weariness swamped her as they plunged further into the forest.
A lavender-scented curl tickled Edmund’s chin and brought him out of his reverie. While they had been out in the open, most of his mind had been focussed on getting under cover, for at any moment he had expected the drawbridge to rattle down and to hear the thunder of hooves. It had not happened, and he had succeeded in his aim to recapture Mistress Meriet. Yet even now he could not relax. Against all his inclinations, his senses were stirred. Her head rested beneath his chin and her body was warm and pliable against his own. Her breathing was soft and even. Had she really dozed off or was she only pretending, thinking to trick him again into lowering his guard? Incredibly, he felt like laughing, having expected her, now that they had seemingly escaped, to try to persuade him by any means within her power that she was innocent of all that he had said about her and her cousin. Perhaps she would make excuses for having hit him that morning when they reached the cottage. It was not much further now.
She stifled a yawn as he lifted her down from the horse and then grasped hold of his arm as he set her firmly on the ground. ‘It is as black as the devil’s heart here!’ she whispered. ‘Where are we?’
He did not reply but strode purposely towards the dark huddle a few yards away, aware that she still clung to him. He opened the door and with a mocking bow, bade Felicia enter. Hesitantly, she released her grip on him and entered the building, her hands clasped tightly against her chest. She felt him brush past her and the next moment the interior brightened as he lifted the iron-domed cover from the fire. When he held a rush light to its smouldering embers, the light caught and flared, lighting the room even more. The smell of rancid mutton fat came faintly to her as he set the light on the table.
‘Sit down, Mistress Meriet.’ His eyes gleamed in the flickering light, which darkened the hollows beneath his cheekbones.
‘I do not wish to sit down,’ she said in a trembling voice.
He moved towards her, and hurriedly Felicia sank on to a stool. He brought his own seat close to hers, and their knees touched. She was conscious of his eyes upon her mouth and lowered her gaze.
‘Look at me,’ he ordered, putting a hand to her chin. She tried to pull away, but his fingers were insistent. He scrutinised her face and then touched her cheek gently; he was infinitely more tender than she would have thought possible. Even so, she winced. ‘Who did this to you? Was it those men?’
Felicia shook her head, surprised at the hint of anger in his voice. His fingers ranged the full extent of the blow her cousin had dealt her, then the tip of one finger ran gently over her swollen lips. Her mouth quivered slightly. She found that sensitive touch, even though it hurt, evocative.
‘Who, then?’ He released her chin and went over to the door, picking up the saddlebag he had dropped when entering.