* * * *
“So, you have not bedded the wench as of yet, brother?” Jeremy Sinclair taunted his twin.
“Nay, but don’t think that I couldn’t. After all, ’twas she who confessed to the wanting of me, even before I suggested it,” Corin casually stated with an aristocratic wave of his hand.
Jeremy laughed with a mouth full of meat and the sound echoed through the hall. “I just might have to ask her if that is true or not,” he replied, as if he didn’t believe him.
“Why do you not ask her now, Jeremy?” Erik said as he pushed Melisande into the room, both of them soaked to the skin. “I found her running across the courtyard toward the gatehouse.”
Jeremy stood and strode over to her. “I am impressed,” he sneered, circling her like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. “I would never have guessed you had it in you to attempt such a feat.” Then Jeremy snapped at Erik. “Show me exactly how she escaped and we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He and Erik crossed the room to the doors. “She is a feisty one. You always knew how to pick the women, brother,” Jeremy commented wryly over his shoulder, and they quit the hall.
Helpless and alone, Melisande lifted her gaze to glare at Corin. He stood and walked toward her. She made to recoil when he grabbed her arm, but he caught her regardless. “Back to the tower—I mean, your chamber, m’lady.”
He pushed her up the main stairs and down the corridor to the longer staircases that led to the tower. Clutching her upper arm with a vise-like grip, Corin lifted the heavy plank with one hand and tossed it aside. Once inside, he threw her in and shut the door behind them.
Melisande couldn’t believe her escape attempt had been thwarted. She hadn’t been three steps from the gates when that Erik had snatched her up and dragged her back into the hall to her captors.
“Now I am going to do my part to make sure you do not try to escape again.” He approached Melisande and attempted to remove her belt.
“Nay!” she shouted and placed her hands over her middle, backing away from him.
Corin caught up with her and pried her arms away without any effort whatsoever. He tore the belt from her, bruising the sides of her ribs, then proceeded to rip her tunic down the front as if it were a sheet of parchment. She tried with all her might to push him away, but he was by far stronger than she. He plucked her torn tunic from her body and kicked it along with the belt toward the door, leaving her with only her short chemise. Corin then ordered her to remove her leg coverings and boots. Melisande shook her head. Undaunted, he replied, “If you do not, I will. And what a pleasure it will be.” He eyed her up and down as he was wont to do of late, a leering grin touching the corners of his mouth.
Melisande leaned against the wall, groping at her hose and boots, tossing them at his feet.
“You are quite a vision, standing there in your undergarments that are so wet one could almost see right through them.”
With a loud sob, Melisande covered her front with her arms.
Corin started toward her. She tried to step away but his hands landed on either side of her on the wall behind.
“Tonight you will be so cold, you will come to my bed willingly,” he said in a low voice.
“Never!” she shouted. “I should like to freeze to death before—” Her loud declaration was interrupted when the unmistakable clatter of steel came from the corridor.
Corin cocked his head and considered the sound for a moment, then turned back to Melisande. “Do not try to run away again. I am posting two guards on the path below. I will most likely not see you again until you crawl under my coverlet this night.” He pushed away from the wall and, with a slight bow in her direction, bade her farewell. Corin kicked the furs and the wet garments out of the door and shut it. She listened as the timber plank slammed into place and shivered.
Just then, Jeremy pushed his way through the small window above and Melisande stepped into the center of the room, looking up at him as he stood on the ledge. She stared at him, noting the strong similarities between the twins—their manners of speech as well as their features—save for the scruffy visage of Jeremy.
“It seems someone else wants Dupree for themselves, but I am confident that my men can take care of things.” Jeremy jumped down, tossed his sword to the floor and started toward her. “I thought that while they are winning the battle downstairs, I shall claim you as a prize for myself.” Taking a slow, lingering visual assessment, he added crudely, “I see that someone has made you ready for me. I should find them later and offer my thanks.”
Melisande glanced at her surroundings and realized that there was nowhere for her to run. In seconds his arms had encircled her, his body pressing against hers. A scream welled up in her lungs and she let it loose like a flaming arrow. Jeremy tried to cover her scream with his mouth but Melisande bit his lip. His blood oozed between their faces. He pulled away, grunted, touched his lip and smiled at her. He then grabbed her hands, which clung to her chemise, and forced her to the cold stone floor. He moved on top of her and uttered against her ear, “The very sound of battle makes me hard.”
“Nay!” Melisande screamed. At the same time, she heard someone shout her name.
Jeremy started to raise the hem of her chemise when a noise at the window stopped him. They both glanced up to find Sir Devin Blackburn dropping to the floor, his sword in hand. He looked to Melisande like a dark avenging angel.
“Blackburn,” Jeremy said, smiling, rolling from their horizontal position. He jumped up and retrieved his sword from the floor.
“Sinclair, ready yourself for a second defeat,” Devin murmured confidently.
Melisande scrambled to her feet and pressed her back to the door. At the first clash of weapons, Melisande covered her ears with both hands. The two large men were matched evenly and for every blow that was given, one was returned with the same force. They circled each other, waiting for an opportunity to attack. Jeremy lunged at Devin and they fell to the floor with a great thud. Their swords fell away and they each grabbed a handful of the other’s clothing. As the two men exchanged fisted blows, they scraped across the floor, but could go no farther than the stone wall would allow.
Jeremy retrieved a concealed dagger from his boot and stabbed Devin in the arm through his chain mail. Devin gritted his teeth and an anguished sound escaped his throat. He shoved the small weapon away. Blood gushed from his wound and he sneered at Jeremy.
In one swift movement, Devin lunged at Jeremy. Raging fury shone on Devin’s face as he took hold of the man who’d attempted to ravish her. He lifted the villain up and slammed him head first into the wall.
Life and strength seemed to leave Jeremy as he lay upon the floor.
Devin rolled away from him and came to his feet. He turned to Melisande and started toward her.
Still frozen in horror, she managed to point at Jeremy. Devin got to his feet and turned to find Jeremy, whose blood ran profusely from a wound somewhere on the top of his head. He threw his dagger at Devin’s back. However, it being a weak toss, the dagger fell to the floor, missing its mark. Devin picked the blade up and flung it back at Jeremy, who took it in the heart.
Melisande stood by the door shivering, unaware until now that she had been sobbing aloud while the men fought.
As if the clouds had moved away from the sun on purpose, light filled the dreary room through the high window and with it lifted an imaginary shroud from her eyes. Knight or not, she could not bear to exist without the man before her. She had been horribly deceived by beauty and courtly manners and needed to confess all to him. Somehow, through the madness that not moments ago had threatened to overtake her mind, she tried to find her voice, but it was too much too soon. A tunnel of black swallowed up her vision, and she was unable to stop it. Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt Devin take her up in his arms.
“Hush now, love. Dupree is safe,” he cooed to her.
Melisande wept, but did not speak for quite some time.
Devin held her close and whispered tenderly, “I vow here and now with my body, heart and soul to protect you. Always. You’ve had my heart since I first heard your voice at the Willowbrook games,” he said, his lips brushing lightly against her temple. “When I heard you call out to me over the wall at Windsor, it took all that I had within me not to turn back and run to you.” His voice turned tremulous. “My lady, my love, you are my life. I’d be the worst of fools not to take you to wife.”
From the outside, the bar was lifted noisily from the door. Parker entered with much haste and observed the body of Jeremy Sinclair, lifeless against the wall. “From the look of this room, I can attest to the fact that both of the Sinclairs are dead and their York cohorts are either dead as well or running in different directions through the countryside. We have dispatched messengers to the King at Windsor with the report.” He stood there with his hands on his hips. “Dupree will be set to rights once again, m’lady, be assured of that. Even as we speak, thine household is returning from the stables where they were being held.” He then returned his attention to Devin. “The war between the King’s knights and the Yorkist traitors has been a sweet victory, wouldst thou not agree, Sir Devin?”
“Devin, that was beautiful.” She realized too late that the moment she and Devin had just shared was now shattered to pieces, but she couldn’t bear to let it go so easily.
Devin cleared his throat. With a sheepish grin, he looked at Parker and shrugged.
“Methinks her head is overly chilled,” Parker said, obviously referring to her comment and state of undress.
Devin tossed his head toward the door. But just before Parker took his leave, he kicked the earlier discarded furs from outside the door toward them.
Wrapped in the furs and in Devin’s arms, Melisande felt the warmth of his love welling up in her heart. They stayed thus for a short while until she spoke again. “Devin?”
“Aye, my lady love?” he answered, his head pressed to hers.
“I must tell you something.”
“I am listening.”
“I’m afraid you will not like what I have to say.”
“Go on,” he urged.
Melisande took a breath, but she knew that there was no delaying the inevitable. She forged ahead. “I almost married Corin Sinclair.” She braced herself for his wrath, but when it did not come, she pulled her head away from his to look upon his face and assess his feelings.
“It would not have happened,” he replied, dismissing the subject with a wave of his hand.
“What? How—”
“I would never have allowed it to.”
Melisande searched his eyes, looking for the truth, and hers filled once again with tears, for his integrity shone like fire.
“What, no contradictory words? No cheeky comebacks?”
Melisande considered that she was rather shrewish sometimes. “I do that often, do I not?”
He smiled. “Aye. However, ’tis most charming.”
From the moment they’d met, he’d been able to steal the breath from her with just one look. Not knowing exactly how to voice her sentiment, she fumbled with words, which rarely happened. “I wish—I want you to know that everything I am—everything I have, is yours. My heart, my home—”
“Your heart I’ll gladly accept, but your home is your own.”
Does he not want Dupree? Is it not as grand as Willowbrook?
“Would I be imposing upon you were you to be my lord, then?”
He chuckled, leaned toward her and gave her a nudge with his forehead. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
Melisande’s heart melted at his tender words, and at the same time her entire body surged to life. She reached up, entwining her arms around his neck.
“May I show you how much?”
Melisande nodded vigorously.
Devin carried her down the narrow stairway and she directed him to her room. He laid her upon the bed then kicked the door shut.
“Wait, let me fetch bindings for your arm,” she offered, starting to rise from the bed.
“Nay, ’tis but a scratch.” He deftly unstrapped and tossed aside his metal greaves then pulled off his boots. He presented his back to her. “Would you mind helping me out of this thing?” he asked regarding his chain mail.
After unlacing his coif, Melisande laboriously tried to remove the blackened metal shirt. “I cannot seem to lift… This…is heavy…”
Devin chuckled as he assisted her by bending at his waist. She tried to be mindful of his injury, but Devin merely shrugged out of the intricately linked metal rings as the mail shirt dropped to the floor.
“Am I to be your new squire then?” She grinned mischievously.
“Nay, never that, love. But you may undress me when we retire after we are married this very night,” Devin said, shedding the rest of his overclothes. “If it is your wish as well, of course. And damn the banns,” he added. “We’ve been through too much of late to wait. I’ll bribe the friar with three barrels of mead—that should appease him.”
She giggled her agreement then sobered. “I have always been yours, you know.”
A low, sensual growl came from Devin’s throat as he looked at Melisande from beneath hooded eyelids. “Come hither, wench.”
Melisande dove under the coverlet, trying to dodge his already approaching hands. She did so love it when Devin chased her. She knew her reward would come when he caught her—and she planned on being caught each and every time he gave chase for the rest of her life.
“Ho there, woman. Where do you think you are going?” He caught her by the ankle and she squealed with delight. He positioned her on the mattress next to where he stood.
“Your wound! You’ll bleed to death.” She tried to sound serious, but she was too delighted to do so.
He plucked at the ties of his trews and in seconds his hose slid down his legs. He kicked them away and discarded the rest of his garments. “I appreciate your concern, but more than worry about my death, I need to be inside you. This very moment. Or my death will have nothing to do with loss of blood.”
She wiggled out of her chemise. While she did so, she took in the vision before her. God’s teeth, but he was splendid. His thick cock stood at the ready and a hot wetness seeped from between her thighs at the sight of it.