Warrior's Deception (14 page)

She wanted to fight him off but she couldn’t keep track of his tongue and hands. The muscles in his chest flexed across her breasts. A stab of desire leapt from the point of impact to the pit of her stomach. Control and reason fled from the overwhelming strength of her hunger for Roen.

Her fingers tangled in the long hair at the base of his neck and pulled Roen to her of their own accord. She kissed him with a passion newly erupted and discovered. His callused hands tweaked the sensitive nipples of her breasts and she felt them rise to meet him. He held each like a precious jewel and then his lips moved to taste them.

Her back arched from the incredible joy of his tongue on her breasts. He played her nipple, then nibbled the skin beneath her breasts. She heard a purr like a cat and realized it came from her. Through heavy-lidded eyes she watched Roen flip her gown up and move between her legs.

“Now there will be no more question of you marrying me. You’ll have to marry me.” Roen reached and tore away her braes.

Reality started to filter into Lenora’s passion drugged brain. It wasn’t her he wanted, only Woodshadow. The stupor drained away; she regained possession of her body and began to fight. “Nay, I will not be taken like a strumpet on the march!”

Roen brought his knee in between her legs and she felt his fingers close on the triangle of hair between her legs. He said nothing as he stared at the entrance to her virginity. With one hand, he clutched her breast and held her down. His hand came forward and he slowly slid one finger into the gate of her maidenhood.

Confused at the turmoil Roen’s actions caused, Lenora let fear overtake her. Although she did not believe her aunt’s horror tales about men and women, all the stories and warnings came back. His finger eased inside her, and a thousand bolts of lightning shot through her body. He groaned as her body released a flood of warmth to ease his entrance.

“Do not do this.” Lenora could fight no longer. Her body and mind warred. She both cursed and marveled at the passion that compelled her.

“I’m sorry, Nora. I wanted to wait. But ‘tis the only way. I’ve got to keep you safe.”

She opened her eyes to see he had lost his braes, also. Power pulsated from the thick shaft between her legs. Lenora wanted to cry in fear but her body cried for fulfillment.

“Do not give me idle words. You take what you want, so then take it and be done.” She wanted to sound hard, but her words came out breathy and seductive. The yearnings of her body screamed for her to admit the truth. She wanted him to take her, she wanted him.

Roen lowered himself to her. His hard tip pressed at the edge of her womanhood. The long staff heated the skin of her inner thighs and created currents of ecstasy churning in her core. She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid of what her body felt, afraid of what it demanded to feel. Her natural curiosity got the best of her and she opened them again. Roen’s face loomed above hers, locked in concentration. Perspiration beaded his brow. His silver eyes captured hers.

“Nora.” He did not look away from her as he gently entered her. She stiffened when the red-hot shaft filled her. Her eyes started to close again, embarrassed that he might see the fervor of her desire. “Nay, Nora. Look at me.”

Her eyes flew open. He stopped, suspended above her, and brushed her mouth with his. A new wash of warmth flooded her and the pain subsided. Roen’s face transformed, the stern edges softened. He moved deeper and hesitated at the barrier of her maidenhood. Lost in her body’s cravings, Lenora gripped his arms and rocked toward him.

“Wait, Nora. Not yet.” He pushed her hips down, a look of surprise on his face. “I can’t do this right if you keep that up.”

Lenora didn’t care if he did it right or wrong. Her body exploded with new, wonderful feelings and she wanted more. She increased the rotation of her hips. Gone were any thoughts of anger or hatred. Her body didn’t acknowledge those emotions. The spine-tingling bolts of desire were all she wanted to concentrate on. “Roen…” The name rumbled in her throat. “I want this. Now.”

With a roar like a lion, Roen shook his blond mane and plunged into her core. His lips covered hers to muffle her short cry. Deep inside her, he did not stir, letting her body mold itself around him. Lenora felt full, yet ravenous for more of him. She curled her legs around him and Roen whispered in her hair, “Aye, that’s the way of it. You’re a fast learner.”

A rock of her hips, and she heard Roen gasp. His face became transfixed as she tilted her pelvis toward then away from him. She gave him a saucy look and reminded him, “Are you never to listen to me? I warned you I’m intelligent.”

In retaliation, Roen lifted himself up onto his elbows and began moving his hips in a slow gyrating dance that took her breath away. Her gaze flew to his as the hurricane of emotions in her began a crescendo. His body consumed her with the fire of his lovemaking. She wanted to meld with him as deeply and forcefully as possible. Her fingers dug into his back and then raked down his sides to the deeply muscled contours of his buttocks. He plunged deeper. The storm within her reached its maximum force. The tempest cried for more and she delivered. With all her strength, Lenora pushed herself up to meet Roen’s thrust. His hands cradled her and lifted her to him.

The surge of ecstasy earned both lovers in the eddies of passion. Lenora’s body jerked with each hot stream of seed Roen emptied into the warmth of her womb. Spent, he lowered himself and rested his head on her breasts. The heavy thudding of her heart pounded in his ear. He hoped his obsession would diminished now that he had lain with her, but ‘twas the opposite. The sound of her breath stirred his want again. Her milky white breasts teased him to taste their nectar. Roen was full but famished when it came to his Nora.

Lifting his gaze to hers, he lost himself in the warm cider depths. Her eyes glowed with the still-present embers of passion. Withdrawing himself from her, he lowered her skirt. “You are mine, Nora.” The words came out soft and tender, yet he told himself he felt none of those emotions. This act consummated his duty to his king, nothing more. Yet as he gathered her warm, pliant body close, his thoughts were on the pleasures his body had just experienced and the joy he felt when he discovered her maidenhead intact. His fingers trailed through Lenora’s hair and pushed it from her eyes.

Lenora hid her face, ashamed that she possessed such a sinful nature. The fading wisps of euphoria drained from her body, leaving her bruised and empty on the ground. The act had stripped her of her independence. Now she was like any other woman, an object of ownership, a device to gain wealth.

“You are mine.” His crow of victory shamed her even more. He pushed back her hair so that she could see the satisfaction the remark gave him. His hands loosened their hold, and she grabbed the opportunity to escape his clutches. She rolled the opposite way and scrambled to her feet. Her rumpled gown fell down to its proper location. With her body once again modestly covered, she regained some composure.

“Nora, wait, I’ll walk you back.” Roen moved to collect his clothing.

“Nay, I’ll not enter Woodshadow with you. All will know what’s occurred.”

“All will know soon enough.” He began to retie his braes.

“I’m sure of that. No doubt you’ll want to hear all the cheers and boasts in your favor at the news you’ve turned me into a whore.” Lenora’s anger and disgrace made her throw caution to the wind. “You bastard. You took from me that which was only mine to give. How did such a basebora man as yourself become a knight?” Lenora did not wait for an answer. She ran back down the path to the castle and the comfort of her own room.

Roen did not follow. The heat and truth of Lenora’s words stung deep. So, his father’s prophecy finally came true. He stared at the spot where his worst fears had materialized. A blemish of white caught his eye. Lenora’s braes lay crumpled, a brilliant red stain marked her innocence. He picked up the proof of his vileness. He shoved the panties into the inner folds of his tunic.

His long legs ate away the distance between him and Lenora. Deep in thought, he shadowed her until after they passed the bailey walls. Both had missed the evening meal. His men would think nothing of it, but what of Lenora’s people? He needed to think of a story to spare her inquisitive questions.

“Nora, we must talk.”

She whipped around. Hatred burned in her eyes. “Can you not leave me in peace for a moment?”

“Nay, Nora. I spoke wrong. No one need know what happened.”

“Why keep silent about your victory,
Sir Galliard?”
She mocked his title. “Will you paint me the harlot on our wedding night when I have no proof of my innocence?” She slapped his cheek.

He felt the stinging imprint on his face. Roen reached out to take her hand but she backed away and ran into the keep.

“Nora, damn you, wait.” He pulled up next to her and cursed again. His private guard of men stood together by the central fireplace downing ale. They quickly took in Lenora’s disheveled appearance and the mark on his face. A few snickers started and then they all wore sophomoric grins. Lenora cringed and ran up the stairs. Helpless, Roen watched.

“Did you teach the shrew a lesson?” Alric laughed while he gulped his tankard of ale. He let out a loud belch.

Roen’s black look quenched Alric’s humor. Hamlin stayed quiet and gave the knights a silent hand signal as Roen headed for the jug of spirits on the trestle table. The men faded from the room, leaving Hamlin alone with his friend.

In one swift motion, Roen poured a goblet of strong brew and downed it. He poured a second and brought it to his lips.

“What have you done?” Hamlin’s voice sounded no reproach.

As a response, Roen threw back the contents of the cup and poured again. “What had to be done.” He drank down his third drink.

“Tell me that you did not rape her,” Hamlin pleaded. He noted the speed at which his friend consumed the ale; a few more and he would be headed for trouble.

Roen remained mute and shot back another cup of ale. He refilled the cup. Hamlin swept the bottle from the table, the crash sending slivers of pottery in all directions.

“I thought you meant to make peace with the girl. What demon possessed you? How could you do such a thing?”

“’Twas a waste of good ale, Hamlin. How could I do such a thing, you ask?” Roen laughed bitterly and drained the cup. He stumbled to his feet and threw his goblet against the wall. With his head resting in his hands, he spoke in a resigned tone. “She was in the woods with Geoffrey Champlain. They
are…acquaintances.” He slammed his fist against the wall. “I heard her call Champlain’s name in her sleep, after I had—” Roen paused “—kissed her.”

“Is that why you claimed her, you were jealous?”

“Nay.” Roen rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I lost reason. I—” he floundered for words then gave an acerbic laugh “—had hoped she was different from my mother.”

“She is. You must stop allowing your mother’s actions to prejudice you against all women.”

Guilt painted Roen’s face ashen. “You’re right. Because of my anger at my mother, I wronged Nora deeply. She and Champlain are not lovers, yet. She was still a maiden when he left her. The same cannot be said for when she left me.”

Pity for his friend softened Hamlin’s anger. “Go to her, explain the truth about your mother.”

Roen rose and leaned against the wall for support. “’Tis no need, she knows the truth, if not by my words then by my deeds. I am a bastard to take advantage of an innocent.”

Hamlin guided his inebriated lord up the stairs to the room they shared. He let Roen fall onto the straw pallets on the floor and began to remove his boots. Roen cursed himself and his parents under his breath. Hamlin halted as he pulled a boot from Roen’s foot. The bare limb hit the floor with a thump. The impact jolted the drunken man back to coherence.

“When you knew you were wrong, why didn’t you stop?” Hamlin asked.

Roen squirmed uncomfortably. “Stop? What kind of man do you think I am? I had gone too fa to stop.”

“I think you’re the kind of man who can outwit any lord in a siege. The kind of man that has the utmost patience. When he desires it.”

“’Twas for the best. There will be no more of this nonsense about the wedding. Nora…Woodshadow…will be safe.”

“But if she does have a paramour, then would not marriage to him suffice the king?”

His friend rolled over and kicked Hamlin away. “I grow tired of your mouth, Hamlin. ‘Tis time to sleep.” Roen closed his eyes and soon the sound of his deep breathing filled the room.

Hamlin studied his lord, then a smile cracked his face. “Roen, you have never known a woman’s tender caress, yet I
think you desire it more than you will admit.” He plopped down on his pallet. “And Lady Lenora of Woodshadow is the woman you desire it from. As your friend, I am honor-bound to get you what you want, even if you’re not aware you want it.” Hamlin gave a sly smile. “And I know just the person to aid me. Oh, Roen, you don’t know how fortunate you are to have me as a friend.”

H
amlin looked up as yet another guest entered the crowded hall. The noise level caused his ears to ring. He tried to catch Roen’s attention

The groom sat on the raised dais at the back wall dressed in his wedding finery. Roen kept some part of his body in constant movement. His hand nudged the circlet of rough hammered gold holding back his hair. He dropped his hands to the wide sash that belted his gold-and-forest-green tunic and surveyed the room. Hamlin noted that his friend had never appeared so princely.

Nor had he ever looked so miserable.

Roen’s gaze returned to the steps that led to the upper dormitories. The stairs remained vacant; no bride descended. The groom tightened his belt again, then he gave a quick jerk of his head toward the stairs. Hamlin knew the gesture’s meaning. He threaded his way across the floor and placed his foot on the first step.

A slender figure moved in front of the narrow slit window in front of him. A plan formulated in his mind. He pulled back his foot and pivoted closer to the shy woman.

Beatrice sat on the floor nearby. Hamlin stood transfixed at the ethereal beauty before him. She reminded him of a pet bird in a cage, only the bars of her prison were made of her fears. As she watched the boisterous approach of more guests, her usually timid blue eyes sparkled with curiosity and elation. He could see her desire to fly free of her cage and her dread of what lay beyond her cell.

A crash behind him made her turn. When she spied him so near, the happiness in her eyes faded.

“What do you want?” She scooted against the wall and drew her knees up.

“I want to talk with you about Lenora.” Hamlin smoothed the effects of her beauty from his voice.

“Leave me. Your friend has done enough already to my cousin.” The anguish in her eyes mixed with anger. The tilt of her chin mimicked that of her cousin’s.

“What did Lenora tell you happened?” Inside, Hamlin felt a longing tenderness to ease away her fears and teach her the gentleness that could exist between a man and woman. Between them, if he could reach beyond her nightmares.

“She told me nothing, but I heard the servants gossiping.” Beatrice’s eyes began to gleam. “I saw what those men did when they took my father’s castle. I know the atrocity that man forced on Lenora. He has no right to her.”

Understanding filled Hamlin with compassion, and a flower of hope bloomed. Now that he knew the root of her ailment, he could search for a cure. She needed to see that lovemaking did not always involve pain and humiliation. Unfortunately, today’s wedding did not help his case. More than ever he needed his friend’s marriage to be peaceful and loving. If not for Roen’s sake, then for his own.

“You’re right, Lady Beatrice. Roen knows he has hurt Lady Lenora. He would like to make amends.”

“How do you make amends for something like that? He has driven a dagger of shame into her heart. Does the man even know the depth of the pain he has caused her?”

“For three days he has known nothing else. She will not look at him or at anyone. He knows she walks these halls like a ghost, not venturing outside or speaking to anyone. We need your help.”

“Why should I help you, or him?” Beatrice asked righteously.

“Oh, I do not ask for me. I ask for Lady Lenora.” Hamlin smiled to himself when Beatrice gave him her full attention. “This wedding will take place. There is naught that can be done to naysay it now. Thus, as Lenora’s friend and I as Roen’s, we must work together to see this union is as it should be.”

“What can I do?” Beatrice knit her graceful brows together.

“Much, I think.” Hamlin ventured to draw nearer. His heart beat a trifle faster when she did not pull away but instead leaned closer. “Think, Beatrice. When Lenora was not overly irritated with Roen, did she ever speak of him or look at him in a gentle way?”

Beatrice glanced about and licked her lower lip. “There were times. Lenora would often steal a look at him at dinner. Sometimes, when he was in the exercise yard, she would tarry a bit longer than necessary. I know she likes his horse,” Beatrice added hopefully. “What of Galliard?”

Hamlin’s smile grew confident. “I assure you, Lady Beatrice, Roen is attracted to Lenora.” He saw Beatrice begin to retreat. “Nay, I mean he cares. He admires her fire and wit.”

“Then why does he not tell her? Lenora is forever lamenting that men do not appreciate a woman’s thoughts and ideas.”

“I wish that he could, but long ago a woman hardened his heart.”

Beatrice sighed and turned her gaze to study the tip of her toes. “Then ‘tis hopeless. Lenora is too stubborn to admit her feelings and Galliard refuses.”

Hamlin chuckled and tilted her chin so that her downcast eyes met his own. “Aye, ‘twould be hopeless if there were not the two of us. We must be the words and actions for our friends and find a way for them to find the happiness they deserve. Do you agree to help in this plot?”

Beatrice nodded eagerly. “For Lenora. What must I do?”

Hamlin removed his hand reluctantly. He forced himself not to push the fragile beauty too far too quickly. “Lenora has not put in an appearance at her own wedding. Roen has told no one of what transpired in the wood, but as you said, there is gossip. She must come down and put a stop to the rumors. Not so much for Roen, but for her own sake.”

“She told me she plans to come down only for the ceremony, not before. When the cleric finishes the vows, she will return to her room.”

“Her room? Sir Edmund vacated his solar for the wedding couple.”

“Aye, Roen’s things have already been moved in, but Lenora has moved none of her belongings. She said
her
room.”

Urgency made Hamlin rush to disclose his plan. “This will only add fat to the fire and make our job more difficult. You must make her see there is nothing to fear.”

“Lenora is not afraid of anyone or anything,” Beatrice boasted.

“Nay, dove. She fears what Roen fears. To love someone, to care. Roen has never known any affection, so he mistrusts it. For Lenora ‘tis the opposite. Her brother, her father and her home, she opened her heart to. All she has lost or will soon lose. She fears to love and lose again.”

The girl before him grew quiet. Her sapphire eyes looked at him with a new fortitude of spirit. “Aye, I see what you speak is true. But I have never been the one to give courage. ‘Tis always been the other way around with us. Lenora is the one who gives me comfort with her bravery.”

Hamlin spoke quietly. “Then ‘tis time you return the boon, time for Lenora to draw wisdom and strength from you.”

Lenora stared at nothing and everything from the wide balcony window of her room. The brilliant silk banners of her father’s vassals passed beneath her, barely noticed. Gay melodies drifted on the air. Her wedding celebration sounded like a wonderful, exciting affair. As a little girl, fantasies of her wedding day had filled her make-believe world. As a real bride, the day brought her only despair.

“You’re not even dressed?” Beatrice exclaimed when she entered the room. “Your guests are waiting for you to make an appearance.”

Lenora kept her unfocused gaze on the scene outside. “I’m in no hurry.”

Beatrice moved to the balcony. “Lenora, come downstairs. As ‘tis, we will scarcely have time to ready you by the ceremony.”

“There will be time. I’ve laid my dress out. ‘Twill only take a moment to pull it on and lace it.”

Her cousin glanced at the bed and horror filled her eyes. “Nay, you cannot mean to wear that. Why, only a fortnight ago I saw you wearing it to do garden work.” She crossed to the bed
and grabbed the end of the skirt. “See, the hem is pulled and grass-stained.”

Lenora tugged her gaze from the parade below and felt a splinter of stubbornness return. “Do you think I will give those people down there the impression this union is something I want? Do you think I do not know what they say about me? Let them think what they want. I will not pretend that this day is joyful to me. Today is the first day of my prison sentence, with Galliard as my jailer.”

An ember of anger thawed the ice in her soul. She crossed to the chest that held her clothes and removed an intricately inlaid wooden box. The cold, smooth feel of the lacquered object sickened her. She couldn’t bear to touch it any longer.

She thrust the coffer into the other woman’s hands. “Look at the penance Galliard does me.”

Beatrice opened the hinged box and gasped. Inside lay a chain-link necklace of gold. Coarsely cut beads of emeralds and amber studded the chain. “’Tis beautiful.” Her eyes rose and she smiled. Her lips moved in a whisper. “He’s right.”

“Who’s right?” Lenora didn’t understand the reaction the jewelry elicited in her cousin.

“Lenora, this necklace is you.” Beatrice lifted the chain from the box and held her arm high to let the light dance off the gems. “See, the rope, ‘tis delicate but strong. The warm amber stones are like your eyes and the emeralds go with your hair.”

“You are a romantic. Galliard is trying to buy my forgiveness. He thinks a trinket will wipe the memory of this day from my mind.” Lenora gripped the box and threw it across the room.

“Then show him he did not break you and that petty jewels will not buy you. Let everyone see that Galliard’s crime only blackens his name and not yours. Come downstairs with your head high.”

Lenora stared at the box on the floor. Completely intact, it showed no damage from the impact with the wall. Beatrice followed her gaze and retrieved it. “See, Lenora, the beauty is still there despite the punishment it received. No scratches or scars mar its beauty.”

The highly varnished finish reflected Lenora’s blurred image. She took the box from her cousin and rubbed her hands along the sleek lines.

“Lenora, there are many of your father’s vassals in attendance.” Beatrice added, “As are many of your father’s enemies. If they see unrest today, they are sure to store it away for use later on.”

“How can so much power be held in my actions, yet leave me powerless?” She tossed the box on the bed and reached for her kirtle.

“Wait, not that gown. Don’t make Galliard out to be a martyr.”

Lenora paused. “What do you mean?”

“Do not meet your father’s underlords dressed poorly. ‘Tis Galliard that will reap their sympathy to marry such a woman. They will cluck like old women and give their backing to Galliard that he must marry an uncomely bride.” Beatrice grabbed the work gown and tossed it on the floor. “Lenora, I have seen you when your face is lit with life and a cause. You outshine any boring beauty. That is the face you must present, for then any man will see that Galliard is a knave for trying to besmirch your name.”

Lenora stood silent then slowly nodded. “How have you suddenly grown so wise, Cousin?”

Beatrice took the brush and positioned Lenora on the side of the bed. The brush moved through the amber tresses with a purpose. “I’ve had an excellent teacher, Cousin. I am glad to finally be able to return the kindness.”

Roen paced across the dais again. His father-in-law sat in a huge chair at the center of the table. He did not speak, only stared at Roen with silent accusation. Hamlin, stationed at the stairs, offered no respite to Roen’s discomfort. His friend glanced up toward the gallery, looked away, then turned and looked up the stairs again. A smile, then an open grin split his face. He turned and signaled that Lenora had finally decided to make an appearance. Roen stood ready to meet his bride.

The din of the room silenced as the two females descended the stairs. The hush spread like a flame on a grassland, slow at first, then all-consuming. Roen wiped his palms on the sides of
his tunic. He waited, and wondered where all his famed patience had fled to.

Beatrice reached the bottom step and paused near Hamlin. She moved aside to let Lenora pass. Roen moved to claim his betrothed but stopped when she entered the sunlit room. He had pictured the ghost that walked the castle for the last three days; instead a princess entered the hall. Relief and joy pumped into his heart. He feared Lenora dead in spirit but she arose like a phoenix, more beautiful than ever before. His Nora had returned.

She walked gracefully to join him, her red gold hair in two braids that reached well below her waist. Encased in twisted gold ribbons, they shone like copper ropes. His favorite curl did not strain against the confines of her ear but bounced free and saucy. A foliated coronet set with sapphires held a stormy blue gauze veil in place. The fine pleats of her matching bliaut trailed the floor. As she walked, the azure of her veil and gown shimmered in the light.

Long wide sleeves puffed at the upper arm were highlighted with ties of gold ribbon. The spotless white of her silk undergown peeked at the neck and wrist. Over her bliaut she wore a gold honeycomb corselet. A blue-and-gold embroidered girdle wound twice around her body and tied low on her hip.

Like a queen among her subjects, his intended held her head high. She met the eyes of everyone she addressed, her gaze steady and unyielding. Roen waited breathless; the ache to feel the curve of her body at his side became insistent. Lenora filled his vision and he did not wish to break the spell. His hand moved forward and he slid his fingers between hers. The hunger for her deepened and he restrained himself from jerking her into his arms.

Her eyes met his and he felt a part of his heart freeze. No warmth kindled in the two topaz orbs. Like the gem, the beauty glowed, but coldly, with no emotion. Roen noticed she wore no amber-and-emerald jewelry. She wore not even the color green. As her eyes traveled down his emerald tunic, they grew colder.

“Just like a woman to keep us waiting.” Sir Edmund motioned his daughter closer. “But the wait was well worth it.” His voice grew emotional. “I’m glad I lived to see this day. You’ve made me a proud father.” His voice became louder as
he stated the last. He narrowed his eyes to thin slits and stabbed several guests with his stare.

“You do me an honor, Sir Edmund.” Roen’s voice matched the elder’s. The low tittering in the room silenced when he pierced the crowd with his gaze.