“You . . . angered me,” he said.
She looked at him searchingly. “Will you send me home, my lord? Back to Belleterre? ’Twill still be yours. My father would not renege on your agreement.”
“No!”
“Why not? You care nothing for me.”
“You are mine,” he said very softly, “and what is mine I keep. Never again try to escape me, Kassia, else I will lock you away.”
Unbidden, the image of Graelam thrusting into Nan rose into her mind, and she felt such fury that she felt she would choke on it. She drew back her hand and slapped him as hard as she could.
“Now you will either kill me or let me go,” she hissed, her voice breaking with little gasps.
No woman had ever struck him. One man had, once, long ago, and he had died very quickly. She was so small, so fragile. He could kill her with one blow. He did not move. “You will bend to me,” he said finally, very quietly. “Aye, you will bend to me, for I am your master and your husband.”
She stood stiff as a stone before him, her silence defiance.
“Come, Kassia,” he said, taking her arm quite gently. “We are returning to Wolffeton before my men mount a search.”
She knew she had no choice. If she struggled with him, he could simply subdue her with one arm.
As she rode beside him back to Wolffeton, she felt the maze of anger and shock recede from her mind. Dear God, what had she done? She did not want to be a prisoner; she did not want him to beat her. She ran her tongue over her dry lips.
“What will you do?”
He heard the thread of fear in her voice. She will bend to me, he thought. But he hated her fear.
He said nothing. When they rode into the inner bailey, Guy rushed toward them, his face drawn with worry. Graelam saw him gaze toward his wife, and felt a renewed surge of anger at the tenderness in Guy’s eyes.
“My wife wished for a midnight ride,” he said curtly. “See to our horses,” he continued to the stable boy. He pulled Kassia off Bluebell’s back and led her into the keep.
Blanche watched Graelam draw Kassia toward the stairs. She stayed in the shadows of the hall, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Soon, she thought. Very soon.
17
Graelam stood against the door of his bedchamber, his arms crossed over his chest, watching Kassia walk slowly toward his chair and ease down on its edge.
“Why did you run from me?” he asked abruptly.
She did not look up. He saw her hands twisting frantically in her lap.
“Why?” he repeated.
“I . . . I don’t know,” she said finally.
His dark eyes gleamed. “Could it be, my lady wife,” he drawled softly, “that you were jealous? Nan is a comely wench, and enjoys a man well.”
Her head shot up, and he felt a stab of anger at the incredulous look on her face. Was she so impervious to him then?
“Aye, jealous,” he repeated, even more softly this time.
The words tumbled out before she could halt them. “Jealous because my husband takes another woman? Nay, my lord. If you do not choose to honor our marriage vows, who am I to gainsay you?”
“Then why did you run from me?”
“I . . . I did not wish to stay,” she said, knowing he could see the lie in her eyes. She could not answer his question, even to herself. She had felt fury and such unhappiness that she had not thought clearly. She had thought only to escape.
“Ah, Kassia,” he said, striding toward her. “You begin to try my patience.” He saw her eyes darken as he approached her, and her slender body stiffen. He stopped. “You are such a curious little thing,” he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “You strike me, revile me, and tremble with fear before me. And you lie to me. Come here, Kassia.”
She heard the steel in his voice, even though he had spoken softly, almost meditatively. Slowly, hating herself for her cowardice, she rose and walked to him. She stiffened when he closed his hands over her arms.
“Look at me,” he said.
She obeyed him.
“Listen well, wife, for I will not tell you again. You will keep your winsome smiles to yourself, and away from Sir Guy, or any other of my men for that matter. And, Kassia, if ever you do something so stupid as attempt to flee from me, I will treat you like an ill-broken mare.” His hands tightened on her arms. “Do you understand me, wife?”
“I understand you,” she whispered.
“Do you? Do you really? I wonder. Your father was like soft rain flowing through your small fingers, wasn’t he? He suffered your woman’s demands, your woman’s wiles, without complaint. Indeed, he was so besotted with you that he did not see the power you wielded over him. I am not your father. To assist you to understand me, I will be more specific, my lady. If ever again you attempt to flee from me, I will tie you to my bed. I will spread your legs wide, and I will use you until I am tired of your skinny body. Now do you understand?”
“I understand,” she whispered again.
“Good.” He released her and calmly began removing his clothing. He paused a moment, then strode naked to the door and opened it.
“Evian!” he bellowed.
The small boy scampered up from his pallet. “Aye, my lord?”
“Fetch me a goblet of wine, boy.”
Graelam turned and stood indolently by the open door, as if daring her to gaze upon him. “You do not wish to look upon your husband?”
Kassia felt a frisson of alarm. She moistened her lips and forced herself to gaze at him. “I am looking,” she said.
“Do you feel no quickening between your slender thighs my lady? No desire to share your husband’s bed?”
His mocking voice made her forget her fear of him, just as he guessed it would. “Shall I get Nan for you, my lord?” she asked coldly. “Perhaps,” she continued, “the wine will help you, for I do not believe you are ready for her.”
He drew in his breath, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Wine my lady wife, has not that effect. A drunken husband is an impotent one. But that is what you would prefer, is it not?”
“Allow me, my lord, to have a cask sent from Belleterre for you.”
He threw back his head and laughed deeply. “You do not break, do you? Particularly if you are more than ten feet away from me. My distance gives you courage. Ah, my wine. Thank you, boy. Go back to your bed now.” He shut the door with the heel of his foot, downed the wine, and walked to his bed, knowing that her eyes followed him. He stretched upon his back and turned his dark eyes toward her. “Let us test the power of the wine. Remove your clothes, and then we shall see.”
She shook her head, mute.
“You fear me again?”
She nodded, hating herself, hating him.
“Very well. Blow out the candles to preserve your modesty. I will not tell you again, Kassia.”
She scampered to douse the candles. She looked warily toward the unshuttered windows. Moonlight flowed unhampered into the room. She picked up her bedrobe and fled to the far corner of the chamber. Her fingers worked clumsily at the fastenings of her gown. She did not understand him. There had been no ladies in her life to guide her in dealing with a man such as he. But how to deal with a man who mocked and laughed at her, a man who seemed at one moment to despise her and the next to threaten her when she had tried to escape him?
She drew a shaky breath, and drew her bedrobe tightly around her.
“Kassia, I await you.”
She shivered at the words he had spoken. He knew that she feared him, knew that she was helpless against him. She slipped between the covers and lay perfectly still.
“Come here.”
His voice was soft, even beguiling. It was the same voice he had used when she had first come to Wolffeton. That time seemed so long ago now. He had been gentle, drawing her trust to him. She remembered teasing him, smiling at him, enjoying his touch.
“Please,” she whispered, even as she forced her body to turn toward him.
/>
His arms closed around her, drawing her against him. He felt the tension in her, could hear her short, gasping breaths as she tried to still her fear of him. One of her hands was drawn into a fist and lay against his chest.
Graelam frowned at himself as his hand gently began to knead the nape of her neck. If he wanted to take her, he should simply rip aside her clothing and possess her. A promise to a woman meant nothing. A promise, he reminded himself, gave a woman power. He felt the delicate bones of her shoulders as his hand gently continued its slow kneading. As the minutes passed, he felt the tension ease from her body. Her tight muscles relaxed under his probing fingers. His promise to her. He smiled into the darkness. No, he would not force her again. He would make her beg for him.
He continued stroking her until he felt her heart slow and her breathing even into sleep.
He turned on his side, facing her. He gathered her against him, and felt himself grow hard at the feel of her soft belly. He smiled, harshly, and willed himself to sleep.
When he awoke early the next morning, Kassia was wrapped in his arms, one of her slender thighs between his legs, her cheek burrowed into the hollow of his neck. Slowly he eased his hand inside her bedrobe and began to caress her buttocks. She feels like soft satin, he thought, and his body leapt in response. Her legs were slightly parted, easing his way, and he rested his fingers against her warm softness, savoring the feel of her, the delicate womanness.
As his fingers rhythmically stroked her and caressed her, she sighed softly in her sleep and drew closer to him, her arm tightening over his chest.
Kassia moaned, and the sound from her own throat, deep and aching, brought her to consciousness. Her lashes fluttered in the dim early-morning light. She was first aware of encompassing warmth, then a tingling sensation low in her belly. She lay very still, not understanding, her mind still befuddled with sleep and the gentle, aching dream that had made her want to burrow and move sensuously within it. She felt a raspy breath against her temple. Graelam. She stiffened, aware of his body, his fingers tormenting her.
“Hush,” she heard him say softly, his lips feathering lightly against her ear.
She felt the sensation burn deep within her, and her body, without her permission, moved against his questing fingers. She felt the thick hair on his chest against her breasts, and she pressed herself more closely against him.
“That pleases you, doesn’t it, Kassia?”
She moaned, her hands clutching at him.
Suddenly his fingers were gone, and he had left her. She watched him stupidly as he rose from the bed and gazed down at her. She stared up at him, her body bereft, not understanding. She trembled with need, and suddenly awareness flooded over her, and she knew what he had done to her.
“Aye,” he said, his dark eyes alight on her face. “Will you beg me to take you now, my lady wife? You must beg me, you know.”
She quivered with fury at herself, quivered with her own weakness. “I hate you,” she whispered, the words coming from her mouth in a hoarse croak.
He threw back his head and laughed deeply.
She felt so humiliated, so light-headed with rage at what he had done, she could not control herself. She jumped from the bed, oblivious of her nakedness, and flung herself at him, pounding her fists at his chest, yelling her fury at him.
He clasped her hands easily. “Remind me, Kassia,” he said in a taunting whisper, “to tell you how to hurt a man.” Carelessly he picked her up in his arms and tossed her back onto the bed.
“I hate you!” she shrieked at him. “You are cruel, an animal! I will hurt you!”
“Oh no, wife,” he said, his eyes narrowing on her pale face. “A possession does not harm its master.”
She closed her eyes against the utter hopelessness his words brought her.
“I wish to break my fast,” he said coldly, his voice matter-of-fact. “Dress yourself and see to it.”
Kassia chattered with desperate gaiety as she rode beside Blanche. She saw the look of pity on the other woman’s face, and grew silent. Whatever had happened to change Blanche was a blessing, Kassia thought. She had been naught but sympathetic and kind during the past several days. Kassia was grateful to her when she suggested that they ride this morning. She wanted nothing more than to escape Wolffeton, for even a brief period of time. Escape her husband and that knowing, mocking look in his eyes.
“Evian is a kind boy,” she said, breaking the silence. “The men have taken him under their wings.”
“He worships Graelam,” Blanche said. She saw the pain in Kassia’s eyes and quickly said, “Forgive me. It is a lovely morning, is it not? And the sea is so calm, like polished glass.”
“Aye,” Kassia said shortly. “Let us ride to the east, Blanche.”
“I do not know if we should.” Blanche appeared to hesitate, a frown appearing between her brows.
“ ’Twas you who disdained an escort, Blanche. We are well on Wolffeton land. There are none to harm us.”
“I suppose you are right,” Blanche said. “I worry because your husband did not give us permission to ride out. I do not wish to anger him.”
He is angered no matter what I do, Kassia thought bleakly.
Dienwald de Fortenberry sat easily on his destrier, calmly eyeing the two riders coming toward him. He recognized Blanche readily enough, but it was the other woman who held his attention. She wore a voluminous cloak and a hood covered her hair. The lady Blanche was undoubtedly correct, he thought. No man who cared for his wife would allow her to ride unprotected, even on his own lands. She was a shrew, Blanche had told him. Spoiled and sullen, and Lord Graelam would be glad to see the last of her. He had been tricked into taking her to wive, forced to recognize her.
The two men who had accompanied him were growing restive. He glanced back and frowned them to silence. He would play the game according to Blanche’s rules, he thought. Some minutes later, he waved his men forward. They rode out from the cover of the trees toward the two women.
Kassia saw the men coming and felt a moment of alarm. The man at their head was richly dressed. When he raised his hand and waved at them, she drew up Bluebell.
When the man drew close enough for her to make out his face, she knew she had been wrong. He was looking intently at her, and his eyes were narrowed and cruel. For a moment she could not draw a breath. “Blanche!” she cried, her voice a croak. “Flee!”
She wheeled Bluebell about and dug her heels into her mare’s sides. The wind tore the hood back from her hair. She felt her heart pound frantically against her breast. How could she have been so stupid as to ride out without men to accompany them?
She saw the shadow of the man as he closed beside her. She tried to jerk Bluebell away, but Blanche was riding close on her other side, hemming her in. She screamed as the man leaned over and grabbed her around her waist and lifted her easily. She fought him, kicking wildly, her hands flailing at his face. He drew to a halt. “Hold, my lady,” he said, and shook her.
Kassia was beyond reason, and she continued to kick at him.
“If you do not stop your struggling, I will throw you facedown over the saddle.”
Kassia went limp. He gathered her against him, sheltering her in the crook of his arm. She saw the two other men surround Blanche.
The man wheeled his horse about, shouting at the other two men to bring Blanche.
You are such a fool, Kassia. Such a fool. She heard herself ask in a small, thready voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Dienwald said nothing, merely spurred his destrier to a faster pace. They rode east for some twenty more minutes. When he waved his men to a halt, Kassia was rigid with fear.
He leapt from the saddle, carrying her as if she were naught but a feather. He eased her to her feet. “You will stay here, my lady,” he said in a clipped, cold voice. “If you try to leave, I will beat you senseless.”
Dienwald watched her carefully, to judge if she would obey him. Her face drained of color.
She would obey him, he had no doubt about it. “What is that woman’s name?”
“Blanche de Cormont. Please do not harm her.”
His brows lowered a moment. “Lady Blanche,” he called out. He motioned the two men to stay with Kassia, then strode toward Blanche.
“Please,” Kassia called after him, “do not harm her!”
“Come,” Dienwald said to Blanche.
He took her arm roughly and led her into a copse of thick oaks.
“You have done well, my lord,” Blanche said crisply, shaking off his hand.
“Of course,” he said. “The jewels.”
“Ah, certainly.” Blanche pulled a leather pouch from the pocket in her cloak. She opened it slowly and spread out a heavy barbaric necklace of thick pounded gold. Diamonds and rubies glittered from their settings, huge stones that made his eyes glitter as bright as the jewels.
“It is beautiful, is it not? Certainly valuable enough to take her to Brittany.”
“Lord Graelam brought it from the Holy Land?” Dienwald asked, fingering a large ruby.
“Aye. But neither you nor I, my lord, have anything to fear. Lord Graelam will think his wife stole it to escape him.”
Dienwald raised his eyes from the beautiful necklace. “If it is so valuable,” he said slowly, “will he not try to find her, just for its return? I would, were I he.”
Blanche smiled easily. “I doubt that he will realize it is missing for at least a few days. And when he does, it will be too late. He will likely believe her dead at the hands of her . . . cohorts.” She shrugged. “That, or he will believe her returned to her father in Brittany, in which case he would assume that she had long rid herself of the necklace.” She cocked a taunting brow at him. “There is nothing for you to fear, my lord.”
“You have planned this well, my lady.” He gently wrapped the necklace back into its leather pouch and thrust it into his tunic.
“Aye. I have had naught but time to do so.”