Carolyne Cathey (10 page)

To ease her
nerves, Eleanor scanned Lord Kyle's chamber.  The red and gold of his bed
caught her attention.  Of a sudden, the draped rectangle seemed to grow even
larger.  Then she saw that the valley made by their bodies remained, and she
grinned. 

"Do you long
to be in my bed, lass?"

Eleanor jerked
her gaze back to his.  "Nay.  'Twas only a memory that prompted my good
humor.  You claimed you would beat me before my imprint upon the mattress had a
chance to cool.  But not only has my imprint cooled, my lord, I believe ice has
formed in the indention."

Lord Kyle stood,
slow, purposeful, and moved around the table to stand in front of her. 

Had she gone too
far with her sarcasm?  Had she angered him?  Eleanor tensed for . . . what?

He grasped her
arms and pulled her to her feet.

'"But, my
lord, the game---"

His hot gaze
pierced into her wanton core, set it to a boil, muddled her mind.  His mouth
brushed her ear. 

"That
coldness of which you boast will not last for long, my sweet.  Your hot passion
when I take you will vaporize the ice into a cloud of steam around our naked
lust."

How could she win
against such a grand retort?  Especially since her body didn't respond in fury,
but in nervous expectation. 

He lowered his
face.  His ale-scented breath wafted warm against her mouth.  His lips touched
hers.

She drowned in
the sensation.  Eleanor opened her mouth without encouragement, and he
groaned.  When she clasped her hands behind his neck, the warm length of his
body pressed against her and a moan rolled from her throat.  His tongue claimed
her mouth, and her breath.  He tasted, explored, devoured, until her bones
became as warm wax, all soft and pliable.

Uncertain if she
broke some mortal sin, she slid her tongue into his mouth and touched the
smooth inside of his cheek.

His body went
rigid.  He halted for a moment, then his kiss became more urgent. 

He rubbed his
hard manhood against her, and now she knew what that hardness meant.  "My
lord."  She breathed the prayer of help into his mouth.

He took a breath,
tilted his face the other way, and crushed her mouth with his again.  She felt
his hand clutch her buttocks and lift her against the movement of his rigid
maleness.  Sweet heaven.  She hoped he would never cease.

"Do you
enjoy my kisses, lass?"  His wet lips moved over hers as he asked the
obvious.

"Aye.  'Tis
beyond wonderful."

He groaned. 
"I thought as much."  He whispered the arrogance into her mouth, and
she melted a bit more.

She slipped her
tongue underneath his and ran the tip over the slick sweetness.  A great ache
built inside her until the warm wax of her bones melted and spread heat
throughout her being.

Lord Kyle pulled
his mouth from hers.  "I must have you, lass.  Let's cease this foolish
game and begin a better one in my bed."

Eleanor wasn't
certain she could speak, her lungs labored so for air.  "Do you mean that
I'll be your lady anyway, my lord?"

Lord Kyle
released her and stepped back. 

The sudden
release shot pain through her injured feet and she collapsed onto her chair. 
"Ouch!"  He did the deed apurpose!  He knew she would not be able to
stand if she were caught unprepared.  Her backside would carry a nasty bruise
from his unknightly behavior.  The pain jolted her senses back into place, from
her groin into her brain.

"Stubborn
shrew!"  His shouted words bounced from the stone walls and repeated his
unkind roar in her ears.

John picked that
unfortunate moment to step into the room.  Eleanor pitied the lad.

Lord Kyle spun to
face him.  "Why in the flames of hell are you here?"

John jerked so
hard with the verbal onslaught that ale sloshed out of the ewer onto his arm,
then dripped onto the rushes.  "You called for ale, milord."

"I did not! 
I did no such thing!  Why do you lie?"

The stricken lad
seemed about to expire from fear.  Ale spilled over in waves to a spreading
puddle on the floor.

"He tells
the truth, Sire.  You did request more ale and another tankard."  Eleanor
bit her kiss-swollen lip.  If she laughed, Lord Kyle might lose the little
control he still possessed and take his frustration out on her, so she coughed,
instead.

Lord Kyle
glowered.  "Hold your tongue, wench.  Do not dare to interfere
again."

John quaked.  The
ale continued to wash over the side of the ewer, drenching his clothes, his
shoes.

"Set the
ewer upon the table, John, and do not enter my chamber again.  Not even if I
call you.  Do you understand?"

Eleanor could
tell from the look on John's pathetic face he didn't.  How could he respond to
such opposites?

"If I see
you any more this night, I will flail your hide from your back and feed it to
the dogs.  So you'd best not answer my summons.  Now do you understand?"

Poor John stood,
his face as white as new snow, with an expression of wonder as to how he could
obey such an order, for either way he would be in trouble from his master. 
John hurried to the table and clunked the containers on the wooden planks, then
bolted for the door.

"I said, do
you understand?"

The lad turned,
terrified.  His throat bobbled.  "I'm trying, milord."

Lord Kyle let out
a shout of exasperation. “Is it too much to ask for at least one warm body to
obey my orders in this cursed keep, and will you, at least, obey me?"

"No,
milord.  I mean, aye, milord.  Oh, dear.  I don't think I know the right
answer."

Lord Kyle shook
his fist in the lad's face.  "Get out!  Get out right now!"

"Aye,
milord!"  John turned and lunged through the doorway.

Lord Kyle slammed
the door so hard that Eleanor watched to see if the wood splintered from the
abuse. 

The chess pieces
teetered as he sat again at the table.

He glared into
her face.  "Do not dare to distract me again from my concentration,
wench.  I have never played with such a rude opponent.  'Tis what I get for
agreeing to accommodate a woman.  Now play."  His royal highness sat back,
arms crossed, his face as red as a hot coal.

Eleanor pursed
her mouth to prevent her laughter.

The corners of
the angry thin line of his lips twitched.  A tic quivered in one eyelid. 
"Well?  Why do you stare at me?  Make your move."

"'Tis your
turn, my lord."

His shoulders
sagged.  "Oh.  I knew that, of course.  I only tested you to see if you
would try to cheat me."

Eleanor's mouth
dropped open.  "Cheat you?"

"Hush,
woman.  I need to concentrate."  Lord Kyle frowned at the board.  His
chest rose and fell as he struggled to regain his composure.  After great
thought, he made his move.

Humming a random
tune, she plotted her next play.  She thought, and hummed. 

"Must you
make that horrid noise?"

She clasped her
hands in front her face to hide her grin and studied the chessboard for her
options.  Which move?

Thunder vibrated
the shutters.  Rain beat against the keep as if to wear away the stone walls.

Lord Kyle drummed
his fingers on the table.

Should she move
her knight?  Her queen's bishop?  Or should she execute a castling?  She chewed
on her thumbnail.

Lord Kyle tapped
his foot on the floor.  He crossed his legs.  He uncrossed his legs.  He
drummed his fingers.

Thrum. 
Thrum.  Thrum
.

She closed her
eyes in exasperation, then opened them again to ponder her strategy.

Lord Kyle snored.

She laughed.

"Ah.  That's
better, lass.  You looked like you'd eaten unripe fruit."

She grinned and
glanced up at him, then stilled.  How could his expression have changed so
fast?  Instead of rage, lust blazed blue in his eyes again.  The man must be
made of pure passion.  She tore her thoughts from him and forced her attention
to the game.  She dare not make a mistake.  Not now.

The fire writhed
to one side, a constant reminder of the flames of hell should she lose.  And
the lord's bed loomed to her other side, another constant reminder of her fate
should she lose.  She sat between them, a woman alone, without even a knight to
defend her honor, only one determined to rob her of the same.  Her hands
trembled.  With a sigh, she moved her rook, then glanced at the bed again.  To
drown her fear she took a large gulp of ale.

"You do
realize, do you not, Eleanor, that whatever the outcome of this game you will
end up beneath me in my bed, naked, your white thighs spread in
surrender."

Eleanor inhaled a
tight breath and choked on the liquid.  Her throat burned.  Tears formed.  She
jerked her blurred gaze to his, mouth open.  Nay, she had not thought of the
results in those terms.  Only that she would be his wife.

"Either way,
I will have you."  He grinned.  His face showed a sensual amusement at her
reaction.  "Either way, you lose your precious virginity."

She still
stared.  Either way, he would take her.  Why had that not occurred to her?

Lord Kyle
winked.  "Either way, I win."  He chuckled and leaned toward her,
then drew his rough finger over her mouth.  "You drool, Eleanor.  Do you
drool in anticipation, love?"

His touch sent
shivers along her melted bones.  The memory of his hands on her flesh lurched
into her mind.  He would expect her to do things beyond her knowledge.  He
spoke of her spread thighs.  And of thrusts past her maidenhead.  Merciful
saints.  What would he do to her?  What would he expect her to do? 

Lord Kyle dipped
his hand into his ale and placed his index finger into her still open mouth. 
"Now, suck."

She did.  Like a
slave without a will of her own, she obeyed.  He pulled his finger back and she
opened her mouth.

"Nay, lass. 
Continue to suck my finger.  This is my first, nay, my second lesson for you. 
The first was the kiss.  Now, whatever I do, suck on my finger."

Shock still
controlled her mind.  She felt like a mute rabbit.  But curious, she did as
instructed.  He moved his finger in and out of her mouth while she sucked.  The
action confused her, seemed stupid nonsense.  But yet, something wondrous
turned over in her chest.

"This is
what you shall do later this night.  The motion will give me immense
pleasure."  His eyes turned all sultry and soft.

She pushed his
hand aside and straightened.  "You want me to suck your finger?" 
Hope flared.  Not an unpleasant task.  She could do that without dread. 
"Does that really give you pleasure, my lord?"

"Open." 
He put his finger back in her mouth and moved it in, and out.  "Not my
finger lass.  Although 'tis shaped somewhat similar.  The part I have in mind
is larger and lower down on my body."  He smiled.  "I see you are
still puzzled.  My dagger, lass.  The one attached."

Eleanor's eyes
widened with understanding.  She bit down.  Hard.

"
O
w!  Satan's curse!" 
Lord Kyle clutched his finger, shock on his face.  "You bit me!  My first
order will be for you to have all your teeth removed."

"That's what
you may expect if you shove that thing of yours anywhere close to me,
Kyle!"

"'Tis, my
lord.  And this is the first time I can ever remember the desire to both
strangle and ravish a woman at the same time."  He sucked on his finger,
then inspected his injury.  "I think I shall do both.  You are a trial,
for certain."

"
I
am
a trial?  You speak things to me no decent woman should ever have to hear,
subjects we never discussed at the convent.  I am appalled, Sire."

Lord Kyle burst
into laughter and leaned across the table, his eyes blue defiance. 
"Decent women receive much pleasure from such subjects, but not from the
mere discussion, lass.  Nevertheless, I am your lord and master.  You will do
whatever I ask."

"You
arrogant---" Eleanor sneezed.

He grinned and
leaned closer.  "Eleanor." 

He spoke her name
in such a husky whisper that she tensed with foreboding. 

"You
will
do aught I ask when you share my bed."

She struggled for
a grand retort, but all response from her mind had drained to her womanhood and
left her senseless.

Lightning
cracked.  Thunder shook the chamber.

Eleanor realized
that more than desperation controlled her, for something horrid prowled for
possession of her body.  Her bones ached.  Her head throbbed.  A chill claimed
her flesh.  Her throat burned as if held over a hot fire.

"You are as
but water in a stream."  Lord Kyle moved his hand to indicate waves. 
"Mine to control and use as I will.  To sup from and quench my thirst.  To
refresh me."  He lowered his sultry voice.  "To dip my body
into."  He paused and intensified the passion in his heated stare. 
"To submerge into your wetness."  He arched a brow in victory.

"Ah." 
She rubbed her palms together to hide her quaver and to re-stir her brain to
her defense.  Sup and dip, indeed.  The insolence!  "Then you are as the
watermill with thick walls of stone.  A stately presence that dominates the
hillside.  A structure of magnificence with strength to crush the helpless
grain beneath your wheel."

She could tell he
searched his mind for the insult.  He nodded, distrust in his eyes. 
"Aye.  A good analogy."

She fought a
smile.  "And as you claim, I am the water."

He stiffened. 
'Twas slight, but still she noticed. 

Eleanor met his
wary scrutiny.  "I am the power that turns your wheel.  Without the water
you are naught, of no purpose, useless, a heap of rubble."

Lord Kyle's
nostrils flared.  A twitch flickered along his jaw line.  His knuckles whitened
from his death-grip on the arms of his chair.  Snatching his tankard from the
table like a spoiled child in a bad temper, he swilled so hard that ale spilled
over the top and ran down his chin, which seemed to make him even more furious,
for with a snarl he made an angry swipe of his hand across his mouth, then
glared as if daring her to say another word.

Eleanor couldn't
contain her grin.  She had bested the Master of Disconcertion.  How sweet. 
"Life is like this game of chess, Sire."  She gestured toward the
board.  "The king is but the figure-head, the object for capture.  'Tis
the queen who makes the boldest moves, carries the most influence."  She
paused for effect and met his enraged gaze.  "Wields the power."

Heavens.  She
spouted genius.  She doubted he could recover control.

He slammed his
tankard on the table.  "Cease!  Cease, I say!"

Even though he
shouted, he offered only a weak response.  She smiled and leaned toward him. 
"I will be your lady, my magnificent mill.  Pardon me, I mean,
lord."  She shrugged.  "A slip of the tongue."

He shoved to his
feet.  "A slip of your . . . I'll tell you what I shall require of your
tongue, wench!" 

Lord Kyle's rants
blended into an indistinguishable protest as a fit of coughs racked Eleanor's
body.  Her lungs ached, stiff and tight; every breath caused pain.  Groaning,
Eleanor swallowed past the soreness in her throat.  She wished he would cease
his shouts for they echoed in her throbbing head.  Moreover, petty jibes
accomplished nothing.  She and Lord Kyle had bickered so much she had wandered
afield of their game.

He posed as if in
wait for her reply, ready with another verbal pounce, yet she couldn't even
recall what he had yelled.

Eleanor inhaled a
painful but disciplined breath.  Concentrate.  Pressing her shaky hands against
her thighs, she studied the board.  Dear heaven, why had she accepted the
sinful wager?  Then she saw the miracle.  Surely not!  Could not be!  She
scanned the board again to make certain.  Fearful that she overlooked his
winning move and played into a trap, Eleanor shifted her queen.

"Have you
lost your shrewish tongue, wench?"

Dazed with
disbelief, she stared at the board.

"Have you
naught to say in response to my remark?  A sentence?  A word?"

Stunned, she
raised her gaze to his smug expression.  "Check."

A frown marred
his handsomeness.  "'Tis an odd choice for a word.  Check what?"

She smiled and
blinked her eyes.  "The board.  'Tis check . . . and mate . . .
husband."

"What?" 
His rage sounded with more fury than the storm as he leaned forward and gripped
the edge of the table.  "'Tis a trick!"

Eleanor glanced
at the direct line from her queen to his king.  She had won.  She would be Lord
Kyle's lady.  Black and white swirled in front of her blurred eyes.

"Nay!  You
distracted me!  And besides, 'tis my move."

His lady.  His
magnificent hands on her flesh.  His wondrous mouth on hers.  For shame.  Her
thoughts should be of Trystonwood, not Lord Kyle's touch.  His touch of fire. 
Pleasurable fire.  And he had mentioned her spread thighs.  And her mouth on .
. . heavens have mercy . . . on his dagger.  Her gaze flew to her future
bedmate. 

He studied the
board, a frantic look on his ashen face, his glazed eyes pale like a wintry
sky.  Would the move of his chess piece destroy her decadent images?

Eleanor cleared
her painful throat.  "Should I summon Brigham, my husband?  Should I
inform him that I will oust him from power?"

"Cease,
Eleanor!  Brigham stays!" He glowered rage.  "You vixen!  You witch! 
You slink into my life with your lies about prophecies and upend my serene
world."

"You
suggested the wager, my lord.  Not I."

"Then stop
your babbling and allow me to concentrate.  You have striven to distract me
from the first moment.  Besides, you meddle where 'tis none of your affair. 
You shall only meddle with what I possess between my legs."

Eleanor pushed to
her feet.  "'Tis vulgar!"

"'Tis your
lot!"  His face flushed the red heat of his anger as he jerked his thumb
toward his chest.  "And no matter the outcome, I run this estate, not
you.  And I say, Brigham stays."

"What
position of power does he hold over you?  He looks upon you with naught but
disregard."

"You
question his disregard?  You, who has shown naught but defiance?  He's my
steward.  He manages the estate in my absence."

"He's
vicious."

"Hah!  So
you say.  You seek revenge for what he attempted at the village green." 

"Nay!  'Tis
his treachery with Trystonwood, his cruelty."

He whirled from
the table, then paced the floor as he ran his fingers through his strands of
spun gold.  "You only arrived this day.  You know naught of our
affairs."

"Lucinda is
frightened of him.  Even the peddlers are loathe to pass through your village
for fear of his meanness."

"We'll ask
Lucinda and the other peasants."

"They would
be too terrified of retribution to answer with honesty."

He faced her, his
expression incredulous.  "Do you expect me to release him on your say so? 
Do you think I have no loyalty?  Now hold your vengeful tongue or I'll cut the
cursed weapon from your mouth.  A grand thought, that one."  The chess
pieces wobbled as Kyle sat again in his chair. 

"Loyalty to
Brigham?  What about his loyalty to you?  Brigham has betrayed your trust. 
He---" 

A loud crash
resounded within the chamber. 

Eleanor flinched,
jerking her gaze to the now open doorway.

Brigham swept
into the chamber.  Hatred, pure and hot, shot like arrows from his eyes to slay
her courage.

She almost
swallowed her threatened tongue.

Fury contorted
Lord Kyle's expression.  He spun toward the door.  "What do you
here?"

Brigham neared
the table.  Venom oozed from his every pore.

Eleanor's heart
scrambled for a place to hide; her mind screamed "courage!"  Her body
became entrapped between the two emotions and froze.  Yet, as the new lady,
retreat would be unthinkable.  For the villagers' sake as well as hers she must
be brave.

Brigham's ebony
gown flowed in ripples with each of his irate strides.  His arm flashed out. 
Chess pieces flew like seeds in the wind and clattered onto the floor.

"Nay!  What
have you done?"  Infuriated, Eleanor stared at the empty board and the
scattered bits of her future.

Lord Kyle leapt
to his feet.  "Brigham!  What is the meaning of this?"

"Jerrod
thought to amuse me with a fireside tale.  About a wager."  Brigham
crossed his arms on his chest and swaggered a pose.  "The game is
unfinished.  Thus this witch is not, and never will be your lady."

"You go too
far, Brigham!"

"You've lost
your senses, Kyle.  One of us must pay heed."

Eleanor shoved
her hands on her hips.  "I won the wager, Sirrah!  Lord Kyle witnessed the
fact."

Triumph gleamed
from Brigham's eyes.  "The game is unfinished, thus no wager stands."

"I'll place
the chessmen upon the board where they stood before you swept them away! 
'Twill be proof of my win."

"The outcome
is too important for happenstance."

Lord Kyle grasped
Brigham by his shoulders.  "Get out!  And do not dare to enter again
without my permission."

"As you
command, my lord and master."  Disdain dripped thick with his tone.  He
shoved Lord Kyle's hands aside and sauntered to the doorway, then turned and
nodded to Eleanor.  "Your wiles serve you naught, witch.  Kyle is already
betrothed."

Shock numbed her
body.  "Already . . ." She confronted Lord Kyle and saw his startled
expression.  "Your treachery deepens, my lord."

A mixture of
repulsion and dismay flooded Lord Kyle's face.  He opened his mouth but nothing
emerged.

Eleanor's outrage
shattered her tenuous control.  "How long did you think to keep such a
secret?"

"Hush,
Eleanor."  He waved his hand as if he shooed away a pesky gnat, his
agitated concentration on his steward.  "You know naught of a betrothal,
Brigham."

"'Tis to
Lady Mellisande, a beauty, pale and fair, not a village whore."

Lord Kyle seemed
as if struck a blow, amazement in his eyes.  "How know you of this matter?"

His response
thrust the painful truth into her heart.  He had lied.

Kyle gestured
toward the door.  "Wait for me in the solar, Brigham.  Now!"

A triumphant grin
on his face, Brigham nodded, then left the chamber.

Struggling to
restrain her wrath she faced Lord Kyle.  "I like not this world outside
the convent.  'Tis filled with lies and betrayal, greed and lust."

"'Tis not as
the situation seems."

"I believed
in your vow.  You're a knight.  You're pledged to honesty, as you're pledged to
honor women, but we both know how meaningless your word on both accounts.  You
are a liar and a fraud!"

His pale
complexion deepened to an angry red.  "Watch your tongue, woman!"

"Cut out my
tongue as you've threatened!  Then you cannot defile it with your own." 
She picked up her tankard and heaved.

Lord Kyle stepped
aside but the container hit his arm, then crashed to the floor.  A wet stain
spread on the sleeve of his robe.  He looked down, then at her, surprised. 
"Are you in collusion with my potter, woman?  He'll grow rich and fat from
all the broken pottery I must replace because of you."

"You know I
bested you!  If you had won, you would have insisted I keep my part of the
wager.  And indeed, I had intended to comply, fool that I am."  Her voice
rose against her will and became shrill.

Before she knew
his intent, Kyle scooped her up in his arms and tossed her on his bed. 
"Nay.  'Tis only a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" 
Violent denial claimed Eleanor's mind as she struggled to free herself from his
hold.  "Do I misunderstand again, or do you plan to ravish me, valiant
knight?"  She screamed the words she hated him so.

"Be still,
Eleanor.  I'll not harm you."

"Your mouth
knows not how to speak the truth.  You have the tongue of the devil.  You tempt
with sweet words to hide your black heart." 

"Cease,
Eleanor.  Cease, I say.  Stop kicking.  Don't hit."  He gritted his teeth
and groped for her arms.  "Eleanor!"

She flailed
against his grasp.  "Unhand me, Sirrah!"

"Eleanor,
there is much of which you know naught.  I'll handle this predicament, believe
me."

"Nay!  I'll
never believe you again.  Never."  She wrested her wrists from his hands
and scooted across the fur toward the side of the bed.  "I leave you to
your perfidy.  I'll sleep upon the floor in another part of the castle."

Lord Kyle shook
his head.  "Nay, lass.  I want you here."

"You cannot
coerce me to be your leman, Sirrah.  The game is unfinished.  Remember?" 
Tilting her face upward to the man who could slay her with a swipe of his hand,
she forced a smile of defiance on her numb mouth.