Carolyne Cathey (44 page)

"I give you
Hanley Hall and all surrounding lands."

Fool.  Dense
. 
How dare her heart give her mind hope.

Kyle growled. 
"You do this to me again?  You give me something I don't want?" 
Eleanor ducked to miss the wild gesture of Kyle's hands.  "I don't wish
for Hanley Hall.  'Tis naught but a reminder of nightmares and dragons."

King Edward
seemed surprised.  "Kyle, you amaze even me.  Mellisande was right; you
have no ambition.  'Tis sad I can't call her back to be your betrothed, to whip
you into line."

"Cease!  I
know what I want."

Did Kyle dare
request the forbidden?  She concentrated to quell the wild beats of her heart
as her hopes soared with the glorious image of them as man and wife. 

A knowing
expression flitted across King Edward's face.  "I thought as much.  So,
Kyle.  What is your fondest desire?"

Kyle touched her
with his gaze, then lifted his focus to the distance.  "A bridge."

"
A
Bridge?"

Eleanor's shocked
question echoed King Edward's.  She trusted Kyle, so he must have a good reason
for such an answer.  And the reason had better be incredible.

Control replaced
King Edward's startled expression.  "I must admit, Kyle, you've caught me
by surprise.  Your fondest desire, a bridge?  'Tis a bridge of female gender? 
'Tis a riddle?"

"In truth,
King Edward, 'tis Eleanor's idea.  I would never have thought of a span across
the Avon, but 'twill be a great boost to Trystonwood."

Skepticism
niggled past her trust.  Nay, Kyle loved her.  He had risked his life for her. 
She had faith in him. 

The king
scratched his head as if in thought.  "Of course, I still owe you a reward
from the first time you saved my life."

"You owe me
naught, King Edward.  I prefer the subject dropped."

The dolt
. 
Eleanor fisted her hands.  Did Kyle not grasp the king's blatant hint?  Or did
she not grasp Kyle's blatant rejection?  Tears of disbelief stung her eyes, but
she blinked them away. 
Nay, trust him.

The king clasped
his hands behind his back and shook his head as if confused.  "You must
know, Kyle.  Eleanor has vowed to come willingly to court as a castle whore in
exchange for my allowing you to choose a life-mate of gentle nature.  Since she
has shown such bravery this day, I have decided to accept her terms."

Eleanor's stomach
knotted.

"She did
what?"

Kyle spun and
pierced his blue gaze into hers like cold shards of ice.  "You refused to
be my leman because of your moral code.  You refused to be my wife without King
Edward's permission even though 'twas a matter of honor to me.  You also know
how I hate interference, and yet you did so again, and yet again without
consulting me."  A shudder of rage trembled his body.  "And the
greatest insult of all, you agreed to whore for strangers so that I can wed
another--even when you carry my child?"

"Well, curse
you for an ass."  Bitter hurt sharpened her words.  "Do you think I
wanted to go to court as a . . . a lightskirt?  Do you not understand that my soul
would rot from such a use, but that I agreed because I . . ."   She
wouldn't say she loved him.  Not now.  Not when tears loomed like hot
waterfalls behind her eyes.

"Why do you
refuse to have faith in me?"  Kyle's breaths rasped from his throat as if he
swallowed the urge to kill. 

King Edward
turned the garnet ring on his finger, a slight smirk on his face as if he had
accomplished some great purpose.  "Now, Kyle, back to the reward.  Either
you choose, or I.  Name another fondest desire, although I warn you, 'twill be
your last reward."  He raised his gaze to Kyle's.  "I suggest you
choose well."

"A fair,
your grace.  I'd like permission to hold fairs and markets in
Trystonwood."

Humiliation. 
Outrage.  Pain greater than any she had ever felt, seared through her chest and
burned into her heart.  Eleanor wrenched against Kyle's death grip, her jaw
clenched so tightly she would never again be able to yawn. 

King Edward
choked with utter amazement, obviously beyond trying to control his
expression.  "Kyle, did you receive a blow on your head during the
battle?"

Eleanor eyed
Kyle, her pulse in such a rage that her entire body throbbed.  "Mayhaps a
blow would help, your grace." 

"Again,
'twas Eleanor's suggestion, King Edward."  When he glanced down at her,
his features showed sincerity, but his eyes flashed fury.  "Just think,
love.  While you're flat on your back in London, you can dwell on the good you
have brought us here at Trystonwood."

"Flat on my
. . . " She jerked from his iron hold.  "Don't you dare call me
love!" 

Kyle's nostrils
flared with blazing rage, his mask of civility slipping further.  'But,
Eleanor, you now have everything you've asked for.  The bridge, the fairs--the
chance to be a whore in the king's court."

"You
obnoxious knave.  At this moment I don't think you could see your way down a
straight road on a clear day."  Eleanor whirled and sloshed into the muddy
bailey toward the gate, anywhere away from Kyle.

"Eleanor,
come here!"  Kyle's footsteps squished behind her.

She broke into a
run, but Kyle grasped her shoulders and spun her to face him. 

"You have
such high regard for me.  Do you truly believe I would share my life and bed
with another woman while you shared your body with strangers?  Well then, so be
it."  He yanked her up and tucked her under his arm like an errant
Longears, then strode toward the king as if impatient to hand her over and be
rid of her.

"How dare
you be angry with me for my sacrifice!"

"I reject
your polluted sacrifice."

"Polluted?" 
She jabbed his stomach and kicked at the back of his legs, but only bruised her
elbow and stung her toes. 

"While I was
risking my life and the lives of my friends to rescue you from Brigham, you
were making bargains behind my back to become a whore.  You will never have
faith in me!"  He set her down in front of the king like a recalcitrant
child.  "She made the pact with you, King Edward.  Take her.  She
obviously doesn't want, or need my assistance."

"Prideful
lout!"  She glared her loathing, wondering how she could have ever loved
him.

The corner of the
king's eyes crinkled with amusement.  "Kyle, I am reminded of a similar
bargain just this last eve.  When you offered to wed Lady Mellisande to save
Eleanor."

Eleanor shoved
her hands on her hips, her glower deepening.  "Are you mad?  Do you think
I would have been joyous living the rest of my intolerable days knowing you
lived with that she-devil, worrying that she might poison you or put vipers in
your bed?"

One corner of his
pursed mouth lowered in an angry twitch.  "'Tis not the same at
all."  Kyle leaned down and pushed his face close to hers.  "At least
the vipers wouldn't have had two hairy legs and been sweating out their lust
over your delectable body!"

Eleanor met him,
nose to nose, and scowled her disgust.  "The least you could have asked in
exchange for my decadent bondage was food for the winter.  The village is
burned.  Trystonwood has naught left to eat.  And you ask for a bridge?  You
sell my soul for a bridge?"

"Kyle, you
must admit, 'tis another grand idea of your servant's.  You should have asked
for food.  I see no hope for it.  I must give you Hanley Hall."

Kyle straightened
like a post.  "Hanley Hall?  But I don't want Hanley Hall.  Any land but
his."

Edward shrugged. 
"According to Eleanor, 'tis where your food is stored."

Even from her
side view of Kyle's face she saw that he sneered and narrowed his eyes. 
"Ah, 'tis true that.  Another grand suggestion of Eleanor's.  Take care,
Edward, or she'll end up on your board of advisers.  One at a time, of course." 
He looked down at her, one brow cocked.  "Or mayhaps I underestimate your
talents."

"You brutish
weevil!"  She swung her fist at his face, then gasped as pain shot through
her knuckles.

Kyle stiffened. 
"Curse, Eleanor, you hit my nose."  He rubbed at his injury. 
"Does this mean that when I'm in London I shall have to wait my turn to
bed you?"

"You oaf!  I
will not go with King Edward.  I will claim sanctuary in the convent." 
She spun and sloshed toward the rose-tinted gate.

"'Tis just
like a female to throw out such a rash promise before considering the
consequences."

"Well!  If
that isn't the fire complaining about the heat!"  She whirled to face him,
hands on hips, then stumbled backward when he bumped into her.  She tilted her
head back and challenged his fury.  "You began this farce with the wager,
all because you didn't want an empty bed.  You think yourself clever in your
indignation, but someday, Lord Kyle, you will miss me."

"Aye.  For
as long as it takes sweet-tempered Beth to leap among my sheets, which will be
. . . how long before you leave, King Edward?"

Pain swelled like
a boulder within her chest.  She turned her back on Kyle, on Trystonwood, on
what should have been glorious but had turned nightmarish, and stomped toward
the bridge.

"Where go
you, wench?"

"I'm so
anxious to begin plying my new trade that I go in search of customers.  There
are many lonely knights who camp beyond the wall."

"Ah, do you
now?  Well, I have need of you one last time.  Then before King Edward carts
you away, I'll give you one of my wondrous kisses for you to ponder while
you're occupied with others less skilled at love-making than I." 

"Burn in
hell, Kyle."

She heard the
increased pace of his squishy footsteps.  Eleanor bolted toward the bridge, but
before she had slogged two steps, he ensnared her against his body as rock-hard
as his head, then caressed her ear with his hot breath. 

"True, I'll
burn, wench, and before I'm sated, so will you, as when we rode as one upon
Valiant." 

Heat fired
through her body.  She dare not stay near him or her icy ire would thaw beneath
his hot reminders.  She shoved from his hold and stepped backward from
temptation.

"Mayhaps I
will burn, my lord, but know this before I do.  The pain of Brigham's fire was
naught in comparison to your searing rejection." 

Kyle winced.

She scooped
fistfuls of mud for weapons in case he dare try to accost her.

"Eleanor--"

He reached for
her, but she lifted her hands in warning and matched each of his advances with
a retreat.

"Nay, don't
touch me, Sirrah.  I wish that all memory of you be obliterated, but 'tis irony
that when you took my innocence you also gave me innocence, one that grows in
the form of a babe.  So take comfort, Lord Wounded Pride, that you will always
be with me in our separation, for one vow I made to King Edward I will joyously
keep--I'll leave and never return."

In the distant
part of her mind, she heard John call "King Edward.  King Edward." 
But she knew not whether he called the king or the dog, nor did she care.  She
could no longer bear being in Kyle's presence, knowing his pride came before
their happiness.  She took another step back . . . then tripped!

A yelp sounded in
time with her scream.  She flailed her arms.  Kyle lunged and grasped her
wrist, stopping her fall.  He took a step to catch his balance, then became
entangled with the pup and plummeted to a facedown splat. 

"That cursed
dog."  Kyle's voice sounded muffled, then he spat mud and wiped his mouth.

Eleanor laughed
as she shook the muck from her hands.  "An appropriate position for a
snake.  Too bad you had the pit sealed, for you could join the other
sna--" 

Quick as a viper
he flipped to his back and grasped her leg. 

"Kyle, don't
you dare--"

She jolted atop
him, then he rolled her beneath him, squishing her into the chilly muck,
layering her between the muddy bailey and his muddy body. 

Heaven help her. 
Kyle loomed above her, the most handsome of mud-blotched faces against a
red-streaked morn.  Warm wetness formed in her womanhood.  Had her body no
loyalty?  Had she no pride?  Nay, she would not allow him to witness her
lascivious reaction.  She wriggled to move from under him, but only succeeded
in inflaming his lust, for his manhood hardened in warning, his eyes simmering
with obstinate passion.

He rubbed his
muddied cheek against hers, then brushed his lips on her eyelid, the tip of her
nose.  Then gifted her mouth.  Her moan blended with his, then he crushed his
lips against hers as if starved.  She tasted ale, spice, mud.  Magnificent.

She should
protest, fight, scream.  Instead, she threaded her miry fingers through his
hair, loving him and hating him within the same heartbeat.

"Speaking of
unkept vows, Eleanor, I promised I'd take you in the rain-washed bailey, and I
doubt 'twill ever be more wet than this."

"You dare
try such a crudity and I'll thrust a dagger into your chain mail heart." 
The huskiness in her voice betrayed her longing.

The most sensuous
of grins curved his mouth.  "'Tis you who will receive the thrust of
my
dagger, love."

"I'll tell
you where you can thrust your dagger, Kyle.  When you build that precious
bridge, make it arched and very small, then--"

The amused king
appeared in her vision and reminded her of Kyle's rejection.  Her anger surged
anew and she struggled to work out from under Kyle, furious that he seduced her
with such ease.

The king
chuckled.  "This mud makes all quite clear, Kyle.  Eleanor isn't afraid of
you, as was Lady Cathryn.  Now, as to a marriage . . ."

Eleanor dropped
her head back into the muck in defeat.

"I have a
cousin in York . . ." 

"No more
talk of marriage!"  Kyle shoved to a stand, dripping with ooze.  He
plucked her from the bog and imprisoned her against his side.

"Ah,
well."  King Edward shook his head.  "You're most likely right about
that female cousin.  Me thinks she died from old age.  'Tis a bother that game
of chess wasn't finished, for then I'd be spared all these decisions.  Don't
fret, Kyle.  Mayhaps I'll think of someone before I leave."

"Satan's
curse!"  Kyle dragged Eleanor toward the keep, her feet aslip at every
step.  "Hurry, woman, before he unearths some old crone long dead." 
His gaze scanned to her toes.  "Speaking of unearthed."  He swept her
up in his arms and carried her into the great hall.

"Kyle, put
me down!"  She kicked her feet and squirmed to break his hold.

"Be still,
Eleanor.  You're slippery and might slide through my hands."

He stormed past
Jerrod who leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a glint of humor in his eyes.