Carolyne Cathey (45 page)

"Is the
rumor true?  Is the world truly round instead of flat?  Aye, the world
is
round, like a ball, and when it turns, it for certain spins through water of
some kind, for you get muddier with each passing."

Kyle didn't even
bother to stop.  "Nonsense, Jerrod, or we'd all fall off."

"Even so, I
know 'tis the third time I've seen you carry her through here in such a way. 
Once when she first arrived in the mist.  Then another after she escaped from
you into the storm after the infamous chess game.  And now this. And you both
appear more wet and muddy each time.  I wonder how you'll look the next time
you trek this path thus burdened?  Perhaps 'tis a reversal of creation and you
return to clay." 

Kyle halted. 
"Hmmm." 

He turned toward
John who carried a bucket in each hand, most likely bathwater for the
bothersome King Edward.  The four-legged one. 

"John, bring
those over here and douse Eleanor."

Eleanor stiffened
in Kyle's arms.  "Don't you dare, John.  I saved your life.  And you'll
muddy my clean floor."

The lad looked
stricken as if in a battle of decision.

Kyle gave her a
look of compassion.  "The floor is already a mess, Eleanor.  'Tis covered
with blood and vomit and other things unmentionable."

She scanned the
hall past Lucinda and Rupert and the other laughing witnesses to her
humiliation.  True.  All that work.  However, another would have to see the
thing cleaned, the only slice of goodness she could find in the entire
disaster.

Kyle lowered her
to her feet.  "John, if you douse the water, I'll make certain Rupert will
let you keep the pup."

"Aye,
milord!"

"Bested by a
dog?"  She slid down the scale of importance in a rapid descent.

Water sheeted
over her body and she gasped for breath as Kyle rubbed his hands over her face
and hair.  "Another, John, and then another.  Hold still, Eleanor, before
I strip you here in front of all's curious eyes.  You might as well accustom
yourself to public displays of nudity."

She opened her
mouth to protest, and choked on a stream of water as an inebriated cheer abused
her ears.  The hall sounded like a drunken melee.

"Now douse
me, John.  But hurry, I don't want Eleanor to leave with King Edward before I'm
finished with her.  Here, assist me with my gambeson and mail."

Seeing a chance
to escape, she leapt for the door, but King Edward grasped her arm.  "Does
she know not her place, Kyle?"

Eleanor groaned. 
He had phrased the worst of all questions.  Her gaze jerked to Kyle's.

He grinned as he
stripped off his mail shirt.  "Aye, she knows her place."  Kyle slid
off his leggings until he stood in wet braies, bare of foot and chest. 
"And 'tis not in the hall."

Kyle swept her
dripping body into his arms and carried her toward the dais.  "I warn you
all; I wish not to be disturbed."

Laughter and
cheers resounded in proof she had no supporters.  Of course, they didn't know
he merely used her for one last time and then would toss her out like
yesterday's garbage.

"Men!" 
King Edward's voice reverberated in the rafters. "Mount up.  We ride to
grander quarters, but we'll detour to the Avon for a brisk cleansing, then
return for Eleanor, our new camp follower.  Not the Queen, of course.  If I could
but think of a cousin . . ." 

Kyle muttered and
bolted around the end of the screen.

"Lord
Kyle!"  She tried to whisper her exasperation as he hastened through the
solar like a man who escaped an execution.  "I'm quite serious.  I won't
go to your chamber."

Kyle ran up the
steps, quite a feat since he still had her in his arms.  She noticed fresh
rushes on the floor in the chamber as if the recent atrocity had only been a
nightmare.

He carried her
past the now-empty hearth and stood her beside the lit brazier.  Then his gaze
met hers and she saw . . . tears filled his eyes!  Her heart turned over.

"Eleanor, if
you dare to make such a rash promise again, I will throttle your enticing
neck."

Then he proceeded
to undress her, but she stood like a stump, stunned by his shift of mood.

"You're most
hazardous on clothes, Eleanor."  He halted and stared with distress at her
gown all rumpled within his strong fists.  "I'm sorry, love.  Your gift is
ruined.  'Tis . . ." He swallowed.  "Tis burned at the hem.  But the
broach is..."  He tossed the gown onto the rushes and enfolded her in a
desperate embrace.  "Thank God you're alive!"

Her tears
welled.  Dear heaven.  How could she win under such a tender assault?  Kyle
cleared his throat as if to dislodge an emotional clog and ran his hot hands up
and down her chilled arms, inflaming a fire in her loins that could never be
doused.

"You ruin
all your gowns, love.  There is no hope for it.  I'll have to keep you naked
beneath me in my bed."

Desire flashed
like lightning through her veins, swift and hot.  Before she could bolster her
wavering indignation, Kyle knelt and placed his ear upon her abdomen. 

"This is
where sleeps our babe, Eleanor. 
'Tis a miracle."

Her breath
hitched.  She glanced down at his wet, tousled hair.  An ache burst inside her,
defying her anger.  How could she not touch his golden strands?  She lifted her
hand, hesitant, then she ran her fingers through his damp locks.

Kyle stilled. 
"Ah, love."  He pushed to his feet, his breath in ragged pants. 
"Before I force you against your will, you must distract this randy
he-goat." 

He swept her into
his arms, then atop the bed, pulling the corners of the fur cover around her
nakedness.

"After these
last hellish hours, 'Eleanor, tis incredible I have you here, stripped, amongst
the soft fur."

Dizzy with the
headiness of it all, she pushed to a sit, the spread clutched about her
deceitful frame.

He dropped his
braies then stood before her in his bare magnificence.  Her willpower wilted
like a mountain pansy under a hot sun.

He advanced to
beside the bed.  "At last, love, a chance to do what I've ached to do for
the longest age."

She lost all hope
as her mind became useless porridge.  Needing the feel of him in her arms she
reached out.  

Kyle handed her
the chessboard. 

"Hurry,
love.  Help me set up the pieces."  The bed complained as he positioned
himself to the opposite side of the board.  He drew the spread around his waist
then plucked the board from her grip and clacked the players into position.

"Chess?" 
Dazed, incredulous, she watched him place the men.  "For the longest age
you've ached to play a game of chess?"  Would she never learn?

"Well, I
could suggest another type of amusement where we wager for articles of
clothing, but I fear 'tis too late for that game."

"Lord Kyle. 
I don't wish to play chess."

Hope glimmered in
his eyes.  "You wish to lie beneath me?  Now?  'Tis acceptable."

"Nay,
Kyle!"

"Then what? 
To go to London with Edward?"

"Nay!"

"I fear
that's your choice.  London, or chess?"

"Kyle . . ." 
 Eleanor clenched her jaw, her mind in a battle between confusion and insult. 
He had wasted his only chance to ask for her hand.  And most likely after he
amused himself with this ridiculous game, he would expect her to submit as his
leman even though he knew her feelings on the matter.  And even more ludicrous,
the notion tempted.

Remember the
bridge, you fool
. 

Eleanor
stiffened.  Nay, she would not submit.  Perhaps when he busied himself in the
garderobe, she could escape into the woods with the fur cover, disguised as an
over-large fox.  But for now . . .

She rolled her
eyes in surrender.  "Chess."

"Excellent
decision.  But I propose a wager."

"Curse you,
Kyle.  That stupid wager is what started this disaster."

"If I win,
you'll become my leman.  If you win, you'll become my wife."  He held out
his hand.  "'Tis a bargain?"

"Nay, Kyle! 
I won't."  She would throw off her covers and stomp about the room, but he
had stolen her clothes and she had just then begun to warm, except for her
wanton womanhood, which burned hot as sin.

He pursed his
mouth.  "In truth, we've already sealed the bargain.  'Tis the game that
remains unfinished.  Your turn, love."

Eleanor stared,
mouth agape.

"You have
white, so you have first move."  He gazed upon her, the image of anxious
innocence.

Surely her senses
had been swept away with the storm, drowned in the mud of the bailey, washed
amongst the rushes of the great hall.  She could only seem to sit in befuddled
amazement as if somehow she had missed out on the rules in the game of life, a
bystander, while the rest of the world sped by with wisdom and purpose.

"Eleanor? 
Well, since you are as the pawn, I'll place your piece upon this square."

"A
pawn?"

"I only
repeat your own words, love.  Do you not remember?  And I am the knight, so
I'll play thus."  He rested his forearms on his fur-covered knees as he
sat cross-legged on the bed.  "Now, 'tis your turn again."

Well, blast him
to hell.  She slammed down another pawn.

Horror distorted
his face.  "Nay!  'Tis the wrong play.  Have you forgotten?  You play the
King's bishop."  He replaced her man with another piece, then made his
move.

"What?  You
tell me what play to make?"

"Only if I
must."

The porridge of
her mind drained a bit, allowing a hint of a thought.

"Pay
attention, Eleanor.  Concentrate.  'Tis your turn again."

She examined his
earnest expression.  Kyle studied the movement of her hands as if whatever she
did claimed the most import to his life.

Eleanor perused
the board again, rethinking the pieces already played.  The ivory stood as
before. 
He remembered
.  Did he hope she would best him?  Her gaze
fastened on Kyle as he watched her hand like a falcon watched a mouse.  She
moved her queen's pawn.

He smiled as if
delighted.  He didn't even look up; he just moved his rook, then hunched
forward, in wait.

Eleanor swallowed
at the odd lump that had formed in her throat.  She would test her theory. 
After all, she had made several errors of judgment that had only furthered her
humiliation.  In a struggle to quell her quaver, she moved toward a different
man than she had played the first game.

Kyle thrust out
his hand.  "Nay!  'Tis the wrong choice."  He met her stunned gaze,
the most frantic of expressions on his face.

He wanted her to
win!  He wanted her to be his lady!  Her heart throbbed with a tingly pain like
a numbed limb that stung when used again.  With slow purpose, she moved her
King's knight.

Kyle's shoulders
sagged as with relief.

Eleanor covered
her mouth with her shaky fingers.  She dare not cry, but her eyes blurred
anyway.  "Lord Kyle, I don't understand.  When the king asked for your
fondest desire, why didn't you . . ."   She couldn't finish her selfish
thought.

He stiffened as
if affronted.  "Do you think me dense?  Soft in the head?"

She wondered if
she should feel insulted again.  Uncertainty stilled her tongue.

He lowered his
head and made his move.

"I think
'tis I who am dense, Kyle.  Why didn't you ask the king for his
permission?"

Kyle tilted his
head, mouth open.  "And risk that he say nay?"

Almost without
thought, Eleanor shifted her next piece.  "But he hinted with much
strength that he would give you what you wanted."

His pawn clacked
upon the board.  "Aha.  So you thought.  But I've known him much longer
than you.  He's like shifting sands, or firesmoke, or a hazy dream, something
too dangerous to count upon as solid.  I told him I didn't want Hanley Hall. 
Hah.  'Tis mine."

"Oh." 
Her tongue didn't seem able to manage more.  Then another question pricked her
curiosity.  "Why do you not want Hanley Hall?  You spoke of memories.  But
the village is burned, and you have no quarters here for guests."

"Because,
love, the more favors he provides, the more indebted I become, the more control
he claims.  Do you not see?  'Tis a greed trap."  He stroked his hand
across the fur, rippling the strands.  Then he lifted his gaze, and she saw the
desperation in his soul.

"When I knew
not whether we would live or die, I vowed I would never relinquish power over
the only decision that matters to me, not even to the king.  Now, hurry, love. 
Make your play before my hair turns white and my teeth fall out."

"But, Lord
Kyle, do you dare do so without his permission?  The other night he made quite
clear his thoughts on the matter."  Eleanor shuddered with frightening
memories, then shifted her queen's knight.

Kyle gave her a
look as if she had questioned his courage.  "Of course I dare."  Then
he frowned.  "Do you?" 

She saw fear and
doubt within the blue depths of his eyes.  Eleanor smiled.  "So little
faith.  Of course I dare."

A loud sigh of
relief relaxed his chest.  "I knew from the first moment I saw you upon
the misted village green that you belonged to me.  'Tis your dream come to
pass.  'Twas meant from above--an awesome realization."  His expression
shifted from contemplation to contrivance.  "Now, listen, Eleanor.  I've
thought this out.  The world is a large place.  I could apprentice in a town in
France, or Italy.  I don't know as what, but I'll think of something."

"Kyle! 
You're a knight!"

"Aye, but if
I left, I'd be landless, and would have to travel wherever I'd be paid.  Nay. 
I want to be with you and our child.  If all is well, we'll stay.  If King
Edward threatens repercussions, then we'll slip across the Channel."