Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (29 page)

“He knows what kind of woman I
married,” he murmured.  “The most wonderful woman in England.”

She wrapped her arms around him,
holding him tightly as he progressed from kissing to fondling her.  He hadn’t
made love to her since before her injury and she suddenly very much wanted to
feel him against her, inside of her. In the past ten days, the man had become
her entire world. Her lips found his earlobe.

“Take me,” she whispered.

She shook his head. “Nay,
sweetheart, as much as I would love to, I have duties to attend to right now.”

“Duties can wait. ‘Tis been too
long, Stephen. Take me now.”

He shook his head again and
lifted his lips from the swell of her bosom. The cornflower blue eyes were
glazed with passion as he gazed at her.

“You are still ill,” he insisted
gently, cupping her face. “I do not want to tax you. You must get well before
we can….”

She put her hands on his head,
pulling him down to her. “I am fine,” she murmured as her lips brushed his.
“Please, Stephen. Do not deny me.”

He knew he should not but his
willpower was not strong enough.  When she plunged her little pink tongue into
his mouth, he was lost; her surcoat came off beneath his gentle, eager hands
and his mouth latched on to a tender nipple.  Joselyn groaned softly as his
lips moved over her breasts, her torso, his touch gentler and more reverent
than she had ever known it to be.  When he finally impaled her on his great
phallus, she wrapped her body around him and moved with him, feeling his great
strength around her and in her. His touch said a million words his lips
couldn’t seem to and she whispered in his ear as he thrust into her, telling
him of her love for him.   Her softly purring voice only heightened his fervor.

He released himself deep into her
body, feeling her slick walls pull at him.  Well after their passion climaxed,
Stephen continued to hold her tightly, embedded in her sweet body, his chin on
the top of her head. He didn’t think it was possible to love something as much
as he loved her; he couldn’t remember when his life did not revolve around the
woman. 

“Now,” he shifted slightly so he
could look at her, burrowed warm and deep in his arms. “After all this, you
must promise me no more argument. You will stay here and rest while I attend
Kenneth.”

She lifted her face up to his,
kissing him. “I promise, I will stay here.”

He pecked her on the nose, the
lips, before reluctantly releasing her and going in search of his clothing. 
Joselyn sat up, the coverlet clutched to her naked breast as she watched
Stephen dress.  She was sorry when he pulled his breeches over his tight
buttocks; she rather liked watching his naked behind.  In fact, there was much
about Stephen’s naked body that she liked, unusual for a woman who had viewed
men with such fear and loathing before her marriage. Stephen had changed a
great many things about her. He had changed
her
.

She was still daydreaming about
him when he finished dressing and turned to her.  He fiddled with the mail
around his upper arm, watching his wife as she smiled up at him.  He finished
with the mail and returned her smile.

“You may see to the evening meal
if you feel up to it,” he told her. “But that is the extent of it. No walking
around, no over-exerting yourself. Swear it.”

She nodded obediently. “I swear.”

“Good.” He winked at her. “I will
see you later.”

“I love you, husband.”

He paused, his hand on the door
latch, his cornflower blue eyes lingering on her. “I love you, too.”

He winked again and was gone. 
When the door was shut, she got out of bed to lock it. She thought briefly
about dressing and going to the kitchens, but the evening meal was hours away
and she did not want to be viewed as disobeying Stephen’s command.  But there
was something more on her mind with the appearance of Kenneth; she knew he was
here to help Stephen in dealing with the rebellious Scots.  She had tried and
failed. Now Kenneth was here and, at some point, would undoubtedly visit Kynan.
Joselyn wondered if a word from her to her cousin would convince the man to
tell Kenneth and Stephen what they wanted to know. Perhaps Kynan would feel
sorry that Joselyn had been injured by the very people he was trying so hard to
protect.  She wondered if she should not make one last attempt to aid her
husband. She simply couldn’t let it go entirely.

She had to try one more time.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kynan was shocked to see Joselyn
gazing at him in the dim light. He almost hadn’t seen her in the darkness,
through the big iron grates that kept him caged like an animal. The last he had
heard, she was gravely injured. Perhaps even dying. But the woman standing on
the other side of the iron bars appeared beautiful and healthy.  For a moment,
he thought he might be dreaming. 

But Joselyn smiled at him and he
knew it was no dream. Kynan was chained on the leg by a big, heavy, rusty cuff
that had cut into his leg and caused a raging infection.  He struggled to his
feet, making his way towards the bars as far as he could before the chain
stopped him.  He reached out just as she did, their fingertips brushing.

“Jo-Jo,” he breathed. “Are ye
well, lass? The big
Sassenach
told me ye had been wounded.”

Joselyn was on borrowed time. She
had tried to bribe the guards to let her in, promising them sweet cakes in
exchange for a few moments with her cousin. But that hadn’t worked so she
became angry with them and told them that she would tell her husband that they
had tried to molest her if they didn’t let her in, which had drawn the desired
reaction.  The threat of Pembury’s wrath held weight. So they had followed her
into the vault to make sure that she did not come to any harm in addition to
ensuring that she would not somehow try to free the prisoners. They lingered
back, keeping track of the time and watching every move she made, so she kept
her voice lowered.

“I am much better,” she
whispered. “It is true, I was injured. But my husband healed me.”

Kynan drank in the sight of her,
angered at the helplessness he was feeling. “What happened?” he demanded
softly. “How did ye end up in the line of fire?”

She didn’t want to tell him the
truth, that she had used the information she had coerced from him to help her
husband. She didn’t want him to know she had betrayed his confidence. 

“It does not matter,” she replied
softly. “All that matters is that I am well and Stephen healed me. Ky, you must
help me, please.”

“How?” he raised his voice and
she shushed him. “I’m trapped. I canna do anything for ye, lass, and ye know
it.”

As he grew agitated, she grew
desperate. Her expression was beseeching. “Ky, listen to me,” she whispered. “I
do not have much time, so you must know this; my husband is a good man.  I lied
to you when I told you that the English killed my mother.  You know she had
been mad for some time. She had thrown herself into the fire and they
mercifully ended her life before she burned to death.  I could tell you so many
wonderful things they have done for me but I do not have the time. All I can
tell you is that I lied to you.  My husband has not been terrible to me; in
fact, he is the most wonderful man I have ever met.”

Kynan stared at her as if she had
gone mad. “The big brute?”

“Aye.”

His eyes narrowed. “Have ye lost
yer mind, lass?”

Joselyn smiled as she shook her
head. “Not at all,” she replied. “With everything that has happened to me… my
husband has overlooked all of it and he loves me deeply. He is kind,
compassionate and brave and I love him with all my heart.  I want to help him
and protect him. Will you please help me do that?”

Kynan’s brow furrowed as if he
did not understand her words. “Help ye?” he rattled his chains. “I am the one
who needs help, Jo-Jo.”

Joselyn was frustrated that he was
not getting her message. “If you help me, I will convince my husband to release
you,” she made a promise she was not sure she could keep, but she had to gain
his cooperation. “I need your help; I need you to tell me what you know about
the Scots. What are they planning, Ky? Are they preparing to attack Berwick
again?”

He studied her a moment,
eventually backing off the grate as his manner cooled.  He could see that
somehow, someway, her English husband had bewitched her.  She was more loyal to
him than she was to her own people, or at least she believed she was.  Her
young mind was confused.

“I wouldna know what me men are
planning,” he said after a moment. “I have been locked away in the bowels of
this place. If me men are planning an attack, I’m not a part of it.”

Whatever warmth they had
experienced when she came into the cell was evaporating; Joselyn could feel it.
Mistrust hung over him like cloud.

“Ky, please,” she gripped the
iron bars, her pale blue eyes boring into him. “He is the only man who has ever
been kind to me and I love him. Can you not understand? I do not care about
Scots or English loyalties. This is not about politics or kings or war. I only
care about my husband and I will do anything to keep him safe.”

“Including betray your kin?”

“My kin tried to kill me,” she
fired back. “I have the scar on my back to prove it. Why would you protect
these people?”

Kynan backed away from the grate,
his eyes riveted to her.  He was unsure, confused, exhausted by his
tribulations and baffled by his cousin’s love for her English captor. The
knight had professed the same feelings, so with Joselyn’s confirmation, he was
coming to understand that they shared something very special.  Still, her shift
of loyalties was unsettling. He couldn’t be glad for her new-found happiness
just yet.

Joselyn watched him move away
from her, back to the shadows that had become his home. She watched him with
eyes of sadness, of agony, wishing he could understand what she was attempting
to accomplish. But he did not understand; all he knew was that Stephen was the
enemy.  He probably thought she was the enemy, too.  The thought infuriated
her.

“If you will not help my husband,
then I will say this and speak of it no more,” she hissed, fighting off tears.
“If something happens to Stephen because of you and your foolish rebels, I
swear to God that I will never forgive you. And I will hate you for the rest of
my life.”

Kynan simply hung his head.
Joselyn walked from the vault in tears.

***

The evening meal at Berwick
Castle that evening was an extravaganza of culinary delight.  After her
encounter with Kynan, Joselyn had retreated to the kitchens to prepare her
masterpieces.  The stores had been somewhat replenished and she had a variety
of ingredients to work with, and work with it she did; she had fowl prepared a
variety of ways and with sauces such as plum and currant.  There were also
several egg dishes; eggs beaten and mixed with milk, cheese and herbs, then
baked. There were tons of nuts and cheeses, with great loaves of bread baked
with a variety of herbs and other ingredients incorporated into them.  But most
of all, there were pickled lemons shipped all the way from London, a most
impressive and expensive addition. Every time Joselyn ate one, her lips
puckered up and her eyes watered terribly so she was not too fond of them. And,
of course, she made sweet cakes for her husband with loads of honey and
walnuts.

Stephen and Kenneth arrived late
to the meal and looking somewhat subdued. But Stephen had a smile and a kiss
for his wife as he took a seat on the bench, delving into the roast chicken in
front of him. Kenneth followed suit and between the two of them, they ate
almost half of what was on the table.  Stephen would not share the sweet cakes
with Kenneth until the man threatened to fight him.  Begrudgingly, he shared
his treats.

The hall was warm and fragrant
with smells of food and the sounds of soft laughter. In addition to Stephen,
Kenneth and Joselyn, several senior soldiers and knights were also in
attendance, including Lane de Norville and Sir Alan.  They were all most complimentary
of the meal and Joselyn blushed prettily as the perfect hostess.   Stuffed and
ill with too many sweets, Stephen could not have been prouder.  She was sweet,
polite and good at conversation but when she brought about the subject of
helping Kenneth find a wife again, Kenneth indelicately changed the subject by
asking if there were more sweet cakes in the kitchens.  No, there weren’t, but
she had something just as wonderful.  Joselyn leapt up and disappeared from the
hall.

Wine in hand, Stephen watched her
go, returning his attention to Kenneth only when Joselyn left his sight.  He
noticed that ice-blue eyes were appraising him.  Stephen lifted his eyebrows at
the man.

“Why do you look at me so?” he
demanded.

Kenneth stared at him a moment
before grunting and lifting his wine to his lips. “You know why.”

Stephen’s good humor faded. “You
are not going to start that again, are you?”