Forbidden Love (3 page)

With the realization that she had less to fear than she had thought came a resurgence of anger. It was all very well for this savage to announce she was a hostage. That didn't mean she would accept her captivity docilely. How dare he so upset her fife just when she was once again beginning to enjoy it? She longed to let the arrogant cur know what she thought of him and his plans. If only she were a man. . . .

Roanna's gold-flecked eyes sparked mutinously. Her back stiffened as she drew herself up to her full height, a rather wasted gesture since though she was taller than most women she came barely to Colin's shoulders. For just a moment, the broad sweep of his chest tapering to a taut waist, lean hips, and long, sinewy legs revealed by his short tunic made her forget what she meant to say.

Annoyed as much by her own weakness as by him, she sneered, "I should have known one of your kind would not dare to challenge my brother openly. How much better for you to hide behind a woman's skirts and try to get your way by treachery."

The deliberate insult wrung shocked gasps from the men-at-arms. Their lord was a proud man who did not take any slur to his honor lightly. Hardly breathing, they waited for his response.

Beneath his rugged tan, Colin paled in fury. He took a step forward before reminding himself that she was only a woman and he could not avenge the affront as he normally would. The blow he would have struck any man who so dared to anger him would have snapped Roanna's slender neck.

Unbidden he felt a spark of admiration for her courage. He had expected a Norman wench to be tearfully cowering. Instead he found himself confronted with a gloriously beautiful she-devil who stared at him scornfully and did not hesitate to speak her mind.

So struck was he by the extraordinary combination of loveliness and bravery that, had no one else been present, he might have been tempted to forgive her insolence. But half a dozen of his men had heard the insult He had no choice but to punish her immediately.

A flick of his hand was sufficient to summon two of the guards. Already regretting her hasty words, Roanna's throat tightened painfully as he said, "You appear determined to make things hard on yourself, my lady. So be it" Turning to the men, he ordered, "Take her to the confinement cell"

Hard hands grasped her arms, puffing Roanna in the direction of the door. She had only a glimpse of Colin's rigid expression, his eyes cold and his manner implacable, before she was yanked from the hall.

T
he cell was not as bad as Rqanna had feared. Set some little distance from the hall near the barracks of the men-at-arms, it was a small wooden hut sturdily constructed and entered only by an iron-studded door secured by a heavy bar. A tiny window, also barred, admitted some light along with the busy sounds of men and women at work in the bailey.

The walls were dry, their daub and wattle plaster keeping out any dampness. The floor was strewn with straw, which she inspected gingerly before determining that it was in fact clean. A blanket lay folded in one corner, but she ignored that for the moment After depositing her in the cell, the guards returned with a pitcher of water, men left for good after slamming the bolt into place behind them.

For a while Roanna paced the narrow space aimlessly. She was irritated with herself and uneasy at being confined. The long days of her illness through which she had been restricted to her room in her brother's keep had been bad enough. To such a vigorous girl, imprisonment in the tiny cell was almost intolerable.

Drawing a deep breath, she told herself she should be glad it was no worse. The cell that held Colin's cousin was not likely to be as comfortable. Guyon was a just and merciful man, but he was so angered by the poacher's intransigence that he would give no more thought to his well-being than was absolutely necessary. In all likelihood, the prisoner shared his lodgings with rats and various other vermin. Whereas here, no matter how acutely she listened, she could make out no presence but her own.

Toward dusk, her solitude was interrupted by an old woman escorted by the guards who brought her a bowl of stew and bread. The food was hot and smelled enticing. Roanna accepted it gratefully, though her smile was returned only by a grudging nod.

With her stomach filled, some of her anxiety eased. Settling back against a wall of the hut, she smoothed her clothes as best she could and combed through the worst tangles in her hair with her fingers. That done, her eyes began to close. It had, to put it mildly, been an eventful day. With her small store of strength long gone, she slipped easily into sleep.

For several hours the summer night remained balmy. But after the moon set, a chill wind blew up. A current of air pushing out of the northern lands that remained perpetually encased in ice mocked the time of year with its sudden, frigid blast. Roanna stirred restlessly. Without waking, she groped for the blanket and wrapped it around her.

As the temperature continued to drop, peasants in their huts woke grumbling to light fires. Animals in the forests burrowed deeper into their lairs. Such abrupt changes in the weather were not uncommon, but coming after so many weeks of blissful breezes and bright sunshine the sharp cold was a shock.

In the cell, Roanna was losing the struggle to keep warm. Her clothes were thin, and the blanket, which should have been more than sufficient, was instead proving inadequate. Lost in her dreams, she imagined herself back at the keep, ill with the fever that had so weakened her. Tossing on the straw, she wondered faintly why Brenna did not come to help.

In his own quarters, slightly apart from the great hall where most of his retainers lay, Colin slept fitfully. He had retired later than usual, after gently refusing the company of a comely serving girl who had shared bis bed several times before to their mutual enjoyment and who made it clear she would like to do so again.

Lying with his arms behind his head on the large bed carved from the trunk of an ancient oak tree, he had hoped to sleep deeply. But the memory of mocking amber eyes, honey-spun hair, and a slender, ripe body kept him from rest Cursing softly, he tried without success to put his enticing captive out of his mind. But when he finally did manage to sleep, thoughts of Roanna followed him into his dreams.

Deep in the night, he came abruptly awake. His hand reached automatically for the longsword lying beside the bed as he tried to determine what had disturbed him. Moments passed before he realized the cause.

It was cold. Inured to physical discomfort, Colin could not imagine why the sudden change of weather should bother him. Until he remembered the girl in the confinement cell.

A low curse broke from him. Springing from the bed, he crossed the room in rapid strides, pausing only long enough to pull on a runic. The thegns keeping guard on the palisade grinned at each other as they observed their lord's hasty progress. But their smiles vanished when they heard the angry oath he uttered upon thrusting open the barred door.

Roanna lay crumbled on the hard floor. Her legs were drawn up and her arms wrapped around herself in a futile effort to keep warm. At Colin's order, a guard came running with a torch. By its flickering light, he could see that her skin was ashen and her brow damp with perspiration. She moaned softly when he touched her but showed no awareness of his presence.

Dread stabbed through Colin. The prison he had meant to be no more than a brief, salutory lesson had turned into a deadly menace. Silently he castigated himself for being misled by the girl's brave spirit into thinking her less delicate than she must be. Remorse made him exceptionally tender as he lifted her slight weight and carried her swiftly from the cell.

The private quarters next to his own were kept cleaned and aired for honored guests. By the time he deposited Roanna in the center of the large, soft bed, serving women had scurried to light the braziers and bring fur throws. An old grandmother revered for her healing skills was summoned and set quickly to work brewing herbs to cast off fever and ease breathing.

Colin, who had considerable experience himself in helping die sick and wounded during war campaigns, had no illusions about the seriousness of Roanna's condition. His lean, skilled fingers found signs of swelling beneath her throat A hand placed below her left breast determined that her heart was beating unusually fast Since reaching the bower, her color had faded even more and her soft, ripe mouth was already cracked and dry.

Fighting down the foreboding that threatened to paralyze him, he moved swiftly. In any illness of this sort, time was of the essence. Without waiting for the servants who had hurried off to fetch more blankets and extra peat for the braziers, he stripped Roanna's sweat-soaked clothes from her.

The slender, perfectly proportioned body that was thus revealed to him shook even his determined detachment He had beheld many beautiful women over the years, but never one who so effortlessly moved him.

A wry smile softened his harsh expression as he considered that his heart was now beating at least as fast as Roanna's. His hands trembled slightly as he drew the covers over high, firm breasts whose velvety nipples beckoned his mouth, a tiny waist he was certain he could easily span, and gently rounded hips tapering into slender thighs separated by a cluster of golden curls.

Reminding himself sharply that the girl was ill because of his thoughtlessness, he tucked the furs firmly around her, blocking out all but her lovely face and the tumult of silken hair. When the old woman entered carrying a cup of broth, he was seated beside the bed with one of Roanna's small hands clasped in his.

"Try to get as much of this down her as you can, my lord. 'Tis the best I know for fever."

Nodding, Colin eased an arm around Roanna's shoulders and gently lifted her. With the woman's help, he managed to get a fair amount of the medicine into her. Their patient protested faintly, probably because with her swollen throat it was painful to swallow. But Colin persevered until the cup was empty.

Looking down at the small figure on the bed, the old woman tut-tutted softly. I've seen this sickness before. Strong men fall to it but for a girl. . ."

"She's going to recover," Colin insisted tightly. "Whatever it takes."

The old woman was not about to contradict her lord, but she privately thought the lass's chances were slim. Shaking her head, she left the chamber glad that the responsibility was not her own.

In the hours that followed, Colin was forced to consider that the old woman might be right Roanna's fever worsened steadily. She twisted violently on the bed, lost in her own distorted dreams. Several times he had to restrain her forcibly from tossing off the covers. There was some small satisfaction in the fact that she seemed to respond to his touch and the sound of his voice, but as the night lengthened and she showed no sign of improvement he realized desperate measures would have to be taken.

Near the main well behind the great hall there was a deep pit dug into the ground. At its bottom, wrapped in multiple layers of straw and burlap, lay slabs of ice preserved from the winter. Dispatching several strong men to pull one up, he set the serving women to scouring a large trough. When the ice was smashed into tiny chunks with hammers and picks, cool spring water was poured over it

Shutting the chamber door firmly behind the last of the wide-eyed servants, Colin lifted Roanna from the bed. He ignored her indistinct protest and determinedly lowered her into the bath.

Over and over he cupped water into his big hands
and ran it gently over her dry, heat-infested body.
Over and over he spoke to her reassuringly, telling her
she would get better, not to be frightened, to trust him
and let him do what was necessary.

Long after it had begun, he dared to hope his desperate effort was having some effect. Roanna lay quietly in his arms, her silken skin gleaming with diamond droplets, her eyes closed and her lips softly parted. Her breathing seemed easier and the muscular tension associated with fever had left her limbs. She rested languidly against him, her head cradled by his shoulder almost as though they had just made love.

With her skin now so cool from the bath, it was impossible for Colin to tell whether the fever was abating. Taking a chance that such was the case, he lifted her from the water and gently toweled her dry. Slipped back into the bed, she was covered snugly before he sat down beside her to continue his long vigil.

Too quickly, Colin realized that his treatment had worked but had brought with it another danger. Far from being too hot, Roanna was now shivering with cold. More blankets piled on top of her did no good. She continued to tremble uncontrollably.

Colin stared down at her hesitantly for a long moment before finally accepting what must be done. Stripping off his sandals and the tunic that had become wet from her bath, he slid into the bed beside Roanna. Her slim, petal-soft body fit perfectly against his lean hardness. With a pained sigh, he reconciled himself to an acutely uncomfortable night

Cradled against him, taking warmth from his body, Roanna at last slipped into restful sleep. Colin had to envy her blissful unawareness as he fought a relentless battle with his own desires. How easy it would be to take advantage of her helplessness. How tempted he was to stroke and caress and taste the feminine perfection next to him until all thought of honor vanished in the firestorm of need.

But the mere thought of taking a woman who could not share the pleasure disgusted him. Whatever his body might wish, his mind overruled it sharply. Comfort and protection he would give her, but nothing else.

Shortly before dawn, Colin managed at last to fall asleep. He lay on his back with Roanna's head nestled into his arms and one slim hand at rest over his taut abdomen. In sleep, their legs entwined and their bodies moved even closer, until they were knit together as intimately as sated lovers.

Roanna murmured contentedly, her breath teasing the burnished hairs of his chest She was dimly aware of an extraordinary sense of well-being. Not even when she was a child secure in her brother's love had she known such peace. Her eyelids fluttered as she smiled and snuggled even closer.

Turning slightly, her lips brushed a velvety hardness that seemed underlaid by iron. Puzzled, she moved her mouth again, chasing the sensation.

Deeply asleep but by no means impervious to such a caress, Colin moaned. He rolled over, his hand gently cupping her breast The delightful sensation that darted through her penetrated even the haze of Roanna's slumber. She woke with a jerk.

"W-what. . . who? .. . Oooh!"

"Mmmm," Colin muttered groggily. Softness engulfed him. He savored the sweet scent of perfumed skin, the delight of ripe curves and slender limbs, the provocative hardening of her nipple beneath his fingers. Instinctively, he drew her closer, his head unerringly finding the silken hollow between her breasts even as his eyes remained closed.

Roanna froze in shock.What was happening to her? How had she ended up naked in bed with her brash, arrogant English captor? Had he dishonored her? Horror at the thought that she might have been so taken advantage of stiffened every muscle in resistance. Even if the damage was already done, she was damned if she would let him take his pleasure of her again.

"Stop it! Don't you dare! You . . . you swine! Cur! Leavings of a worm! Let me go!"

Colin frowned. Something had gone wrong with his marvelous dream. The delicious bundle of feminity in his arms had turned into a clawing, snarling cat. He opened his eyes warily, only to be struck by the full impact of exactly where he was and what he was doing.

"What the hell? . .. Oh . . . Roanna .. ."

"Yes, Roanna! Your so-called hostage! Whom you're supposed to treat honorably! And instead you . . . you . . ." Words failed her. Hushing, painfully, she hid her face.

Beating down a treacherous desire to laugh with sheer relief at her recovered spirit Colin thoughtfully finished the sentence for her. "And instead I kept you warm."

"W-warm?. . ." Very reluctantly, Roanna looked up at him through thick, golden lashes. Surely she misunderstood? Her flush deepened as Colin climbed matter-of-factly out of bed. She refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away, although the sight of his unclothed maleness sent shock waves rippling through her.