Forbidden Magic (29 page)

"Yea, Gunther," he said aloud. "I shall keep her by my side day and night."

A
lone in her chambers, Jewel sat quietly by the hearth watching its flickering blaze and listening to the crackling sounds it made as the hungry flames lapped their orange tongues against the charred logs. She had always enjoyed the tranquillity of a fire, its warmth and peace, and took comfort in it now. Yet the solitude that encased her set her mind to recalling fond memories of home and her family. How she longed to have someone put his arms around her in a tender moment, assure her that in time all her sorrow would fade and she could smile again, that somewhere in this awful world happiness reigned and someday would find its way to her. How could her life have been turned so upside down ... her future become the color of a storm-darkened sky? What had been God's purpose in sparing her? Tears glistening in her eyes, she blinked, sending a single crystal droplet down her cheek, and she turned away from the fire. There was no meaning to her existence with her family gone, only pain and misery. There was no one left who would mourn her passing and she suddenly realized the unimportance of her being.

Firelight danced warmly across the floor and fell upon the threads, needles, and scissors Aselma had left behind earlier. She hadn't even the coin to purchase a gown or two. Everything she owned had been left behind at Harcourt. She was forced to depend on the kindness and generosity of others ... strangers ... and the thought renewed her tears. Of what use was she? Who cared if she lived or died? Amery certainly held no feelings for her. At best he would rejoice in his freedom if he were to come to the chamber and find her abed, her eyes closed in eternal sleep. Was that riot his plan? Yea, he would rejoice and she would have everlasting peace. Hie orange glow of the flames played upon the blades of the shears lying among the scraps of cloth on the floor, and, absently, Jewel rose and went to them, kneeling down as if in a dream. With steady hand, she lifted them from their resting place and stared serenely at the tool she cradled, a vague smile on her lips and a distant look in her eyes.

* * *

Amery had tried to concentrate on the conversation Gunther and his men had been having, but repeatedly his attention had been drawn to the slim figure sitting alone in a chair by the fire. From that moment when she had discovered his eyes upon her as he stood watching her and Had win, she had forced her own to remain on the task she performed and he had marveled at her discipline. Nearly an hour passed before she had laid aside her work and stood, not once glancing his way, and he had smiled to himself, wondering what thoughts raced through her mind. Lifting his chalice from the table, he had risen and slowly strolled to the hearth, watching the enticing sway of her skirts as she crossed the room and started up the stairs. He had stayed by the fireplace long after she had gone, studying the reds and golds of its flame, and discovered he could not chase away the vision of her even then as he thought of the auburn hair and soft velvet gown she wore.

What made her different from the rest? he had wondered. There were others nearly as beautiful and most assuredly more willing. Then what caused his mind to wander, to dwell on the softness of her curves and the sweet fragrance of her hair? He had shrugged impassively. 'Twas his passion he sought to ease... nothing more. Raising the cup to his lips, he had glanced out over the rim and spotted Had win sitting with his cousins, and his brows had drawn together immediately. Why had this young knight's attentions toward her spurred his ire? It had never mattered to him before if another played for the wench he had bedded. Why now? Irritated, he had thrown back his head and downed the remainder of his ale in one swallow, then concentrated on the fire once more. It was because the damsel sought to manipulate the youth for her own ends ... just as every woman he had known had done. They were not to be trusted. They would have their way if it meant cutting out a man's heart to do it . . . or setting his own father against him.

Feeling the effects of his drink, Amery had returned to the table and his companions, vaguely aware of the words they shared, for his gaze had fallen on the stone steps leading to the chambers above and Jewel. Only their uproarious laughter had intruded upon his thoughts enough to capture his attention and he had spent the last hour listening to their tales of war, long-lost loves, and learning of Gunther's undying devotion for his wife and children. He found it difficult to believe that a man could trust a woman so fully as Gunther trusted his wife. Nor could he imagine that she had remained faithful all the years they had been separated. With a shake of his head, he finished another sampling of ale and leaned forward to rest his elbows against the table's edge.

"Hadwin here hasn't even had his first wench," he heard Rickward declare with a laugh and looked up in time to seethe man give his cousin a rough slap on the back.

"Ahh, but 'tis not because he has not tried," Stafford broke in with a chuckle.,"Methinks his problem might be that most look at that fair face and see a boy staring hack."

"My face hath little to do with it," Hadwin argued calmly. "And since we do not share a chamber at night, how wouldst thou know what I do after you have found yours?"

"Ha-hah!" Rickward roared. "Then 'tis the darkness that gains thy entrance into their rooms, for surely a damsel would be tempted to pat thy head rather than spread her skirts."

"And I must agree with Hadwin," Gunther said. "I have seen the way Lady Jewel greets him. Tis not a child she sees." Lifting his tankard of ale to his lips, Gunther watched Amery from the corner of his eye. When it appeared that his repartee was having little affect on him, for Amery merely sat there, he turned and asked, "Dost thou not agree, Amery?"

Green eyes shadowed by tawny brows looked up at him. "Thou wouldst have to question Lady Jewel, my friend. I do not practice the art of reading minds." He glanced back at the chalice he held. "Though yours is simple enough."

Gunther straightened immediately. "Mine? What dost thou mean?

Without comment, Amery smiled back at Gunther, set his cup on the table, and stood. "Mayhap I should be the one to pose the question," he said, patting Gunther's shoulder before he strode away.

Amery did not have to look back at his friend as he climbed the stairs. He could almost feel Gunther's eyes upon him and suspected the surprised and somewhat leery expression covering his face. Until the moment when Gunther purposely sought to draw him into a conversation concerning possible suitors for Jewel, he had been too caught up in his own thoughts to recognize Gunther's ploy. Grinning to himself once he reached the top of the staircase, he thought how foolish the man had been, how much effort he had wasted, for since meeting Jewel-at the inn that night he had thought of little else. Of course their motives Were extremely different from each other's. Gunther obviously wanted him to reconsider the betrothal they had disavowed. Bat Jewel only lingered in his thoughts simply because he could not trust her. He was sure she would try to escape him and return to Radolf. The amusement faded from his eyes. Or was that truly the only reason he could not dismiss the vision of her supple body curled against his own?

He paused only a moment outside the chambers they shared, then lifted the latch and quietly swung open the door. His approving gaze fell immediately on the shapely figure standing before the fire, its glow reflected in the velvet gunna and highlighting the rich color of her hair. It took him a minute to realize what Jewel held in her hand and that the point of the shears was touching just below one breast, but once he had, an explosive fear bolted through him and he bounded forward in three long strides to knock the tool from her grasp. It rattled loudly when it hit the checkered tiles at her feet and seemed to bring Jewel out of the daze that enveloped her. Tears glistened in the amber eyes she lifted to look at him, a startled, frightened expression on the exquisite face, and suddenly Amery was filled with rage.

"Art thou mad?" he seethed, clutching her tiny wrist when she started to retreat a step.

"Please," she sobbed, withering with the pain he inflicted as he pulled her closer, "you hurt me."

"Hurt you?" he stormed. "'Tis a minor one to what you should receive. If I were of the kind, I would lay my fist against that lovely head of yours and restore the sanity you have lost. What purpose didst thou hope to achieve with so foolish an act?"

"I but seek to be free," she cried, trembling in his dark wrath.

"Free?" He laughed sardonically. "Thou choosest death over life? What could plague thee so greatly that thou wouldst take the coward's way? I grew to manhood in the shadow of my father and his favored friend, the lord of Harcourt, Alcot by name and father to thee. Of the two, your sire stood taller, stronger, and bravest of them both. Even in his death, he was not afraid, for I have been told he met his foe without the protection of his sword and still did not flee to the shadows but stood his ground. You dishonor him, wench, and vastly so, to prefer the easy path. Though 'tis not my want to marry, had I decided differently, 'twould only be the daughter of this lord I would consider." Angrily, he thrust her from him and Jewel tumbled to the floor. "But thy freedom will not be won merely by piercing a blade into your heart, Jewel," he continued, brows drawn together in a threatening scowl, "for even in your passing you will never find peace if you leave this earth without avenging thy father's death."

His declaration rang with truth and Jewel was suddenly filled with shame. She had not truly meant to end her life and wondered now what had possessed her. The satisfaction of seeing her father's murderer beheaded should have been her mainstay, given her the courage and determination to continue on. She had never thought of herself as weak but, in fact, strong willed once she set her mind on something. What had happened? What had caused her hand to lift the blade to her heart? As if pleading for an answer, she looked up at the man towering over her and knew the absurdity of her notion. She had sought to free herself from him. And now, by his own suggestion, he gave her the provocation to accomplish both, for proving him guilty of the slaughter would also win her freedom. A slow, calculating smile parted her lips as the firelight gleamed in her amber eyes, and, with new conviction, she proudly lifted her chin and glared back at him.

"Yea, m'lord," she said softly, "I yield to your logic, for had I spilled my blood, I would have been cheated of seeing you dance from a gibbet."

Amery's huge frame remained motionless as he watched her, drinking in the splendid beauty of the oval face, high cheekbones, and full, sensuous mouth lifted in a taunting smile. And when she moved to rise, unfolding the lithe form, his blood warmed in his veins. The hearth's glow shimmered in the smooth folds of the gunna caressing her shapely figure and, as his eyes lowered to trace the magnificent curves draped in velvet, he longed to press the supple body against him. Forcing himself to turn away lest he forget his reason in coming to this room and instead sample the riches he knew her capable of giving, he returned to the opened door and, touching a wide hand to it, swung it shut with a dull thud.

"Wouldst thou see another die without cause?" he asked quietly before settling his gaze upon her once more.

Jewel's fair brow wrinkled.

"I have seen the way young Hadwin watches you," he continued, leaning back against the door, his arms folded over his huge chest. "He is beguiled by your beauty and blind to common sense. Thou wouldst have but to smile at him and he would be bewitched. If you begged his aid, he would give it heedlessly. Thus, I lay his life in your hands. If he attempts to take you from Burchard and send you to your home, I will be forced to stop him any way I can. Thou art mine, Jewel, until I deem it otherwise."

Her face flushed with anger and her eyes flashing golden sparks, she drew herself up to meet the cold hardness of his warning. "Once before you threatened another because of me. You claim I am yours without my say in the matter, and I have held quiet out of fear. No more, sir knight. I will not hold my tongue. We recanted our vows to wed and thus left you without the right to decide my future. I am your prisoner, nothing more. So do not think to sway Sir Hadwin's affections for me with threats that I belong to you. He already suspects the truth, that I never belonged to you in my heart and now in name as well."

A lazy smile stretched across his mouth as he casually regarded her. "Mayhap I have no churn upon your heart, fair Jewel, nor offer you my vow in wedlock, but thou dost belong to me in another way ... one even you cannot deny."

"And what is that, my confident one?" she challenged.

Straightening, he dropped his hands to his sides and leisurely started toward her. "That by the simplest touch of my hand to your breast, your passion overrules your head. You are mine. Lady Jewel, and always shall be even after I have turned from you to find another."

Jewel's delicate chin dropped to heatedly rebuff his claim, but when his grin widened and he continued to advance, her anger turned to alarm and she fell quiet, clumsily retreating when he came too near.

"Shall I prove it to you?" he whispered, his great height dwarfing hers. "Shall I set your heart pounding, your lust burning to be sated? Shall I stroke the velvety flesh of your thigh, then feel your arms around me, urging me to take you?" He paused, waiting.

Unshed tears felt hot against her eyelids and Jewel fought to hide them. "If I said thee nay, wouldst thou take heed?"

Standing close to her now, he lifted his hand to gently cup her chin and stare into those captivatingly beautiful eyes. "Only if I wished it," he murmured, then slowly lowered his head.

Warm, moist lips pressed against her own, branding her to her very soul, and the desire to resist him quickly faded. Silently, she cursed the body that responded so wantonly, feeling her arms lift to circle his neck and pull him closer. She returned his kiss with equal ardor, letting the fire he sparked spread rapidly through every fiber of her being and melt away the icy barrier of caution. She longed to hate him, prove that his touch had no effect, and when his fingers moved to the catches of her gunna, something inside her snapped.

"Nay," she half sobbed, half screamed, tearing her mouth from his, her hands pushing at the hardness of his chest in a dismal attempt to be free. But Jewel knew she had waited too long in denying him when one hand trapped the back of her head and he crushed her to him once more as the other hand quickly worked loose the fastening of her garment. His mouth covered her desperate protests and she struggled with all the strength she possessed, only to feel the velvet cloth of her gunna slip from her shoulders and cascade to the floor at her feet. In the next instant, he lifted her in his powerful arms and agilely carried her to the bed kicking and hurling vengeful oaths upon his head, tiny fists pounding against the rock-hard muscles of his back and shoulders.

"Unhand me, knave," she hissed and saw him smile.

Fear bolted through her as she wondered if he might lay a huge fist against her skull, then spread the tale that she had tried to escape him and had left no other course for him to take. She went limp in his arms.

Surprised by her sudden change in temperament, Amery looked at her skeptically, one brow lifted, the smile lingering. "Dost thou think to trick me?" he asked with a grin.

Round, amber eyes stared back at him.

"Dost thou hope it will all be over sooner if you do not resist? 'Twould be more pleasant for you if you did not, but, either way, it matters little to me ... a fiery vixen or docile maid ... I enjoy them both." The smile disappeared from his lips though his passion glowed unmistakably in his eyes, and he frowned as if something pained him. "Thou art like a fever, little one, a disease that plagues me. You infect my blood and send it racing through my veins, and I curse the night I found you at the inn," he whispered angrily.