Forbidden Magic (5 page)

A rush of cold, damp wind ushered her into the room, drawing all eyes and several curses to be quick in shutting out the tempest. She hurriedly obliged, using her entire body to accomplish the feat as the heavy barrier nearly proved too much. Praying the inhabitants would resume their interests and pay her no further notice, she stayed pressed against the wooden portal a while longer, gathering her composure and letting the warmth of the place chase away some of her chili. The smells of roasting meats seemed to jump out at her and without realizing it, she slowly turned her head to find the source of such delicious aromas.

In the center of the large room, a fire pit blazed its yellow flames, its smoke curling upward to cloud heavily against the high ceiling. A spit was positioned over it with three capons and a small pig hanging from it, turned ever so slowly by a young girl who eyed Jewel intently. Discovering the maiden's attention, Jewel quickly looked away, wondering where the keeper of the inn might be. She carried no silver marks to pay her way, but she hoped once she explained her dilemma he would be understanding and allow her a room and bath. Once her companions, knights of the dowager queen, arrived, they, would see him rewarded for his kindness and all would benefit.

Jewel's gaze briefly took in the lot gathered around long trestle tables or seated in high-backed chairs near the fire, and her apprehension deepened when she discovered that no other women graced the dwelling but the girl. Yet with the rowdy noise of the inhabitants, she relaxed a bit, believing their wine more important to them than she and feeling certain that if she moved quietly and acquired a room in haste for privacy, her safety would be guaranteed. However, in her efforts to execute her plans, she failed to notice a pair of green eyes studying her with more than passing interest.

"Your pardon, good sir," Jewel spoke softly to the round-bellied man who had entered from an adjoining room. "Wouldst thou be the keeper?"

Dull blue eyes set deeply in his head looked her up and down. "Yea. What business do you wish to bargain?"

"None, sir, only beg your compassion for a traveler who has lost her way and finds herself without escort or means to pay." She gestured toward the shuttered windows and raging storm howling between the cracks. "I became separated from them when my mare bolted from the thunder. They will come for me soon—"

"Who, m'lady?" the innkeeper asked, one white brow raised dubiously. "Knights of the realm?"

A smile turned the corners of her mouth upward for an instant until she saw the sarcastic gleam in his eye and knew he had not believed her. "If it were possible that I could, I would pay twice what you ask for privacy and food and drink to ease my discomfort," she whispered, her head bowed, "but all I can offer is my word."

His laughter pierced her courage. "Had I all that others promised before you, 1 would have no need to serve those traveling this road: I would live in a castle and have others serve me." His mirth vanished instantly as he glared down at her. "Now begone with your lies. I have work and paying travelers to tend."

He stalked away, leaving Jewel to stand alone, the embarrassment she felt darkening the color of her face. Certain everyone had heard, she refused to lift her eyes and look at them, yet from the hearty guffaws and boisterous exchange of words, she realized few if any could have witnessed her humiliation. The smell of roasting pig and the warmth of the fire slowly drew her attention and she watched the flames with yearning until a chill shook her. She straightened, wondering how many stared, and she sent a fleeting glance about the room. None seemed interested, yet Jewel sensed someone studied her. Untying the ribbons of her mantle, she covertly looked upon the crowd one by one. Although they numbered nearly a score, she wished for more, enough to hide herself among them and allow a moment to dry her clothes and chase away the cold dampness that rattled her teeth. Nearest her sat three men sharing horns of ale and tales of their travels. Several more encircled one long table, eating hungrily of the breads and meats spread out before them, too lost in their feasting to pay her notice. Cautiously, she slid the heavy mantle from her shoulders and reached for the strings of her wimple, unaware of the satisfied appraisal she received from one corner of the room.

"You stare, my friend," one of the two knights said with a grin, lifting his horn of ale to his lips.

A half smile curled the other's mouth. "Yea. A long time has passed since my eyes have seen such beauty."

"Beauty?" the first chuckled, nearly strangling on his drink. "Dost thou actually see beauty beneath the mud? Or doth your lust cloud your vision?"

His friend shrugged. "Mayhap."

The first casually settled his attention on Jewel as she pulled the headgear away and long, coppery curls spilled from beneath the cloth. He straightened abruptly in the high-backed chair, his chin sagging. "Yea, my friend, you have wisdom beyond your means! The damsel is quite beautiful."

The other laughed and picked up his own horn. "Careful, Gunther, or word of your unfaithfulness will reach your wife's ears.

"Tis not unfaithful to feast one's eyes," he argued. "And you have little room to preach. You are the same as wed."

Green eyes darkened with the reminder. "Even if the vows are spoken, I will belong to no woman. None will ever claim my heart."

"Ah, of course," Gunther chided. "Have not we all spoken such words? True knights to King Richard, country and cause above all else, while in the darkened corner of our mind we think of only one—a woman."

The other nodded. "Yea, I will not disagree. But with each new day, I think of a new woman as well. Tis as long as one can hold my thoughts or my attention. I have little use for their suffocating ways."

"Methinks there will come a time when you will laugh at what you've said this day." Gunther did not flinch when his companion glowered at him, but continued on more strongly. "Wouldst thou like to know this young maiden's name before tumbling her in bed, or will you do as you have done before? What easier way to forget her if you do not know how she is called?"

"Enough, my friend, before you push me to the limit."

"Ah, then let us find out," Gunther tested further, raising a hand to summon the innkeeper. "A wager says this damsel will come to mind in morning light, and for many to come. How say you? Doth your assuredness stand strong enough to challenge me?"

"Whether I acquire the knowledge of her name or not, I do not think her image will burn again in my thoughts except in recalling if she equaled those before her"—he turned away and muttered into the ale'-raised to his lips—"or those after."

Gunther studied the young maiden who had inched her way closer to the fire. The damp gunna clung to her feminine curves, revealing the body of a woman full grown, though her youth shone clearly in her face. Her auburn hair, catching the light of the blaze, seemed to be set aflame. Of all the women his friend had bedded, none could compare, and Gunther's conviction deepened that this would be the one to infect his companion's mind. Eagerly, Gunther waved the innkeeper closer so only the two could hear his words.

"Dost thou know the young damsel?" he asked, nodding toward Jewel.

"Nay, m'lord. She claims to have lost her way, and thought to trick me out of food and drink."

"Is she alone?"

"'Twould seem so since I know all within my place this night."

Gunther reached into the small pouch tied to his kirtle and handed the innkeeper a coin. 'Tell her you have had a change of mind and will give her credit. This should more than pay for a room. And a bath," he added firmly, looking at Jewel once more. "She is not to know the room was paid for, and once it is done, tell me where she can be found."'

Stuffing the coin in a pocket of his tunic, the innkeeper grinned knowingly. "Yea, m'lord. It will be done." He bowed, then hurried away to complete his task.

"You waste your money, my friend," the other's deep voice proclaimed.

"Mayhap." Gunther shrugged, settling back in his chair to sip his ale and watch the innkeeper approach the comely wench. "We shall see."

The dampness of her gunna lessened as Jewel sat before the fire, her eyes affixed to the flames as if the simple gesture would make her disappear from interested eyes. Yet all the while she sensed every move of the inhabitants within the room, a space which seemed to grow smaller with each beat of her heart, and she closed her eyes in prayer, summoning what courage she possessed to see her through until the dowager queen's knights came to rescue her. A loud crack of thunder rattled the shutters, and she jumped with a start, unsure which posed more threat, the storm howling outside or the room full of uncaring men. Her stomach rumbled its hunger, her mouth watered with the delicious smells of roasting meats, and she hugged her arms tightly to her to stop the gnawing ache as her memories became clouded with visions of home.

Oh, Father, her troubled mind called out, how could I find myself thus? Twas an honor to serve Her Majesty, but did I not forewarn you of some misfortune should I be without your protection? Doth seem it befalls me no matter where I find myself—at home, in London, or on the road between. And had I the courage, I wouldst demand the respect so granted a lady-in-waiting. But I cannot. I am a coward, Father. She opened her eyes to look at the flames. And I am so afraid.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, unaware of the man who had approached and stood beside her.

"M'lady?"

Resting on her knees on the rush-covered floor, Jewel started at the voice so near and quickly scrambled to her feet. "Your . . . your forgiveness, sir," she said weakly, bowing her head. "I but thought to warm myself. I did not think you would mind if I took but a small spot to do so. I shall leave." Awkwardly, she began to pull her mantle over her shoulders.

"Nay, m'lady," the innkeeper beckoned. "Take your rest, for I have had a change of heart and know your need. Sometimes my hardened ways forbid me to see the distress of others and I thank God I did so now." Hands clasped before him and resting on his protrusive belly, he smiled down at her, managing to hide his disapproval of the soiled and tattered clothes she wore. "In truth, I have ordered a room and bath made ready for you and will send my daughter to fetch you as soon as your escort;arrives."

Tears of joy filled the corners of Jewel's eyes as she smiled up happily at the man. "Thank you, kind sir. Your generosity will be greatly rewarded."

He did not answer but dropped his arms and bowed, holding out a directive hand toward the stairway that led to the second floor. Without a moment's delay, Jewel moved away from the fire and started toward the steps, too caught up in her thoughts of a warm bath to notice those piercing green eyes that watched her every move.

T
he sounds of laughter and merrymaking in the room below faded from Jewel's thoughts as she sank deeper into the steaming water of the rose-scented bath. The crackling of the fire in the hearth soothed her nerves and she closed her eyes to drift into pleasant memories of home and the joy she would experience at seeing her family again. Although only four weeks had passed since she had waved farewell to them, she was certain William had grown an inch as he seemed to do quite steadily. Lord Alcot loved his son and though, if challenged, he might deny it openly, Jewel knew he cared more deeply for the boy than for his three daughters. It truly never bothered Jewel, for she thought it was as it should be. After all, someday William would become a knight for King Richard and rule Harcourt Castle. Jewel's only aspirations were to bear fine grandsons for her father to dote over and fulfill the old man's dream of uniting his lands with those of his beloved friend. Lord Ryland, through the marriage of their children.

Resting her head on the edge of the wooden tub, her long, coppery curls draped over it, she opened her eyes and stared into the flames of the fireplace: Its yellow glow reminded her of her younger sisters and she thought again of how they had been blessed with fairness and beauty. Each had golden hair the color of the sun, with blue eyes to match the heavens. Any man would be a fool not to play for their attention once they grew to womanhood. The corners of her mouth turned downward. Had her father not betrothed her to Sir Amery before her birth, she doubted her time to wed would have come so soon. Although others had told her so, Jewel did not consider herself pretty, not like Gwynne, who stood tall and slim. Gwynne did not have to hide a full bosom or round hips as Jewel had had to do. Gwynne's garments hung smoothly from her shoulders with only a slight curve visible now and then. But Jewel fought to conceal the firm mounds of her breasts and added layers of cloth to her much-too-slender waist. And her hips! The dimple showed in her cheek when she crimped one corner of her mouth. She had seen the flat profiles of other young women. Why must hers be more full? It accentuated the narrowness of her waist!

And why dwell on it? she scolded silently. I cannot change what God has made. Perhaps He had a reason. The smoothness of her brow wrinkled. But what? she asked herself. Angrily, she began scrubbing the knee, that was peeking out from the surface of the bubbles. To remind you that you are nothing more than His servant, a voice within her continued. Vanity is for the wicked and you have greater goals than passing idle hours wishing for something so unimportant.

She concentrated on washing away the evidence of her fateful journey until her thoughts began to wander again and Radolf's handsome face came to mind, with its dark brown hair shaded the color of fire and amber-hued eyes similar to her own. No one could deny that he presented a striking profile and turned many a damsel's head, but Jewel had always found his presence a threat rather than a pleasure. He never tried to hide his affection for her and although her father claimed it to be out of friendship, Jewel wondered if he really suspected. She dreaded the thought of seeing Radolf again but could only pray Amery's return would cool Radolf's advances and remind him that Jewel belonged to another. And now that their king was in danger, perhaps Radolf would join his half brother in his quest to free Richard. Yet no matter what Radolf decided to do, Jewel realized that sooner or later he and Amery would have words and she would be the cause.

The bath water having grown tepid, Jewel hurriedly washed her hair, rinsed it as best she could, then squeezed the moisture from it and stepped out of the tub. The cool air against her naked flesh sent a shiver up her spine and she quickly wrapped herself in the large piece of linen the innkeeper had been gracious enough to supply. Crossing to the hearth, she stood before the fire rubbing her arms and enjoying the warmth it gave, until her gaze caught sight of her soiled gunna, chemise, and hose lying in a heap where she had dropped them. She had draped the fox-lined mantle over a chair to dry when she had first entered the room and, deciding it would be more pleasant to clothe herself in clean garments rather than mud-stained ones, she scooped up the offensive items and returned to the edge of the tub. Tucking one end of the linen wrap in its folds across her bosom, she knelt down and submerged first the ivory-colored hose, then the chemise, and finally the gunna, wondering if any of the garments would ever again resemble their original state. Pleased with the results once she had wrung out each piece, she stood and returned to the hearth, pulling up a second chair on which to hang her things.

Satisfied with her work, she rearranged the fur pelt on the floor before the fireplace and sat down cross-legged to finish drying her hair. It felt wonderful to be clean and warm again and even the howling wind outside the window did not seem to bother her overmuch. Freeing one corner of the linen wrap, she began to blot her hair with it as a soft smile deepened her dimple.

If Dawn could see me now, she thought with a slight shake of her head. Had she been here in my stead, she would have demanded more suitable lodgings than these. Jewel sighed. But Dawn would have not fallen from her horse. She is more practiced with an animal than I.

A noise in the corridor outside her room caught Jewel's attention and she looked up at the door. The din in the great hall below had not lessened and she strained to hear the sound again. But when it did not come, she shrugged off its significance as simply someone else's seeking a place to rest further down the passageway. She returned to the task of wiping the moisture from her thick mane. Leaning forward, she flipped the heavy mass of curls over her head to dry the underside, her slender fingers ruffling the many layers, then bolted upright when she heard the door of her room open. Auburn locks fell in wild disarray about her face and shoulders and her pale brown eyes were wide with alarm as she frantically pushed stray tendrils from her brow and clutched the linen wrap beneath her chin. A knot of panic lodged in her throat, for standing haloed in the framework of the entryway as bold as any man, a stranger calmly stared back at her.

Jewel could not find the words to speak but only stared, certain this too must be a vision of her nightmare. Yet the size and strength he radiated loomed out vividly to claim him true. He stood feet apart, one arm at his side, the helm he carried nestled in the crook of the other, gauntlets clutched in his fist, and Jewel knew him to be a knight to King Richard by the raiment he wore. Chausses covered his feet and muscular calves, and disappeared from view beneath the hauberk he wore. Pushed back from his head, the coif, a hood made of similar tiny chain mail, lay in folds against his neck. From one hip hung a sword, a weapon Jewel doubted she could lift with both hands. Although her years numbered seven and ten, she had yet to see a man of greater build, one whose mere presence demanded respect, and she trembled from worry for the reason he found himself here. Willing her body to move, she awkwardly reached out for her mantle and pulled it from the chair, hastily covering herself with it. She remained crouched on the fur pelt before the hearth, afraid her knees would not hold her if she stood.

"I... I fear, good sir, an error has been made," she said weakly, looking at his face for the first time.

Green eyes shadowed by tawny brows seemed to pierce her through. Light brown hair streaked golden by the sun framed a strong face, square jaw, and cleft chin. A scar gleamed white against the bronze complexion of his cheek and the thin, straight nose drew her attention to a full, almost sensuous, mouth, now unsmiling and set in a hard line. She had deemed Radolf handsome, but in comparison to this knight, he fell to second place. Had she seen this man at court dressed in full armor and mounted on a mighty charger, she doubted she could have kept herself from staring open mouthed, form all of England, no other man could claim such perfection both in face and stature. But this small space was not the royal palace and Jewel did not hide among the crowd. They were alone and she unclothed, and Jewel sensed he had no intention of leaving at her command. The frantic beating of her heart pounded in her ears.

"If thou wouldst summon the keeper," she began, her words barely more than a whisper, "he would set the matter straight. 'Twas he who showed me to this place and would gladly show you yours." A puzzled frown crimped the fine arch of her brow as one corner of the knight's mouth lifted with his smile.

"Tis no error, for in fact 'twas he who brought me to this door."

The meaning of his words chilled her more than the deep richness of his voice. "But, sir ...," she breathed, pausing to place her thoughts in context, "allow me a moment then to dress and be gone. If the keeper meant this chamber to be your haven for the eve, I will seek mine elsewhere."

"No need," he replied, stepping further into the room, one broad hand catching the edge of the door and swinging the portal shut behind him. The resulting dull thud tensed every muscle in Jewel's body.

"Then the keeper has made a misjudgment, sir. I am not a... a ..."

"Whore?" he finished, setting his helm and gauntlets on a nearby table. Turning back to face her, be stood at ease, one knee bent, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Then pray tell me, where is your escort and chaperon?"

Jewel opened her mouth to speak but realized the tale would sound false without evidence. She swallowed the sob that threatened to escape her and challenged him with a question of her own. "If, in truth, I was a .. . whore, then why have you sought me out? If I am as you assume, wouldst I not be the one playing for your attention in the hall below?"

He considered her a moment, then nodded slightly. "Yea, 'tis the custom of most, those who openly seek a coin for their affection. The rest, like you, play the innocent and hide behind titles."

"The rest? Do you group us all as one?" she asked, appalled by his insinuation.

Again he nodded as he reached for the belt of his sword and freed it from around his waist. '"Twas only one woman in my life who marked the exception. I doubt there will ever be another."

"Who are you?" Jewel demanded, his questioning her good name bringing her to her feet.

The perfect whiteness of his smile greeted her as he laid the sword with his other garments. "One more among many to come and those past. My name is unimportant, only that you please me." He reached for the coif and pulled it from his head.

"Get out!" Jewel shouted, anger rarely seen now surfacing to set a fire in her eyes.

He paused, studying the flushed face glaring at him, then tossed aside the coif as he said, "Not until money well spent is rewarded."

"Money? What money? I have not received any."

Green eyes briefly scanned the interior of the room. "Mayhap not in coin, but you do enjoy its comfort."

A startled gasp caught in her throat. "'Twas you who paid for this?"

He shrugged. "In a manner of speaking."

"But I thought...." Tears came to her eyes and she fought to hide them as she cursed her own stupidity for being so easily fooled by the innkeeper. It had been the plan all along, to trick her into coming here while he sold her off as some slave for the pleasure of any man who could pay the price. Wisdom may have fled before, but it returned twofold now and she became determined not to remain in this room a moment longer. Hurriedly gathering her damp gunna, chemise, and hose, she hugged them to her and set a brave look upon him. "Then you shall have the comfort this humble place offers and I shall seek out the stable for mine." She took a courageous step forward and stopped when the knight failed to move, blocking the way. "I shall see you are repaid the cost of the bath once my escort arrives if that be your worry," she guaranteed with a lift of her tiny chin, then retreated when laughter rumbled deeply in his wide chest.

"You play the game better than most, little one," he declared with an approving nod. "But methinks you carry it too far. Didst thou hope for more than a bath and a warm place to sleep?" Huge hands unfastened the catch of his hauberk and began to remove it.

"I... I do not have need for any more except the privacy I had before," she replied, her fearful eyes watching as he continued to disrobe. "Please, sir, a grave error has been made and you will be held responsible if you do not desist from your intentions."

Stepping forward, he laid the hauberk over the chair that had only moments before held Jewel's mantle. "And who will sit in judgment? An angry father, perhaps?" he scoffed.

"Nay, sir, my betrothed," she answered firmly.

The knight chuckled loudly. "Do you truly expect me to believe your betrothed would allow you to travel the road unchaperoned? Name him, if you can, that I may call him fool."

Jewel's anger overrode her fear of the knight and stole her voice. She opened and shut her mouth repeatedly, grasping for the proper words to hail upon him.

"Doth his name escape you? Or in fact not exist?" he challenged, green eyes consuming her.

"Yea, there is such!" she stormed defensively. "Sir Amery of Wellington and knight to King Richard." Her temper faded quickly with the startled look he gave her, and worry formed again when the expression changed to something akin to rage. Had this knight a special hatred of Amery that the mere mention of him sparked the flame anew? Suddenly Jewel wondered at the wisdom of revealing the identity of her betrothed. Mayhap this warrior would use her to seek his revenge against Amery in more horrible ways than she had imagined this first meeting would produce. The muscles across her chest tightened. Amery had more important matters to attend than rescue her from a vengeful enemy. She clutched her garments closer to her and stepped back.

"Sir Amery of Wellington, you say?" he hissed, nostrils flared. "A knight who rides at his king's side? A Crusader? A man whose name is whispered by all of England? What a wise choice, my sweet. There isn't a serf or nobleman in the kingdom who does not know of him. But few can claim to know his betrothed by sight, only name. You could lie and state you are she, and I could not deny the fact. Is that how you are called? Lady Jewel of Harcourt?"

She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and wondered if it shined clearly for him to see. She had, set a trap about her, one from which neither course would free her. If she spoke the truth, it could mean her death and probably Amery's, yet to deny it would surely bring about a fate more horrible, a living hell that would follow her to her grave and forbid eternal rest. She would live the life of a scorned woman, and, worse yet, Amery would have just cause to turn away from her. "Well?"