Marriage Under Siege (33 page)

She quickly matched the
rise and fall of his powerful body with innate skill until her body seemed to
her to be fused in complete and intimate harmony with his. Only to shatter
again as she realised that his control was not limitless and that he could be
as helpless as she under the onslaught of physical desire, as with ragged
breathing and straining tendons he surged powerfully against her. Tears stung
her eyelids at the magnificence of it.

'Francis. Francis.' She
lifted her body to him in total and graceful acceptance to meet his final
thrust.

And her name was on his
lips.

Later, when their breathing
had settled and the flush of intense arousal had faded, he looked down at her,
suddenly conscious and not a little fearful that his feelings for her were
indeed fast escaping from his control. And without doubt his body insisted that
he already wanted her again.

'Can you take me again,
lady?' He awaited her answer, brushing his lips featherlight along the slope of
her shoulder.

Oh, yes. Honoria wanted all
those sensations to ripple through her again, so that she was no longer
answerable to the fears in her mind, merely to the exquisite demands and
responses of her body under his guidance. She stretched languorously and moved
her hips against him. An innocent gesture, he thought, at the delicious contact
of her skin, but wanton and inviting none the less. Or perhaps not so innocent,
Mansell realised, as he caught the golden gleam in her eyes, the secretive
smile of sheer pleasure. It heated his blood to a boiling fever.

Honoria reached up to press
her lips in tiny kisses against his jaw, then scraped lightly, provocatively,
with her teeth, suddenly aware of her own power to excite and arouse her
dominant lord, to reduce him to physical and passionate need. Now she knew that
to trail her fingers along the ridged muscle of his abdomen would cause his
muscles to flinch and tighten, his skin to shiver as did hers. Now that she
knew it, she would use that power to drive him as he had driven her.

'Oh, yes, my lord.'

He sucked in his breath on
a groan as she did indeed allow her fingers to brush tantalisingly down his
chest to the taut muscles of his belly. Where in heaven's name had she learnt
that? His loins clenched in anticipation.

And she laughed against his
throat as she proved the power of her own body over his. 'Oh, yes. I can take
you again. For you are indeed my lord.'

Somewhere, the frightened
virgin who had clung to him and wept in an agony of humiliation and
self-disgust had vanished. The transformation astonished him. 'And you are
undoubtedly my lady. You are mine, Honoria, mine for all time—and yet your
power over me is beyond my imagining.' Teeth clenched, he clung for a moment
longer to the remnants of his self-control. 'You do not yet know the half of
it.'

And then he was lost in the
searing heat of it—and knew that he loved her.

Chapter Thirteen

Henry
Lingen's
letter, in which he offered to parley, contained nothing new. If Mansell
refused to surrender, there could be no guarantee of the safety of the
inhabitants of the castle when it finally fell. There would be no quarter given
and they might all be put to the sword. The intimidation was accepted within
the castle with equanimity and a shrug of the shoulders, and since surrender
was out of the question, the siege continued. Days stretched into the next
week. And the next. Word filtered through that Sir Thomas Fairfax might march
to Gloucester, to join with Waller in securing the west for Parliament, but it
was impossible now to filter established truth from mere rumour.

But it soon became more
than clear to everyone, both within and without the walls, that the castle of
Brampton Percy could not hold out much longer. The water supply was safe, and
would remain so, but food was short. The final cow and sheep had been
slaughtered, along with the chickens, and it had become too dangerous to risk a
night sally to plunder the neighbourhood. Not that there was much to steal
anyway, the Royalists having lived off the land for the duration of the siege.
Firewood was an issue as the trees in the park had long since been cut down and
burnt. And the culverin continued their ceaseless battering of the walls. Few
rooms were habitable and one section of the defensive walls was showing critical
signs of stress. It was possible, Captain Davies reported, to push his fist
into the cracks on the eastern boundary where it was far too hazardous to lean
on the parapet. If anyone so much as sneezed below the eastern tower it would
collapse and bury them alive.

The inhabitants, without
exception, were pale and hollow-eyed, testimony to lack of sleep, inadequate
food and constant fear.

When Francis called Honoria
into the estate room, she knew his intent. They sat opposite each other, the
table width between them.

'We have come to the end.'
His face was tired, she thought, and there was a resignation, a fleeting
sadness that she had not seen before. The lines that bracketed his mouth were
deeply engraved. She swallowed against the wave of love and compassion that
threatened to overwhelm her self-control, demanding that she voice her concerns
for him. Instead, she firmed her lips and tried to concentrate on his stark
words. 'I can no longer guarantee the safety of the people of this castle.'

'I know.' She stretched her
hand across the table to touch his in wordless comfort, a fingertip caress. He
took the opportunity to capture her hand, to link his fingers with hers and
lift them to his lips.

'It is time, my lady, that
you left.'

'No.' Abruptly she pulled
her hand away. She had not expected this. Not after everything they had been
through. 'I will not—'

'Listen to me—'

'No.' She was on her feet,
moving round the table to stand before him as if her nearness would force him
to change his mind. 'I will not leave you here. We will see this through
together now, no matter what the outcome.'

'No.' He captured her hands
again, touched beyond belief at her unity with him, and his voice was very
gentle. 'I need to know that you are safe, lady. I need to know that you are
alive and will not be called upon to suffer for any action that I might have to
take. And...' he stood, pulling her against him, arms around her waist in a
light embrace '...I need you to take on your own responsibility to our
tenants.'

He knew it was a weighty
argument, deliberately intended that it should be, and waited, watching her
face as she thought it through.

'Well, then!' She
bared
her teeth a little in recognition of his tactics, but
could not gainsay him. 'What do you wish?'

'You must go to Ludlow...'

'Escape through the postern
at night?' A little laugh, without humour, shivered through her.

'No. I will negotiate with
Lingen for your release.' His hand stroked her hair, pushing an errant curl
back from her brow. 'He will not refuse. Take Mary, Mistress Morgan, Dr Wright
and Mistress Dorothy. Master Foxton, if he will go. And any of the tenants of
Brampton Percy who wish to accompany you. It will be an easy journey and a safe
one. Go to Ludlow and wait for me there.'

'But what will you do?' Her
fingers dug into his arms in alarm.

'Stay here as long as
possible. And then get out with the best terms when resistance becomes
untenable.'

'What do you hope for? What
will they accept?'

'The tenants to return to
their homes in the village—although what state they will be in I know not. And
free passage for myself, and Priam. I will send Josh to Ludlow with you if I
can, as added protection. I expect Lingen might consider our freedom if he can
take possession of the castle without bloodshed—and the other Brampton
property in the county, of course. My inheritance from Edward in Herefordshire
has not been of long standing, has it? Of short but tempestuous duration.'

'But what if they take you
prisoner?'

'Let us meet that if it
happens.'

'Very well.' She took a
moment to consider the implication, frowning as he watched emotions chase each
other across her face. 'I do not like it. But I will do it.'

'Tomorrow, then.'

On a nod she pushed herself
free of his loosened grip and took a step towards the door.

'Where are you going?'
Something had spurred her into action, he noted with amusement.

'I am going to liberate our
silver from the well. I will take it to Ludlow. I refuse to let it fall into
the hands of Coningsby and his like.'

He laughed, the harsh lines
lifting for a moment. It was not a sound that she had heard often of late. 'I
like your priorities.'

As she was about to lift
the latch his words stopped her. They were forthright, certainly unexpected,
perhaps spoken with a little difficulty for a naturally reserved man, and they
bought colour racing to her cheeks. 'I don't want you to leave either, Honoria.
I would do anything to keep you here. I shall miss you more than I would ever
have imagined. My only consolation is that you will be safe. And I pray to God
that we shall be reunited.'

Quietly, she awaited his
approach. And stepped into his arms when he reached for her. It was the nearest
he had ever come to declaring what was in his mind, his heart. But of that she
was still unsure.
Tell him,
a little voice
whispered in her mind.
Tell him that you love him, more than life
itself
But she dared not. True, the worst of their wounds had
been healed and the reconciliation was sweet. He might indeed value her
presence—in fact, she had no doubt that he did. He might find her an acceptable
wife after all. But love was a dangerous battlefield on which to take a stand,
certainly if she was alone with an ally who could only support her through
honour and duty. And what good would it do to tell him now of her love? It
would merely add to his burdens.

But she let her fingers
push through the waves of his hair, to clench there in gentle possession,
allowing her lips to warm and soften as he bent his head to claim them. And
when the heat flashed, when his mouth explored and possessed with devastating
thoroughness, she responded with equal heat. She might not speak openly of
love, but she could not leave him, allowing him to think that she was unmoved
by his touch and his caresses.

The small group who would
travel with Lady Mansell to Ludlow gathered early in the courtyard, taking the
horses remaining to them and two supply wagons. A very small group of women and
children, apart from Dr Wright. Henry Lingen, sensing victory at last, had been
magnanimous in agreeing to their departure, but had been equally adamant in
refusing permission for Sir Joshua to give his protection. Women and children
were one thing. Fighting men were not to be considered for such a show of
mercy.

Farewells had already been
made and now there was nothing to prevent their leaving as soon as dawn
lightened the sky. Few words were said; indeed, few were necessary between
Mansell and his lady as he stood at her horse's withers, looking up into her
face. She forced her lips into a smile, determined to preserve a calm and
confident exterior for the sake of her tenants who were in fear for their
lives. Even so, in spite of those around her, she could not remain unemotionally
cool and dignified, but bent to him to press her lips to first one cheek, then
the other, finally touching her cold hand softly to his unsmiling mouth. As if,
when all else had gone, she would remember its outline and texture through her
fingertips.

'God keep you, Francis.'

'And you, little one.' He
kissed her hands, and then her palms, before handing over her gloves and reins
and stepping back. But his eyes remained centred on hers, a fierce glow in
their depths, until she urged her mount forward to take her place at the head
of the group.

It gave the appearance of
an innocuous little party, certainly of no threat to the Royalist forces in the
west. Fortunately no attempt was made by the besieging troop to search the two
wagons on which the dozen or so children and women were perched. In one nestled
the silver, rescued from its watery hiding place. And the glass from Wigmore,
miraculously still safe in its
packings
. From
Brampton Percy, there was no glass left to consider transporting anywhere. In
the other wagon, there were as many documents relevant to the estate and family
as could be packed into the restricted space. They, too, must not be allowed to
fall into enemy hands. In the future, as Mansell stated, silencing any argument
when Honoria had commented sharply on the weight and number of them, it might
be necessary to prove ownership through wills and deeds of tenure. He might be
forced to leave Brampton Percy now, but it was not a situation that he
intended to accept indefinitely.

The portcullis lifted. The
gates opened. Henry Lingen had promised safe passage, but nerves were showing.
The women rode in silence, motionless in their seats, the children too, picking
up the tension from their elders. Morrighan and Setanta ran close to the hooves
of Honoria's horse.

The Royalist force was
drawn up in smart ranks, Lingen and his officers to the fore. Honoria did not
know what to expect, but she rode out at the head of her convoy, proud and
upright in the saddle, head held high with all the dignity of her position as
Lady of Brampton Percy. She was being driven from her home, her rightful home,
by sheer force of arms. She had done her best to withstand it, both alone and
with her husband, and would not cringe or cower in fear before the victors. A
fleeting memory of the crude comments shouted at her by her neighbours, so many
weeks ago now, brushed across her mind, but she would not be intimidated, no
matter what the reception from these soldiers. If they wished to crow and
jeer, embarrass her with lewd comment, she would still retain her composure and
dignity as Lady Mansell, whatever the frightened girl within might suffer.

She waited as the cavalcade
drew up close behind her and then turned to take the road east towards Ludlow.
She looked up once to the battered parapet of the gatehouse, aware of his
presence, as she gathered up her reins.

Mansell. Her lord. Her
love.

He was stern and unsmiling,
his face a little thin, his dark hair ruffled in the breeze. His clothes bore
testimony to the continuous wear and tear of a long siege. He held her father's
sword drawn in his hand. Any emotion was ruthlessly hidden, any expression
other than determined resistance firmly governed. Honoria thought that perhaps
he, too, was not immune to their parting, remembering the searing heat of his
mouth on her palm and the slightest tremor in his lingers when they had
encircled her wrist, but there was no sign of it in this formal leave-taking.
She locked the bright image away in her mind, concentrating on every detail of
his beloved face and figure, refusing to consider the possibility that she might
never see him again. If she allowed herself to do so, she would bend her head
and weep, and that was not acceptable. He raised his sword in a formal, ceremonial
salute of respect and farewell, the light glinting off its honed edges. She
bowed her head and raised her hand in recognition. It was a warmth in her
heart, heating her cold blood, underlying the desperate bitterness of
separation.

Turning away from Brampton
Percy, she cast an eye over the enemy lines. It struck her, gradually, that
they stood unmoving under the low grey clouds, almost as if called to
attention. Only the flutter of pennants and banners in the breeze caught the
eye. No chatter or coarse language. And then it began. First the merest rustle,
it spread through the ranks, row after row. They began to clap. The applause
grew until it seemed to encompass the small group of travellers within its
hollow sound, echoing from the castle walls behind them. And only then Honoria
realised that her own people, standing on the battlement walk to witness their
departure, had joined in.

Honoria's face flushed.
This show of honour, of deference from the Royalist forces, she would never
have expected. Emotion clogged her throat. She felt tears begin to threaten
after all, but refused to allow them to fall. If they considered her brave,
worthy of such esteem, then she would not prove them wrong. She braced her
shoulders and inclined her head towards Henry Lingen in recognition of the
magnificent gesture, kicking her horse on into an active walk.