Siege Of the Heart (21 page)

Alex shook his head. “Enough of this for tonight.”

He surveyed the room. Many apprehensive faces had been replaced by smiling ones, faces both merry and increasingly flushed with drink. His gaze rested on Isabel, speaking with one of the guests across the room. As he watched her, he realized how tense and drawn she was. He felt his conscience snag and tried to ignore it. After a moment, she glanced up but quickly turned away as if embarrassed at being caught looking at him. He cursed to himself, knowing he was the cause of her discomfort.

He turned to Hugh and Jerome, and their smirking faces told him neither was ignorant of where his attention had wandered. “We should be celebrating along with everyone else,” Alex said with forced joviality.

They refilled their wine goblets and clinked their cups together in a mock-toast.

“To heaven,” Jerome said, grinning at Alex’s unease.

Alex gave him a sharp look. “To hell, more likely.”

* * * *

As the evening wore on, Isabel grew increasingly concerned at the prospect of dealing with more of Alexandre’s accusations. He had not taken his eyes off her all night. At least that was how it felt from across the room as she spoke with her father’s well-favored thanes and vassals and gave them assurances she did not believe.

Although she was exhausted, she refused to retire to her quarters. Not yet. It was still early. And she did not relish the idea of being found alone by Alexandre. He was probably all too eager to castigate her for her behavior…again. She tried to remind herself of the reasons why she felt her deception was necessary, but she forgot them all as she recalled his angry countenance.

The vassals and villagers had taken the news hard, but they clung to the opportunity to enjoy their time together now when there may not be another chance to do so in the future. Tonight, flagons of wine and barrels of ale flowed freely. Lute and fife filled the hall, and soon people joined in, clapping their hands and stepping in unison as they went through the dances. Everyone was so merry, it was hard for her to remain unaffected. She had even taken a turn around the room with Captain Thomas. Her happiness was bittersweet, though, as her thoughts lingered on her father and brother. And part of her wondered if some of Kendrick’s resentment and anger would have been soothed had he been willing to stay and enjoy the feast. She chased those thoughts away and refilled her wine cup as the musicians prepared for another song.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see servants and guests edging away. No one but Alexandre would be given such wide berth. She should have known she would not be able to escape him this night.

She turned around slowly, keenly aware of how many pairs of eyes were on them. She hoped the formal setting would prevent him from starting another argument, even as she prepared herself for more unpleasantness. When she was finally brave enough to meet his eyes, he surprised her. Gone was his earlier anger. All she could see in his face now was entreaty.

“My lady, would you give me the honor?”

Isabel could not, in courtesy, refuse. She nodded her assent. Alexandre set her cup aside and took her elbow, led her to a group of eager pairs.

The song started but Isabel did not hear it. All her attention was concentrated on her dance with Alexandre. At least he did not attempt to talk to her. Her mind already clouded with drink, she would have given away his effect on her through a stumbled reply. She feared there was not much doubt he already knew…

While dancing in circles, her body brushed up against his. She was entirely too aware of the intensity in his eyes and his hands, gentle on her as they went through the steps. Heat rioted through her. Her senses rang with warning as she felt her resolve slip away.

The music finished. Isabel curtseyed as Alexandre bowed, his blue eyes unwavering.

One of the men, well into his cups, raised his glass for a toast, and the hall echoed with cheers. The spectacle momentarily stole Alexandre’s attention away from her, and Isabel seized the opportunity to escape. In her confused state, she did not want to spend a moment longer in his disturbing company lest she make a fool of herself. She darted through the crowd.

Away from the revelry. Away from him.

She slipped up the stairs and went into the solar, shutting the door behind her with sincere relief. She lit a lone candle and looked about, suddenly at a loss as to what to do. She had nothing to hold over Alexandre anymore. She had no more secrets. No more lies to keep him at bay.

The door opened. Isabel spun around. Alexandre stood on the threshold, his unmistakable form outlined by the torch illuminating the hall behind him.

“Why have you left the festivities?” he asked.

Isabel tried to still her heartbeat, which galloped in her chest at his bold interruption. She struggled to find her voice. “I wanted to be alone.”

“I did nothing to offend you, I hope.”

“No,” she said with a wry smile. “Not this time.”

“I am relieved.” Alexandre shut the door behind him. “I am sorry I lost my temper earlier. I should have offered you my condolences.”

Isabel did not know what to say as he walked over to her. She was grateful he had not sought her out to renew their argument, but that did not explain his presence.

“I should also tell you how beautiful you look tonight, Isabel.”

She tried to ignore the way her body softened at his compliment. She looked away, thankful for the darkness.

He came to a stop just as the flickering candlelight fell on him, the planes and hollows of his face standing out in sharp relief.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“You should not be alone. You are dwelling on the past, no doubt. You should be thinking about your future and what our trip to London will bring.”

“And what kind of future do I have?” she asked, not bothering to hide her bitterness.

He moved closer. Melting beeswax scented the air, his warm breath caressed her cheek and her heartbeat filled her ears—a rapid drumbeat that drowned out the lingering swells of the lute from the hall.

“We can find out together,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “You know that is impossible.”

“Isabel, please…. What holds you back?”

“Everything.” Isabel held up her hands in exasperation. “All that I am.”

“Not all.”

Isabel gaped at him, too surprised to think of a rebuke.

“And it does not trouble you we may never get the opportunity again?” Alex asked.

“You cannot pursue me,” she replied flatly. Her future was already set.

“Why not? Does someone else have your heart?”

She refused to meet his eyes. “
Non.
”

“Then that is all I need to know.”

Something between them shifted. She did not know what caused it, only that it was something she did not know how to stop. “But—”

“Isabel,” he cut her off, “I cannot be convinced otherwise.”

“You can only offer me passion, and that is not good enough.” Even if I could consider you, she finished to herself.

“You are wrong, my lady. I have much more to offer.”

“I believe you not.” She wondered if she could move past him even as her body trembled under his gaze.

“Then let me show you,” he said with a predatory growl.

He pulled her into his arms despite her lackluster protest and kissed her tenderly. The rush of feeling left her lightheaded, and she clung to him for balance, enjoying the way she felt in his arms in spite of herself.

He pulled back and watched her face. She looked up at him, trying to shake the fog from her mind. “Your promise…” she murmured.

Alex tensed under her hands. “I curse the day I made it! What we have between us is not going to go away.”

He swooped down and seized her mouth. Isabel could not contain her ardent response as he drew his arms around her shoulders and crushed her to him. She swept her hands over his torso, hungry for the feel of him through the soft folds of his tunic. Alex found her waist and sought out her curves. She barely held back a moan as he kissed down her throat, his breath harsh against her ears. Quivering, she arched her neck against his warm mouth helplessly.

She wanted more of him. Curling her hands around his head, she directed his lips back to hers. He groaned and knocked aside her headrail as he dug his hands into her hair, renewing the kiss.

Alex maneuvered her against the wall and pressed his hips against hers, nudging her legs apart to accommodate him. A frisson of feminine awareness flooded her. She was well outside the realm of her experience, but she was in no condition to protest. She enjoyed every sensation far too much to think about the danger of their spiraling passion. Or the consequences…

Suddenly Alex was everywhere at once. Isabel gasped in surprise as he cupped her breast. An intense wave of passion gripped her. Wherever Alex touched, there was fire. The flames licked along her skin, charged up her limbs and enveloped her chest.

He consumed her, his ministrations growing increasingly urgent. He tugged down the neckline of her gown, revealing her soft breasts to his moist, hot mouth. Nothing had prepared her for the magnitude of the sensations he elicited as he suckled the taut peak of each breast. She writhed in his arms and could only urge his mouth up to hers.

The door banged open, revealing Alex’s comrade Jerome. Blinded by the sudden infusion of light from the torch the Norman brandished, Isabel let out a soft cry and disentangled herself from Alex. She hastily slipped into the shadows and straightened her clothing.

“What is it?” Alex demanded as he stepped in front of Isabel.

“Two of the men have started brawling over one of the serving wenches.” Jerome eyed Isabel and then looked at Alex. “It’s grown too wild.”

“I will be there in a moment,” Alex said, slightly out of breath.

Jerome bowed and backed from the room, but not before he gave Alex a knowing look.

Alex turned to Isabel and caressed her cheek. She gave into his touch for one brief moment before willing herself to move away. What would have happened if Jerome had not interrupted them? She shuddered. Too much.

She retrieved her headrail from where it had floated to the floor. Her fingers knotted around the lacy material. “Alex, we cannot—”

He reared back, his mouth an angry twist of lips. She fell quiet, unable to meet his eyes. “One day soon we will not be interrupted,” he told her.

He strode to the door, and left her hoping he was right.

14

On the second day of their journey, a slow, soaking rain found them. Only the slight jingle of the harnesses, the creaking of saddles and the sound of the horses plodding through the snowmelt interrupted the silence. Isabel shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, trying to keep her legs from falling asleep.

They were certainly a grim little group. Some of the men’s wits were still addled from the ale they enjoyed at the public house the night before, and the rain did naught to raise their spirits. All but two of Alexandre’s men traveled with them to London, the others were tasked with monitoring the Dumont household in their absence.

Alex permitted Captain Thomas and Isabel’s servant, Averill, to accompany them. She did not feel quite so alone with them at her side. Averill was probably more miserable than the others, being unused to riding horseback for long periods of time. The poor girl clung to one of the packhorses carrying extra supplies and provisions for camping. Isabel hoped they would come across another inn for the evening. The prospect of sleeping on the ground in the rain only deepened her foul mood.

Alex trusted her enough to travel with him to London as a free woman, without shackling her hands or keeping her horse on a lead. She also had possession of her sword and seax, which gave her some measure of relief. Nevertheless, she deliberately kept her distance from the man. Their encounter the night of the feast had left her raw and she could not quell her unease around him. He thankfully respected her need for solitude. It gave her plenty of time to think, an opportunity she simultaneously welcomed and cursed.

On the one hand, her trepidation would soon be at an end. It took a full four days to reach London from Ashdown on horseback, and once she met with William, all would be decided. Her only purpose would be to ensure her people did not suffer at the hands of her new Norman husband. There could be nothing more to her life. Her happiness would only be contingent on the health and prosperity of her people.