Suzanne Robinson (29 page)

“Thunder of heaven!” Juliana began to pull on her captured hand again. “What have you—”

“Have courage, my sweet demoiselle,” he said as he pulled her close to thwart her struggles. Once they were close, he hissed at her. “Saints and sinners, woman, be quiet, or do you want Vyne Hill to suspect you of murder too?” Aloud he said, “Come, we must speak of how your father discovered the guilt of this evil knave.”

Gray inclined his head in the direction of the villagers. “God save you, good people.”

“God save your lordship.”

“God curse you,” Juliana growled, but her imprecations were cut off when he suddenly mounted his horse and pulled her up into his lap. He launched into a gallop that nearly unseated her. Her arms flew out and then clutched at him.

“Hold on, or you’ll end up in the dirt,” he said, that same obsequious smile lurking about his lips.

She had little choice, so she gripped his belt and the horse’s mane until they reached the manor courtyard. His men barreled after them, sending geese and chickens fluttering and honking in all directions at their thunderous invasion. All at once Juliana found herself lifted and dropped to the ground. She landed on her feet with a jolt. Gray dismounted and snatched up her hand. No longer smiling, his air of solicitous concern gone, he walked into the hall so rapidly that she nearly had to run to keep up. Inside he paused by her steward.

“Where is my lady’s chamber?”

Piers’s jaw worked soundlessly, and he pointed up the wooden stair at the other end of the hall. Before Juliana could protest, Gray pulled her after him up the stairs. She was too busy fumbling with her skirts to keep from tripping to protest. He opened the door to her room and plunged inside. A few more of those long-legged strides brought them to the bed. There Gray stopped and gently swung her around so that she bounced against the mattress and sat to catch her balance.

By now Juliana’s hair had come loose from the caul that held it and tumbled about her face. She blew and clawed at it with her fingers. She stood up, but he touched her shoulder with one finger, which was enough to tip her back on the bed. Hands on his hips, legs
planted apart, he stood in front of her. He still wasn’t smiling, and when he spoke, his voice was silky and cool, like the skin of a viper.

“We had an agreement.”

Juliana glared at him even as she felt an internal shiver. This man looked as if he could chop her neck with a war axe and sing while he did it.

“You had an agreement. I was forced.” She gasped when he poked her chest with a forefinger.

“You gave your word, you faithless obstinate.” He straightened and looked down at her as if she were a piece of muck among the floor rushes. “Do you know what you’ve done? No, because you never think about the price of your headstrong, peevish behavior. Your father and I went to your chamber and couldn’t find you. The whole castle knew about it in moments, and do you know what everyone thought? They thought you’d fled because you killed my cousin.”

Juliana gaped at him.

“What, no words, no curses? What a marvel. If your father and I hadn’t put about a story about the stripping bandit, news of your guilty flight would be spreading throughout the demesne by now. Don’t you realize that your hatred of my cousin is well-known?”

“He was a—”

“Holy hell.”

The words were said softly, like a verbal caress, and they frightened her. Juliana bit her lip and peered up at him through a screen of black hair. Her father’s rages didn’t compare to the wrath she now witnessed. Wolves don’t make a great noise when they stalk for the kill. That was it—Gray’s quiet iciness signaled an intent far more threatening than any she or Hugo could manage with their shouting. Without saying a word, Gray conveyed a menace she was sure he would fulfill. And she
could have sworn he grew taller. His long fingers strayed to a dagger shoved into his sword belt. They caressed the shining gold hilt.

“You listen to me, Juliana Welles. And I mean listen. I don’t want to hear one word from those pretty rose lips. Even your father suspects you of killing Edmund. Ah, that shocks you. Good. Rumors have spread that you threatened my cousin’s life.”

Juliana swore at him and tried to stand, but he planted a knee beside her hip and nearly straddled her as he grabbed her shoulders and brought his face close to hers.

“By God, you’re going to tell me the truth.”

The words were said calmly, as though he’d seen into the future and was merely telling it, but his rapid breathing and that gaze that seemed transfixed on her lips disturbed her. His hand left her and strayed to his dagger again. Swallowing hard, she watched his fingers stroke the weapon. Then they strayed to her temple. They fluttered and skimmed down her cheek to her throat like a gentle summer breeze. Unable to move, Juliana realized that she was having trouble summoning the strength to breathe.

He was so close that his breath disturbed the fine wisps of hair at her temples. “Did you kill my cousin, my joyance?”

At the endearment, Juliana’s brows drew together, and at last she woke from the daze into which his very nearness had cast her. Gray saw her expression—and chuckled. Unable to believe what she heard, she was caught off guard when he bent her backward and pressed her to the mattress. His lips brushed her cheek and trailed down her throat.

Before she could push him away, his teeth raked a path from her shoulder up the back of her neck. Stings of arousal jabbed through her, robbing her of reason and
speech. He murmured another demand, but she couldn’t find her voice because his teeth were skimming down her neck and his hands had captured her breasts. The onslaught was so sudden and so complete she had no chance to defend against it.

He said something to her, but blood was rushing in her head and ears. His fingers pinched her nipples, and she made a sound at last, a cry that made him capture her mouth and plunge inside it. She sank into a well of bright, hot arousal. Her hands ran over his body only to meet cloth and chain mail. He must have sensed her frustration, for he clasped her hands and brought them to his hair. Her fingers tangled in soft locks.

Gray seemed bent on kissing the soul from her body. He tasted of wine and smelled of leather and horse. The air seemed to grow thicker and warmer the longer they kissed. When his hand strayed between her legs, she groaned. Her gown was up around her hips. Holding himself so that he didn’t crush her, Gray kept her mouth busy while he loosened the ties of his clothing. She felt him shift briefly, using his formidable strength, but his long hair was in her eyes and his teeth were biting her lips.

He lowered himself again, and this time she felt his heat between her legs. Rigid strength touched her, slid against her, drove her. She clawed at his back. Her fingers worked in the fabric of his surcoat as he gently rubbed against her.

Finally she lost all patience, clamped her hands on his buttocks and rammed him to her. He understood. Rising slightly, he shifted his hips and plunged into her, rocking and stabbing with sharp, short movements. Juliana pushed back while shoving him into her. They worked together, grabbing pleasure and gorging themselves on it
until first she and then he cried out at its churning culmination.

He gasped and strained against her, then collapsed on top of her. Juliana felt his hot cheek against hers, and stroked his hair. Gradually their panting ceased. She could feel him inside her, still hard and twitching, when he lifted his head and looked down at her.

“Now, my joyance,” he murmured. “Tell me you didn’t kill my cousin and then I’ll set about marrying you.”

Her cry of outrage originated deep in her belly and rebounded off the walls, making him wince and take in his breath with a hiss.

“Don’t squeeze me like that.”

Juliana bucked beneath him. He hastily pulled free of her, rolled away, and stuffed himself back inside his clothing. She shoved her skirts down, feeling wet and sticky. Scrambling to the floor, she picked up a pitcher and hurled it at him. Gray ducked, and it crashed against the door. Shards flew in all directions, but Juliana paid no heed. She was already throwing the basin that had sat beside the pitcher.

“Juliana, you stop that at once!”

He dodged the flying basin, which nearly hit his head as he backed toward the door. He reversed his course but stopped when she picked up a stool. As she raised it over her head, he danced away from her and opened the door.

“Evil-tempered shrew.”

“Lying seducer!”

Juliana hurled the stool at him, but all it hit was the door as it closed behind him. She picked up a candlestick and its holder and raced to the door in time to hear a click. She jiggled the latch. It wouldn’t open. Using the brass candlestick holder, she pounded the oak panels.

“Gray de Valence, you open this door,” she shouted.

“Verily, I will. Once you’ve curbed that witch’s temper
of yours. Remember our agreement, my joyance. You’re to adopt right gentle and biddable ways as befits my betrothed. Prove to me that you have, and you can come out. Until then, you’ll remain in your chamber. It may take a while, but you and I are going to come to an understanding about how a wife behaves to her husband. Then I’m going to send for Friar Clement, and we’ll be married. Fare you well for now, my love.”

Uttering the loudest bellow she’d ever managed in her life, Juliana pounded the door until the violence of her blows caused her to lose her grip on the candlestick. It flew out of her hand and clattered across the floor. Breathless, hot, and helplessly furious, she watched it roll in a circle. After a while she noticed that her hands were stinging. She looked down at them. They were bruised and bleeding.

She studied the door; he was gone. He had locked her in her own chamber in her own manor. And he was going to make her marry him. God, he’d exploited her desire for him and then asked her if she’d killed a man. If she married him, she would spend her life trying to escape the dominance of his will and his body. She’d never win against both.

To think only this morning she had been wavering in confusion over her desire for him. But no more. She’d rather spend her life alone than on her knees before Gray de Valence.

JULIANA STRODE ABOUT HER CHAMBER, HER pace quick with agitation, rage, and regret. God was punishing her for her sinful lust. Did not the Bible go on and on about temptation?

“ ‘Abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul,’ ” she muttered.

Her route took her around the bed past a long clothes chest at its foot. She paid no attention to her surroundings until she kicked something on the floor and it rolled—the rounded bottom half of the pitcher she’d thrown at Gray. She stared at it and blushed even in her anger as she remembered the way his lust had vanquished his resolve to question her. Lust. To think she inspired lust in such a magnificent man. And how quickly he regained his domineering manner once it was slaked, the falsehearted craven. Magnificent, yes, but deceitful.

There was a noise outside, the sound of a key turning in a lock. Juliana cursed and glanced around the room. She’d destroyed most of the objects useful for throwing. Snatching up the fragment of the pitcher, she heard Gray call her name and hesitated.
He’s coming back. What if I succumb to sin again?
Without thinking, she raced to the clothing chest, lifted the lid, and jumped in on top of some of her best gowns, the rounded shard still clutched in her hand. She lay on her side and was peeping through the crack between the lid and the chest when Gray came in.

He’d changed into a crimson tunic held in place by a black leather belt. Hose and kid boots encased those long legs, their strength evident in the play of muscles beneath their covering. In these simple garments he looked more the noble knight than many men in their expensive gowns bordered with fur and gold embroidery. Why couldn’t he appear as evil as he behaved?

Gray was looking around the room. Then he smiled, leaned his back against the door, and folded his arms while shaking his head. “I know you’re furious with me, but just how many places are there to hide in this chamber? Come, Juliana, it’s not like you to be so witless.”

Her face burned as she heard the condescending tone in his voice. After debauching her in her own manor while suspecting her of murder, he was treating her like a child! Her hands tightened into fists, but the one in her right hand closed around ceramic smoothness.

“Come out,” Gray said. “If I have to search under the bed and in the chests, I’ll turn you over my knee when I find you.”

Juliana lost what shreds of her temper were left. Shoving back the lid, she sprang from the chest, the fragment gripped in a cocked arm. As she rose and drew back her arm, there was a knock. Then everything seemed to slow down. Too late she saw Gray turn to open the door; at the same time, she tripped on the hem of her gown, throwing off her aim. Too late she realized what would happen. She was already throwing the shard.