wcEND.rtf (19 page)

Several deep breaths later Isabel finally accepted that her intention of pacifying Hunter, albeit good, had backfired. And because of that her situation had turned from difficult to precarious.

How deeply had she hurt Hunter with what to him must have looked like her detached offering? She had almost pushed him beyond his limits. Would he truly force her into submission if she denied him again tonight?

And yet, despite his anger, his obvious disappointment and frustration, he hadn't thrown her on the floor and had his way with her when he had the chance. The thought had crossed his mind, she knew it, but he had not done it. And he could have with impunity, Isabel belatedly realized. No one would
'
ve stopped him. No one would
'
ve dared. But if he didn't do it while in the grips of anger why would he do it later, when he had calmed down? Would she dare put him to test?

By the end of this day Isabel knew she would have to make the decision she'd been postponing the moment her eyes had set on Hunter. Until then, however, there was still hope that the damn chalice would somehow turn up and save her from more heartache.

* * *

THERE WERE ONLY THREE PLACES ISABEL BELIEVED could be hiding the chalic
e
—
t
he orchard, the stables, and the barracks, or garrison's quarters as Hunter called it. Somehow, she didn't think Hunter would hide the chalice in the kitchen, laundry room, or garden, though she would search these places if her first three choices didn't pan
o
ut.

After Hunter left the war room, Isabel took the opportunity to do some searching there, just in case. Her gaze perused the room looking for hiding places and settled on a small chest against the wall by the table. She lifted the heavy lid. Several pieces of parchment, or animal's skins, were tightly wrapped inside a cloth. She would have to undo the bundle to see what was inside, and she decided against it. She didn't want to disturb anything, though she was curious what they contained.

There were also feather pens, bundled together and tied with a ribbon. Their feathers were trimmed to almost nothing and the tip was pointed and split, resembling a fountain pen. Isabel pried open a tightly shut jar and discovered ink inside.

For a moment she was enchanted with the thought of using these writing materials for drawing, but dismissed the thought, realizing she had more pressing matters in mind. Like finding a chalice and returning to her own body.

However reluctant, she put everything back in the chest, closed it, and moved over to the small table against the wall.

She skimmed her gaze over the big book Godfrey was working on earlier, realizing it was an account book judging by the names and numbers of entries, probably of the castle's expenses and income. She picked up a few maps,
setting them down without the least understanding of what they depicted.

After combing the room for the chalice and finding no sign of it Isabel left the war room and crossed the half-empty hall, thankful Hunter was nowhere in sight. She really didn't want to face him right now. Seeing Maude hurrying to her, Isabel decided to give the maid the afternoon off. Somehow she didn't think Maude would approve of her searching plans.

"How do you fare, my lady?" Maude asked somewhat anxiously.

Had she heard Hunter
'
s growl of satisfaction early on? Or his angry shouts soon after? Maude was probably wondering whether her lord and lady had been having sex earlier or blasting each other out. Isabel wasn't about to clari
f
y matters for her.

"Fine," she said, a forced smile playing on her lips. "Where is my husband?" Knowing where Hunter was would simplify where to start her search.

"He is back in training, I am certain," Maude said.

"With an injured hand?"

'That would not stop him."

No, it wouldn't, Isabel realized. It hadn't stopped him from shaking her in the war room either.

"You wish to see the rest of the castle now?" Maude asked.

"No. I want to walk outside for a while."

Isabel moved to the door and immediately Maude fell in step with her. Isabel stopped. "If you do not mind, Maude, I would rather be alone for a while." At the maid's look of surprise, Isabel added, "Take time to do something for yourself, for your own enjoyment."

Maude looked utterly bewildered at her suggestion. Maybe medieval people didn't do anything for fun or even
had time off. Isabel just didn't have time to deal with that right now.

"I wi
l
l see you later." Isabel left the great hall and the confounded Maude behind.

The yard was quite busy with people coming and going. Even if the stables and barracks were empty of men at this time of the day there would be plenty of people to witness her entering either place. The stables she could get away with it, but the barracks would look mighty suspicious. Isabel imagined the place was for men only. What would the lady of the castle possibly want to do there?

She would check the orchard first.

Isabel spent a good part of the afternoon searching behind trees, checking a few suspicious spots on the ground where
the
dirt seemed to have been turne
d
—
m
aybe Hunter had buried the damn chalice. She looked through apple-laden branches, even climbed a tree or tw
o
—
a
n almost impossible job with her very long and cumbersome gown.

Again she wasn't surp
ri
sed when she didn't find the chalice.

Better luck in the stables, she wished herself.

Before she marched out of the orchard, she plucked a particularly appetizing apple from one of the trees and took a bite out of it. She loved apples, and these were the best she'd had in a long time.

The traffic in the yard had diminished considerably. On
l
y a few men lingered about as the sun lowered on the horizon, throwing shadows across the big yard before it disappeared completely behind the mountains in the distance. Isabel ambled in the direction of the stables, a long, horizontal wooden structure conveniently located near the barracks. She entered the building unchallenged. The odor of horse manure and u
ri
ne clung in the stuffy air, making her gag. Taking shallow breaths and holding her long
dress up, she gingerly stepped over the soft hay-strewn floo
r
—
a
t least she hoped that was what it was—
t
o peek inside the occupied stalls from a distance.

Most of the horses didn't seem to mind her presence, though she had no way of knowing their true min
d
—
s
he and horses having never mingled befor
e
—
b
ut one of them eyed her with a distrustful look on its face and neighed loudly.

Startled, Isabel jumped back just as a young man suddenly rose from a dark corner of the stable, making himself visible to her.

Isabel gathered her composure. It wouldn't do to have someone witness her ignorance of horses. After all, medieval ladies should be well acquainted with them. It was their mode of transportation, wasn't it?
I
t
'
d be like a modern woman not knowing about cars. Some might not know how they were built or how to fix them, or even how to drive them, but most wouldn't be afraid of getting into one.

The young man put down a bucket of manure he was holding next to three other filled buckets, and then came to her. Isabel eyed the buckets he left behind. Hunter wouldn't be so crazy as to hide the chalice in a bucket of manure, would he?

She would exhaust all her options first before even considering that particular hiding place.

"Eleanor missed you last night, my lady," the young man said.

Isabel assumed he was speaking of the horse, or more appropriately the mare. "I was occupied with other matters." Knowing Détra should know the young man and especially the mare, she added, "I hope you took good care of her in my absence."

"Aye, my lady. Me and Eleanor are best friends." He
patted the mare's nose and the animal gave a content snort.

"I am glad," she said.

The stable boy looked at her hand. "Will you give her the treat you hold?"

Isabel remembered the half-eaten apple in her hand. She had no problem parting with the fruit, but the
thought
of putting her hand close to those very big teeth wasn't pleasant. Nonetheless, she'd do what she must. Eleanor glared at her for a moment, refusing to take the treat, making Isabel very nervous. Could the animal sense something was wrong with her owner? Then, with a subtlety Isabel would never relate to horses, the mare took the apple from her hand without so much as nipping her fingers.

Pulling her hand back, Isabel decided the chalice wasn't there and she'd better leave the place. She thanked the stable boy, said good-bye to Eleanor, and then stole outside, eagerly gulping in the fresh late-afternoon breeze. In the distance she heard the grunts and shouts of men in training subsiding. Soon they would be returning to their quarters. Even knowing she probably didn't have much time before that happened, Isabel headed in that direction. Time was running out on her. If she didn't find the chalice today, her fate would be sealed tonight.

******************

CHALICE
I
N HAND, HUNTER SAT ON THE COT OF HIS small chamber in the garrison's quarters. In desperate need of reassurance, he willed the stones to glow, the vision to reappear, but the chalice remained unchanged as it had always been with the exception of that morning two days past.

Did the chalice truly have magical powers? Would it
ever show them to him again? Or had it all been a dream, wishful
th
inking on his part?

Hunter refused to believe it thus. He could still see in his mind the vivid image the chalice had revealed. The signif
i
cance of that vision had arrested his anger at Détra in the war chamber. The small possibility his heart wish could still come true had stilled his hand in forcing her to his will. The fact Détra had mellowed toward him these past two days when she had been so co
l
d and distant in the weeks since their marriage had convinced Hunter there was still hope for them, that in some way the chalice had worked its magic on her.

Still, he was utterly vexed at yet anot
h
er rejection from his wif
e
—
a
nd yet the D
é
tra of old would never have touched him the way she did today. Mayhap when he conquered her body this night, he would finally find his way to her heart.

Unless Détra was feigning her reaction to his touch and the passion he had glimpsed in her, Hunter was certain he could use her own desire to aid him in his plan. He had failed before for he had allowed his own lust to overcome his wits, t
h
erefore giving her control. He would do differently now. He would keep his desire in control while he brought hers to life. And he would keep her in such throes of passion, give her such pleasure, that when rejection crossed her mind, she would have no will to reject him.

And she would come back to him for more.

Hunter lifted from the cot and strode to the war chest, then deposited the chalice inside. It was time to seek her. As his hand rested on top of the chest lid he heard the door creaking open. He flung the lid down and spun to see who had entered his private chamber without his bidding.

Détra stood at the door, trying unsuccessfully to hide
her surprise in seeing him there. But what had she expected to find here if not him?

"Do you seek me?" he asked.

"
I
—
ah
—
Y
es, I was hoping to find you here."

"Indeed?" Then why did she look like she had seen a ghost?

"What was that noise?" she asked as if reading his mind. "It startled me."

"The sound of a lid falling over a chest."

"Oh." Her eyes widened as she glanced at his war chest, visible behind him. "What do you keep there?"

She seemed just mildly interested, but Hunter was mistrust
f
ul of her motives, especially with his chalice safely buried inside it. Yet she had no way of knowing that, had she? "Naught much," he answered dismissively. "Naught that would interest a lady, anyway. Only accouterments of war."