Rose of rapture Page 19

  "Come, brother," he called dryly. *'Ye have kept us in suspense long enough. Ye must explain this mad plan of yours at once."

  "Patience, Waerwic, patience." Caerllywel grinned and paused deliberately, causing everyone to groan. "All right, all right!" He raised his hands for silence, then queried mischievously, "Are we all assembled?"

  "Ye can see we are!" the Earl snapped tartly. "Get on with it, brother!"

  "There is no need to get huffy about it, Waerwic," Caerllywel drawled with mock wrath. "Beware, lest I give ye a false map! Now. The game is this: Somewhere, out there"—he indicated the sweep of terrain—"the very good Sirs Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf have buried a treasure, and we must find it. The rules are simple." He reached into his doublet. "These, my dear players, are our maps. We do but have to decipher the clues contained herein and follow them to the treasure. Are there any questions?"

  "Only one," Warrick said. "Just what is this treasure we are seeking? We must be certain 'tis worth all the effort we are about to put forth."

  "Oh, come, come, Waerwic," Caerllywel chided. "Even / do not know the answer to that! Where is your sense of adventure? 'Tis the very fact that ye do not know what the treasure is that lends the game its spice. However, Giles's faithful knights have assured me 'tis something we shall be most grateful for, once we have found it. Are we ready? Then let us proceed at once!"

  The pale grey mist that had cloaked the moors earlier had faded with the slow onslaught of the mellowing sun, and the air was cool and crisp with the clean scent of the late-coming autumn as the small party rode forth from Grasmere. Here and there, the leaves of the trees had begun to turn colors, the red and gold mingling with the green like flickering flames in the forest.

  All were in high spirits as they studied the cryptically detailed maps, which Caerllywel had given them, and attempted to decipher the clues leading to the treasure. Isabella, who was most familiar with the vicinity surrounding Grasmere, was the first to

  figure out the starting point and set off with a httle cry of triumph, the others galloping close behind.

  "Not fair! Not fair!" she wailed laughingly over her shoulder and urged Cendrillon to a faster pace.

  Presently, she was deep into the woods and had lost the rest, who, one by one, gradually split up in order to follow their own hunches, each certain he alone was on the right track.

  It was late afternoon when Isabella finally reached a small clearing wherein stood an old, abandoned well that was said to have existed from the time of the Druids and that the girl had decided was the hiding place of the treasure. Few sought the well out nowadays, however, for it was believed to be haunted; so despite her enthusiasm, Isabella approached it cautiously. She shivered as a soft cry floated to her on the wind and almost turned back before she recognized it was only the whicker of a steed. Someone else had beaten her to the treasure! For a moment, the girl knew only disappointment at having lost the game; then her heart began to pound excitedly in her breast. The winner was probably Giles, as, next to her, he knew the area best; but there' was also a chance that it was Lionel, and she would have a few precious minutes alone with him before the others arrived. Eagerly, Isabella touched her heels to Cendrillon's sides, guiding the mare into the clearing.

  "Ye!" she cried as, much to her dismay, she discovered it was Warrick who awaited her. "What are ye doing here? This place is little known, even to my brother and myself. How did ye find it so quickly?"

  "I determined 'twould be easier merely to decipher the last clue while the rest of ye wasted your time getting through the entire map. And as your three knights kindly employed a Welsh word in the final puzzle—no doubt in order to assist my brother and me a little since we do not know this region—'twas not that difficult for me to discover this place. I had but to search for a well."

  "Aye, but how did ye know that?"

  The Earl pointed to his map and quoted, "'Ride ahead of the sun to a place where its worshipers once drew cain from a ring of stone.' In order to ride ahead of the sun, one must travel west, naturally," he explained. "Sun worshipers were, of course, the ancient pagans, so I assumed the location of the treasure was old and probably abandoned. But the real key to the riddle was cain, which, in this instance, refers not to the biblical Cain, but a

  Welsh word meaning 'clear bright water.' 'A ring of stone' thus translated as a well."

  "Very clever, my lord. I have to admit 'twas the cain that puzzled me. I wasted a great deal of time searching the land east of a place called Eden's Folly before I realized the sun worshipers were doubtless Druids, and I thought of this place. 'Tis said they haunt this well, ye know."

  "Really? Well, shall we see if they disturbed the treasure?"

  "All right." Isabella nodded.

  Warrick helped her dismount, and together, they hauled up the bucket from the well. The rotten timbers on which the pail's frayed rope was wound creaked ominously, but at last, the two had the treasure in hand. It soon proved to be nothing more than a huge picnic lunch and a couple of jugs of wine, but Isabella, who was by this time famished, only laughed and set about preparing the meal.

  "Christ's son," the Earl cursed, gazing down at the now-open basket as though he would like to have kicked it. "Do ye mean to tell me we searched all mom for this?"

  "I'm sorry," Isabella apologized ruefully from where she knelt. "I imagine this was Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf's idea of a jest—in which they were doubtless aided and abetted by your brother. Nevertheless, 'twas thoughtful of them to provide this repast. I'll warrant they realized how hungry we would be after our exertions, and I am starved, so all is not lost."

  "Aye." Warrick's eyes suddenly darkened speculatively. "Ye are right, of course. All is indeed not entirely lost," he said softly. "We are, after all, quite alone here; and ye do owe me a kiss. I think now, madam, is the time to collect it."

  Isabella's chest constricted without warning; for an instant, she found herself unable to breathe. In the next moment, she was inhaling sharply, practically gasping for air. The Earl had been so long in demanding payment that she had thought he had forgotten all about the price of his silence. She should have known better!

  "Warrick, please," she whispered.

  "Come, sweetheart," he coaxed strangely, holding out one hand and smiling down at her oddly. "I am waiting, and ye did promise."

  Slowly, fearing what he might do to her otherwise, Isabella laid her palm in his and rose to her feet, wondering at the peculiar glint in his eyes and the endearing manner in which he had spoken

  to her. Why, he had made it sound as though they were lovers! But why? Why this sudden change in attitude toward her? Somehow, it frightened her. Though Isabella feared and disliked him, she was honest enough with herself to admit that Warrick had a strong animal magnetism that attracted her to him, no matter how hard she fought against it. What would happen if he turned the full depths of his charm upon her? She did not think she could stand such an assault upon her senses. She half-turned, as though to flee, and felt the Earl's hand tighten on her own.

  "I am waiting, my love," he murmured, still gazing down at her with the strange light in his eyes. "It has been far too long since I last tasted the sweetness of your lips."

  Still hesitant, a pulse now beating rapidly at the hollow of her throat, the girl pleaded once more for release from the price of his silence, but he only laughed and shook his head.

  "Come, come, 'Sabelle." He spoke the intimate version of her name as though caressing it. "Do not play coy with me. Ye know full well that I desire ye. This will not be the first time I have held ye in my arms—nor will it be the last. We shall share many such moments together, and I know ye await them as eagerly as I. 'Tis only your maidenly virtue that causes ye to blush and deny it. Now, come. Where is the kiss ye promised me?"

  Tentatively, trembling slightly, Isabella wrapped her arms about Warrick's neck and placed her mouth on his. She had meant only to kiss him lightly, then withdraw; but suddenly, he crushed her to h
im, tangling the fingers of one hand roughly in her hair so she could not free herself. Alarmed, the girl began to struggle, not realizing it appeared as though she were pressing her body even closer to the Earl's and writhing against him suggestively. But Warrick knew and took full advantage of the situation, bending her backward so her knees buckled, and she was forced to stop fighting him, to cling to him tightly, almost wantonly, for support. Her head began to spin dizzily as the blood rushed to it hotly, and from somewhere deep in her throat came a low, animalistic moan—a soft cry of passion and surrender that she was unable to prevent.

  Only then did the Earl let her go. And only then did Isabella hear the smothered gasp of outrage that came from the edge of the clearing. Horrified, the girl whirled in time to see Lionel, his face a distorted mask of anger and disbelief, yank his horse about cruelly and gallop heedlessly through the woods.

  "Lionel!" she sobbed brokenly, understanding, at last, the reason for the scenario just past. "Lionel!" But he was gone. Des-

  perately, she tried to run after him, but Warrick caught her possessively and yanked her back. Her eyes flashing with pain and rage, Isabella stared up at him dazedly, hating him, wanting to kill him. "Ye knew!" she accused him feverishly. "Ye swine! Ye knew that Lionel was there all the time! Ye made it seem as though ye and I were lovers—that I—that I wanted ye—"

  "Aye," he said, grinning, but the smile did not quite reach the narrowed shards of his amber eyes. "I warned ye, madam: Ye are mine, and I will not have ye trysting with another."

  "Oh, God, I despise ye! I despise ye, do ye hear?" Isabella cried.

  "Dost think I care?" the Earl queried sharply. "Tis enough that ye obey me. I do not ask for your love."

  "Even if ye did, I wouldst never give it to ye. Never!" the giri vowed.

  Blindly, uncontrollably, she struck out at him like a wild thing, her fingers curled into tightly clenched fists. But Warrick only laughed, easily pinioning her arms behind her back and claiming her mouth once more, kissing her searingly until her lips were bruised and swollen from his violent lovemaking, and her body was melting against his, her wrath turning, against her will, to desire.

  Chapter Sixteen

  SOMEWHERE, IN THE DISTANCE, THE VAST, WIND-swept moors seemed to meet the even more endless sky, the vivid autumn reds, golds, and greens of the earth and the pale, washed blue of the firmament running into each other, like watercolors in the rain, until they became as one; and the far horizon had no beginning, no end.

  That is what the end of the world will be like, Isabella thought as she gazed out across the land. The heavens will meet the earth, and somewhere, the stars will fall into the sea. Perhaps if I ride far enough, I will find it has already begun, that somewhere, beyond the distant blurring of the horizon, the world is dying even now... dying, as I am dying inside, nevermore to be—

  She sighed slowly, deeply, as though to inhale sharply would be to cause the dull, throbbing ache in her heart to stab more painfully, hurting her beyond what she could bear.

  Lionel had gone, and she had been given no chance to explain to him what had really happened that day at the well. Warrick had seen to that, watching her constantly from beneath half-closed lids and waiting, waiting, unnerving her with the savagery and desire she knew lay coiled within his being. The girl trembled as she thought again of how he had kissed her that day at the

  well and how she had melted in his imprisoning arms, surrendered to his demanding lips. Oh, God. He could have taken her there, and she would have given herself to him willingly, shamelessly, not caring that she despised him, that he had turned Lionel against her, had wounded both her and her beloved to the very depths of their souls. Only Giles's arrival had prevented the Earl from making her his. Oh, God. What was wrong with her?

  Surreptitiously, Isabella looked over at Warrick, who rode beside her. He had done something to her to make her want him, despite her hatred of him. What was it? She studied him covertly, as though she could somehow discover the answer, but she could not. He was handsome, aye, but she had known many handsome men, Lionel among them. What was it then? The way those suddenly hot yellow eyes seized upon her hungrily, possessively, mentally stripping away her clothes and ravishing her fiercely, passionately, so she quivered all over just thinking about how it would be if Warrick actually made love to her? Aye, that must be it, for even now, she shivered uncontrollably with wanting at the thought. He had seduced her with those knowing eyes that seemed to say, "Come hither, and I will make ye feel as ye have never felt before. Ye are mine... mine!"

  Christ's son! The very arrogance of the man. Who did he think he was anyway? His rank and riches were no greater than Lionel's, so what was it that drew Isabella to Warrick then, despite her love for the heir of St. Saviour? Surely, 'twas more than just a pair of eyes, no matter how compelling they might be. But... had it—had it not been Lionel's eyes that had won her heart? Aye, in truth, it was so. Isabella was stricken with despair at the thought. Was she but a fool then, to fall for a desire-filled glance? Nay, 'twas more than that. Lionel was her golden god, the sun and the sky. And Warrick... Warrick was a dark devil, the shadows and the earth. Aye, that was it.

  We all have a darker side, the girl realized, and she knew that somehow, some way, Warrick had seen hers and claimed it as his own. Nay, I shall not be his Persephone, she thought, rebelling against the idea. I shall get Lionel back and find some way to free myself from Warrick's spell. Oh, if only I had been able to talk to Giles!

  But her brother had gone back to the Borderlands to rejoin Gloucester and to battle the barbarous Scots who dared to raid upon England's soil. There was no one left to talk to except Caerllywel, and Isabella could not bring herself to speak to him

  of her troubles. No matter how kind he was, he was still Warrick's

  brother.

  So she rode on silently toward Rushden and said nothing of the ache in her heart.

  Beside her, the Earl watched the girl intently, guessing the depth of her pain and feeling a momentary flash of guilt at the hurt he had done her. Then he remembered Brangwen, and he forced himself to remain hard and unyielding. He would have no bride who would betray him. He would not be made a fool of again. He was sorry for Isabella, for by now, he had learned how cruelly Lord Oadby had treated the girl and her brother and how they had suffered as children, even as Warrick had suffered during his own youth. But the knowledge did not lessen the Earl's unrelenting purposefulness toward Isabella. Indeed, it made it more stem. She had been allowed to run wild, had virtually been raised in the stables of Rushden, under the care of Sirs Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf, who, out of love and pity, had indulged her every whim. As a result, her behavior toward men was too free and easy for Warrick's liking. At Rushden, it mattered little, as her brother's knights knew their place and would never have dreamt of taking advantage of Isabella's charms. But at Court...

  The Earl's mouth tightened. The girl would encourage every courtier at the palace; and rakes like Lord Thomas Grey, Marquis of Dorset and the Queen's son, would not hesitate to make Isabella theirs and then boast of their conquest of her for all to snigger about behind Warrick's back! Doubtless, her fear of what he would do if he discovered she was not a virgin on their wedding night was the only thing that had prevented her from lying with Lord Lionel. But after the Earl had married her, and her maidenhead no longer remained to serve as proof of her faithfulness-.-Aye, that was when she would betray him, would seek to revenge herself on him for all real and imagined slights. Then she would give herself to any man just to spite him, as Brangwen had done.

  Even now, Isabella was probably already contemplating her vengeance, Warrick thought as he stared over at her still figure on Cendrillon. Well, she would not have it, he vowed. He would keep a close watch on her while they were betrothed and after they were wed, he would kill her if she even so much as looked at another man. As for the girl believing herself in love with Lord Lionel—well, the Earl hoped he had ended the affair before it had be
come too serious. But just in case he had not, Warrick had sent his squire Rhys to St. Saviour-on-the-Lake to discover

  all there was to know about its heir. If, despite all that had occurred, Lord Lionel still persisted in his attentions to Isabella, the Earl would know how to deal with that moonstruck swain most efficiently. Arrogantly, Warrick dismissed Lord Lionel Va-leureux from his mind.

  Moments later, the Earl's musings were abruptly interrupted by a startled cry from Isabella. The sound brought him back sharply to reality, but before he could discover what was amiss, the girl had urged her mare to a gallop and was heading away from the road to the moors beyond.

  '"Sabelle!" he shouted angrily, but she paid him no heed.

  Warrick swore under his breath, then yanked his horse about to follow Sirs Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf, who had ahready hastily pulled away from the procession.

  " Tis some animal in distress, my lord," Sir Eadric called back over his shoulder. " Tis the only thing that sets my lady Isabella off like this."

  This was soon proven to be the case, for by the time the Earl had reached her, the girl had dismounted and was bent over a stray dog that lay upon the ground some distance from the road. How she had spied the hound, he did not know, for it was little more than a crumpled heap of bones; it was so starved. She talked to the animal quietly for a moment, then, as it seemed docile and friendly enough, she held her hand to its nose to let it accustom itself to her scent. Tentatively, the beast licked her fingers. It was only then that she began to examine it. Once finished, she raised her head.

  "Thegn, have some of the men bring a cart," Isabella ordered, gazing up at Warrick as though daring him to defy her command.

  But he said nothing. There was no pressing need to return to Rushden, and besides, the Earl knew that Isabella had a special penchant for injured creatures and would not have obeyed him in any event, had he ordered her to leave the hound. At least it would give her something to think about besides Lord Lionel Valeureux.