Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry (24 page)

“Damn,” he muttered. “Put the stone back.”

“Sir?”
Fletch asked, his brows furrowed in question.

“I must speak with Lord Warwick and Lord
Hardwyck
. Now we know how these fools are surviving. A plan must be hatched. Come now, you must clean yourself
up.”

Carefully grasping the bramble branches they’d cut away, Michael tried to replace them, so as not to draw attention to the French if any of them should use the passageway before he and A
lexander
had a chance to make good on a plan.

Once he felt satisfied that the secret entrance looked almost the same as it had before, he assigned a couple of men to guard it and then turned back to Fletch to help him disrobe.

“Get on with it, the water is lush,” he said with a wave of his hand.

*****

Fall was fast approaching.

Until now, the Wolf had been too afraid to attack. But he realized it hadn’t been folly that held his urges at bay. No indeed, it had been smarts. His brain was working mighty fine, it was.

They were all comfortable now.
Feeling safe.

And it was about time he broke that shield of ease and calm.

He smiled cruelly and watched as Lady Elena and her women picked apples in the grove. How fortunate for him to have gotten an injury just the
day before the men were
to depart for France. He’d been among the list to leave. But after his accident—which indeed was no accident at all—he’d had the good fortune to be left behind.

He scraped his teeth with a bit of straw, relishing the sting as it cut against his gums.

W
ouldn’t be long now.

Chapter
Twenty-
One

T
he clatter of wood on wood startled Elena awake. She blinked her eyes, trying to adjust them to the dusky room. She’d taken to her bed after the
nooning
with a fiery headache, and now it must be close to evening. No candles were lit, only an orange grey light shimmered through the cracks of the closed shutters.

The nap had dulled the pain in her head, but it was bound to come back as it always did when seasons changed. Something with the drastic temperature change, as if her body once used to warmth rebelled when fall turned the air crisp. Her migraines were fierce from temple to temple. Light seared her eyes. Sounds were too much. She even vomited, emptying every morsel she’d taken in.

Luckily, the worst of it appeared to be over.
Again a scraping sound and hushed voices.

She pushed up to her elbows and glanced toward where the sound came from.

Beth stood by the door, whispering, her arms moving frantically to whomever she spoke to in the hall.

“Beth, who is there?”
Elena smoothed her hair and moved to put her feet on the ground, but Beth’s gaze stopped her.

The maid looked frightened as she flicked her widened eyes in Elena’s direction and then turned back toward the door.

Elena would not let harm come to her maid, even if it appeared only to be the sort that came with the mind.

She pushed her feet into her slippers and stood to approach the door.

“My lady—”

But Beth was cut off. A wooden crutch jabbed into the
door and pushed it further open, creaking loudly on its hinges. Elena would have to talk with Friar
Gyles
about having it oiled. The door was extremely loud, and she feared whenever she came in she’d wake any person who deigned to sleep.

“My lady, I see you have woken,” Jon, Michael’s squire said, from the doorway. His hair was disheveled, as were his clothes, and while his lips curled into a smile, it did not reach his eyes.

“Indeed, I have. You woke me.” There was no bite to her tone, but she did wish him to know she did not think his appearance at her door while she slept was appropriate. “What is it you need?”

“I had thought to escort you to dinner.” His eyes narrowed slightly, and she had the distinct feeling he was irritated at her reaction.

“You are feeling well enough to attend?” Elena smoothed the wrinkles from her skirts and folded her hands in front of her hips as she often did. Not only did the stiff stance give her confidence, it always seemed to appease anyone whom she was speaking with—who happened to show the slightest bit of unease. And Jon, at that moment was making her feel very uneasy. There was a tightly wound chain inside him that looked ready to snap and she could not fathom why.

“I am.
My thanks for your inquiry.
’
Twas an unfortunate accident, but one that shall not hinder me from my duties.”

“I daresay Sir Michael would not give you duties while you recover from a broken leg, Jon.” Elena smiled reassuringly. “You won’t find me banging down your door. Beth is perfectly capable of providing
escort,
we are after all quite isolated here.”

“Isolated,
aye
.”
His voice had grown darker, and a stroke of cold fear swiped Elena’s insides. What in heavens
was wrong with the man? He was normally aloof, polite. It seemed almost as if someone else possessed him entirely.

“Quite. Why do you not go and rest then, Jon? I’m sure I will be in need of your service again soon. I bid you good evening.”

Elena nodded to Beth who attempted to close the door, but again Jon’s wooden crutch crunched against the surface.

“I fear, my
lady, that
would be quite impossible.”

Elena narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “Sir, I find your ac
tions and words to be quite imp
udent. I have dismissed you. We may be at the abbey, but you are still in service to Kent, and I am the Countess.”

He pushed the door further open and hobbled inside. His entire left leg was encased in thick bandages, the bottoms of two wooden slats seen near his ankles. His foot was covered in a woolen sock and a boot, half unlaced.

“You are indeed, the
Countess
,” he hissed. His voice was low and menacing and he hobbled closer so that he stood between Elena and Beth. “A woman tossed aside by a husband who abhors her.
A woman who has whored herself to a knight in her husband’s own household.
Will you play the whore for me?”

Beth gasped in outrage. “You speak out of turn to your mistress! You will be punished for this!”

Without speaking, Jon spun around and struck Beth on the side of the head with his crutch. The resounding crack sickened Elena, and she felt like collapsing as Beth’s eyes rolled. Her maid opened her mouth to speak, but he hit her again. She crumpled to the floor in a heap of skirts.

Using his crutch, Jon pushed the door closed.

“As I was saying…” His words were issued through grinding teeth.

“You need not repeat the vile words you have spoken.” She kept her head
high,
shoulders squared, and forced her voice to carry authority.

Jon’s head fell back and he laughed. Elena wanted to snatch his crutch from his hands and pummel it over his head, just as he had assaulted her innocent maid.

“You will be punished for having attacked my maid. I suggest you leave.”

“Your suggestion has been duly noted, but unfortunately, I do not take advice from women or whores.”

“Who do you think you are? Have you no respect for your master, Sir Michael?”

“My master?
The man I should be looking up to? He has broken his own rules.”

Elena had to keep Jon talking. If she kept him talking then one of her other maids would come in search of her for dinner and she could make her run for help before Jon had time to hobble toward the door to shut the maid up as he had Beth. Elena thanked God Jon had not had the wit to lock the door. She kept her eyes steady on him, watching his every move like a hawk.

“What rule?”

“He has ill-used a woman.
A woman who does not belong to him.”

“Of whom do you speak?”

He snickered. “Surely you jest, my lady.” His voice
was
mocking, and his use of the words
my lady
sounded derogatory.

“I assure you, Jon, I do not jest.” She would never admit to having an affair with Michael, only to put his life in danger.

At this, he only laughed harder, thumping his wooden crutch against the floor. Elena watched as it struck the floor four times. With hope, the noise it made would alert someone below stairs to come and see what was happening.

His laughter suddenly stopped and his eyes, feral, mouth curved into a snarl, he reminded her of a wild beast. He was mad with rage, and just plain insanity. “You are not
an imbecile, Lady Elena. Why act as such? You know of what I speak. You know so very well.”

“I find your words insulting.” She looked down her nose at him, hoping he would take her demeanor for disgust, but she had no such luck.

His arm whipped out with lightning speed and he gripped her around the throat, hauling her toward him. His fingertips bit painfully into her skin, and
she
sucked in trying to breathe, but only gurgled.

His face came within an inch of hers, his breath foul like onions and ale. “Have you no shame? I watched him enter your room. I heard the moans, the slapping of flesh. I know how he feels about you. He told all of his men how he’d had you. How he loved you.”

Ha
d he? Would Michael
really
divulge
their secrets? Could she believe this man who choked the life from her?

She desperately scraped at his fingers clutching her neck, shook her head, trying anything to catch a breath. His grip lessoned, but he did not let go. She greedily sucked in what little air his hold allowed.

Jon’s breath was ragged, his lids drooping slightly. With one hand around her neck, he had to lean heavily on his cane with the other. But he did not seem to care so much about the pain in his leg. Instead his eyes darkened and he licked his lips.

“It feels good to grip your neck, to know I can snuff the life from you.”

He leaned forward, his onion scented tongue slithering out, and he licked from her chin to the corner of her eye.

“I can taste your fear.”

She gulped, and suppressed a repulsed shudder.

“You should leave. Leave before you do more harm. You will not likely escape from here with what you are doing.”

“Are you threatening me, you little whore?”

She did not respond.
Only scraped at his fingers more.

“You can’t threaten me. I am untouchable.” He laughed then, and bit her earlobe, not hard, but enough to sting. “I am going to enjoy this.”

She kicked out, the toe of her slipper connected with his bandaged leg right below the knee. He let out a howl, but his grip on her neck loosened. She shoved against his chest, and he wobbled backward, seeming to lose his balance.

“You bitch!”

Elena
didn’t wait to see if he regained his balance. She skirted arou
nd him, running toward the door
,
then
pitched forw
ard, her knees hitting the
wood floors hard. Her hands slapped down and saved her chin from jutting against the floorboards by a couple inches. The wind was knocked from her, but she didn’t care about breathing, just escaping.

Jon yanked his crutch from beneath her legs, which he’d stuck out to trip her.

“You cannot escape!” he shouted.

She scrambled to her knees, crawling as he grappled with h
er ankles, her calves, her hips. Jon shoved her face-down,
and then he was on top of her, his hot, fetid breath in her ear.

“Be a good girl and lie still, this
will
hurt a little.”

Panic seized her. Her throat constricted even as bile rose to burn the back of her mouth. She gagged, but forced herself to gain control. This man, whom she thought was a loyal vassal to Michael, a friend to her even, had turned out to be quite the contrary.
An evil, vile man.

Her gaze fell on her maid, Beth. Blood oozed from a gash in the side of her head, and she lay so still. Her eyes were closed, her mouth only partially opened as if she slept, but Elena knew better. Her chest rose not at all.

She would not let him do this. She was a lady. She was a fighter. She’d allowed herself to be abused too many times at the hands of her husband.

With conviction warming her blood, she jerked her head backward, wincing and crying out
from the
sting
of
her skull connected with Jon’s face. But she was rewarded with his howl of agony.

“You will pay for that in pain!” He hit her h
ard then on the temple
with his fist. Her head bounced forward knocking against the rough wooden planks of the floor.

She tasted blood on her lips, one of her teeth having jabbed into the soft flesh. She didn’t cry out this time, only squeezed her eyes shut.

Warm stickiness dripped on her bare shoulder where her dress had torn sometime during her struggle. But she was glad to feel it. It was blood, which could only mean he was bleeding.
Good, she’d
done him some damage too with her head-butt. She hoped to have broken his nose.
Jon
sat up, awkwardly
with his broken leg and
straddl
ed
her hips. He tucked one arm tight against her side, and the other he yanked behind the small of her back, pinning it there with his thigh. She was stuck.
Elena
struggled, but he only squeezed harder making her fingertips go numb. “I told you to lie still. Will you make me tie your limbs? Truss you up like a pig?”

She refused to answer.
Pressed her lips hard together.
She waited for another chance to strike, which wo
uld be difficult considering he
held her pinned.

He shifted behind her, rustling with her skirts, but not lifting up over her hips as she had expected him too. No, it was then she heard the tearing of cloth. He was ripping at her chemise. Her arms were roughly yanked behind and s
he fought, desperately tugged
from his grasp, but he was stronger, so much stronger.

He tied her taut at the wrists.
Too tight.
Her fingers
,
which had already begun
to prickle from him pinning her,
now tingled fiercely, going numb one by one. He stroked down her legs with his fingers sending shivers of revulsion careening through her body. Again she gagged, and again she
forced herself to remain strong. She would not let him win. She could not let him get the better of her. She would no longer be victim. She struggled, kicking her feet, yanking her arms and bucking her hips, but he only laughed an
d then sat heavily on the back
o
f
her legs, making her want to scream with pain. He was so heavy, and his weight nearly crushed her small bones. But she kept silent, and tried with no waning vigor to kick her feet and cause damage.