Authors: Betrothed
“A ransom would gain him nothing but a war,” Guy said. “Soon he will realize that I will not be persuaded from my course, that he will gain all he wants if he but agrees with me.”
“What is your course, my lord? What did you say to make Baron Lonsdale leave the feast in such a foul mood?” Evard offered a possible answer before Guy could respond. “You are well within your rights to demand every beast and ration of grain we sent to Halford these past years. Is that your intent, to demand more than the keep itself?”
“Aye, I would have more than Halford from Baron Lonsdale.” His gaze moved to a point past Evard and he recalled the image of Claudia’s face when he kissed her. “She has eyes the color of emeralds.”
“A woman?” Evard looked confused for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Do not tell me—not the niece. My lord, please do not tell me that you intend to make Lonsdale’s niece your next mistress.”
“Very well. I will not tell you.” He smiled at Evard’s horrified expression, but did not let him suffer long. “Actually, I thought she might make a more suitable wife.”
Guy wondered if he’d rendered Evard speechless at long last. The knight’s eyes were round with shock, and his mouth worked up and down in silence.
“I have to marry sooner or later,” he went on. “I always pictured a wife more the image of Kenric’s fair-haired Lady Tess, but I never considered the benefits of a wife such as Lady Claudia. Our trade depends upon the Italian merchants. My dealings with them will be that much smoother when they realize I have taken one of their own as my baroness. When they journey to Montague, she will make them feel at home. She might even gain me greater acceptance into their circles when we journey to Venice.”
Evard finally managed to find his voice. “You have lost
your mind! Baron Lonsdale will beggar you when he learns you would make a marriage.”
“I doubt Lonsdale has any idea what it would take to beggar me,” Guy replied. “However, he could name almost any amount as the dower and she would be worth the price. Think it through, Evard. Her father was an Italian, and that makes Claudia an Italian in the eyes of the law. The Venetians will not allow outsiders to traverse their southern trade routes. With Claudia as my wife, I could purchase ships in her name and increase our trade tenfold.” The thought of Claudia as his wife brought to mind many images, but none involved Italian merchants or ships. He tried not to grin. “At this moment, Lonsdale knows nothing more than my intention to draw out the negotiations. Tomorrow morning during the stag hunt I will tell Lonsdale that I want Claudia as compensation for the outrageous sum he demands for Halford Hall. He will counter with another exorbitant demand for the dower, and we will settle on an amount that will make him more than happy. The betrothal can take place tomorrow afternoon.”
“I can scarce believe you are the same man who professed not a fortnight ago to be in no great hurry to marry. Now you would tie yourself for life to a woman whose uncle is little more than a blackmailer?” Evard shook his head. “You have concocted many mad schemes in my years of service with you, but this is the maddest.”
“Have you known one of my schemes to fail?” Guy demanded.
“Nay, but many came so close that I did picture us both in shrouds.”
Guy gave up his effort to convince him of the plan’s merits. He stood up and indicated that the conversation was over. “See if you can manage another meeting with our spy tonight and relate what I just told you.”
“Aye, my lord.” Evard began to walk toward the door, but hesitated when Guy called out to him.
“Just one more thing, Evard.” Guy unstrapped his
swordbelt and placed the weapon near the bed. He unsheathed his dagger as well, intending to place it under his pillow, but first he pointed the tip toward Evard. “Watch your own back, my friend. Lonsdale needs me alive. You, he might find more useful dead.”
Hours later a thump roused Guy from his sleep. His hand reached for the dagger almost before his eyes opened, but he could see nothing in the pitch black that enveloped the chamber. He listened for another suspicious sound, but felt too groggy and disoriented to concentrate. His eyes slid closed and sleep soon reclaimed him.
A strange dream began to take shape. He was being carried as he’d seen wounded men be carried from the battlefield; one man gripped his legs while another lifted his shoulders. Odd that he didn’t feel any pain, odder still that they were not on a battlefield. They were in a hallway of some sort, narrow and musty-smelling. He could see the outline of a third man ahead of them who held a rush torch aloft to guide their way, yet he couldn’t focus on the flames. They danced and hissed together in constant patterns of fuzzy motion. He looked at the arched ceiling and experienced a floating sensation, a weightlessness that made him think he could fly if he put his mind to it. The stone blocks that formed the archway raced by faster and faster until he became dizzy and closed his eyes.
“Remove their clothing.”
The voice came from far away. The man spoke again several times but he couldn’t make out the words, then a long silence descended. He no longer felt weightless. His limbs seemed made of lead. He couldn’t move, didn’t want to move. What an odd dream.
It got better. He rubbed his cheek against something warm and soft that smelled of flowers. The something shifted beneath him.
“Mm.”
A woman. He had been so long without one that now he
was dreaming of them. He would have to remedy that situation soon. His remedy had green eyes and long, long, long dark hair. He rubbed his cheek against the soft surface again, hoping she would make that same sweet sound. He smiled when she did.
His eyelids felt weighted with lead. He could barely open them. When he finally accomplished the small task, he was surprised to see the gray light of dawn through the window. Strange, but the window seemed in a different place than it had last night. That did not matter. Not while his head rested upon the curve of a woman’s breast. Claudia’s breast. What other woman would he conjure up in his dream?
His heart began to beat harder. Very little in his life happened without plan and purpose. Even when events seemed to occur at random or beyond his will, their reason became clear in time. Omens were signs he never ignored, and this dream was a sure omen. Claudia was the true reason he came to Lonsdale Castle. She would be his bride.
Aye, it all made sense, even her presence in this dream. It was a sign that she, too, knew her fate and accepted it. She had sealed their fate that afternoon when she returned his kisses with a passion that set his soul on fire. He’d wanted to take her then and there. Now that he knew she would be his, he was content just to hold her. He drew her into the circle of his arms and pressed his body against hers. His hand traveled the length of her slender back and he realized that she was naked. Gloriously naked. So was he. The groan he heard was his own as he pulled her closer. Then he wanted to look at her.
He propped himself up on one elbow, amazed that it required such an effort and disconcerted that the room felt unsteady, as if they were on the rolling deck of a ship. He focused on Claudia’s face easily enough. She was asleep. Her thick lashes looked like delicate fans against her cheeks, and he reached for her face with an unsteady hand. Soft as the petals of a rose. His fingers trailed down her neck so clumsily that he ventured no farther than her shoulder. He wanted to
impress her with his lovemaking, seduce her with the skills he’d learned through years of experience, yet his body wouldn’t cooperate with his mind. Christ’s bones. She wasn’t even awake.
“Claudia.”
Her lashes fluttered as if she, too, had trouble opening her eyes. She moved closer to him and rubbed her face against his chest as a small kitten might. “Mm.”
The affectionate movement had an immediate affect. Heat flooded through him, lust tempered by a wave of tenderness. “Claudia, wake. Up,” he added, as an afterthought. Nothing he tried seemed to work quite right in this dream.
He pushed that worry aside when he felt her turn in his arms. Her eyes were luminous as she looked up at him, so green that the pupils were no more than small pinpoints of light in the center of priceless emeralds. A fanciful thought, but he imagined he could glimpse her soul in those eyes as well. She was a creature of the shadows at Lonsdale, always on the fringe of a crowd, lingering in doorways and beneath darkened arches, just out of reach and all but out of sight. He would bring her into the sunlight again, draw her forward into his life as effortlessly as he drew her into his arms tonight. He would make her smile.
His finger traced the outline of her lips, but they did not curve into the expression he wanted to see. He would have to work harder for that reward. His fingertips trailed across her cheek and he marveled at the softness of her skin, even as he made an unsettling observation. She looked serene, but she didn’t look happy. He vowed to fill her life with smiles.
He pressed his lips against her forehead to seal his vow. She was still staring at him when he drew back. She lifted her hand and touched his mouth, a slow, steady exploration, as if she wanted to memorize the shape of it. Her fingertips moved to the rough surface of his cheek and her nails made a small scratching sound against the stubble. He couldn’t breathe.
Nay, he’d forgotten to breathe. He filled his lungs with air, then slowly released it. Her delicate brows drew together,
as if she were puzzled by his reaction to her touch. He turned his head and captured one of her fingertips between his lips for a provocative kiss. Her eyes widened with surprise as she drew her own deep breath.
He caught her hand before she could pull it away and turned the palm toward him to brush feathery kisses along the sensitive skin, the bones of her wrist small and fragile in his big hand. He brushed his thumb across the area where the skin moved in a steady reflection of her heartbeat, fascinated for some reason by the rhythm. He kissed her wrist again and flicked his tongue across the pulse point, pleased by the shudder he felt run through her. Next he pressed her palm against the center of his chest to let her feel the erratic beat of his own heart, then leaned down to capture her lips for a long, deep kiss.
The kiss started out just fine, but something did not feel right. She didn’t respond as she had in the gardens. Her lips became lifeless, passionless. He lifted his head and saw that her eyes were closed again. She had fallen asleep, the stubborn wench. This was his dream. She could at least cooperate.
Another thought made him frown. Perhaps he couldn’t make love to a dream. The blood pounded in his ears so hard that he couldn’t concentrate. He closed his eyes and tried to gather his muddled senses. A wave of dizziness struck so hard that his stomach protested its violence. The pace of his heart and breathing quickened, but this time from alarm rather than lust. Something was wrong. Very wrong. What was that pounding noise in his ears?
“What are you … Oh, my head!”
His eyes opened and he watched Claudia hold one hand to her forehead, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She released small puffs of breath that ruffled his hair and seemed to brush at the fog that encased his thoughts, the haziness that blurred his vision.
This was no dream.
He jerked himself upright but had to stop and clap his hands over his ears. A hot burst of pain shot through his skull
and set black spots before his eyes. The sound of his heartbeat became a deafening roar in his ears. The wine! Dear, God, they’d poisoned the wine after all.
He thought of Stephen, who had drunk the fouled brew as well, then of Evard and the rest of his men as he murmured a one word prayer for their safekeeping. If he died—
Even as that thought crossed his mind, the pain in his head subsided. He still felt off-balance, but no longer close to death. Either he hadn’t drunk enough of the poison to kill himself or the poison was meant to incapacitate rather than to kill. His eyes narrowed as he looked again at Claudia.
She sat up with the sheets tucked beneath her arms, and held both hands to her head. Was she also drugged, or was she mimicking him to make it appear that way? He clenched his jaw. “Get out of my bed!”
“Your bed?” She tried to meet his gaze but her head weaved from side to side and she finally placed one hand over her eyes and clutched the sheets with the other. “Baron, you are in
my
bed.”
He glanced around the room. “Christ!” She was right. Another wave of dizziness caught him off guard. He closed his eyes in an effort to regain his sense of balance. The pounding noise that had plagued him since he awoke suddenly ceased, just as he realized it came from someone banging a fist against the door. The sound of a muffled voice came from the other side.
“Break it down.”
His first instinct was to protect Claudia. He reached automatically for his sword, but it wasn’t in its usual resting place next to the bed. This wasn’t his chamber. Why would his sword be here? And why would he be in bed with Claudia for any reason than to be discovered? The pieces of the puzzle fell together with sickening ease. With a curse, he searched for something to cover himself. He found all the clothes he wore the night before on the floor. He’d worn only a loincloth to bed last eve. Why would his clothing be here and not in his chamber with his damned sword?
More incriminating evidence, came the silent answer. No one would believe that he’d ventured here near-naked. Even as he pulled on his breeks, he noticed that the clothes were flung about as if he’d undressed in great haste. Clever bastards.
He no more than had his pants in place when the door burst open. A half dozen Lonsdale soldiers pushed through the opening, followed by Baron Lonsdale and Bishop Germaine. The soldiers wore Lonsdale tunics and light armor, yet Baron Lonsdale and the bishop still wore long sleeping shirts and dark robes.
“So
this
is how you repay my hospitality!” Baron Lonsdale glared at the bed where Claudia clutched at the sheets to cover herself. “You seduce my niece under my own roof! You will pay for this, Montague, and pay dearly.” He turned to the bishop. “I thought the night guard made some mistake when he reported that Montague came to my niece’s chamber, yet you are my witness to this foul truth.”