“What makes you think I’ve failed? What makes you think I wish to bed her at all?”
“Anyone would have to be blind to believe that.”
Alec gave a non-committal grunt and turned to stride for the keep, while he could still resist the urge to rearrange Dominic’s face. He did not wish to discuss Isabeau with anyone let alone his brother, now or ever.
‘Twas none of his concern.
“Mayhap another has caught her eye.”
Alec’s heart gave a thud.
He swung back around.
“Don’t look at me!” Dominic threw up his hands, appearing as though he might bust his guts. “I haven’t touched her. Though I must admit I was sorely tempted. Most men wouldn’t be able to refuse such a proposition.”
Alec stared back at him, attempting to digest what he was hearing. “She asked you to bed her?”
“Begged would be a better word for it,” Dominic said with a laugh. “But being the loyal brother that I am, I refused.”
Alec endeavored to keep his voice smooth and cool, though he was shaking inside. “‘Tis a good thing, or I’d have broken your neck.”
“Your mistake lies in giving her a choice. She’s your prisoner, or have you forgotten?”
“Nay.
She does her best to remind me every chance she gets,” Alec said, still not quite willing to believe that she’d propositioned his brother but refused him. If she had approached Dominic, who else might she have asked? Beaufort? If so, he would never hear the end of it. She was fast making him look the village idiot.
“I’m not suggesting you force her, just make it clear you’re the only stud available—there’s no other choice.”
“Many thanks.” Alec’s tone turned dry. “Your flattery will soon swell my head.” Was it his imagination or was Dominic enjoying this a little more than he aught?
Dominic lifted one brow. “There was a time you could coax a maid to your bed with no more than a wink.”
“’Tis not that simple,” Alec said, vexation rising within him. But Dominic was right. He could wait. When she realized none would help her spoil herself for Newbury, she’d have no choice but to come to him.
“Nay, but you’ll save her from Newbury out of the goodness of your heart anyway.” Dominic gave a loud chortle.
“Such kindness.
If she’s as grateful as Hilda, you’ll surely go deaf.”
Alec stiffened. “Beaufort’s tongue runs more rampant than my lust.” He sucked in a long breath in an attempt to control his temper. Dominic could laugh all he wanted, but he would prevail.
“And you fear I’m hell-bound, when in truth you’re a worse rogue than I. Admit it. You want her for your mistress.”
“I only take what she’s willing to offer,” Alec blurted, finally goaded into an admission. “If not me, ‘twill
be
someone else. She’s determined in this.”
“Or, you could save her in a more honorable way—put an end to the alliance once and for all.”
“Why? She’s convinced the loss of her virtue will be enough. I need not use a club to squash a flea.”
“What if she’s wrong?” Dominic spread his hands in the air. “I don’t recall Barak questioning you about her chastity.”
Alec shrugged. “That’s not to say he wouldn’t have asked for proof before he handed over the ransom.”
“If I were Newbury, ‘twould be easy to forget another came first, gazing upon that winsome face.”
“Newbury’s no love sick fool. ’Twill
depend
on how badly he’s in need of Agnew’s protection.”
“Ah ha!”
Dominic pointed a finger at him. “So, you think he’ll marry her anyway.”
“God’s teeth, Dominic!”
The ire rose in Alec’s chest. “How should I know? Press me no further! ‘Tis all I’m prepared to do.” Alec strode past him toward the hall, refusing to feel guilty.
After all ‘twas her plan.
He was doing her a favor.
If it did not turn out as she wished, and Newbury wanted her anyway, ‘twas naught to do with him.
He took the stairs two at a time, envisioning Isabeau as she was that morn tucked beneath the furs upon his bed. A stab of desire crept from his belly to his loins. Never had he gone so long without sating his lust. He told himself ‘twas the demands of his newly acquired holdings, but that was only half the truth.
‘Twas her.
Isabeau of Dawney.
She had cast a spell over him the moment he pulled the hood from her head. He pushed open his bedchamber door,
then
closed it as quietly as a churl.
A fire glowed in the hearth, casting gold shadows across the flags to ignite the pallet where she lay.
She appeared to sleep, yet the silky line of her lips curved in a faint smile. With her hair drawn back from her face in two neat plaits, her delicate features lay exposed to the flickering blue light. She looked innocent, sweet, and exotic all at once.
He turned away, yanking his tunic over his head as he went. She might not have come to him yet, but he could be just as patient as she could be stubborn. He could wait.
‘Twould make victory all the sweeter.
But once shrouded beneath the pelts, she was all he could think of.
He heard his own heartbeat in his ears—imagined it echoing against hers.
His blood sizzled like sap on a blazing log, sliding through his veins to pool between his legs until he broke out in a cold sweat.
Sweet Jesu!
How much more could he take?
“My lord?”
His heart gave a loud thump.
His eyes popped open.
Was he dreaming?
Or was she actually standing beside his bed?
Isabeau hugged her body for warmth, trying to ignore the wild thump of her heart. After waffling all day, pride had finally won out. In the end, she could not bring herself to confide in Gwen or anyone else.
‘Twas one thing for the whole castle to suspect her shame—quite another to admit having a choice in the matter.
Dominic’s rejection was shameful enough. She dared not risk a greater blow to her courage. Or, she would never be able to go through with it.
In a quiet voice, she tried again, “My lord? Are you awake?”
Fortin rose on his elbows to regard her with an artless look of disbelief. “Mayhap I should ask you the same.”
“I…I wondered if you would, I mean could…” Her words trailed off as her courage fled.
“Yea?”
“Spare another pelt?”
He sent her a long look, the faint edge of a smile clinging to his lips. “Is that all?”
She nodded, her whole body trembling, not just with fear but with something else. Why must he look at her that way—so intensely, as though he would pluck the words from her mouth?
“If you’re cold,” he said in a mild tone, patting the bed. “Sleep here with me?”
Her skin grew hot.
Sleep?
They both knew she would not be sleeping if she climbed beneath the pelts with him.
She sucked in a long ragged breath,
then
took a step forward.
But that was as far as she got—one step before her courage fled.
Nay, she could not.
She spun back around, intent on retreating to her pallet, away from the hungry look in his eyes—away from him.
But once there, encased beneath the furs, she could not sleep. His presence seemed to call to her from across the room—every breath, every creak of the bed, made her body grow tense.
When his breathing settled into a regular rhythm, signaling he slept, she rose to curl herself in the chair by the fire under a wolf pelt.
What was wrong with her? ‘Twas foolish to allow her fears to rule her head. Hilda made much of her living sharing her body with men—happily it seemed, with little conscience. Lara held the freedom to choose a worthy mate, and was quite determined to do so. Why should she not take her future into her own hands? How difficult could it be? After all, she must only do it once.
Her gaze strayed to the bed.
‘Twas empty.
She sat upright in the chair.
The fresh scent of wind mingled with leather alerted her to his presence before she turned her head. Fortin stood behind her in the shadows, his golden skin glowing in the firelight cast from the clear blue flames, gaze steady—as still as a beast of prey.
Isabeau’s breath hitched in her throat.
She froze, stricken with awe at the sight of his sleek body and the hard muscles, straining beneath his golden skin. He oozed strength and power and something else that made delicious prickles dance over her skin.
His deep chuckle yanked her back to reality. “We both know why you can’t sleep.”
She sucked in a quick gulp of air, averting her gaze to the glowing embers. The little blue and orange flames seemed to leap from the logs to lick over her flesh. Her heart tapped loud in her breast.
“’Tis the same reason that keeps me awake.” He reached out a hand to fondle one of her long braids.
She edged away, unsettled—confused by his touch.
“’Tis not the same.”
“Mayhap for different reasons,” he said, tracing one long finger along the nape of her neck and down her shoulder. “But we both want the same thing.”
She shivered.
He was right.
They did want the same thing, so why not take advantage of what he was offering—get it over with. According to Maggie, losing one’s virtue could happen in a blink, as fast as eating a piece of cake—popping a sweetmeat into your mouth. Had she not warned her of that many times? Hopefully ‘twas true, for she was anxious to see it done.
Ever so slowly she rose from the chair to face him. “Very well,” she said on a trembling breath, squaring her shoulders. “I’m ready.”
He moved closer into the firelight—
close
enough to touch.
Her gaze flicked downward to his manhood standing thick and hard to his belly. She had never seen a man fully naked, though she had often wished she possessed the same body which afforded them so many privileges. But now she wasn’t so certain. As impressive as it looked, an appendage such as that must surely prove awkward, like a confused tail, poking out in the wrong direction.
Her gaze darted back to the bemused smile on his face.
“Not to worry, my lady. I’m fully intact and capable of seeing the deed done.”
“Yea, Hilda told me,” she blurted, taking a step back.
He lifted a brow, closing the distance between them in a thrice.
“Told you what?”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, dropping her gaze to his chin.
Rot!