Page 31

A s soon as the door shut behind her, Isabella ran to her sister’s side and sobbed.

“What is it?” Adelaide said weakly, her voice little more than a croak.

“I’m marrying Lord James,” Isabella confessed, hating every word. “Martin agreed to an annulment.”

“But why?” Adelaide took her hand. Her sister’s skin was burning with fever.

“Lord James said he would take his vengeance on you if I didn’t convince Martin to let me go.” He’d said Martin wouldn’t agree if he thought she was asking because either of them was threatened. So he’d threatened her sister instead, the cold-hearted snake.

“I had to go through with it. I had to go down to the dungeon and put on the show of a lifetime, convincing Martin that I never cared for him and that it was all a ruse to goad Lord James into making a better offer. And God forgive me, it worked.”

“No,” Adelaide whispered, squeezing her hand.

“Yes. He said the words, and he meant them.” She’d done her very best to look cold and aloof. Did he know her heart was breaking beneath it all? Did he understand the pain each word had caused her?

“Then find a way to fix it.” Her sister’s earnest gaze broke Isabella’s heart all over again. The choices before her were impossible. Even Adelaide should be able to see that.

“If only I could.” More tears dripped down Isabella’s cheeks.

“You can,” Adelaide said, barely audible. “You’re my sister. You’re too strong and smart to let this happen. You’ll find a way. I know you will. You must .”

“Rest, my sweet. Don’t worry yourself about me. You just focus on getting better, all right?” Her sister’s blind faith in her abilities was almost as painful as Martin’s words in the dungeon. She’d let everyone down, and she couldn’t see a way out.

Adelaide nodded against the pillow and closed her eyes. Isabella smoothed her hair back and watched her breathing slow to a deep and regular cadence.

Exhaustion weighed Isabella down as the events of the day played over and over in her mind, but she knew there would be no sleep for her tonight.

The horror of it all was too much, and she couldn’t let go of the tiny sliver of hope that maybe her sister was right.

Maybe she could find a way out of this if she could only clear her mind enough to think.

Perhaps she didn’t need to come up with the entire plan on her own. If she could find a way to see Martin, they could think together. Surely between the two of them, they were clever enough to come up with a plan.

She got up and went over to her chest of clothing, pulling out her plainest woolen gown and an unadorned brown wool cloak with a deep hood. Quickly, she put them on, before she could reconsider this rash plan.

Slipping out the door, she snuck out into the hallway. Which door was Martin’s? He had to be here somewhere, but she couldn’t risk waking the wrong person. Then she spotted the room at the end with the dozing guard by the door. That had to be it.

Tiptoeing, she made her way down the hall. The guard was snoring and smelled of alcohol. She prayed he stayed unconscious. Reaching up, she began to unlatch the door, but the scrape of metal against metal made just enough sound that the guard was startled awake.

“Who are you?” the guard grumbled.

Isabella’s heart nearly stopped. “The healer sent me. I’m supposed to change Lord Martin’s bandages.”

The guard blinked at her. For a long moment, Isabella hardly dared breathe. If she was caught sneaking into Martin’s chamber, heaven only knows what Lord James would do.

At last, he said, “All right. Go in.” Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes.

She eased into the room as quietly as she could manage. And closed the door behind her.

“Who is it?” Lord Martin asked from across the pitch-black room.

She heard the rustling of bedclothes and the rasp of a flint, and then the light of a candle filled the room with soft, flickering light.

Martin was sitting up in bed, bare from the waist up, eyes wide and wary.

Suddenly, she was far too warm, despite the chill of the night.

She threw back her hood, and he gasped. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a barely audible whisper.

Rushing to his side, she sat on the bed and lowered her lips to his ear. “Lord James made me say what I did by threatening Adelaide. I didn’t have any choice, I swear.”

“I believe you, my love,” he whispered back, caressing her cheek and kissing her ever so softly on the lips. The slow sweetness robbed her of any coherent thought. She felt the loss keenly when he pulled away. “I knew he had to be manipulating you somehow.”

He was so warm and close, and he smelled of the sea and sunshine. He must have washed himself because all traces of the dust, blood, and sweat from the fight earlier were gone. She wanted to drown herself in the comfort of his arms, but there was no time.

“I don’t know what to do. With Adelaide so ill and now in danger from Lord James, I can hardly think straight. I was hoping if we worked together, we might come up with a plan to escape this awful mess.”

“You mean to tell me you haven’t figured it all out with that magnificent mind of yours?” There was a playful look in his eye that reminded her of their first meeting. How could he tease at a time like this?

“Not yet,” she said, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips.

A wicked half-smile curled his lips. “Then we’ll have to figure it out together because I cannot wait to escape this place and spend weeks on end worshipping you.

You were very brave today. I can’t tell you what it meant that you stayed for the fight and cheered me on, even though you were surrounded by Lord James’s men. I’m starting to think you like me.”

He drew his finger down her cheek and let it trace down her neck and chest, brushing over her hardened nipple.

Desperate hunger flooded her body, and she arched into his touch, even as she knew she couldn’t afford this at the moment. Soon, but not now.

Reluctantly, she pulled back. “Keep your hands to yourself until you propose something,” she murmured. “We have little time and can’t afford to get distracted. Do you have any ideas?”

“So many. Most of them very wicked, but if you’re asking me how to win our freedom…”

“You know I am, you tempting devil.”

“Then we need leverage over Lord James. What would bring him to his knees? What would make all his dreams turn to ash? You know him better than I do. What does he fear most?”

She turned it over in her mind. What would make Lord James quiver in his boots? “He fears losing his position. He’s stayed neutral in this war for fear of choosing wrongly and ending up with nothing.”

Martin grinned. “Then we’ll have to make sure he loses if he doesn’t let us go. He wants to be Henry’s exchequer, does he not? Let’s draft a letter to the duke saying Lord James is plotting against him with King Stephen.”

Interesting idea. How could she build on it? “Let’s also draft a letter to King Stephen saying he’s plotting with the Duke of Normandy. That way he loses everything and has no one to run to.”

Martin’s gaze glinted with appreciation. “Have I told you I love how your mind works?”

Heavens, what she wouldn’t do to have him look at her like that forever. But she had to stay on task. “How does it help us, though? It’s not as if he’d ever let us send such missives.”

“True, but…” He paused, thinking. “How would he know if these letters exist? All we must do is tell him we’ve smuggled them out and that the letters will go out if he doesn’t release us by sundown.”

That could work. But… “What if he calls our bluff?”

“Hmm.” He placed a distracting hand on her thigh, which she plucked off immediately as though burned. But it was too late. Flames licked up her leg to her core, even at that light touch.

“Not until we’re done planning,” she murmured through gritted teeth.

He gave her an innocent look, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing to her. “Does he know Lady Eleanor wants Adelaide to take your place as her lady-in-waiting?”

She sat up and studied his face. “I didn’t think it would be a good idea to disclose that part until after we were wed. He knows I want to keep Adelaide with me but nothing more. Why?”

“Can you fake Lady Eleanor’s hand?”

“Yes, but why?” She’d drafted enough correspondence on Her Grace’s behalf that she could duplicate her handwriting well enough to fool any but the most discerning observers.

“Do you think you could draw up a letter from Lady Eleanor demanding that I deliver Adelaide to her personally? Let’s put a deadline on it too.

Something soon. Easter, perhaps? He’d have no choice but to let her go, not if he wants to avoid angering Her Grace.

We’ll offer to have my men take her, and once she’s safely out of the castle, we’ll tell him about the letters. ”

She frowned. Could that work? Would the earl let Adelaide go on the basis of a letter from Lady Eleanor? It would certainly put him in a bind. He could hardly ingratiate himself to her if he was directly defying her wishes. But still…

“I’m not sure the letters by themselves would be enough for him to let her go, but perhaps the letters in combination with an offer from me to tell him everything he wants to know to become exchequer if he lets her go would convince him? It’s risky, but I don’t see that we have a choice.”

“Then it’s a plan,” he said, eyes darkening. “And now I can touch you.”

“Wait,” she ordered as his hand traced up her leg. “I have letters to write first.”

She pulled away and went over the desk in the corner of the room, which, fortunately, was stocked with parchment, quills, and ink.

Doing her best to ignore Martin’s heated gaze, she wrote the letters they’d discussed, including the one she forged in Lady Eleanor’s handwriting.

“There. Finished. Have a servant deliver the letter from Lady Eleanor to me first thing tomorrow, and I’ll take it down to him, distraught at the thought of saying goodbye to my sister.

And I’ll find a way to sneak the other two to your men.

I want Adelaide safely out of this castle before we tell him of the letters to the king and the duke. ”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning.

She rose and went to his side, wondering what he was up to now.

He reached out and caught her hand. Kissing the inside of her wrist, he reached beneath her cloak with his other hand and grazed down the side of her breast, his thumb brushing against her sensitive nipple.

Holy Mother of God, she was going to go up in flames!

“This is the first time we’ve been alone together in a fully private place since our wedding night.

It would be such a shame to waste the opportunity.

” His thumb kept making slow circles around her nipple, and she thought she might die.

“I can tell by the way you’re looking at me you that you’re as hungry for me as I am for you. ”

“No, I’m not,” she answered, hearing the lie in her own voice.

He pulled her down into a kiss, and she surrendered all too easily, letting him addle her wits with lips and tongue until she no longer knew which way was up. “I have ways of making you confess,” he murmured against her lips before claiming them again.

“Oh? Are you going to put me on the rack?” she asked when he relented at last.

“Far worse than that. Come lie beside me. I need you closer.”

To her consternation, she found herself obeying, slipping off her shoes, and climbing onto the bed to lie beside him. “This is dangerous. What if the guard comes in?”

“You’ll just have to stay very, very quiet while I torture you. Do you think you can do that, Isabella?”

He was kissing down her neck, and she never wanted him to stop. Reaching down, he pulled her dress just high enough to draw slow, lazy circles on her calf. Desire rippled through her. She wanted more, though precisely what she wanted more of, she couldn’t say.

“I’m stronger than you think. You’re a fool if you believe you can break me.” She squirmed beneath his ministrations, restless with the heat coursing through her.

His hand moved higher on her leg, still making slow circles.

He brushed the sensitive skin behind her knee, and she gasped.

She wanted to feel him everywhere. With wild abandon, she explored his bare chest and back.

How could a man be so hard and soft at the same time?

Muscles rippled beneath delicious expanses of smooth skin, and she wanted to caress every inch.

“ Mmm ,” he murmured into her neck. “Keep that up, and I’ll sentence you to twenty lashes with my tongue.”

“And where would you whip me, you scoundrel?”

He grinned and ran his hand up her thigh and she opened herself to his touch, craving so much more.

The buzzing heat between her legs was growing almost intolerable.

“Make it forty lashes for asking impudent questions. I’ll whip you where you are most sensitive, where the mere touch of my tongue will shatter your resolve into a thousand pieces.

” Fingers grazed against damp curls between her legs.

Where had all the moisture come from? She could feel it on the insides of her thighs. It was rather embarrassing.

She tried to scoot away, but he pulled her back.

“Do you trust me?” he said, suddenly serious.

“Completely,” she answered without hesitation. It was incredible how quickly he had gained her trust, given how they had started, but after everything that had befallen them, after he had sworn to keep her sister safe and then fought for her against Lord James, her faith in this man was absolute.

His finger slid between her folds, just as they had in the dovecote, and brushed over the nub of flesh that sent an explosion of sparks through every part of her body.

Unable to help herself, she moaned, and he sealed his lips to hers to swallow the noise, as if he knew she would be unable to hold back.

“And now,” he whispered against her lips, “let the torture begin.”