|
TAMING THE LION
By
Marilyn Grall
ISBN 1-891020-14-5
Copyright 1997, Marilyn Grall
Cover Art by Eliza Black
New Concepts Publishing
4729 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
OTHER NCP TITLES BY MARILYN GRALL:
In Search of Amanda
Conquest of the Heart
Chapter One
England, 1109
He was called The Lion. Sir Lionel of Freemont stood nearly six and a half feet tall, with incredibly broad shoulders, a trim waist and lean, powerful hips. He could move with the disciplined grace of a feline, and could kill his prey with savage ruthlessness.
His hair was an unruly, tawny mane, his eyes golden-brown, fringed by darker lashes and eyebrows.
The Lion rarely--if ever--smiled, and yet he was relatively satisfied with his life...until the summons came.
Lionel was a formidable warhorse, a well-trained killing machine. Unfortunately, he was also four and thirty and had recently been injured, resulting in a right knee which was no longer reliable; it would simply give out at the most inopportune moments.
When the summons arrived, Lionel was waging war, fighting a band of vicious renegade knights, enemies of his overlord.
The smell of blood was thick in his nostrils as he swung his heavy broadsword, cleanly killing his opponent, then turned his huge stallion to meet the next enemy.
To his left, Lionel saw one of his men falter as he tried to fend off four renegades at once. "To me!" Lionel shouted, and five of his knights galloped toward the faltering man, Lionel leading the way.
Sensing imminent defeat, the four renegades tried to escape, but two of their sweating, frenzied horses reared, toppling their riders. One of those horses stumbled and fell in the blood-slicked grass, hideously crushing his own master; the other galloped to relative safety, leaving his rider to the massive hooves of Thunder, Lionel's warhorse.
Breathing heavily, covered with sweat and gore, Lionel and his men defeated the remaining two renegades who had attempted escape, then turned to seek more foes, bloodlust singing through their veins.
The men under Lionel's command fought in perfect synchronization. He had trained most of them personally, and he was proud of their unwavering strength. The renegades would be defeated; of that he had no doubt. It was simply a matter of time.
Battlefields had been The Lion's home--his life--for nearly twenty years. He knew no other profession than soldiering; he wanted nothing else in his life save defending the earldom in war.
The sun reached its zenith as the battle raged on, the sounds of creaking leather, steel against steel and horrid screams of agony filling the air. Lionel and his men hacked and severed their way to victory, christening their mighty swords with fresh blood again and again.
A hush fell over the battlefield as Lionel sent a final man to the devil, and only then did he realize that the fighting was done.
Breathing deeply now, purposely calming himself, Lionel of Freemont surveyed the grisly field. No renegades were standing, but only a few of his own men had suffered more than minor wounds. Two or three of his felled enemies were clinging to life, but Lionel knew from the nature of their wounds that they would be mercifully dead before long.
The drama of life and death had been played out to the full. The winners had won, the losers had lost. There was naught left to do now but return to camp and wash off the heavy stench of death.
Grimly satisfied that once again, his lord's enemies had been vanquished, Lionel supervised the litters carrying his wounded men from the field, then turned his horse in the direction of his campaign tent. Upon reaching his temporary lodgings, Lionel reined in and dismounted with an easy grace that belied the weight of his chain mail, broadsword and shield.
And then his right knee gave out, and he found himself sprawled in the dirt.
"God's blood!" Lionel cursed, disdaining the help of his young squire, Oliver, and quickly rising to his feet. Only Oliver had witnessed that particular humiliation, but Lionel felt the shame of it all the way to his soul. Of course, once the knee had reminded him of its weakened condition, it returned to its normal function, as if nothing had happened at all.
But The Lion knew what had happened. The knee had proven once again that it was more powerful than the rest of the beast. If he had been fighting on foot when the damnable thing gave out, Lionel knew without a doubt that he would have been the one slain instead of the one doing the slaying.
It was an ignoble, humiliating weakness, and Lionel of Freemont knew all too well that it would soon cause the end of his soldiering career.
But he was not retiring from soldiering today, he reminded himself determinedly. Today he had been victorious, and the aftermath of battle was hot and heavy in his blood. What he needed now was to be relieved of his armor, to have a tankard of stout ale, and to find release from the stress of battle through the many talents of his favorite camp whore.
Waging war was his profession--and The Lion was exceedingly good at what he did--but he would be more a beast than a man if he didn't feel the weight of death that surrounded every battlefield.
He had been fortunate today...none of his men had died.
And having his battle-worn soul put back together was just what Lionel was doing when the Earl of Marlborough's message was delivered.
"God's breath, but you have talented hands, Liza," he rumbled contentedly.
"My only aim is to please, milord," Liza replied with a smile.
"Oh, you're doing that all right, wench," Lionel assured her. "With talent like yours, I'll soon forget this damnable soreness in my back. Victorious battle does have its price."
Less than an hour earlier, Lionel's squire had stripped him of his chain mail, and the sweet little whore had stripped him of the rest of his clothing, soon washing away the evidence of battle with the nimble hands he'd just complimented. Now Lionel was lying on his stomach, having muscles stiffened from wielding a broadsword for hours on end massaged with an exotic oil. His thoughts had turned from battle to far more pleasurable ones concerning the sweet whore's other talents, when Oliver returned.
The young man's eyes widened in appreciation as he lifted the flap and walked into Sir Lionel's tent. His master was naked, but that, of course, was not what had caught the youth's interest. It was the fact that the woman massaging Sir Lionel's broad, muscled back was also nude that had Oliver licking his lips and feasting his eyes on the delectable sight.
"What is it, Oliver?" Lionel grunted without ever lifting his head.
Startled that Sir Lionel knew he was there even before he opened his mouth, Oliver nearly dropped the parchment held in his sweaty hands. " 'Tis a message from the earl," he said hoarsely.
Lionel sighed heavily and rolled onto his side. "Give it to me, Oliver."
The squire swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, as he approached Sir Lionel, then handed him the rolled parchment.
"That will be all," Lionel said firmly, and Oliver stumbled backwards out of the tent.
Liza watched Sir Lionel's starkly handsome, though perpetually serious features darken even more as he read the short missive. "Is it bad news, Sir Lionel?" she asked in her sultry, deep voice.
"Mayhap," Lionel answered, then amended that statement with, "Probably." He tossed the parchment to the ground, then lay down on his back, folding his arms behind his head. "I've been called home."
"Is that all?" Liza asked, reaching for one muscled thigh and massaging it with strong, deep motions.
" 'Tis enough," Lionel replied. "There's only one reason for the earl to call me back ahead of my men." And Lionel knew that reason only too well. He'd been expecting it ever since the knee injury. The earl was going to force him into retirement from the field.
He saw Liza move to his other leg, her well-rouged lips smiling as she noticed his reaction to her thigh massage. "Will you be leaving tonight?" she asked in a husky purr, moving her hands closer still to his burgeoning need.
"Not tonight, sweet wench," Lionel said, suddenly grasping her hands and putting them exactly where he wanted them. "I'll leave at first light. But this may be the last night we ever have together."
"Well then," Liza said, as he watched her lean down to kiss his arousal and felt her long raven tresses caressing his thighs, "let's make it a night to remember, Sir Lionel."
Lionel growled with pleasure as Liza serviced him with practiced eagerness, but he eventually pulled her over his body and then rolled on the cot until she was beneath him. "I promise you, Liza," he murmured thickly as he thrust sure and deep, "I will make this a night you will never forget."
Tomorrow, he would ride to Marlborough Castle and undoubtedly be put out to pasture. But tonight, The Lion was in his element, having been victorious in battle and having a willing wench to slake his sexual needs.
At this moment, the beast and the man were in perfect harmony. The beast could cool the hot bloodlust of battle by dominating a female, and the man could thoroughly enjoy the sexual release Liza was so very capable of giving him.
Liza moaned with wanton delight as The Lion lived up to his name, becoming supremely aggressive and domineering, whispering erotic demands that she quickly obeyed. Liza was in her element, too, as the magnificent male animal took her to the heights of ecstasy more times than she could count, demanding every lusty response her body could possibly give.
It was indeed a night that she would never forget, for well before dawn, Liza had determined that she simply could not let The Lion ride out of her life forever.
Early the next morning, leaving the knights under his command to break camp and follow as soon as the wounded could travel, Lionel set out for Marlborough Castle, accompanied by his squire. The pace Lionel set would be impossible for the full contingency of soldiers to maintain, even without wounded men, so he probably would be at the castle three or four days before the rest of his men arrived.
Thoughts of his men, however, were not uppermost in Lionel's mind as he topped the rise overlooking Marlborough Castle. The formidable fortress lay in a valley, the keep a huge, square building of gray stone. The curtain wall surrounding the bailey was twenty feet thick, as immovable and unchanging as any decision the earl might make. And that's what Lionel's troubled thoughts were about--the decision the earl had undoubtedly made concerning his future.
Lionel had dressed appropriately for the meeting with his overlord, donning a deep-brown velvet tunic, heavily embroidered with golden thread at neckline and hem. Beneath the tunic, his muscular legs were encased in starkly black hose, and his gartered boots had been cleaned with spittle and vigorous rubbing by Oliver. His shoulder-length tawny mane was held back by a leather thong, and his stern, angular face was clean-shaven. The heavy sword at his side, and the pendant around his neck bearing the crest of Marlborough, completed the attire.
After sitting on the rise long enough to tamp down his desire to be anywhere else but here right now, Lionel set his horse to a gallop, riding toward the castle with firm determination. If his future was about to change, by the rood, he would meet that future with courage.
The Earl of Marlborough, a man of considerable bulk and greying hair, greeted Sir Lionel of Freemont congenially, almost paternally--as well he should since Lionel was his son...his bastard son, to be more exact.
Lionel was the product of a tryst with a fetching kitchen maid when the now-portly earl had been a strapping lad of sixteen. And though Lionel had been raised at Freemont Castle, one of the earldom's vast holdings and the home of Lionel's mother, Lionel had always known of his paternity.
Lionel was the earl's oldest son, but he would never inherit the title. The earl's only other child, Lionel's younger half-brother, an exceedingly disappointing man named Randolph, would inherit everything since he was legitimately born.
The earl had never tried to keep Lionel's parentage a secret, and, being fully aware of his bastardy for all of his life, Lionel had vowed at a very young age to be the best of the best at everything he did. Earl James, having succeeded the old Earl of Marlborough barely two years after Lionel's birth, had provided a comfortable lifestyle for Lionel's mother and ample training--even tutors--for his illegitimate son.
By Earl James' estimation, the money had been well spent, as Lionel had achieved knighthood at the nearly unheard of age of fifteen and had also excelled in his studies, becoming proficient in several languages and gaining a scholar's understanding of ancient Greek and Roman writings.
More important to the protection of the earldom, he had also become The Lion--a formidable beast of an opponent on the battlefield.
"Have a seat, Lionel," the earl said, gesturing to a chair large enough to hold the huge man he truly wished was his legitimate heir.
"I have come as you requested, Earl James," Lionel replied with formality. His tone of voice clearly told the earl that Lionel suspected he would not like the outcome of this meeting.
"Aye, so you have," Earl James replied, taking the seat across from his son. He had always wanted Lionel to address him as father, but the younger man insisted on keeping his emotional distance, adhering to the formal title.
Not that Earl James could blame his son for that. The stigma of being raised the bastard son of a powerful earl had hardened Lionel's heart against familial alliances, even though Mary of Freemont, Lionel's mother, had been well treated.
Though it was impossible for Earl James to marry the pretty wench who had given him her innocence--and her love--just as soon as she admitted she was carrying his child, Mary had been given comfortable rooms at Freemont Castle. All her needs--as well as those of her son--had always been met.
Even so, Earl James realized that Lionel was sorely aware of the differences between his mother's life and that of the woman the earl had eventually married. Mary had been caught in the gray area of society, having been seduced by a nobleman but having no hope of elevating her own status beyond that of a freed serf.
Those very differences had led to Lionel's own distaste of marriage--any marriage, either arranged or freely sought.
Earl James sighed deeply, watching his son settle his massive frame into the carved wooden chair. What he was about to order Lionel to do would not please him, but that could not be helped. Lionel was the best man for this particular job, and Earl James must think of the safety of his people first; the love he felt for his oldest--albeit illegitimate--son, second.
"Your missive ordered me to return here immediately, my lord," Lionel said. "May I inquire why?"
"I have need of your services," Earl James replied. "In fact, I have immediate need of you."
"And what is this need?"
"I have made a decision concerning your future, son. A very important decision."
Lionel rose from his chair. "You are relieving me of my command because of the knee injury, aren't you, my lord?"
Any other knight would have been chastised for such an insolent manner, but Earl James understood his son's anger--and frustration--only too well.
"Not exactly, Lionel," he answered quietly. "Your knights will be going with you...to Larkspur Castle."
"Larkspur Castle?" asked Lionel, sitting down again abruptly and meeting his father's gaze. "What has Larkspur Castle to do with my future?"
"It has everything to do with it, Lionel." He paused for a moment. "Because you are to be the new lord of Larkspur."
"But Larkspur Castle is Sir John's holding--"
"Sir John died a fortnight ago, while you were busy hunting those renegades you so soundly defeated, Lionel."
Under other circumstances, Lionel would have appreciated the compliment from his father. But at the moment, all he could think about was the fact that he was indeed being forced to retire from battlefield service. Added to that, to become the lord of Larkspur Castle, he would have to marry Sir John's daughter, the heiress to that holding. And marriage was the last thing Lionel ever wanted to do with his life.
"Exactly what are you saying, Earl James?" he finally asked.
"I suspect you already know what I'm saying, Lionel," the earl replied. "You will be wed to Lady Alexandra of Larkspur...thereby becoming the lord and protector of a strategic property in this earldom."
"I understand how important it is to defend Larkspur Castle, my lord, since its oceanside proximity could give access to England's shores by our enemies. But why must I be the one to take on this duty?"
"Because of your unsurpassed reputation, son," Earl James said with unqualified pride. "No one would dare attack a castle protected by The Lion."
"Earl James, you know I would much prefer defending the earldom on the battlefield."
"Aye, Lionel, I know that very well. When was the last time your knee gave out?"
The sudden question threw Lionel off his guard. "Yesterday," he answered tersely. Even if he had been prepared for the question, he could not have lied to his overlord--his own father.
"My point exactly, Lionel," said Earl James. "But there is also a secondary reason why I want you to become the new lord of Larkspur."
"And what is that?"
Earl James heaved his stout frame out of the chair and crossed to a window, its shutters open to admit the cool breeze. From this vantage point, Lionel knew his father could see a good deal of his farmland. Lionel could easily envision the verdant fields bursting with ripening crops, and the industrious labors of his father's serfs. The sight undoubtedly brought the man a measure of comfort, and his continued attention to the scene told Lionel quite clearly that the earl was reluctant to go on. Lionel finally repeated his question, and the earl turned back to him.
"I know you've never met Lady Alexandra, Lionel, but she is a lovely young woman--really not much more than a child. However, she needs...shall we say...a firm hand to guide her?"
Lionel bristled. "What's wrong with the chit, my lord?" he asked bluntly.
"Nothing that a strong husband won't cure," Earl James replied evasively.
Lionel said nothing to that, but he had a strong suspicion of what his father would say next.
Earl James continued, proving Lionel's suspicions were right on the mark. "She's a...well, she's rather willful...a tomboy, to be exact," he said.
"Just how old is this willful little tomboy?" Lionel asked.
"Seventeen."
"Seventeen?" Lionel roared, springing from his chair. "I realize that is a marriageable age, Earl James, but the child is only half my age!"
"I do not believe she is a child any longer," Earl James said quietly, not meeting his son's eyes.
Lionel's face darkened with anger. "Are you telling me, my lord," he began through clenched teeth, "that not only will I be forced to wed a child who behaves like a boy, but also that she will not even be virginal on the wedding night?"
That thought was totally repugnant to Lionel. He didn't blame his mother for what she had done. She had been very young--and very much in love--after all. But she nevertheless regretted her sin of passion and had taught Lionel in no uncertain terms that a young woman's chastity was not to be violated.
Consequently, Lionel had made an iron-clad rule in his own life to use only professional harlots for his sexual needs. A whore was supposed to be experienced. A bride was supposed to be virginal.
Earl James replied, "I am not certain of that, Lionel. 'Tis just that her father raised her without a mother's love and guidance, as his wife died giving birth to the girl and he never remarried. Alexandra has been taught all the ways of young men, but very little of the ways of a gently-bred lady."
Lionel raised a tawny brow, clearly showing his disdain. "So, the girl knows more about weapons and horses than she does about child rearing and cooking. Is that about it, Earl James?"
"Aye," the earl replied. "But she's a highly intelligent girl, Lionel, and it's actually quite natural that she'd know something about horses, since that's what Larkspur produces--fine horse flesh. I'm quite sure the girl will be pliable, able to change her willful ways...with the proper guidance, of course. And besides that, son, you will at least have a comfortable home. While Alexandra's main achievements are, unfortunately, in manly pursuits, I understand she is also a worthy chatelaine of her father's castle. She may not know how to sew a straight seam, but she certainly knows how to order it done."
Lionel sank down in his chair again as full realization dawned. "My lord, I think you are telling me that, in addition to being put out to pasture at Larkspur Castle, you have chosen me to tame this...this tomboy."
"Yes," his father replied honestly, "though I wouldn't call defending Larkspur Castle being 'put out to pasture.'"
Lionel grunted at that and shook his head in defeat. "I will, of course, do your bidding, my lord," he said with as much grace as possible. "How long do I have before this wedding takes place?"
"About one hour."
"What?"
"You see, Lionel," Earl James explained, "just as soon as her father was buried, I secured Alexandra's signature on a marriage contract. As her guardian and overlord, it is my right to marry her to whomever I choose...by proxy."
"She signed a marriage contract without knowing who her husband would be?"
"Of course. Alexandra sees the necessity of defending her castle. As I said before, she's a highly intelligent girl. By wedding you to her by proxy today, the word will go out that Larkspur Castle is now under the formidable protection of The Lion. That is the main reason for the hasty wedding."
Lionel heaved a sigh of resignation. "Very well, my lord," he said. "Let's get the thing done, then...as quickly and painlessly as possible."
Earl James smiled for the first time during the entire conversation. "I'm really quite fond of Alexandra, you know, despite her willful ways." He clapped a hand to his son's massive shoulder. "Now, not only will Larkspur Castle be protected from potential enemies, but Alexandra will learn how to be a proper lady, a dutiful and obedient wife. I have no doubt at all that you will see to that, Lionel."
Lionel said nothing. Obviously, his fate was sealed.
Within an hour he found himself exchanging vows with a woman he had never met, who had been chosen to represent Lady Alexandra. Of course, he would have been exchanging vows with a stranger, anyway, so that part of the marriage ceremony did not bother him in the least.
What did bother him was that within a week, he would be taking over a castle he didn't really want--and taming a little tomboy who very likely was not even a chaste maiden.
In Lionel of Freemont's opinion, he had his work cut out for him.
Chapter Two
Larkspur Castle was resplendent with springtime. Soft ocean breezes cooled the high cliff upon which it stood, with gentle seaside grasses swaying in the wind. Sea gulls could be seen swooping and gliding over the sun-kissed blue ocean, and peace seemed to reign supreme.
The peaceful quietude was abruptly broken by the sound of galloping horses and a triumphant cry of victory, as Lady Alexandra of Larkspur reined in her snorting, blowing stallion just inches short of the cliff's edge.
"I won again!" she declared with another cry of triumph. "Just as I told you I would, Sir Thomas."
"Aye, Lady Alex," the knight replied, trying to catch his breath. "But did you have to nearly ride over the edge of the cliff, my lady? You've scared me out of at least a year of my life!"
Alex--as Alexandra preferred to be called--only laughed at that, fully enjoying challenging death at every opportunity.
Sir Thomas shook his dark mop of hair, realizing Lady Alex would always get her way--no matter what anyone told her about the dangers of her many exploits. She was a tantalizingly beautiful girl, with long auburn hair and lively green eyes that clearly bespoke her Irish heritage. Her father, Sir John--God rest his soul--had married the daughter of an Irish nobleman, and Alexandra had inherited her mother's striking beauty.
Sir Thomas also realized that Lady Alex had been pushing her daringness to the limit these past two weeks since signing a marriage contract, knowing her wings would soon be clipped by a husband.
Sir Thomas felt mixed emotions about the husband the Earl of Marlborough would choose for Lady Alex. On the one hand, the man would be blessed with a spirited, lively young wife. On the other, he would soon find that Lady Alex could be the most stubborn, willful, exasperating young girl the Good Lord ever placed on this earth.
Sir Thomas shook his head again, in truth more pitying the future husband than envying him. All women, in his opinion, should be like his own dear wife--understanding, obedient and blessedly quiet.
He heard an approaching rider and immediately drew his sword, fully prepared to defend his lady from any and all possible enemies. Since Lady Alex's father died, Larkspur Castle had been the site of a few skirmishes with outlaws--men who instinctively realized that without a lord of the manor, Larkspur Castle was ripe for the picking.
Sir John had had a strong enough reputation to keep them at bay, but, as anyone knew, leaderless household knights were not nearly as effective as those under a lord's command.
Sir Thomas dearly hoped the man Earl James chose for Lady Alex would be a formidable knight of great strength, a man with a reputation as good as--or even better than--Sir John's had been.
The rider approached them cautiously, seeing Sir Thomas's drawn weapon. "I have a missive for Lady Alexandra," he shouted from a safe distance. "From the Earl of Marlborough."
"Come ahead," Sir Thomas said, sheathing his sword, then calming his prancing gelding. The big bay didn't particularly like strangers.
As soon as the young messenger drew rein beside Lady Alex, she took the rolled parchment from his hand and quickly scanned its contents, Sir Thomas waiting patiently at her side. He was fully aware that, unlike most women, Lady Alex was quite adept at reading and writing, as well as being proficient in several foreign languages, thanks to her father's encouragement and patient instruction. He had a strong suspicion what this letter would contain--and he was happy about it--but as Lady Alex read the missive, the color of her face changed from its normal, healthy glow to a sickly pallor.
"What is it, my lady?" Sir Thomas asked. "Bad news?"
"Aye," Alex replied in barely a whisper. "The worst possible news. Earl James has chosen my husband. In fact, I have already been married for several days...by proxy."
"But, my lady, you knew the earl would be wedding you to his choice very soon," Sir Thomas said, still alarmed by the lack of color in Lady Alex's face.
"Of course I knew that, Sir Thomas," Alex replied, crushing the missive in her hand. "I even agreed with his wisdom to marry me to a strong knight as soon as possible for the sake of Larkspur Castle."
"Then what ails you, my lady?" Sir Thomas persisted.
"I need to be alone for a while," Alex said instead of answering his question. "I will ride back to the castle by myself."
"But, my lady--"
"That will be all, Sir Thomas," Alex ordered tersely. "You may leave me now."
"Aye, my lady," Sir Thomas acquiesced, turning his horse around and leaving the cliff's edge. The messenger quietly followed him.
Alex watched Sir Thomas leave, then dismounted and walked to the very edge of the cliff. She sat down despondently. Shock would describe what she felt better than anything else.
The Lion.
Earl James had married her to The Lion, of all men.
Although she had never seen him, Alex knew that Sir Lionel of Freemont was reputed to be a cold-hearted killing machine. Supposedly, no one had ever even seen him smile. He would certainly be a formidable protector for Larkspur Castle, Alex realized, but the other half of his reputation was far worse to Alex than his ruthlessness.
He was rumored to have an insatiable sexual appetite. Alex was not opposed to the sex act per se, but the thought of being married to an insatiable beast was, frankly, alarming.
How had Alex learned of Sir Lionel's bed habits?
Very simple. For the last two years, Alex had been fighting the boredom of castle life in a very unorthodox way. She had been dressing herself as a boy, going to the nearby town, a bustling fishing port called Cliffside, since it was nestled between two towering seaside cliffs, and thoroughly enjoying herself pretending to be an adolescent lad. The sheer freedom a boy, but never a girl, could experience was absolutely exhilarating to Alex.
Her rather tall height and long, slender legs made the disguise easy to believe. She did, however, have to bind her breasts to hide her obviously feminine shape. And her long, auburn hair had to be stuffed under a knit cap; no small feat since the tresses cascaded all the way to her waist when left unbound.
Alex had openly visited taverns, drank stout ale next to brawny men, had even peeked into a brothel once. What she saw there made her blush so hotly, her disguise was nearly discovered. It was in the taverns of Cliffside that Alex had learned of Sir Lionel's sexual prowess.
By reputation, The Lion had been known to take three whores at a time to his room. Then he would send them back down to the tavern, flushed and tousled from a tumble in his bed--and demand three more.
Of course, those were only rumors, Alex rationalized, gazing out at the calm, blue ocean so far below her dangling feet. Surely the man who was now her husband was not really an insatiable beast.
Husband. Aye, now she had a husband. And if his reputation for sternness held true, Sir Lionel would rule the castle--and her--with an iron hand. Alex shuddered at the very thought of bowing to a man's authority. He dear father--whom she missed terribly--had been a very unusual man. He had always respected her mind and opinions, treating her far more like a son than a daughter. The thought of being utterly obedient to her new lord and master was revolting, to say the least. And this particular knight was also the bastard son of Earl James. That fact would surely give him even greater power over her life.
How long do I have before Sir Lionel arrives to take over my life and my castle? Alex mused almost desperately. Reading the missive again, she surmised that the knight would be arriving in another two days.
Only two days of freedom left! Impulsively, Alex mounted her horse again and rode hell bent for the castle. Ignoring the questions of servants and household knights alike, she scurried up the winding stone stairs to her bedchamber. Upon reaching the room, she quickly unfastened the thin golden links of her girdle, tossed it onto the bed, then pulled off her overdress, leaving it in a heap on the floor. Her snug knit underdress soon followed the outer gown, and then her sheer linen shift, stockings and garters were added to the pile. Naked, she padded across the smooth stone floor to the trunk where her disguise was kept.
Once the disguise had sufficiently altered her appearance, she turned to leave the chamber, only then realizing that the jumbled pile of clothes she'd left could cause undue suspicion. Quickly retracing her steps, she picked up her garments, stuffed them into the trunk where her disguise had been, then closed the lid with a determined thud. Now she was ready.
Within minutes, Alex had snuck down the servant's staircase, emerging on the lower level of the castle. No one had noticed her yet, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Convincing her own servants that she was actually a lad might be a little difficult. More determined than ever to succeed, she peeked out the door leading to the kitchen garden, then scurried toward the back wall of the castle, with no one the wiser. She was soon shoving aside the loose bolder in that back wall, a place conveniently hidden by a bush, and moments later she was making her way down the steep hillside leading to Cliffside.
If her freedom was soon to be sharply curtailed, then, by the saints, she was going to enjoy these last two days of uninhibited freedom to the fullest!
Alex had a delightful time in Cliffside. She bought a fresh meat pastie from a street vendor, thoroughly enjoying the flaky crust and succulent filling, licking away the greasy juices that had coated her lips. Still hungry, she then purchased a spicy sausage smothered in onions so aromatic they made tears spring to her eyes--and she laughed, marveling at the unusual sensation.
She boldly swaggered into a tavern, using the gait she had perfected over the years of her adventures, wrinkling her nose at the rank smell of too many unwashed bodies--but ignoring it successfully--then downed two tankards of bitter, dark ale, finally wiping her mouth with the back of her hand--an action sure to convince anyone that she was truly a lad.
She watched two cock fights (which nearly made her retch, but that could have been from the onions) and three bare-fisted brawls (which bothered her not in the least as she cheered on the winners), then very nearly got propositioned as a young man in a brothel. She had decided that, since she was now a married woman, she really should have another peek at the place and learn all that she could. Unfortunately that wasn't very much since a "man" must buy one of those women to learn much of anything, and doing that definitely would have caused discovery of her true gender.
The most fun she had, however, was sneaking aboard a luxuriously outfitted barge moored at the Cliffside pier. How was she to know that it was the royal barge of King Henry's defense minister, and that she could have been hung as a spy for merely sneaking aboard to take a quick look? Luckily--and Alex had always been lucky--the grim-faced guard who had threatened to turn her over to the authorities had taken a few coins in return for his silence. All in all, it had been a rewarding, adventurous, exciting day.
And, of course, near the end of the day, she had gotten thirsty again. So, she had simply stepped into the nearest tavern she could find and downed a few more mugs of ale.
Contented and a little drunk, Alex left the tavern near dusk.
Chapter Three
Lionel of Freemont rode into Cliffside hot, dusty and more than a little out of sorts. He had decided to leave Marlborough Castle before the bulk of his men returned in order to reach Larkspur Castle as quickly as possible, since his father was so concerned about the castle's safety. The trip had been far less than enjoyable, though he had made good time. In fact, he would reach his destination two days earlier than expected. He had been able to gather a dozen knights who had not been involved in the recent battle, and these men accompanied him.
The trip, however, had been beset with pitfalls, with one horse going lame and his squire, Oliver, becoming so ill he had to be placed in a supply cart for the duration of the trip.
And, of course, the thought of where he was going--and why--still bothered Lionel enough that his mood was surly, at best. He understood why his father had forced him into this marriage, and he would carry out his duty faithfully, but he was not looking forward to spending the rest of his days tied to one place, and to one woman--or willful child, to be more exact.
He was well familiar with Cliffside itself, at least by reputation. It depended upon fishing for its main support, but also had a colorful assortment of alehouses and brothels, catering to the fishermen and sailors who made port there. He suspected that the menfolk of Larkspur Castle also found their entertainment in the bawdy village.
It was near dusk, and the torch lighters were already going about their business. His attention was drawn to one particularly bedraggled child standing on tiptoe to light a torch, when a startled cry abruptly drew his attention back to the cobbled street before him. Lionel reined in his horse just in time to avoid hitting a young lad who was swaying slightly as he tried to cross the street, evidently having just left one of Cliffside's seedy taverns. Lionel swore under his breath, realizing the youth could have been killed by flailing hooves if the horse had reared, and if he had been riding his massive, highly spirited warhorse, Thunder, instead of this more docile animal, the lad would surely be dead by now. He signaled his men to rein in and stop, curtly ordering that the drunkard be brought to him.
Intending to give the lad a good dressing down and then take him to his parents for appropriate punishment, Lionel surveyed the boy now being held in the meaty fist of one of his men.
Something was wrong with the picture.
Even in the relatively dim light, Lionel could see that the boy was beautiful, ravishing even, with generous, soft pink lips, eyes the color of new spring grass and a tendril of auburn hair escaping his cap that was simply too long to belong to a boy.
Being suspicious by nature, Lionel easily lifted the "boy" up to his horse, seating the urchin sideways across his thighs. Before the youth could utter a protest, Lionel ripped the knit cap from his head.
Luxuriant auburn waves tumbled to the "boy's" waist.
Needing only one more thing to confirm his suspicions, Lionel held the struggling captive with one arm, reached into "his" coarse linen tunic...and felt the unmistakable evidence of flattened, definitely female breasts.
After uttering a curse that would singe the ears of a sailor, Lionel demanded, "What is your name, wench, and where do you live?"
God's truth, Lionel vowed, he would see that the chit's father punished her soundly for such a deception!
Alexandra of Larkspur was too incensed at that particular moment to be fearful of the blond giant who had nearly run her down and then picked her up like a rag doll...and who was now holding her so easily in his well-muscled arms. She could feel the brick wall of his chest beneath her shoulder, but her thoughts were more on saving her disguise than on the manly attributes of the fierce knight.
Alex was only grateful that it was so nearly dark. No one on the street was taking much notice of what was happening. If she could just free herself from this angry knight's lap, her disguise might not be discovered by anyone but him--and mayhap a few of his men.
With that thought in mind, Alex raised her chin defiantly and glared at the knight. Instead of answering his question, she made a demand of her own. "Release me immediately, you brute!"
He merely cocked one brow and shook his tawny mane. "Your name, wench," he demanded again.
Alex's Irish temper came to the fore. She cursed the knight as foully as he had cursed her, then said hotly, "I am Lady Alexandra of Larkspur, and if you know what is good for you, arrogant swine, you will release me now!"
She saw a look of shock spread across his face for a moment, then the knight growled low in his throat and gave the order for his men to move out. He tightened his hold around her waist instead of releasing her, and Alex's temper flared more hotly than ever.
"Now I demand to know your name!" she ground out between clenched teeth, struggling to free herself from the knight's iron-hard embrace. "You will pay for this, Sir Swine," she continued. "My husband is Sir Lionel of Freemont, also known as The Lion--I'm sure even someone of your obviously low intelligence has heard of him--and I'm quite sure he will see you drawn and quartered for kidnapping his lady wife!"
The stranger made a sound that would have been a laugh if he had not been so grim-faced, and Alex's brows drew together in confusion. Why would the bloody brute laugh at that threat? To her horror, his next words answered that question quite well.
"I am Sir Lionel of Freemont," he said, then added in a clipped, angry voice, "Your new lord and husband."
Alex blanched visibly. And then, purely on impulse...as a move of self-defense...something she didn't really think through very well before doing it...Alex bit her new husband on the hand. Hard enough to draw blood. She quickly slid off his lap when he raised the injured hand to shake it in the air and bellow in pain.
Her only thoughts were of escaping, then quickly returning home. Surely, when he arrived at Larkspur, she could convince him that he had been sorely mistaken in believing that she--a well-bred young lady--had been found in the streets of Cliffside, slightly drunk.
She got about twenty feet before being caught and hauled over her husband's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then unceremoniously carried back to his horse.
"Men have died for less than that, little hellion," he warned in a menacing growl as he mounted and positioned Alex across his lap again.
"Then mayhap I should be glad that I'm not a man, after all," Alex ground out, then gasped as his arm tightened around her. "Must you be so brutish, you great oaf?"
"When the situation calls for it, aye, I must."
Alex then noticed that he had donned leather riding gloves...and she laughed in his face. "Do you really need protection from your own wife, Sir Lionel?" she taunted. "Mayhap you think I can fell The Lion with my sharp little teeth?"
"I suggest, Lady Alexandra," the brute drawled--and Alex knew he'd purposely made her title sound like a slur-- "that you become very quiet and very obedient for the remainder of the ride to Larkspur Castle."
"Or else, my lord?" she asked sarcastically, slurring his title with equal finesse. "Is the mighty knight threatening me?"
"Or else I will bite you back," he answered in such a calm tone that Alex believed him.
And, indeed, for the duration of the trip up the winding cliff path to Larkspur Castle, Alex said not another word, not because she was afraid of Sir Lionel, she told herself, but simply because she needed time to think.
This is my new husband? she asked first. This giant...this beast of a man? Surely, he's not truly a beast, though, is he? she asked secondly. Of course he is! was the unequivocal and frightening answer to both questions. Why else would they call him The Lion if he were not truly a beast?
Alex's thoughts went round and round until she made herself dizzy from the jumbled thoughts. Or mayhap that was simply because she couldn't breathe very well with this damn band of steel just under her breasts!
Lionel's thoughts were churning, too, as he held his own wife captive against his chest. This little hellion who knows the curses of a sailor and bites like a bloody fiend is my delicate lady wife? This is the girl Earl James referred to as being highly intelligent, as being merely a tomboy in need of a firm hand to guide her? Aye, he answered himself regretfully. Alexandra of Larkspur was indeed his wife...his deceitful, belligerent--bordering on violent--hellion of a wife.
And in that moment Lionel decided that a firm hand was exactly what Alexandra would get...to her backside! He had been instructed to tame the chit, and tame her he would. By Christ's blood, the hellcat had actually bitten him!
Just before reaching the castle, Lionel drew rein and stopped his horse.
"Why are we stopping here?" Alex asked, finally breaking her silence.
Before responding, Lionel enveloped her in the folds of his huge cloak. "Your disguise is shameful, woman. I have no desire to let the castlefolk see their lady attired as a boy."
Lionel noticed her half smile as she gladly accepted the concealing garment, and he abruptly realized that she was pleased--undoubtedly because wearing his cloak would protect her disguise. That smug little smile quickly faded, however, when he announced who he was at Larkspur's gate, then dismounted at the stable, lifted her down and curtly demanded, "Show me to the master bedchamber, woman."
"I will not," she replied defiantly.
Lionel bent down to whisper in her ear. "For what I intend to do to you, Alexandra, you might prefer privacy." When she still said nothing, he added, "However, I could do it right here in the stable if you continue this childish belligerence."
She paled, and then two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks. It was obvious to Lionel that she feared being thrown to the ground and taken right here in the stable, in front of the grooms. That was not his intention at all, of course, but her embarrassment served his purpose. Evidently unwilling to risk such humiliation, she muttered a colorful obscenity, then led the way to the chamber without further complaint.
Upon reaching the spacious, well-furbished master bedchamber boasting a massive oak bedstead, a writing desk, a large wardrobe and two carved armchairs in front of the hearth, Lionel gestured for Alexandra to precede him into the room. She reluctantly obeyed, and Lionel closed the door and threw the bolt.
She was agitated. Lionel could see that, and he frowned. She was badly in need of punishment, but it was best to see the thing done before her agitation increased. He had no desire to cause her any more distress than what she had earned through her own foolishness. Sitting down on the bed, he said, "Come here, wife," in a quietly commanding voice.
She obeyed--again reluctantly. Lionel was satisfied. At least she hadn't argued with him, or cursed.
But she gasped with shock, then shrieked with anger, when he pulled her face-down across his muscled thighs, raised her boy's tunic and lowered her hose.
"You wouldn't dare!" she shouted, desperately trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
He answered her with a stinging spank to her backside.
"How dare you do this!" she yelped, and Lionel's heavy hand descended again. "I demand that you stop this at once!" she screamed.
Lionel ignored her protests.
After warming her bottom with three more firm smacks, he finally rested his palm against her bright pink flesh. Quite calmly, he said, "Will you give me your word that you'll never again go to Cliffside dressed as a boy?"
"Never!" was her immediate reply.
The spanking resumed.
"Your word, woman," Lionel demanded. She said nothing this time. The only sounds in the room were those of flesh meeting flesh in a firm, uncompromising rhythm. Then she finally gasped out, "Please...stop."
"Promise, Alexandra," he insisted, staying his hand. "I want to hear your vow."
She waited so long to answer, he gave her another reminder of her precarious position.
"Aye," she whispered.
"Aye what?" he demanded.
"Aye, my lord," she muttered. "I will not go to Cliffside again dressed as a boy."
Even after gaining her promise, Lionel gave her bottom one more stinging slap. "That, my lady," he said before she could ask, "was for biting me."
And then, unable to resist, Lionel did something that caused her to gasp and squirm in his lap. Very gently--and provocatively--he caressed the cleft between her pinked bottom cheeks, tracing her sweetness with a single finger. The caress lasted only a moment before he finally lifted her and placed her on the bed, but he noticed her hot blush as she turned onto her side.
He strode to the door and unbolted it, then turned back to his well-chastised wife. Her boy's hose were still bunched around her thighs, the tunic was up around her waist, and the sight of her bared feminine charms sent molten blood rushing through his veins. Then, as he remembered that the willful chit was most likely not even a virgin, his anger returned.
"You will attire yourself properly, wife, and come down to the hall immediately," he commanded. "My men are road weary and hungry, and you will tend to their needs. Is that clear, Alexandra?"
Alex bristled. "And if I say no, Sir Lionel?"
Legs spread, arms crossed over his chest, he regarded her calmly. Even without words, the threat was implicit. He would spank her again.
"I will see to your men," she capitulated, and Lionel turned to the door.
Alex wasn't thinking about her state of undress as her husband left the chamber--she was thinking about revenge.
"I will find some way to repay you, Sir Lionel, she vowed as she carefully rose from the bed. "I will most definitely find some way to repay you."
She had never been so humiliated in all her life. Her father had spanked her on occasion when he'd felt it was absolutely necessary, but even he had not tanned her bottom for several years. She was a grown woman, for God's sake, not a mewling child in need of a parent's firm discipline!
Muttering colorful curses, she stripped off her disguise, then carefully hid it in the bottom of her father's sea chest. She couldn't bear to part with the disguise, even though she'd given the damnable beast her word that she wouldn't use it again.
Now completely unclothed, she rubbed her sore bottom as she crossed to the wash basin. Applying a cool, damp rag to the heated flesh lessened the sting a little, but not very much, and she cursed again. How dare he!
Alex could have called a maidservant to help her dress, of course, but she didn't want anyone to see the evidence of her humiliation. How would a servant ever understand that a girl who was adept at handling many weapons had been totally unable to wriggle out of a man's lap?
She blushed crimson as she remembered the look in the beast's eyes just before he'd left the chamber. She hadn't cared a whit at the time that she'd been bared to his gaze, but in memory, the searing look in those golden eyes was unnerving. Would he insist upon his marital rights tonight? That's what she'd thought he was planning when she'd brought him to this chamber. But instead, he'd spanked her!
Remembering his command to come down to the hall immediately, Alex decided she had spent all the time she dared before obeying him. Draping a large linen drying cloth around her nude body, she scurried to her former chamber--and that thought brought a catch to her throat--then dug in the chest where she used to keep her disguise and retrieved her clothes. They were a little worse for wear, but Alex merely shrugged at that. If The Lion wanted a perfect lady, he shouldn't have married her.
She realized wryly as she donned her stockings, garters and soft linen shift that even if she had been able to squirm out of his lap, the attempted escape would have gained her nothing at all. Undoubtedly, he would have chased her, held her down and spanked her anyway. A woman had absolutely no right to evade her husband's discipline, and she shuddered at the thought. He would indeed rule her with an iron hand.
"There must be some way I can repay this insult," she muttered, pulling on her finely-woven beige undergown. "Surely even a callous beast can be hurt in some way."
After donning her sleeveless overgown--its color so close to pinkened flesh that she shuddered again, thinking of her poor, punished bottom--Alex slipped her feet into soft leather shoes, then combed the tangles out of her hair.
She was as ready as she was ever going to be. It was time to face The Lion.
|
