Denise Lynn Read online

  It was petty and uncharitable of her, but she found him physically unappealing, thin with sloping shoulders, pale skin, thick lips and a weak chin that would one day soon fall into folds.

  And his tiny ice-blue eyes made her nervous. Every time he looked at her she could easily envision a blue-eyed rat staring at her.

  Of course, she also had to admit that even had the man been gorgeous it wouldn't have mattered

  —his association with Villaire alone made her distrust and dislike him.

  The man's cold glare made her suddenly glad Jared had insisted they remain at the table.

  Blackstone shook his head. 'I would think something as personal as a proposal deserves a litde privacy.'

  'Proposal?' Lea couldn't hide her shock. She thought he'd come to court her, not offer marriage within mere moments of seeing her for the first time.

  'Did your maid not tell you?' Villaire sighed. 'Even the servants are sadly lacking in knowing their duty.'

  Since he was only criticising Agatha to get under her skin, she ignored his comment. Instead she focused on the question. 'My maid told me Blackstone was here to court my favour.'

  'With King Stephen's blessing,' Blackstone added as if she'd be impressed with the announcement.

  'Since you are not courting Stephen, his blessing means nothing.'

  'If you possessed any wisdom you would have realised that King Stephen will soon be your liege lord. Montreau is surrounded by the king's supporters; once they send David running back to Scotland you will be alone.'

  Villaire looked pointedly at Jared. 'The empress will be unable to raise an army large enough to stop Stephen.'

  Lea feared he might be correct. After all, David was nearly encroaching on church property in Durham. The church didn't seem to care who won this war for the crown. They wouldn't lift a finger to defend either side.

  Jared's laugh caught her by surprise. He didn't seem to be the least bit concerned by Villaire's dire scenario.

  'For Stephen to beat Matilda his supporters would have to chose a side—and be loyal. A promise of gold, land, title, keep or a rich wife changes loyalties in less than a heartbeat. This war will never end—not until one of them dies.'

  While his laugh had surprised her, the bitterness in his tone concerned her. A warrior that bitter had little hope in a successful outcome. And if he had no hope that his liege would prove victorious, how could he win on a field of battle?

  She'd seen many of Jared's moods—from angry to oveijoyed —but never had she seen him bitter or hopeless.

  Villaire was adamant. 'One way or another Stephen will win. Eventually all of the barons will come to their senses. They will not give fealty to a woman, especially to one that is not their own.'

  Jared countered, 'She is still of Norman blood—more than some of them.'

  It wasn't Matilda's fault her father had wed her to a German emperor. Lea sympathised with Madlda's plight. A daughter of the royal house had less say in the choice of a husband than she did.

  'It matters not.' Villaire's voice rose. 'No man of any integrity will answer to one who is perceived as lesser than he.'

  'They lost their integrity when they turned their backs on their sworn oath to King Henry.'

  Where Villaire's voice had risen, Jared's had deepened. Lea needed to stop them before a war broke out in her hall.

  It was possible—near probable—that Jared would see through her attempt and ignore her, so she turned her focus on Villaire. 'What right have you to concern yourself with Montreau's loyalty?

  We are, and in this war always will be, neutral.'

  'I have already told you that I intend to petition King Stephen for guardianship.'

  Actually, he'd told her that he had already done so. Was he now telling so many lies that he was unable to keep track of them?

  Lea motioned towards Blackstone. 'I assume the king is still contemplating your request since your friend only has permission to court me, not wed me.' She pursed her lips and frowned as if considering something important. 'I wonder why that is? Perhaps Stephen is not as trusting of you as you seem to think.'

  Markam Villaire smiled, then took a long drink of wine before he shrugged and said, 'That matters little. I am rightfully your guardian and if the king does not agree, I'm certain the church will.'

  'The church?' Lea laughed. 'With the speed they move, we could all be dead of old age before the church makes a decision.'

  Markam's face once again reddened. 'You find this amusing?'

  Yes, she did. And she most certainly didn't need Jared's leg pressing against hers to silently warn her not to say so. Didn't he realise that sort of contact would only serve to muddle her thoughts?

  Lea gathered her wits about her before answering. 'Amusing? No. I find this whole plan of yours despicable.'

  Blackstone leaned forwards to address her. 'Despicable? What sort of woman are you to so degrade help from your brother?'

  'No one was talking to you.'

  He jerked back as if she'd physically slapped him, but quickly recovered. 'You, my lady, need learn to guard your tongue else I change my mind.'

  Lea nearly choked on the wine she was drinking. 'Change your mind? About what? Courting me?

  Trust me, Sir Blackstone, such a move on your part will not break my heart. I have no need of, nor do I desire, your courtship.'

  Villaire glared at her, warning, 'You go too far.'

  'I don't go far enough. I want you and your lack-witted—'

  Jared rose quickly and pulled her chair away from the table. 'I need some air.'

  Lea glanced up at him. 'You know where the door is located.'

  Without asking permission, he assisted her up from her seat. 'I desire your company.'

  'I'm honoured.'

  Jared ignored her droll tone of voice. With his hand under her elbow, he led her across the hall.

  Lea couldn't help but notice that nearly everyone stared at her. She wanted to groan. As usual, whenever Villaire was around, she'd managed to make a spectacle of herself. Why did she permit that man to goad her when she knew full well he did it on purpose?

  Once outside, Jared released his hold. 'While I agree your brother-by-marriage is.. .irritating, he's nothing more than a bothersome flea you should ignore.'

  'Thank you, my lord, for pointing that out.'

  He walked away, saying. 'Don't be tiresome, Lea.'

  'Tiresome?' Following him, she said, 'You tell me how I should behave, treating me like I'm a child, and then calling me tiresome?'

  'A child? Hardly.' Jared turned around, but kept walking backwards. 'I know for a fact you aren't a child. You do realise what they'll do now, don't you?'

  'Of course I do.' Since she'd antagonised them, they would make her life even more miserable.

  'Good.' He presented his back to her, adding, 'Don't complain to me when Blackstone becomes your shadow and Villaire keeps a close eye on the courting progress.'

  Unfortunately that's exactiy what they would do. And since she was so against the idea, Villaire would also vigorously pursue his plea for guardianship.

  She needed to get the two of them out of Montreau. She might not be able to do so, but she knew who could. 'Jared?'

  He stopped and turned to look at her. 'What?'

  Lea could see the wariness in his narrowed gaze. A trace of guilt almost made her change her mind. 'Now that the search for Charles's body is done, is there any reason for Villaire to remain?'

  'No.'

  She moved closer and looked up at him. 'So, there'd be nothing to prevent you from ordering him to leave.'

  A cool night breeze ruffled her hair. Jared reached up and tucked the wayward strands behind her ear. 'Not if I was so inclined.'

  The shiver rippling down her arms had little to do with the night air and more to do with the brush of his knuckles against her skin. Lea knew she was playing a dangerous game, but ignored the urge to step away. Instead she placed a hand on his chest. 'You don't like the man
any more than I do. Isn't it time he returned to his own keep?'

  Jared traced a fingertip against her cheek. 'Would that make you happy?'

  She leaned into his touch. 'Very.'

  His lips quirked into a half-smile before he bent to brush a kiss across her lips. 'Then I think he should stay a while longer.'

  Lea froze. She lowered her arm and stepped back. Certain she'd not heard him correctly, she asked, 'What?'

  'I think he should stay a while longer,' he repeated, the smug smile deepening. 'My task here is to protect you and Montreau. That doesn't necessarily mean I'm sworn to make you happy.'

  He'd seen through her ploy. 'Why, you... 'Uncertain what vile name to call him, she let her curse trail off.

  'What, Lea? What am I? A bastard? A lout? You crook your finger and when I don't rush to do your bidding I'm the lowest of low?' He shrugged and walked away, adding, 'Save your wiles for someone else.'

  Shaking with rage, Lea shouted, 'Damn you, Warehaven.'

  He instantly returned to her, his anger as evident as her own. 'Oh, now it's Warehaven, is it? Not long ago it was "oh, Jared, please".'

  Before she could respond, he pulled her against his chest. 'Fear not, Lea, I was damned the day I met you.'

  His mouth covered hers. There was nothing gende in his kiss, but when the heat in her veins flared to life, she suddenly didn't care.

  Lea pressed tighter against his hard thighs and chest. She clung to his shoulders for support, wishing she could somehow get even closer.

  Jared pulled his mouth from hers to trail hot kisses to her ear, then whispered, 'Stay away from me, Lea. For both our sakes, just stay away.'

  Chapter Eight

  From her chamber, Lea stared at the activity in the mud-churned bailey. Even though it had rained non-stop for the last ten days, Jared had the men training daily.

  She'd followed his orders and stayed away from him, although she wasn't convinced it was best for both of them. They hadn't so much as exchanged a word in all that time. Instead, she'd watched him from afar—when she wasn't dodging Villaire and Blackstone.

  The distance between them had done nothing to lessen the desire from flaring to life whenever she thought of him. It didn't cool the passion building as she watched him from across a room.

  Nor did it stop the tremors from rippling down her spine when she heard his voice as he spoke to someone else.

  He was like some magical spell—or curse—hanging over her night and day. Not even in her sleep could she escape her longing for his touch. Over and over she'd dream of being in his arms, of his caress, or his kiss.

  Lea bowed her head. She was pathetic. She was hopelessly in lust with a warrior. A man who thought more of war than of her. A fact he'd proven once again.

  Just over a week ago, Jared had gathered Montreau's men and started working on their defensive skills. At first she'd thought he'd been preparing them to go to war, but Agatha, acting as their intermediary, had explained that he wanted Montreau's men capable of defending the keep should the need ever arise.

  She had no argument with his forethought to the safety of Montreau. Some day Jared would leave and it only made sense to make certain they could fend for themselves. They'd been lucky thus far, but who knew how long that would last? Especially now that a lone woman commanded the keep.

  'My lady?' Agatha entered the chamber carrying a tray of food. 'Are you feeling any better?'

  The aroma of highly spiced meat wafted across Lea's nose. She took one look at the tray and clamped an arm around her tumbling stomach. Waving at the tray, she said, 'I was. Please, take that from here.'

  Agatha took the tray back out into the hallway. Leaving it there, she re-entered the chamber. 'Is there anything you'd like?'

  'No. Thank you, I'm not hungry.'

  The older woman placed her palm against Lea's forehead and cheeks. 'There's no fever to speak of. Should I summon the midwife?'

  Lea shook her head. 'It'll pass.' At least it had for the last four mornings. By the dme the sun was high in the sky she would feel better.

  Besides, she had a sneaking suspicion a midwife wouldn't be able to cure what was wrong with her. Lea forced the thought aside, refusing to give her fear life.

  'Villaire and his shadow are asking for you.'

  'That's nice.' Her voice dripped with sarcasm. 'What excuse did you use this time?' As she'd expected, the two men never gave her a moment of peace.

  'The truth. I told them you were feeling poorly.'

  Agatha busied herself about the chamber, whde Lea turned back to the window. She glanced at the gathering storm clouds, wondering when the weather would finally break. Being cooped up in the keep and having to constantly dodge Villaire and Blackstone was getting on her nerves. Many more days of this and she'd be screaming like some crazed fishwife.

  With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the bailey, only to meet Jared's stare. Her heart raced and her cheeks flamed. Yet she couldn't look away.

  It had been such a mistake to be so intimate with him. Now she couldn't get him out of her mind.

  The harder she tried to forget what they'd shared, the more she wanted him. Of all the men in the world, why did she have to crave Jared of Warehaven's touch?

  Somehow she'd have to set her desires aside. But when he cocked an eyebrow and shot her a seductive half-smile before turning away, Lea feared she'd still desire him long after he left Montreau.

  Jared fended off a sword blow from the man with whom he parried blades, sending the less experienced man to his back in the mud. Montreau's men were sadly out of practice. If the keep were attacked, he wouldn't be able to depend on their assistance to any great degree.

  They didn't complain about the training—in truth, they seemed relieved to have something constructive to do. However, they weren't quick enough on their feet to keep them from falling into the mud on a regular basis. He reached out and pulled the man to his feet.

  'Simon!' he shouted at one of his guards standing on the sidelines. 'Make yourself useful.'

  Stepping out of the small, makeshift melee, Jared glanced at the keep. She was looking at him—

  again. He could feel it as a dngle against his neck.

  What the hell had he been thinking to take her to bed? Jared rolled his eyes at the widess quesdon. Any fool knew that he hadn't been thinking.

  He and Lea had waited so long—years—and unfortunately, the pleasure had far exceeded any of his wildest daydreams. Now, the feel and taste of her was in his blood. And it ate at him, filling him with a mindless, driving need that made him lash out in frustration.

  He'd told her to stay away from him and so far, to his amazement, she'd done his bidding. It was safer that way. Safer not just for her, but for both of them.

  Her presence made him long to ravish her, to lose himself in the softness of her hair, the scent of her skin and the intoxicating sound of her breathless sighs of pleasure. But the moment he touched her all of the anger and pain welled forth with an undeniable thirst for revenge.

  While it was doubtful he would ever forgive her, he didn't want to hurt her. Doing so would only fill him with guilt and self-loathing.

  Jared looked up at her. Lea was a beautiful, bewitching temptress—passionate, giving, untrustworthy and heartbreaking. He tightened his grip on his sword. If the empress didn't order him from here soon, he feared losing what little control he had left.

  'This is taking far too long. She's making up excuses to avoid you intentionally.' Markam Villaire pounded a meaty fist on the arm of the chair.

  'What do you suggest I do?' John Blackstone leaned against the alcove wall in the bedchamber he and Villaire shared. 'She's made it near impossible for me to court her.'

  Not that he cared about the courting part. He was already betrothed to another. But the gold Villaire offered was too tempdng to resist.

  Once he wed Lea, he would move his love into Montreau. Berta wouldn't mind. After all, this keep was consideringly better than the
hovel she resided in now. John was certain that, after some sweet words and lovemaking, Berta would readily accept the situation.

  'The time for courting her is at an end. If the two of you don't wed, or at least announce your betrothal soon, Stephen will withdraw his support and I'll never gain control of Montreau.'

  Once again, John asked, 'What do you suggest I do?'

  'Do I have to instruct you on everything?'

  'She's your sister-by-marriage. You know better how to deal with her than I.'

  Markam tapped the arm of the chair. 'You need to force her hand.'

  Shocked, John gasped. 'You can't mean I am to...?' He searched for the right word, praying it wasn't as he feared. 'You want me to.. .assault.. .the Lady of Montreau?'

  'Not exactly. But if she fears that is a possibility, she might then be more amenable to your will.'

  The man wasn't thinking clearly. 'Or she'll tell Warehaven and my head will be hanging from a gate post.'

  'Then you need make certain she doesn't tell him.'

  'Lord Villaire, you seem to be forgetting the lady is already betrothed to Warehaven.' A complicadon neither of them had expected.

  Markam laughed. 'Do you have any common sense? If this betrothal of theirs held any merit, they would have made a public announcement. At the very least Warehaven would have requested permission to wed from the empress. I am fairly certain their betrothal is nothing but a ruse for my benefit.'

  He might be correct. After all, Montreau was far too great a prize for a union with its lady to remain private. 'How do you know he hasn't requested permission to wed her?'

  'My men keep their eyes and ears open. Warehaven hasn't sent any messenger to his aunt.'

  Markam frowned while taking a long swallow of wine. He set the goblet down. 'Something has happened. All isn't quite right between the two of them.'

  John had noticed it too. Of late, Warehaven and Lady Lea seemed to go out of their way to avoid each other. They didn't speak, nor would they occupy the same room.

  Villaire mused, 'If we could discover what occurred, perhaps we could use it to our advantage.'

  'But that would require being able to speak to the lady.' A task that thus far had proven fruitless.