Prisoner of My Desire

  first,? but that was more likely her punishment for the cold water. Only he

  stood up as he said it, and standing far away from him, she could not help but

  see too much of his body.

  She started to shake her head, to refuse again to obey him, but he asked first,

  ?Are you pleased with what your ministrations have wrought??

  ?Nay!? she said emphatically.

  ?You always were before,? he reminded her.

  His voice was too husky. God?s mercy, was he going to try to seduce her into

  wanting him? If so,?twould likely only be to then dismiss her and send for his

  Celia. He had had his like for like. He could not want her again. Nay, all he

  wanted was more revenge.

  ?II like rape no more than you did,? she told him miserably.

  ?I have told you how sorry I am for what was done to you. When will your revenge

  end??

  ?When it no longer infuriates me to look at you. When every offense has been

  satisfied. When I have killed your brother for my squire?s death. When I lose

  interest, wench, and not before? mayhap never.?

  Chapter 21

  Rowena lay on her uncomfortable bed on the floor of the weaving room, wide awake.

  She had put her chemise back on before bedding down. The coarse wool might be

  scratchy, but the even rougher woolen pallet was much worse, and so the chemise

  offered her some little ease. She was getting no other kind, not from her

  thoughts, not from her bellyand not from the disquieting feelings Lord Vengeance

  had stirred up in her.

  She did not understand those feelings. She did not want Warrick de Chaville. She

  could not want a man she hated. Yet many times these past days he had made her

  want him, despite her hate, and her body had remembered that tonight and

  responded, once again, not as she wished it to.

  And he had been so angry after being reminded of all the reasons he wanted

  revenge against her. He had contained it well, however. It had only been seen in

  his expressive eyes. But that was enough to make Rowena tremble. And he liked

  her fear. ?Twas almost enough to pacify himalmost.

  Her feet had felt wooden when she approached him with the soft drying cloth. And

  his cold voice had not relieved her any.

  ?On your knees again,? he had ordered.

  ?And take care, wench, that you do not miss a single drop of moisture. Do I

  catch a chill because of your negligence, I will beat you for it.?

  He had said that as if his other threats of beatings had lacked substance. She

  doubted that, but was concerned only with this threat. And in selfdefense, she

  forced herself to dry him slowly, to make sure she left no patch of skin even a

  little bit damp.

  ?Twas an experience she did not ever want to repeat. Her fearful trembling had

  turned to another kind. And he knew. He watched her like a hawk, so he could not

  help but see the effect he was having on her. Of course, the effect she was

  having on him was even more obvious, was staring her right in the face, and her

  fascination with his manroot returned. Against her will, she even caressed it as

  she dried it.

  That was when he had snapped at her to get out. She had been surprised, but had

  not waited around for him to repeat the order. She had run out of there, and

  straight up the stairs near his solar that led to the women?s quarters, which

  included the sewing and weaving rooms.

  The latter had been dark and empty then, for the hour had still been early, the

  other women down in the hall. Rowena should have just calmed herself some, then

  gone back down to get something to eat. Instead she had fetched a torch from the

  corridor to light a few candles in the room, made her pallet, put her chemise

  back on, and gone to bed.

  Getting to sleep was another matter. She was still awake when four of the

  weavers came in together, spoke quietly amongst themselves for a few minutes,

  then all drifted off to sleep without the least difficulty. She was still awake

  when the noisy rumbles from her belly joined the soft sounds of the others

  sleeping. She was still awake when the door opened again sometime after matins,

  and a huge shape stood there, silhouetted against the light behind it.

  She knew who it was. She had even somehow suspected he would come, even while

  she had imagined him relieving himself with Celia. Unlessdid he think his Celia

  was here? Was it his favorite he had come for, and not her?

  But ?twas Rowena he faced when he said ?Come.?

  She did not doubt now that he spoke to her, even though his face was no more

  than a black shadow. None of the other women stirred, but Rowena did not move

  either, except to shake her head.

  He put out his hand and repeated that single word, and she was assailed with

  memories of his hands on her, of the incredible pleasure his body had recently

  forced on hersand she shook her head again, violently. She did not want that

  pleasure again, not from him.

  He had more words to say to her denial, quietly, for only her ears.

  ?You are having the same difficulty as I, or you would not be still awake. I for

  one do not mean to suffer it any longer. Come now, or I will carry you from here.?

  She dreaded the scene that that would cause, which was guaranteed to wake the

  others, but still she did not move, so he added ?Your screams will not matter.

  Have you not realized that yet??

  She had a little more dignity than that. But since she was likely to scream if

  he touched her, she got up and followed him out of the room but no further than

  the empty corridor. He walked on, fully expecting her to follow him. When he

  finally realized she was not behind him, he came back, though he was not angryat

  least not yet. His brow was merely lifted in question.

  ?Do you require assistance??

  His nonchalance was infuriating.

  ?I am not going with you,? she told him baldly, stiffly.

  ?You had your revenge on me in that way. To force me again would not be like for

  like.?

  ?Did I say you would only have like for like, wench? After today you should know

  better. However I choose to exact retribution from you, so it will be done.?

  And then he shrugged, just before that humorless smile came to his lips.

  ?But this has naught to do with that. Merely has it occurred to me that you

  truly are no more than a serf now, and so bound to Fulkhurst as any other serf.

  This means you can do naught without my permission, and like any other serf, you

  owe me my due. This also means that, as with any other female serf, if I decide

  to toss your skirts and avail myself of what lies between your legs at any time,

  in any place, that is my privilege. So if I tell you to get yourself to my bed,

  you will make haste to do so. Is this clear to you??

  ?Aye, but?

  ?Aye, what??

  ?My lord,? she snapped.

  ?You are a slow learner. But then, little better can be expected of one so

  stupid as you.?

  ?I am not stupidmy lord.?

  ?Are you not? You do not think it was stupid of you to try and steal a child

  from me??

  ?Not stupid,? she confessed ?just very wrongbut I had no choice.?

  ?No one held a knife at your throat,? he said harshly.

  She had b
een warned not to offer excuses. He was now angry, and not like to

  listen to them even if she dared try to make him understand. But she could not

  let pass what he had kept her from saying after his damning recital of her

  present position, even if it made him angrier.

  ?You know as well as I that I am no serf, Lord Warrick. If I were, I would no

  doubt agree with all you have said, and might even feel differently about aa

  summons from you in the middle of the night. But calling me serf does not make

  it so, does not change feelings, does not let me accept what you term ?privilege.??

  ?You are fond of telling me you had no choice. Think you that you have a choice

  in this??

  ?Then you will have to chain me again,? she assured him ?for I will never come

  willing to your bed.?

  He laughed cruelly at her confidence.

  ?Those chains were for your benefit, wench, not mine. I would prefer it do you

  fight me, for I do not want your willingness. Nay, I want your hate, and your

  shame when you finally succumb. Mayhap I will even make you beg this timefor

  what you do not want.?

  She paled at those words, though he did not see it in the dim light. But she

  could remember clearly the last time in his bed, when he had played with her and

  made her so wild, she had thought she would beg him to take her if she were not

  gagged. And that would be more humiliating than all the rest combined. But she

  had been chained then and unable to prevent all of those intimate caresses.

  Unchained, she would fight, so he would be unable to bring her to that pitch of

  need againnay, he could not make her beg him. Never.

  Armed with that conviction, she was about to make the foolish mistake of telling

  him it was impossible, which was the surest way to make him prove otherwise,

  when her belly broke the silence first with a loud rumble. Even that embarrassed

  her, particularly when his eyes dropped to stare at the offending noisemaker.

  ?When did you last eat?? he demanded.

  ?This morn.?

  ?Why? You had ample time?

  ?Not before your bath, I did not, and after, I I just wanted to hide and lick my

  wounds.?

  ?You will not blame me for a missed meal, wench, nor will you miss another. I

  care not if you starve yourself, but you will have to wait until you no longer

  have my child to succor in your belly. You have little enough meat on your bones

  now. Do you miss another meal, I will beat you.?

  She was beginning to wonder about that threat. He sounded as if he meant it,

  looked as if he meant it, but he said it too frequently for it to generate much

  fear anymore.

  ?I have no intention of starving myself to escape your vengeance.?

  ?Good, because you will find there is no escape, not for you. Now come?

  ?I am going back to my own bed.?

  ?You are coming with meand did I not warn you about interrupting me??

  ?You did, but since you do not subscribe to that rule yourself, I did not think

  you would want to be thought a hypocrite as well as a monster.?

  That humorless smile was back. Actually, that smile was much more intimidating

  than his threats, because it had so far presaged most of his punishments.

  He took a step forward. She took one back.

  ?You would not think to run from me, would you, wench?? he taunted.

  Her chin went up.

  ?Aye, why not? You mean to punish me anyway.?

  And I cannot help but be quicker than you, you overgrown lout.

  Before he took the step that would bring him within arm?s reach of her, she

  bolted past him toward the circular stairs at the end of the corridor. If she

  could just reach the hall, there would be countless places to hide, even among

  the servants sleeping there. But ?twas the storage area in the basement that she

  had in mind.

  She raced down the stairs two at a time. She heard his curse behind her, heard

  the rasp of her own breathheard the scrape of steel at the bottorn of the steps.

  She came to a skidding halt. The man blocking her way held a candle in one hand,

  a sword in the other. He was no older than she, but at least a hand taller.

  Rowena did not have a chance to figure out a way around that sword or the young

  man holding it. She was lifted off the floor from behind, and Warrick commanded

  ?Put that away, Bernard, and go and wake the cook.?

  But the moment the boy left to do as bidden, the hard voice turned softly

  menacing to whisper by her ear ?If you had not earned a punishment before, wench,

  you have nowbut first I will feed you.?

  Chapter 22

  The kitchen was an eerie place without its blazing fire pit and many torches to

  chase away the shadows. The resident rat catcher hissed in cornplaint before

  streaking off to hide behind the well. The cook was mumbling about missed sleep;

  Bernard was holding his candle high so the cook could see what he was doing.

  Rowena was still cradled in Warrick?s arms. Each time she moved the slightest

  bit, he interpreted it as an attempt to escape and tightened his arms around her.

  When he finally set her down on a stool before the table, a fine array of food

  was spread out for her to choose from, all cold, but still tempting to an empty

  belly. The half loaf of bread would have served as a trencher on the morrow, but

  just now it was still soft, as was the butter to spread on it. There was a thick

  slice of roasted beef, jellied veal hocks, and a chunk of mackerel spiced with

  mint and parsley, minus the sorrel sauce it had been served with earlier. A

  wedge of cheese, spiced pears, and an apple tart rounded off the meal, along

  with a tankard of ale.

  ?Were there no partridges left?? Warrick asked the cook as Rowena started eating.

  ?One, my lord, but Lady Beatrix has requested it be served her in the morn?

  Warrick interrupted to order ?Fetch it. My daughter can eat whatever is prepared

  on the morrow, as will the rest of us. This wench is starving now.?

  Rowena could not believe what she was hearing. Did he not realize he would be

  making another enemy for her? You did not take from the daughter of the house to

  give to a servant. To a guest, certainly, but not a servant. And the cook would

  have to deal with the angry Beatrix on the morrow, so there was another enemy

  for her and he was husband to Mary Blouet, who had the care of her.

  ?This is more food than I can eat,? Rowena quickly assured them.

  ?I do not need?

  ?You need variety/?

  Warrick insisted.

  ?But I do not like partridge,? she lied.

  ?You do not feed only yourself,? he shot back.

  That reminder made her face go hot with embarrassment, especially since it had

  the other two men looking at her differently, as if Warrick?s strange behavior

  was now quite understandable. That she was with child was likely to become

  common knowledge at this rate. Coupled with the undue amount of attention

  Warrick was giving her, ?twould not be hard for anyone to guess who the father

  was. Did he not mind? Nay, why should he, when he intended to keep the child

  himself.

  That reminder had Rowena glaring at him.

  ?The babe and I do not like partridge, nor will we eat it.?

  He stared at her for a moment more before he conceded in a grouc
hy tone ?Very

  well,? then turned back to the relieved cook to add ?But she should have wine

  instead of ale, I think, and none of that soured brew. Fetch a bottle of that

  sweet wine I sent from Tures.?

  Rowena stiffened. So did the cook, saying ?I will have to wake the butler to get

  the key, my lord.?

  ?Then do so.?

  Rowena had just avoided the acquisition of two new enemies in giving up one of

  her favorite foods. She was not going to get another in the form of the butler

  by accepting her own wine, which she would likely choke on because it was hers.

  ?Twas cruel to offer her a sample of what she had lost, but this was one cruelty

  she could not even place on Warrick, for he did not know she was the Lady of

  Tures.

  She stopped the cook on the way to the stairs.

  ?That will not be necessary, Master Blouet. Wine makes me ill just now,? she

  lied again.

  ?So I could not drink it.?

  The cook turned back hopefully to get confirmation from his lord, but Warrick

  was now frowning down at Rowena.

  ? Tis strange that only what will inconvenience others is what you cannot