Desired

  A muffled sob escaped her lips. Then she was being lifted in strong arms. He gently undressed her and lifted her naked into the bed. He gathered her against his side and began to talk to her. “You will love Bordeaux. ’Tis one of the loveliest places in the world, Brianna.” His voice was seductive, dark, enveloping. The way he whispered her name was wickedly enticing all by itself. It lured her to forget who she was, who he was, to forget right and wrong, to forget everything except that they lay naked in this bed. When he talked, it melted her antipathy faster than anything else could. “To reach it we sail down the curving river Garonne, whose silver water is wide enough for many tall ships. The buildings, surrounded by a white wall, are like spun sugar, some white, some pink, with red tile roofs.

  “All is a profusion of flowers. Jasmine scents the warm air. Wait until you sip the chilled, delicate wine from Médoc. It will steal your senses.” His lips touched her throat and felt her frantically beating pulse. “The sun beats down from a turquoise sky. Sometimes, in the languorous afternoon, we’ll close the shutters to keep out the heat and I’ll take you to bed for a siesta.”

  Love in the afternoon? Brianna bit down on the sheet to keep from moaning.

  “I’ll feed you grapes and peaches filled with nectar so that your kisses will be sweeter than they’ve ever been before.” His mouth covered hers at last and she opened for the deep kiss for which he had made her thirst. When his fingers traced the petals of her woman’s center, they unfurled for him, allowing him to plunder her until they both experienced an explosion of the senses.

  Once more he had bemused, beguiled, bewitched, and bedded her!

  Bordeaux was exactly as Christian Hawksblood had described it. It shimmered beneath a brilliant sun. Exotic foliage with highly scented, vivid blooms filled the senses. The port itself was a fascinating collage of wine shops, alleys, street vendors, and donkeys. Stalls and carts were filled with such diverse produce as green figs, peaches, strings of garlic and sausages. Flower-sellers offered baskets of lilies, peonies, and freesia. The women in the streets wore scarlet shawls with ornamental combs and flowers in their hair.

  The magnificent royal palace had once been the Abbey of St. Andrew, but Brianna was surprised at the size and splendor of the many houses beyond it. Because Christian was needed to see to his Cornishmen and the knights from the House of Warrick, he had left Brianna and Adele in the capable hands of Paddy. Though Prince Edward’s army was considered small, ten thousand men-at-arms, a third of whom were mounted, would take at least two days to transfer from ship to barracks.

  All the Plantagenets had their own separate household and servants. This time Prince John had been left behind in England as regent. Though a scandal had been avoided by taking no action against Prince Lionel, nothing could alter the fact that he had plotted against his brother and the king would never trust him again. King Edward decided the Duke of Clarence and his men would accompany him to Bordeaux where he could keep an eye on his activities.

  Queen Philippa had brought all the younger children and the new baby with their attendant maids, nannies, and laundresses. Because Princess Isabel and Princess Joanna were expected to be married soon, they had brought a staggering amount of baggage. Joanna, who would be going to Castile, had brought a bridal bed with Tripoli silk hangings, a chariot lined with purple velvet, chairs, tables, carpets, and gold and silver plate. Every article was emblazoned with the arms of England. Though she was only thirteen, her household consisted of over a hundred manservants, including pages, poulterers, sumpterers, chambermen, stewards, knights, and esquires.

  Brianna was attached to Isabel’s household, which had even more furnishings and attendants than Joanna’s. Adele assured Brianna that she and Paddy would see to their trunks and crates and take everything they had brought over on the ship to Christian Hawksblood’s dwelling. Brianna had to attend Isabel and knew she would be kept busy long into the night, or perhaps for days, if that spoiled princess did not give her leave to retire.

  As it turned out, it was the next day before she was allowed a few hours to get settled into her own quarters. Brianna thought she had been directed to the wrong place as she walked up the steps and saw the spacious terraces and the marble floors. Then she heard Paddy’s voice in altercation.

  He was on a second-story balcony, arguing with someone she couldn’t see, and his language was rather blue. Brianna called up to him. “This is like a palace. Does it belong to Prince Edward?”

  “Indeed it does not, my lady! It belongs to Lord de Beauchamp.” He almost sounded offended.

  “You mean Warrick?”

  “Nay, Warrick’s palace is next door. This one belongs to Christian, my lady.”

  A dark woman came out onto the balcony and looked down. She was vividly attractive even with the derisive sneer on her lips. “Lady? What a pity. The last thing Hawksblood needs is a lady!”

  “Shut yer mouth, bitch, before I shut it for you, and get your stuff out of here.”

  “What’s going on? Who is that?” Brianna asked, but the man and woman were too busy exchanging threats to pay heed to her. She went up the beautifully curved staircase and turned left onto the open balcony. She found the pair inside a spacious chamber, playing tug-of-war with a trunkful of gowns. “Who is this?” Brianna repeated.

  They both spoke at once, giving very different replies. Paddy said, “She’s a prisoner.”

  The dark beauty replied, “I am Lisette St. Lô, Baroness.”

  Paddy made a rude noise. “She’s nothing but a French whore who has taken over the master bedchamber as if she owns the place. I’ll have her rubbish out of here in a jiffy, my lady.”

  Lisette sat down on her trunk with determination. “Hawksblood will decide which one of us shares his bed!”

  Brianna stiffened. She stared at the Frenchwoman in shocked surprise. She blanched white as the blood drained from her face. Though her emotions were in chaos, her mind in total disarray, she somehow managed to look completely detached. “Come away, Paddy. I’ll choose another chamber on the other side of the house. You may put my things in there.”

  She walked blindly in the opposite direction until she encountered Adele. Paddy was following Brianna, silently cursing Lisette, cursing himself for not rousting her from the master chamber yesterday, and cursing Hawksblood for sending the woman here to Bordeaux in the first place. The bloody cat was among the pigeons and he feared where the blame would fall. He knew Lady Brianna was almost sacred to Christian, and if she was upset by this French poule, he’d be in shit up to his eyeballs!

  “Hawksblood has been keeping a woman here. Here, in this palace,” Brianna said, wide-eyed with disbelief at what she had actually seen.

  “Come and sit down, lamb. Don’t be upset over a little tart like that.” Adele glared at Paddy, who shrugged helplessly and asked, “Which chamber would you like, my lady?”

  Brianna was moving from distress to anger. It seemed everybody knew about the baroness but her! “It doesn’t matter. All the chambers are exceedingly lovely in this palace. Just be sure you choose one that has a strong lock and key.”

  Paddy disappeared to do her bidding. Adele said quickly, “He’s holding her and her brother, the baron, for ransom. She’s his prisoner … it’s not what it seems.”

  “Oh? What does it seem, Adele?”

  Adele flushed. “Well, you know … that she’s his mistress.”

  “Exactly! Or should we say one of his mistresses? He’s an Arabian, don’t forget!”

  “Oh, my lamb, don’t let her spoil your pleasure in this lovely palace. It has a marble bathing pool and the gardens will take your breath away. And there’s a fountain and a jade tile pond with gold and silver fishes darting about—”

  “Of course I shan’t let her spoil my pleasure. Did Paddy happen to tell you how in the world the Arabian came to own such a place?”

  Adele knew Brianna must be furious to refer to her lord husband as “the Arabian.” “Well, he did tell me about
the first time they came to Bordeaux. When Hawksblood saw Warrick’s palatial home, he bought this one that stood next to it. At that time, he had never met the Earl of Warrick and only suspected him of being his sire. Paddy said it was a matter of pride. He had to buy a house that was bigger and better than Warrick’s.”

  “But where did he get the money?”

  “Paddy said he bought it with gold.”

  “Well, Paddy is a veritable treasure-trove of information. Did he happen to mention from whom he stole the gold?”

  Adele bit her lip. It was unlike Brianna to be icily sarcastic. “I’ll go and see where he has put your trunks. Put your feet up and have a little rest.” Adele found Paddy across the hall in a pretty room that had been plastered in palest pink.

  He muttered, “If she intends to lock the door against Hawksblood, she doesn’t know her husband very well.”

  “You bloody fool, Paddy. Why wasn’t she out of the master suite before Brianna arrived?”

  “Because she’s a sodding woman! They live just to cause trouble and aggravation.”

  “Well! That’s a fine thing to say!”

  “Now, love, I didn’t mean you. I know you avoid trouble like the plague. So take my advice and make yourself scarce when himself arrives. He’ll soon settle Lisette’s bloody hash, and if Lady Brianna gives him any aggravation, he’ll settle her hash too! Here is her bloody key, for what good it’ll do her!” He gave the key to Adele. “Wish me luck, darlin’ … I’m off to drag the Frenchie out by the scrag of her neck and lock her in a cubbyhole somewheres.”

  Lady Joan Holland had a ton of baggage to be taken aboard ship. Her clothes, furs, and jewelry alone filled a dozen trunks. Her own featherbed was carried aboard to assure her comfort and she would sleep aboard the night before the ship departed, so they could sail on the early morning tide.

  Her good-byes to her brother were tearful. “I wish you were coming with me, Edmund.”

  “I’m the crown’s representative here in Calais, Joan,” he said regretfully.

  “Don’t pretend you are unhappy about it, Edmund. Your position draws females like honeybees.”

  He winked at her. “Position is everything, my sweet, remember that!”

  “Why do men always have to be vulgar?”

  “Don’t tell me approaching motherhood has turned you all prim and proper?” he teased.

  “It’s time you thought about settling down and having children, Edmund. My little girl will need cousins to play with.” She kissed him. “Good-bye, Edmund. I’ll miss you.”

  “You will love Bordeaux. Southern France is like paradise.” His careless air became serious for a moment. “For God’s sweet sake, have a care for yourself, Joan.” He wrapped her fur about her shoulders and squeezed affectionately.

  “The angels take care of me, Edmund,” she said softly.

  “I believe they do, sweetheart.”

  Joan and Glynis had half a dozen of Holland’s men escort them to the ship. It was Sir John’s last night in garrison headquarters. He would come directly to the ship in time for the early morning floodtide.

  Edmund of Kent made his way from Joan’s house to the garrison in the center of Calais. Holland greeted him, “I’m glad you dropped in, my lord earl. I’ve appointed Sir Neville Wiggs to take over my command here. He’s not opposed to using strong-arm tactics if and when they are required.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe we’ll have trouble in Calais. I believe we’ve anglicized the town. Although I do concede there are some seedy areas with pox-diseased drabs along the docks.”

  Holland shook his head. “We’ve had trouble in one of the better-heeled neighborhoods. Over on the south side there are a couple of high-priced brothels need watching. I could show you the areas that need patrolling if you fancy a walk, my lord.”

  “Well, by an amazing coincidence, I’m going in that direction this evening, Sir John. There’s nothing like an evening stroll to work up an appetite.”

  The two men headed south, toward the larger houses where the richest burghers lived. They passed the imposing house where the queen had stayed, then turned a corner into what looked like an alley. “It’s these back streets that need patrolling. Ah, good, I see one of our men is on the job.”

  As the man-at-arms approached them, Holland unsheathed a wide-bladed knife with an extremely lethal point and drove it forcefully into Edmund of Kent’s back. With an agonized cry he went down between the two men, his lifeblood gushing up from the massive wound as Holland first twisted, then withdrew the blade.

  “A knife in the back is not unheard of in this wealthy part of Calais. It’s extremely good pickings for thieves.” He bent to lighten his victim of his moneybelt. As Edmund’s eyes were clouding with death, Holland smiled at him. “Don’t worry yourself about my wife, she has just come into a fortune.” He wiped the dripping blade on his handkerchief, then sheathed it beneath his arm. “Sir Neville, if by chance you do encounter trouble on the streets tonight, be certain to report it after the cog royal has sailed.”

  Wiggs saluted him smartly with his sword. “Good-bye, sir. Thank you for your confidence in me. You won’t regret it.”

  Paddy found Hawksblood with Warrick. They were in the stables where they had just finished sewing up the wounds of half a dozen destriers injured on the voyage from England. Actually they were fortunate none had to be destroyed. When a warhorse broke loose below decks, the result could be catastrophic.

  They had spent the entire day unloading horses, their most precious cargo. Those belonging to the royals and the nobles were stabled. Those of lesser knights were put into outdoor paddocks.

  The moment Hawksblood saw Paddy’s face, he sensed trouble. “Is there a problem?”

  “In a manner of speaking, there is, my lord.”

  Ali, who had helped unload and calm horses for the last eighteen hours, cast him a look of disgust. “We’ve handled three thousand equines and you cannot handle two females?”

  “Three females, and I guarantee they can wreak more havoc than three thousand horses!”

  “Three?” Hawksblood questioned. Then he smote his forehead. “How obtuse of me. I forgot all about Lisette St. Lô.”

  Warrick cocked an eyebrow at his son. “I take it the French filly you hold for ransom is more mistress than prisoner?”

  “Hell, no. She was never my mistress. Christ, one tumble and I have to pay for it the rest of my life!” He looked at Warrick with speculative eyes. “Will you house the St. Lôs until their ransom is paid?”

  “I suppose I’d better, if you ever expect another peaceful night as long as you live,” Warrick said with a grin.

  The four men made their way to the two white stone palaces bathed in moonlight. As Warrick broke from the group to enter his own dwelling, Christian said, “We’ll be right back.”

  As he opened the gate in the high wall that surrounded his own imposing palace, Christian ventured, “Is my lady very upset?”

  “Mad as hellfire is my guess. Ye cannot keep two women ye’ve bedded beneath the same roof,” Paddy explained as if Christian were an untried boy.

  “We manage to do so in Arabia,” Ali said in lofty tones. “It is common practice to keep four wives as well as concubines.”

  “We’ll let you explain it all to Lady Brianna,” Paddy said sarcastically.

  “Where did you put the baroness?”

  “I put her in her brother’s rooms and threatened him with castration if he didn’t keep her under control,” Paddy supplied.

  “Move them next door to Warrick,” Hawksblood directed.

  Christian Hawksblood inspected the master suite to see that all was in readiness to receive his wife. He nodded with satisfaction. Paddy had directed the servants well. The room was all white with touches of gold. The bed was low and wide, covered with snowy linen and piled with bolsters and pillows embroidered with the initials of C and B in gold thread. Filmy white silk gauze hung from ceiling to floor, surrounding the bed.


  White shutters were folded back making the open balconies part of the large, airy chamber. One entire wall was a built-in wardrobe with mirrored doors. The floor of white Carrara marble veined with gold was guaranteed to provide coolness on the hottest nights.

  In one corner, marble steps led down to the room below where a rectangular bathing pool ran its entire length. The room was open-ended so that the pool flowed outside into a small private garden. Beyond the pool, a turquoise tile fountain sprayed crystal drops of water ten feet into the air. The entire house was lighted by huge scented candles in round glass bowls. The effect was almost mystical and decidedly romantic.

  Christian Hawksblood, however, looked anything but romantic. His clothes were soiled with the sweat and blood of his labors of the past eighteen hours, and he stank of horseflesh. He wanted a bath, but he was damned if he was going to bathe alone when Brianna was right here in this enchanting palace he had provided for her.

  He pushed away his tiredness, then allowed all his annoyances to drain away. He cocked an eyebrow at Paddy. “Milady’s chamber?”

  His squire told him where he could find his wife, muttering, “I’ll bid ye good night, I cannot stand the sight o’ blood.”

  Hawksblood climbed the curving staircase and came to a halt outside his wife’s door. In a quiet but firm voice he said, “Brianna, I welcome you to your new home. I expect you to greet me as your lord. I need bathing, feeding, and bedding, in that order. Come to me, now.”

  Secure inside the pink chamber with the key firmly gripped in her palm, Brianna at last had an outlet for her fury. “You Arabian swine! I don’t know how you have the unmitigated gall to even speak my name. I shall never bathe you, I shall never feed you, and I shall certainly never bed you again! I suggest you bathe yourself, ask the servants to feed you, and allow your French harlot to bed you. You have no need for a wife whatsoever, and I shall cease to be your wife until that creature is removed from my home, permanently! Is that perfectly clear, Prince Bloody Drakkar?”