Turning away, Marian tasted something foul deep in the back of her throat. Her fingers still trembled, and she could not forget the feel of him moving against her, inside her. . nor his flat, expressionless eyes. As if he despised what he was doing.
Yet, he took pleasure from it. She knew it. She’d felt it. . She’d matched his rising lust with her own.
She pushed the memories, the uneasiness, from her mind. She did not want John’s hands on her again tonight. . nor anyone else’s. She must get away before they realized she’d not received her full punishment.
There were bound to be guards outside the door. Dare she try to slip out? Would they allow it? Would an aborted attempt to escape only draw their attention back to Marian?
The fog of lust and need had filtered away, leaving her mind clearer than it had been for some time, and she cast a quick glance around this end of the chamber. This was her opportunity to see if she could find any evidence of John’s perfidy.
Keeping her attention half on the activities behind her, morbidly glad that Catherine made no attempt to keep her voice low, Marian crawled past the table of food and wine, toward the far end of the chamber. It was the only place that might hold messages or documents.
If she was caught, she could claim she was looking for the chamber pot.
Quickly, quickly, she hurried over, found a low table with a quill on it. Foolscap curled atop it, but Marian ignored those parchments. John wouldn’t leave important messages lying out in his chamber, even if he didn’t think his visitors could read.
Glancing behind her, noting that the others were still busy, she slipped beyond the table, staying low to the ground, and found a small chest. Mayhap. . she tried to open it, but the chest was locked. And then she saw a packet of oiled leather behind it. . one that might be used to protect important documents. Quickly, with trembling fingers, she untied it and began to unroll the packet.
She scanned the documents, quickly-difficult in the flickering candlelight-keeping one ear and eye trained on the activity at the other end of the chamber. . and was rewarded by the sight of a royal seal. Not of England, but of France. Of Philip Augustus.
Drawing in a deep breath, she knew she’d found something. . for John would have no reason to be in contact with Philip unless it was for some treacherous reason. But all she saw in the letter was the odd words, “The wild dog shall be contained. An emperor shall cage him.”
Hearing a change in the mood behind her, Marian quickly stuffed the parchments back into their leather wrap, rolling and tying it back into place. She’d barely shoved it behind the chest, back into its hiding place, when a pair of boots came into her view.
She looked up to find Will staring down at her, an inscrutable expression on his face. Dimly noting that he hadn’t even removed his footwear during the entire evening, Marian pulled to her feet-helped by his imperious hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a low, deathly voice. “Are you a fool?”
“I was searching for a chamber pot,” she replied breathlessly, no longer even bothering to attempt to cover herself.
“Liar,” he said, and thrust her away more sharply than necessary. “Do not let John find you sneaking about, or you’ll discover that tonight was a delight compared to what he can do.”
“Please,” she said, glancing past him, “may I leave? Will?” She cared not that she begged. She needed to escape from this place.
His mouth settled into a hard line, he gave a sharp nod. “Aye, ’tis safe enough now, for the others are beyond caring. But let us be quick.”
Once again, she bundled herself simply in a cloak, her clothing scrabbled up into her arms, and Will drew her firmly out the door. The guards did not try to stop them, but from the way they looked at them, Marian knew it would have been a mistake to try to leave on her own.
Will’s heavy footsteps rang dully on the stone floor, down the stairs, and over to the other side of the keep as she trotted along beside him. Back up to the chambers on the second floor, and to her door. This route too had become horribly familiar.
And, once more, he spoke not at all, gave nothing away with his expression. If possible, she found his face even more implacable, more unreadable.
When they reached her chamber, he opened the door and preceded her inside. Feeling awkward yet expectant, Marian followed, closing the door.
Ethelberga snored on her pallet, and Will made no move to send her away or awaken her.
He stalked into the rear chamber, and Marian followed, as if drawn by a string. When he turned to leave, he fairly walked into her, standing there in the entrance between the two rooms.
He froze as if afraid to move closer, and she saw his hand curl into a fist at his side.
She was fully aware of her nakedness beneath the cloak, and how tight the chamber felt. Warm and dark and close. . and how easily he’d slid inside her, how glorious it had felt.
Marian licked her lips, not certain why she stood there, why she’d moved thus. . what she wanted. Her heart pounded and she looked up into his face, saw the glitter in his eyes and the tight press of his lips. Tension filled the space, pounding in her ears along with her heartbeat, and she swallowed hard.
“You are not hurt,” he said suddenly, his voice low. The words came out like short little bites, as if dragged from deep within. He would not meet her eyes, but instead she felt his gaze score over her.
“Nay, Will. You. .” Her voice gave way, her mouth dried, as the awareness became too much to bear. How could she want him to touch her with those hands. . hands that had set fire to those houses, hands that would have gestured for the hanging…? Yet she did.
“I warned you,” he said in a harsh voice. “That you must submit. You made your choice.”
“Aye,” she breathed, surprised at the anger. Did he truly think she would have preferred John? She opened her mouth to tell him she’d wanted him-reached, even, to touch him-but he pulled her aside and brushed past, into the antechamber.
At the door to the passageway, a full room between them, he turned and looked at her. “I warn you again, Marian. . Do not allow John to find you reading his papers, or even I won’t be able to protect you.”
Then he was gone, leaving her alone. Suddenly bereft and empty.
And wondering if he would return to the Court of Pleasure. . and the sinuous white body of Lady Pauletta.
CHAPTER 12
Whenever Will had cause to spend any length of time with his knees grinding into a chapel’s stone floor, he was reminded of the night vigil before his knighting, more than a decade earlier. Long and silent, spent fully prone on his face, the hours had gone by in a drone of noiseless prayer and anticipation for the great accolade.
His life had changed that day, and until he’d become one of King Richard’s most trusted men, he’d had little trouble keeping the oaths he’d made before the archbishop of Canterbury. The oaths of loyalty to his liege, to honor God and protect women, to despise and renounce traitors.
Now the cold stone beneath his knees served as reminder of his faults, his weaknesses and failures. And, for the first time, Will could no longer see the way to fulfill those God-sworn oaths. There was no way to obey his liege while retaining his honor and protecting the weaker gender. . for to do one, he must renounce the other.
’Twas an appalling dilemma. One that had drawn him to the chapel, to his confessor, these last nights. . he’d come from the debauchery of John’s chambers to spend hours on his knees doing penance for the desire to forswear his vows. Seeking solace. Searching for an answer.
But at last, the balancing act had taken its toll, and he’d succumbed this night, stepping over the line and beyond reason. He gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes closed at the realization of what he’d done.
How far he’d gone.
The vow he’d shattered.
Even now, as he knelt, holding himself fully upright, his legs trembling from exhaustion, from lack of sleep
