Colette Gale - Bound by Honor

Aye, the man’s loyalty was worth more than the riding of a woman, but John intended to find a way to have both.

“She does not seem the worse for her experience this Nones,” John commented to Will idly. His eyes fastened on the lady in question, who seemed to be finding that brickhead Lord Burle quite fascinating.

Nottingham drank from his goblet, then settled it precisely on the trestle in front of them. “To the contrary,” he replied. “The lady wishes nothing more than to retire to her chamber after the meal. She claims, to anyone who will listen, of an ache in the head.” He gave a knowing rumble of laughter and drank again.

John chuckled along with him, suddenly full of good humor. His tactic had become clear, and he cast a sharp eye on the amount of wine the man next to him was drinking, with the intent of increasing it generously. “An ache in the head? I should have expected one elsewhere.”

Nottingham settled his goblet once again. “Aye, and mayhap elsewhere as well. I thought to give her a chance to contemplate her. . options. . this night. Mayhap after taking her ease, she will be more interested in the lessoning I mean to give her.”

Unfortunately for her, John had no intent of leaving that lovely piece to wallow in her chamber alone this evening. Smiling, he gulped largely from his own wine. His mother might be a bullheaded manipulator who loved her elder son best, but she was immeasurably generous with the excellent wines from her lands. And in addition to that, she’d bestowed upon her youngest son her own crafty mind. Which he had put to good use in planning strategies for overthrowing his brother. . and for luring gentlewomen into his bed.

“Indeed. Then I must presume your visit to the Court of Pleasure this evening will be solitary.”

John smiled to himself, as he did every time he uttered the phrase of his own making. Court of Pleasure. A more earthy, hedonistic version of his mother’s famed Court of Love.

“Aye, that it will,” Nottingham replied.

John frowned behind his goblet. He’d expected the other man to seize an excuse to decline the invitation. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Nottingham had seemed less than enamored of the pleasure taking as of late. Oh, he participated. . or, more accurately, most often watched and occasionally partook from a willing maidservant. . but more likely than not, he merely provided the audience for John’s activities.

Then John’s eyes narrowed in speculation. Mayhap this would work out best after all. If Nottingham arrived before Marian and was otherwise occupied-or incapacitated-when the lady arrived. . it would be incumbent upon the host to make her feel welcome.

He gestured for the page behind them to refill their goblets.

John was, if naught else, a most accommodating host.

“Come in, come in, my lady.”

Marian hesitated on the threshold. She did not wish to take that step over, into the chamber, into the den of iniquity. John’s voice sounded jovial, but there was an underlying command beneath it.

Her palms damp but her head held high, she stepped into the room and the door closed behind her.

Already this was very different from last night’s experience.

Will had escorted her back to her chamber after the evening meal and bidden her good evening. She’d gone eagerly inside, fully aware that he’d said nary a word to her but “Let us go” when he approached her in the great hall, and “Good evening” when he left as soon as she was inside the chamber.

Nor had he looked at her, other than a quick impersonal glance, during the few moments they were together. He simply walked with long strides next to her, his solid arm angled out for her fingertips to curl around, his thigh brushing occasionally against her gown. This all made her exceedingly aware of his presence, his size, his strength. . and what had occurred in her chamber earlier this day.

When they reached her accommodations, Ethelberga had been there, and she’d helped her mistress disrobe and prepare for bed-a circumstance Marian had readily welcomed. Despite the fact that she had left the hall before the evening’s entertainment ended, and the sun still sat above the horizon, she was glad to be in the solitude-and relative safety-of her chamber.

But no more than two candle marks later, when the sun had barely set and the bailey below had not yet begun to quiet for the night, a solid pounding came at her door. Marian’s heart leapt into her throat and she considered ignoring the knocking. Ethelberga had been dismissed and had gone belowstairs to visit with some of the other maidservants-and mayhap a handsome groom or two-and there was no one but Marian to answer the determined knock.

It could be Will. Likely it was. Her stomach gave another flutter and she resisted the urge to look toward the horse-eye peephole.

The knocking did not cease, and she had no choice but to respond. But when she opened the door, she found it was not Will, as she’d expected. And, in truth, half anticipated.

Nor was it Robin.

Thus, even before he spoke, when Marian saw the page standing outside the door, she knew he would say, “The prince requires your presence, milady.” Knowing she could not deny a royal summons, despite the sharp pinching of her insides and the parched sensation in her mouth, she quickly dressed and pulled on a enveloping cloak, drawing the deep hood up and over to shadow her face and hair. At the least she could attempt to avoid being recognized by anyone who might wonder why she was about alone. . and going to the prince’s chambers.

The page walked quickly, and was followed by a stoic man-at-arms who joined the party as they made their way to the third level of the keep. Apparently, John was taking no chances that Marian might get lost or otherwise delayed.

And here she was now, the door bumping closed in her wake, most definitely not lost or delayed.

As before, the room, which stretched well to her right and not quite so far to her left, was lit by candles and sconces throughout. The number of candles, along with two fires that blazed at either end of the chamber, gave off a sensual golden glow that cast yellow and bronze and brown across the room’s furnishings and occupants.

She smelled the heavy rich scent of good wine and something else. . a lingering, musky, close smell that hung in the air. It mingled with the ever-present wisps of smoke and settled a sort of lethargy over her.

“My lady.” John’s mellow voice came again, and she looked to the right, seeing him for the first time.

He sat on the side of the room where the bed was, where the two women had rolled and kissed and touched the night before. Marian caught a glimpse through the half-open bed-curtains of a woman’s bare leg, the rise of a hip, and other human-shaped shadows within. Mayhap the girls had already completed this night’s performance and now took their ease.

Her suspicion of this was reinforced when she noticed that, instead of having a woman kneeling in front of him with her face buried between his legs, the prince sat in a low chair. On a table within easy reach was a flagon of wine and several goblets. In front of him was the human chessboard-a nude woman on her hands and knees with an arrangement of low, squat chess pieces on her back.

Marian didn’t know if it was the same woman who’d been there last night. She wouldn’t have recognized her even if it was, for the woman’s rear end faced her, knees apart, the hair of her quim readily visible between her spread legs.

“My lord,” Marian replied, her voice low. Her mouth was dry and her palms were slick. She was torn between looking around the room to see what other surprises might lurk in the shadowy corners-and whether mayhap Will was there-and keeping her attention on the prince, to shield herself in ignorance.