Juliet Landon - The Maiden's Abduction

Isolde felt herself trembling, but pulled herself up as tall as she could despite the tightness in her lungs. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t see. I don’t see at all. What’s happened? Have we been blown off course by the storm? Is that it?’

Silas allowed the roll to spring back, and she knew by his slow straightening, his watchful air, his whole stance, that he was preparing for her reaction. His shaking head confirmed that there was more to come. ‘No, mistress, there was no storm last night. That was just weather. We are on course.’

‘On course for where? Hull is behind us now.’

‘Yes. We are heading for Flanders. We always were.’

The room swam.

‘No,’ she said, breathless now. ‘No, sir. You may be, but I am not heading for Flanders. Turn this ship round immediately. Immediately! Do you hear me?’ She whirled, heading for the door, the master, anybody. But once again he was there before her, and this time, with no one to witness, he caught her in a bear hug and swung her round to face him, wedging her against the door with his body. All the defences that she had been taught, which were supposed to be crippling to an attacker, were useless, for her feet were somewhere to the side, her hands were splayed above her head, and the shock had numbed her. Worse still, the reality which had been hovering out of reach all day now descended with cruel precision, wounding her, making this new and frightening restraint all the more unbearable.

She fought him with all her strength, refusing to call for help. This was his ship. These were his men. No one would interfere. She was more alone than she had ever been before, and her anger roared in her ears. ‘I was a fool to trust you,’ she snarled, twisting in his grip. ‘I was a fool. You and your confounded brother. I should have seen what was happening. This is for Felicia, isn’t it? And I walked straight into the trap. Fool…fool…what an idiot!’

‘If that’s what you want to believe, believe it,’ he said, drawing her hands slowly down to the small of her back. ‘It makes little difference what you believe, except that you’re going to Flanders.’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you!’

‘You’d have gone anywhere with my brother.’

‘I would not! I had no intention of staying in York with him: I was using him to get away from that place, that’s all. Otherwise I would never consort with a La Vallon.’

‘You’ll consort with the La Vallons whether you like it or not, wench.’ He lifted her easily, as he would have done a child. ‘And you’re wrong again. My brother is no part of my plans.’

‘I don’t believe you. Put me down! No…oh, no!’ The soft bed hit her with a thud from behind and then, as she rolled away, the panelled wall cracked into her forehead. Stunned and utterly confused, she felt him pull her back and capture her wrist, tucking her other arm safely behind his back where she felt only a broad expanse of silky leather. Immediately his long legs and body were sprawled across her, holding her immobile and shaming her by their closeness. His brother had never been as close to her as this. Never.

With closed eyes and clenched jaws, she waited for what she was sure would happen next, though she had no details to guide her. When all she experienced was the deep rocking of the ship nosing its way through the water and the rhythmic thud-thud on the sides, she opened them, warily.

He was leaning on one elbow and looking down at her face, his eyes wandering over hair and skin and finally coming to rest in hers. ‘Well?’ he whispered. ‘You think I’m about to rape you?’

She gulped. ‘Aren’t you?’

To her relief, he did not smile. ‘No. You’ll come to me without that.’

His sentiment was so totally absurd that it was not worth an answer, and she looked away disdainfully. The memory of his regard at supper had scarcely left her, and the details of his contact over the last twenty-four hours had imprinted themselves upon almost every one of her waking thoughts. But the idea that she would ever give herself to him willingly after this unforgivable treatment was quite ridiculous. She would take the first opportunity to free herself.

She squirmed, and felt his legs tighten their hold. ‘This is unworthy of you, sir. Let me go now. You must know that this is not the way to avenge your family for the abduction of your sister. You knew—?’

‘About Felicia and your father? Of course I knew. Even before Bard told me.’

So. That was what she had thought. ‘And he plotted with you to do the same?’

‘No, he didn’t. I’ve told you, Bard is not part of my plans. He never has been.’

Her green eyes flashed like sunlight over mossy waters. ‘Rubbish! Don’t tell me he’ll be standing there on the quay at York waiting for you to deliver me, as you said you’d do.’

‘He will. He’ll wait and wait, and then he’ll begin to ask questions, and he’ll discover that I’m not due at York. We called there before Scarborough, so the cargo we’re carrying is for Flanders. Poor Bard.’ His tone was anything but concerned, and Isolde was tempted to believe him.

‘I believed you before, but I’ll not do it again, sir.’

‘That’s sad. Now I shall have to resort to more believable methods.’

She realised what he was about to do, and, when she thought about it later, knew that she could have made it more difficult for him, though not impossible. But his eyes held her every bit as surely as they had done before, and she could already feel the warmth of him on her skin, see his head blotting out the last of the dim light in the recessed bunk. Her eyelids closed under the infinitely slow exploration of his lips upon her face, and even then she wondered why she was doing nothing to resist it. Bard’s kisses had always held more than a hint of selfishness, intended to impress but never to close her mind, as she felt his brother’s doing.

Slowly, and with practised skill, he kept her mouth waiting until she moved her head to follow him, luring her on towards the sublime capture, the first taste of his mouth on hers. And with restraint, without even hinting that this moment was, for him, the assuaging of an ache that had threatened to devour him, he left the full impact of it until she moaned and softened under him, until he felt one hand move impatiently across his back. Then he released her wrist and slid an arm beneath her back to gather her up to him as he had done during that long look which had so puzzled and intrigued her.

The reality of it far surpassed anything either of them could have imagined in the hours since they had met, and there had been plenty of imagining on both sides. Yet there was a part of her that remained on an even keel, despite the weightlessness of her mind and the amazing sensations of her body. A part that reminded her of what she was about. Between his kisses came the cautionary voice, urging her to resist before it was too late. La Vallon. The enemy. Abduction. Flanders. Revenge. Obedient to the warning, she pushed at his shoulder, then his chin, tearing her mouth away. ‘No…no…no!’

He gave her a chance to offer reasons, but she could remember nothing that would have convinced him of her unwillingness except a turn of her head and more denials. His voice was husky with wanting. ‘It’s no wonder my brother came after you so fast, maid, if that’s how it was with him, too.’

It was, she thought, a particularly insensitive remark for him to have made, and she was at once angered and sobered by the need to rebut it. How could he kiss her so and believe that her response was common to both brothers? If she had been able to read his mind, she would have seen there the instant regret of one who had been as much shaken as she. But by then it was too late.