Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

He drew back his hand, but then got a grip on himself and slowly lowered it to his side. Very slowly he turned away from her. He said over his shoulder, “If you leave this room, you will wish you had not.”

He tossed on his bedrobe, belted it, and returned to her. “Take off your clothes,” he said very softly.

“Nay,” she said, her voice a croak.

He shrugged, and very deliberately tore away her olive-green wool gown. She tried to struggle against him, but it was useless and she knew it. She would only hurt herself. When she was naked and trembling before him, he stepped back, a cruel light in his dark eyes, and thoughtfully began stroking his chin. “Aye, you have become quite the woman, have you not, wife? Such lovely breasts you have now. And that soft little belly of yours.”

She did not try to cover her body from his eyes. Instead, she clapped her hands over her ears to block out his cruel words.

He laughed, picked her up in his arms, and carried her to the bed. He tossed her down upon her back. “Hold still,” he said coldly. There could be no greater humiliation, she thought, as he pulled her legs apart and looked down at her. She flinched when he ran his hand over her.

“So,” he said, straightening. “if a child does grow in your belly, it will be mine. At least this time.”

Kassia rolled over onto her side and drew her legs up. Great sobs built up, pounding against her chest, tearing from her throat.

Graelam stared down at her, hating himself for the pain he was feeling at her suffering, hating himself for wanting to gather her into his arms and stroke her and soothe her and caress her.

“Get under the covers,” he said harshly. When she did not move, he lifted her roughly and placed her beneath them himself.

“There is no choice, my baby. You cannot remain here longer.”

Kassia sighed and nodded, knowing Etta was right.

Still, she clutched Etta’s arm before she stiffened her back and walked down into the great hall. She heard the clatter of horses’ hooves from the inner bailey and wondered with a mixture of relief and pain if Graelam were leaving again. She stood quietly at the top of the steps and watched Sir Walter and three men preparing to ride out. Had Graelam dismissed the man from his service? Hope leapt in her breast. She started forward, only to stop abruptly when Graelam, as if sensing her presence, turned to look at her. The bright morning sun gleamed down on his thick dark hair. For a brief moment she saw him as she had when he had held her so tightly against him, whispering love words whilst he gave her pleasure. Her hands clenched, remembering the feel of his flesh, the tautness of his muscled body. He strode toward her and she remained where she was, watching him in wary silence.

He said nothing, merely looked at her, his face expressionless. Finally he said, “Do you not wish to know where Sir Walter goes?”

“Aye,” she said.

He remained silent and she burst out, “Have you dismissed him?”

He gave a brief, harsh laugh. “Nay, wife, I have made him the new castellan of Crandall. He goes to relieve Rolfe, who now holds the keep.”

“You have . . . rewarded him? After all that he did?”

“Tell me, Kassia,” he said quietly, striding up the steps toward her, “tell me once again why you had Dienwald de Fortenberry return you to Wolffeton. Tell me why you did not stay with him or have him take you back to your father. Tell me why you did not leave with him last night.”

She closed her eyes against the dull anger in his dark eyes. “I never left you, Graelam. When he asked me if I wished him to take me to Brittany, I told him that I wanted to go home.” Her voice was singsong, as if she was reciting a litany.

“And did he refuse to take you with him last night?”

She shook her head.

“Ah, so he did want to take you with him when he escaped?”

She stared at him like a wounded animal who knows that the hunter taunts, waiting to deliver the killing blow. She nodded. The blow came quickly.

“Why did you not go with him?”

“I told him that he was sentencing me to hell if he escaped.”

“Why did you not go with him?” The repeated words, though softly spoken, held such menace that she shivered.

It did not occur to her to lie. She said quietly, “I could not go with him because you are my husband, and I love you.”

Graelam sucked in his breath as if he had been struck in the belly. For an instant, something deep inside him seemed to expand, filling him with inexplicable joy. The feeling quickly shriveled and died. “That was quite good, my lady,” he said, the sneering sarcasm in his voice making her flinch. “So, your handsome lover did not ask you to go with him. Did he suggest to you that you might tell me that lie to calm my . . . ire?”

“No,” she whispered.