“Lies, quite good ones actually, flow so easily from your pretty mouth, my lady. Such a pity that you did not wed a man who is a gullible fool.”
Anger flowed through her and she thrust her chin up. “I did not marry any man. If you will recall, my lord, I had no choice in the matter. And it appears that my husband is a fool!”
“Get out of my sight,” he said in a deadly voice. “Go, before I thrash you.”
She clutched her gown in her hands and fled back up the stairs.
Kassia did not see him until the early-evening meal. The tension among the men was palpable, as thick and tangible as the slabs of beef on the trays. Graelam said nothing to her, and she listened while he and his men discussed the situation at Crandall. There had been some fighting by the few soldiers loyal to the castellan, de Cercy, who held the keep.
She heard Ian, a young man-at arms who worshiped Graelam, say reverently, “You dispatched that whoreson so quickly, my lord. He was no match for your strength.”
Who, Kassia wondered. De Cercy?
“He had become lazy from greed,” Graelam said in a dismissing voice.
She wanted to ask him what he expected Sir Walter to do, but she held her tongue. As the men recounted in great detail each bout with the enemy, Kassia lost what little appetite she had. She left the table very quietly while Graelam was held in close conversation with Blount.
The gown she was sewing awaited her, but she did not touch it. Why should she? There would be no place she could wear such a beautiful garment. And it was beautiful, special. Blue satin, its sleeves long and closely fitted, its skirt flowing, fitted to her waist with a leather girdle threaded with gold and silver. She paced across the thick carpet, her thoughts in a blank whirl.
“I thought I had made it clear to you, Kassia, that you were not to leave unless you had secured my permission.”
How could he walk so silently, she wondered frantically, and he was so large?
“Forgive me,” she said. “You appeared very interested in your talk. I did not wish to disturb you.”
Graelam said nothing. His eyes lit upon the luxurious blue satin material, and he walked to it and lifted it, stroking it in his hands. “You will look quite lovely in this. I told you, did I not, that the cloth came from Acre?” He continued to caress the material, looking thoughtful. Suddenly he tossed the material aside. “You will need some ornament to wear with it. I believe this will look quite dramatic.” He pulled something from the inside of his tunic and tossed it to her.
She caught it, and stared down at the heavy golden necklace studded with gems of incredible beauty. “It is lovely,” she began. She raised bewildered eyes to his set face. “Why do you give it to me, my lord?”
“Will you forever playact with me, my lady? I fancy you recognize the necklace. You should. It has caused you a great deal of difficulty.”
She sucked in her breath, dropping the necklace as if it were a snake that had bitten her. “It is the necklace Blanche gave to de Fortenberry,” she said dully, staring at the tangled heap of gold on the carpet at her feet. The gems winked up at her, taunting her. “Where did you get it?”
“A groom found it in de Fortenberry’s cell, hidden in some straw. I imagine that it must have dropped from his clothing. I also imagine that he was bringing it back to you.”
Kassia raised pain-filled eyes to his face. “Aye,” she said slowly. “He must have forgotten about it.”
Graelam regarded her silently. He was a fool, he realized, to feel cold and sad at the sight of her pain. He said finally, “Have you bathed away the stench of the dungeons?”
She nodded blankly.
“Get into bed. I have gone many days without a woman.”
She did not argue with him, or attempt to plead with him. It would gain her naught, she knew. Slowly she removed her clothes, folding each item carefully. She slipped into bed, naked, and closed her eyes.
She felt his hands stroking over her cold flesh. She thought he would simply force her quickly and be done with it. But he did not. He was undemanding, finding her mouth and kissing her slowly, gently, while his hand cupped her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple. To her horror, she felt her body leap in reponse. He had taught her well, too well, and her body was not in her mind’s control.
Graelam felt her slender arms go around his back, and he smiled grimly as he kissed her throat. He knew how to arouse her, and he watched her face as his fingers found her moist softness. She moaned softly, arching up against him. He moved down her body, touching and stroking every inch of her soft flesh. When he gathered her hips in his hands and lifted her to his mouth, he looked at her face. He could see the building passion in her eyes, and something else, a flicker of pain. He lowered his head and brought her closer to her release. She cried out, thrashing wildly, her head arched back against the pillow.
But he did not allow her release. He left her abruptly, raised himself above h
er, and thrust into her. He cupped her face between his hands, holding her still, willing her to look at him.
“Tell me the truth, Kassia. Tell me, and I will forgive you.”
Her body froze, and all pleasure disappeared as if it had never awakened.
“Tell me,” he said more harshly, his voice matching the rough thrusting into her body.