Page 120 of Tempted
The crowd gasped as a swarthy Gypsy man stepped forward with a matched set of shiny silver knives. A cry escaped Tina’s lips. The man was Ram Douglas, and she knew exactly how dangerous and reckless he could be If he thought he could prevent war for Scotland and James Stewart by assassinating Henry Tudor, he was valiant enough to attempt it.
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “What is amiss? Do you know the man?”
“Nay, Your Highness,” she said, drawing her hand firmly from his loins. “I have cut my finger on one of your jewels.”
“Surely it was no more than a prick, sweeting,” he jested bawdily. The king leaned forward, keenly watching as the beautiful Gypsy girl began to spin on the wheel and her swarthy, brooding partner with the dangerous eyes took deadly aim.
Valentina had never been so tense in her life. Her emotions spun faster than Zara’s as she watched Ram throw the silver knives. She was breathlessly afraid that Zara would be killed or maimed. Yet overriding this fear was the dread that Ram would fling a knife into the King of England. The thing that really terrified her, however, was what Ram Douglas would do to her when he got his hands on her. He had watched Henry Tudor paw and caress her body, almost making public love to her.
If only this were a nightmare from which she would awaken! She had not yet confronted the mental horror of submitting to the king when he tired of these revels and the Gypsy music fired his blood to the point where he would demand she leave with him. Tina closed her eyes, not daring to watch the spectacle before her that was exciting the crowd.
When the next-to-last knife was thrown and entered the target between the Gypsy girl’s wide-open legs, just touching her mons, the audience went wild. The knife handle looked exactly like a large phallus, and Zara writhed upon the wheel as if it had been plunged deep inside her. Henry gripped the arms of the carved chair with intense excitement. His erection had hardened to such a degree, he felt almost ready to spill.
The onlookers gave a collective sigh of sadness as the Gypsy girl pretended to die, and her head fell forward just in time for the last knife to enter the target where only seconds before her head had rested.
Henry’s eyes were glossy with desire, his mouth slack. As the crowd rose to its feet and cheered the performance, Tina leaned over to Henry and whispered Zara’s secret into his ear. He looked at her with disbelief.
“Would you like to meet the girl, Your Majesty?” asked Tina, holding her breath.
He nodded avidly and began to stroke himself. Tina stood up and went to the edge of the platform. She avoided the murderous eyes of Black Ram Douglas and beckoned to the Gypsy girl who strutted forward immediately.
“Your Majesty, may I present Zara?”
Henry took the girl’s hand, and Tina quietly faded back into the shadows.
Where is Ada? Dear God, let me escape! She slipped quickly past the pavilions and got all the way to the gardens of the palace before she realized she was being followed. Where could she go? The king had had her watched all day, so that it had been impossible to get away from him. The last place she had wanted to be tonight was in her bedchamber at Greenwich, for when the oak panel opened she would be trapped for the night with Henry Tudor. And yet now that his watchdog was on her trail, she reasoned that perhaps if he followed her to her door, he would think she intended to rendezvous with the king and leave off following her for the night.
Like a vixen being run to earth, Tina fled through the garden and into the corridors of Greenwich, hoping Ada would somehow find her. She could still hear the stealthy footsteps approaching as she opened her chamber door and stepped into the darkness. She would wait for perhaps a quarter of an hour and then she would slip away from Greenwich, away from London, away from Henry Tudor forever.
Suddenly she was grabbed from behind. She was gagged and trussed, then something like a blanket was dropped over her head, and she was picked up and carried off. She could not kick, she could not scream. Everything was so black, she could not see, and even sounds came to her muffled and indistinct.
Tina was so afraid, she could not control her trembling, but she knew she must breathe slowly and not panic, or the terrifying sensation of suffocation would overwhelm her. She presumed she would be carried up the secret staircase to the king’s apartments, but she soon realized she was being carried much farther than that. When she was finally set down, she knew she was in a boat upon the river. There was no mistaking the roll of a deck or the muffled sounds of the water.
Some of Tina’s fear was replaced by anger. The king’s words came back to her with a rush. By kidnapping her and carrying her off to another palace, he was fulfilling some sort of sexual fantasy. He was so childish, she wanted to scream. Henry Tudor had to have his own way about everything, and there were scores of sycophants and toadies about him who would cater to his every sick whim.
Her temper was building dangerously. When she was delivered at the king’s feet, she would explode and allow her temper full rein. She didn’t give a damn that he was King of England—he wasn’t her king, and he had no jurisdiction over her whatsoever. To Tina he was just a man, a gross, greedy, spoiled, and dominating male who grabbed whatever he fancied, no matter the cost to others.
It came to her that she had been upon the river for an inordinately long time. Finally her assailant picked her up again as if she were a sack of grain and carried her off the vessel. He carried her a long, long way, and then she felt herself being handed over to another. This one slung her over his shoulder and strode on. With her head hanging down it was difficult to breathe, and she became quite disoriented. When she was finally laid down upon her side, Tina’s head was spinning so badly, she imagined she could still feel the rocking motion of the boat.
Tina lay there for what seemed like hours. No one came to release her, and she wondered wildly if she had been carried off and secretly imprisoned. Perhaps the king had set watchdogs on Ram and Heath as well as herself and their plot had been discovered. Perhaps she had been taken down the river to the Tower of London and carried over Traitor’s Bridge, through Traitor’s Gate, and into the bowels of the brooding fortalice.
Nay, she must stop her imagination from running amok This little caper was designed to weaken her resistance and bring her to her knees. She would try to rest while she could and gather her strength for the moment she would come face to face with the lecherous, rampant Henry.
Tina must have been drowsing. Suddenly she became aware of a man’s firm grip as she felt her ankles being untied, then her wrists behind her back were, freed and she snatched off the blanket that had almost smothered her and clawed the gag from her mouth. “You filthy whoreson!” she screamed, momentarily blinded by the rush of light and her own fury. Her face registered total shock as she stared into the pewter eyes of Black Ram Douglas. Her own fury was as nothing compared to the fury she saw in those accusing eyes. In that moment it would have been far easier to face Henry Tudor.
“I never want tae see that dress again,” he said between his teeth, reaching out a powerful hand to tear it from neck to hem.
Tina flew at him with nails and teeth bared. “His paw prints are on the gown because I wouldn’t let him put them on my body!”
Ram grabbed her and slammed her against his hard length, but her hands still tore at his hair and the black shirt he wore.
“What about you?” she cried angrily. “Zara’s hands have been all over your damned body!”
Suddenly Ram’s arms pressed her close, so that her face was against his heart, and he was raining kisses upon her lovely, disheveled hair Despite her faithlessness she was still in his blood. “We are both so insane with jealousy, we can think of nothing else. I have to get us safely out of English waters—the Revenge won’t sail herself.”
Her eyes widened. “You got your ship back?”
He took his arms from her. “What is mine, I keep,” he said quietly. “Ada is in the next cabin,” he informed her before departing Ram Douglas had to get away from her so that he could think clearly. If he hadn’t kissed her, he might have killed her. Seeing her play king’s whore had almost sent him over the edge of his control No one would ever know how close he had come to hurling the silver knives into the hearts of Henry Tudor and the female with whom he had been handclasped.
