Page 95 of Her Dark Seduction
“Forgive me,” I said, my voice hoarse from the smoke in my lungs. “I—I had no wish to bring disgrace on my—my lover.”
“Mayhap I will release you,” Henry said casually, “though I am minded to continue, to ensure England is purged of traitors.”
De Beauvane wrapped his arms around me. “I would beg you to be merciful. Grant your loyal servant this one wish.” He dipped his head as if to brush a kiss on my neck and whispered harshly in my ear.
“Madam, you must play the part of the loving mistress lest Henry change his mind. With the throne he inherited a legacy of treachery. He’s not known for a forgiving nature, or a gentle disposition. Do as I say or you’ll never leave this place alive.”
“But…” His grip increased, and I groaned in pain.
“Your arm hurts does it not?”
I shivered at the coldness in his voice, the iron strength of his hold on me. No wonder Papa and de Tourrard had been afraid of him.
“Obey me,” he said, “or I’ll abandon you to your fate here. I pray to God you are worth the risk I take today. I dislike the notion of wagering the lives of good men to save that of a treacherous whore.”
“I am no—” I began indignantly, but he silenced me with an angry word.
“Having trouble disciplining your mistress, Sir Roger?” The king chuckled.
The man who believed himself my savior, but who I only saw as my new tormentor, replied with equal amusement.
“Of course not.”
“If she’s worth your trouble, I may keep her for myself. Would you give her to me?”
“If my lord wishes.”
The two men exchanged more words, their discussion growing more cordial until de Beauvane let out a shout of laughter. I hated them for bartering over me as if I were a vat of wine to be consumed casually as they saw fit. Eventually, the king relented.
“Very well,” he sighed, “she’s not particularly pleasing on the eye, so you may keep her. Take her away.”
“Put your arms around my neck,” de Beauvane ordered. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to his horse before handing me to one of his men while he mounted. At his nod, I was lifted like a sack of grain onto the saddle in front of him.
“To me!” he cried to his men, then he bowed to the king, and rode out of the courtyard.
Yet another man had claimed me as his property for a reason I did not know.
After riding several miles, de Beauvane ordered the party to stop. He motioned to one of his men who drew his horse alongside us. De Beauvane handed me over to him. The man’s horse was smaller than de Beauvane’s, and he took my arms to prevent me from falling.
“Have a care of her arm, Oliver, ’tis broken.”
“Aye my lord.”
Oliver smiled, and I recognized him.
“Father!”
“I’m afraid not, my lady,” he said. “Forgive my deception.”
We resumed our journey, de Beauvane leading the party.
“Who is de Beauvane?” I asked.
“One of King Henry’s most trusted warlords,” Oliver replied, pride in his voice.
“You admire him.”
“How could I not? He is renowned for his loyalty, having never changed his allegiance. He fought for Matilda under Stephen’s reign. Since Henry came to the throne, de Beauvane has thwarted several plots against him, infiltrating traitors with his network of spies. He’s a great warrior and a brilliant strategist.”
