A Knight In Her Arms(10)

“What have you to say, Hugo?” she demanded.

The seneschal grimaced as Simon thrust him away, stumbling and regaining his feet with difficulty. “You do not know what is best for you, lady,” he muttered. “When Lord Hamon ruled Godestone all was well, but now . . . It is time for a man to rule again.”

“You oaf,” Simon burst out. “Hamon was a monster.”

Isabella held up her hand. “Put him in the dungeon, Simon, and let him consider where his loyalties lie.”

“Wait!” Alric came striding into the great hall, his hand on his sword, “What is Freemantle planning? You must know. Tell us!”

It took a while, and once Isabella had to turn away, but eventually Hugo told them what he knew. He was planning to show them the way in through the cellars, unlocking the doors that ran under the castle walls to a hidden entrance that was known only by a few. Alric decided this might be the way to capture Freemantle, and sent one of his own men in Hugo’s place, to set the trap. Then he sent men at once to guard the door to the hidden tunnel and to wait.

It wasn’t long before Freemantle himself was captured and brought before them. When she saw him Isabella trembled inside. She had never been so glad that Alric was here. Freemantle had not long been locked up with Hugo in the dungeon when there was another call from the gates that many more men had arrived. Without Freemantle, and faced with a much larger force, his men melted away.

Alric smiled. “Stephen’s men,” he said.

“There is a man with a scarred face who demands entry. He says his name is Lord Wulfrich.”

“My friend!” Alric clasped the knight’s hand when they met in the bailey. Wolf, as he was known, a dark haired man with a badly scarred face, smiled back.

“I thought you might need a hand,” Lord Wulfrich spoke in a husky voice. “I’m on my way to Kendall Castle to reclaim my inheritance and I thought I might stop by.”

Alric chuckled. “Well you have my thanks, friend.”

“And mine,” Isabella declared, coming to meet him with her head held high. “I am Lady Isabella and Godestone belongs to me.”

“Ah, the beautiful Lady Isabella,” Wolf said with a surprised lift of his eyebrows. “I have heard your name so many times, lady, I admit to being heartily tired of it. But I see now why Alric could not forget you.”

Isabella, reminded again of her lapse of memory, felt stricken. But there was no time to say anything, with the army to house and feed, and Freemantle to send in chains to Stephen. It was much later when finally she and Alric were once more alone in her chamber.

She’d forced him to sit down in her carved chair, a stool under his foot to elevate his swollen leg, and now she knelt at his side and took his hands in hers. Gazing up anxiously into his handsome face she could see no ill feeling, nothing but warm tenderness in his blue eyes.

“When Hamon married me I was in a terribly dark place, Alric. I could not think of anything but surviving, and I think if I’d thought of you and how happy I could have been . . . I think I would have thrown myself from the tower. When he died there was only the ruling of Godestone to keep me going and I never looked back. Do you understand why I did not recognise you now?”

“My love,” he whispered, and pulled her up onto his lap, wrapping his arms tight about her. “If I’d known what was happening I would have come to your rescue.”

Isabella gave a laugh that was almost a sob. “You were too young then, but you’ve come now. You are here now.”

He tilted up her chin. “I don’t want to leave you. Do you think we can find some way of ruling both Godestone and Wenton, without living so far apart? I know how determined you are to remain the Lady of Godestone but I don’t want to lose you again, Isabella.”

“Nor me you, Alric.”

He looked thoughtful. “Perhaps we can have two sons, one for Godestone and one for Wenton.”

“Or two daughters,” Isabella retorted.

“Two Ice Maidens,” he murmured softly, and, when she shot him an anxious glance, grinned. Isabella, realising he was teasing, stretched up to kiss his mouth. Instantly her body was on fire, aching for his touch, and she wrapped her arms about him, kissing him passionately.

Alric forgot his leg, his arms full of Isabella. As he untied her braid, letting her long hair cloak them, she began to unlace his breeches with a wicked glance. “I am a changed woman,” she murmured, stroking his cock. “You have changed me, Alric. You have made me realise how wonderful lovemaking can be.”

He was lifting up her skirts and finding the hot moist core of her, before arranging her thighs either side of his hips on the chair and sliding into her with a deep groan. “You haven’t changed, beloved,” he murmured against her mouth, as they settled into a slow, deep rhythm. “You are still my sweet Isabella, the girl I was betrothed to when I was fifteen and you were eleven.”