The Knight's Prisoner (9 page)

She tried to see, but felt nothing. She shook her head slowly. “I'm not sure.”

“Would you know if you were near him? If you touched him?”

She considered that. “Mayhap. I'm not certain.”

“Come, let's walk the camp now,” he urged.

She cast a glance at Ferrum, who gave her an encouraging nod, and followed the prince out of the tent. He walked her all through the camp, but she sensed nothing. He continued the activity for two more days without luck, until at supper the second night she brushed by a man and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Ever observant, Ferrum saw her staring at the man's back from where he was resting outside their tent. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she nodded. Several moments later she was filled with anxiety. She may have just sent a man to his death—based on what—the way her skin prickled?

Ferrum had beckoned the prince over, and they were in deep conversation. She went and sat with them. “I may have made a mistake.”

The prince raised his eyebrows. “Why do you think so?”

“I mean—I just don't know. I don't think you should take my word on anything, really.”

“It's all right, Dani,” the prince said knowingly. “You just give me the clues. It's my duty to determine the truth of them.”

She stared at him. “Does that mean—?”

“He'll be questioned. How he answers will determine his fate—not your word.”

That gave her some relief. “Thank you, my lord.”

“For what?” he said, looking surprised.

She felt herself blush and shook her head. “For understanding,” she mumbled.

Ferrum reached up and squeezed her hand, smiling at her warmly, and she felt a little rush of pleasure.

Chapter Five

“Dani, when do you get your monthly blood?” They were in the woods, where he stood watch as she relieved herself.

A look of fear crossed her face, and he was instantly alert. Her mouth had gone tight, and the look in her eyes was almost hunted. She merely shrugged a response.

He caught her arm. “Are you with child?” he asked sharply.

She whirled to face him, the fear even greater in her face. “I can't be,” she snapped. He saw a hint of desperation in her expression. His gut clenched. Of course she wouldn't celebrate a pregnancy, especially not with him. Especially not if she were planning her escape. She pulled away from him and started walking back toward camp.

“But are you?” he asked gently, walking by her side.

She shook her head rapidly. “I'm telling you, I can't be,” she said through gritted teeth.

He stopped her, taking hold of her arms above the elbows and peering into her face. “I know it's not what you want, little flower, but I promise I will take very good care of you and our baby, if there is one.”

Her face flushed. “You don't understand, Ferrum,” she said. The cords of her neck stood out with the strain in her face. “I'm not
able
to have children. In London—” she stopped and heaved a sigh, her eyes rolling with frustration. “In London I used to take penny royal to keep from getting with child. But here I've had none to take.” She was wearing that desperate look again.

“What do you mean when you say you're not able to have children?” he asked slowly.

“I mean—” she gave another enormous sigh. “The first time I got pregnant I was fourteen years old. I lost it at seven months and nearly bled to death. The midwives said I shouldn't risk it again—that I might die.”

Fear coursed through his veins like ice water at her words, but he kept his face neutral. Adding to her fears would just make it worse. “Do you think you're pregnant now, Dani?” he asked her softly.

“I don't know,” she said, looking miserable. “It might just be my body doesn't know what to do without the herbs,” she shrugged. `

He nodded slowly. “We'll get you the penny royal. We'll ask at every village until we find some. All right? It will be all right.” He knew he was reassuring himself as much as her. He prayed she would be safe.

* * *

“Come, little flower. I want to go hunting this morning,” Ferrum said, rousing her. He had stopped binding her wrists but still slept with her hand held in his, and no matter how quietly or slowly she moved, he always woke when she tried to extricate herself from him. Not that she'd geared herself up to leave yet. She'd told herself she'd wait until she knew Ferrum was safe—past the danger of infection. But his wound had healed rapidly, and now, a couple of weeks later, she'd already started to forget he'd been hurt.

She dressed and followed him into the cool air outside their tent. It was misty, every leaf covered in dew. She shivered, and Ferrum went back to the tent to bring her his cloak. She took it, feeling warm, inside and out. No one had paid attention to her this way before. But it was probably just Ferrum's way with women—not her in particular.

He carried a bow and arrow and led her silently through the woods. She tried to walk as quietly as he did, wincing every time she snapped a stick and Ferrum looked back at her sharply. Eventually, he held a hand out, and she froze, watching as he pressed an arrow into his bow and soundlessly released it. She hadn't seen the stag until he fell crashing to the ground.

Ferrum ran to it and snapped its neck with his hands. She gasped, trying to contain her horror. She knew he was only trying to minimize its suffering, but to see Ferrum's big hands wringing death so easily was a shock. He looked an apology at her as she came closer to see. He'd slain a giant animal with a full rack. The men would feast tonight. “Well done, Ferrum,” she praised him shakily. He smiled sympathetically and handed her the skein of wine.

“Come, let's sit over here and have a bit of bread and cheese before we head back,” he said, leading her to a large smooth boulder where they both could perch. She climbed up and accepted the bread. It was strange how perfectly normal and comfortable it felt to be with Ferrum. They spent every moment of every day in very close range of each other. She had no privacy from him—he escorted her to relieve herself, watched her dress, and observed her every move and every thought, it seemed. For a woman who had been selling her body for coin for years, she had never felt so exposed to a man. He disciplined her. He made love to her. He took care of all her needs.

As if he sensed the direction her thoughts were headed, Ferrum looked at her soberly and brushed some of the strands of hair that had come free of her braid away from her face.

Like a little fool, she blushed. “This hair,” she said impatiently, to cover it up. “It's so fine it will never stay back. People think they'd like blond hair, but I say it's a curse!”

“Nay, it's beautiful.”

“Nay—it's thin and fine and is not good for anything at all! I hate it.”

In a single smooth movement, Ferrum snatched her up and laid her over his lap. Her skirts were up before she'd managed her first protest, and his huge hand was spanking her full force.

“Stop! What are you doing, Ferrum?” she spluttered.

He ignored her, continuing to spank fast and hard, slapping the same place twenty times until she was kicking and howling in indignation.

“Stop! What did I do? Stop, Ferrum!” She fought like a wild woman, which did not impede Ferrum's onslaught in the slightest. He moved onto the other side and she felt the delayed sensation of burning flooding into the side he'd just finished. She whimpered and kicked some more. He showed no intention of slowing or even stopping, and she was starting to panic. She screamed at him in anger and frustration. Her whole bottom was on fire, and she felt frightened, not understanding what the punishment was about.

At long last, he stopped and rubbed. The relief made a sob-like escape out of her mouth. He pulled her up, and she glared at him in fury, her lower lip trembling.

“Nobody criticizes my girl,” he said firmly.

She stared at him in disbelief. Laughter started to bubble up along with incredulity, replacing her anger. She started to giggle, covering her mouth, tears forming in her eyes. She laughed and laughed and laughed, wiping at her tears as Ferrum gathered up their lunch and placed the giant stag around his shoulders.

He started walking without another word. She caught up, still giggling every now and then.

“You are a terrible brute, Ferrum.”

“Aye.”

“That hurt, you big oaf! Not that it would ever stop you—you take pleasure in it, don't you?”

A smile played on Ferrum's lips, but he didn't look at her. He just kept walking. “You're asking for another spanking,” he warned mildly.

She looked up at him through her lashes. “Mayhap I am.”

He stopped walking to look at her. She waggled her eyebrows and took off at a run, giggling the entire time. She heard the thud of the stag being dropped and then the long strides rapidly overtaking her. For such a giant, Ferrum was surprisingly light on his feet. Her own feet lifted off the ground as he caught her about the waist and yanked her skirts up all at the same time. She screamed and giggled, twisting to try to avoid his heavy hand on her still hot and tingling bottom. He landed five good ones on her.

“Is that what you need?” he asked in a mock growl, turning her to face him. His eyes were burning with desire, and she felt passion sweep through her, turning her legs to custard.

She shook her head, unable to speak.

“Nay,” he said softly. “That's not what you need. I know what you need.” His fingers probed between her legs, and she gasped at the shock of sensation. Her sex was ready for him, moist and swollen.

“Aye, Ferrum,” she breathed.

“Aye, Ferrum,” he repeated back to her, his exploring fingers penetrating so that she lifted onto her tiptoes, clutching at his hand. “That's all I want to hear from you for the rest of the day. ‘Aye, Ferrum.' Got it?”

“Aye, Ferrum,” she gasped as two of his fingers plunged deeply in and out of her. She clutched at his shoulders, whimpering. She lifted one of her legs and wrapped it loosely around his waist to give him better access as he brought her just to the edge of a climax. Then he withdrew and smiled. “Turn around and put your hands on the tree.”

“Aye, Ferrum.”

“Stick your arse out for me.”

She obeyed, only to squeak and jump when he slapped it hard.

“No complaints out of you, little flower. You'll get whatever I decide to give to you.”

His words turned her insides to molten liquid. Ferrum's domination was more arousing than anything she'd ever experienced. Her legs were trembling as she waited. Would he spank? Or pleasure?

He gripped her hip, and she sighed in ecstasy as he entered her. He felt so good.

“Aye, Ferrum,” she moaned as he moved inside her.

“Good girl,” he growled and brought them both to a hungry climax.

When they had recovered their breath and Ferrum had slipped out of her and replaced her skirts, he wrapped his huge arms around her from behind and held her close to him. “You like being Ferrum's prisoner,” he said softly in her ear.

Her insides turned to mush again. She did. Some part of her truly did.

“What is there to go back to that's so important, anyway?”

She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let her. “It's not—” she struggled against his hold again. She gave an exaggerated huff of exasperation. “I don't wish to be a slave, you damn brute. That's all. I want my freedom.”

“You're not a slave, Dani,” he protested, sounding hurt. He released her now and spun her around to face him, gripping her shoulders. “You're not. You've not been asked to serve in any way but to use your Sight. Using the gift God gave you to serve your own people is a duty, just as I offer my strength and steel to serve Briton.”

“And I can come and go as I please? I could leave if I wished it?”

Ferrum lost his patience. He kicked the tree behind her. “No woman but a whore has such freedom!” he growled. “Wait—” He'd seen the fury on her face at that and caught her arm as she whirled to run away from him.

“Ack. You know I always put my foot in it. I didn't mean—stop it, dammit!”

She'd started kicking at his shins to get away, twisting around in his grasp. He wrestled with her, grabbing her other arm.

“DANI!” he roared.

She froze, her eyes wide. He had never raised his voice to her before, and the sound of him thundering was as frightening as a bear at full snarl.

He took advantage of her inaction and grasped her other shoulder, pulling her in to face him. “Stop fighting me,” he said impatiently. “The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to cover her fear, though she felt her face already starting to crumple into angry tears.

He started to pull her toward him, but she turned her face sharply away, rejecting any comfort he might be thinking to offer.

“Shite,” he cursed and released her. He stalked back to where he'd laid the buck down and heaved it over his shoulders, starting to walk without looking back.

She cursed him silently. Did he have so much faith she would follow? Mayhap this was her chance to escape. Except, as usual, she had no idea where they were.

* * *

“We can't leave for Umbria today,” he informed Phillip tightly, entering his tent at first light. The plan had been to pack up and head for their foster father's castle.

“What do you mean?”

“Dani's bleeding—seems bad. I don't want her to travel.” He had not been able to find the herb penny royal for her in any village, and now it seemed it was too late.

Phillip looked skeptical. “You mean bleeding, like a woman bleeds?”

His control was starting to snap. “I don't know, dammit. Yes! Or mayhap more like a miscarriage. She seems like she's in a lot of pain.”

Phillip still looked doubtful. “Ferrum, we need to keep pressing on.”

He lost his temper. “You go on, then, but we're not leaving!” he snarled. “This is your fault you know!”

“How is this my fault?”

“You wanted to keep a woman with the troops, you must suffer the consequences of it!” He knew he was not being rational, but the sight of a pale-faced Dani curled up that morning with her arms wrapped around her abdomen, the blankets soaked in blood had shaken him to the core. He had been perfectly calm and reassuring with her, but now that he was with Phillip, he was like a kettle boiling over.