"You should ask him," Henri said solemnly. "Papa never tells you no."

"Oh?" Bella couldn't hold back the expression of surprise that response gave her. Little boys weren't very perceptive.

"I will be five very soon," Henri put his fingers against Bella's cheek, patting her. "I would promise to be very thankful."

"We shall see, hm?" Bella kissed him and said good night, reluctantly handing him over to Meggie. She would have gladly enjoyed the task of bathing the child, getting him ready for bed and tucking him in. That, however, was not the way things worked in this household. "We have a busy day tomorrow, Henri. Sleep well."

"Yes, Maman. Will you ask Papa tonight and then tell me what he says at table on the morrow?"

"I will add your request to my list," Bella promised him. Her list of problems gathered from the castle for Sir John to solve was growing lengthier by the minute.

That did not even begin to touch Bella's reservations. Not that she was going to address any of those to him again. No sirree, not by a d.a.m.ned sight would she bring up the fact that she didn't belong here, didn't have the foggiest idea how to handle the management of a household of this size, and did not want to push onto that autocrat her educated, modern beliefs about proper parenting and suitable activities for growing boys!

Nope! Those powder kegs would stay untouched by her intrusion in domains where she didn't belong.

Bella dismissed Clarise just as soon as humanly possible. She did not want to gossip over how spoiled the young princes were or how lucky the queen was to be married to the all powerful king. Euch!

Bella snagged a boar bristle brush through her hair, glad for the peace and tranquility of her own room. It would have been sufficient to soothe her if she didn't have worrying over Robin's whereabouts plaguing her. She hoped Sir John would spend the whole night kissing the king's a.s.s. She could use the rest.

Angry because the fates had tossed her into this nightmare she didn't know how to handle, Bella threw herself in bed and lay there wide awake and worrying, glaring at the convoluted folds of the canopy.

The night was sultry as any summer night would be after so much rain. The nubbly cotton of her nightgown chaffed her skin. For the first time since rising from her nap, Bella allowed herself to feel the various aches and tenderness caused by bouts of violent lovemaking, one of which included last night's gymnastic on the hard floor. She didn't think she'd been this sore since the night she'd given up her virginity in the backseat of a Ford Mustang.

John Chandos' expertise had left her reeling. His tempestuous nature left her aching. Sustaining the high dudgeon necessary for a long term battle of wills wasn't her best suit. She'd come down to breakfast this morning in high dudgeon and by the time he'd brought her upstairs after lunch, she'd rolled over and was actively looking for some means to establish peace between them.

She wondered if that was a character flaw. She'd never been much for arguments or jealous rages. With Ari's flagrant affairs, she'd learned to ignore his infidelities. Ignoring had lead to indifference, not so much on her part, but on his.

It all came down to the fact that she'd rather be a friend than a foe. With a dominant alpha male like Sir John, the winner conquered all and the loser just might as well prepare to cry surrender. The only way not to lose was to switch roles and become a peacemaker instead of an antagonist. That was Bella's plan.

She twisted restlessly on the bed--wide awake, wishing she had the nerve to shed the nightgown and sleep in the raw. Sleeves on a summer nightgown were as useful as warts on frogs. They served no purpose whatsoever.

She forced herself to lay still, willing sleep to come, but it wouldn't. The whole day kept looping in her mind, upheaval followed shock waves. Her emotions were taking the wildest roller coaster ride ever devised.

Right this moment, she wanted to press her hands over her ears and scream, scream, scream. Too many to count.

Sleep was not one of her options.

BOYS WILL BE BOYS -14.

Bella got up, dug around in the wardrobe for what she hoped was a robe. She tried on the dark wine-colored velvet garment, folded the bodice over her chest and fastened the sash belt at her waist. It was heavier than she liked, but would do. She slipped her feet into slippers then peeked into the solar.

Aristotle was asleep in the lord's high-back chair. There wasn't a peep coming from the children's rooms. Bella tiptoed down the bartizan stairwell.

The doors of the hall had been closed and two soldiers with pikes stood guard. They were wearing household livery, so Bella merely nodded to them as she pa.s.sed through the anteroom on her way outdoors.

A glance in the windows showed nearly fifty men remained secluded with the king, John Chandos among them.

Fine, Bella thought. She crossed the ward to the south gatehouse, climbed the steps to the allure and there found a breeze at last. Something to cool down over and the solitude necessary to pull her wits together.

Sir Neville gave Bella a sharp salute as she stepped onto the allure.

"I am going to walk for a while," Bella told him. He did not question her, but simply stood aside and let her pa.s.s.

It was one of those exquisitely clear nights when the heavens seem so close she could reach up her hands and touch the stars. The rising moon was very full and beautiful. It showered white light down on the barren glacis that fronted the south facing gate. Bella pitied any b.a.s.t.a.r.d fool enough to try to take this fortress. They wouldn't get within a hundred feet of the walls before some hawk-eyes archer picked them off.

Bella leaned between the merlons, letting the breeze play in her hair, trying to sort out for herself where in this unfamiliar landscape she must have landed. Knowing she had arrived through this gate helped very little as she searched the rolling coastal hills for any landmark she might recognize. She thought the old Cluniac priory ought to look like a church with a spire and other markings, but Bella could see nothing familiar. For that matter she did not see another man made structure of any sort. The land was simply barren rocks, low hills and shallow valleys.

That was disappointing.

A rowdy group of riders approached from the west. Their noise could be heard for quite a distance. Bella caught their high spirits and laughter long before they came into her view, riding in from under the first gatehouse. She leaned out over the crenel looking down some forty feet at them and realized they were all boys, fifteen, sixteen, or possibly seventeen years of age.

Two were so unsteady with drink they wobbled on their saddles. Two more had women riding pillion behind them, blowsy women, bar maids, she imagined. Did they have bar maids in this era?

Before she had time to consider her own question, one of the youths made himself known to her by raising his head toward the torchlight as he reached around to grab the woman riding behind him. He planted a smacking kiss on her laughing lips at the same time he fondled her voluptuous b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Robin Chandos!

Bella heard her own breath hiss through her teeth. So that's where he had gotten himself off to! Gone whoring and drinking! At his age! What was his age? Fifteen at the most! And just what did a fifteen-year-old boy think he was going to do with that woman?

She listened to the first of the three portcullis gates being raised then she made up her mind that this particular lascivious party was not going to continue one minute longer. She gathered her skirts and marched over to Sir Neville and ordered him not to raise the third portcullis.

"My lady," he bl.u.s.tered, caught in the act of grinning indulgently at the rowdy boys. "We have to let them in. It's..."

"I know perfectly well who it is," Bella announced sanctimoniously. G.o.d save me, she thought. What kind of a world is this? She'd spent the morning on her knees in the chapel grovelling before G.o.d for her ladyship's sins of disobedience, pride, arrogance and supposedly immoral behavior! Right! And she was going to stand here and allow a mere boy to bring a wh.o.r.e into the castle. Oh no, she wasn't.

She didn't bother to waste those thoughts on Sir Neville. No, Bella had a more direct target in mind. She s.n.a.t.c.hed up a bucket of rainwater and lugged it over to the crenels edging the allure.

The five who were sober enough to still sit in their saddles pa.s.sed a skin of wine between them. Their bawds asked for drinks as well. One large blond youth gallantly tipped the skin to the woman in his arms and squirted a stream at her that ran down her throat and into the rosy mounds of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Robin wheeled his horse around and impatiently hollered, "Ho, Sir Neville, open the gates in the name of Edward...."

Bella let him get that much out before she tipped her bucket on its side and let the contents fall. She heard a howl that sounded very much like "prinz a waaallllleess! s.h.i.t. Who did that? Neville, you d.a.m.ned French b.a.s.t.a.r.d, show yourself!"

One bawd howled a fluent curse.

"Tell me, young man," Bella let the bucket fall next, not caring if it broke the boy's head. "Would you kiss your mother with that same filthy mouth?"

"Mother?" Robin dashed the water from his eyes and looked up. His friends laughter died. "Madame? What are you doing there?"

"Barring the gate, my son."

The big boy with the bosomy woman circled behind Robin's horse and looked up with a wide drunken grin on his handsome face. He yanked a plumed hat off his pale head and swept it downward in a pretty bow.

"Ah, my lady Chandos. 'Tis you who bars the gate to us, eh? How extraordinary. Does my lord father sanction your barring the gate to his eldest son? Does my G.o.dfather, Lord Chandos know you are here, tormenting us poor lads by keeping us from our beds?"

"Sir Neville, fetch me another bucket. It seems there's more than one loudmouth in this rowdy group. Only this time, dump a sack of quick lime into the bucket first. I know of more ways than one to set impudent young mouths to silence."

"Mother, you wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so certain, Robin," Bella warned.

"I suggest you take those ladies back where you got them, then come back and see if the gates will be opened for you. And one other thing, sober up. Else you'll not get in the gate at all."

"Madame Chandos," the young blond giant with the gallant cap turned his face skyward, glaring up from the ground some forty feet below. "I demand you open the gates this very moment."

"Yes, my pretty boy? How can I be of service to you?" Bella deliberately mocked his fine manners. "Do tell me, is not your own mother sleeping within this keep? Shall I wake her and bring her to the wall to see how you fare?"

"Most certainly not!" The youth almost screamed. Bella laughed, not loud though. She didn't want the Prince of Wales to think she was mocking him.

Sir Neville's mouth twitched beneath his speckled mustache. Bella winked at him and accepted the second bucket, setting it down on the stone crenel between the free standing merlons.

Prince Edward backed his roan up immediately, not so far gone in his cups that he'd risk the drenching Robin had taken. "My lady, I shall endeavor to remember this."

"Do that," Bella said with all the arrogance she could muster as well. "Now, run along, boys, and take those ladies back where you found them. And I will be certain to tell Father Kerwin of your intentions. Shame on you all."

Two of the other youths drew their mounts back and when they looked up at Bella she realized they were none other than the two daring young squires Sir Manny had introduced to the king, Hugh Caveley and Robert Knollys. Bold fellows all, including Robin Chandos.

There was a short conference staged on horseback while the drunken youths discussed their odds of waging a siege. They were in no condition to do anything to countermand Bella's order, so they wheeled their horses about and galloped through the outer gate as rowdy departing as they had been arriving.

Bella handed Sir Neville back the bucket. He c.o.c.ked a brow at her and she shrugged, smiling. "Sir Neville," Bella said, knowing she could trust this one man implicitly. "What can you tell me about St. Martin's Priory?"

"St. Martin's?" He returned the heavy bucket to the spot where Bella had taken it. There was adequate moonlight for Bella to see the deep concern her question posed him.

"'Tis said to be haunted, contessa. Why do you ask?"

"Is that where I was found?"

"Milady, I was not among the searchers. I could not say and will not repeat idle gossip."

"That's very gallant of you," Bella told him. "I guess I'm just curious. I don't have any recollection of being there, though both Geoffrey and Robin said they found me there, in some pit called the Well of Souls. I've never heard of it before."

Sir Neville made no comment to that. Bella leaned against a crenel, gazing out across the rolling down.

"Can it be seen from here?"

"No, milady."

Bella figured she'd get no better answers by probing further. Neville obviously had his reserves. "Well sir, I thank you for backing me up against the teenagers. Good night."

Now that she knew Robin's whereabouts, Bella thought she might be able to go to sleep. She walked down the allure, descending the inner steps that dropped to the entrance of the manor.

The king and his knights were still in conference in the hall. Bella said good night to the two sentinels manning the closed doors as she pa.s.sed through to the bartizan. In her bed chamber, she kicked off her slippers, shed the robe, climbed into the high bed and sprawled belly down on the feather mattress.

She gave some thought to the responsibility she found herself a.s.suming for three growing boys, but was satisfied that she knew each one's whereabouts at the moment.

She didn't think Robin Chandos would come to any harm in the company he kept. The Black Prince, Knollys and Caveley all had lived long ill.u.s.trious lives and made numerous footnotes in history. She decided Robin Chandos was safe for this night.

She closed her eyes and went to sleep and did not wake up until she felt a warm pair of hands tugging on her hem.

Bella opened one eye. It amazed her how bright a dark bedroom could be when a silver candlestick holding five lit candles was placed on a bedside table. Squirming, because that pair of hands had become very intimate, Bella warned, "I'd advise you not to raise my hem one inch higher."

Sir John's hands splayed across the crest of her hip bones. "'Tis high enough to suit me where it is, lady."

His hair-roughened knees gripped her thighs as he leaned forward, caught her hair, swept it over her left shoulder and placed a kiss at the back of her neck. Bella brought her arms back to her body, pressing into the soft bed, twisting around as best she could, considering that he had her lower half well pinned already. "Shall we discuss this?"

"Nay." His teeth skittered across the bare skin of her shoulder. The last thing John Chandos wanted to do was talk.

Chandos could find no explanation for Bella's behavior this night in the hall either. She'd deliberately sought him out in the hall. She'd inched closer and closer as the evening wore on. She distracted his attention from the king. And why shouldn't she distract him and every man in his d.a.m.ned hall? That wild hair of hers flowed around her like tongues of fire licking on ice.

He had been stunned when Robin had told him his mother had capitulated and would swear fealty to King Edward. Chandos had not believed that.

Isabella did nothing that did not suit her own purpose. The trumpets and herald were to be expected. The presence of her private guard was not. The gown she chose to wear shocked Sir John.

In the presence of the King of England, Isabella Chandos had never worn anything but the colors of the royal House of Lorraine. In her veins ran the blood of the Merovingians and Charlemagne. She bore the legendary Merovingian birthmark, a red cross between her shoulder blades, as did each of Sir John's sons. She considered herself more regal than any king.

Tonight, she had come to the dais bareheaded, devoid of jewels, and gowned in the black and white of the House of Chandos. Kneeling before King Edward, Bella had never looked more beautiful, alluring or achingly vulnerable. Her bared shoulders and exposed throat made her submission to the king appear to be a sacrifice--as if she was actually offering her head to the king. She had taken John Chandos' breath away.

But he was not a fool. He knew her homage to Edward was a contrasted study of humility and defiance. Oh, she bent her will to the king like meadow gra.s.s gave in to the wind, exactly as she bent her will to Chandos. Beneath her soft white skin was finely tempered Damascus steel. Chandos knew better than to forget that.

"I think we'd better talk." Bella advised him sweetly. "I'm not into rear a.s.saults."

"Nay." His right hand slipped under her arm and did away with the cord that did a poor job at best at keeping the gown on her shoulders. He hooked one finger in the coa.r.s.e cotton and drew it down to her waist, baring b.r.e.a.s.t.s and shoulders. "I shall concentrate on your flanks."

"No, don't concentrate on anything," Bella wiggled forcefully, gaining some advantage in turning around to face him. "We need to talk."

"Nay." His mouth ran up her throat and teeth nipped at her ear lob. His warm breath made shivers erupt across her spine.

Bella turned her head to lodge a serious protest and got no further than saying his name before his mouth covered hers. His grip upon her thighs loosened, allowing her to complete the turn to face him.

Her nightgown was now nothing more than a hindering twist of fabric, completely bunched at her waist. The hard length of his body stretched over her, covering her.

Bella discovered what purpose long sleeves on nightgowns served. With the gown pushed to her waist, a better pair of manacles could not be found. She was helpless against him, vulnerable to any a.s.sault he cared to deploy.

Entrapped with his fingers plowed in her hair and his tongue delving deep in her mouth, Bella quickly forgot about that long agenda she'd put aside for him. She didn't care to think of anything beyond the hard length probing against her belly.

Bella consciously made a cradle of her hips and legs. She had been aroused the moment she'd awakened by the feel of Chandos' rough palms skittering up her flesh.

He pulled his head back, breaking the fusion of their mouths and laid his moist brow on her shoulder. He slid his palm down her throat, cupping one breast, squeezing it gently with his thumb over the nipple, urging the bud to awaken to his touch.

Bella wiggled her hands out of her sleeves and ran her palms up his arms, turning them over the firm ma.s.s of muscle covering the socket and ball joint, slowing as she touched the ridges she'd left in his skin the night before. She turned her head so that she could see his face, which was so close to her own she could go cross-eyed trying to look at his eyes.

He concentrated only on the hardening bud of her nipple. His black brows were a flat line. His jaw sc.r.a.ped her other breast, the flesh of his shaved cheek as abrasive to tender skin as fine grit sand paper. That nipple puckered hard against him, making Bella groan from the exquisite pain-pleasure of it.

"'Twas an interesting risk you took before the king, Bella," he said as he lifted his head and his mouth hovered over the abraded nipple. The other was far gone into his inflicted torment of rhythmic compression that sent wave after wave of tremors rippling into Bella's belly.

"I did not think it a risk at the time. A duty, only." She gasped the last words out as his tongue flicked across the standing orb. Moistened by his tongue, it shrivelled wet and cold and turgid, a hard kernel in the soft fleshy mound of her breast.

Bella laced her fingers behind his head, tightening the heels of her hands on the thick cords at the back of his neck. She blanked her mind of everything physical, stared at his distracted face and plunged into speech.

"My lord, I have numerous things we must discuss. I am most concerned about Robin's activities."