enhanced her reputation as the Ice Queen.
But t here was something about this man, something that made him different.
In an attempt to discover what it was, she stared back at him, inspecting him as closely as he was her. His muscular body was honed by war. Isabella was tall for a woman but if he’d been on a level with her he would have towered over her. His face was handsome, there was no doubt about that and with his brilliant eyes and his smiling mouth . . .
“. . . Most grateful, my lady.”
Isabella realised uneasily that he’d spoken and she hadn’t heard what he said. That was not like her. She nodded brusquely and turned away. She could hear Alric following behind her as she walked through into the great hall, holding her head high and her back straight.
The seneschal had already given the order for food and drink to be made ready for their unexpected guests and the servants were bustling about the tables and benches where the men would sit. Alric came toward her and she noted he was still limping, perhaps a little worse than before.
“ Lady?” Alric said, his voice dropping. “I have something I wish to discuss with you. A matter of some importance.”
Isabella’s look was sharp. “What matter?”
Alric moved closer, grimacing as he jarred his leg. “A matter I must discuss with you in private, lady.”
It went against her better judgement to be alone with this man but there was an urgency in his manner she could not deny. She cast a cool glance over him. “Your leg needs attention. Come with me and I will see to it.”
The small room beyond the great hall, tucked away behind an arras, was private and often used for bathing when she had guests. She sent for Alric’s squire to help him undress.
“What is wrong with your leg?”
“There is nothing . . .” he began, but Isabella was weary of male pride.
“You are limping, sir. What is wrong?”
He glared at her a moment as if he would like to tell her to mind her own business, and then a glimmer of laughter lit his blue eyes. “You are persistent, lady. I fell while fighting off some brigands in the forest south of here. A foolishness for which I am paying now. But it is not necessary for you to concern yourself—”
“You are my guest, Alric,” she said smoothly , “and as such I will see to your hurts.”
The boy arrived just then, and hurried to help his master with his heavy chainmail. There was no need for Isabella to stay; she could have returned when Alric was ready for her, but for some reason she wanted to stay. The man intrigued her, and it would do him no harm to be put off balance by a woman watching him undress.
His tunic came to mid thigh, and when the boy helped him off with his tight breeches, he was still decently covered. Isabella felt a tingle of disappointment. She would have liked to see him stripped bare, naked before her. She told herself she would have stood, hands clasped before her, observing him as if he was nothing to her.
And yet the thought of his naked body also brought a strange warm glow to her skin. She could feel it, and the pulse beating at the base of her throat. Foolishness. Why was she hungering after a man she didn’t even know? She’d been disappointed before. On the first night that Hamon came to her bed she’d had such hopes. Why did she think this Alric would be any different?
No, it was simply rutting, like the beasts of the field; men seemed to enjoy it well enough and some made babies. She hadn’t even been able to do that. There was no heir to inherit Godestone when she was gone, no child to teach to be a custodian of the estate. It was a source of grief to her that she kept very private.
The squire had finished and Alric waved him away. He sat upon the stool by the narrow window, shoulders hunched, his bare leg stretched out awkwardly before him. His thighs were thick with muscles, and he looked as if he could do with a good wash. Isabella was glad she’d asked for water to be
But t here was something about this man, something that made him different.
In an attempt to discover what it was, she stared back at him, inspecting him as closely as he was her. His muscular body was honed by war. Isabella was tall for a woman but if he’d been on a level with her he would have towered over her. His face was handsome, there was no doubt about that and with his brilliant eyes and his smiling mouth . . .
“. . . Most grateful, my lady.”
Isabella realised uneasily that he’d spoken and she hadn’t heard what he said. That was not like her. She nodded brusquely and turned away. She could hear Alric following behind her as she walked through into the great hall, holding her head high and her back straight.
The seneschal had already given the order for food and drink to be made ready for their unexpected guests and the servants were bustling about the tables and benches where the men would sit. Alric came toward her and she noted he was still limping, perhaps a little worse than before.
“ Lady?” Alric said, his voice dropping. “I have something I wish to discuss with you. A matter of some importance.”
Isabella’s look was sharp. “What matter?”
Alric moved closer, grimacing as he jarred his leg. “A matter I must discuss with you in private, lady.”
It went against her better judgement to be alone with this man but there was an urgency in his manner she could not deny. She cast a cool glance over him. “Your leg needs attention. Come with me and I will see to it.”
The small room beyond the great hall, tucked away behind an arras, was private and often used for bathing when she had guests. She sent for Alric’s squire to help him undress.
“What is wrong with your leg?”
“There is nothing . . .” he began, but Isabella was weary of male pride.
“You are limping, sir. What is wrong?”
He glared at her a moment as if he would like to tell her to mind her own business, and then a glimmer of laughter lit his blue eyes. “You are persistent, lady. I fell while fighting off some brigands in the forest south of here. A foolishness for which I am paying now. But it is not necessary for you to concern yourself—”
“You are my guest, Alric,” she said smoothly , “and as such I will see to your hurts.”
The boy arrived just then, and hurried to help his master with his heavy chainmail. There was no need for Isabella to stay; she could have returned when Alric was ready for her, but for some reason she wanted to stay. The man intrigued her, and it would do him no harm to be put off balance by a woman watching him undress.
His tunic came to mid thigh, and when the boy helped him off with his tight breeches, he was still decently covered. Isabella felt a tingle of disappointment. She would have liked to see him stripped bare, naked before her. She told herself she would have stood, hands clasped before her, observing him as if he was nothing to her.
And yet the thought of his naked body also brought a strange warm glow to her skin. She could feel it, and the pulse beating at the base of her throat. Foolishness. Why was she hungering after a man she didn’t even know? She’d been disappointed before. On the first night that Hamon came to her bed she’d had such hopes. Why did she think this Alric would be any different?
No, it was simply rutting, like the beasts of the field; men seemed to enjoy it well enough and some made babies. She hadn’t even been able to do that. There was no heir to inherit Godestone when she was gone, no child to teach to be a custodian of the estate. It was a source of grief to her that she kept very private.
The squire had finished and Alric waved him away. He sat upon the stool by the narrow window, shoulders hunched, his bare leg stretched out awkwardly before him. His thighs were thick with muscles, and he looked as if he could do with a good wash. Isabella was glad she’d asked for water to be
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