A Knight's Vow by Gayle Callen Page B

grow red, sensed every eye surreptitiously glancing their way.
    "I worry about the legality of your marriage in the eyes of the law, my son. Perhaps you need to—"
    Before the priest could utter another word, James slammed his hands down. The hall fell into immediate silence, as if they were all just waiting for an excuse to openly listen.
    "That is enough!" James shouted, and his voice echoed from wall to wall. "If respecting my wife's fears is such a terrible thing, then by all means, let us consummate this farce!"
    Chapter 11
    Isabel stood so quickly her chair fell in a clatter. This was not what she had meant to happen.
    "Not so fast, my loose-lipped wife."
    Bolton grabbed the back of her doublet. She staggered and found herself spinning towards him. He caught her full against him and she struggled wildly. Bedlam erupted as knights and serving girls and travelers roared with laughter.
    "Of course I shall kiss you," he said loudly. "I promise to do more than that."
    Holding her body against his with one hand, he gripped her chin with the other and forced their mouths together. Isabel tried to bite him, but he only spread her mouth open and plunged in his tongue. Before she could even think how to react, he broke the kiss and gave her a triumphant grin.
    Then her world turned upside down as he bent and flung her over his shoulder. Her breath left her lungs with a giant whoosh, and she found her face against the rump of his multicolored hose. She reared away and tried to punch him.
    "None of that, Angel," Bolton said. "I can tell how eager you are. I will hasten to our bedchamber."
    The laughter almost hurt Isabel's ears and her mortification burned. How dare he turn her revenge around on herself?
    Bolton started to walk and came to an abrupt halt, bouncing her against him.
    "William, sit down," he said coldly.
    She tried to see what was going on, and failed. Her squire mustn't interfere and risk his own safety, not again.
    "But, Lord Bolton—"
    "Learn your place, boy."
    William must have given way, because James was on the move again, taking the stairs two at a time and slamming her into his shoulder repeatedly. The cheers and laughter mercifully died away as they turned down the stone corridor.
    Isabel heard him fling open the door, and a moment later she found herself flat on the bed. As she came wildly to her feet, he slammed the door
    shut, then gave her another shove that sent her back onto the bed.
    "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Bolton demanded, striding forward until he stood over her, dark and angry. "You made sure everyone knew I'd been a gentleman, so I'd be forced to bed you."
    "No!" she cried, trying to sit up.
    He pushed her shoulders back on the bed and held her there. "It seems you were gravely disappointed last night."
    "I was not!"
    "Then what other reason could there be for your wagging tongue?"
    She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it into a grim line. What could she say? That she wanted to humiliate him before his people? He already knew that. He was simply toying with her emotions, which were fragmented at best. What did he intend to do?
    Bolton stood back. "Take off your clothing."
    Isabel sat up, feeling an unfamiliar tightening deep in her stomach. "No."
    "Take off your clothing."
    His voice grew deeper, and seemed to rumble through her chest until she shivered. His eyes were blue flames, searing her with incredible intensity. Wasn't it fear that coiled its way inside her, twisted
    her nerves into dark anticipation? No, she could not let this happen.
    She came to her feet and he fell upon her without warning, pinning her to the bed with his long body. Though she fought and squirmed and pushed his hands away, she felt the laces of her doublet loosen and give way. The garment began to slide down, baring more and more of her shirt. He was calm and determined, and she was wildly out of control. For she was not only battling him, but some deep part of herself, bursting to be free, to let him