Esme found her brother in the practice yard, watching as two of his knights jousted. She shuddered slightly, over the clang of the swords, as steel met steel. Esme knew that the practice swords they used in the yard were quite dull, to avoid serious injury. Yet, she could not totally separate practice, from memories of wounds she had seen from battles. There were several knights here, with rather noticeable battle scars. Even Brant had a scar about six inches long on one leg. It had taken a good amount of time to heal, Esme recalled. He had brushed it off as a minor thing, while she was concerned it could affect the use of his leg. Fortunately, it had healed completely. Shaking off her dark thoughts, the girl moved to her brother’s side.
Esme quickly related to Brant, the events of the morning, and Isabel’s decision that Hannah must stay in her room for the day. Together, the brother and sister, returned to the Castle, where they found Nora in the kitchen. After confirming with her, that Hannah had in fact been pilfering, Brant decided that Isabel’s punishment should stand. Esme sulked off after Brant told her, he thought he, would likely have put the child over his knee.
However, his curiosity was piqued by Esme’s assessment of the, ‘stupid piece of wood, that Isabel calls a box, but it does not even open’. Nora informed him that Isabel was in the hall, so he took the back stairs up to the Solar. There, he found the wooden object that had caused all the trouble, where it always sat, next to his wife’s brush and mirror set. As he picked it up, Brant noticed that it felt unusually heavy. There was not any obvious way to open it. After a closer examination, he discovered a slightly worn area on the bottom, where he applied a little pressure with a fingernail. A well concealed clasp slid over, and he was able to lift the top, to display two neat rows of coins. With a wry grin, Brant thought there was more than enough coins in the box, to bribe a lot of serfs, or a gypsy.
Brant closed the lid, making sure the clasp locked, so Isabel would not know he had discovered her stash of coins. He wondered what other tricks his wife might have, momentarily, before reasoning it did not matter. Whatever they were, she was not going to vanish again, he had seen to that. Though it required several men, someone was watching Isabel, every minute that she was outside of his Solar.
Isabel laid her sleeping son in his cradle, and tucked the blankets snuggly around him, feeling a little less apprehensive. Brant had not taken the child somewhere, leaving her to wonder where the babe was, and if he would be brought back to her, for several days. He had even sided with her, and let Hannah’s punishment stand. Yet, she did not dare let herself think that mayhap, her life might work out in some way, where she could return to happier days, when life was good. That had ended with her father’s death. Before that, Isabel had felt quite safe, without any major concerns, for her wellbeing.
A wry smile touched her lips, as Isabel thought about happiness, and found herself recalling the days when she was pursuing the guise, of the serf "Alisa". The playful affection, and passionate lovemaking, she had shared with her husband during that time, seemed to good to be true, and of course it was. She had hoped to try, and hang on to some of the enjoyment, they had found in each other. She had waited to confess the ruse, and tell him about the babe, prepared to face his anger and beg for forgiveness, the day he was released from her jail. Instead, he had sent his men to imprison her at his remote Castle, and ignore her for eight months. When Isabel had escaped, he had come after her, but she was not naive enough to think that meant anything. Most likely, he did that out of duty, greed, or just plain ego. Brant had actually treated Alisa as a plaything, Isabel admitted to herself, as she climbed into the bed. If her mother knew anything, he certainly would not treat his wife in that manner, and for some reason, Isabel found this disheartening.
Isabel slowly became aware of gentle caresses on her body, and soft kisses trailing across her face and down her neck. When she moaned in pleasure, the caresses became stronger. In no time, she was lost in desire, somewhere between sleep, and being fully awake. She tried to pull her husband to her, but he held himself away from her. He ran the tip of his tongue gently across her lips, while a hand softly brushed up the inside of her thigh. Being groggy from sleep, and crazy with desire, when she heard Brant whisper, "Say, My Lord, I want you to breed me," she readily complied.
Instantly, his gentle nature stopped, and he took her quickly, roughly. A minute or two later, she heard him groan, as he finished. Then, he immediately withdrew from her. In confusion, she tried to hang on to him, and he laughed as he rolled over, and presented her with his back. Slowly, her mind cleared, and Isabel realized that he had used her desire for him, to humiliate her. He had gotten her weak from desire, to get her to ask him to 'breed her", then taken her body, with the barest minimum required to spill his seed. Isabel turned on her side, facing away from her husband, as she felt tears begin to stream down her cheek.
She thought of all the times he had been gentle, and affectionate with her, seeming to enjoy her response to him. He always made her feel safe, to enjoy the passion his lovemaking stirred in her. Twas like Brant expected her, to enjoy it as much as he did. Now, he had used her trust in him, to commit a cold calculated act intended to use, and humiliate her. As she lay there, now fully awake, she was sure that in the days to come, she would be hearing barbs about asking him to 'breed her'. Yes, she thought, she had been foolish earlier in thinking that Isabel, his wife, and mother of his child, could get the same playful affection that Brant had lavished so freely, on the serf ‘Alisa’.
Later, Isabel fell into a troubled sleep, only to be awakened, when her husband pulled her on to her back, and positioned himself over her body. She pushed ineffectually on his chest.
She whispered, to avoid waking Nathaniel, "Leave me alone."
"While I really like your normal cooperation, now and then, a little wrestling can be fun," Brant whispered back.
He lowered his head to kiss her lips, so she turned her head away.
"You are not being a very obedient wife," he chided.
Brant proceeded to place a string of kisses down her neck. Isabel tried to push his head away, but he grasped her hands, and pinned them down above her head.
Isabel wished that she could scream and get someone to stop him, but she knew no one would dare enter the Lord's private chamber, without his permission. So she utilized the only defense available to her, focusing her mind on what he had done earlier, that same night. The tactic proved to be somewhat effective in not losing herself in passion, but even so, she could not completely ignore, how good his body felt against hers. Hard as she tried to keep picturing him rolling off her, laughing about the way he had used her body, she could not keep from becoming somewhat aroused.
When he moved away from her afterward, Isabel rolled onto her side, presenting her back to him, again. However, Brant put his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. When she tried to struggle away from him, he tightened his hold and positioned a leg over hers, to stop her resistance. Seeing no escape from his presence, Isabel gave up her struggle. Though, it was quite a bit later, when she finally fell into an exhausted slumber.
Brant awoke when Isabel slipped out of his arms, in the morning. Nathaniel was crying. He watched his wife retrieve her gown that he had removed from her, during the night past, before she went to see to the babe. His eyes roamed over the back of the woman, who had tried so hard to lay cold and unresponsive under him, in the twilight hours. She had never done that before, except for that first time. He had hurt her, so she had fought, but could not escape him physically. Brant recalled how she had turned her head to the side, and in effect escaped with her mind, shutting out what he was doing to her, that first night. Last night, she had tried to shut him out, again, although she was not quite as successful, as the first time.