Brant had seen that a few times, from maids in the village he had tried out, as was his right, as Lord of the Castle. He had thought them cold wenches, but mayhap, his taking of their bodies, was just not to their liking. The woman before him was certainly not cold, though hours ago, she had tried, though not totally successfully, to lay under him like a dead thing, waiting for him to finish. That, was not to his liking, so Brant had mostly limited his liaisons to tarts who came to flirt with him. Nay, actually many of the tarts at his Castles threw themselves at him, knowing that a liaison with the Lord, was likely to gain them a lighter workload, or often a precious trinket.
His wife had changed the babe, and lifted him to her bosom to nurse. Brant saw her shiver slightly, in the chilly morning air. Noting the thin gown she wore, he rose from the bed, wrapping a blanket around himself. Taking a second cover from the bed, he walked over to wrap it around Isabel's shoulders. However, as he placed the blanket around her, she noticeably flinched away from contact with him, once again, bringing to his attention, how much it annoyed him when she drew away from his touch. So he slide his hands down her arms along the blanket, until he could tuck it snuggly around her waist.
“I believe I had enough of your unpleasant company, in the night past, My Lord,” Isabel said, with a glare.
When he was close to her, she always seemed to be acutely conscious of his body, and just then, it was a feeling she did not want to think about.
“Really? It did not look like you found my company unpleasant, when you asked me to breed you, love,” Brant said, relishing the pink that tinged her cheeks. After pausing briefly, he continued, “However, if are you really undesirous of my affections, I see no reason why you may not shirk your wifely duties, in seeing to my physical pleasures for a little while.”
Brant noted a look that he could not read, crossed her face briefly, before she covered it with a blank expression.
Watching her closely, he continued, “Shall we say three, or four weeks. Until we know for sure, if I succeeded in breeding you. The mid wife assures me, now is the best time in your cycle, for you to conceive.”
He grinned, as the pink that had faded from her cheeks, burst anew. Then, he turned to place more wood on the embers in the fire place, to chase off the chill in the room.
“You are absolutely, despicable,” Isabel said, staring at him in astonishment.
He had planned his callus treatment of her, the night past? Even talked to the midwife, about the best time to ‘breed her’?
“I am despicable?” Brant questioned. “That is why you perpetrated your little ruse, is it not? To deceive me, into siring that child you hold in your arms? Or, did you only need one, to guarantee your position as my wife?”
He rose from in front of the fire, which was now burning brighter, to warm the room. He stood glaring at her, waiting for her reply.
“You know, My Lord, when you were in residence in my jail, I thought I saw some good qualities, in you. I even felt rather bad, about the situation my dire straits, had placed both of us in. Since they turned you loose, most of what you have done has been pretty repugnant. I am thinking that I should have kept you locked up, for a plaything. Mayhap, I would find you less insufferable,” she said, with feigned sweetness.
Brant replied, with an equally false smile, “Look on the bright side, Alisa, you no longer need to worry, about what form my revenge will take, for the moment. If you are carrying my second child, well, you know how much I like children, right?”
He then went to dress, and left the room. Isabel just glared after him, speechless. After he had seduced her into saying what he wanted, he had taken her body in a manor that could only be described as, the much whispered about ‘tossing skirts’. The fact that he hoped that humiliation, would lead to the conception of a second child, left her contemplating if there was a way to escape him. However, without having to give up the precious son that innocently nursed at her bosom, there was no way, short of killing him.
Chapter 12
Brant was in the hall with Nathaniel, Hannah, and Rosamund, when the sentry announced guests approaching the Castle. A short while later, Sir Richard, and a Lady whom Brant did not recognize, were escorted in. Richard quickly introduced Lady Ann, Isabel's mother, to her son-in-law. Brant acknowledged the still very attractive woman, of maybe thirty-five to forty years old.
Introductions made, Richard dove in to their purpose in coming there.
"Ann contacted me quite distraught, over your actions to retrieve Isabel, and the child. I agreed to lend my assistance in approaching you, about the situation," Richard said.
Ann then forged ahead with stating her case.
"Your marriage to my daughter was intended to be of a temporary nature, to protect her, and aid you, in defeating Avery. The goal was to finally end the ongoing fighting, between the two of you, which has been accomplished. I was quite shocked about the infant. Particularly, when I was informed about the ruse that lead to your siring the babe, which was certainly very unwise of Isabel. But it breaks my heart, to think of my only child's whole life, being determined by one impulsive act, when she was a mere child of one and seven years." At this, Brant raised an eyebrow, momentarily causing Lady Ann to pause. But, she continued on, "Particularly, when Rosamund told me, that you may have treated the poor girl rather roughly. I mean, Rosamund said that she had bruises on both wrists, and her jaw, and was quite shaken up."
Brant, having heard enough about the poor girl, responded in his defense, "I do not think I could have treated her that badly, Lady Ann, or she would not have been back for more, two days later. Or again, a couple of days after that."
"What?" Lady Ann asked in surprise, as she slowly sank onto the bench behind her. Turning to look at the serf, Ann continued, "Rosamund, you said 'that one night'. How many times did this occur?"
Avoiding eye contact with Lady Ann, Rosamund answered, "A whole lot."
"Why did you lead me to think, that it was only one night?" Ann asked.
"Isabel said I had best shut up, or she would assign me to do the washing, or something else bad," the serf replied, with her eyes focused on the floor.
When the serf offered nothing more, Ann ordered, "You will tell me the truth, Rosemond. All of it."
"I could not keep ‘er away from him. At first, she said she needed the babe. But even when she knew she were carrying ‘im, she kept going back. I told ‘er if she were worried about him, get ‘im some other girl. All she would agree to, was to ask him if ‘e wanted another girl, or the same one. She would not stay away from him. Even when ye got her from ‘is Castle, she left him a message with the gypsy pointing ‘im to ye," Rosamund admitted.
The maid fell silent, looking painfully uncomfortable, under the Lady's disapproving glare. Brant watched the exchange, amused both at the serf's discomfort, and the mother's shock.
"This happened many times?" Lady Ann asked, as she turned to confront Sir Richard. "Richard, where were you, when this was going on? How could you not know? I believe you assured me, you would do your best to see to Isabel's safety."
"I knew nothing about any of this," Richard responded, in his defense. "The only thing I was told about any of it, was on the one evening that I noticed Rosamund getting Isabel a glass of wine. She seemed very shaky. But, when I asked if something was wrong, Rosamund just replied that her husband, who 'would not bed the child,' had no such concern, with bedding a similar aged, servant girl."