Sweet Revenge - chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Wilhelmina sucked in her stomach and held grimly onto the bedpost as Mildred, her lady's maid, gave her corset strings a final jerk.

"There we go, Milady, ye can breathe now." Mildred said cheerfully as she finished tying the strings and stepped back to admire her mistress's tiny waist with approval. Wilhelmina took a shallow, gasping breath, all that her brutally tight stays would allow her and gave a most unladylike snort.

"That," she said sourly, "is a matter of opinion."

"Milady, ye should be proud to have such a figure," Mildred replied unsympathetically as she picked up a beautiful brocade dress and held it up for her mistress to slip into.

"You wouldn't say that if you had the life all but squeezed out of you." Wilhelmina eyed the dress with undisguised loathing.

Mildred just laughed. "Ye gods, Milady," she said merrily, "I was never so slender, not even as a green girl." She gave the dress a little shake. "Now, come on, Milady, your father will be vexed if you are late."

Wilhelmina sighed and obediently held up her arms so Mildred could pull the dress over her head. It was made of fine brocade and cut by an expert hand. It became her perfectly but she loathed the sight of it. As Mildred laced up the back, Wilhelmina felt she was being laced tighter and tighter into a gilded cage from which she could not escape. The dress was merely a confirmation of suspicions she had long harbored against the man who had sent it to her. Eric Bischoff, otherwise known as Lord Calumet was a warlord, possessor of vast lands and commander of his own army. He was a shrewd, ambitious man who was eager to rise in the ranks of nobility. For all his pretensions, Bischoff was not highborn. The easiest way to overcome the misfortune of his common birth was to be adopted by a Highlord...or marry the daughter of one.

Two years ago, Bischoff became a strong supporter of her father, Lord Flair, in a clan feud that was slowly escalating to the point of war. As the months passed, he slowly entrenched himself in her father's good graces, giving him men, horses and supplies. Naturally, this entitled him to the hospitality of Lord Flair's house and as her father's chatelaine, it was Wilhelmina's duty to behave graciously towards the man, no matter how low her opinion of him.

She had long suspected his intentions toward her but never thought he would have the nerve to act on them. He was of common stock and she was the daughter of a Clanslord, her father would never consent to such a match. And yet, Bischoff had the gall to send her this extravagant gift, knowing full well that propriety dictated she wear it.

Mildred clucked her tongue as she finished lacing the dress and smoothed and imaginary wrinkle from the skirt. She studied Wilhelmina with a proud eye. "Ah, Milady, ye'll fair knock the eyes out of them, ye will. 'Tis fortunate ye favor your lady mother, peace to her soul, the dress looks so well on ye."

Wilhelmina grimaced at her reflection in the looking glass. "It's hideous! I'd as lief make a dust-rag of it." Catching the hurt look on Mildred's face, she relented. It was no use taking her anger out on poor, innocent Mildred.

"Forgive me," she said contritely. "I am in a bad temper today."

Mildred's face softened. "I know the way of it, Milady. No need to apologize to me." As she reached for a hair ornament she kept a wary eye on her young mistress. She had raised Wilhelmina from a diapered babe and loved the girl like her own. It hurt her to see her mistress so unhappy. Mildred knew what troubled Wilhelmina, though she never spoke of it. The look in her eyes whenever the Lord of Calumet's name was mentioned was enough. Mildred gave a mental sigh as she plaited Wilhelmina's hair. It was the lot of women, even highborn ones, to be the pawns and playthings of men. Wilhelmina soon grew impatient with the elaborate coiffure and waved her hand.

"Enough, Mildred, for heaven's sake. I'm not going to presented to the king."

It was growing late, she had delayed long enough.

Wilhelmina's chambers faced the eastern gatehouse, away from the courtyard and her father's hall. The servants greeted her respectfully as she made her way across the courtyard but she barely heard them when she caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man striding purposefully in her direction.

Bischoff!

She whirled around and ducked down the first corridor she saw. It was enough she had to endure him during her duties as hostess. To be alone with him for even a single moment would be intolerable. The corridor led past the kitchens and servant's quarters and emerged on the far side of the keep near the livery. She mentally cursed Bischoff for making her take the long detour. By now, her father was surely becoming annoyed by her tardiness. She glanced around and seeing no one of account observing her, picked up her skirts and ran. Even with her tight corsets and long, clumsy dress, she was as fleet of foot as a young deer and rather enjoyed the run until she rounded a corner and collided full-tilt with a man coming the other way.

The impact was so hard and unexpected that it knocked her sprawling to the ground where she lay blinking dazedly at his boots. He had been barely jostled.

"Well now," chuckled a deep, amused voice. "A man could learn to like this country when a pretty piece like you comes falling at my feet with your skirts flying over your head."

Before she could move, he picked her up as if she were a child, set her on her feet and began brushing the dust from her dress. It was the touch of his hands that finally jerked her out of her daze.

"Take your hands off me! How dare you!" she cried indignantly. "Beg my pardon at once!"

If she expected him to stammer an apology she was sorely disappointed. He merely grinned and cocked an eyebrow, eyeing the low cut of her bodice with something akin to a leer.

"Why should I beg your pardon?" he asked reasonably. "It was you who ran into me. Although, perhaps I should thank you, for you have quite satisfied my curiosity as to what kind of undergarments Thracian women wear."

Wilhelmina felt the blood rush to her face as she glared at him furiously. Who did this impudent cur think he was? "You insolent oaf! "I've a mind to have you whipped. Who are you? Who is your master? I will see to it that...What are you laughing at?" she demanded as he snorted laughter. Was he some kind of simpleton who did not know how much trouble he could be in?

Simpleton or not he was the biggest man she had ever seen, overtopping Eric Bischoff by more than a head. His shoulders were broad and his arms bulged with muscles. It was hard to see his face clearly in the flickering torchlight and as he loomed over her she felt a momentary twinge of unease. She had never seen another man who looked so casually dangerous or exuded such raw, animal strength.

Finally, his laughter subsided enough for him to answer her question. "My name is Kevin and my....um...master is Lord Nash" he informed her cheerfully.

She did not recognize the name. Perhaps Lord Nash was a new ally of her father's. She realized he was still staring at her and looked up, meaning to glare back and found him looking at her with the expression of a man who likes very much what he sees. She felt herself flush under his appraisal, suddenly the night air, which had been cool, seemed very warm indeed.

"Very well," she snapped. "Be assured Lord Nash will hear of this!"

"Yes, you be sure and tell him," he said, still grinning at her. "I am sure he will be most interested to know."

She barely resisted the urge to call him an unmannered pig--or worse--and swept past him with as much dignity as she could muster. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away.

When she arrived at her father's dining hall, Eric Bischoff was already there. He stood and watched her eagerly as she crossed the room to her place at her father's left hand. Bischoff was handsome in a weaselly kind of way and vain. His black hair was caught back at the nape of his neck with a jeweled clasp and his beard braided in two plaits down either side of his chin.

"Lady Wilhelmina." He greeted her in his smooth, insincere voice which somehow made each word sound lightly covered in slime. "Your beauty transforms this room, your eyes are like moongems, your-"

"Lord Calumet is too kind." Wilhelmina cut him off before he could start blathering about her hair or skin. He was an insufferable bore.

"Daughter," her father began as she took her seat. "Another guest will join us this evening. Though I must warn you, you may find his manner a bit...coarse."

She raised her eyebrows. "Coarse, Father?"

"One of those mercenary soldiers," Bischoff sneered. "Their so- called captain feels slighted he's been left out of tactical discussions. Your father is right to warn you. Filthy barbarians, they only-"

"Calumet!" Lord Flair warned as the door opened.

Wilhelmina looked up and stared as the same man she's collided into outside the livery strode in the hall. In the bright light he seemed even taller than before. Even Bischoff who was imposing in his own right looked like a dwarf beside Lord Nash. Lord Nash stood at least seven feet tall and looked unlike any mercenary she'd ever seen. He had smoldering hazel eyes in a handsome, wolfish face and golden blond hair worn in the fashion of warlords, long and tied back at the nape of the neck. His
beard was neatly trimmed and he wore simple huntsman's garb, tight leather leggings and an open tunic that left his chiseled chest bare.

When he saw her he flashed her a crooked smile and tipped her a sly wink that made her cheeks go hot. She was annoyed with herself at her reaction. Certainly he was handsome enough but why was she blushing like a giggling girl with a crush? She rose to her feet as her father greeted Nash and presented him to Bischoff.

"And this is my lovely daughter, Wilhelmina" Lord Flair finally said.

"Lord Nash, the house of Flair welcomes you," she greeted him formally, not quite daring to meet his eyes.

"I thank you, my lady," he replied in a solemn voice. His lips twitched in a smile. "It has come to my attention that one of my men has insulted you. I believe you wished to have him whipped?"

Wilhelmina felt her face redden as Lord Nash grinned at her across the table, enjoying her discomfort. Her father and Bischoff looked curiously at her.

"No need," she said icily. "It was a minor matter."

The dinner went fairly smoothly; Wilhelmina said little as the men were engrossed in discussing battle tactics. Several times Bischoff tried to draw her into private conversation but she rebuffed him easily. Once she noticed Lord Nash had seen the exchange and gave him a withering glare. Unfortunately, he did not wither. Rather he grinned and leaned over the roasted beef joint.

"Why the daggers, Lady Wilhelmina?" he asked under his breath.

"Don't speak to me," she hissed.

Lord Nash glanced at Bischoff. "Why? Are you already spoken for?" he asked.

Wilhelmina glared. "Yes," she lied without hesitation. "Lord Bischoff is the best swordsman of his generation and if you insult me again you shall have to answer to him!"

"Oh, then I shall have to consider myself warned," he said with mock fright.

She looked away, her cheeks flushing. Why did he keep staring at her and why did she feel as if he knew she was lying? She wished he would leave her alone and join the other men in their war talk.

Just then, Lord Flair stood up, his goblet raised in toast. "Enough talk of battle, Lord Nash, this is a happy occasion." He turned and smiled at Wilhelmina. "Lord Nash, you are the first to know of the betrothal of my daughter to the most worthy Lord Bischoff."

Wilhelmina felt the blood fall from her face and for a moment thought she would faint. She raised disbelieving eyes to her father's face. She could not fathom that he had done this without consulting her. Lord Flair smiled, mistaking her shock for a gentler breed of surprise.

"I know it's sudden, dear, but you are fond of Eric and he is a most excellent match."

Wilhelmina was tempted to throw her goblet in Bischoff's smirking face and shout she would not marry him if the dragged her to the altar in chains. But rational thought took hold. She could not disgrace her father with such a public display of disobedience. He would never forgive her. Perhaps later, when they were alone, she could make him understand she could never marry Bischoff.

"I...I am honored," she stammered weakly.

Lord Flair smiled, pleased.

Wilhelmina pressed her hands together in an effort to stop their trembling. She looked up and saw Lord Nash watching her with an inscrutable expression in his eyes. Slowly, he raised his mug. His voice seemed overly hearty as he announced "Good tidings to the happy couple!"

* * *

It was late when she finally found her father alone in his study. He greeted her with a smile, he was well pleased with the way she acted. He had feared she might prove unreceptive to Bischoff's proposal. His fears were founded when she said bluntly, without preamble, "Father, I cannot marry Bischoff!"

The smile left his face. "You have no choice in the matter," he said shortly. " The wedding is already set within a month."

"Father, please! I despise Eric, I cannot-"

"Enough!" Lord Flair thundered, his voice shaking with anger. "By the gods, I thought you had outgrown these childish displays! You are my daughter and you will do as you are told! You will not disgrace me! You will marry Bischoff because I order it! Now, get thee gone from my sight and never seek of this to me again!"

Wilhelmina spun around and ran from the courtyard, tears streaming from her face. Her father had always given in to her every whim but somehow she knew he would never capitulate in her marriage. She felt the animal need to run, run away from the castle as far and fast as her feet would take her. She ran blindly, not knowing or caring where she went as long as it took her away.

She ran for some time before her tight corsets began hampering her breathing and her feet hurt in their thin silken slippers. She looked around and realized she had come quite a distance east of the castle, near the camps of Bischoff's soldiers. Slowly, she wiped her eyes and turned back but had gone less than three steps when someone stepped out in front of her and a rough male voice said, "Well, well, well, who have we here?"

A second and third man appeared, one of them thrust a torch at her face.

"A spy, methinks!" he sneered.

Wilhelmina saw the crests on their tunics and realized they were Bischoff's men.

"Are you mad?" she demanded. "I am Lord Flair's daughter, let me pass!" She began to stalk by but one of them grabbed her by the arm and jerked her back.

"Flair's daughter, eh? Well, yer worship, how kind of ye to grace our presence. Not leaving so soon are ye?"

"Let me go!" she shouted, attempting to yank her arm from his grasp. She smelled the reek of liquor on them and realized they were drunk. Several more men were approaching, none of them making any moves to help her. Suddenly, she whirled around and sank her teeth into her captor's wrist.

"Bitch!" he shouted as he dropped her arm. She spun around but was surrounded on all sides. The man whom she'd bitten snarled "Ye'll pay for that!"

He grabbed the wine pouch at his belt, pointed it at her and squeezed. She cried out as wine shot out and drenched her hair, her dress and stung her eyes. Suddenly, she heard horse's hooves and a new voice, brimming with anger.

"Can you Thracian dogs find nothing better to squirt at your women than wine?"

She wiped her eyes just in time to see Lord Nash's fist smash against the jaw of the man whom she'd bitten. He collapsed in a boneless heap. Lord Nash turned on the other men, and at first they stood their ground, but when he drew his enormous broadsword they, suddenly deciding discretion was the better part of valor, fled into the darkness.

Lord Nash sheathed his sword and turned to her, unable to keep a smile from curving his lips. "You are all right?" he asked, dragging her to her feet. Her dress was soaked, her elaborate coiffure torn apart from her run, the wine and her collapse.

She glared up at him through curls that still dripped wine into her eyes and coated her words in the stickiest sugar she could dredge up. "Why of course I am all right, Lord Nash. I frequently spend my evenings strolling the castle grounds and wind up dashed to the ground by my betrothed's drunken guards!"

Kevin passed her a clean, if somewhat worn, kerchief. "Wipe your face, my lady," he ordered. "Although at this moment you more resemble a filthy urchin wearing castoffs than you do a 'lady.'" In the dark, Wilhelmina could not see the laughter dancing in his eyes, and took his words to heart. Outraged at his daring, she gasped.

"I will have you know, *Lord Nash* that I have served as my father's chatelaine since I gained the age of twelve! I have all the necessary accomplishments of any lady, and a few normally reserved for men. I have been taught how to defend myself with sword or dagger, throw a knife, and I can read and write in three languages. I daresay I am the most accomplished lady you will ever meet!"

With that parting shot, Wilhelmina tossed the kerchief back at Kevin and attempted to stalk away, her head high in the air. Alas, the clouds obscured the moon and with her nose in the air she was unable to pay attention to the path in front of her and stepped onto a sharp stone. The edge pierced her soft evening shoe and cut deeply into her foot. With a cry, she stumbled to her knees again.

A whoop escaped Kevin, for this was finally too much. The chit had more mouth on her than was seemly, but it suited him. Most women were taught to be silent in a man's presence, and even those that weren't were intimidated into quiescence by his size and manner. Not Wilhelmina. She stared him straight in the eye (after tilting her head up a good way) and dared him to cross her. He had thought this little sojourn into the hills would be an uneventful war council, but perhaps things would be more interesting after all.

He walked over to her as she was getting to her feet. She stumbled again as she tried to put weight on her injured foot and found she could not. He thought he heard a few choice words muttered under her breath but couldn't be sure as he was still behind her. Still chuckling, he swept her into his arms and started for the castle.

"'Struth woman, what I have never met is one as clumsy as you. Do you always fall over when you see a handsome man?"

Oh, the arrogance of the man! Wilhelmina harrumphed but refused to dignify his question with a response. She itched to give him a tongue lashing the likes of which he'd never heard, but since she'd already done that twice and not come out on top, she decided to keep quiet for now. She still had to come up with a way to get out of this infernal marriage! Eric was no match for her, and she had no doubt he would use force to ensure she remembered her place.

When they neared the castle gates, Kevin set her on her feet. "No need to call out your fearsome betrothed. I daresay Lord Calumet would not appreciate his future wife out mixing with the guards. Go on and get yourself inside before I have to rescue you from aught else." He patted her rump and pushed her towards the door.