Chapter Fifteen #3
The one person who had been conspicuously absent from the beginning had been Jubil.
Peyton and Ivy had been too caught up in the king’s arrival to lay search for their aunt, and a servant had returned shortly after the meal had commenced to inform Peyton that Jubil was not in her rooms. Puzzled but unconcerned, Peyton continued to enjoy the evening.
Until Jubil showed herself. One look at her aunt told Peyton that she was flying again and she cast a panicked glance at Alec as the woman entered the room. Jubil’s face was slack, her eyes bright, as she made her way toward the table.
“Christ,” Alec muttered, leaping to his feet.
Swiftly, he moved to intercept the older woman, who merely smiled at him dreamily. “Sweet, sweet Alec,” she murmured. “Peyton’s Alec.”
Alec smiled weakly and turned the woman around. But not before Edward caught sight of her.
“A relative, Alec?” he asked casually.
Alec paused, Jubil clutched in his grip. “This is the Lady Jubil de Fluornoy, my wife’s aunt. She is…. not feeling well.”
Edward, half-drunk with fine ale, eyed her. “She appears well enough. Bid her join us.”
Seated down from the king, Peyton shook her head faintly, fearfully. Alec caught her silent pleas.
“I am afraid not, sire. Lady Jubil should not exert herself.”
Edward shrugged, not particularly caring if the woman joined their meal or not. Thankfully, Alec quickly hustled the woman to the door.
“Do you know the story of the Trojan horse, Alec?” Jubil whispered.
“Aye,” he said shortly, interested in returning the woman to her chamber.
Jubil was nearly dead weight in his arms, leaning against him. “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts. Beware of the threat from within.”
Alec heard her words, but he wasn’t listening. He half-carried her up the stairs, only to be met by Toby. The young knight, having recently returned from seeing to the king’s troops, had just finished changing into a clean tunic to join the festivities.
But Alec had other plans for his brother. He thrust Jubil at him. “Take her. Return her to her chamber and post a guard. I do not want her near the dining hall in her condition.”
Toby took the woman upon him and, as always, was awed by the woman’s mysterious powers. He gazed at her, the delicate face and faded blue eyes, as she smiled up at him.
“Darling Toby. You love your brothers terribly, all but one. You hate him with a vengeance.”
Toby’s brow furrowed as Alec waved his hand at the two of them as if to resign Jubil to the care of the angels; he had no time or desire to deal with her.
As his brother retreated down the stairs, Toby assisted Jubil back to her chamber.
The older woman kept her empty gaze on him, making him nervous and curious at the same time.
“’Tis a terrible thing to be a bastard,” Jubil whispered as Toby dumped her onto the mattress. “How fortunate that Lord Brian should accept you so.”
Toby did not reply. He did not like to be reminded of his roots and he moved for the door, trying his best to ignore the woman who held such a peculiar fascination for him.
“Do you hate your natural father as well as his son?” she asked, her eyes half-lidded.
Toby stopped, his irritation rising. “I do not know my natural father. Go to sleep, my lady.”
Jubil’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Have you no clues as to who has fathered you?”
There was something in her voice that made Toby nervous. He paused in the half-open door, eyeing Jubil as if she were about to spout forth curses damning him to eternal hell. His common sense told him to leave before it was too late, but the urge of a fatherless boy demanded to hear her through.
“What is it that you know?”
Jubil propped herself up on an elbow, her gaze clouded. “Have you never asked your mother, sweetheart?”
Toby shook his head, his only answer. Jubil smiled a drug-relaxed gesture and patted the bed beside her, motioning for him to sit. With the greatest hesitation, he did as he was asked.
“Your mother loves you,” she said softly, running a finger up his broad arm seductively. “So does Lord Brian, in spite of your shaming circumstances. Look into your heart, sweet Toby. Do you truly have no clue as to who your natural father is?”
Toby gazed at her with veiled terror. Slowly, he shook his head. Jubil smiled faintly, her warm hand caressing his shoulder. “So strong. So young. So unlike your cursed family roots.”
Toby felt the heat from her massaging hand like a roaring blaze. He wanted to pull away, but it was as if he lacked the strength. He could do naught but sit and stare at the woman. His mouth worked nervously as he tried to respond and when he spoke, it was forced and breathless.
“Who, Jubil? Damnation, tell me what you know!”
Jubil tore her gaze away from his powerful young body and fixed him in the eye. “Give me what I want and you shall have your answer.”
His eyes widened as he realized what she meant.
He swallowed hard, his gaze unsteadily raking over her body.
Although she was old enough to be his mother, she did not lack for physical beauty and the prospect, strangely, did not disgust him.
In fact, if he thought about it, his ideas had not been much different since the day they’d met.
He’d always held an unusual interest for the sorceress.
His gaze returned to Jubil’s pale blue orbs.
Without a word, he began to remove his clothing.
Jubil watched, biting her tongue between her teeth, as he stripped off his tunic to reveal a magnificently trim torso.
Before he could move to his breeches, she leapt up from the bed with a cry of passion and sank her teeth deep into the flesh of his abdomen.
Toby grunted with the pain and surprise, knowing that the woman had drawn blood. His first reaction was to pull away from her, but the very moment his hands touched her silken blond hair he found himself pressing her face against his flesh. The harder he pressed, the harder she bit.
“Christ,” he gasped, more aroused than he had ever been in his entire life.
Jubil grinned, pulling her mouth away from the swollen bite. Breathing heavily, Toby watched as she licked the wound, lapping up the pin-points of blood that her teeth had created.
Gazing into Toby’s astonished, flushed face, her soft hands moved for his breeches.
“You will not forget tonight, sweet Toby,” she rasped, freeing his thick manroot with a crow of delight.
“I expect I won’t, Jubil,” he replied raggedly.
One hand cupped his testicles reverently while the fingers of her other hand embedded themselves in the cleft between his buttocks. He grunted with fevered pleasure as her hot mouth closed over the crown of his manhood.
Toby was closer to dying from sheer ecstasy than he ever thought possible. Lust such as he had never known bolted though his big body with aching force, weakening him to the point of collapse.
“Christ!” he exclaimed in a harsh gasp, feeling himself peaking.
Her mouth still on his throbbing organ, Jubil smiled. “Nay, sweetheart, not Christ. You may call my Cybele.”
*
Paul had been waiting and waiting for Colin.
He knew that Colin liked to take an afternoon ride, usually meeting one of the serving wenches in the stables beforehand.
But today Colin was late and there was no wench waiting for him in the shadows of the livery.
Paul stood by a huge pile of straw, waiting still.
Just when he thought he might have to seek Colin another time, a recognizable blond head caught his eye. Tall and muscular, Colin made his way toward the stable dressed in heavy leather garments. As he approached, Paul twitched nervously. He did not like the bad man.
Colin did not say a word to Paul, but passed him a curious glance as he headed for the stable. Paul, his palms sweating, dashed to intercept him.
“I would speak with you,” Paul said quietly.
Colin stopped impatiently. “Speak to me? About what? What could you possibly have to say to me, simpleton?”
Paul did not react to the insult; his diminished capacity afforded him little feeling in the area of humiliation. Instead, he fought hard for much-needed bravery. “I heard you telling Thia that you wanted to hurt Lady Peyton.”
Colin’s eyes widened immediately. “You….” quickly, he glanced about. Grasping Paul by the sleeve, he yanked him into the dim recesses of the stable.
Paul jerked himself free of the iron grasp, stumbling over a stool and struggling to regain his footing. “I heard you. If you hurt Lady Peyton, I shall tell my father.”
Colin’s reactive instinct was to strike the man senseless, but he uneasily refrained. It would not do to strike his future brother-in-law and, someday, his liege. Swallowing his shock, he struggled to remain calm.
“I am not going to hurt her,” he said evenly, moving toward the dense man. “I simply…. I want to surprise her, and I need Thia’s help.”
Paul shook his head hard, backing away. “That’s not what you said. I heard you tell my sister that you wished to exact revenge.”
Colin was advancing, slowly and steadily. “You misunderstood, Paul. I would not hurt your brother’s wife.”
Paul swallowed, back-stepping as the taller man stalked him. He knocked over a bucket, tripping over the handle and wildly kicking it away. He did not like the gleam in Colin’s eye. “You said you were going to kill her and I won’t let you. She is too lovely and…. and I like her. She is kind.”
“You won’t let me?” Colin raised his eyebrows. His footfalls were slow, deliberate. “And just how do you plan to stop me?”
Paul was unaware that he was backing himself into a dead end.
Behind him, his father’s massive charger was tethered in his stall because the animal had a tendency to bite at everything that moved.
A black hood covered the horse from his ears to his nose, purposely blinding him to the grooms who tended him.
“I told you,” he said in a thin voice, bumping into the wall of the stall as he continued to backtrack. “I am going to tell my father what you said.”
“Why haven’t you told him already?” Colin asked softly.
Paul swallowed hard; his terror was gaining a handle on his composure and he gasped when he nearly tripped over his own feet.
Colin kept moving toward him and Paul was sure the man was going to strike him, or kick him, or worse.
Beads of sweat began to form on his oily brow, realizing too late that confronting Colin Warrington with the information had not been a wise decision.
“Why?”
Paul’s eyes were wide at the repeated question. “Because…. I wanted to exact your promise that you would not harm her. I thought I could convince you to leave her alone.”
“You intended to blackmail me?” Colin cocked an eyebrow, a thin smile on his lips. “My, my, Paul. How grown-up of you to resort to blackmail.”
Paul knew vaguely what blackmail meant and realized that, indeed, that was what he had meant to do. It wasn’t until this moment that he realized there was a word for what he was trying to accomplish, and his bravery made a weak return.
“Then you had better promise that you will not harm Lady Peyton,” he said firmly. “’Else I shall tell my father, and he shall be angry with you.”
A few feet behind Paul, the warhorse began to quiver. Colin could see over Paul’s shoulder that the horse smelled the men approaching. Silk-smooth nostrils flared and slender ears piqued, listening. The closer Paul drew unknowingly, the more excited the horse became.
A flash of evil crossed Colin’s mind. It suddenly became clear how he could rid himself of the impending threat without taking the blame. His lips creased with a sinister expression.
“I promise, Paul,” he said quietly, advancing still, maneuvering Paul towards the charger’s stall. “I swear that I shall not harm Lady Peyton.”
Paul’s sweaty face washed with instant surprise. “Truly?”
Colin nodded slowly. “Truly.”
Paul stopped his back-peddling a mere foot in front of the open stall, but Colin continued to advance. When he was nearly upon the simple man, he smiled benevolently. “You and I are to be brothers, are we not?”
Paul nodded eagerly. “We are. I should like another brother since Alec has left.”
A degree of hatred rippled across Colin’s face, but it was quickly gone. Instead, he held up his arms as if to hug the smaller man. “I will be a better sibling, I promise. Embrace me, brother.”
Paul, eager and innocent and trusting, put up his arms. Instead of drawing him into his embrace, Colin planted his hands on Paul’s shoulders. Instead of clasping him against his breast, he shoved as hard as he could.
Instead of living to a ripe old age, the heir to the House of Summerlin met his death beneath the hooves of a startled destrier.
Colin watched and smiled, unconcerned with the splatters of blood that rained against the walls of the stall.
When a massive hoof came down on the weak human skull, Colin turned away and leisurely strolled from the stable.
The heir was dead.