The Marriage Parley

CHAPTER TWELVE

Margaret did not like the way John stared at her. He looked at her as she were his to do with what he chose.

She stepped away from him. "John?"

"I did everything I could." John shrugged and raised his hands as if powerless. "For a moment I almost had the king convinced to give you to me, but he wanted this peace more. I felt sure the death of Hugh would work."

"What?" She put distance between them.

John closed the distance. "I did not think the lout capable of such honor." He shrugged. "It matters not, however. He cannot have you."

"I am to marry Richard. You know that." The distance to the tent flap loomed large with John standing halfway. "Everything is agreed."

John scowled. "Nay, Margaret. You will not marry Elford. You are not for him. You are for me."

"John, I chose to marry him." She edged to the right.

As she had hoped John moved with her and gave her a clearer run at freedom. "You only think that." He raised his voice. "You think that, which is why you let him put his filthy hands on you."

The blood drained from her face. How could he know what had occurred in the tent?

"I heard the two of you." John's face twisted in malice. "Grunting like rutting pigs and you moaning like a camp whore." He clenched his fists and punched his thighs. "I shall wipe the memory of him from your mind and your flesh."

He lunged for her and Margaret ran for the entrance.

A wrenching tug at her hair dragged her to a stop. "Nay." He yanked her head back, twisting her neck. "Do not run from me. I will teach you not to run from me."

Margaret tried to think of something to say, something that would hold him until help could come. Even now, Richard could be striding for the tent. Or Simon would come to look for her. "You are frightening me."

"Margaret." His voice brimmed with regret. "I would not have to frighten you if you would do as you ought. You have brought this on yourself, and now I must show you the error of your ways."

"Richard will not tolerate this." She tried another tack.

"Nay, he will not." He dragged her back toward the table. "And that is exactly the point." He shifted and shoved her forward.

Her face hit the table and her vision blurred. Her cheek ached from the blow with the table. She screamed, "Richard!"

"Be quiet!" John slammed her head into the table. His forearm pinned her as his hips held her in place. Through her gown his rod pressed against her. She wriggled in his hold, trying to free herself.

He kicked her legs apart, his breath rasping in her ear. "Richard will not want you again, after another man has been where he has."

Desperation clawed at her and she fought to keep her mind clear. "Think, John, he will kill you for this."

"He dares not." John released her hair and dragged at her skirts. "I am favored by the king."

She struggled against his weight as cold air rushed over her ankles and then her knees. She screamed, louder than before.

John clamped his hand over her mouth. His fingers gouged her legs as he dragged her skirts up. His weight pressed her against the table, and she could not get free.

The tent flap opened, and Richard appeared.

He went for John in a blur of motion.

Suddenly she was no longer pinned.