Satan's Mark

The sun was so warm, but beneath the canopy of leaves Annelise felt cool and refreshed. She began to sing as she danced, abandoning all restraint in the knowledge that she was alone. Her song was one of those she had learned at her mother’s knee, a song of love and betrayal, a song that she would never have dared to sing in her uncle’s hearing.

And so, my love, come lie with me…

There beneath the apple tree…

Give me, sweet, your own true lips,

And I’ll not press for…

Hearing a sound behind her, Annelise swung round, conscious that she was being watched. Her song ceased abruptly as she saw the man. It was the Cavalier she had met in the village—the one with the mocking eyes! The one who had made her heart behave so oddly.

‘Forgive me if I startled you, mistress. Your singing was sweet. It is long since I listened to a maid singing in the woods.’

‘You startled me, sir. I had not thought to see anyone here…’ She blushed as she realised she was in fact trespassing: these woods belonged to Longton Hall. ‘Master Clarke allowed me to come here and I had forgotten there was a new owner…’ She faltered as his eyes narrowed. He was angry. What had she said to make him look like that?

‘Say rather the rightful owner has come home. And none too soon, it seems, by what we have found here.’

‘Master Clarke was a good steward for some years,’ Annelise replied, eyes sparking at the criticism. ‘He was a good man, a godly man—the neglect began only after his wife and David died of the fever. And he died soon after, so cannot be blamed for what you have found.’

‘You are staunch in their defence,’ Justin said, his eyes intent on her face. ‘They were perhaps your friends, mistress?’

‘They were neighbours and friends,’ she replied, still on her mettle, her face proud, back stiff. ‘Had David lived only a year or so longer, I might have been his wife.’

‘Ah…I see why you defend Master Clarke.’

Justin nodded his understanding. At first he had not been sure that this enchanting creature was the little Puritan wench from the village. Without her cap to hide that hair she was indeed beautiful. Ralph had been right; she was well worth the bedding. A smile touched his mouth as he imagined her beneath him, her body naked as nature intended, her mouth soft, inviting his kiss. Her drab clothes belied the true nature of the wench. Beneath that veneer of modesty lay passion. He’d dare swear there was fire in her, though she no doubt did her best to quench it—perhaps not with her sweetheart, though.

‘Master Clarke’s son was your sweetheart, then. That is why you come here, to remember him and the delights of love he taught you here in some secret glade.’ He moved towards her, feeling the desire stir in him. A surprising thing, since his tastes usually ran to more sophisticated ladies of the Court. She looked up, eyes wide and, to his mind, inviting. He reached out, touching her cheek, his thumb brushing over her mouth, tempted to kiss her. ‘Perhaps you came looking for a lover today?’

‘No, indeed you are wrong!’ Annelise was horrified. Why was he looking at her so strangely? She stepped back hastily, her heart racing like the wind. How could he say such lewd, wicked things to her? ‘You mistake the matter, sir. My uncle spoke of arranging a match—to unite our families and lands, that is all.’

‘To unite…’ Justin frowned as he was struck by a sudden thought. Robert’s lands marched with those of Lord Woodward. Of course, why had he not realised at once? ‘Are you by chance the niece of Sir Hugh Featherstone?’

‘Yes.’ She was puzzled by the immediate change in his expression; the hot, intense look had gone from his eyes and he seemed stunned. ‘I am Annelise Woodward—do you know my uncle, sir?’

‘I know of him,’ Justin replied, his gaze narrowing. He was aware of frustration, of an unreasoning anger. ‘I had not thought him a man to allow his niece to run wild. It is hardly proper for you to be wandering about in this manner, Mistress Woodward. You could be mistaken for…’ He recollected himself. His own behaviour had been less than correct, but he had thought her a village girl. ‘I should have expected a girl of your station to be more closely watched.’

How dared he suggest that she was a hoyden—or worse? Annelise glared at him, her wrath simmering.

‘I have always been safe in these woods until today,’ she said, temper suddenly flaring. ‘Indeed, there were only godly people here—until you came with your friends, sir. My uncle knew me to be safe.’

‘Indeed, mistress, I will bow to your uncle’s superior knowledge.’

Justin smiled inwardly as he recovered from the shock. Damn it! He had come close to seducing his own ward; the knowledge that he had been on the verge of kissing her…of far more if she had been willing…shook him to the core. It was his duty to protect her, to challenge any who would dishonour or harm her—and to see her safely wed to a decent man.

Now that Justin had seen her, seen the beauty and the passion that lay beneath the surface, he knew that her marriage was a matter of urgency. Perhaps she had been safe in this place, but life in England was bound to change now that the old inhibitions had been swept away. The people had been repressed for so long that some were bound to fall into bad ways—he knew only too well the nature of men. He had taken his women where he’d found them, often on the ground, sheltered only by the warmth of a velvet night and a shared blanket. He was not the only soldier to have forgotten that a lady should be treated with tenderness and chivalry. And England would be awash with men who had lost their youth, lost all the finer feelings they had once had, together with their land and houses.

His next thought surprised him. This girl was too beautiful to be left to wither away in a tiny Cambridgeshire village. She should have the chance to live, to shine in the right surroundings—and it was his responsibility, his duty, to see that she had that chance.

She was turning away, her face reflecting the troubled nature of her thoughts. He had frightened her, distressed her. He did not want her to leave with harsh words unresolved between them.

‘Stay a moment, mistress,’ he said, catching at her sleeve. ‘I meant no disrespect, nor did I intend to imply your uncle was at fault. I have been a soldier too long, and my manners leave much to be desired. If I have upset you, I apologise.’

Annelise hesitated. There was something about him that attracted her, even when he made her angry. She sensed the power of the man—a man who had seen too much of war and killing. Yet there was a softer nature, an inner self he kept hidden but which she had glimpsed when he’d teased his friends. She thought she might like that other man very well.

‘There is no need for apology,’ she said. ‘It was my fault for taking off my cap. You thought me something I was not. It is only…that I needed some release. My uncle has been confined to his sick bed these past five days and I have been anxious. It was good to run wild for a moment, to feel free…but it was not proper and I should not have done it.’

The stubborn pride had gone from her lovely face, replaced by a look of shame. Justin felt a surge of anger at himself and those who had trodden down her spirit, making her believe that to live for pleasure was sin. He had scolded her, but in truth why should she not enjoy her innocent pleasures?

‘You were not at fault, Mistress Woodward,’ he said, and now the softness in his voice sent little tremors down her spine. ‘But perhaps you ought not to come here alone in future—for your own sake. There are men who might be tempted beyond bearing by such loveliness as yours, men who could not be trusted to behave as they ought.’

Annelise bent her head, her cheeks flaming. ‘I have been told…’

‘Nay, I do not mean that you should hide your beauty,’ Justin said. ‘I am not one of those who think beauty a sin, indeed I revere and treasure it. I meant only that these are dangerous times. For your safety I would have you bring a servant with you, to protect you from those who might harm you.’

‘Oh…’ Something in his look made her heart beat faster. She stared up at him, her lips parting on a sigh. ‘You…are kind, sir.’

‘Kind?’ Justin laughed, the devilment leaping up in his eyes. She was an innocent. How little she knew of men! ‘No, mistress, do not deceive yourself. Had you been other than you are, I might have done my best to lie with you this very day.’

Annelise lowered her gaze, her heart racing. His words ought to make her angry. He had no right to say them to her…but somehow she did not mind.

‘I…I think you mock me, sir.’

‘Oh, no, not you,’ he replied, his lips twisting in a wry smile. ‘Myself, perhaps—but not you.’

She looked up at him, the beginnings of confidence in her eyes. Justin drew in his breath. By God, she could be a charmer if she chose. She had been kept close, indoctrinated with a creed he found abhorrent—but what if she were shown another way to live?

His mind began to draw pictures. He saw her at Court, dressed in a gown more fitting to her beauty and station. He saw her beginning to emerge from her chrysalis, developing into the woman she could become—and he felt the laughter begin to bubble inside him.

How amusing it would be to turn this little Puritan into a lady of the Court. She was innocent, malleable—he could make of her what he wished. He imagined himself as her guardian, watching over her education. She could be anything he desired…the mistress of the King!

That was an idea to play with, Justin decided. It would put Barbara’s nose out, and he had never cared for the shrewish temper of Mistress Palmer—or Lady Castlemaine as she was now known. She might think herself invincible and flaunt the honours her husband had received from His Majesty, but Charles was not a fool; soon he must see how avaricious his mistress was—and then he would surely look about him for a replacement. And why not Mistress Woodward?

Justin found the notion amusing. He would not make up his mind just yet, but if this little beauty managed to catch Charles’s interest, it could bring him favour at Court—and yet she surely deserved more.

It was his duty to see her well married. After that the game was all to play. Only a fool would expect fidelity from his wife—and most would be flattered if she were chosen to grace the King’s bed.

‘I should like to call on Sir Hugh soon,’ Justin said, bowing his head to her. ‘When will it be convenient for me to call?’

Annelise was uncertain. She did not quite like the way he was looking at her.

‘I am not sure, sir. I could send word to Longton Hall if my uncle would like to see you—what name should I give him?’

‘Justin Rochefort,’ he replied. ‘It is important that I speak to your uncle, mistress. Please ask him if he will see me as a matter of some urgency.’

‘As you wish.’

Annelise hesitated. He had let go of her sleeve; she was free to go, but somehow she lingered. Though at times he seemed stern, there was a charm about him—something that made her want to know more of him, something that made her foolish heart leap like lambs in the spring.