Skye had the upper hand now, and she knew it. She had quickly ascertained the duc was no fool. He would therefore not want a scandal. "The choice as to whether you live or die is up to you, monseigneur. Make it now!" she said, her gaze icy.

"How do you know that you can trust me, madame?" he asked her, unable to keep his eyes from her beautiful breasts. "I could agree, and then when you are off my chest, your knife put away, renege on our agreement. An agreement made under such duress can scarcely be legal."

"You are, so your nephew claims, an honorable man. I must assume that honor extends to a mere woman as well as to your fellow man."

He nodded, rather surprised by her logic. "Very well, madame, I agree. I will not beat you again, but understand that any children you give me will be brought up in my faith, and not yours. I will not allow you to taint my sons with the great harlot Rome."

"I agree," she said without hesitation, knowing that if she decided to bear his children she would be able to teach them love despite Pastor Lichault. She swung lightly off him and lay the fruit knife upon the candlestand. Then, sitting back against the pillows, she drew the finely embroidered linen sheets up to cover her bosom. The simple show of modesty rather intrigued him.


He sat up and looked at her. "You are a formidable woman, madame."

"My name is Skye," she said quietly. "You have said it but once since we first met yesterday. Can you not call me by my name in the privacy of our chambers at least?"

"You have only used my name once also, Skye."

"It is an unusual name, Fabron," she answered him.

"It is peculiar to this region," he said. "It is a family name. From the beginning of time there have always been Fabrons in the de Beaumont family."

There was a long silence between them, and then she asked, "Why do you dislike women so much?"

He thought a moment, then said, "I didn't realize that I did until just now." He sighed. "I suppose I resent the fact that I could not become a priest in my youth, as I wanted to. I was my father's eldest legitimate son. Edmond's father was my only full brother, although my father populated the region with his bastards. One of those bastards was even the son of a young noblewoman. He had few scruples, my father. He was a very carnal man. He was also a very strong-willed one. Eldest sons inherited, and only death was an accepted excuse for shirking one's responsibilities.

"My first wife suffered many years trying to give me a child. Poor Marie. With each miscarriage or stillbirth she became more determined to give me a live son. Such a sweet woman. She died trying, and I believed that God was punishing me for not having followed my conscience. When my second wife, Blanche, finally gave birth to that drooling idiot who is called my son, and then died also, I was certain that God was punishing me.

"When I met Pastor Lichault and confided in him he assured me that the loss of these two women had satisfied God's anger. He says that you are a healthy, vigorous woman who will easily give me children if I can but curb your wicked spirit, which is an affront to God."

"I cannot agree with the pastor," Skye said quietly. "A woman is best handled with love and kindness. Like a flower, she will grow and flourish with a man's love. Unkindness will only make her vengeful and bitter. Besides, if you expect the kind of son who can rule this duchy, it is a strong woman who must bear him for you."

"Did you love the other men you were married to, Skye?" he asked her curiously. "Did they not object to your strong will?"

"I loved three of them," she said. "Each was a different man, and yet each possessed a great capacity to love. Yes, I loved them, and they loved me. None ever objected to my ways." Her face was alight with her memories, and he caught his breath in wonder at how incredibly beautiful she was.

Leaning over and taking her hand, he turned it and kissed the palm. Her eyes regarded him seriously. She felt nothing for him, although she knew he was trying, and so she felt that she must try also. There was no other choice. She withdrew her hand from his and, reaching out, touched his cheek. He looked back at her, his glance equally serious and unsmiling.

"I know that the Bible says it is wrong for a man and a woman to show themselves as God created them, but at this moment I wish for nothing more than to see you naked. Will you grant me that wish, Skye?"

Drawing the covers off, she rose from the bed. "I am sure," she said, "that it is Pastor Lichault who has told you this, Fabron, but I believe he is wrong. The Bible says that we were created in God's image, and if that be so, how can it be wrong to admire what God hath wrought, what God is?" She turned slowly so he might have a full and complete view of her body.

He almost wept at her beauty; the small perfect breasts, the graceful line of her buttocks and legs, the slender grace of her waist, the long line of her back, her shapely arms. Everything was perfection, but for the marks of his rod on her skin. They would fade, but seeing them, he felt guilty. "You cannot be real," he said. "The pastor is right! Women are an invention of the Devil! Cover yourself, madame!"

In answer she flung herself upon the bed next to him. "No, Fabron," she said firmly. She had made up her mind to fight the ignorance and superstition of the Huguenot. She was the duc's wife now, and she was not going to allow Pastor Lichault either to rule or destroy her marriage. "The Bible tells us that woman was created by God from the rib of Adam, the first man."

"How do you know this? Who told it to you?"

"No one told me, Fabron. The Bible has been translated into English, and I have seen it, and read it with my own eyes."

"Your wicked Church forbids that you know what is in the Bible," was his answer.

"The Church forbids many things, Fabron, and I do not always agree with them." She smiled a small smile at him. "I told you that I was not the best of Catholics. The Bible was translated, and I wanted to read what it said. I did."

"Do you always do what you want, madame?" His black eyes were stern, but the little hint of humor was there in his voice again.

"The choice is not always mine, Fabron, but when it is I usually choose to please myself, yes." What a strange man he was, Skye thought. He was tortured and guilt-ridden, and he had been cruel to her, yet she felt sorry for him.

Their eyes met, and then he reached out his hand and smoothed it down the curve of her hip. "It is wrong surely to make love in the daylight," he said low, and she saw he wanted her.

"Has Pastor Lichault said it?" she gently teased, watching him from beneath hooded lids.

"The subject has never come up, Skye. I have never read it was so in the Bible, have you?"

"No, monseigneur, I have not."

His hand moved to fondle her buttock. "Have you ever before made love in the daylight?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered him. She could see how very roused he was by her body, by their conversation, by the picture in his mind that their talk had aroused. With a sob he was pushing her back against the pillows to fumble with her breasts, all the while murmuring, "Surely such pleasure must be wrong! We should not do this thing. We should not!" Yet he was possessing her quickly, before she was even ready for him, moistening his fingers in his mouth and rubbing them against her cleft, pushing eagerly into her to satisfy his own desires.

Skye closed her eyes, and let him have his way as he sobbed and thrust atop her. At least, she thought relieved, he is capable of functioning without cruelty. In time I will teach him to give me pleasure too if I can but free him from his fears. How odd, she thought. For the first time in my life it is I, and not the man, who is in charge of the lovemaking.

Then with a wild cry the duc collapsed, sated with his lust. Although she was not yet ready to forgive him his brutality she felt strangely sympathetic toward him. He was really quite a sad man, a weak man filled with fears and prejudices. He was susceptible, however, to strength in others, and she was strong. Until now there had only been Pastor Lichault to influence him, but she would overcome that unpleasant creature, for if she did not she would find life with her new husband a living hell; and she could certainly not bring her children into such an atmosphere.


***

For many days Skye and Fabron remained alone together within her chambers. They spoke at length and as she listened she learned much about her new husband. There had never, she decided, been any real love in his life, and he was suffering greatly from its lack. The only person who had ever given him honest affection, it seemed, was Edmond, his nephew. His mother, a distant cousin of France's queen mother, Catherine de Medici, had been a cold and correct woman who, having borne her two children, left them to the casual care of others. His father had been a stern man of high principles and lusty appetites who had never once made an affectionate gesture toward either of his sons, being far too busy running the duchy-and pursuing the ladies, which he did equally well.

The only person who had ever offered Fabron warmth and affection was the castle priest, Père Henri, and perhaps from this had come his desire to join the Church, to emulate the man whom he most admired. His father, of course, would not hear of it, and Fabron de Beaumont had grown bitter. Père Henri had understood both parties, and had tried to mediate between father and son. If it was God's will that Fabron de Beaumont be a priest he would have been born the younger son, Père Henri insisted, hoping to satisfy both men, but this argument wore thin and grew more suspect with each miscarriage of Fabron de Beaumont's wives and their deaths. Then his father died, and there was no escape from his responsibilities. His younger brother was dead, injured in a tournament, and his only legitimate male relation was his dwarf nephew. He was forced to take another wife.