He would not be sucked into a verbal argument with her, for certainly she would lose. “The third rule: if any of the previous two rules I have mentioned are broken, know my punishment shall be swift. My hand to your backside was only a foretaste. You shall become quite familiar with it. Is this in any way unclear?”
She simply stared at him. In fact, they were quite lost in each other’s eyes for more reasons than either one of them could fathom. Ryan was so outraged at his demands that she could hardly express her anger, but she suddenly found herself thinking how amazing his eyes were. The lashes were thick and blond, and the gray color was like glistening silver. They glittered at her in the dim light, though it was difficult to tell the emotion within. Yet the one thing she could sense was an innate gentleness; the man was as big as a bull, yet his manner was completely calm. But his threats were also sincere. The longer she gazed at him, unexplainably, the more her resistance seemed to ease.
Dennis, too, was having a difficult time concentrating. He knew he should remain firm with her: to show any weakness would be to lose charge of her forever. If she even suspected the sort of effect she had on him, that a mere glance of those golden-brown eyes could make his steadfast determination waver, or cause a queer tremble in his stomach, then she would be uncontrollable. He could never let her know, even though he’d only been acquainted with the woman for two days, how strongly, already, she moved him.
But there was a subject at hand, one he intended to settle. He could spend the rest of his life gazing into her magnificent face, wondering why her beauty affected him so.
“Well?” His voice sounded rather strained. “Do you comprehend me?”
Ryan wasn’t happy, not in the least. And she was even unhappier for thinking, just for a split second, that Dennis d’Vant was gentle and handsome. If she was to gain the upper hand with him, she had to maintain her anger.
“I hear you,” she grumbled.
She was agreeing too easily and Dennis did not trust her. Still, he would take her word as a lady until she proved otherwise. “Good,” he pushed himself off of her, though her body beneath him had been too sweet for words. “Now that we have that established, I shall tell you that my sister acts as chatelaine for St. Austell, but she is more than willing to turn the duties over to you. In truth, she is not much of a chatelaine.”
Ryan coughed again, sitting up on the bed. She watched Dennis pace across the floor, studying his massive frame and easy gait. Another fit of coughs swept her, and as she covered her face with her hands, she could see that Dennis was watching her. She thought he looked concerned, though he did a good job concealing it. But the notion gave her an idea.
“I am not much of one, either,” she suddenly sobbed, loudly and full of dramatics. “I do not want to go to St. Austell!”
Dennis looked at her. “Not for a moment would I believe tears from you. Save yourself the trouble.”
She ceased instantly and her lip protruded in a pout. She would not waste her time if he could not be swayed, but she had thought, for a moment, that he might have been pliable to her wiles. But it had been a foolish assumption that d’Vant would be pliable to anything; gentle or no, the man was not a fool.
Defeated, she looked at him for a moment and their gazes met. There was a strange pull between them that was difficult to describe, something she had never experienced before. Ryan did not know if she liked it or not.
“I do not understand something, Sir Dennis,” she said.
“What is that?”
She looked serious but Dennis braced himself for another ruse. She was obviously full of them. “You are a d’Vant,” she said after a moment. “Our families have been enemies for as long as you and I have been alive. How can you want this marriage so easily?”
He could see she was sincere and he let his guard down ever so slightly. “I want peace,” he said simply. “This is the manner by which to achieve that.”
Her brow furrowed. “There are other ways to achieve that. A simple treaty would do that, don’t you think? Why a marriage?”
“A marriage is the strongest treaty possible. St. Austell and Launceston will be bound by protocol and honor to peace.”
“But don’t you hate me?”
He stared at her. Then, the gray eyes twinkled. “Most likely not.”
There was warmth to the statement that made Ryan giddy and uncomfortable. Other than her father and the earl, she did not pay much attention to men, and this new world of betrothals and husbandly affection unnerved her as much as the thought of marrying a d’Vant did.
Now, with the realization that not only was she bound to this union, but that Dennis was some sort of antithesis to all she’d ever known about the House of d’Vant, her entire world was disoriented and strange. She wasn’t sure what to think anymore.
Before she could reply, another fit of coughing overtook her, just as the door to her chamber flew open, and in rushed Thomas, the earl, and Douglas de Lohr with his broadsword drawn. Somewhere in the corridor outside, Lyla was shrieking something and Dennis, though weaponless, calmly faced the intruders. He had expected as much, frankly, and he was surprised it had taken them this long.
Thomas looked at his daughter to see if she was intact. Ryan coughed, waving her father off to indicate she was well, and the man turned his attention back to Dennis. “D’Vant,” he said with a hint of warning in his tone. “’Tis improper for you to be in my daughter’s chamber. Moreover, she is terribly ill and should not be upset.”
Dennis glanced at Ryan, recovering from her coughing spell. “I was just leaving, my lord.”
“Well and good,” Douglas had his broadsword up, aimed for Dennis. “I shall escort you.”
His eyes were full of venom and Ryan spoke. “That is unnecessary, Douglas. He can find his own way.”
But Douglas was looking for a confrontation, any reason to cut down an enemy he had been fighting for the better part of his career. Dennis wasn’t about to give him one and silently moved for the chamber door. But the knight flinched in a threatening manner and Dennis’ left arm came up, smacking the blade of the broadsword away from him and very nearly sending the sharp edge into the earl’s neck.
Ryan’s eyes widened in fear as she gazed at Dennis; the man had remained consummately cool and controlled since the moment she had met him, no matter how poorly she may have behaved in return. Now the expression on his face as he gazed at Douglas was nothing short of deadly, and Ryan knew real terror at that moment. Though she previously believed him gentle, the fact remained that he was, indeed, a d’Vant and warring was his vocation. The man was bred to kill.
The room shuffled about in chaos for a moment; the earl jumped back, out of the line of fighting, as Thomas stepped forward to prevent the two men from tearing up the room. Ryan, ignoring her own safety, leapt up from her bed and threw herself between the two hulking knights.
“No!” she cried, pushing Dennis back just as her father took hold of Douglas. “There will be no fighting. Douglas de Lohr, you apologize for your rash behavior!”
Douglas looked at her as if she was mad. “My behavior, my lady? I did nothing but defend you!”
“I do not need defending,” Ryan shot back. She was seized by another endless fit of coughing, reminding the others, once again, that she was very ill. Before Thomas could move to help her back to bed, Dennis swept her into his arms and neatly deposited her on the overstuffed mattress.
Ryan glanced at him as he stood up. It was amazing how all of the fury that had been in his eyes moments earlier was now vanished, and she swore she saw that strange familiar warmth again. In fact, his arms had been warm and safe and very nice. But he turned to the crowd in the room before she could acknowledge his aid.
“My wife is very ill,” he said, his baritone voice rumbling. “You will all kindly vacate her room and allow her to rest. Thomas, where is your damn physic? The man has been gone so long that she could have died while he was out fooling about. Well? Do you always em
ploy such unreliable people?”
He sounded suspiciously like a man who was used to giving orders wherever he went. He had even forgone the correct ‘my lord’ where it pertained to Thomas, and he called Ryan his wife, which was technically correct if not yet legally, which brought home the situation to them all. She did in fact belong to Dennis d’Vant. Douglas turned red, the earl looked grave, and Thomas merely stared at him.
“Like a bulldog with a bone,” Thomas mumbled. Then, he sighed and shook his head. “I do not suppose you want to wait until she is healed to marry her, then.”
“I shall marry her tonight.”
“You have sent for a priest?”
“My knight rode for one this morning. I expect his return at any moment.”
Ryan, lying back on the mattress, threw an arm over her eyes. “Can I at least get dressed before I am forced into matrimony?”
Dennis cocked an eyebrow at her. “Perhaps,” he said. “If these people would kindly vacate, I shall be glad to assist.”
“Out of the question, Sir Dennis,” Thomas said sternly.
Dennis looked at him. “’Tis not a matter of impropriety, I assure you. ’Tis a matter of intelligence.”
“I do not understand.”
“Your daughter is as cunning as she is beautiful. I have sworn not to let her out of my sight.”
The earl turned his back to Dennis, mumbling into Thomas’ ear. “He has a point. The last time we left her alone in here she escaped.”
Thomas looked at Ryan. “Did you hear that? No one trusts you now. Not even the man who is to be your husband.” He sighed imploringly. “I cannot remove him unless you swear on your mother’s grave that you will not make any attempt to escape.”
Ryan’s arm was still over her eyes. Then, the arm came away and her eyes locked with Dennis’, as if she was debating whether or not she should comply. She did not know why she should agree. But something deep inside told her she would not regret being obedient, for once.
“I swear on my mother’s grave that I will not attempt to escape.”
Dennis was the only one in the room who believed her.
CHAPTER THREE
St. Austell
The day was bright and cool. The party returning to St. Austell was in sight of the harbor bearing the same name, a great blue expanse that stretched to the horizon. Astride her small gray palfrey under a protective canopy held by four St. Austell soldiers, Ryan could see the small boats upon the gem-colored waters. Bute, tied to her wrist on a silk ribbon leash, trotted along obediently beside her. Having left Launceston just after the nooning meal, which had turned out to be her wedding feast, their arrival at St. Austell was timed with the kaleidoscopic sunset.
Ryan was dressed in a heavy green surcoat with a snug bodice that emphasized her round bosom. Her luscious hair was pulled over one shoulder, gently secured with a ribbon of the same silken green color. Beside her on a red-colored pony, Lyla wept silently into her handkerchief; she had been crying since their departure from Launceston. In fact, she had been crying since last night and Ryan wondered wearily if she had even stopped to take a breath. It was enough to try her already-weakened patience.
“Enough tears, Lyla,” Ryan finally said. “We have enough to deal with, without you crying yourself sick.”
Lyla sobbed and sobbed. “I cannot help myself,” she stammered. “We shall never see home again!”
Ryan gazed morosely at the St. Austell harbor in the distance. Then her eyes moved to Dennis; he was riding at the head of the column with two other knights. He’d barely said a word to her since this morning, other than to inquire about her health and to introduce her to the two knights that had accompanied him from St. Austell. Lyla, between sobs, noticed how closely her cousin was watching her new husband. There was a queer expression on her face.
“He is a beast,” Lyla said, wiping her red nose. “A foul-tempered beast. How are we supposed to live in the midst of this hell? How could Uncle Thomas have condemned us to this?”
Ryan, too, had been abnormally silent during the long ride from Launceston, and was not entirely sure why. Physically, she actually felt much better, but every time Dennis came around her, her stomach grew queasy and she thought she might become ill again. Then, when he ignored her, it felt as if a lead weight was pressing painfully on her chest. Perhaps she wasn’t feeling better, after all. Perhaps she was growing worse only to die in this godforsaken place.
“I suppose we are being punished,” she said, though she really did not mean it. “Me for escaping, and you for helping me.”
Lyla looked horrified. “Do you think so?”
Ryan shook her head. “No,” she said slowly. “I suppose not.”
Lyla’s tears were finally fading. In truth, she had cried herself dry. There wasn’t one drop of moisture left. She glanced at her cousin, feeling selfish that she had thought only of herself for the past twelve hours. Ryan had had a monumental night, and Lyla had spent most of it weeping over her own future. After all, it wasn’t as if she were married to Dennis d’Vant, thank God.
“Ryan?” she said softly.
“Aye?” Ryan’s eyes were still on Dennis.
“Was it…?” Lyla swallowed and tried again. “Was it difficult last night?”
Ryan turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”
Lyla wrinkled her nose. “You know… after the ceremony. Dennis stayed in your bower, but I did not hear a sound. I was in the corridor, you know, in case you needed me.”
Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Sounds of what?”
Lyla sighed. “Sounds of… well, marriage, Ryan. I did not hear a peep from you.”
Ryan knew exactly what she meant. She tried not to blush. “That is because he never touched me. He just told me to go to sleep. When I awoke, he was standing over me. I do not even know if he slept.”
Lyla looked at Dennis, far up in the column, astonished. “You mean he never… he did not touch you?”
“No.”
“But wasn’t that why he insisted on marrying you immediately?”
“Apparently not.”
Lyla was vastly confused. “But he came to your bower… he would not leave until the priest married you. I heard Uncle Thomas tell the earl that Dennis could not wait to get his damn hands on…”
“He did not get them on anything.”
“And he never said why he did not touch you?”
“Something about my being too ill. I am not sure, truly.” Ryan sniffled into her handkerchief delicately. “All I know is that my wedding was nothing I thought it would be. Instead of a church, I was married in my bower by a priest in dirty robes smelling of wine. Instead of a fine feast with gifts and dancing, we had a nooning meal like any other nooning meal, and then I was packed off like so much cargo. It was… well, I am not sure what to think of it.”
“It seems like Sir Dennis simply wanted to do it quickly.”
“Yes, it did, did it not? And I do not know why; I really do not.”
“That would not make me feel very good, frankly.”
“I am not exactly sure how I feel.”
They plodded along silently. The sun was setting, casting streaks of orange and gold across the dark blue waters. The boats were coming in for the night as the army descended a small hill overlooking the coast.
Another few minutes and the great structure of St. Austell came into view; lodged on a hill overlooking her domain, the castle was a red-stoned structure easily four times the size of Launceston. In fact, it was absolutely massive and the women stared at it in awe.
“Look at it, Ryan,” Lyla finally gasped. “Have you ever seen anything so enormous?”
Ryan shook her head, shocked to think she was to be chatelaine over the immense castle. It was dreamy, in fact, surrounded by lush trees and a moat that was more like a small lake. It was beautiful.
“Never,” she breathed.
“Are you frightened?”
“I should be, shouldn’t I?”
Lyla nodded. “I shall be frightened enough for the both of us, then. We are about to enter the enemy’s camp.”
They drew closer. Ryan noticed that although the castle was massive in scale, with a huge keep, drawbridge, portcullis and gatehouse, they were in a great state of disrepair. There were entire portions that were in pieces. Even as she watched, a small army of men was repairing the stone atop tall wooden scaffolds. It resembled a great hive with hundreds of busy worker bees swarming on it.
“Look at the carnage the earl has caused,” Lyla said, a reflection of awe in her tone.
Ryan nodded. “Father said the last battle did a great deal of damage.”
As the army neared the great red-stoned wall, now gleaming a fiery orange in the setting sun, a dozen soldiers thundered across the lowered drawbridge. It was a deafening roar and a great dust cloud flared in their wake as they approached the incoming St. Austell army. In the lead was a bulky knight clad in worn armor and he rode directly for Dennis.
Dennis greeted the knight and carried on a brief conversation. Ryan and Lyla watched curiously until they realized that the soldiers that had come from the keep were surrounding them and taking charge of the wagon that carried Ryan’s possessions. Most of the incoming St. Austell soldiers, with the exception of the knights riding with Dennis, broke into a trot and hurried for the keep, leaving Ryan, Lyla, and the soldiers carrying their canopy standing on the road.
Dennis continued to converse with the bulky knight, and Ryan was irritated that she and Lyla were made to wait outside of the castle walls as if they were beggars waiting for the privilege to enter. She was tired of riding, and was not particularly thrilled to be there. Sliding off her palfrey, she took Bute by his leash and wandered to the side of the road where she could watch the incoming boats in the harbor. She never heard Dennis approach until he was upon her.
“Lady d’Vant,” he addressed her formally. “I should like to introduce you to someone.”
Ryan turned around, facing Dennis who was still astride his silver charger, and the knight who had ridden out to greet them. Dennis dismounted and slapped his steed on the hindquarters, and the beast immediately galloped for the castle, like a dog running for home. Removing his helm, Dennis’ gray eyes glittered appreciatively at Ryan.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 129