by Alexa Aston
Michael stared at her from across the room.
Their eyes locked on one another. Everyone else faded from view. Elysande felt as if only the two of them stood at a great distance in the large space. She drank in his tall frame and remembered those muscled arms about her, holding her in an embrace as he kissed the life out of her. Elysande felt the hot flush creeping up her neck and spilling onto her cheeks. She turned away and headed to her right.
She must avoid Michael Devereux. At all costs.
If she didn’t, she might fracture into a thousand tiny pieces that could never be put back together again.
“There you are.”
Elysande turned and saw the overweight, red-faced Lord Holger approaching. She supposed he would lead her to her groom and see that they were properly reintroduced after so long a time apart.
Her stepfather took her elbow. “Come with me, child. We must speak of an important matter.”
Immediately, she sensed something was wrong. Holger’s voice had seemed almost tender. She hadn’t thought her stepfather had a compassionate bone in his thick body, but she knew by his tone that something was amiss.
The nobleman led her from the noise of the great hall to a small room down the corridor where his steward kept the estate’s ledgers. Holger ushered her inside and indicated that she should take a seat. Elysande did so, still worried about what he would reveal.
“I have some news for you. I’m not quite sure how you’ll react. Especially since your father put together the betrothal contract.”
He paused. She realized he was uncertain of how to break whatever news he had to tell her.
“I thought it would be better to have some privacy as I shared it with you.”
An awkward silence filled the room. Still, he hesitated.
“Please tell me, my lord. Whatever it is, I will handle this news. You may be blunt. I’m not a child that needs to be coddled.”
“So be it.” He took a deep breath and expelled it. “Your marriage will not take place as was planned.”
Elysande’s mouth fell open. “What? Why?” A tiny bit of hope filled her heart.
Had Michael spoken to Lord Holger? Had he asked that the betrothal contract be voided so they could wed instead?
Her stepfather placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid I must inform you that your betrothed . . . Hendry . . . has . . . died.”
Died?
She expelled a long breath, one she didn’t even know she had held. Hendry. Dead. Relief flooded her. She wouldn’t have to marry him tomorrow. She wouldn’t have to go north. She wouldn’t be forced to leave her mother and Avelyn.
And she was free—free so that Michael Devereux might press his suit.
The excitement she had pretended to feel now became real. Her heart beat quickly. She had to find Michael. She must tell him this news. She was no longer betrothed. She loved Michael. He loved her. She had to let him know. They could marry. They could be together. Forever. They could love long and well, just as Merryn and Geoffrey did.
Elysande came to her feet. She tried to tamp down the joy she felt. She knew it was her duty to first find Lord Ingram and offer him her condolences.
Then she would take Michael aside and share the wonderful news with him.
A strong knock sounded, startling her.
Lord Holger called out, “Come.”
Elysande was surprised when Lord Ingram entered the room. He closed the door behind him and came to stand next to her.
“Did you tell her about my son?”
Her heart skipped a beat as she stared up at Hendry’s father. The nobleman was still tall, but his hair had gone from the soft gray she remembered to a snowy white in the years since she’d seen him. His skin seemed more weathered, too. He gave her a grim smile, revealing yellowed teeth.
“Aye,” her stepfather said. “She took it well.”
“And the rest?” the nobleman asked, glancing back at Holger.
“Nay.”
Some undercurrent ran through their brief words. Elysande wondered at its meaning.
She decided to address Lord Ingram. “I am sorry for the loss of your son, my lord. I had looked forward to my marriage with Hendry. I hope he did not suffer much.” She hoped God would forgive her for such a small lie. She only wished to comfort Hendry’s father in his time of grief.
“He was a weakling,” bellowed Lord Ingram. “From the time he was expelled from his mother’s womb, the boy lacked strength and vigor.”
His words took her aback. It didn’t sound as if Lord Ingram mourned for his son at all. She felt sorry for Hendry in that moment. The boy had obviously never lived up to his father’s impossible expectations.
“I couldn’t get a healthy child from my wife. Neither boy nor girl.” His eyes gleamed as he studied at her. “But now ’twill be possible.”
She was totally confused. “Pardon, my lord? I’m not sure what you mean.”
Ingram placed his beefy hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “I’ll be your new groom, Lady Elysande.”
Marry Lord Ingram?
Panic swept through Elysande. “But . . . but what of Lady Gloriana, my lord? I cannot be the bride of a man who possesses another wife.”
The nobleman snorted in disgust. “Lady Gloriana is as dead as her son. It took long enough to be rid of her. She died the morning we left to come to Hopeston.” He chuckled. “’Tis what probably did Hendry in since he was always tied to the woman’s apron strings. The boy cried like a babe when I refused to delay our departure in order to attend his mother’s funeral mass that afternoon. Frankly, I am glad to be rid of the both of them.”
His words stunned her. What man would be so cruel as to speak of his wife and son in such a hateful manner? And to demand that his son accompany him immediately, when postponing their departure to Hopeston by a day could easily have assuaged Hendry’s grief and allowed him see his mother properly buried.
It was monstrous. He was monstrous.
Ingram’s fingers tightened on her shoulders as his eyes gleamed. “As soon as the contract can be satisfactorily arranged, you and I will wed, my lady. And I plan to get you with child as soon as I bed you. And keep you that way.” He grinned, his yellow teeth almost glowing. “We’ll have many babes together. And spend many nights making those babes.”
His touch sickened her. His words horrified her.
She pushed hard against his chest and stepped away, her entire body quaking in anger. “You, my lord, are the last man on earth that I would wish to wed. I would rather die an untouched virgin decades from now than be shackled to a man like you.”
Anger sparked in Lord Ingram’s eyes as he took a menacing step toward her. His hands shot out and grabbed her upper arms, the fingers so firmly holding her that she knew she’d have bruises there by morning.
He lowered his face till his nose almost touched hers. “Listen well, my lady. You are a woman, and you’ll have absolutely no say in the matter. Lord Holger and I will negotiate the contract in your absence.”
His fingers dug into her tender flesh. Elysande bit her lip to stifle from crying out in pain.
“I do not care what the contract calls for,” she boldly proclaimed. “I will never, ever marry the likes of you. You cannot force me to say the words.”
Lord Ingram looked startled for a moment before he began to chuckle ominously.
“Oh, I shall enjoy breaking your spirit, my dear—but it will be broken. ’Twill be up to you. You can be a docile wife and hold your tongue and do my bidding without question, or I will lock you in the solar and keep you tied naked to my bed while I ravish you over and over till you’ve lost your defiance and learn how to submit as a woman should.”
Lord Ingram glared at her. “The choice will be yours.”
Fear unlike any she’d ever known poured through Elysande at the thought of a future with this fiend. She glanced to Lord Holger, who stood with his arms crossed and a sour look upon his face.
With a surge of strength she didn’t know she possessed, Elysande broke away from Lord Ingram’s grasp and ran from the room. She rounded a corner and hit a wall. No, not a wall—Michael.
His large frame loomed next to her. Those piercing blue eyes dug into the depths of her soul as his hands steadied her.
“Nay!” Elysande slammed her hands into his chest and pushed him away. She gathered her skirts and took off again, running down the corridor and out the doors of the keep.
*
Following Elysande, Michael’s long strides were full of purpose. He’d been standing with Lord Geoffrey and Lady Mary when the wedding party from the north arrived. Lord Ingram barreled through the great hall as if he owned the place. Michael knew of the nobleman by reputation alone and it had done the man justice.
Michael had been in a foul mood for two days since he’d abandoned Elysande in the stables after they’d kissed. He’d used poor judgment succumbing to her kiss, but he wouldn’t have changed a moment of their encounter. She was everything he imagined he could ever want in a wife. Her beauty, now fresh and lovely, would only see her age gracefully. She would grow more beautiful in a score than she was now.
But he found her heart and mind to be what attracted him even more than her comely looks. Elysande was intelligent and caring. Nurturing. Playful. Determined and strong.
And he had lost her as quickly as he’d found her.
That was why he’d stormed from the stables after drinking in her sweet kisses. Oh, how he longed to make her his. Hear her cry out his name in ecstasy as he made love to her. Wake beside her every morning, knowing they faced the new day together.
Her betrothal and upcoming marriage stood between them, though. Michael would never dishonor her or his vows as a knight—though he wanted to plunge his shaft into her and plant his seed deep within her belly.
There could never be anything between them, for she would be married to another in the blink of an eye.
Lord Ingram’s arrival changed all of that. Without preface, the brash nobleman bluntly informed Lady Mary that his son had died while they’d traveled on the road to Hopeston. Michael thought he saw a bit of relief in her eyes. She had motioned her husband over and shared the news with him.
Learning of Hendry’s sudden death gave Michael hope. He’d turned to Lord Geoffrey, who gave him an encouraging smile. He realized that somehow his liege lord had learned of his feelings for his niece. It could only be Lady Merryn’s doing. She was astute beyond measure—and he’d seen her huddled with Elysande several times in the last two days. Either Merryn had guessed the truth or Elysande had confided in her aunt of the feelings between them—and Merryn had shared that with her husband.
“You would make a fine husband to my niece,” Geoffrey said, his voice low.
But before Michael could reply, he overheard the words that stunned him.
“I plan to wed Lady Elysande in my son’s place,” Lord Ingram proclaimed to Lady Mary and Lord Holger. “I came this far for a wedding. Might as well be my own so I didn’t waste time on this trip.”
A gleam came into Holger’s eyes. Michael knew the man would not only approve of getting Elysande off his hands, but his greed would cause him to hold out for more now that a new betrothal contract would need to be drawn up.
“Let me find my stepdaughter,” Holger said. “I’ll share with her that her groom has passed on. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to make a new match with you, Lord Ingram. For the right bridal price, of course,” he added.
Michael looked wildly about the great hall and spied Elysande entering. He ached at how lovely and vulnerable she looked. He wished to go to her, but she quickly turned and skirted the room, moving away from him. He’d watched Holger approach her and then remove her from the room.
He found a hand on his arm, restraining him.
“Michael. Hold fast,” Geoffrey warned. “No contracts have been signed. I’ll speak with Lord Holger after he’s broken the news of Hendry’s death to Elysande and put your name forth as a suitor. I’m sure the man will drive a hard bargain, but I’m certain that the future Earl of Sandbourne would prove a most worthy candidate.”
He nodded, taking in Geoffrey’s words. Michael never acted rashly. He would remain calm and bide his time.
Until he saw Lord Ingram leave the great hall. Michael’s gut told him that the nobleman went to find Holger and Elysande and demand that they draw up the contracts at once. Michael didn’t know how long he could wait. He couldn’t chance missing out on this opportunity. He turned and saw Geoffrey nodded at him. At once, he exited the great hall, looking for where the trio could be.
As he searched, Elysande appeared, the color drained from her face. She ran smack into him and Michael grabbed her to hold her steady. She pushed him away and fled.
And now he was determined to find her.
Michael kept Elysande in sight as she ran wildly. He knew, even before she probably did, that she headed to the stables. To her beloved horses. She understood them. Had an affinity for them. She would turn to them in her time of need.
He couldn’t imagine what her reaction had been when she was told her dead groom was to be replaced by his father. Lord Ingram was a cruel man. Michael couldn’t imagine Elysande by his side—much less in his bed. The thought had hot fury coursing through him and he increased his stride. He reached the stables only moments after he saw her duck inside. He nodded to a groom he passed.
She had to be with Morningstar and Happy. He walked the length of the stable, making the appropriate turns till he came to the enlarged stall. Mother and foal still resided there. Happy nursed away as Morningstar stood patiently. Elysande had her arms wrapped about the dam’s neck. She’d buried her face in the horse’s mane. Muffled sobs came from her.
Without a word, Michael went to her and captured her small waist in his hands, pulling her away from the horse. She twisted around and caught sight of him. Something garbled came from her lips, then she collapsed against him, her hands clenching his tunic.
Michael moved to the corner of the stable. When his back touched the wall, he slid down it into the soft hay, bringing Elysande with him. He cradled her trembling body in his arms, his lips brushing against her hair. He let her cry until she was spent.
When she fell silent, he lifted her chin with a finger. Those large, amethyst eyes hypnotized him, holding him captive for a moment. He’d never seen such an unusual color. He’d never held such a beautiful woman, both inside and out, within in his arms.
Instinctively, his mouth sought hers. Her soft lips, warm and pliable, opened to him. Michael thrust his tongue inside, tasting the sweetness that he associated with this woman. Sparks ignited as their tongues mated, two souls who had connected. He drank her in, again and again, his pulse pounding louder than he thought possible. His arms tightened about her, bringing her close. His hands roamed her back and rose to plunge into her hair, loosening her braids. The long tresses spilled about her shoulders. Their silky feel rivaled the smoothness of her skin.
He wanted her naked—now, beneath him—their flesh hot against one other.
But now was not the time.
Slowly, he pulled his head away. Their mouths parted. Both panted. He leaned back into her, his forehead resting against hers.
“Michael.”
Her whispered word brought chills. This was the woman he was meant to be with for all time. He would do whatever it took to claim her.
“Elysande.” He loved her name. Loved saying it to her face. Loved everything about her. ’Twas true what the old wives said. Love arrived like a thief in the night and changed everything as a quick strike of lightning might. Michael hadn’t known this woman a week ago. He could easily spend a lifetime learning everything about her.
“Hendry’s dead.”
“I know.”
She started. “You do?” Then her eyes turned downward. Long, dark lashes fell against her cheek. He leaned in and kissed each eyelid and thrilled at hearing her sigh of
contentment.
“And Lord Ingram offered for you.”
Elysande’s head shot up. “You know that, too?”
He nodded. “I heard him tell your mother and Lord Holger that he wished to wed you.”
The glum look returned to her face. “They are now engaged in hammering out the contracts so that we can be wed as soon as possible.”
“Not if I have anything to say in the matter.”
She cupped his cheek. “Oh, Michael. Lord Ingram is a powerful man. For me to marry someone so wealthy? It would be a very good match. I can’t see Lord Holger putting up much resistance. Lord Ingram is a very persuasive man.”
Michael put a hand over hers, hating the defeated look in her eyes. “I can also be quite convincing, Elysande. I may not seem powerful to you, but one day I will be when I come into my title.”
Her brows knitted together. “What do you mean, your title?”
“I’m the only son of the Earl of Sandbourne,” he revealed, “though we are estranged. I haven’t returned home in fifteen years, but I’ll become the earl upon my father’s death. I plan to approach Lord Holger and your mother and plead my case. Lord Geoffrey has assured me he, too, will put in a good word on my behalf. One day I’ll own more land and gain access to wealth that rivals even Lord Ingram’s.”
“Oh, Michael!” Elysande kissed him with enthusiasm, her breasts pressing against his chest. He longed to worship each of them in good time.
He took her wrists and gently tugged her away. “Come. We need to return to the keep. I don’t want Lord Ingram gaining any ground in his pursuit of you.” He reached over and pulled straw from her unbound hair.
Elysande gave him a bright smile. “And to think I fell in love with mere Sir Michael Devereux.”
Chapter 8
Elysande floated back to the great hall, her hand in the crook of Michael’s arm. Just touching him brought about a strength and resolve she’d never had before. She felt like a princess, chosen by the most handsome prince in all of Christendom. In the blink of an eye, her fate had changed—thanks to the death of her betrothed and Michael wanting to court her and make her his wife.