by Byrne, Julia
She smiled, too, but fleetingly. “A good thing I escaped the King’s attentions, then. ’Twas when Edward was visiting my uncle. He did try to force such a bargain from me, and when I refused he became angry and tried to use force of another kind, until I shamed him by pointing out how spoilt he was, that because women never refused him he thought he could even rape a thirteen-year-old girl with impunity. Only then did he step back from me. Mayhap he hadn’t realized how young I was, but he did stop, and then he stalked out of the room.
“I was so angry, so…distressed that a king would behave so, that I went straight up to my aunt’s chamber and took back the crucifix. Then I marched through the hall in full view of everyone and made a hiding place for it in the stable.”
“That’s why you were out there the other night?”
“Aye. If I’d stopped to think about it, I probably wouldn’t have succeeded in taking the crucifix, but no one noticed anything amiss. They were too drunk, as usual, and Aunt Maud never wore it. She just took it from me for spite.”
“But she might have noticed its disappearance any time these past three years, which means you’ve lived with the risk of discovery as well as everything else. Because you made a vow.”
She made a small gesture of assent, but when she would have turned away at the finality in his voice, he reached for her and drew her close again.
“Nell,” was all he said, but in the murmured sound of her name she heard regret and understanding, and something else she didn’t recognize.
He held her like that for a heartbeat of silence. She felt his lips brush her hair before he released her and stepped back.
“We have to reach Wells before dark,” he said. “I’ll get the horses.”
She watched him turn away, then bent her head and finished lacing her gown. She shouldn’t feel so lost and desolate because Rafe hadn’t said anything about the future. He might regret making love to her, but why would he feel anything else? After all, she didn’t expect him to.
But she did! Merciful saints, deep down inside, she did! Despite everything she’d told herself—that she knew he didn’t love her, that she only wanted one moment out of time with him—she hadn’t expected his indifference to hurt so much. In her innocence she hadn’t known how much more devastating ’twould be to see him walk away after being so close to him.
He led the horses over to her and she carefully kept her expression blank. It took a considerable effort and, for the first time, she was grateful for the years spent learning to hide her true feelings. Not that she felt shamed by what had happened. She didn’t intend to marry the man her father had chosen for her, or anyone else come to that, so the loss of her virginity wasn’t important.
“Come, princess, up with you.”
The command broke through her thoughts. She looked up to find herself confronted by Samson’s solid bulk. Rafe lifted her into the saddle and mounted behind her before she could question the arrangement. She looked back as he nudged Samson into a walk to see Rufus following on a makeshift leading rein.
“Why am I not riding Rufus?” she asked, glancing up at him.
“This will be more comfortable for you than riding astride, sweetheart.” He bent to brush his mouth across her cheek. “Are you very sore?”
Nell blushed bright pink all the way to her toes. She jerked around to face the front. Holy saints, she had blushed more during the past hour than in her entire life. If only Rafe would not ask such embarrassingly intimate questions.
Then she remembered the heart-shaking intimacy that led to the question, and her control tottered as an echo of sensual pleasure hummed through her.
“Nay,” she managed in a hopelessly breathless voice. “I told you…you didn’t hurt me.”
His arms tightened around her and he settled her more closely against him. “’Twill be better for you next time, Nell. I promise you. Much better.”
Her eyes widened. There was better than that sweet, melting, utterly thrilling—
“What…what shall we do when we get to Wells?” she stammered, forcing her mind to the reason she wanted to go there. “You said something, last night, about the Bishop’s palace.”
“We’ll find accommodation for the night in the guest dorter and I’ll arrange for you to visit your mother’s tomb in the morning.”
“Thank you,” she said, truly grateful. A measure of composure returned and she lay her hand protectively over the crucifix beneath her bodice. “I wish I didn’t have to part with this. ’Tis all I have left of my mother, and, though as I grew older, I thought her weak for loving my father so blindly, she loved me also, and I her.”
“Is that why you set your face against marriage, Nell? Because of your parents.”
“Aye. And what I saw at Langley.”
“I can hardly wonder at that. But don’t fret, princess. You’re far from weak, and if that taste of you I had was any example, I’ll never give you cause for tears because I’ve gone to another woman.”
She hadn’t heard aright. Either that, or she’d left her wits back there at those rocks.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked in a very polite voice.
“We’re getting married,” he said calmly. “In fact, before we worry about accommodations or anything else, we’re going to hunt up the Bishop or one of his priests and have our betrothal vows witnessed.”
The only thing she could think of to say to that pronouncement was that he hadn’t asked her to marry him. Which was so absurd she dismissed it immediately.
“Why?” she finally managed.
He went still for a fleeting second, then relaxed again. “The usual reasons. I’ve been considering marriage for some time. Every man needs sons, and they need their mother to be honorable and strong as well as their sire. You are that, Nell. ’Tis a rare quality in a woman and one I value.”
His words made her heart melt, but some perverse demon was driving her, making her probe his reasons for marrying her.
“I don’t know your situation,” she said, choosing her words with care. “But I am an heiress. My father may well object, since he has already chosen a husband for me. If I disobey him you could find yourself taking a pauper to wife.”
“Don’t concern yourself with that,” he said curtly. “I’ll handle your father. In any event, I’m not in need of a wealthy wife.”
While she was pondering that, he added, “You needn’t think up any more objections. We’re getting married.”
“Are we?”
“We are. Make up your mind to it, princess. Apart from any other cause, I could have got you with child. ’Tis reason enough.”
And a reason she hadn’t considered. Her hand went to her stomach in wonder at the thought of a small being within. Rafe’s child. Her baby. Part of them both.
It was no less prosaic a reason for marriage than the others, but did it matter? She knew her hesitation was caused by the last remnants of her distrust of men, her fear of being vulnerable, of becoming a man’s property. But this was Rafe. Hadn’t she already realized that one of them would have to trust blindly?
Aye, and like her mother before her, like most women, she would take that risk for love. Mayhap, one day in the future, Rafe might learn to trust her also. Even…one day…if she loved enough, he might love her in return.
“All right,” she said at last. “I’ll marry you.”
“My thanks,” he returned dryly. When she giggled, he bent to nuzzle her hair and she felt his lips, warm and seductive, on her throat.
“Don’t be afraid of me, sweeting. I know you felt pleasure before, but ’twas only a ripple compared to the pleasure you gave me. I couldn’t even—” He lifted his head, puzzlement clear in his voice. “I’ve never lost control like that with a woman. Holy saints, we were still clothed. I barely touched you, barely took enough time to prepare you—”
He took a deep breath and held her hard against him for a moment. “’Twill not be like that again.”
“You knew I fel
t pleasure?” she asked weakly.
He laughed softly and stroked a finger down her cheek. “I felt it, too,” he murmured wickedly. “And I can’t wait to feel you around me again.”
Everything inside her went warm and soft. ’Twas a wonder she didn’t fall right off the horse. ’Twould be safer to remain silent until she was no longer sharing a saddle with her betrothed. Otherwise, if the conversation continued on its deliciously dangerous path, Rafe would also feel the half-nervous, wholly-thrilling shivers of anticipation coursing through her.
But when his lips touched her hair, she nestled closer within the circle of his arms and laid her head on his shoulder, and, for the first time in ten years, allowed a warm little glow of hope and tentative happiness to light the depths of her heart.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Late the following morning, Nell stood in the graveyard beside the cathedral at Wells, blinking a little after the taper-lit gloom of the vault where her maternal ancestors lay at eternal rest. She wondered what Rafe was doing.
Since their arrival in Wells the previous evening, and the exchange of betrothal vows, they had spent little time together. While Rafe was closeted with the Bishop, regaling that shocked cleric with the tale of her treatment at the hands of her family, she had been shown to a guest-chamber where a girl fetched from the town waited on her. Then, after a meal and a blissful soak in a tub of hot water, she’d had only enough energy left to tumble into bed.
She slept the sleep of the exhausted, not stirring until her maid knocked on the door with the news that Father Simeon, the priest assigned to escort her, was waiting in the ante-chamber and would be at her disposal all morning.
The good father turned out to be an elderly, plump individual, whose greying tonsure and faded blue eyes belied a sprightly nature. He heard her confession—couched in vague terms; pronounced a penance—negligible; and accompanied her to Mass in the cathedral. He had also been of considerable help in other ways.
Nell turned on the thought as the clunk of the vault’s lock sounded behind her. Father Simeon met her gaze with a smile.
“Is there anywhere else I may escort you, lady?” he enquired politely. “A walk in the cloisters before dinner, mayhap? Or, if you prefer a moment of prayer now your task is done, the Lady Chapel is quiet at this time of day.”
“Thank you, Father.” Her answering smile held true gratitude. “I fear I have kept you from your duties overlong, but I could not have managed without you. You have my heartfelt thanks, especially for your kindness in finding that little casket in which my mother’s crucifix could be sealed.”
“’Twas a small enough service, dear lady,” Father Simeon demurred.
She shook her head. “’Twas more than that. I confess I was not looking forward to the prospect of having the tomb opened.”
“Departed souls deserve their privacy,” agreed Father Simeon. “And your lady mother will surely rest easier now her final wish has been granted.”
“I’m glad ’tis done,” she sighed. “I thought I would miss having something of hers, but now ’tis gone I feel relief.”
The priest nodded. “’Twas not an easy task to lay on a small child. And now…” He paused, enquiring again.
“And now I may sit here awhile, if ’tis allowed. The morning is fine and—” She colored slightly. “My lord will know where to find me.”
“Ah.” Father Simeon smiled with cheerful understanding. “And ’tis not my company you’ll be wanting when he does,” he said, a most unpriestly twinkle in his blue eyes. “So I shall hie myself off to the meeting in the chapter-house. God bless you, dear child.”
“Thank you again, Father.” She watched as the little priest hurried across the grass toward the imposing bulk of the cathedral.
He turned to wave before he vanished through a doorway and she waved back, feeling more at peace than she had in years. And with the peace was a growing sense of anticipation. For the first time the future held promise. She couldn’t wait for it to begin.
Suddenly restless, she walked across the graveyard and around to the west front of the cathedral. Here, carved in tier upon tier on the façade of the building, were statues of the saints, fashioned with painstaking diligence and detail. Here also, she could watch for Rafe while affecting a fascinated interest in the statuary above her. He had said he would see her on the morrow and the day was nearly half done. Surely he would be here soon.
She glanced down at herself with purely feminine concern. Her hair was in neat braids but bare of any headdress to lend elegance to her appearance. She still wore the red gown and moss-green surcoat. They had been brushed, and her shift and hose laundered, but the outer garments were still travel-stained. As for her shoes…
She lifted the hem of her skirts and contemplated the tips of her toes peeping out from her decapitated footwear. The interlude by the stream seemed to have happened a very long time ago.
“Something amiss with your shoes, princess?”
Nell yelped and almost leapt into the air. She whirled around to find Rafe grinning at her—and forgot about scolding him for creeping up on her again.
Somehow his height and powerful build always managed to take her breath away. He was wearing his black surcoat again. The somber color should have made him appear unobtrusive, but the stark severity of the garment emphasized the leashed strength beneath it. And now, in full daylight, she could see the subtle gleam of fine gold thread on cuffs and collar, and outlining the white rose badge.
Like her, he was bare-headed, his midnight-dark hair ruffled by the breeze. The strong, masculine contours of cheeks and jaw were more starkly revealed with the disappearance of several days’ growth of beard, the outline of his mouth both clean and sensual. The scar at his temple made him look hard and dangerous, but in his golden eyes she saw memories that sent little darts of fire winging through her body.
“You will have to stop doing that,” she said weakly.
His smile was slow and infinitely wicked. “What’s that? Wanting you?”
“Nay,” she said, suppressing a blush. “Creeping up on me. If you intend to make a practice of it, my nerves will be shattered before the year is out.”
Or a lot sooner if he didn’t stop looking at her as if he was about to lie her down on the grass and—
“Well, at least you weren’t talking to yourself, princess. That’s a start.” His smile flashed again before he shifted his gaze to the cathedral. “I thought I’d find you inside, studying the more humorous carvings, rather than contemplating these saintly figures.”
“I saw them many times as a child. My favorite was the carving of two dragons biting each other’s tails. But, best of all, my mother would bring me here to watch the clock strike the hour. I would wait and wait, it seemed like forever, and at last the four knights would come charging out to knock each other off their horses. I never tired of it.”
“So that’s what you were waiting for.”
She gave him a demure smile. “Isn’t it amazing that a clock made more than a hundred years ago can show the phases of the moon as well as days and hours and minutes?” she observed chattily.
“Amazing.” The lines of amusement deepened around his eyes. “And if you will accept my escort, lady, we may go and marvel at such a wondrous invention.”
Nell regarded him with suspicion. “Are you laughing at me?”
He came closer, took her hand, and tucked it into the curve of his arm. “Considering where we are, it seems safer than kissing you,” he said softly as they began to stroll toward the cathedral entrance.
“My lord! You should not speak so. We are in a church.”
“Not quite, but you’re right about one thing. ’Tis far too public a place for what I have in mind. Next time I kiss you, sweetheart, I intend to make sure we won’t be interrupted for a long time.” His voice lowered and went dark. “A very long time.”
She had been right that first night, Nell thought. Lord Rafael Beaudene was a dangerous man
. She just hadn’t known in what way until it was too late.
“I must thank you, my lord,” she began, determined to put a stop to his nerve-racking style of conversation before he discovered how vulnerable she was where he was concerned. She wanted his trust and love before that happened. “’Twas kind of you to arrange for Father Simeon to accompany me this morning.”
He paused inside one of the entrance arches and looked down at her. “I thought you would rather have a priest with you.”
“Aye.” She smiled and began to relax.
“So, sweeting, now that your vow is fulfilled, do you think you might trust me enough to tell me the true reason your mother was insistent on taking that crucifix with her to the grave?”
“What?” Her brain froze.
“Did she never tell you? Did you not investigate?”
“In…Investigate?”
He glanced quickly around, before framing her face between his hands. “We’re lovers,” he urged gently. “I’m going to be your husband. Trust me with this.”
Heaven help her, she had to trust him. There was no choice. She had to trust, and by doing so hope to gain his trust in return. Besides, she knew very little, could only speculate.
“I don’t know what you mean by investigate,” she said slowly. “I was a child when the crucifix was given to me, and all I remember is my mother telling me it must never fall into the wrong hands. I thought she meant my aunt, but when I grew older I wondered if, mayhap, it held something. The cross, itself, was…different.”
“Go on.”
“That’s all. I didn’t want to see if it opened. Not that I had time to search for a hidden latch or clasp, but it didn’t matter. If it held a secret I thought ’twas probably because my father had behaved dishonorably, which seemed all too likely from what I knew of him, and I didn’t want to know about it. I would not have agreed with my mother’s desire to shield him, but I had promised her.”