“Which is?” Botolf prompted when Hunter hesitated.
“Is your first wife fully dead to you, m’lord?”
“She was dead to me months before she went to her grave. There will be no ghosts in my marriage bed.”
Saxan eyed her brothers warily as they entered her bedchamber and dismissed Jane. She knew they intended to have a serious discussion with her; she could see it in their faces. If they only wanted to tell her they agreed with the earl’s wish that she train with his mother, they would not require privacy nor look so solemn.
“What sin are you about to lecture me on?” she asked with a stab at levity as Roc and Hunter sat on her bed and looked at her.
“None, loving, although ’twas madness to try and kill the earl,” Hunter replied.
“I believe I was in the grip of madness at the time. When I thought Pitney was dead, my grief turned my mind.”
“That I can understand.” Hunter took a deep breath then blurted out, “The earl has asked for your hand in marriage.”
Although she opened her mouth, Saxan could not utter a word. She was too stunned. Botolf wanting to wed her was not a possibility she had considered. For one brief instant, her heart soared, but then it jerked back into place. Now she began to understand his actions since their violent meeting at the Boar’s Head Inn. She wondered exactly when he had begun to plan it.
“Why?” she asked hoarsely.
Hunter took her hand between his. “The earl did not speak of love, but what he did say makes me believe he will be a good husband. The match is to be envied.”
Suddenly, Saxan recalled the conversation she and Botolf had had earlier beneath the tree in town and sighed. “He wants sons.”
“Aye,” Hunter admitted reluctantly. “The Lavington line is dying out.”
“Are you certain?”
“Very certain. Botolf will not hold it to be your fault if you bear him no sons. If that happens, he says it will be the will of God. Howbeit, he recognizes that few other women hold the promise of bearing him a fine brood as you do.”
“You cannot fault the man for thinking of children, Saxan,” Roc said. “ ’Tis most often the reason a man marries.”
“I know that,” she said. “ ’Tis just hard when it is yourself who is being viewed as the brood mare.”
“Would it be hard for you to bed down with him?” Hunter asked.
Color flooded Saxan’s cheeks as she shook her head. “Nay. In truth, ’tis Botolf who has restraint. I have none.”
Hunter laughed, pulling a reluctant grin from Saxan. “Restraint in such a matter has never come easily to a Todd.” He grew serious again. “What are your feelings for the man, dearling?”
“I fear I cannot say for certain. From the moment I ceased to wish him dead, he has been a great puzzle to me. He can make me angry, yet—” She blushed. “—when he holds me, I have no wish to push him away. Strangely, it seems right to allow him to have his way.”
“But you do not love him?” Roc asked.
“I dare not say that I do,” Saxan replied, nervously twisting her braid in her hands. “I am not sure. I desire him; I trust him; I fear for his safety, and I enjoy his company.”
“It sounds much akin to love to me.”
“Mayhap, Roc, but those are words one should be very sure of before one utters them.”
“Saxan, the king has heartily approved this match,” Hunter said.
“Heartily, is it? Then ’tis set.” She was angry that she was clearly the last one to be consulted.
“It could be, but the earl wishes everyone to be in agreement, as do we.”
“I am not in disagreement. Do I have time to think about this?”
“Aye, loving.” Hunter stood up and kissed her cheek, and Roc followed suit. “I will not press you.”
“But?” she murmured, hearing his hesitation.
Sighing, Hunter added, “Aye—but. I think you can guess the reasons for that but. The earl will be a faithful husband.”
“Did he say that?” That was a promise Saxan knew was rarely given, for many men felt it was their right to bed any woman, where and when they pleased, despite their marital status.
“Aye, he believes in the vows exchanged. Think on that as well,” he urged her, then left to find the earl, Roc at his heels.
Botolf led his mother to the front hall, growing more perturbed each step of the way. He wondered what imp of misfortune had decided he needed the complication of Lady Odella and her entourage now. Since Hunter had told him that Saxan had said she would consider his proposal, Botolf had planned to spend the afternoon preparing for her answer. Instead, there was Lady Odella acting as if she had a reason to expect a warm welcome. He was in no mood to give her one, although, as he reached the bottom of the stairs and Odella rushed into his arms, he tried to keep a firm hold on his good manners. Offending the woman would only cause a trouble he did not need.
“We had not expected you, Lady Odella,” Botolf said politely as he extracted himself from her hold.
“Oh, but I was certain all was settled with your lady mother when we last spoke,” Odella said.
Lady Mary flushed when Botolf looked at her. He knew his mother had not made any definite invitation, but that courtesy prevented her from saying so. With a forced smile, Lady Mary deftly eluded Botolf as she conveyed Lady Odella and her father to their chambers. Botolf was determined that it would prove only a temporary reprieve for his mother.
When Hunter and Roc walked up to him, Botolf tensed. The very last thing he needed now was Saxan’s protective kinsmen thinking he was playing some game with her. He turned to explain Odella then saw the humor lighting their eyes.
“I envy you not, m’lord,” drawled Hunter. “ ’Tis dangerous to be caught between two women—one pondering an answer and the other pressing hard for the question.”
“I can see how deeply you sympathize,” Botolf murmured then joined the brothers in laughter. He could see the humor in his situation despite the trouble it could cause him, a trouble that would undoubtedly begin as soon as everyone gathered in the great hall.
Saxan studied her appearance one more time before making her way to the great hall. She prayed no one would press her for an answer to Botolf’s proposal for, despite having considered it for several hours, she was still uncertain. Her own feelings remained a puzzle to her, Hotolf’s even more so. A large part of her was more than willing to become his wife, but her doubts stopped her from immediately agreeing to the marriage. She wished she did not have the knowledge that her decision was not really necessary in the end. It ended the delusion that she had some choice in the matter.
She slipped into Pitney’s room. It delighted her to see him on his feet although his walking was confined to a small area and he needed someone to help him. The page assisted him back into his bed and left discreetly.
“You will soon join us in the great hall,” she said as soon as they were alone.
“I mean to be on my feet for your wedding,” he said, watching her closely as he got more comfortable in his bed.
“Ah, so Hunter has spoken to you. I had thought to surprise you.”
“I am glad that he did tell me, for I had begun to fear that the earl sought no more than a tussle in the grass.”
“He always pulls away before that can happen.”
Pitney chuckled. “You sound disappointed, even offended.”
“ ’Tis shameless, I know. Still, I cannot deny that the earl could have me if he but crooked his elegant fmger.”
“Then, mayhap, dear sister, you had best marry the man. Then he may crook his elegant finger all he wishes and you need not sin to answer the call,” Pitney suggested baldly.
“There is that to consider.” She exchanged a sly grin with him, but then sighed, somber once again. “ ’Twould be nice if love were involved. In truth, I can foresee that I could love him, may do so e’en now but simply do not know it. Howbeit, I have no idea of his feelings for me.”
&n
bsp; “And you may never get one. Not all men can speak their heart. You must consider the fact that he has chosen you. Consider all he has to choose from. That he has asked for your hand is the highest flattery.”
“True, but,” she sighed, “he wants sons and ours is a fruitful lot.” She moved to the door. “You are right, though, I will think on how easy it would be for him to possess me and what a high honor he does me by asking for my hand in marriage. Neither should be shrugged aside. Keep walking, Pitney, for I believe there will be a wedding soon.” She paused in the doorway and sighed again. “The more I consider it, the more I realize that saying nay will trouble me far more than saying aye—despite all my doubts.”
Now that the lovely Lady Odella had arrived, Botolf feared he was about to hear a resounding no from Saxan. Odella’s pursuit had been tolerable when he had still been in the market for a wife. Now her pursuit would only cause problems. He walked into his mother’s bedchamber and glared at her, knowing it was not truly her fault, but needing to blame someone.
Lady Mary took one look at her son’s dark expression and said, “I did not invite that woman. Truly, I did not. I was most vague when she pressed me.”
“Clearly you were not vague enough.” He paced the room, animated by frustration. “ ’Tis my fault as well. I did not turn her aside, but allowed her to ply her wiles. I knew I must soon find a wife and she was not an intolerable choice.”
“Then ’tis not such a dire matter that she has arrived.”
“ ’Tis a disaster. Mother, I have chosen a wife. I but await her acceptance.”
“Saxan Todd,” she guessed in an instant, her eyes wide.
“Aye, Saxan Todd.” He sighed with relief when he saw no sign of distress or distaste on her face.
“What do you mean you await her acceptance? Her brother cannot disapprove of the match, can he?”
“Nay. He has agreed. E’en the king agrees, most heartily. I cannot help but wonder if he would have made the same choice had I left it to him.”
“Then we must begin to plan the wedding.”
“It might be wise to begin, but quietly.” He eyed her sheepishly. “I could force the marriage, but I want Saxan to accept my offer on her own. I want to know that she wants me as her husband.”
“That is not foolish, dear. Do you fear that Lady Odella’s presence will cause some difficulty?”
“Aye. As Hunter said, I am now caught between a woman who ponders her answer and one who presses me for the question.”
Lady Mary made a face. “A precarious place to be.”
“Aye. I cannot say I am betrothed to divert Lady Odella, yet cannot honestly tell Saxan that I gave Odella no hope. After all, I let her play her games and now I cannot be rude to the woman. I wish her pursuit of me to end, but I have no wish to offend her.”
The urge to offend took shape, however, but moments after he led his mother into the great hall. Odella took her place at his side and would not be dislodged when Saxan arrived. Botolf had never noticed before how tenacious the woman could be. He did not know how it could have happened, but he got the strong impression that Odella knew of his decision to marry Saxan. The way Saxan’s small face grew tighter, her expression more closed, told him that Odella was waging a game and scoring points.
Saxan told herself sternly not to be foolish. She could see with her own eyes that Botolf was being no more than courteous to Lady Odella, but her emotions were not as reasonable as her observations. Her feelings saw only the way Lady Odella clung to Botolf, kept her shapely body between her and Botolf, and flirted outrageously with the man. She had a strong urge to break every one of the woman’s dainty fingers, which kept touching Botolf. She grew tired of the way the woman talked to Botolf as if she and the earl were close and had been so for a very long time.
When Saxan went to bed, she tried to review her feelings clearly and with no bias. She began to think that she was suffering from a severe bout of jealousy. That hinted that her feelings for Botolf ran far deeper than she had guessed. A person had to care about someone to succumb to jealousy. Saxan had never been overpowered by possessiveness before.
Sighing heavily, she admitted that the desire to be Botolf’s wife was too strong to ignore. Neither doubts nor uncertainty nor jealousy could make her say a firm no. On the morrow she would tell Botolf that she accepted his proposal of marriage.
As she settled down to sleep, she mused crossly that she might encounter some difficulty finding a moment alone with the man.
Seven
Saxan grumbled to herself as she sat down on a low crumbling wall in Lady Mary’s gardens. For two long days she had not been able to get any time alone with Botolf. She could not help but wonder if she had been wrong to believe he was simply being courteous to Lady Odella. The shapely blond was extremely lovely. Botolf could easily be enjoying all the attention the woman was lavishing on him.
She stiffened as she heard voices drawing nearer to her. The urge to scream nearly overwhelmed her when she recognized the voices as Botolf’s and the tenacious Odella’s. Worse, she had no way to escape. If the pair carried on in a manner they wished to be kept private only to discover her, they could easily think she had been spying on them. Saxan hated the thought of that as much as she did the idea of the two of them behaving like lovers in the moonlit gardens. She was intensely relieved when they kept walking until they reached her.
“So, here you are, Saxan,” Botolf said. “I wondered where you had fled.”
The look that flitted over Lady Odella’s face almost made Saxan laugh. She knew Botolf had not intended it to sound as if he had taken a walk in the gardens just to look for her, but Odella clearly felt that he meant that. It was easy to see that the woman’s vanity was badly stung.
“I often take a walk here,” Saxan replied, frowning when she heard other voices drawing near. “It has ne’er been this crowded.”
Hunter and Roc smiled in greeting as they ambled over. Saxan saw the way they glanced at Lady Odella, who was firmly attached to Botolf’s side. She had tried to look unaffected by the woman’s constant presence, but would not be surprised to discover her brothers had guessed that she was upset. She hoped they would devise some way to loosen the woman’s grip on Botolf. It was past time she had a moment with the earl without Odella intruding.
Glancing at the three Todds, Odella murmured, “ ’Tis far colder than I had realized, Botolf. Shall we walk back to the great hall?” She turned, tugging on Botolf’s arm.
“I find it to be quite a pleasant night.” Botolf stood firm, neatly extricating himself from her grip.
“Ah, then allow us to escort you, m’lady,” said Hunter as he took Odella by the arm while Roc quickly put himself between Botolf and the woman. “My brother and I have also enjoyed as much of the night air as we care to and plan to return to the hall. Your beautiful presence will lighten our way.”
“Are you remaining here, Botolf?” Odella asked even as her escorts began to lead her away.
“Aye, for a while,” he replied.
Hunter glanced back over his shoulder and said pointedly, “We will see you soon, though.”
Botolf laughed softly and sat down next to Saxan. He could sense her reticence, but felt certain he could cure her of that. Only part of his attention and a great deal of his time had been stolen away by the determined Odella. That could be easily atoned for.
“It has been a long while since we have talked,” he said.
“I have been near at hand, m’lord,” she murmured.
“Aye and so has Lady Odella.”
Saxan looked at him and said carefully, “She seems to believe she has a right.”
“I fear I cannot say that I gave her no reason to think that. Before now there was no cause to push her away or stop her games.”
“And ’tis only her game?”
“Only hers. As I said, there was no reason to rebuff her.” He took Saxan’s hand, pressed a soft kiss to her palm, and said, “Now, if I were betrot
hed, I could simply tell Odella so and end this foolishness without causing offense.”
Saxan stared at their joined hands. “Are you certain that is what you wish to do?” she asked.
“Very certain. I have thought about little else since I first set eyes on you.”
The way he moved his thumb over the back of her hand sent delightful chills along her arm, but she retained enough wit to say, “You want sons.”
He edged closer to her, lightly caressing the side of her neck with his other hand. “What man does not? I also wish to enjoy the making of those sons,” he said, his words husky with longing. “I do not need to tell you that I would enjoy the bedding of you.” He smiled when she blushed and lightly kissed her cheek. “You know that I desire you.”
“Ah, but desire can be a fleeting thing, burning sweet and hot for a time, then turning to ashes.”
She found it difficult to think clearly when he moved even closer. He slipped one strong arm around her shoulders and held her near. It was not necessary, for she was already leaning into him. Slowly, he covered her face with warm, soft kisses, firing her blood and clouding her thoughts. She clutched at his broad shoulders as she succumbed to the need to touch him and steady herself.
“Desire has never run so hot or so sweet for me,” he whispered, nibbling at her earlobes. “If the fire wanes, and it may, a little or a lot, there is trust and a liking for the person you are. Are you of a mind to say nay?”
“I have no say. You are my liege lord. The king has approved. My family would think me mad.”
“I wish for you to be agreeable.”
She slid her arms around his neck and tried to urge his wandering kisses from her neck to her mouth. “I must be agreeable.”
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