by Jen Black
“I believe he wished to re-capture me,” Harry said smoothly, his deep voice pitched to override Alina’s alarmed squawk. He rose to his feet and paid his hostess the compliment of walking around to face her so that she did not have to stare into the sun when looking at him.
“I, of course, had no wish to face him at that point.” He smiled. “After I made good my escape, I believe Footless Will Dodd and Dandie’s Hob took it upon themselves to annoy your husband.”
“Annoyance! I call it a good deal more than that!” Mistress Carnaby drew herself up in the chair, eyes blazing in her thin face. Sunshine caught the gold cross at her throat and flashed light across the solar. “A sword fight is neither an annoyance nor amusing, sir.”
Harry sobered and looked down at his boots. “Of course, I have no idea what happened after I left. I believed they sought to divert his attention from me and perhaps pay back old scores at the same time. I am sorry if it got out of hand.”
“Out of hand!” Margery Carnaby frowned. The force of her breathing trembled the soft linen pleating that filled the low, square neckline of her gown. “How is it that you have Border ruffians aiding you?”
“Mama, Harry could not help it.” Anxious to defend Harry, Alina broke into the conversation. “Father attacked him and was in such a temper he would have killed him if he could. Harry had to escape.”
Harry matched his calm gaze against the angry glare from his hostess. He clasped his hands behind his back and inclined his head deferentially. “I do believe, madam, that your husband would have run me through given half a chance. I know that Sir Reynold’s relations with Tynedale men are not of the best. Footless Will and Hob hardly know who I am, but would seize any opportunity to make mischief for the Carnaby family.”
Mama stiffened in her chair. “What do you know of my husband’s relations with Tynedale men? I thought you were a stranger to the ways of the Border?”
“My father knows more than most about the men of the Border. I learn a little from him, here and there.” He looked at Alina. “It is a pity I selected the name Scott as my alias.”
With a sigh, Alina’s mother conceded defeat. “Of course your father knows those who cause so much trouble.” She gripped the arms of her chair as if steeling herself for the worst. “Why are you here, sir? As I said earlier, trouble follows you into this house. What is it you want of us now, Harry Wharton?”
Harry’s gaze flew to Alina. She opened her palms and shook her head. Where they went from here she could not guess.
Harry cleared his throat. “I wish to marry your daughter, madam.”
Mama looked puzzled. Alina did not see why his statement would be so unexpected. She went to stand beside him. “I love him, Mama.”
Margery Carnaby’s brow creased. She looked from one to the other, a faint smile on her face, and then shook her head slowly. “You cannot marry him, Alina.”
“Why not, Mama? Sir Thomas has agreed.”
“That is true, madam. There is no objection from that quarter.”
“The objection will come from your father, Alina. You know he has contracted you to John Errington.”
“But…” Alina clung to Harry’s arm. Her thoughts spun dizzily. She might have to confess that she had spent the night in the stable loft with Harry in order to get what she wanted. “I cannot marry John Errington when I love Harry.”
Her mother’s gaze moved beyond her and fixed on someone standing in the hall doorway. Alina looked over her shoulder, and froze. Her father stood there. He must have heard everything.
Alina’s father marched into the solar, stood before the window, clasped his hands behind his back and glared at her from beneath lowered brows.
“You shall marry Errington, if he’ll still have you.”
Alina gripped Harry’s hand and shook her head. It had all been going so well, and now this. “No, please, Father.”
Father swung around to glare at Mama. “I don’t care what cock and bull story they’ve been telling you, but Errington wants his bride. I’ve come directly from Sandhoe. The wedding’s set for tomorrow.”
“No!” The word ripped from Alina. “I can’t marry John!”
Her father turned and the ugly twist of his mouth betrayed his temper. Alina quailed beneath the dark-eyed glare and stood rooted to the spot.
“I have given my word to Errington,” he declared. “Would you make a liar out of me? Have me foresworn?”
Hidden within the folds of her skirt, Harry’s hand tightened around hers, warned her to say nothing.
“She wishes to marry me, sir.” Harry’s voice was calm and clear. “I believe the match to be a good one from your point of view.”
Carnaby’s gaze travelled to Harry. “How so?”
Harry let a small pause develop. “So far,” he said calmly, “I have not revealed your mistreatment of me. My father does not know, for example, that you threatened to pitch me off a rock and let me shatter on the stream bed below.” Harry’s mouth stretched in a grim smile. “I should imagine,” he said, watching Carnaby’s face slowly turn red, “that he would be exceedingly angry to learn of such a thing. He might even demand retribution.”
Alina stood rigid, fearful and elated at the same time. Harry’s threat ought to stop her father in his tracks, but lately his temper had been wound so tight that she feared he would take no heed.
She imagined her father’s mind must be ticking over the myriad ways the Lord Warden might choose to make his life a misery should he ever hear the tale of Harry and The Leap. She watched his jaw muscles clenching, the way his lips almost disappeared as his mouth tightened, and her heart pattered far faster than normal. Father hesitated, caught with no answer to Harry’s gently made threat. Notch by notch, his breathing calmed as his passion lessened.
“So you’ll hold this over me to my dying day?” Resignation laced Father’s voice.
“If I have to,” Harry said peacefully. “I would rather never have to mention it again.” Harry raised his hand, brought Alina’s knuckles to his mouth and kissed them. For a brief instant his glance met hers and one eyelid dropped in a wink. “If your daughter still chooses to accept me, I suggest she and I make good use of the priest you have already engaged and we will marry as soon as possible.”
Alina suppressed an urge to grin. “I do so choose. Can we marry tomorrow?”
As swiftly as it had arrived, the colour receded from her father’s skin, leaving it pale. Compassion prevented her laughing with joy as she watched her father try to hang onto the last shreds of his dignity by glancing sideways at his wife. “Does this meet with your agreement?”
Margery Carnaby smiled, rose, walked to his side, and laid her hand on his arm. “It may prove a most advantageous match, husband. A better match, I believe, than with the Erringtons.” Her face was grave as she turned to Harry, but a spark of laughter appeared in her eyes. “I fear we will have a great deal of leisure to learn of the ways of King Henry’s Court, sir.”
Carnaby glared at his wife in disbelief. Shaking off her hand, he snorted with disgust and strode from the solar.
***
A day later, Harry stood in the church at Halton listening to the subdued chatter behind him as he awaited his bride. He caught the occasional jingle of spurs and the thud of a scabbard hitting the woodwork, indicating most men had come to the church armed. He shot a surreptitious glance over his shoulder. The well-to-do half of the congregation looked back at him with open curiosity. Their feathered hats, wide shouldered tunics and rich gowns contrasted sharply with the drab homespun and fustian of the few local folk squashed into the back of the church.
None of his relatives were here, but it did not matter. Father would arrive when he could contrive a space in the constant press of business. The Carnabys, who lived closest and had received the news earliest of all, made up for the lack of Wharton relatives. Sir William of Halton, splendid in brown velvet, took pride of place at the front beside Alina’s mother.
Lion
el had warned him that several Erringtons had turned up, which was puzzling. No one dared turn them away. Perhaps Carnaby had invited them, and if he had, Harry was not going to let it spoil his day. If the congregation had been informed of the altered date, then they must also know that there had been a change of bridegroom.
A mutter of sound rippled through the church and told him his bride had arrived. He looked around and experienced a rush of delight as Alina, escorted by her father, paused at the church door. Her blue silk gown, already sewn with marriage to John Errington in mind, enhanced her small waist and he saw that for the first time since he had known her, she had adopted the court fashion for a stomacher. The flat front pushed her breasts high, and gave her that elegant outline so beloved of the court ladies.
Richly embroidered girdle cords ended in silver tassels to match the tiny silver cords that linked across the slashed and padded sleeves. As she walked forward the overskirt rippled back with every step to reveal the pale silk underskirt beneath.
His years at court had taught him to appreciate good tailoring, but now his gaze ran over the square-necked bodice and lingered on the expanse of creamy bosom, flattered by a glowing amber pendant. Her newly-washed hair, brushed smooth and caught back from her face by a chaplet of flowers, hung loose to her waist.
She walked eagerly down the aisle to join him beneath the Norman chancel arch, her face alight with joy. Cuthbert Carnaby glowered, said not a word and joined his wife and sons. Alina reached Harry’s side and against the background of simple white painted walls her chestnut eyes glowed in the candlelight. He had never seen her look happier.
Her smile told him she appreciated his choice of dark blue velvet doublet slashed with gold to complement her dress. Harry let his happiness show in his eyes and saw her breath catch in her throat. The rest of the world faded away. He could not stop, indeed did not wish to stop, smiling. He took her hand, they turned to the priest and Harry concentrated on the important words that would make them husband and wife.
A latecomer let the church door bang shut. A moment later a deep voice rang through the church. “That woman is affianced to me!”
The priest stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth slack. His gaze lifted from the page of his missal, roamed between the young couple before him and came to rest on someone at the back of the church.
Harry wheeled around, eyes narrowed. Alina turned more slowly. They both recognised the voice.
John Errington, magnificent in crimson velvet, stood in the centre of the church, his hat with its large, curling white feather gripped loosely in one hand. He stalked a few paces forward, halted in the middle of the church and regarded them both. The congregation swayed like trees in a high wind, mouths agape, seeking a glimpse of the intruder. The whispers broke out in a sibilant hiss that rose to the rafters.
Alina’s fingers grasped his arm, and she tucked herself close in beside him.
Harry locked glances with John Errington.
John ignored Harry, and looked only at Alina. “You are engaged to be my bride, Alina. I ask that you honour our agreement.”
His deep voice battered the stones of the church and bounced back to echo around the congregation. Harry looked down, saw the blood drain from Alina’s cheeks.
Harry looked at the man poised to become his father-in-law. Carnaby shot a dour glance at Errington and turned back to the altar with an expression very close to complacency. Harry’s teeth clenched. So he was to handle this himself. He glared at Errington. Surely the man could see she did not want him? Would he not see sense, and leave?
He darted another swift glance at Carnaby, who stared at the great ceiling beams with a satisfied smile. Had he planned this? Harry detached Alina’s clutching fingers, stepped forward and addressed his rival. “Will you join our guests and allow our wedding to go forward, sir?”
Errington’s glance flicked briefly to Harry, and then returned to his original quarry. Offering a sad little smile he held out his hand to Alina. “With apologies, I fear I cannot,” he said with every appearance of sorrow. “I have a signed contract that Alina shall be my bride. I must insist that it is honoured.”
Chapter Twenty One
Harry hesitated. The entire congregation hung on his response. Alina glared at her father as if willing him to do something. Carnaby sat with a smirk on his swarthy face, an expression that made Harry long to throttle him. Biting back his frustration, he half-turned and raised his brows at the priest.
“It is your bride’s affair, sir. I can do nothing.”
No help there, then. Harry turned to the girl at his side. “Alina?”
Her eloquent gaze warmed him. “I wish to marry you, Harry.” She looked at John. “John must find another bride.”
It was all Harry needed. Inflating his chest, he turned to face the crimson clad Errington. “I regret, sir, if you feel somewhat ill-used. Alina and I will marry today, with her full consent and that of her father. If you will give way, the ceremony may proceed.”
“That I cannot allow,” Errington said. He waved an elegant hand around the church congregation. “I have many friends and relatives here. They arrived to celebrate my wedding to Alina Carnaby. It is you, sir, who must give way.”
An indrawn breath shuddered through the congregation. Errington moved a step closer. He looked only at Alina. Once again he held out his hand, and smiled as if he expected her to change her mind. “I would have you for my well-beloved bride, Alina. Will you not come to me?”
The tenderness of that rich voice, pitched for her ears rather than the congregation, must have touched her, for Harry saw her swallow as if some large obstruction stuck in her throat.
“He means it,” Harry murmured. “It seems he has a real affection for you.” Her hand tightened on his arm as she faced the other man.
“John,” she murmured and then ducked her head. Harry wondered what she could say that would not make things worse, but remained silent. Let her deal with it in her own way. “John, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you but….I wish to marry Harry.”
Harry watched Errington’s hazel eyes darken and realised he was not about to give way. “I am afraid I cannot accept that, Alina,” Errington said. The white feather twitched by his thigh. His voice revealed nothing but courtesy, but his expression hardened as he regarded Harry. “I see that this man has coerced or compromised you in some way—”
“No, never!” Alina’s denial rang out.
Harry shook his head, watching Errington closely.
“Father!” Alina turned to her father but Carnaby, damn him, went on staring at the ceiling.
It was her grandfather who shoved his way to the front of the crowd and stood midway between Errington and Harry. From there he glared at his son. “Get on your feet, man. We can’t ignore this. What do you have to say in this matter?”
Carnaby shook his head, folded his arms and nodded towards Harry. “This is not what I wanted,” he growled. “And Errington is right. He has signed papers.”
A jingling of spurs drew Harry’s attention. Several tall, richly dressed gentlemen rose to their feet in the mid-section of the church. Harry glanced back at Carnaby. “Perhaps you forget our earlier conversation, sir? Surely you recall my father’s interest in this?”
Carnaby’s head jerked back. The glare he directed at Harry was filled with loathing. “Damnation,” he muttered. “Errington, I must withdraw from the arrangement. You have my apology, sir.”
Harry glared at Carnaby. The man must have encouraged Errington into this confrontation and likely hoped that Errington would take it further.
Sir William looked from one to the other, and then back at John Errington. “Your supporters may stand down now, sir.”
John twirled his hat in front of him, spinning it round and round between his fingers. “My cousins came to attend my wedding. Should they return home unsatisfied?”
Sir William’s face grew pink. “Damn it, this is not your wedding, sir! The wedding is between Har
ry Wharton and my granddaughter.”
“Ah, yes. The Deputy Lord Warden’s son.” Errington’s glance mocked Harry. “It helps to have relatives in high places, does it not?”
“Now look here,” Harry snapped, and surged forward intent on inflicting damage to Errington’s sneering face.
Alina dragged on his arm. “Harry!”
The congregation sucked in an audible breath.
Harry clamped down on his temper. “My father gave us his blessing, nothing more.”
Carnaby directed a loud “Hah!” at the ceiling.
Errington nodded. “And your father’s blessing appears to have cheated me out of my chosen bride. You will therefore forgive me if I wonder at its shape and form.”
Sir William shot a baleful glance at his son, who ignored him and remained silent. “There was no coercion, Errington,” Sir William growled. “If that’s the way your thinking runs, then you are wrong. I think you must accept what is happening, young man.”
John’s brows lifted. He gazed down at his hat and ran his fingers, over and over, down the length of the white feather plume. He shook his head. “I fear I cannot. If I am not to have Alina by fair means, then I must use foul.” At his words, the young men behind him moved forward in support, and the congregation swayed back to make room for them.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen…” The priest bustled forward, hands raised, palm out. “There must be no unruly behaviour in the Lord’s house.”
Errington brushed the priest to one side and continued towards the bride. Alina retreated and Harry stepped in front of her.
“Out of my way, Wharton.” John’s voice boomed in the small church. Harry felt Alina’s hands grip the skirt of his doublet just as Errington’s fist reached out and grasped the front of it. “I will have my bride.”
Harry lunged forward, grappled Errington and shoved him back. Errington did not let go. They staggered together, lurched from side to side and scattered the Errington cousins and the closest members of the congregation.