by Robyn Carr
Celeste was clearly frustrated by the confusion of the situation. She was no more skilled in complex conspiracies than she was in romantic games. Royce watched this play on her face as her eyes darted and her mouth twisted. “I should have refused Boltof in the very beginning.”
“What does he ask of you, Celeste?”
“Oh, I mean to say the very beginning, when he told me of you and what a good prize you would be as a husband. Not many women, he promised, would be plying their favors to you and with but a bit of coaxing you could be my husband. He admired your strength and your inheritance.”
“My inheritance?” he queried. “I had none when I met you.”
“But Boltof knew that one day you would have lands and a sound reputation. He boasted your friendship with men in high places and your warring skills. And he was right about you. And he was right to predict that I would love you.”
Royce could not prevent a suspicious frown. Something gnawed at his mind. It was not unusual for a knight to seek one of his fellows for his sister, nor odd that Boltof would predict that Royce would better himself by arms and repute. But in Celeste’s simple explanation it was almost as if Boltof had had a hand in fate. Had Royce’s brother lived, after all, Royce would not be in Segeland now. And Boltof had been in the same camp with Royce and Sir Wharton when Aylworth had been killed.
Had Henry granted Royce’s favor, Boltof would have Felise and be heir to his own family lands. And Celeste would reside in Segeland with Royce, costing Boltof no coin for her care.
“Things went awry for Boltof when the king would not approve him as Felise’s husband,” Royce said. But in his mind he could not rest it that easily. Boltof had been tampering with Royce’s future, as if playing with some pawn, for years. He set his mind to watch carefully this one he had called his closest friend.
“Aye,” Celeste replied. “For now his plight is only the worse. He sees me as a burden, has no rich woman to wed, and Lord Orrick, crippled though he is, will hold our family lands for many years, making Boltof a grandfather before he rules his own demesne.”
“And so? What does your brother wish of me? I know the man well, and he often has a plan to include riches. And you have come here without invitation when we are ill fixed to be hosts. Boltof strains the friendship. I would know why.”
Celeste looked at him boldly. “Perhaps he wishes a settlement, as you should expect. You shamed our family, cost Boltof dearly, and leave us paupered in money and dreams,” she said. “I don’t think your offer of a sum for me at some later time will soothe him.”
Royce shrugged. “He has little choice. Should I choose, I can rescind even that offer.”
“He hopes that I can persuade you to do better by us. It is not too late to ...”
There was no need for her to finish. Royce knew the rest as he knew Boltof. “It is too late for any of this to be changed. Surely you realize that.”
“Why can it not be? You could take the matter into your own hands, have the marriage declared void by some excuse. Tell her that I am with child, that Boltof will provide well for her. Divide the property with my brother and let us--”
“Does he ask you to seduce me?” Royce asked. Celeste dropped her gaze and a light flush marked her cheeks. Royce suddenly knew that Boltof had always been the one to encourage Celeste to risk her virtue to trap a man into wedlock. Likely it had been Boltof who taught her the indelicate trick of timing her seduction with her menses and groaning in pain at the consummation. Boltof, more than Royce, had been fond of wenching and especially drawn to young virgins. Though Royce could not prove such a secret pact between brother and sister, he had begun to know much of these two and their many plans. He simply wouldn’t have believed their deceptions could reach these limits.
He shook his head, but pity showed in his eyes. Celeste could not answer him. He felt a stirring anger toward Boltof, but at the same time an anger with himself. He should have been suspicious long ago. But until now, Royce’s actions had quite pleased their whims. He bristled at the naiveté he had shown them, thinking the love and friendship true, while they labored for years to use him.
“You must refuse him, Celeste. I will not bend to any seduction. Do not shame yourself further for Boltof. I am wed. Albeit first by order, ‘tis now much by my will. You are not with child, and though you’ve been hurt, it is as much by your own foolishness as by my advantage over you. I will be fair with you, lady, but know this and take it to your brother’s ears: I will kill the man that threatens my wife and my home--even if he is Boltof.”
She looked at him through glassy eyes, and the pained disappointment that set her mouth was grim. “You love her.”
She is mine, he nearly said, but did not voice this. He knew himself to be plagued by her, drugged by her beauty and effervescence. He had dreamt of her on nights away and prayed she would greet his return. He stood amazed, each passing day, at her quiet and dignified determination as she labored to set his sorry home to rights. He sometimes wished to damn her for her high-flown ways, yet he swelled with pride as she showed her constant respect for him by her diligence. Whether beside her in bed or many miles away in France, he knew in his heart that she was true. This puzzled him, for he did not see himself as more handsome than others, nor more desirable because of possessions. Yet she not only accepted this union, but seemed to crave it and hold it dear.
If I have been tricked by her witch’s locks and adoring eyes, he thought, then so be it. I will play the willing victim and be her knight.
“Yea, I love her. And I hold our marriage contract above all other oaths.”
“I had hoped ...” she began, but her voice trailed off as she saw the conviction in his eyes. She shook her head as if in denial, and her tears ran unheeded down her cheeks.
“I labor with the right words, Celeste. I cannot explain myself better than this: I saw in you a good woman and useful wife and would have met you to pledge that. I thought myself to care. I would have played the husband true for you, yet our lives did not venture so far. And now all I can tell you is that Felise is my wife and has my oath and honor and love for all time. Yea, I must turn you away, and I will pray that your pain from this circumstance is short. Perhaps you will find happiness with an honorable man who can give you more loyalty than I could. And with this a warning: if you let Boltof use you to snare a husband, you will find your cup empty again and again.”
“You kill me with your words. My heart aches.”
“Aye,” he said softly, trying to remember that Celeste was also Boltof’s victim, and probably not the clever conspirator here. “I am sorry.”
She tried to shrug, but it was really a gesture of defeat that pricked his conscience. He wished he had seen that Boltof used her. And he deeply regretted stilling his instincts years before, when the desire was lacking and he knew better than to entwine himself with Celeste. But there had been no other to snare him, and she had been available at every turn. Such is the plight of a man who grows older without bonds.
Now his bonds were of the strongest, surest sort. From a king’s command to consuming love, his body and heart were completely tethered.
“You should not have loved one so careless as me.”
“But she has your heart...”
“This is a poor place for you. You deserve a quiet resting place to reckon with your hurt. Refuse Boltof’s plans and schemes and go home to Lord Orrick, where there is no reminder of the betrayal you feel.”
“She risked nothing and has all of you and I ... I gave all, chanced all, and am turned away in shame ...”
“I will take you to the hall, lady. You may wish to leave us this very day and ...”
“She could have had any man--indeed, she toyed with many.”
He grabbed her fiercely by the arms and forced his voice quiet when it would boom into her head. “Even you, in your disappointment, will not decry her good name. ‘Twas not Felise who tried to trap me with her body, nor did she fling virtue and good se
nse aside in an effort to gain. I understand that you claim love and devotion as your reasons for your actions, and I have not berated you for your foolishness. You gained nothing and lost all and I pity you. But you will not abuse my wife’s good reputation in her own house.”
He took a deep breath and let his angry stare bore into her. “You are unwise to listen to Boltof. You should not have traveled here to wear your woes on your breast and attempt to haunt me or trap me. ‘Tis done. I have no more patience with your broken heart.”
He led her, less than gently, toward the manse and walked with her into the largest room, where the hearth now blazed and many gathered to break the fast. Even Boltof was present, and that one’s eyes widened as Royce brought Celeste into the room.
Royce faced Boltof, and while he had risen that morning with the notion of treading carefully, he was spent of their plots and notions to better their circumstances.
His voice was a coarse whisper meant for Boltof’s ears alone. “I have done your sister poorly on some counts,” he fairly growled. “But that you would bring her here and leave her no dignity names you a worse protector than I could ever have been.”
Boltof smiled easily. “We came in friendship, Royce. We were to be brothers. Twas a pledge made as much to me as to Celeste. I did not think you would face your obligations so poorly. Are we to be called friends beyond today? Or do you cast us out?”
Royce’s eyes darkened and reflected the anger that was slowly building. He knew he must quit the room quickly before his fist moved well ahead of his mind and laid Boltof low.
“My obligations will be met, whether to your satisfaction I cannot say. As to friendship beyond this day, I would not dare predict.” He took a step in the direction of the stairs and looked back at Boltof. “If I listen to another demand from someone who would be a friend--nay, brother--I will end the possibility myself.”
That said, he mounted the stairs quickly, trying to put enough space between Celeste, Boltof, and himself to ponder the outrage of it all. The worst feeling that rose in him concerned his own naiveté in trusting them so completely, nearly becoming entrapped by both of them.
***
Felise had stirred in early morning, still flushed with the memories of the night. But as she stretched out arms to embrace Royce, she again found her empty bed.
She sat up with a start, for this time she had rested with the comfort that his reclusive ways would finally be at an end and they would rise with the sun together. Disappointment overwhelmed her and anger began to stir within her.
She instantly set her mind: she would not be his lover in the dark of night, only to be rejected in the light of day. Whatever his dilemma, the struggle that brought him to her only in this secretive manner, only in great need of her body, she would meet the challenge and somehow set it aside.
She slipped into her nightdress and the new morning wrapper she had fashioned, found her soft leather slippers, and made her way directly to his chamber. No help there, she thought, for not only was he not within, nothing had been disturbed.
She went to the window, hoping to spot him enroute to the stables, his favorite place for peaceful toils. What she saw in the yard below caused her heart to lurch.
He stood speaking with a woman. Although she was cloaked and a hood covered her head, Felise knew it must be Celeste. She watched as Royce held a cloth to her nose and wiped tears from her cheeks.
Felise turned away, her eyes wide and the color drained from her face. She was afraid to see more. If Royce embraced Celeste, or kissed her, Felise knew she could not trust herself to pursue him in good faith and with hope.
She went quickly from the chamber and nearly collided with Daria, who was just on her way below to start her day of work. “Daria, please have some boys from the kitchen fetch water for my lord’s bath,” she instructed.
“My lord?” Daria questioned.
“Royce has returned, late last night, and I would set a steaming tub for him. And,” she said as an afterthought, “send a platter of food, that we may break the fast in leisure in his chamber.”
Daria giggled, covering her mouth. Felise frowned at her maid’s inanity, for it seemed Daria was of a constant romantic bent, yet it was unlikely she had ever been kissed. And Felise was not as intent on romance as she was on winning her husband once and for all.
The full tub steamed, the boys having used the water already boiling in the cookery below, and a bowl of porridge sat on the hearth along with bread and meat for their morning meal. Felise sat in Royce’s chair and waited, trying to still her nervous stomach and wondering how she would handle the situation if he did not return to his chamber this morning. Or if he became angry upon finding her within.
She did not have to wonder long, for he soon snatched open his door. Upon seeing her, he curtailed what seemed to be an angry gesture and eyed her and the tub. His expression softened into a gentle smile. “Good morning, my love. What is this?”
“A morning bath and something to break the fast.” She rose and went to him, putting the thought of Celeste as far from her mind as possible. “I was disappointed that you were gone when I awoke, but I will not shirk my other wifely duties.”
He chuckled and kissed her nose. “Should you choose, you may serve me only as you did last night, and I will hire an army to do the other chores.” He smiled roguishly. “You need your rest.”
But Felise was serious. “Come, my lord. You must crave a leisurely bath after so many weeks of travel.”
“Indeed,” he relented. “But you need not assist me. It has also been my custom to enjoy a private bath.”
“But since I am here ...”
“We will share a morsel and then you may occupy yourself with your other chores while I bathe,” he said.
“Nay,” she returned, shaking her head. She began to unfasten the laces of his gamberson and drew it aside. “You must not be shy of my ministrations, whatever has been your custom.”
He frowned in confusion. “But there is no need--”
“ Tis my need, if you will,” she went on, not looking into his eyes but pushing the gamberson over his broad shoulders and then walking around to his back to pull the garment off. “I am the wife who cleans your hall and orders your servants. I am the wife to ease your manhood and give you pleasure. I will be the wife to know all your needs--to aid your bath, fetch your meals, and bear your children. Until then, I cannot claim myself in truth your wife, for you hide yourself from me in the light of day.”
Royce winced slightly at her words and then turned around to face her. “Lady, to aid my bath is hardly necessary. To fetch my meals, less so. We have many helpmates to do these things.”
“But Royce,” she said, her eyes glittering in earnest, “it does not please me that you creep into my bed only in the dark of night and abandon me before the first light of dawn. I would have more of your time to learn your habits, your needs, and your desires--not only those needs met in our common bed.”
He put a finger under her chin and lightly kissed her lips. “What if, Felise, when you know me more intimately, you do not like what you find?”
She reached for his other hand, which still hung at his side, and placed it on her stomach. “Some months hence you will be a father. Yet I know only a small part of you. I cannot fight your seclusion, your obligations to Celeste, or your past. But I must ask you to give me a chance to be fully your friend ... fully your wife. I need a strong father for my son.”
“A child?” he questioned.
She nodded. “The Chaney house, I suppose, since there has been no time since. Punish me for my wanton ways, messire, but I have dearly missed your presence. And if I have to fight for you, I will.”
Royce’s arms came around her waist and his eyes grew dark and warm. He swelled with love and pride. Somewhere in his mind there was a lurking fear, but he quickly decided he must face the truth. There were parts of her that he wished to know as well. “You are a seductress, woman.” He smiled, ki
ssing her fondly. “Don’t you worry what I’ll think of this brazen behavior?”
She smiled devilishly. “In time you will beg me to take a moment to warm your water or scrub your back, but there will be too many children clinging to my skirts for me to serve you.”
He extracted himself from her and went to the chair, sitting to take off his boots. “You have purchased your own fate, love,” he said, his expression serious. “But there is a child growing and in this you are right. We have lost the luxury of playing our marriage as a game and must henceforth rule this house together, as man and wife.” His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “I warn you, if you find some part of me that does not appeal, it is too late for me to release you.”
She laughed softly at his grim countenance. “Royce, you are so able a warrior and so timid a mate. Ah ... in the dark of night you are the boldest man, but in the light of day you blush as any maid at the thought of my wifely ministrations. Come, husband.”
She pulled off the fetching morning gown for greater ease in helping him wash. This left her wearing only the sheer nightdress through which her bountiful beauty could be easily viewed. His eyes instantly devoured every part of her, but his expression did not lighten. He rose, turned his back to her, and slowly pulled his linen shirt over his head.
Felise had the full view of the mark she had seen earlier. It was the size of a man’s hand, covering perhaps a quarter of his back, and a dull pink in color. Still, it did not even occur to her that this was his reason for preferring darkness to light.
He turned back toward her and unfastened the cross garters of his hose, all the while eyeing her suspiciously. She only smiled, moving to the tub and taking up the sponge in her hand, waiting for him to get in. He watched her closely as he moved toward the tub and settled himself in the water. He leaned forward that she might scrub his back.
Felise lathered the sponge and, kneeling, got on with her task, humming lightly as she did so. He leaned his elbows on his raised knees and gave her several moments at her work. When she’d rinsed the soap from his back, he reclined in the tub and looked at her with troubled eyes.