The Defiant Bride

by Leslie Hachtel

  Somehow new life was breathed into his withered body. The man sat up, color flooding his cheeks. His eyes opened wider, filled with disbelief. He shook his head to clear it, then refocused his gaze on the woman before him.

  “Is it you, child? Come closer, as my eyes are as old as I am.”

  She leaned in and he reached his hand up to stroke her cheek, testing to see if she was merely an apparition that would dissolve at this contact. When his hand did not pass through it, a smile lit his features and he sank back into his pillows. “Is it you? Truly? You are warm to the touch and clearly not from the other world.”

  “Yes, my lord, I am here. And I beg you to forgive me.”

  Her father smiled. “Forgive you? For being the daughter I raised. For not bending to the will of another, even if he be king. I am so joyful that you still breathe. So, dry your tears. This is not a day for sorrow.”

  “Oh, Father, I cry not for sorrow but for the joy of seeing you again. I am so very sorry for any ill I caused.”

  “Well, you should be sorry, although I cannot say as I blame you. I would probably have done the same as you and I know your dear mother would have been delighted at your rebellion.”

  “Then you forgive me?”

  “Truth be told, I should be the one asking forgiveness. I was very wrong, child. I know that now. These weeks in this bed have given me nothing but time to ponder my life. At first, I did not believe you were dead. I blamed your stubborn ways and I was furious. But I realized I had given you no choice. I forced you from here as surely as if I had thrown you from the very walls with my own hands. Time passed and I was bereft, thinking you must certainly be dead or you would have returned. Why did you not come back sooner, daughter? I would have done anything to protect you. To my shame, you didn’t know that. But, praise the Lord, I have been given another chance.”

  “My lord—”

  Her father interrupted. “No more apologies. Just tell me where you have been and of your adventures. Start at the beginning and leave out no small detail.”

  So Dariana poured out the tale. She spoke of how she survived in the forest. She told of experiences and joys and pain and she left out no small detail, just as he had requested. She concluded with meeting William, although this was the one thing she left incomplete. She omitted that she was tricked into matrimony. There seemed no need to mention the resentment. For some unknown reason, she had no wish to turn her father’s heart against William. It would be unfair.

  “Are you happy with him, child?”

  Dariana dropped her gaze from her father’s face, but not quickly enough.

  “All right, my girl. You shall tell me all of it in your own time. I have interfered enough already. Or allowed the monarch to do so. I assume you know he rescinded his order for your bethrothal. Just let me ask you this. Did you come to me for aid?”

  “I did hear of the king’s change of heart with regard to the alliance. And, nay, Father. I came to you because I missed you terribly. I desire to reassure you that you will not suffer the consequences of my actions. William will go directly to the new king to gain his forgiveness and his blessing for our union. He is certain you will not be deprived of either your home or your lands. William says our new King Henry will not look to punish either of us because of my—small rebellion.”

  “Yes, I have heard similar stories of our new monarch. It seems he strives to restore joy to us in place of the period of mourning imposed by his father. A return to Camelot that his father originally had dreamed, before his life turned biter. I so hope this to be true, for your sake. For now I know that it is you, above all, who matters. No land or wealth or manor walls would I ever exchange for you, daughter.”

  “I love you, my lord.”

  He squeezed her arm and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Now, where is this husband of yours? Probably in Thomas’s clutches. You had best rescue him lest Thomas’s influence ruin him forever.”

  “Yes, I will find him and bring him to you.” Dariana felt better than she had in a very long time. She ran from the chamber and skipped down the steps in search of William.

  While William talked with her father, she returned to the main hall to wait, where a familiar voice warmed her heart. “When was the last you ate, my girl? You won’t get any meat on your bones if you don’t eat.”

  Dariana spun, delighted to see Wendy, that sweet lady who had been like a second mother to her all her life. Dariana threw her arms around the small woman and hugged her tightly. Wendy did not even try to conceal her tears of joy, but let them flow down her cheeks. Dariana cried with her and they held onto each other for a time.

  Dariana spoke first. “I missed you much.”

  “Hah. More than that ugly horse of yours?”

  “Well, mayhap not that much. But then, he does not scold me so.”

  “That proves he is a dumb animal, as you deserve scolding. You have been a worthless child to frighten us all so.” Wendy did not manage to hide the pain she had suffered. “I could not even do my work properly and I fear the manor suffered. I did not believe my ears when they said you were here.”

  “Forgive me?”

  “Mayhaps, but only because I missed your irksome company. But enough of wasting time. There is much to be done and I need to be about it, now that you have returned to us. However, do not think this will protect you from relating every detail of your time away when you settle in.”

  Megan rushed into the hall and held out her arms. Dariana ran to her. “Not too much the worse for wear, child,” she stated in her creaky voice. “And who was it tended you this last year? I know you could not care for yourself, so tell me no tales.”

  Dariana giggled, her laughter filling the air. “If the truth be told, the last one to tend me was your very own cousin, Hildy.”

  “That old hag? How came you to be under her care?” There was no denying the tinge of jealousy that colored her tone.

  “She is at the castle of my new husband.”

  “Husband? We heard nothing of a husband. You fled to escape a husband and it was all for naught?” This last was from Wendy, who had paused in her retreat.

  “Nay. I indeed escaped the wretched betrothal to the Spaniard, but I fear I have indeed been wed to another.”

  “Fear you have been wed to another?” Wendy’s eyebrows rose.

  “Worry not, my girl,” Megan said with some glee. “I’ll make a potion and he’ll die.”

  The thought of William’s death sent a terrible shudder through Dariana’s very being. “No, Megan. Do not kill him. I have already fought for his life once and do not wish his end.”

  “Then what, my girl?” asked Wendy.

  Unshed tears burned behind Dariana’s eyes. “I know not and that is all I know.”

  Dariana gazed out the casement into the garden below. The roses were in full bloom. Dew glistened on the vibrant petals like diamonds against the throat of some beautiful lady at court. The thought of court led her to musings about her husband. He had been gone more than a week now and the days had dragged on leaden feet.

  She was not ready to admit that she missed his presence. The man had, after all, forced her into marriage, and that was not to be forgiven. She had spent one hard year alone and isolated, and much of that time afraid, just to avoid such as that. It had seemed longer. She thought of the terror at the whispers of the night wind, promising to engulf her in darkness. She remembered facing challenge after challenge in attempts to survive and the aching loneliness that daily threatened to overwhelm and defeat her. The loneliness that had dissipated the day William appeared.

  She thought of how William had charmed her father. Even so, he was initially deeply suspicious of the circumstances that caused his daughter to be in the state of matrimony and wary of the man who had managed such a feat. Before William had departed for court, however, her father was singing his praises to the rooftops. Dariana felt a little betrayed by this, but she had never told him the truth of the coercion and how de
ep her resentment ran. How would he feel about William should he fail to gain the king’s forgiveness? Then would her father be lauding the praises of his new son-in-law?

  Linford Manor itself had felt her loss as surely as the people who resided within its walls. Her woman’s touch was no longer in evidence and the manor appeared cold and dirty. So, as she had done every morning since her arrival, she clothed herself in one of her oldest gowns and set about the work of the day.

  It had pleased her to see her chamber unchanged, with the exception of the residing spiders and their filmy webs and the thick layer of dust throughout. The fact that her clothes and furnishings remained virtually untouched since her departure bore proof her father had refused to give up hope. It spoke of his faith in her ability to survive and one day return to her home.

  Dariana dressed, covering her hair with an old scarf instead of the now-usual veil. Then she swept down the staircase, calling out as she hurried to the main hall. The servants, although delighted to see her, had to be roused from the acquired slovenly habits that had overtaken them during her disappearance. It was obvious that after Dariana had gone missing her father had not cared about the state of his home, or even his kitchen for that mater. The kitchen walls were thick with grease and filth and the cooking pots were desperate for a good scrubbing.

  Only a few days had passed since Dariana’s return, but already the windows gleamed in the sunlight, the tapestries that covered the walls were again rich with color. The scent in the air was freshened. The servants were exhausted by each day’s end, but their mistress was so kind and patient they all went about their tasks without resentment and with light hearts. And, at the end of each day, she lifted their spirits higher with individual praise for their efforts. With the compliments, each had a new determination to work harder on the morrow.

  As the manor gained new life, so did Dariana’s father. Color returned to his cheeks and, with her careful ministrations, he put on weight and gained strength. On the third day, he was up and out of his bed and bellowing for Thomas, demanding to be told all that had transpired during his illness.

  Thomas complained, halfheartedly, about the demands on his time and all the activity, saying he was old and required quiet in his declining years. Dariana laughed out loud at this and told him when his ‘declining years’ truly arrived, they would all give him peace, but for now there was much to be done. He told her she was a heartless wench and then soundly kissed her on both cheeks and hugged her until her breath was nearly cut of, which only made her laugh all the harder when she could catch her breath.

  Too, Dariana’s garden was returning to life with an abundance of bright flowers. The herbs would soon improve the quality of their table. The garden had always been a source of great joy for her and she had been disheartened at seeing its terrible neglect. Her pleasure had known no bounds, however, when she approached the stables. Hope against hope, she dared to believe her beloved black gelding, Moonshadow, would be alive, strong, and would remember her. She had kept him in her heart all her time away. The beautiful dark beast had been grazing when she neared, his mind on his meal. Suddenly, though, he lifted his head, flaring his nostrils, releasing a whinny that thrilled her very soul. He spun in his excitement, then danced up to her in the stall and thrust his huge head into her waiting arms. She held onto his thick, powerful neck, then buried her face in the sweet, earthy smell of him. The hours of pleasure they had shared together came flooding back. Her eyes filled with tears of joy to know her best friend was still here, anxious as she was to be out and about the countryside.

  Without so much as waiting for a groom, she flung open the stall door. Grabbing a handful of his heavy mane, Dariana pulled herself onto his broad back, urging him forward. The months melted away when they cantered out into the green hillside. They flew across the landscape, free, happy.

  As she rode, Dariana’s thoughts drifted to her husband. William stirred so many emotions. She was in turmoil. The lack of understanding of his effect on her made her all the more angry and frustrated. Fear of the king’s disposition was a worry. They had left so much unsaid between them. Would they have another opportunity to be together? William could fail and the king could bring punishments to bear.

  She had to admit there was an emptiness she could not fill, even by working herself to exhaustion each day, removing the neglect of her time awafrom the manor and setting the household back in order.

  When she was not working, she roamed for hours on her beloved Moonshadow, but still there was something missing. She thought of how her body constantly betrayed her when William so much as smiled at her, innocently brushed against her. How her entire being seemed to flame at his kiss. She felt a blush spread across her cheeks at the thought of their intimate moments together. She dismissed the memories, convincing herself she was only concerned with the outcome of her husband’s visit to the king.

  CHAPTER 9

  William paced the floor, heedless of the many others who waited with him outside the king’s chamber. Never one with an abundance of patience, he tried to control his building frustration at the interminable waiting. He had sent a messenger ahead from Linford Manor requesting an interview on a most urgent mater and the man had greeted him upon his arrival with the news that Henry would see him at once. But William’s experience was that Henry’s ‘at once’ could mean hours or days. William was all too aware the king had many demands and other priorities to attend to, but that knowledge did not ease the tension of his waiting as it stretched from hours into days.

  Henry’s court was alive with color and gaiety. The oppression of his father’s final years had been banished and all were delighted. William tried to let the infectious good mood spill over onto him, but his desire to settle the matters at hand hung over him like a dark thing.

  Finally, the king sent his summons. William hurried to his chambers only to be informed it might be several hours yet before the king would be available. Unable to do more than wait, William worked off his tensions by walking back and forth in front of the heavy, carved wooden door that kept him from his goal and occupied himself with thoughts of the beautiful wife he had left so many days before. William wondered at his obsession with her. He loved her beyond all reason and she had reached a part of him he had not known existed. He had always thought of women, other than Leah and his own mother, as objects to ease a man’s lust and perhaps enrich his coffers. Of course, they were also necessary in order to beget heirs to carry on the family name. But what he felt for Dariana was beyond his comprehension. He was a knight, a warrior, strong and powerful, ever the victor in war or confrontation, yet this vixen had broken his defenses and could bend him to her will like a willow submits to a gust of wind. He closed his eyes, pictured her perfection, and caught his breath. He feared he might disgrace himself with visible proof of his lust for her. Her beauty was beyond compare, but there was a great deal more to her power over him than merely her fairness of face. This woman was strong and willful, intelligent, not a coy, simpering, insincere, and manipulating female like those abounding at court. She had survived alone, in the king’s forest, no less, fighting heaven knew what terrors rather than giving up her freedom to one not of her choosing. Yet he had conquered her. No, conquered was not exactly correct. He had actually coerced her and, thereby, he had been able to accomplish what no edict of the last king had been able to do.

  Clenching his fists in determination, he vowed to win her over completely if it took the rest of his life. She was strong, but he was stronger, and he swore he would be victorious. First, however, he must stay the king’s possible wrath and protect her father’s land from confiscation. Which, he seethed, could only be accomplished if Henry would see him.

  Finally, the huge wooden door swung wide and William was ushered into the presence of the king. William bowed low and was directed to a chair. As he sat, he gazed at the new King Henry. He had known him many years and had sworn his allegiance from the very first when others plotted to wrest the
kingdom away and place a usurper on the throne. Henry was loyal to his friends and William was counting heavily on this friendship now.

  The king was garbed in his favored orange and the bright quilted doublet gleamed with pearls at each gathering. The sleeves were slashed to reveal tawny silk beneath. His trunks were of a similar orange hue and gold chains draped across his chest and glittered at his waist. His tawny hose hugged muscular legs; his slippers of orange velvet, also slashed to reveal the pale fabric beneath, completed the picture.

  The richness of the king’s raiment did little to impress William, but the man himself was impressive indeed. Henry looked every inch the king.

  “Well, William, my friend, what do you at court and so anxious to see your king? Surely you have not come to learn the latest fashions.” The king narrowed his eyes at his friend’s lack of humor, then smiled. “So, what be her name?”

  William was astounded by the king’s perceptiveness, although it should have come as no surprise. “Whose name,, your majesty?”

  The king laughed, a deep, rich sound that echoed throughout the chamber. He clapped his hands and a servant hurried over with two silver goblets set with precious jewels and filled with wine. He bowed to the king, handing him one and bringing the other to William. The king drank deeply, then turned his attention back to William, waiting expectantly.

  “It is a mater most delicate and confidential, your majesty.” William eyed the many men filling the corners of the chamber, leaning in.

  “I see.” He clapped his hands, rings glittering on each finger. “Go. All of you,” he boomed to the men. It was a command to be obeyed without question, accented with an imperious wave of the royal hand.

  “But, your Majesty…” An intrepid lord moved closer to the king. “It is ill-advised to leave you vulnerable.”

  Henry’s laugh rumbled from his chest. “My dear Blessington, you must agree that if a king cannot trust his kinsmen and earls, then all is lost.” The sardonic quality in Henry’s tone discouraged argument. Instead, the man followed the others and, bowing low, backed out of the chamber. Then Henry turned his attention back to William and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.