The Bride Of Spring

by Catherine Archer

  To make matters worse, Raine knew that she herself had brought about this dreadful state of affairs. She had married him simply because of the fact that he obviously loved and protected his own family. She’d had no knowledge of how demanding he might be of them in return.

  The sudden sound of his voice at her side nearly made her start. “Are you well?” She had not realized her husband had come so near.

  Without looking at him, Raine nodded. She could think of no reply. Considering her thoughts, she had no wish to discuss this episode with Denley, or anything else for that matter.

  She knew she should show some sign of gratitude to Benedict even though he was concerned only because he thought of her as another one of his possessions. She could not find it in her to do so.

  She refused to look at him as she spoke in a voice that she knew only he would hear. “Please, my lord, has enough not been said this day? I would have this behind us. And I am sure that you wish to be on our way.” At last she looked at him, unable to completely hide the resentment in her voice and eyes. “Is that not what you desire? To get us all to Brackenmoore?”

  Benedict stood there looking into those bitter golden eyes in disbelief. It appeared as if the wench was angry with him. How she could be thus was completely unfathomable. He had only done what she had, in fact, said she wished of him in sending her utterly lack-witted cousin on his way. “Aye, that is exactly what I desire.”

  He spun on his heel and motioned to those who had gathered about. “’Tis done. Get on with breaking camp. We have many miles ahead of us this day.” He was not happy to hear the impatience in his tone.

  His men moved in unison to do as he bade, though he knew there must be some muttering about his own obvious and unexpected ill temper. It was quite unlike him to be so abrupt with them.

  Benedict could also feel William’s weighty gaze upon him, but he did not make eye contact with the boy. Although he was already becoming attached to the lad, Benedict was not willing to let him know how ably his sister managed to agitate him.

  Nor did he wish for her to know.

  Determinedly he kept his back to Raine, saying not another word to her, afraid that if he did he might give in to the overwhelming desire to throttle her. He simply walked away and went on about his own preparations to leave, doing his utmost to behave normally even though his anger at Raine continued to burn in his chest.

  As they broke camp, he continued to seethe, keeping her ever at the edge of his vision, seeing the way she went about with that pretty nose of hers tilted skyward. His preoccupation and impatience only served to gain him several more speculative glances from his men. He only hoped that his aggravation had been attributed to the scene with Denley Trent. For some reason he had no desire for his men to know that he had become so overset by a woman, even if that woman was his wife.

  It would not do at all for them to think that his marriage would change anything at Brackenmoore. He stood for more than himself and must certainly learn to control this unwanted reaction to her every insulting word.

  The outrage that continued to burn in his chest throughout the day thwarted his resolve to remain indifferent to her opinion of him. Only the fact that he had never failed in anything he set out to accomplish gave Benedict solace as he determinedly stayed well away from his wife and her maid, who were riding in the middle of the party.

  He instead tried to concentrate his attention upon the boy, who rode near Benedict the whole of the day. The lad was obviously eager for the company of other males, though Benedict was not blind to the fact that he kept a worried and protective eye on his sister.

  Although he wished to avoid any mention of his wife, Benedict could not prevent himself from nudging even closer to the boy’s horse and asking, “What troubles you?”

  William glanced at him with a suddenly leery expression. “Nothing really.” Yet Benedict saw the way his gaze flicked to Raine.

  Benedict gave him a disbelieving glance and William said, “I can tell that you and Raine have had words already. I could see that she was angry with you when we left court, however she tried to hide it. I love her and would not have her unhappy, though I do see your position. It was mad of her to think you would not expect us to go home with you.”

  Benedict grimaced. “That is betwixt the two of us, William.” He then added more gently, “You have no need to worry over her. She will be fine.”

  William turned to him with a shake of his head, his eyes wise beyond his years. “You do not know her. She will always put me first no matter what.” Those green eyes went back to his sister. “She has ever been watchful over me, making sure that I was taken care of and happy, even when Father was alive.” His shrug held a hint of uncertainty. “She seems always to be protecting me, as if she were afraid for me to become frightened or worried.”

  Benedict nodded. He could well believe this and knew that her being overprotective would not help the boy. He himself was determined to be a proper guardian to the lad, which would mean allowing him the room to grow into a man.

  Yet he knew he must proceed gently with his wife on the matter of her brother. Though Benedict was angry with Raine concerning other things, he would force himself to concentrate on the devotion that she showed to William. He could not disregard the courage that had led her to make the desperate choice of marrying a stranger to protect the one she loved.

  He sensed that Raine did not give of her love lightly, and once bestowed, it would be given without limit. That he would never fall in the category of being loved by her would not vex him. He neither required nor wanted her love, only her compliance.

  Through the growing gloom of night, Raine viewed the enormous and imposing edifice of Brackenmoore with haughtily raised brows. As her gaze swept the high, thick, black stone walls, she realized that there was a strange salty quality to the air she had been only peripherally aware of until now. Even as she pondered at this phenomenon she thought how very like an ancestor of Benedict Ainsworth’s to build his castle of such a deliberately imposing stone. As they rode up the incline toward the keep, Raine determinedly avoided looking at her husband, who rode just ahead of her. The resentment she felt toward him had not cooled in the days they had spent traveling. It had only seemed to grow hotter.

  This was certainly aided by the fact that Benedict seemed completely unmoved by all that he had done, including the fact that he had kissed her. He seemed, in fact, to be almost disinterested in her since the jibe she had directed at him on the morning when Denley had intruded upon them.

  Benedict addressed her without even a hint of reproach or discourtesy, just cool indifference. He certainly did not seem to make any effort to avoid her, as she did him. He went about as if nothing of any import had occurred.

  His faultless demeanor only served to make her own anger all the more difficult to defend. Yet she had remained angry and told herself for the hundredth time that she had every reason to behave thusly. It was he who was acting strangely. Anyone with half a mind would have been disturbed by what had passed between them.

  Deliberately she looked at William, who was gazing about with great interest. His eyes met hers and immediately his expression turned to a frown.

  Raine felt her own lips turn down. Why had he looked at her that way? He had spent much time with Benedict and his men on the journey. Raine had been too occupied with her outrage to pay her usual careful attention to her brother, yet she had noted that Will appeared to enjoy the company of the men. And she had also noted that they had treated him with friendly acceptance, especially Benedict.

  Surely it was her preoccupation that troubled him. She must certainly have a talk with him, try to explain herself without giving away too much of her situation with her husband. Again Raine’s gaze was drawn back to the seemingly imperturbable Benedict, who rode with his wide shoulders thrown back, his head high as if he was master of all of England, rather than only of this deliberately imposing pile of stones before them. Strangely enough, she was
both perturbed and reluctantly compelled by that attitude of complete self-assurance.

  Raine sighed. Oh, how she wished she were not so foolish as to find the blackguard so very attractive. Her only relief was that Benedict was not aware of this. Casting another glance at her brother, she felt renewed agitation at the very thought of having to explain any of this to him.

  As if sensing her rider’s distress, the mare began to dance restively and Raine was forced to concentrate on getting her through the raised gateway. She felt a certain sympathy for the mare. She, too, was reluctant to enter these walls, walls that would now confine her and bind her to a life she did not want.

  At that moment she felt a strange tingling along her neck. Glancing up, she saw that Benedict, who was now following her much more closely that she had known, was watching her with an expression she could not even begin to read.

  She tilted her nose and looked away, telling herself that she did not care to know what he thought at any rate.

  As soon as they were through the gate and had entered a wide courtyard dotted with well-tended buildings of both stone and wood construction, Benedict moved up beside her. There was a warning in his blue gaze as she turned her face to his with resentful inquiry. He said simply, “We are home. You will behave as befits the bride of Brackenmoore.”

  In spite of her resentment at his obvious censure of her, Raine could not help hearing the pride and pleasure in his voice. A scowl creased her brow. Was that all he cared for? Brackenmoore?

  As she looked at him, she saw the displeasure in his expression and knew that matters concerning Brackenmoore seemed to be the only thing that perturbed him. She was very fortunate indeed not to have set her sights on this man for any romantic reasons, which she assured herself she had not in spite of the sudden ache in her chest.

  His first and last love was and clearly would continue to be his lands and heritage. And this she did understand on some level. Abbernathy and her brother, William, were all that mattered to her. She would not forsake the trust that her father had placed in her. No matter what the cost.

  She met Benedict’s gaze with an expression of hauteur. “You need have no worries on that score. I will not shame you or your household before your folk.”

  The relief on his countenance could not be mistaken. A tiny flame of resentment flickered in her chest. What did he take her for that he thought she would not understand the honor of his position?

  She pushed her indignation down. Damn Benedict Ainsworth and his opinion of her. And damn her for reacting to it.

  As they brought their horses to a halt at the foot of the steps that led to the wide oak door of the hall, Raine felt a momentary and unexpected twinge of regret. She was a bride entering her home for the first time. Yet unlike the visions she had always conjured of this event as a girl, she had no belongings of her own to lend her new abode an air of familiarity—no sense of hope for the future.

  She had nothing but the chests of gowns she’d had made before they went to court, along with her jewels and a few personal items. All here belonged to Benedict and would be a constant reminder that this was not her home, but his.

  The door above them opened and a woman came out to stand upon the step. She was a portly dame with rosy cheeks, which gave her a homey look, but her dark eyes were perceptive as she looked at them.

  Benedict spoke deliberately. “That is Maeve. She is the head woman here at Brackenmoore.” Raine had suspected as much from her manner.

  Benedict went on, addressing the other woman now, and Raine was quite aware of the reluctance in his voice as he said, “Maeve, this is my wife, the lady Raine.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open. “Your wife, Lord Benedict?” Her amazement was more than obvious as she repeated, “Your wife?”

  Raine heard equally well the weariness in her husband’s tone as he replied, “Aye, my wife.”

  Anger prickled anew and she cast him a narrowed glance. All the while her assurances that she would not shame him were uppermost in her mind. He would see that she did not go back on her word.

  Feeling the great weight of his gaze, Raine raised her head high and went forward. The head woman came down the steps, saying, “My lady, you do not know how welcome this news is to me and will be to all here. We have long felt that Lord Benedict should take a wife, though none would have expected him to be capable of accomplishing such a feat during a journey of less than two weeks. Lord Benedict has never made such a decision in haste, and I am given to think he must have taken quite a fancy to you.”

  This servant was not one to mince words. Though she was not correct in her assessment that Benedict had taken a fancy to her, Maeve’s freedom of speaking told that she held a position of some honor at Brackenmoore. Raine was also beginning to realize that Benedict’s marrying her was very much out of character for him. What that might mean to her, she was not yet certain. What she did know was that Maeve’s approval or disapproval could mean much until she was able to return home to Abbernathy.

  Yet Raine was not prepared to be deliberately tactful. It was not her way. She nodded to the woman, being equally direct. “I have no doubt of your surprise. I was somewhat taken aback myself at the speed of our conjoining, though I was not sorry for it. I was most eager to wed your master with all haste.” That much Raine could say with honesty. That she had changed her mind directly afterward she would keep to her own council. She watched as the servant’s brows rose when she added, “Beyond that I will say nothing. Should you wish to know more of the situation you must ask my husband.”

  Raine was in no small measure surprised when the woman’s lips curved into a wide grin. “It looks as though haste does not necessarily make for poor judgment. If I may say so, my lady, your honesty does you credit. Now we’ll see if this boy has met his match.”

  Raine could say nothing in response to this overfamiliar statement. She did not even dare glance at Benedict to see what he had made of it. The fact that anyone would call the commanding man behind her a boy was utterly remarkable to Raine. That any servant, no matter how familiar, would go so far as to speak so humorously of the arrogant Benedict Ainsworth’s having met his match was completely incomprehensible to her.

  Well, how Benedict chose to reply was Maeve’s own concern, as she had said. The head woman clearly held the blackguard in fond esteem. Raine did not. Benedict Ainsworth might indeed have met his match, but not in any romantic sense that had been implied by the servant’s words. He simply had found a woman who would not readily dance to his tune, as he seemed to think she should.

  Glancing at him, Raine saw that Benedict was no more pleased by this conversation than she, for he said, “That will be enough, Maeve. Shall we go inside? My wife and her brother are surely tired and we must see them settled in.”

  Maeve’s unconcerned gaze swept the courtyard behind them, coming to rest upon William with surprising accuracy. The uncertainty in her brother’s gaze as he peered about made Raine’s heart ache for him. She had not thought he would be so nervous on arriving after his ease on the journey. Seeing his reaction, she was resolved anew to get them both home to Abbernathy as soon as she could.

  Maeve had also seen William’s reticence and acted from what was obviously a compassionate heart. “Welcome, lad.” When he hesitated, she went on. “We’ve always had young men in this house and gladly so.” Raine felt gratitude, for the woman’s kindness warmed her instantly.

  She blinked to clear the sheen of tears that stung her eyes. She did love William so and wanted his happiness and safety above all. Else why would she even be here, wed to a man she barely knew?

  A light touch along her back made her start, for the tingling of awareness that accompanied it told her very clearly that it was Benedict. She swung to face him, leaning away as she saw the sympathy in his gaze. She did not require his comfort, and it was her reaction to that rather than his touch that disturbed her so.

  Clearly Benedict saw her startled response and did not care fo
r it, if the scowl that passed over his darkly handsome face was any indication. Yet he overcame his consternation quickly, for he shrugged and turned away, untroubled once more. Raine refused to consider why his doing so left her feeling suddenly and unexpectedly bereft.

  She followed as her husband led the way into the keep without another word. His easy dismissal showed that he was quite indifferent to her. That moment of compassion could have been only for the benefit of Maeve or anyone who might have been watching them. He did not wish others to know that their marriage was simply a charade.

  Raine meant to make it clear that touching her would not be a part of their truce.

  Behind them she could hear Maeve talking softly to William for another moment, before she came forward to say something to Benedict, who was now at the top of the steps and motioned them to follow. As they stepped into the hall with its high stone ceiling, Raine halted and waited for her brother. Better to concentrate on him than the maddening devil she had wed.

  William seemed much more at ease as she took his arm. “We are arrived,” Raine said, leaning close to him.

  He squeezed her hand as if offering comfort to her rather than taking it as she had intended. He whispered softly, “You will see all will be well, Raine. Benedict is a kind man and the others here seem so, too.”

  Raine realized suddenly that his nervousness had been for her sake. She could not help a quick glance in her husband’s direction. His kindness was not in question. What troubled her was that he was obviously too accustomed to others doing his bidding. He seemed blind to the fact that he did not have the right to command her.

  She was grateful when Benedict addressed Maeve. “Have you a room for William?”

  Maeve replied quickly. “Aye, my lord, if the lad does not mind sharing a chamber with your brother.”

  William looked to Benedict, his eyes bright with both excitement and anxiety as he asked, “Will Kendran mind?” Raine realized that, for Will’s nervous anticipation to be warranted, Benedict must have told the boy a great deal more about his youngest brother than the mention he had made of how he loved to hunt and eat.