Lost Love

by Maryse Dawson

Arabella shivered. Her maid spoke the truth. Her father took only so much before dishing out punishment. His leniency ran thin. Running away from a marriage he had taken the time to arrange would suffice in her ending up the worse off.

  Rolling out of bed, she resigned herself to her fate.

  * * *

  Dressed in her bridal gown and clutching a posy of flowers, Arabella walked through the courtyard towards the chapel, her arm linked through her father's. She was dreading the upcoming ceremony.

  The rain had finally stopped, but the wind still blustered, sending shivers through her slight frame.

  Since her father's meeting with Lord John of Terryn, her future husband had not made an appearance. Apart from a brief description of him, she had no idea what to expect. Her father had told her only that he was twenty-eight years of age, tall of stature and wealthy. She shivered, fearing her wedding night ahead. She knew hardly anything about what happened between a man and a woman, only what she had heard the maids whispering about and that wasn't much. She had no mother to advise her as she had died in childbirth when Marie was born. Arabella had only been five at the time, so didn't remember much.

  To lay with a man was daunting enough, but she had thought to couple in the arms of a man she loved, not one that was chosen against her wishes. Pursing her lips, she entered the small chapel, and they walked up the aisle.

  "Lord Terryn is not here yet?" her father asked Father Rulf.

  He shook his head in response. "Nay, milord but there is yet time. Prithee take a pew. I would hath words with Arabella, if I may?"

  While her father seated himself at the front, Father Rulf lead Arabella off to one side. Standing in the south transept, he quietly assessed her. "Art thou resigned to this marriage, my child?"

  Arabella snorted softly. "In truth, nay! But I will do my duty as hath been called upon me."

  "To resist would be an act against thy father, and in doing so, against God himself. For it states in the holy book that thou must honor thy parents."

  She closed her eyes and sighed softly. "I knowest, Father Rulf. I will obey his request, but in doing so it doth not give me pleasure. Wherefore must I wed a man I knowest not!"

  He patted her arm. "If thy father hath agreed to the union then it is for the best. Thy father doth love thee, Arabella. He wouldst see no harm come to thee. Lord John of Terryn must be a great knight for thy father to entertain marriage. After all, his only concern is thy future well being."

  She shrugged. "Thy words speak the truth, but I cannot help my feelings."

  "Be brave, child. I am always here for thee."

  Suddenly, the chapel door blew open and a group of knights strode in. The one at the front, taller than the rest, strode with purpose up to the altar. Father Rulf patted her hand. "I do believe Lord John hath arrived."

  Her eyes grew wide as she took in the size of the man she was supposed to wed. He was huge. Dressed in black from head to toe, he stared back at her assessingly. Unkempt dark-brown, shoulder-length hair hung loosely around his face, which was covered by a straggly beard and moustache. He looked akin to a wild man from the fens—dark and foreboding. She licked her lips nervously. Was this truly the man her father wished her to marry?

  She became aware that Father Rulf was talking to her. "My pardon, what didst thou say?"

  An understanding smile crossed his face. "I asked thee to take thy place next to Lord John, so we can begin the ceremony."

  "Of course." She allowed him to lead her over to the altar. Her future husband stared down at her, his eyes piercing hers.

  "Milady." He nodded and placed her small hand in his. His voice was deep and refined, belying his disheveled appearance.

  Arabella trembled from head to toe, and would have liked nothing better than to run from the chapel and this strange man who would soon be joined to her in holy matrimony, but her sense of duty overcame her fears. She resolved herself to stay put and endure whatever the future beheld.

  * * *

  Arabella looked down at the ring on her finger in a daze. She was now Lady Arabella of Terryn.

  "Milady, I wouldst ask thee to bid thy father farewell, for we depart to Terryn within the hour," said John, seated at the dais next to her.

  Her face fell. "Today? Thou wouldst leave today, but I thought we would abide here for a few days at least?"

  "Nay, wife. We leave for Terryn today. I will not dally."

  The word 'wife' sounded strange. "But I do not wish to leave so soon!" she protested.

  "I care not. As my wife thou will do as I bid."

  Arabella stared at him. He was so curt and abrupt. To be parted from her father so soon was unthinkable. It would not harm him to stay a few more days. She set her face mulishly. "I will not go today!"

  "Do you defy me?" His tone was sharp, and a shiver of fear slipped down her spine.

  She raised her chin and snapped. "Aye. I wouldst not part from my father this early, there are words I wish to say to him, and I will not be hurried!"

  He leaned sideways towards her and placed his mouth by her ear. "Thou art my property now, and I expect thy full obedience. Thou will be ready within the hour, or I will punish thee soundly for defiance."

  He leaned back and raised his goblet to her, taking a full swig of her father's wine. She realized her mouth was hanging open. No one, apart from her father, had ever spoken to her in such a harsh tone, and she was more than a little shocked. Her father had married her to a barbarian! Without saying another word, she left the dais and stalked from the hall.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Arabella was still stomping around her chamber, getting more and more incensed with her new husband's attitude. Wherefore didst he think he could treat her so? His property indeed! He had even threatened to punish her. What sort of husband had her father found for her? So what if he had wealth and lands. He could not treat her like this!

  Mary entered her chamber carrying two large valises. "Lord John instructed me to bring these, milady. He said to pack thy clothes, as he wishes to leave shortly."

  "Oh, did he? Well he can think again!" She picked one of the cases up and stormed from the room, throwing it straight down the stone staircase. She went back for the other, and was just about to launch it down the same stairs, when Lord John came into view. He glared up at her, fixing her with such a dark look that she stopped immediately. Quickly, she ran back into her chamber, threw the case on the floor and slammed the door.

  Mary looked at her in fright. "What is it, milady?"

  "Lord John doth come!"

  Mary clapped a hand over her mouth and with eyes as big as saucers looked at the door latch as it began to lift. "Milady!"

  Arabella tried with all her strength to keep the door from opening, but Lord John pushed it open with ease. He looked at Mary. "Leave us!"

  She scampered out of the room, and Arabella quickly went to run past her husband, but his hand snaked out and grabbed her. Slamming the door with one hand, he dragged her towards the bed.

  "Thou thinketh to thwart me, wife, and ruin my plans. 'Twill not happen." He sat down and threw her over his lap. She struggled and kicked out but to no avail. She felt a cold draught, as her skirts were thrown over her back, and his hand quickly descended on both buttocks.

  She shrieked and bucked to get away, but he was far too strong for her. He held her with ease and laid into her backside again and again.

  "Thou willst not defy me! When I make a demand I expect it to be followed, dost thou understand?"

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  "Aow!" she wailed. "Take thy hands off me!"

  "Nay, wife. Thou art mine and I will see thee brought to heel."

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  Oh, Lord. It hurt like the very devil. She winced as his iron-like hand touched her sit spots, blistering her bottom with heavy-handed swats. God's bones, if this was how marriage to Lord John was going to be…she wished with all her heart to escape it.

  When her bottom was
well and truly on fire, he stopped and let her scramble up from his lap. She stood in front of him and hopped from foot to foot as she rubbed furiously at her skin to try and relieve the pain.

  "Thou will be ready to leave within the next half hour, or I will drag thee kicking and screaming without any baggage at all!" He stood up, and with a warning glare he left her alone to pack.

  * * *

  They rode through the night, arriving at Terryn early in the morning. Arabella was exhausted. Not only from the ride itself and the fast pace her husband wanted to keep up, but from her tender, freshly spanked bottom adding to her discomfort.

  She waited for Lord John to help her dismount, but when he made no such offer, she had to jump down herself. She winced as her wobbly legs touched ground. She wanted nothing more than to fall into bed.

  At those thoughts her heart skipped a beat. Bed. The last thing she wanted to do was submit to her domineering husband. Today would be their first night together as man and wife, and she was dreading it.

  Stable hands came forward to take care of their horses, and she followed her husband into the keep. It was a strong-looking castle, and she noted that she was of great interest to the inhabitants. She smiled tentatively at a few of them and was greeted with shy smiles back. A good start. For that she was grateful. She had visions of them all being as harsh and untamed as Lord John. She was thankful that was not the case.

  Once in the great hall, she listened as he barked out orders to the serving maids. A bath was ordered and she was shown up to their chamber.

  He bowed politely to her. "Welcome, milady, to thy new home. Thy valises will arrive shortly, and I hath instructed Esme to aid thee unpack. When the bath is drawn, I will expect thee to assist me."

  On that word he left her alone. She stared after him. Assist him with his bath? See him naked? She shuddered wondering if his body was as hairy as his face.

  Esme arrived, breaking her train of thought. She was a dainty little thing, and Arabella took to her straight away. While she helped her unpack, Arabella asked her about Lord John.

  "Is he always this abrupt?"

  "Aye, milady. It is told he experienced great turmoil in his youth, thus making the man he is today."

  "What happened?"

  "I know not, milady, but sometimes I see great sadness upon him. Me thinks therein lies a man with a heart, but it is sorely hidden. Mayhap, since he hath found thee all will be well."

  "But he dost not love me, Esme. Ours was an arranged marriage. There is no love within."

  "I hath seen many marriages so, milady. Many lead to strong bonds betwixt man and wife. I pray that thine will be so." She smiled shyly and looked over to the large bath in front of the hearth. "Thy bath awaits. Would thee welcome some assistance?"

  "Nay, she wouldst not. Leave us now." Lord John's deep voice filled the room when he swiftly entered.

  Esme curtsied and quickly left. The room fell into silence behind her, apart from the steady crackle of the fire

  "I will bathe first and thee will attend me," he stated, moving towards the bath.

  "But I hath never bathed anyone, milord!"

  "Then 'tis high time thee learned. Fetch the soap and flannel from yonder table while I disrobe."

  She walked to the table and picked up the items he wanted, keeping her back turned for fear of seeing his naked form. When she heard the water splash she risked returning but kept her eyes lowered.

  She heard a low rumble and realised he was mocking her. She flashed her eyes up to his.

  He fixed her with a stare. "Wash my back." It was said as a challenge. Clamping her jaw tight, she soaped the flannel and placed it against his skin. She was surprised to see no hair on his back, unlike the wild beast she thought he kept concealed beneath his clothing. He leaned forward, allowing her easier access. She drew the flannel back and forth across his broad back. Apart from a few scars, his skin was smooth, his muscles defined.

  He leaned back and told her to clean his front. She swallowed hard and put some more soap on the flannel. His chest was lightly dusted with hair down the middle. She washed his shoulders downwards, keeping her eyes securely fixed on his chest and not what was hovering just below the water line.

  "Fetch the razor. I wish to shave," he demanded.

  She walked over to the table and returned with his razor. She went to hand it to him and he placed his large hand on her wrist. "I wish thee to shave me."

  She gasped. "But I hath never shaved a man! What if I cut thee?"

  "Cut me and know the consequences."

  His look was fierce, and she relived the spanking from yesterday. Her breathing grew shallow, and she licked her lips nervously. "Very well."

  She placed the sharp blade against his cheek and gently scraped downwards. The hair came away easily, and she exhaled a breath. Before long she had scraped all the hair off, leaving him free of beard and moustache, having managed to nick not one bit of skin. Satisfied with her work, she cleaned the blade in the water and put it back on the table. It wasn't until she turned back to look at him from a distance that she froze in shock.

  No longer was it Lord John of Terryn staring back at her, but in his place was Ulric Griffin.

  "Wherefore…" was all she managed to stammer.

  "Aye, my dearest, sweetest, devious little Arabella. It is I, Ulric Griffin, and I am come to seek my revenge!"

  Chapter Two

  Arabella stared back at the man before her, hardly daring to believe what she could see. But see it she did, with her very own eyes. It was her beloved Ulric.

  "Ulric!" she breathed. He had filled out since last she saw him, and his face was harder than she remembered, but it was definitely him. Mayhap more handsome now than ever.

  He eyed her steadily. "Aye, but thee will answer only to Lord John of Terryn now. Ulric Griffin died the day I was banished. Thou will never mention that name again!"

  "But wherefore didst thee not reveal thy name to my father…and to me?" Vaguely, in her daze, she remembered the word revenge. "Thou hath come for revenge…against whom?"

  "Thee, milady. As thee denied me love…I too will deny thee."

  She quickly looked away as he stood up, the water sluicing down his large body. Where once she had yearned to see him bathe, now she averted her gaze, shocked beyond reason at this new revelation.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him reach for a large towel, wrapping it around his naked torso. She turned to stare at him. "I didst not intend to deny thee love, for Mirabelle never wanted thee—she merely played with thee. It was I that was in love with thee."

  He snorted with disgust. "Thee! That was the just the longings of a child, a spoiled child. Mirabelle didst love me, she had already declared so—something thee didst not hear and would have chosen to disregard in thy quest for thy own gain."

  Arabella gasped. He truly hated her. She swallowed hard before responding. "I loved thee with all my heart. Aye, I was wrong lying to my father, a sin for which I paid dearly. Thee were taken from me, when all I desired was to hold thee."

  "All I desired! Hear thyself, Arabella. 'Tis all about thee. For once, thou should hath thought upon the consequences of thy actions, for thee hath ruined my life." He settled her with a dark gaze. "But now I own thee, and I will see thee suffer for these years I hath spent in exile."

  "But Ulric!"

  "Desist! My name is John and thee will address me as such." He threw down his towel and shrugged on a long shirt. "Take thy bath and then get to bed. The night hath been long—'tis best thee take some rest now." He walked to the door. Clasping the latch on the door, he turned to her once more. "I will not stay in this chamber, for I hath no desire to sleep next to the woman I abhor!"

  He left the chamber and slammed the door shut behind him. Arabella stood there in a daze. All these years she'd longed to see his face, hear his voice, and yet now she had, she wished with all her heart that she had not. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away angrily. She
would not waste tears on him; he did not deserve them.

  The boy he once was had vanished without a trace, leaving instead a bitter, angry man. And the worst thing of all was that his anger was all directed towards her.

  A tentative knock came on the door and Esme popped her head around. "I hath come to assist thee, milady."

  Arabella put on a brave face and blinked away her tears. "Come in, Esme."

  With the maid's help, she undressed and slipped into the enveloping warmth of the bath. She had soon washed away the grime from travelling and enrobed in a fine linen nightgown she crawled beneath the coverlet. Within moments she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  * * *

  "Milady? Milady?" Arabella awoke to Esme touching her shoulder softly. "Lord John hath asked that thee join him for supper."

  Arabella blinked wearily. Her head was still muddled from sleep, but even so she remembered how Ulric…nay John…had looked at her when last she saw him. She shivered and closed her eyes.

  "Art thou unwell, milady?" Esme asked, a look of concern passing over her face.

  "Nay, nay. I am a little unsettled by the long journey, 'tis all. Prithee help me dress and I will take supper with my husband."

  My husband. She snorted under her breath. Husband indeed. He cared naught for her and would see her suffer for a child's mistake. Well fie on him. She would prove to him that he was wrong about Mirabelle. Mayhap he would be of a more kindly disposition once he knew the truth.

  Mirabelle had married Merek as planned that summer. She cared not a jot that Ulric had been banished from Arnscroft. The moment he had departed, he was gone from her mind. Arabella had been the one left to carry the guilt of what she'd done, longing to see him again and put things right. But it was never to be. Her love still lingered for him, and no knight that came courting was good enough, until her father had deemed it necessary to intervene and marry her off to Lord John. If only her father knew what he had done!

  Mayhap, if she got word to him, he could save her from Ulric's wrath? Surely he could get the King to intervene and annul the marriage—especially as it had been unconsummated. Feeling lighter of heart, she slipped into the dress that Esme had for her and waited impatiently whilst she laced the back.