Guy arched a dark brow. ‘Happy anticipation? Forgive my impertinence, Jane, but I seem to recall that the last time I saw you with Aniston, he was on the point of assaulting you. Is it that which inspires such happy anticipation? Or was my judgement also faulty? Maybe you were not in need of rescuing after all and would have enjoyed the rough and tumble of his lusts.’
Jane tensed as he came closer still, reminding herself it was past time for her to take leave of him, and she told herself she would, but she was reluctant to do so. His closeness was forcing her heart to beat even more rapidly than before, something she would not have thought possible. She asked herself what was wrong with her, for if there was ever a time when she ought to be erring on the side of caution, it was surely now.
She lowered her eyes. ‘What happened yesterday was between Richard and myself,’ she told him. ‘Any differences of understandings we have will be rectified by us.’
All trace of mockery had vanished. Guy’s blue eyes were as hard as granite, as was his voice. He was clearly angry and his tone was deadly quiet. ‘Differences of understandings? Tell me this. Has Aniston ever threatened you with violence? Have you ever felt yourself to be in direct physical danger from him?’
Jane was determined to maintain her composure, though the effort cost her dearly. She had been disturbed by Richard’s behaviour and felt nothing but dread for what he would do to her on her wedding night. But knowing how important this marriage was to her father, she had no choice but to defend him.
She gave a half-hearted shrug. ‘No. I think it was a matter of Richard being too eager. He believes that once a couple is engaged, they are considered as good as married. He is not alone in that.’
She could see that the anger she’d heard building in Guy St Edmond’s voice had become etched on his face in hard lines as he responded to her words. ‘Which is why a good many brides are already pregnant when they make their vows to the priest. There are things in this world that are worth the waiting.’
‘Since you have just proposed that I become your mistress, that makes you a hypocrite,’ Jane retorted sharply.
He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘I’ve had my moments.’
She gave him a questioning look. ‘Yesterday you implied that you knew Richard—or know of him. I am curious.’
‘I know Lord Lambert. He was a good friend of mine. We fought many a battle together. Aniston was a squire in his household. We never met, but I knew of him.’
‘I see. And what happened to Lord Lambert—you speak of him in the past tense.’
‘He did not live long following the tragic death of his beloved daughter Lucy.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jane said, having no desire to pry into what was clearly a private matter. Unless … Her eyes flew to his. ‘Was Richard involved in what happened to her?’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t say. But you must understand my concern.’
‘I—I do care for Richard,’ she lied in desperation, haltingly, unconvincingly, tears welling up in her eyes which she immediately blinked away. There was a part of her, young woman that she was, that wanted to run home and fling herself on her bed and cry. But she could not do that. She wasn’t Blanche, who laughed and cried easily. ‘Please do not speak to me like this again. I will not listen.’
‘Damn it, Jane. I am no monster. Would you rather take that coarse, unsightly lout and nurture him with the sweet joys of wedlock than consider me? Are you mad? Aniston is to have what I want and silence on the matter will not make that fact any sweeter. You forget who you are dealing with. Do you not realise that as lord of this demesne, no man who lives on my land can marry off his daughter unless I allow it? I have the right to forbid your marriage to Richard Aniston.’
Jane paled, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘You would not do that?’
‘It is within my power to do so—if I so wish.’
Jane was furious at what he was implying. Her angry eyes held his. ‘How could you even think of doing something so base? You may command your soldiers to your will, sir, but you have no such authority over me—and you have much to learn about courtship.’
Guy had to concede that she spoke the truth. The people of Cherriot were not like the knights and squires with whom he had spent the last fifteen years. He was a fighting man. In his world loyalties were clear. Bravery was a virtue and the issue was life or death. No time for courtship. Since Isabel, he had vowed that his emotions would never be engaged by a woman—until he met Jane Lovet. Guy cauterised his emotions. Women had always been attracted to him because he remained aloof, giving only so much of himself. That was the way he liked it, the way he intended to control his life.
But he would be satisfied with nothing less than a satisfying union with a woman whose charm and beauty had entirely seduced him.
‘Richard and I will be married. It is final—irrevocable.’ Jane stepped passed him, her head held high. Guy St Edmond didn’t know the wedding had been brought forwards. By the time he found out she would be married to Richard and that would be an end to the matter. ‘Now excuse me. I have nothing further to say to you.’
He grasped her arm. ‘Come, I will walk with you to your home.’
She shook his hand free. ‘No. I cannot be seen with you. People will gossip, which would not be good for either of us.’
Despite the fact she’d only glanced at him before she’d walked on, Jane had registered the odd light in his eyes and the indefinable smile lurking at the corners of his lips. She had no idea what was behind it, she only knew his smile increased her fury until it completely eclipsed her misery.
Had Cedric or any of his knights been present to see that look, they could have told her that it was a portent of what was to come and their explanation would have angered Jane far more than she already was. It was the look Guy St Edmond had on his face when he was about to ride into battle contemplating victory, refusing to be deterred by the opposition. Guy St Edmond, arrogant sensualist, would let nothing stand in the way of his desire.
From where he stood hidden from view by a dense yew tree, Richard seethed. He had seen all of it. He had seen them come out of the church and been watching for the entirety. How he would like to teach Guy St Edmond a lesson. But in a few short weeks after he had married and bedded his wife, he would have driven home the message that he owned her, before man and God, that he alone had the right to touch her, whenever and wherever he pleased, and that no man would ever dare challenge that right.
Unaware that she was being observed by Richard, Jane left the church in a whirl of emotions. She was more affected by the earl’s proposal that she become his mistress than she would have him know. Fleeing from the wreck he had brought about, desperate to be alone so that she might think about this new, incredible turn of events, on entering the house she hurried to her room. Around her the house was quiet.
Sitting on the window seat, gradually she recovered her self-possession. For the first time in her life she was discovering power over a man, sufficient at least to disturb the disagreeable, yet oh-so-attractive Earl of Sinnington. As much as she wanted to give way to the perfectly natural temptation to abuse it, she was wondering if she really could turn it to her advantage.
He had told her he was offering her a lifeline. Perhaps he was, but then, if she were to give in to his demands, was there not a chance that she would be jumping out of the proverbial frying pan into a blazing inferno? In the eyes of everyone in Cherriot Vale she would be a shameless wanton, soiled and used, unfit company for unsullied young women and unfit to mingle in polite society. She would have broken the rules governing moral conduct and not even with someone of her own class.
Richard was an objectionable character, controlling and aggressive, an aggression that was ever present in her father. She made up her mind that she could not live as her mother had done beneath the heel of a domineering man, as a woman who, in her father’s strict adherence to his code that a man must rule in his own house and who expected his will to be done a
t all times, needed rough handling in order to be mastered.
Guy St Edmund was a brutal warrior, and if his reputation was to be believed, with the blood of thousands on his hands. But he was without doubt the more handsome of the two. Wild and wanton sensations she had never experienced with Richard took control of her whenever they were together, filling her mind with thoughts no decent, unmarried girl should think of. She allowed herself to imagine how it would be were she to give in to his desire. A thrill coursed through her and warmed her blood. It seemed far-fetched to think that one man could move her to such extremes, yet when she compared her joy at the feelings he had awakened in her to the strange, inexplicable yearning that presently thwarted her mood, what else could she put it down to?
How could she possibly bear being married to Richard now?
Her brain worked quickly, and when she finally got to her feet, she felt as though she had been born anew as a result of some painful and unaccustomed process of gestation. Slowly the picture she had built up of her life with Richard was finally crumbling away.
Her father’s image came to mind. Suddenly her heart was pounding and her cheeks were hot and she tried not to think of him or how angry he had been when Andrew had told him he was to fight for the Lancastrian cause. He would be furious. But he had not arranged her marriage to Richard out of devotion to her but, controlling, cruel and manipulative, to his devotion to his own self-interests. Her mind made up, she heaved a deep sigh. She would be in command of her own fate. As much as she dreaded confronting her father, she knew she had made the right decision. She could not have sustained living with such a man as Richard.
Having no wish to alarm her parents and wanting to absorb her decision and consider what it would mean to her future, wanting to think about it some more and to nurse her secret a while longer, she had kept it to herself.
What she had not expected was that Richard would call on her.
It was mid-morning the following day when he arrived. She was alone in the parlour and with a quiet confidence she watched him approach. There was something different about his manner, something out of character. There was also a strange excitement in his eyes. She felt her hair bristle in the nape of her neck, but forced herself to remain calm. Now the moment of confrontation was at hand, she was strangely relieved. He made no move to approach her. His face was white and he seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil.
Despite the repugnance he inspired in her, her smile did not falter for an instant. She knew she looked stunning in her snug-fitting gown of emerald green with its flared skirt and a lace cap covering her hair, but it would be lost on Richard, whose thoughts only seemed to focus on what they concealed.
When she rose from the settle by the hearth, Richard could barely keep his lusting gaze from straying from her beautiful face to her softly rounded breasts and tiny waist. But suddenly he seemed to recollect himself and pulled himself up straight, a hard gleam replacing the sexual desire in his eyes.
‘Richard! You find me all alone today. My parents have gone to call on my aunt and uncle. But I am glad you are here. I—have something to tell you which cannot wait.’
‘How odd,’ he said, anger flushing the pallor from his face. ‘I have something to say to you—you whore.’
She stared at him as if she didn’t understand the meaning of his word. ‘What?’
‘You whore. I will not be played false.’
Thrown off balance by his callous insult, she stepped back. ‘What are you talking about?’
He looked at her accusingly. ‘As if you didn’t know? The minute my back is turned I find you consorting with someone else—Sinnington, of all people.’ Moving closer, his face having turned a terrible shade of red, Richard fastened his rage-filled eyes on her. ‘I saw you with him outside the church yesterday—talking to him, preening yourself for him like a whore, flirting and cavorting with your simpering smiles.’
‘I most certainly was not.’ Jane flared with indignation, shocked by what Richard was implying.
‘He put his hands on you. I saw him—and your wanton response.’
Jane glared at him. ‘You spied on us. You should have made your presence known, Richard.’
‘What? And spoil your little tête-à-tête?’ he sneered.
‘It was not what you think.’
‘Did my eyes deceive me?’ he spat savagely.
‘What you saw was what you wanted to see, when in reality the Earl of Sinnington was merely passing the time of day.’ Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself as if preparing for battle. ‘I have often questioned my acceptance of you as a husband, Richard, so better we end it now. I am calling the wedding off. I will not tie myself to a man I do not love—a man I know I can never love. Before you came here today I had already decided I am not going to marry you. I intend telling my parents when they return, and afterwards I am sure my father will want to speak to your own.’
‘So, that’s the way of things, is it? I can see Sinnington has turned your head,’ he sneered contemptuously. ‘If you think he will marry you, then think again. He holds a position close to the King of England. He’s not going to wed some beggarly cloth merchant’s daughter from the camp of his enemy. If he marries at all it will be one of the great ladies of the king’s court.’
Jane paled. ‘You have said quite enough. I think you had better go.’
‘I will. Do you think I want to remain close to the woman whose hands have been all over Sinnington? Has he told you that he loves you? Is that it? And were you fool enough to believe it? Ha!’ he scoffed, eyeing her insultingly. ‘As maybe he loves each and every one of the women he’s bedded and there are hundreds of them. And when he leaves you and sees another pretty face? What then? He will forget you within a day.’
Jane was beside herself with anger. ‘How dare you? How dare you imply that—?’
‘I dare, Jane,’ he growled savagely, moving closer, making full use of his threatening gaze. ‘Oh, yes, I dare—for were you not to be my wife? Sinnington will bed you, then when you have satisfied his needs he will pass you on to one of his men, as he does with all his sluts. Men of his ilk don’t marry their whores. If you do this, then, by heavens, you can be assured I will make you pay for what you’re doing to me. I will find you when the wall is to your back and you’ve only one path to go—and that is past me.’
His warning sent icy shards of dread shivering through every fibre of her being, causing her heart to leap in sudden fear. There was something intimidating in his movements that Jane did not like, something almost predatory. She edged back, attempting to put space between them, but he came on, his body a menacing shadow on the floor. Showing him how affected she was would only incite him further.
She had been on the brunt of his lustful nature often enough, but this was a side to Richard she had never seen before, and she knew with a cold, hard certainty that she never wanted to see it again. If she married him, she feared whether she would be able to survive their wedding night, much less their first conjugal mating. The disillusion of her intended betrothal to Richard was complete.
‘You have made a fool of me—a laughing stock,’ Richard hissed, thrusting his ugly, contorted face close to hers, his lip curling. ‘You may congratulate yourself on being the first woman to do that, but you will certainly be the last. Have a care, Jane. You may have been blinded by Sinnington, but if you become his whore then your family will have to bear the brunt of it. You will shame your house and your name. Think of that when you are lying in his bed.’
Richard’s accusations and insults brought colour flooding to Jane’s cheeks. She turned her head away from the blazing fury shooting from his eyes. He was angry and it was natural that he should be so, but she would not change her mind. She had grown up knowing the shape her life would take and she had accepted it—if not her father’s choice of husband—but she was also the daughter of a businessman who had taken her with him to the London markets, where every merchant’s worth was measured in
gossip. She knew how easily people could be destroyed by rumour.
But there would be no shame, for she had no intention of giving in to Guy St Edmond’s demands. Feeling a constriction in her throat, she raised her head, resplendent with a rage which made her eyes flash.
‘You are mistaken. I have no intention of becoming the Earl of Sinnington’s mistress. I have nothing further to say to you, Richard, except I am sorry things have turned out this way.’
‘Sorry? You are sorry?’
‘Yes—yes, I am. It was not my intention to hurt you, but I have made up my mind. And now I think you should go,’ she said calmly, but firmly.
Jane expected further argument and was surprised when he turned on his heel and left. She was left shaken by the encounter, but she was glad it was over and she could look to a future without him.
Jane had waited for her parents to come home, her heart filled with dread in anticipation of the condemnation she would ultimately receive from her father. They returned later than expected. She was walking in her favourite part of the garden where the river meandered its way through the trees. When her mother came to join her, she looked at her anxiously, drawing her down on to a bench beside her.
‘What is it, Mother? Are you feeling unwell? You are very pale.’
‘We—your father and I—have just seen Richard. He told us he had called on you—and that you have decided to call off the betrothal. He said that you no longer wish to marry him. Jane, tell me it is not true, that it is a mistake.’
Jane hung her head for a moment, then looked at her, unable to hide the truth from her mother’s questing, unhappy eyes. ‘I can’t. It’s true. I have changed my mind. Forgive me, Mother, but I cannot marry him. I will not be beholden to a man I cannot honour.’
‘But—why? None of this makes sense. Everything is in readiness for your betrothal. Your … father has taken it very badly. He … is extremely angered by your actions. This is not a good time for him. Things are bad—they couldn’t be worse.’
‘I know and I am sorry. Truly I am. I am aware of how much you will suffer because of this, but I cannot marry him.’
The Devil Claims a Wife Page 6