The Devil Claims a Wife

by Helen Dickson

  Placing an arm about her shaking shoulders, Guy drew Jane inside her chamber and closed the door. Clutching a trembling hand over her mouth, she sank bonelessly on to the bed. Not only was she shaking to the very core of her being, but her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would burst. She couldn’t breathe, much less think.

  ‘What am I to do?’ she asked in a desperate whisper. ‘How can I explain this? What can I say happened? Everyone will think I am to blame—how can they not when he’s lying dead at the bottom of the stairs to my chamber?’

  Seeing her in such distress tore at Guy’s heart, but not so much that he had not assessed the situation fully.

  ‘You will do nothing,’ he replied firmly. ‘You will have no need to explain anything to anyone. I will do that.’

  She stared up at him. ‘But everyone will think we killed him.’

  ‘There was no one to witness what tran spired but you, me and Cedric. We know the truth. Richard fell.’

  ‘But what if they don’t believe us?’ demanded Jane, deeply distraught, her voice hoarse to keep it steady. She hugged herself tightly, blinking through a blur or tears.

  Sitting beside her, Guy reached out for her clasped hands and held them in his own. The flame of the candle wavered, illuminating her face. The pain in her eyes made his heart ache. ‘Don’t think. Listen to me. We will stay here together until morning. You will be safe with me.’

  ‘But—Richard is dead …’

  He squeezed her hands. ‘Trust me, Jane, everything will be all right.’ He saw the way she bit her trembling lower lip and went on, ‘Considering the amount of liquor Aniston consumed and the state he was in when he left his companions, everyone will see that his own drunkenness led to his death. It will be nothing more than that. You are innocent of any wrongdoing—as I am, Jane.’

  ‘If I have done no wrong, then why am I so consumed with guilt?’

  ‘It will pass. When he was falling, I reached out to save him, but I couldn’t. Do you understand what I’m saying? It was an accident.’

  Jane nodded. His words made sense, but she was nearly frantic with fear. ‘I was so afraid …’

  ‘You had good reason to be. Aniston was a despicable monster. He meant you nothing but ill.’

  Jane looked at him and considered him for the first time since he had come to her chamber. ‘You already knew that. I know now that he tried to kill you that day in the woods—he—he told me—and I was so ready to blame you. I’m so sorry, Guy. Please forgive me.’

  He drew her into his arms. ‘Hush, my love, there is nothing to forgive. Aniston spoke the truth. When he drew his dagger, I swear he was going to kill me, Jane. My reaction was instinctive. Had there been time to think—or had there been distance between us …’

  ‘You are a soldier, trained to protect yourself and others. Instinct made you reach for your dagger—and I’m glad you did, otherwise Richard might have deprived me of my husband. I should have believed in your innocence. I was so confused—swept out of my depth and into a helpless maelstrom of emotions that I was unable to understand or control. I was haunted by the possibility that you weren’t as noble and honourable as you seemed—when all the time … Richard also told me the truth about how Lucy Lambert died. You were right. It was no accident. He confessed to killing her, Guy. Her father was right to suspect him of her murder.’

  Guy stared at her, his eyes wide. ‘Lucy? You spoke of Lucy?’

  ‘I—I was stalling for time—I thought of all manner of things to stop him hurting me.’

  ‘And he admitted murdering her?’

  ‘He—he said that when she told him she was with child, he—he pushed her and she fell. He said the fall killed her when she knocked her head. He put her body in the lake to allay suspicion.’

  ‘It was the despicable act of a coward. He deserved to die. I’ll inform Lucy’s brothers of what happened. What Aniston told you was what they suspected all along.’

  ‘What I don’t understand is what you were doing here. How did you know Richard would come to my chamber?’

  ‘I suspected he would try something like this. I’ve been watching him. I was proved right.’

  ‘You will stay with me?’

  Seeing the vulnerability in her eyes and knowing how difficult it would be for her to get through the rest of the night, Guy gathered her to him. ‘All night.’

  The official verdict of Richard’s death was accidental with no blame attached to anyone. On his arrival in London, renowned for being a braggart and a drunkard, he had let it be known that before Jane’s marriage to the Earl of Sinnington, she had been on the brink of becoming betrothed to him. When the guards had removed his body from the bottom of the stairs leading to the countess’s room, it was assumed that after consuming large amounts of liquor, he had tried making his way to her chamber. In doing so he had tumbled down the stairs, hitting his head and breaking his neck.

  Everyone was in agreement that she’d had a lucky escape.

  This was not a lie or a flight of fancy, but the truth of what had actually happened.

  Guy also wrote to Lord Lambert, informing him of Richard’s confession, finally proving Richard was guilty of killing Lucy.

  With Richard no longer a threat, as soon as Guy had seen Jane settled into her routine, he left to prepare for the lists. Jane found it so frustrating, this tendency of his to go tearing back to Windsor. How she wished the tourney would come and go quickly so they could get on with their lives together. She missed him desperately—her lover, her husband, her friend—and yearned for his loving to make her whole again.

  Misery, loneliness and despair roiled inside her. After the days of abstinence, she knew she wanted him again. Alone in her bed she shifted and turned, running her hand down her body in restless need. Indeed, she wanted nothing more than to let him do to her every wanton thing he’d done to her before.

  Recalling his anger over the rumours that had brought him hurrying back to Westminster, his accusation of casting him in the role of villain wrenched her heart. Guy was no villain. Though she had never accused him of being, in the past she had called him a devil, and she should have known better than to accuse him of such. In the next few seconds her emotions veered from hysterical panic to shaking rationality.

  She faced facts. She wanted to be with this man, so badly that she was shaken by it. She loved him with all her heart and soul—loved him because he was strong and scrupulous and passionate. Her bitterness and resentment caused by his attack on Richard, which had bruised her and she had allowed to fester, had been like a huge stumbling block. If only she’d had the courage to climb over it and look into her heart, she would have seen the truth of her love. At this realisation it was as though chains fell away from her and with them the resentment and bitterness that had possessed her ever since that day.

  Guy had known what Richard was like, what her life would have been like married to him, and he had cared for her enough to save her from that terrible fate. Now she knew that in the silent background, Guy had always been there for her. He had taken her to Rosemead and then to the court—always there, understanding her, ready to help. He had never let her down—not even on that dreadful night when Richard had died. He had been there, calming her, taking charge. It had been Guy’s strong arms that had held her, whose broad chest had pillowed her head, Guy who had completely understood her and the situation because he saw the unobstructed truth.

  No man would do those things for a woman unless he loved her. Ever since she had met him, she had unknowingly existed in the protective circle of his love. Why hadn’t she realised that he loved her? For no man would do what he had done for her unless he did.

  What a fool she had been. Guy was her life. He had told her he wanted the girl he had met in the woodland glade back.

  Oh, Guy. If you did but know it she is still here, still the same.

  She had to go to him, to tell him what was in her heart. They couldn’t leave it like this. She wanted to tell hi
m how much she loved him. To say that she was sorry. But she must wait until the lists.

  Three barges set off from the Palace of Westminster to travel up river to Windsor Castle, where the tournament was to be held. The prospect elicited great excitement among the courtly ladies and gentlemen. The king’s heralds had ridden far and wide, inviting courageous knights to participate. There would be knightly games—jousts and tilting and a final tourney for all contenders.

  The autumn weather was cold but dry. Seated in the back of the barge listening to the swish of the river and the dip and pull of the oars in the current, Jane was relieved when they arrived at Windsor. The common people flocked to see the royal procession. The castle was a majestic pile towering over meadows and the town, stretching along the big hill on which it was built.

  Some of the knights had arrived with their squires and some with their ladies some days ago, and were encamped below the walls in an assortment of multi-coloured tents. The light from the many fires glinted on armour and polished shields, turning them to shining gold. There was a festive feel about the crowds that gathered, with mummers and beggars, good-wives and children and whores in colourful array. The smell of meat roasting over charcoal fires permeated the air and vats of ale were being drunk.

  The royal party passed through the Castle Gate into the Lower Ward of the castle. With a patchwork of half-timbered buildings, it lacked the uniformity of the Upper Ward of the castle, which housed the royal apartments. But, with a diversity of buildings around it, the dazzling, magnificent St George’s Chapel, the final resting place of monarchs and knights of England past, dominated the Lower Ward.

  With the gusty wind blowing her cape around her like a tourniquet, Jane drew it tightly about her. With the interest to look around, she saw the castle was like a bustling town within the massive walls. Her gaze searched the faces for one in particular—she was disappointed Guy had not come to greet her, nor did he come to her that night.

  It was not until the following morning when she was walking to the field where the tournament was being held that she saw him with a group of knights drinking a last stirrup cup of spiced malmsey.

  On seeing Jane, Guy froze. The sight of her beauty dazzled his eyes. The colours of her gown were brilliant—a skirt of bright-green and an underskirt of rich turquoise, the skirts flaring from the high gold belt tied on her ribcage. Her high conical headdress sprouted a veil of tissue of gold from the peak that drifted down her back, and when she spread her arms, the big triangular sleeves were trimmed with beautiful embroidery in gold thread. She wore scarlet leather slippers on her feet.

  Placing his cup down, without so much as a glance at his companions, he excused himself.

  Jane watched him come towards her. Their eyes met and held for what seemed like an eternity, and she could feel the slow pounding of her heart as he seemed to stare into her very soul. She had once vowed never to open herself up to the pain of falling in love with him. Now she knew she had no choice in the matter. She understood her emotions more clearly now, though she couldn’t exactly say when her love had started to bloom, but it came upon her with a solid certainty that she had loved Guy for a long time without realising it.

  Suddenly she felt a flash of contrition. He needs me, she thought—and I need him very badly, and she knew it was time to set her hurt feelings aside.

  Sensing a change in her and a look in her eyes that gave him reason to hope, taking her hand Guy drew her behind a tent so they could not be observed.

  ‘I’m glad you are here,’ he said, forcing his intense gaze on her. ‘I wanted to speak to you before the tourney begins.’ He took in her attire, a smile tempting his lips. ‘You are beautiful. Every knight who rides on to the field will request your favour.’

  Feeling strangely nervous, she returned his smile. His blue eyes were hot as they took in the length of her body. ‘Then they will be disappointed. My favour is reserved for my husband.’ When they had parted some days ago, it had left her feeling abandoned and in despair. Now there was an energy and excitement moving through her. It took her a moment before she could compose herself enough to say, ‘Guy, I—I want to say I’m sorry.’

  He looked down at her and felt a lump in his throat at her earnest gaze. He took her hands in his own as he gazed at her. ‘For what reason are you sorry?’

  ‘For calling you a villain and a devil and so much more.’

  ‘Sweetheart, when I think what I put you through, I’m the one who should apologise.’ He sighed. ‘Was I insane to make you my wife, Jane?’

  Sick with failure, Jane dug her nails into the flesh of her palms and shook her head in denial. ‘It never had a chance to work because I wouldn’t let it. Will you forgive me for being so blind, so stupid—and proud?’

  ‘My darling …’ he chuckled softly ‘… you have added spice to my life that I would have found with no one else. How can I be angry with you for anything? I can only count myself fortunate that you share my life and will continue to do so until we are old and grey.’

  ‘It is my intention and my most heartfelt wish. You can’t possibly imagine how much I’ve missed you of late. I don’t think there’s been a night during our separation when I haven’t cried myself to sleep, worrying about everything that has happened.’

  ‘Hush, my love. We have been through all this. It is over.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I am ashamed of what I must have put you through. I should have listened to your explanation instead of shutting my ears.’

  ‘And I should have been more patient with you. You had a terrible shock.’

  ‘That’s all over now.’ Jane’s green eyes were shining with surrender and her voice shook. ‘I am yours, Guy, willingly.’

  Guy frowned, suspecting there was something she was holding back. His eyes met hers and he quietly asked, ‘Why, Jane? Why are you doing this? Tell me.’

  Jane knew Guy was going to require an unconditional surrender from her. She knew what he was demanding of her now. Through joy and tears and relief constricting her breath, she found her voice and softly said, ‘Because I love you, Guy. Very much—more than life itself.’

  Taking her hands, he dragged her into his embrace with stunning force. ‘God help you if you don’t mean it!’ he warned fiercely. ‘Because I swear to you, my darling, that I’ll never let you go.’

  Shamelessly yearning for his loving, Jane whispered, ‘Do you mean that? Because there were times—even when you made love to me—when I knew that I didn’t possess you completely. It made me wonder if there was a woman in the past who might have hurt you very badly.’

  His features tightened. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me who she was or what terrible deed she committed? Women always want to know everything.’

  ‘If you want to tell me, you will. You’ve done and seen so much in your life, and your reticence to give yourself to me completely prompted me to draw a conclusion. I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘You’re not.’ There was an edge of bitterness to his tone. ‘There was a woman—some years ago. Some of the women of the court at that time were reputedly the most beautiful and the most callous and ambitious in Europe.’

  ‘And the woman you fell in love with, was she beautiful and callous and ambitious?’

  ‘Isabel was all of that and treacherous into the bargain. She thrived on duplicity and deception.’

  The harshness of his voice told Jane that whatever had befallen him at that time had left scars. What treachery could so have hardened his heart? ‘What did she do that was so terrible?’

  ‘I adored her. I respected her innocence and proposed marriage—only to discover that she was no innocent. She was three months gone with child—her lover a man who had abandoned her for another. Like the callow youth I was, I would still have married her, but he came back and she made it clear that she wanted him in her bed, not me.’

  He paused to stare vacantly into space for several moments. Despising the woman who had hurt him so badly, Jane reached out to put
a hand on his arm and he looked down at it, covering it with his own before continuing.

  ‘To cut a long story short, I walked away and vowed that my emotions would never again be engaged by a woman—until I laid eyes on you that day in the woodland glade.’

  ‘Guy, I had no idea. I understand your cynicism, but it changes nothing between us.’

  ‘You are right,’ he said quietly, caressing her face with his eyes. ‘You are not Isabel.’

  ‘Then hold what we have in your memory and let us share this time we both hold dear.’

  ‘We have a lifetime to be together. But were I to spend every moment with you it would never be long enough. I love you, Jane. No man has the right to feel such joy.’

  ‘And I love you. I shall be very happy to prove I do mean it as soon as it is convenient. And—there is something else I should tell you,’ she added almost shyly.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I am with child, Guy. We are going to have a baby.’

  His eyes, not always so expressive, opened wide and seemed to melt with love for her. He reached out for her, then seemed uncertain.

  Jane laughed. ‘You can touch me. I will not break. In truth, I need you to hold me.’ He did, gathering her into his arms. ‘Are you happy?’ she asked softly, resting her cheek against his chest.

  ‘Overjoyed,’ he murmured. ‘I cannot tell you what this means to me. How long have you known.’

  ‘About two months.’

  ‘Two months!’ He held her away from him, his expression one of severe reproach. ‘Good God, woman! Had I know this when Aniston came to London I would have dragged you back to Cherriot.’

  ‘Which is precisely why I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from you. Windsor was bad enough, but Cherriot would have been miserable on my own. I know how much you want children …’

  He captured her face between his hands and stared fiercely into her eyes. ‘Not just any children, Jane. You are more to me than that. I want your children.’