The Chevalier

by Jacqueline Seewald

  There was dinner at the inn sometime later, but Madeline remembered little of it, nor did she manage to eat very much. There was a large choking lump caught in her throat.

  “I believe we will stay here one more night in honor of our marriage,” Gareth told her. “We’ll cross the border into England tomorrow. Very soon you’ll be seeing my home. I don’t really think of it that way. ‘Tis where I was raised, but it was never a true home.” She could hear the bitterness in his voice, yet still she did not speak. He glanced at her and then continued. “The estate will belong to Gwenda when she marries. I’m giving it all to my sister as her dowry. That ought to help attract a good young man. Once she’s happily wed, you and I will live at my estate in the lake country. If you think the Highlands are beautiful, you will find you love it even more there. A grand place to raise children is what it is,” he said with a smile, a boyish dimple winking in his right cheek.

  She could almost pretend to herself that he really cared for her at that moment. For once his expression was unguarded and he looked optimistic and affectionate. She wished that he would always talk to her this way, look at her this way.

  “I am sure it is quite lovely there.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “You haven’t touched your food? Are you ill?”

  She shook her head and lowered her eyes.

  “Still angry at me? You’ll soon be glad we were wed and realize it was for the best. You’re not as schooled in the ways of the world as you’d like to think, my girl, but I am. I’ve done what’s best for you.”

  “That was just what Roland said,” she responded wistfully. “Then he made me a prisoner.”

  “Come let’s go upstairs. You’ll feel better after a bit of rest.”

  He had left her alone since the night they’d been together at the old castle. Now he would expect his husbandly rights. He had tried to charm her, but she did not wish to be charmed. She did not want to be with him, not ever again. She was hurt, angry, confused and more than a little afraid. Why must everything always be on his terms? Just because he was bigger then she and could physically impose his will upon her? It seemed so wrong and unfair. She was growing weary of the tyranny of men.

  “Let us continue on. The day is not over and I have no desire to remain in Scotland.”

  At that remark, he smiled. “Is my bride acting the shy virgin or the coy mistress?”

  “Neither, I just think we might as well get on with our journey.”

  He let out a deep sigh of resignation. “Very well, my love, you see I am quite pliant to your will. I am already the henpecked husband. It shall be as you wish.”

  She was relieved that he had agreed for she did not want him making love to her this night. She was too sick at heart. She could not help remembering Maman’s warning regarding Gareth. If only she had really listened.

  Her coachman was less then pleased with the decision to continue on, but Gareth assured them that they would stop before the hour grew too late. They journeyed through the afternoon and evening. Madeline turned her back to Gareth and closed her eyes, resting against the luxurious velvet squabs of the coach interior. The emotional trauma of the day had taken its toll upon her and she soon fell asleep. In her dreams, Maman stood looking at her, features pale and disapproving.

  “You have not done as I told you, ma fille. You have dishonored your family, your noble blood and yourself. How could you give yourself to such a brute of a man? Were you not taught better? Where did I fail you?”

  She tried to protest, but Maman would not listen. Instead, she turned her back and walked off into the Highland mist. The next person to come toward her was her Papa. His eyes were grave and accusing.

  “The blood of kings runs in your veins, Madeline. You are a de Marnay. You have betrayed us all by behaving like a common tart.”

  She tried to deny what her father said but the words would not come out, and when she looked again, it was not her father’s face but that of Roland that she saw. “I used to love you, ma chere,” he said, “but I can no longer do so. You have shamed us all.”

  She could hardly stop crying now. She was near a great precipice and wished to throw herself from it. But then Andrew MacCarnan came upon her. “No, Madeline, you must not. I love you. But you’ve thrown away my love, and what for?” When she did not answer, he continued to speak, “For one who does not deserve you. I pity you, lass.”

  Now she could see Anne and Elizabeth and their eyes overflowed with tears of pity.

  “No!” she cried out. “No!”

  Someone was shaking her. Strong arms were about her.

  “Madeline, wake up.”

  “What?” She was completely disoriented.

  “You were having a bad dream I believe.”

  “Oh, yes, a terrible nightmare.”

  His arms were around her now, caressing her hair, pressing her to that wide, hard expanse of chest. She was shivering and perspiring at once, she realized. His large, callused hands comforted her.

  “It will be all right,” he whispered in her ear, and she was aware of the soft burr of his North-country accent which was as soothing as the Celtic inflection of the Highlands. He spoke to her kindly and gently just the way he had on the day when he found her crying over her mother’s grave. She remembered how she felt about him at that moment, as if he were her personal savior. She clung to him now as she had then, her softness pressed to his hardness.

  He seemed to understand her great need for his tenderness for he was kissing her now, the gentlest and kindest of kisses. He pulled her across his lap, and drew her up to him. The embrace seemed magical.

  “You are mine, and I will always take care of you,” he said. “Do not fear me. Remember when you sat on my lap before?”

  It seemed as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling, that he was capable of reading her every thought. His gaze was intense and mesmerizing. His eyes had darkened to the color of midnight. His hands moved gently over her body, sending fresh chills down her spine. He nibbled teasingly at her ear and then sought out the sensitive hollow of her neck as his hands pulled apart her cloak and sensuously cupped her breasts.

  “So magnificent,” he said in a soft, admiring voice.

  Her breasts felt incredibly sensitive to his touch as he gently lifted them from the confinement of her bodice. His hot mouth traveled to her nipples, licking, teasing, sucking until she moaned involuntarily from the pleasure he was creating within her.

  At that moment, the coach suddenly stopped and there was a rapping at the door. Gareth groaned inwardly. What bad timing, just when Madeline was responding to him so passionately and he was hard as granite.

  “Sir, ‘tis midnight and we’ve come into a town. There’s an inn still has lights on just ahead of us. Would you be wantin’ us to stop there?”

  Gareth was aware that the coachman’s voice sounded weary indeed. “Yes, we’ll stop here for the night,” he said. “And we won’t leave until well into the morning. Drive on, and make the accommodations for all of us. Our lady is most tired.”

  Madeline fixed the bodice of her gown in silence and when she had composed herself, Gareth lifted her into his arms and carried her from the coach.

  “You needn’t carry me,” she protested. “I’m quite capable of walking.”

  “You’re my bride,” he insisted. “This will be our first night together as husband and wife. I want to carry you to the room we’ll share.” He thought that she looked a little frightened but also a bit pleased.

  The accommodations proved adequate. There was a large, clean room, the best the landlord had to offer. Gareth soon discovered that Madeline really was very tired and thought it best to let her rest.

  He watched as she combed out her long ebon hair, as it cascaded down her back in glossy, luxurious waves. She looked then for some private place to undress, staring at him uneasily as if she wished to ask him to leave. But he had no desire to leave the room. He crossed his legs and leaned back negligen
tly against the doorjamb.

  “Undress in front of me, my love. I want to see your bounty.”

  He saw her cheeks flush crimson and thought how becoming such modesty was to her. He felt hot desire rush through his loins, although he willed himself to control it.

  “I am very worn from the traveling,” she told him.

  “Yes, of course, and I shan’t bother you ‘t all. I just want to see you for a moment if I may.”

  She nodded her head shyly. “I do not look the same as I did,” she told him in some embarrassment.

  “I shouldn’t think that you would,” he said with a reassuring smile.

  As she slowly removed each article of clothing, he found himself intoxicated by the glow of her perfect, milky skin. The enlargement of her breasts and thickening of her waist did not make her less attractive in his eyes. He thought her lush yet ethereal and had a devil of a time controlling his aroused flesh which seemed to have a will of its own. As she slipped on a simple white night-rail that contrasted perfectly with the black locks of her hair, he was so overcome that he knew he could not be in the same room with her and avoid taking her into his arms.

  “I’ll let you rest if that’s what you really want,” he said in a tight voice.

  She nodded her assent, slipping under the covers, and he quickly walked out of the room into the hall. He was grateful that no one else was around to see him at that moment as it might have proved an embarrassment. After a few minutes, he comported himself enough to walk downstairs and order a pint at the bar. The men there were convivial, most of them already in their cups. Gareth thought that was what he ought to do as well, but he was not much of a drinking man by nature. Drinking was just another way in which men lost control and escaped reality. He would always strive to exercise restraint if possible. So he nursed his pint for quite a while and then slowly put away a second.

  By that time he was certain that Madeline would be asleep. He was also more relaxed and decided he could slip into bed beside her and get some sleep himself. When he got upstairs, it was just as he thought. Her eyes were closed; the dark, thick lashes spread over her cheeks, her ebon locks in luxuriant disarray on the white linen of her pillow. Her features were at peace, and in the high-necked gown, she looked very much like an innocent and trusting child.

  Gareth threw a log on the fire before retiring. He undressed quickly and went under the covers beside her, scrupulously avoiding the touch of his body against hers. That would have been more than he could tolerate. He lay on his side, his back turned to her and closed his eyes. But sleep did not come for a long time. There was too much tension in his body, too much need for her. They had never slept together for a night and desire was hot and strong within him. It was nearly dawn before he could control the feelings that stirred him.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  In her sleep, Madeline felt strong arms holding her, callused hands caressing her body. She smiled and moved closer to this source of warmth and comfort, molding her body against the wonderful sensation. Those strong hands were stroking her breasts and then kneading the soft underside of her thighs. She moaned in her sleep, feeling such overwhelming pleasure that she could scarcely stand it, and then as the touch delved into her softness, she woke crying out from the immense pleasure as wave upon wave of ecstasy rocked her to the core.

  It was Gareth, she realized, looking over at him. The morning sunlight from the window caught in his hair and made him shine like a golden god.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. “I just wanted to hold you, to touch you. It’s hard to sleep with you so near and not have you.”

  She could not speak just then. His hands were about her, his naked body pressing hotly against hers. She felt his fingers touching and moving into her most private recesses.

  “Oh, yes, you’re so moist, so ready for me, love.”

  She felt the pressure of his erection against her lower belly. With a trembling hand, she reached out and touched it, taking pleasure in its throbbing power and the smooth velvety feel. He groaned with delight. In an instant, he slipped himself into her and began thrusting in a way that only served to renew her pleasure. Her hands and mouth were all over him. She had a desire to explore each and every part of his magnificent body, just as he was doing to her. She completely abandoned herself to the wildness of her passion. It was an elemental mating, hard, hot, hungry, and before it ended, they were both taken to the heights of a revelation neither had ever before imagined possible. She neither saw, nor heard, nor breathed. It was beyond ecstasy. Gareth finally fell upon her breast, panting and completely sated. As for herself, she melted in his arms like a burning candle.

  “I did not think myself capable of such feeling,” he said at length. “You are the most intoxicating female I have ever known. Such passion. You give everything. We are very well suited in bed, my love.”

  She knew that Gareth meant this as the greatest of compliments and that she should take it that way, and yet it made her feel terribly sad. All of a sudden, she could not contain herself and she began to cry. She knew that what was between them was not right, for it had nothing to do with love or caring. For a moment last night, she had almost imagined that he did love her. But she knew with a painful certainty now that all he ever felt for her was lust. Perhaps he was not capable of any real feeling for a woman. If only she could have a husband who did truly love her! To be condemned to a marriage without love, to her, seemed worse than no marriage at all. The pain was too great; she cried inconsolably.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Gareth stared down at the beautiful girl lying in the bed as he would a stranger. He had no idea why she was crying, only that she seemed truly miserable. Obviously, she was unhappy with his lovemaking for whatever reason. He felt hurt and withdrew into himself. Quickly dressing, he stiffened his spine and turned to her.

  “I will see to your breakfast. Perhaps, we might be on the road by noon?” For a moment he was caught by the quicksilver of her eyes. He never knew what to expect with Madeline; she was so mercurial in her moods. Would he ever know any peace with such a wife?

  Madeline did not answer but shook her head in misery, turning her eyes from her husband. “I will be ready whenever you wish.” She heard the door to the room slam hard and loud behind him and her sobbing continued.

  Twenty-Four

  Madeline’s first impression of Gareth’s estate was one of spaciousness. She liked the open country and the gently rolling hills. The land was a lush green in the golden light of early autumn. With the flocks of sheep and the small cottages of farmers dotting the landscape, Madeline with her artist’s eye, thought that it was a magnificent pastoral scene just waiting to be painted in watercolor.

  The house was considerably nicer and larger then she had expected as well. The park was well-tended, and the landscaping manicured with care. Her first impression on seeing the interior of the house was that it was comfortable and well-maintained, without being ostentatious. The oak paneling impressed her; the balustrades were formed of flowing scrolls of acanthus. From the foyer, Gareth led her into a sunny drawing room with highly polished mahogany doors and a fireplace made of marble and inlaid in a dainty but aesthetic fashion. Over the mantle hung the portrait of a strikingly beautiful blond woman with brilliant blue eyes. It was easy to see the resemblance of the young woman to Gareth. Madeline thought to ask about the portrait, but then decided that it might be best to wait. This hardly seemed the proper time to ask questions of her new husband.

  She wondered if Gareth’s younger sister could be responsible for the fine maintenance of the estate, for she knew as a soldier that he could rarely have been around enough to keep things in such good order. She found herself curious about Gwenda Eriksen, wondering just what sort of girl her new sister-in-law would be. Could the portrait over the mantle be of Gareth’s sister?

  She was not to wait long to find out. As soon as they were through the door, the old butler, Yarber, went to find his mistress. Madeline decided t
hat Gareth could not be too hard-hearted if he kept Yarber as a butler; the old man seemed quite feeble and his hearing none too good.

  Two women walked into the drawing room following Yarber. Gareth greeted the younger one with a smile and she in turn hurled herself into his arms and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. He and the older woman merely exchanged a grave nod. Madeline surveyed both women thoughtfully. The younger was somewhat more youthful than herself, although her appearance at first glance was misleading. She was extremely tall, nearly as tall as Gareth; Madeline judged the girl to be around six feet. In fact, Madeline had never met such a large female before. She was also not very thin as tall girls were wont to be, but had a full bosom and rounded hips that made her look more mature than she was. But the face was young and very pretty. The eyes were as blue as Gareth’s but more topaz than sky blue and her hair was a dark honey blond rather than the flaxen color of his. She was not so fair as her brother was but her beauty was striking.

  Madeline looked at the older woman in turn but had no idea whom she could be except possibly a governess or companion of sorts. Her gown, although well-cut, was plain in the extreme. Also, the older woman had rather a stern, forbidding countenance at first glance. Her hair was dark brown but streaks of gray were evident and it was pulled back from her nearly unlined face to form a severe bun at the nape of her slender neck. She was thin and flat-chested.

  The two women, in turn, stared at her with as much avid interest and curiosity as she displayed toward them. Gareth took her hand and brought her toward them.