“Today? He allowed you to stay until the very day I was to arrive?” She clucked her tongue in mock sympathy and shook her head sadly. “That is shameful. Do you need help getting your things packed, a place to stay? I can help you in any way you need.”
She forced a smile as anger blossomed across Rebeka’s reddening face.
“I don’t need anything from you. I will be well taken care of, in all ways, by Peter. I may not be allowed to stay here, but Peter will not turn his back on me. Look at you, you are a giant.”
“Rebeka, that is enough.” Peter’s stern voice rang across the hallway, but Rebeka’s words continued to pour from her.
Rebeka was near tears, but her tirade continued unbidden. “How do you hope to satisfy a man like Peter?”
Peter grasped her arm. “Stop now, Rebeka.”
Rebeka jerked her arm away, but did not step away from Peter’s side.
Van twisted her hands into fists but stood calmly as she listened to Rebeka’s shaky voice. She could hear the fear beneath the words and that pleased her
“He is not interested in a woman like you. He will be lucky if he is capable of rising to take care of you, and he will come running back to me.”
Rage swarmed through Van at the thought of losing Peter, to this woman, or any other. The anger scared her, because she had not expected the fear that came with it.
“He likes his women small, large bosomed, and fair skinned. How do you—”
Peter reached once more for his wayward leman, but Van’s temper snapped before he could reach her. She grasped Rebeka’s arm in a vice-like grip, stopping her words as she ripped her from Peter’s side. She held her tightly with one arm around her narrow shoulders. Van ran her fingers down Rebeka’s trembling cheek, wrapped them tightly around her long slender neck. She tightened her grip on Rebeka’s throat until her eyes bulged in fear and she began to struggle.
Van glanced at Peter who stood with his mouth slightly agape, staring at her as she let go of his mistress’s throat and slid her fingertip into the low cut dress to gently caress the rounded swell of Rebeka’s breast. She looked back down at the small trembling blonde. “You are beautiful. I will give you that. If I were in the market for a leman, I would choose one that was as small and as well endowed. I can see nearly to your feet from up here, as low-cut as your dress is. It is quite fetching.”
Peter shook his head. Van watched as the shock seemed to disappear and the anger spread across his features. He stepped forward quickly. “Vanessa, let her go. Now.”
Amy rushed around the corner and grasped Van’s arm. “Milady—Milady—My—Vanessa! Vanessa, let her go. What are you thinking?” She pulled helplessly at her. “Remember who you are now! Van!”
“Get your damned hands off me!” Van barked through clenched teeth as she violently ripped her arm free of the nuisance that pulled at it.
Released suddenly, Rebeka fell into Peter, who was forced to catch her. Amy took a step away with a look of fear on her face that caused guilt to slap at Van, refusing to be ignored.
Anger quickly made way for black rage as Van fought to keep herself from losing total control. She had never felt so helpless in her life. Emotions collided upon her like waves of a violent ocean storm. She felt trapped and alone. The ground beneath her seemed to suck at her feet, trapping her as the waves crashed into her again and again.
She saw one of her men in the halls not far away. “Devon, here,” she yelled in a voice that was far too deep. She prayed that no one noticed. She took a deep breath and turned her attention back to the terrified leman. The woman shuddered and stepped closer into Peter.
Peter stepped half around Rebeka to protect her from another attack. “Vanessa. Stop.”
Van ignored him and spoke around him, once more in control of her voice. “I may not be what Peter wants, but no matter how many times he takes you instead of me, I can give him the one thing you will never be able to: an heir.”
She noted the sharp intake of breath and the devastated look on Rebeka’s face and knew she had struck a sour nerve with the woman. She turned her attention to Devon as he walked up to them confused.
“Aye, my lady?” Devon looked closely at her.
“Miss Rebeka is going to be joining us for supper tonight to help celebrate our marriage, then in the morning I want you to find a couple of men to help her pack and to make sure she has decent housing arrangements made for her. We will be taking care of her for two months.” She put two fingers up. They trembled slightly so she dropped her hand quickly. With that she turned to leave, only to be stopped by fingers painfully digging into her arm.
“How did you know his name?” Peter snarled.
Her eyes widened as she realized that in her anger she had made a huge mistake. She had not been introduced to any of the men except for Grant.
“I told her, milord.” Amy smiled shyly at Devon, as he slightly blushed. “Devon and I met earlier in the day while you were out on your lands. I pointed him out when she returned.”
“Everyone will leave us now.” Peter ordered. He waited until the three were out of earshot before turning his enraged face toward her. “What in the Devil’s name did you think you were doing?”
She had stood calmly, waiting until they were alone. Now she ripped her arm free from his grasp. “I was taking care of things the way you should have. How dare you wait until the very day that I was to be here before asking your whore to leave? You should have more consideration than that, since I have been told we have been married for several weeks now.” Her breathing was shallow and painful. The world spun around her and faded out of focus. His face doubled and then snapped back together as her heart raced.
“It is bad enough that I have been married to a man that doesn’t like me, but I will not suffer through having mistresses thrown at me like I am some second woman. I do not need to be reminded that I am not what a man desires.”
With that she was gone and he had been so dumbfounded by her response that he did not even try to stop her.
Not desire her? My God, he had taken her and had wanted to again. Did that not stand for proof of his desire? How could she not know? Guilt stabbed deeply at his heart and twisted the blade over and over. She had been untouched by a man. How could she know what desire was or how to see it? He had done what he hadn’t wanted to do and that was to hurt her.
He had seen the pain in her eyes when Rebeka was holding him. He didn’t want to hurt her, although, he didn’t know how to break her, and turn her into the wife he had always promised himself he would have, without hurting her.
CHAPTER 9
Peter stood staring at the emptiness left by his rebellious wife. It was more than an empty space in the hallway and it seemed to be spreading. Thin fingers of cold slithered over him and left a void that he could not understand.
A deep breath shuddered through his frame, but it did nothing to release the tension that cramped his muscles. Regret over the way he had treated his wife cloaked him like a shroud, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
Images of his mother plagued his tired mind. His father doted on her, allowing her to come and go as she pleased, allowing her to do as she pleased. He knew his father was hoping to win her love, but he had been wrong. Peter knew in his heart that if his father had enforced more control over her, she never would have left. Peter had no intention of making the same mistake.
He trudged to the dining hall in no mood to face the crowded room. It would be packed to celebrate his joyous day. What he wanted most was to retire to his room and hide.
By the time he stepped through the archway into the loud and overly crowded room, he had resigned himself to the celebration. He wanted to eat quickly and get it over with. These big gatherings did not engage his interest for long. They never had.
His gaze scanned the room, taking in his men, both those that had been with him for years and those who had recently joined his ranks. Among those who had just joined were the men of the Dark Kni
ght. Peter scowled and wondered where the high-spirited knight had disappeared to.
His scrutinizing gaze sought out the Dark Knight’s first in command. Richard Devenroe sat at the head table where he had sat three years ago before joining with Van Burgess.
Richard had sent scouts out to look for Van, but they had all returned empty handed. Peter’s eyes continued across the head table as he pondered on the disappearance of the knight.
He glanced at his chair at the head of the main table. His gaze drifted to the right of his seat and came to a stop where his wife should be sitting. To his shock and dismay Rebeka sat there instead. A trencher of food was already sitting before her, waiting for him to come and share it with her as he had since she had become his leman two years before. His breath lodged in his throat as his airway constricted.
He forced in a deep inhale and looked to the left of his seat. There sat Vanessa. Her head was held high and her spine was rigid. She was a beautiful sight in the soft blue gown with its puffy sleeves that stopped before her elbows.
Peter released the breath with a shudder. Tension cramped his shoulders and neck once more. Unsure of his next actions, he motioned for Grant, who appeared about to share a trencher with Vanessa.
Grant nodded and rose. He bowed to Vanessa with a nervous smile and walked toward Peter. Peter shook as he fought against the rumbling emotions that boiled uncontrolled within him.
Grant looked to be very uncomfortable. “Aye, my Lord.”
“What are you thinking? How dare you allow the seating arrangement that is taking place? Do you intend to share food with my bride?” Peter shot off the questions rapidly without giving Grant time to answer any of them.
Grant shook his head as Peter spoke.
Peter took a deep breath and forced himself to wait. Grant sighed and shook his head once again. He looked at the two women as he spoke. “My Liege, it was not my doing. Miss Constance sat herself down and before I could tell her to move, Lady Vanessa arrived and placed herself on the bench beside me.”
Peter glanced over at his wife. Vanessa had not moved a muscle from what he could tell. She stared straight ahead with a blank expression on her face. He could hear Grant speaking in the background, but he was having trouble focusing on anything but his beautiful bride.
“Your new bride announced that you would be arriving within the moment and ordered the food to be brought.”
Peter glanced back at Grant who stood staring at Vanessa with an intense look that Peter could not discern. He felt a rush of jealously that surprised him. He was not a jealous man.
Grant looked back to him and continued, “I was not sure at first that she understood what was happening, but then she tells me she will be sharing my food if I do not mind, and if I do, she will go and sit with the other men. She said she was sure that she would be welcomed there. I did not doubt her. What would you have had me do?”
“I would have had you move her to where she belongs,” Peter grunted in exasperation. He could think of no way out of this situation, short of making a dreadful scene in front of everyone and he was not quite willing to do that.
Grant held a look of worry that left Peter feeling unsettled. He looked closely at Peter and said quietly, “I think they will both create an uproar if you try to move either one of them. I tried to talk Lady Vanessa into moving. She growled at me. Growled at me, my liege. She knows where she is supposed to be and there are already murmurs going through the guests about the seating. They are not sure what to think, but it has been noticed.”
Peter closed his eyes, hoping it would all be gone when he opened them. He opened his eyes slightly and peeked out. Everything was still as it had been. “Well, hell.”
“Excuse me, my liege?” Grant asked.
Peter opened his eyes fully and shook his head as frustration pounded at the sides of his temples, creating a resounding headache. “I know they will make a scene. I just need to get through this one night and then Rebeka will be gone in the morning.”
“I don’t think that one will go easily, my lord.”
Peter looked over at the small blonde who glared at the new lady of the castle as he considered his friend’s words.
He shook his head as he watched the two women at his head table. Rebeka turned back to Vanessa and scowled furiously, but was completely ignored. He chuckled, turning back to his lifelong friend. “Oh, nay, Grant. Rebeka will leave. Lady Vanessa made that perfectly clear to her. Even assigned some of my men to help her along the way. Get with Devon. He is in charge of seeing to her comfort.” Peter waved away the shocked expression on Grant’s face and made his way toward what he hoped would not be a complete disaster.
“My lady,” He bowed politely to his wife and ignored his leman altogether. He would eat with his wife. It did not matter which side of him she sat on. He would not make a big stir, but he would make sure all knew who his choice was. It was not a wonderful plan. Hell, it was not even a good one, but it was one that would have to suffice, and one that would dissuade all doubts and rumors without disrupting the entire celebration.
Peter glanced around the head table. It was filled with his higher ranked men-at-arms. They fidgeted uncomfortably as their gaze darted between Peter and the two women.
Peter nodded to the table in general and turned to Vanessa. Every man at the table seemed to relax. They turned without question to share with the person on their left instead of their right, as was custom.
“Looks like I get to share with you, my dear.” Richard said quietly to Rebeka and slid his trencher of stew toward her.
“I will not share with you. You are only up here, because Peter knows your men will not listen to him yet. When they do, you will lose all your power,” Rebeka snarled and pushed his trencher away from her.
It slammed into Richard’s goblet spilling it across the table. Peter spun his head around to her. He opened his mouth to tell her to leave, but Richard spoke first. His soft voice sounded deadly in the silent room.
“No matter what his reasoning, I am here because it was requested that I be here. Unlike you, who have no business being here at all.” Richard sat his goblet back up and pulled his food close in front of him. He stabbed a slice of beef with his dagger and started ignoring her. Peter smiled and relaxed when the other men followed suit.
It was not much of a celebration at the beginning. All the guests were silent as they glanced at Rebeka. Anger flourished within Peter as he glared at his mistress. She sat stiffly, without eating or drinking.
The guests partook of wine and ale and quickly seemed to forget the extra woman at the head table. The laughter and talk spread throughout the large dining hall. Peter smiled sweetly and turned his full attention to Vanessa. He placed his hand on her trembling arm. She looked up at him in surprise.
He laughed gently and caressed her arm. He did not dislike her and he wanted no misunderstandings. He would accept nothing less than obedience, but he did like her. He opened his mouth, but was unsure of what to say to reassure her.
Several drunken people stood at once, interrupting Peter. He closed his mouth and grinned. He turned to them as they began to give their congratulations to the new couple.
It did not take long, with the wine flowing abundantly, for the good wishes to turn to lewd advice. Within moments the celebration had gotten loud and the ruckus was starting to disrupt the tables.
Rebeka stood and slipped away from the table. She quietly joined the ranks of the drunken soldiers. Most of the men at the head table were well into their cups and did not seem to take notice when she left.
Peter noticed, for he had drunk little. He wanted to show Vanessa pleasure, and he had enough trouble controlling himself when it came to her without being encumbered by drink.
Van took notice as Rebeka slinked off into the crowd. Van had drunk nothing. She had never drunk more than a few mouthfuls of anything other than watered down ale. She had never been in a position where she could relax her guard. When she was the Dark
Knight, she could not risk compromising herself and she had the same fears now. She had no idea how alcohol would affect her, but knowing it made most men loose of lips, she had never pushed fate.
“Relax, my dear.” Peter’s voice pulled her thoughts away from the Dark Knight. She turned to him with a forced smile. “All will be well,” he continued. “I will show you. This union has not started off at the best pace, but we can make something work out of it.” He slid his hand down her arm and took her hand. Shocked at the jolt of heat that raced through her fingers and arm she stared down at it.
“Get on with the bedding. We have had our fill of food and drink, get on with the entertainment,” the drunken man shouted above the noisy room.
Van jerked her head up as cheers erupted through the crowd. Rank comments and lewd suggestions followed.
She smiled. This was part of why she missed the life of a knight. It was rare that a woman of any ranking got to see this side of men. She glanced across the room at the maids and whores who lounged across the laps of the men. She smiled at her men, but it concerned her to see them separated from Peter’s men.
Van looked toward Peter. He sat staring intently at her.
He was surprised, and a little irritated, by his bride. She did not seem in the least ruffled by the graphic language. She should blush and act the part of the innocent young girl that he knew her to be.
He looked at the young boy who had loudly insisted on the bedding. Christopher Dalton had been a foot soldier in Peter’s army for less than a year. Rebeka stood next to him with a satisfied grin. Peter knew she had planted the seed in his head and left the shouting to him. Peter was shocked to see this vindictive side of her.
He pushed her from his mind and stood holding out his hands. “That is not a possibility,” he shouted over the commotion. “I am sorry for the lack of entertainment, but the marriage has already been consummated.” He held his hands higher as an uproar echoed through the hall.
“You cannot have. She cannot excite you.” Rebeka raced toward him, stumbling over the crowding men as her voice rose to a fevered pitch. “Not the way that I do.”
The Dark Lady Page 15