Border Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Aye,” she replied after a moment.

  His smile grew. “I realize that we have not had the most pleasant of associations up until now,” he said quietly. “I suppose I am to blame for some of that, but there is something I wish to say to you. Even though I promised Robert I would take care of you, please know that I do not view this marriage as an inconvenience. I view it as a new hope. Please know that I will do everything in my power to make you happy and comfortable and safe, and I swear that I shall be faithful only unto you. You will be my wife and my loyalty, both emotionally and physically, shall belong to you. I hope that you will treat it with respect.”

  They were surprisingly deep words but Diamantha was torn by them. She and Robert had been exceedingly faithful to each other so she knew of no other way. She was glad to hear that Cortez, too, shared that view. Given the women in the past that she knew of who had thrown themselves at him, she was relieved by it. Still, it sounded to her as if he was perhaps asking for something more than that, something she wasn’t yet ready to give. It seemed to her that he was also asking for her affection. She found she couldn’t look into that hopeful, eager face.

  “Of course I will,” she replied, averting her gaze. “You will have my loyalty as well, in all things. But… but this marriage is simply an agreement between us. It is something I am being told to do and I shall do it. When you speak of new hope, I do not know how to answer you. What is it that you hope for?”

  Cortez had to remind himself yet again that she was still grieving. Her loss was so new; his was years old. Still, his impatience had the better of him. “I would hope for a pleasant marriage,” he said. “I would hope that someday you will cease to view me as a contract and begin viewing me as your husband. I would hope that someday we will grow to like each other, mayhap even enjoy one another. I would also hope that you shall bear me strong sons one day, sons we will both be proud of. I hope that one day you shall be able to refer to me as your husband and be pleased with the fact. These are the things I hope for, my lady. I do not believe they are too unreasonable.”

  Diamantha lifted her eyes to look at him, seeing that the eagerness, so prevalent in his expression earlier, was now restrained because she was so reserved. She realized that he could sense her hesitation and was reacting accordingly. Everything was still so uncertain in her heart and mind, and she simply couldn’t bring herself to agree with him. Every time she closed her eyes or drew a breath, all she could see was Robert. It was like a stab to the gut.

  “It is not unreasonable,” she said, feeling her composure slip, “but until my husband is located and until I have reconciled myself to the fact he is truly dead and in his grave, I cannot… I simply cannot….”

  She trailed off, hanging her head and biting her lip to keep from weeping. Cortez watched her lowered head, feeling a tug at his heart. “You loved him,” he whispered.

  It was a statement, not a question. Diamantha nodded firmly. “I did,” she murmured tightly. “I do. I still do.”

  Cortez sighed faintly. “I know how you feel.”

  Her head came up, the mesmerizing eyes swimming with tears. “You loved Helene?”

  He nodded. “I did,” he said softly. “As you said, she was a sweet and gentle creature. There was much to love.”

  Diamantha’s lower lip trembled and the tears spilled over. “How… how long before you did not wake up every morning with the pangs of grief twisting your stomach?”

  His gaze lingered on her a moment before he moved, slowly, in her direction. “It took some time,” he said honestly. “But I can promise you that one day you will wake up and the pain will be less. Every day will see it diminish slightly until all that is left is a warm and bittersweet memory.”

  She wiped furiously at her eyes. “I am not sure I want it to ever go away,” she said. “I do not want it taken from me. It is mine, a reminder of the love we shared.”

  He came to within a foot or so, pausing as he studied her intently. “No one wants to take it from you, Lady Edlington, least of all me.”

  Her head came up, her eyes accusing. “Aye, you do,” she said. “You have come to marry me and wipe the man from my memory.”

  He shook his head. “I never said that,” he insisted softly. “I would never try to erase the man’s memory.”

  Diamantha studied his sincere expression. “Your actions versus your words tell me differently,” she said, somewhat bitterly. “Tell me something, de Bretagne; if the situation were reversed and it was Helene dead only three months, how would you feel if someone had come to marry you so soon after your wife had died? How would you have felt?”

  He locked gazes with her, feeling on the defensive with the question because he knew what his answer would be. But he could not lie to her; it was not in his nature. Furthermore, if he wished to establish a trusting relationship with her, it had to start somewhere. Let it start here.

  “Three months after my wife’s death, I was barely able to function,” he said truthfully. “Therefore, I would not have been receptive to a marriage proposal. I more than likely would have run the messenger through.”

  His honestly was gratifying. “I will not run you through, but you must understand that this is simply something I am not ready for,” she told him, her tears fading because the subject was growing seriously. She could see that Cortez was coming to understand her position completely. “I have heard you say that I am not ready but I do not think you truly believe it. I will still marry you this morning but you must give me time to come to terms with everything. You cannot force me into acceptance, de Bretagne. Much like you after the death of Helene, I am still very much grieving Robert’s loss. It is my right to be allowed to do so. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  After a moment, he nodded faintly. “I do,” he confirmed. “I am sorry if you have felt forced into this situation before you were ready, but I know of no other way. You are to be my wife and I see no reason to wait.”

  He only sees his wants, Diamantha thought. It occurred to her that whether or not he truly understood her position, what he wanted mattered more. But she could also see something else; it wasn’t that he was being selfish about it. It was simply the way his mind worked. His desires came before anything else. De Bretagne was a spoiled man. With a sigh, perhaps one of resignation, she turned away.

  “As I said, I will marry you this morning,” she said. “As for the rest… you must be patient, sir. Anything else might result in something neither of us would like.”

  He watched her as she moved away from him, putting space between them. “I will be as patient as is reasonably expected.”

  Diamantha came to a halt and faced him. She sensed something stubborn in that statement and it was time to return the volley and establish lines. He had to know that she wasn’t going to let him push her around because it wasn’t in her nature to be pushed.

  “As I have seen, your ability to be patient leaves something to be desired,” she said. “You will listen to me now so there is no mistake. I will marry you this morning and then we shall proceed north. If you try, in any way, to prevent me from going with you, know that I shall follow you. I shall hire guides and escorts, in any matter I deem necessary, to follow your path into Scotland. You cannot stop me short of locking me in the vault, and even if you do that, know that I will escape and I will continue my pursuit of you. This is my quest too, de Bretagne. You cannot take that from me.”

  He believed every word she said, causing him to quickly re-think his strategy of marrying her and ordering her to remain behind. He had no doubt she would do what she said so he made the decision at that moment. Would it be worth a lifetime of a hate-filled marriage for him to force her to remain behind, a battle with no end, or would it be better for them all if he would simply allow her to go with him on his quest north? If he did, it would be a journey that could hopefully build trust and even the fondness he spoke of earlier. It would be something they could do together and therefore build together. A
s much as he didn’t want her along, he was coming to think it was the wiser choice, for certainly, the alternative was bleak. After several pensive moments, he finally nodded his head.

  “Very well,” he said. “If you truly wish to accompany me, I will not stop you. But we will come to an agreement here and now. You will do everything I tell you. You will not argue with me and you will not disobey. If any of these terms are not met, I will leave you at the nearest castle and tell them to lock you in the vault until I return for you. Know that I do not threaten and I do not jest. I am as serious as death and twice as final. Is this in any way unclear?”

  Diamantha only cared about the fact that he had agreed to let her go. She would have agreed to anything at that point. “It is perfectly clear.”

  His gaze lingered on her. Something told him that it wasn’t as clear to her as it was to him. Time would tell. He broke away from her and moved to the small table beside his cot that held the water bowl. It also contained the pretty painted box with the silver collar inside, the one Diamantha had thrown so angrily onto the mattress earlier that evening. Picking it up, he opened the box and pulled forth the heavy silver necklace as he turned in her direction.

  “I apologize that I am unprepared with a wedding ring, as I did not expect to marry you so soon,” he said, holding out the necklace to her as if making an offering to an angry god. “Would you please accept this necklace as a token of my respect for the event of our marriage? I will purchase a ring for you as soon as I can, but until then, I would be very pleased if you would accept the necklace. Please, my lady?”

  Diamantha eyed the beautiful piece. Her initial reaction was that she still thought he was trying to buy a bride with such a gift, but it didn’t matter any longer. She’d already agreed to marry him so her refusal was baseless. Reluctantly, she reached out to take it and in silence, she put it around her neck. It was so big and cumbersome that she needed help fastening it, which Cortez gladly did. As it settled against her chest, she couldn’t help but admire it.

  “It is a very lovely piece,” she said. “I remember seeing Helene wear it.”

  Cortez watched the glittering silver cross against her breast, mesmerized. “It was her favorite piece,” he said. “Before her, it had belonged to my mother. It has been much loved.”

  “Then I shall handle it with the greatest of care.”

  He pulled his gaze from the stones, looking her in the eye. “You would treat her jewelry with the greatest of care,” he said softly. “But I wonder how you would treat her husband?”

  Diamantha held his gaze. “I suppose we shall soon find out.”

  Cortez didn’t take much comfort from that statement.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In the swirling mists of the early morning, Cortez and Diamantha made their way to the church directly across from the gatehouse of Corfe, alone. He wanted to get it over with and she didn’t want any close witnesses, so they journeyed to the church without any entourage or retainers. It was just the two of them, traipsing through the fog and damp.

  The village of Corfe was crowded around the southern end of the castle, waddle and daub huts that were clustered tightly together like a herd of lonely sheep. St. Edward the Martyr’s church was literally across the road from the main entrance to the castle, a rather large cathedral that had been there in some form long before the Normans came.

  It was into this cavernous church that Cortez and Diamantha had proceeded. It smelled like wet earth and incense, a strange and acrid smell. Cortez remembered the church from Robert’s funeral mass, when it had been packed with knights who had fought with Robert Edlington at one time or another. The man had been well-liked. In a massive hall that had once intoned the utterings of Edlington’s death, now it was witness to the marriage of Edlington’s widow to the man who had left Edlington to die. At least, that’s how Cortez viewed it in ironic reflection. Those were the facts.

  He wondered if the priests knew the facts, too, from the way they looked at him. They had been more than happy to perform the marriage sacrament at Diamantha’s request and, because they knew her, three of them shared the duties of the liturgy. They also eyed Cortez with some suspicion, not knowing who he was and seemingly protective over the lady of their castle. Cortez took it all in stride but the wariness of his presence lingered, even when the priest made the last sacrament and bade Cortez to kiss his bride. Cortez did, on the cheek, only because he swore those priests were shooting daggers at him with their eyes. After that, he was impatient to leave.

  The priests carefully recorded the marriage in their big book of events, much as they recorded the births and deaths of the town as well. Anything of note that happened at Corfe was recorded. Since the mass had been witnessed by three priests, all three signed the book with their marks and presented Cortez with a stamped sheet of vellum that legitimized the marriage. Once Cortez had that certificate in his hand, he paid the priests well, took Diamantha by the hand, and practically pulled her out of the church. He had a mission to accomplish and he was ready to get on with it. He was ready to move forward with his new wife and get away from the church where the priests were eyeing him as if he were stealing the lady away from them. He was coming to feel like a thief.

  Diamantha had been oddly silent throughout the event; at that point, Cortez was grateful for small mercies. At least she wasn’t weeping, which had had expected. She seemed rather stunned by it all and had lapsed into uncharacteristic silence. He wondered how long it was going to last. By the time they entered the gatehouse of Corfe and headed into the massive lower bailey, the fog was lifting somewhat as the sun began to rise. Cortez could see his men gathered for travel, with tents packed and fires doused. His two knights were on horseback, spurring their heavy-boned coursers along the group and making sure everyone was prepared to depart. Cortez’s hand was still on Diamantha’s arm as they headed towards his men.

  “Since you are already in traveling clothes, I will assume you are packed and ready to depart,” he said. “Where are your possessions?”

  Diamantha seemed to be staring off into the distance, as if seeing things that were no longer there. Perhaps she was seeing her life past, with Robert, something that was now gone. There was a new, uncertain life in its place. In any case, she snapped out of whatever trance she was in when Cortez spoke to her.

  “Everything is in the keep,” she told him. “Will you have my horse brought forth while I go inside to retrieve my belongings?”

  Cortez’s hand dropped from her arm. “It would be my pleasure,” he said. “Do you require any other assistance?”

  She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “I would suppose we are traveling lightly so I am not bringing anything heavier than what can be carried upon the back of a horse.”

  He was rather pleased by that statement. A sensible woman, he thought. If she was forcing him to take her, then at least she was being reasonable about it.

  “Very well,” he said. “I will await you by the upper gatehouse.”

  Diamantha nodded her head and moved away from him, heading up the wet incline of Corfe’s enormous outer ward on her way to the inner gatehouse. Cortez couldn’t help but notice that she hadn’t made eye contact with him in any fashion since they’d left the church, not even in this brief conversation. She seemed preoccupied and sad. Not that he blamed her, but he couldn’t worry about that now. What was done was done, and she would have to accept it. They were now married.

  Turning for his men, now grouped and prepared to leave, he went about final preparations as he awaited his wife to rejoin him. With a lingering glance over his shoulder at Diamantha’s dark blue form as she disappeared through the upper gatehouse, he wondered if he shouldn’t go with her. He was rather wary of letting her out of his sight considering what had gone on between them in the past. The last thing he needed was her changing her mind and barricading herself inside the castle.

  He hoped it didn’t come to that, but he couldn’t be sure. At this point, he was p
raying he wasn’t going to have to lay siege to get his wife back.

  *

  Diamantha could feel Cortez’s eyes on her back as she made her way up to the keep, but she ignored it. She was trying not to think of the fact that this could very well be the last time she ever saw her beloved Corfe. The marriage, the mass… all of it had passed in a blur. All she could think when they had entered the church was of Robert and the last time she had attended church with him. It had been right before he’d left for the north and she recalled how he’d held her hand the entire time. There had been such comfort and strength there. God, she couldn’t think of it anymore. It was making her mad with grief. Now, she was no longer Lady Edlington but Lady de Bretagne, a title once held by her dear friend. Helene had looked upon her position in life with such honor. At the moment, all Diamantha could manage to feel for it was sorrow.

  By the time she reached the gatehouse, the soldiers were opening the great panels for her and she walked through, trying not to slip on the rather steep slope as the path ascended into the upper ward. She was struggling to focus on what tasks lay ahead of her and not the distress she was feeling. The course took a steep turn to the right and the stairs to the keep lay before her. She took the steps as she had taken them a thousand times before, already missing the comfort they brought her, knowing that the keep she called home would soon be swallowing her up. She was barely through the massive oak and iron panel that comprised the front door before her women were upon her.

  They had been lying in wait for their mistress. It was dark and cold in the entry, shielding them in the shadows, but Diamantha grinned at the group, wearily, as they began to fuss over her. Someone was trying to pull off her damp cloak while someone else was trying to hand her a cup of warmed mead. She put up her hands to stop all of the tugging and fussing.

  “Cease, my little goats,” she said softly but firmly. “I am not removing my cloak and I plan to leave just as soon as my bags are retrieved. Where are they?”