Mary Reed McCall

by Secret Vows

  Bringing up his cupped hands, Gray splashed the water over his face. He hoped that the sensation of cold would aid him. Only this morning, he’d followed his ritual bathing with a plunge in the frigid waters of the river, to help clear his mind and brace him for the unsettling events of the day.

  The icy shock didn’t help him now.

  He heard his wife step nearer to him as he dried his face with a towel. Her voice pierced the distance, its tone edged with a kind of quiet panic.

  “Have I angered you by coming to our chamber too soon?” she whispered. “Please forgive me. ’Tis only that I wasn’t sure—”

  Concerned, Gray turned to face her, and with a sobbed intake of breath, she shrank away from him, half-raising her hand as if to ward off a blow.

  He felt as if it was he who’d been hit. Taking several steps toward her, he gripped her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Why do you pull away as if I would strike you?”

  Elise stared up at him, eyes wide, luminously blue with tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. She only shook her head and tried to make him release her.

  Something snapped in Gray as she struggled against him, making him hold her tighter in his determination to win their clash of wills. “Tell me why, Elise. I demand to know why you whimper and shy away every time I look at you.”

  “Please let go,” she whispered. “You’re hurting me.”

  Startled, Gray released her and took a step back. She recoiled a few paces and rubbed her arms, but he continued to stare at her, his gaze steady. “Strong I may be, lady, yet I know when I exert enough force to cause pain. If your flesh protests, ’tis not from my touch.”

  “Nay, I spoke true my lord,” she said, glancing at him in that skittish, uncertain way he was coming to expect from her.

  Exasperated to the point of frustration, Gray strode forward again and took her hand. “Then I must see proof of the damage I inflicted, so that in future I can restrain myself.”

  He lifted her hand toward him, at the same time pushing aside the long draped sleeve of her smock to expose her arm. For the second time in less than a minute, Gray felt as if he’d been struck, only this time his concern mixed with bewilderment and then with anger. Bright, angry red marks, made by the force of fingers—God, he hoped not his—slashed across a mass of bruises.

  “What in Christ’s name is this? Why didn’t you tell me of it before?” Without waiting for her reply, Gray pulled her to the padded bench near the fire and made her sit. “Did you meet with an accident during your journey? Have you sustained other wounds? I demand that you tell me!”

  He didn’t at first notice how his commanding tone affected her. But when he saw the deathly hue of her cheeks and the strange, haunted look intensify in her eyes, he went still. More softly, he said, “I need to know how this happened, lady, and if you were hurt elsewhere. If you cannot remember or will not comply, I will summon a physician to examine you, to ascertain that you are in no danger.”

  “There’s no need to call an examination, my lord. The bruises were the result of my own foolishness, nothing more.”

  Gray waited in silence for her to continue, but she apparently felt herself finished. The only outward sign of her feelings came in how her fingers clenched in her lap. Her throat worked convulsively, as if she tried to hold back some strong emotion. Placing his fingertip under the silky curve of her chin, he guided her gaze back to his again. “Are there more bruises than those I observed?”

  He thought he saw a glimmer of unshed tears beginning to build again, but then she just blinked and nodded. Gray found himself wavering between a desire to comfort her and the urge to force her to explain. The conflicting feelings annoyed and angered him. She had no right to come into his life and upset the delicate balance he’d worked so hard to achieve. He’d not allow it. He needed to get to the bottom of his wife’s secrets, and he intended to uncover this particular mystery right now.

  “Show me.”

  She pulled away with an abrupt motion, standing and pacing to the other side of the chamber. “Nay. ’Tis of no matter. I will heal in time.” She half-turned, her eyes downcast as she clenched her fingers again. “I swear that I will not allow it to interfere with your pleasure this night, my lord.”

  Shadows masked her face, but not enough so that Gray couldn’t see the tightness there. Fear. Aye, he’d expected as much. She was virgin, after all. He’d already reminded himself of that fact, cursing his inexperience in handling one such as she.

  But whether she was his virgin bride or one of Thornby’s most seasoned whores, nothing mattered as much right now as making sure that she was well.

  “Lady, I’ll wait no longer for your compliance.”

  Gray covered the distance between them in the space of a heartbeat. Against her soft protests, he led her toward the fire; taking a candelabrum from the mantel, he tipped it to the flames.

  The tapers ignited with a popping hiss, and he set them on a small table perched near the hearth. Elise faced away from him, motionless; the mellow candle-glow bathed her hair, turning its lighter brown strands to gold.

  Sweet Jesu, but this was more difficult than he’d expected. It took all of his strength not to bury his hands in her hair, to feel its silky weight against his cheek and breathe in her sweet fragrance. Desperate to quell the desire, Gray pulled his dagger from his belt and sliced through her smock in one quick motion.

  Elise gasped as the fabric of her underdress slipped, but she couldn’t prevent Gray from seeing what she’d obviously been trying to hide from him. The bruises that flowered across the smooth expanse of her back showed even more brutality, if that was possible, than the discoloration on her arm.

  No accident under heaven could have resulted in this. It had been caused by the pounding force of some kind of animal. A human animal.

  Fury swept through Gray with the swiftness of a winter squall; he beat back the surging memories that the sight of her injuries invoked. Memories of pain, darkness, misery, and impotent fury. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he stepped forward to push his wife’s hair gently from her neck. She shuddered, and her shoulders hunched forward protectively.

  By all that was Holy. Cursing softly, Gray let its silky weight fall back down to shield her. “Tell me who did this.” His voice echoed quiet and deadly, and he felt the all too familiar battle rage begin to build in his blood. Whatever man had dared to touch Elise, had dared to touch his wife like this, would pay dearly. Before morning, the wretch’s blood would soak the earth below the walls of Ravenslock.

  She swung around to face him, eyes wide. Her mouth was even more drawn and pinched than before. “Please, my lord, ’tis of no matter. I beg of you to let it pass.”

  Gray’s anger burned hotter, and a dark, destructive need for vengeance flared in his blood. “I’ll excuse your request on the grounds that you’ve known me but a few hours, lady. Do not ask it of me again. Just tell me the name of the bastard who did this to you. Now.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes had filled with tears, and her voice sounded choked.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because, I…because I can’t let you take action against him, or—” She broke off mid-point, choking back another sob and clenching her fingers so tightly in front of her that Gray felt sure they must snap from the pressure.

  His temper broke instead, and he stalked to her, gripping her hands. “Why all the secrets? Why the heavy silences, the mysterious glances? Have you a lover whose seed already grows in your belly? Is that why you take such pains to protect his name?”

  Elise’s face turned ashen, and she gasped. “Nay! I’ve taken no lover, now or at any time in my life!”

  “Who, then, would dare to visit such abuse upon you?” But even as he uttered the question aloud, its answer burst upon him with startling clarity. Only a man who had access, power, and the right given him by law to exert such force could be responsible for the deed. And only one man fit that descript
ion, so far as Gray knew.

  “Christ, it was Eduard.” He murmured it half as a statement and half as a question. His wife’s silence gave him the confirmation he needed.

  Releasing her, Gray stalked to the door, preparing to hunt down and drag the bastard from his bed, King Henry’s sanctions be damned. But before he could pull back on the wooden slab, Elise cried out and threw herself against him to block his access. He stared at her, stunned. Though she was tall, he’d not expected her to wield such strength.

  She gazed at him, her eyes blue and glistening as the dew-soaked flowers that dotted the meadows near Ravenslock; she’d pressed back against the door, so caught up in the grip of emotion that she didn’t seem to notice how the cut edges of her smock slipped from her shoulders.

  Gray did.

  His gaze drifted almost against his will, picking up every nuance, noticing how the creamy fabric bunched around her hand where she continued to clutch it to her breasts. The sight enticed him beyond reason. She looked wanton in a purely innocent way, which only added to the spiking shafts of desire and rage that lanced through him at the moment.

  The soft linen provided sensual contrast with the smooth contours of bare flesh above it. In the firelight her skin took on a deeper glow, a silky warmth that made Gray burn with the desire to stroke his palm over the exposed places.

  And other, more hidden places as well.

  Jerking his gaze up to her face once again, he tried to thrust the thought from his mind. He nudged her, hoping to ease her from the doorway. But she didn’t move. Her free hand had tangled itself in the cloth of his cloak, and she squirmed and pushed back in her effort to keep him from leaving their chamber.

  “Please, my lord. Take no action against him. It is enough that he no longer has rule over me, and that I can hope for greater mercy at your hands. I beg of you, let it be!”

  “Nay, lady. I cannot.” Gray looked down at her, exasperation filling him at her stubborn defense of a villain. “No one may harm you with my knowledge and then continue as if naught occurred.”

  Elise looked horrified. She searched his face desperately, as if seeking some measure of mercy. Finding none, her expression went blank, then took on a reckless, bitter cast. She blinked back her tears. “Yet you may continue the righteous hypocrite! Can you say that you’ve never corrected a woman in anger, my lord? Now that you hold dominion over me, do you not intend to beat me whenever you deem it necessary?”

  Every muscle in Gray’s body tightened. “Regardless of what other men may do, lady, since I was but a lad of fourteen, I’ve never suffered another to harm a woman in my presence. And while there’s no denying that I dislike the slashing barb of your tongue, I do not intend to beat you for it. Now or ever.”

  Dead silence greeted him. Elise blinked twice more and then the fight seemed to leave her, seeping away until she went limp and pliant against him. Yet Gray found that he couldn’t continue his plan. He couldn’t just push her aside to go after Eduard.

  He felt the warmth of her palm, still resting, forgotten, on his chest; it burned through his cloak and shirt, holding him captive far more effectively than any steel shackle or metal bars might have. The curve of her breast and hips, pressed so intimately along his body in her struggles, branded him with heat. His desire jolted to full awareness, and he tried to shift away to curtail the swelling need that rose from being so near to her soft curves and enticing warmth.

  But his abrupt movement made him pitch forward, and he came into complete, overwhelming contact with the length of her body. The erotic heat burgeoned, sending waves of pleasure through him and making him want to groan aloud with the sensation.

  A soft moan broke from Elise’s lips; her face tipped to his, and he was startled to see an answering awareness in her gaze. Without further thought, he bent his head, taking possession of her mouth, savoring the soft, salty taste of her lips. His tongue flicked into the honeyed recess, need for her burning hot and heavy in his groin.

  She didn’t resist, and so he deepened the kiss, taking his time, tasting fully of her. Her mouth slid smoothly across his, and he felt the soft sounds of pleasure she breathed against his lips. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to take her to their bed. To strip away her ruined garments, to satiate his hunger deep inside her moist heat.

  It took all of his willpower to remain still as he kissed her; his palms were pressed to the door at either side of her head, and the muscles in his arms twitched as he fought against the urge to let go, to pull her body into him and the molten force of his desire.

  But another part of him reveled in the teasing, the tantalizing sensation of holding back. Her body burned him like the kiss of a thousand fiery butterfly wings, making him loath to end the erotic tension that was rapidly spiraling out of control.

  Deep in the recesses of his mind, Gray knew he should stop. He knew that he was casting years of self-discipline to the winds as he tasted of this pleasure. But he also recognized that he could as easily harness a storm right now as he could walk away from the temptation that was his wife.

  With a groan of defeat, Gray slid his hands from the door to cup her buttocks, cradling her against the heat of his erection. She leaned into him, yielding and warm, and the soft pressure of her breasts, the sweet fit of their bodies, made him groan again. He lavished nibbling kisses down the side of her throat, pausing to breathe in her delicate floral scent as he captured the lobe of her ear with his lips. But when he moved his hands up her back, lifting, preparing to carry her to their bed, her sigh of pleasure ended on a hissed intake of breath.

  Pulling back, Gray saw her bite her lip as tears sprang to her eyes. Christ in heaven. Releasing her immediately, he stepped back. But it was too late. He couldn’t take away the hurt he’d just caused her by touching her bruises.

  Elise shook her head without speaking, trying to reassure him, but he could see the suffering on her face. Her fingers clenched as he’d seen them do so often in the hours since their wedding, and the sight made him feel sick and helpless.

  Damn Montford. Cursing aloud, Gray turned away from Elise. He raked his hand through his hair and took a deep, shuddering breath until control ebbed back, thickening his blood with slow, painful beats of his heart. He allowed anger to replace his desire, let the cooling force of it drown the liquid heat that had filled him moments ago.

  Averting his gaze from his wife, Gray turned back to the door, intending to go past her and find her bastard of a brother this time, pleading or no. But the feather-light touch of her hand made him pause.

  “Nay, my lord,” she murmured. The pain seemed to have receded, leaving her expression open and vulnerable. “Grant me one boon in this, I beg you. Do not seek out Eduard this night.”

  Desire battled in Gray—the need to beat her abuser to a pulp, warring with a sudden, unaccountable wish to please her, to give balm to the suffering he’d caused her. His hands fisted, even as she tried to lead him back toward their bed. Forcing his control to remain firm, Gray pulled away from her grasp. “Nay, lady. I cannot—I will not—join with you this night.”

  Elise stopped, and her face went ashen again. “But—but we must consummate our union.”

  “Aye, we will. But not tonight. I would not be able to complete our joining—” He broke off, uncertain how much he needed to say to her about the intimate act between men and women. He cleared his throat. “I do not wish to hurt you, and so I will not share our bed until your bruises have healed.”

  “No, please,” she grasped his arm. “I do not care. We must finish this.” She looked stricken, even more fearful than she’d looked when she’d thought him about to strike her. “Sweet Jesu,” she whispered, as if the words were wrenched involuntarily from her, “If Eduard were to discover that ’tis not in truth…”

  Anger swelled anew in Gray. The wretch had far too great a hold on her, he decided; the sooner he broke that connection, the better. As his wife, she needed to learn that she had no more to fear from her brother
or anyone else. But until that happened, he saw no reason for her to agonize over Eduard’s reaction. Not when he could easily provide the proof that she seemed to seek so desperately.

  Grasping the corner of their bed linen, Gray yanked it from the ticking. At the same time, he slid his dagger from its sheath at his waist, ignoring Elise’s gasp as he sliced a small cut at the edge of his palm. Making a fist, he spattered blood on the sheet’s pristine white; after he dabbed the flow to a stop with it, he tossed it to the floor.

  “There. Now no one will question the validity of our marriage. ’Twill serve as proof that I breached your maidenhead.” His cut throbbed, and he welcomed the burning sensation as he stalked to the door. “I’ll not be forced into barbarity by anyone, for any reason.”

  “Wait! What…where are you going?”

  Pausing for one moment, he swung to face his wife, willing himself to keep his emotions in check. Her eyes were huge in her face, and the frightened look made him clench his jaw before he was able to answer her.

  He took a deep breath and attempted to gentle his tone. “Allay your fears, Elise. None will know of my absence from our chamber to gossip about it.”

  “But what of Eduard?” she whispered, as if she could scarce find the courage to voice her request.

  Gray felt his lips curl almost against his will into a mocking grin. “Your wishes shall be respected on that account as well, my lady. For this night, at least.” He yanked the door open, adding, “But on the morrow I host a tournament in honor of our wedding. Your brother will not fare so comfortably then, I assure you.”

  Gray steeled his heart to the simultaneous rush of relief and renewed anxiety he saw in her eyes. She seemed about to speak more to him, but then she simply looked to the floor, her hands clasped again before her.

  “Good night, lady,” he finally murmured, taking one long, last look at his bride. Then, before he could change his mind, he slipped out the door and disappeared into the cool, welcome embrace of the night.

  Faegerliegh Keep, Somerset