by Holby Cindy
“Lord Rhys de Remy of Myddrin,” Edward said, “has agreed to be your husband.”
Her hands were folded demurely in front of her and she kept her face down as she spoke. “We thank you, Lord de Remy,” she said. “For helping us in our time of need.”
Once more he was struck by that lyrical voice. It was magical, as if it could capture him in a snare.
Magical…Rhys stepped around the bed. The drapes blocked his view as he passed the foot, the posts, the corner, until he came to the side she stood on. She wore a blue velvet gown, deeper and darker than the color of Madwyn’s, with gold trim at the sleeves. The color was rich and luxurious, especially against the blandness of Edward’s coverings.
Her veil was white and she wore a belt of gold that matched the circlet upon her head. He saw that her hair was indeed red, but that one word could hardly do the color justice. The candle on the bedside table and the fire flaming brightly in the hearth behind her brought out many more hues. She kept her face downcast so that her hair hid all except the tip of her nose from his sight.
“Mathias,” he said. “Open the drapes so that I may see my bride’s face.”
She let out a tiny gasp, almost imperceptible except for the sudden rise of her shoulders. Behind her, Madwyn put her hand to her face to cover a smile. Rhys saw her blue eyes dancing in merriment and it gave him courage. He took the clasped hands in his and pulled her closer to the foot of the bed and the window.
“The air,” Cedric protested. “It is cold. Too cold for milord.”
“Leave it, Cedric,” Edward said. Rhys spared him a glance and saw a wide smile of approval on his face.
She kept her face down as she allowed him to lead her. When they both stood at the foot of the bed, before the window, Mathias pulled back the drape and sunlight streamed through the thick glass. Her hair turned the color of flame, with tendrils of red, gold, bronze, and copper all mixed together. Rhys could not help smiling as he placed his finger beneath her chin and raised her face. If dreams could come true, then he would be the first to say they had. Either that or he was still struck deep in some enchantment. Either way, he would enjoy this magic to its fullest.
A finely arched brow rose in challenge as emerald eyes looked upon him in bemusement. “I see you found your way out of the forest, milord,” she said tartly.
“Forsooth,” he replied, jumping into the game. “It was only the thought of the reward awaiting me here in Aubregate that guided my steps and kept me on the true path.”
“Oh,” she replied. “Did you have knowledge of your reward before you came?”
“Nay, milady,” he said. “Only the rumors I heard at court. And they were not kind.”
That remark seemed to puzzle her for a moment. “What are these rumors of which you speak?”
“Lies,” he said. “Lies spoken by bitter hearts.” He arched his own eyebrow in challenge, and then slowly raised his hands to lift the circlet from her head. Her eyes followed his hands, even when he tossed the circlet upon Edward’s bed. Then he saw the fear in those great green depths as he slowly slid the veil from her hair.
“I would see for myself,” he said softly. He touched a hand to the flaming thick mass of her hair and then pushed it back behind her ear. She raised her arm as if to stop him, but the quick and stern look he gave her halted her hand. He heard Edward stir upon his bed and looked at the man. He should speak but could not, not until he knew whether his eyes had been playing tricks on him in the forest.
Any deformity would be grounds to deny her. Everyone within the chamber knew it. Better to know it now, than later, on the wedding night, when there would be even more witnesses.
Her hair felt like silk in his hand. The scent of it filled his head and brought visions of deep glades and cool water. Wisps of it snagged on the fragile tip of her ear and he carefully smoothed them away before placing a finger on her cheek to turn her head toward the window. She tilted away from him, as if she were shamed by what he saw.
There was a distinct peak to her ear that made it once again the size of what was usual. The delicacy of it amazed him. The light made it translucent, as if it were a piece of abalone shell washed up on the beach. He had never seen anything like it. “I thought I imagined it,” he whispered. “I thought it some enchantment.”
“I assure you it is most real,” Eliane said. She turned her head back to look him in the eye and carefully smoothed her hair back into place. “As was my warning.”
“Eliane,” Edward chided from his bed.
“She has your spirit, I see,” Rhys said. “But whence did this come?” He waved his hand in the general area of her ear. Something about the way she stared at him made him reluctant to touch her, although it was now his right.
“From her mother’s family,” Madwyn said. “The trait does not always show in offspring of the bloodline,” she added, “but any child you sire does carry the risk.”
“A consideration, then,” he said. “Although if all babes born are female, the ears are easily hidden.”
“If you have regrets, speak now,” Edward said warily from his bed. “Before the banns are hung.”
“Yes,” Eliane added. “Speak your regrets now.” Her eyes sparked green fire and he was reminded of the previous day when she held a bowstring taut with an arrow aimed at his heart.
“I am sure that in his haste Father Timothy has already nailed the banns to the church door,” Rhys said, daring her to respond. For some strange reason, he felt compelled to challenge her. Just as he had challenged her when she held the bow. Her eyes sparked again and he could not help wondering how they would look filled with passion. “Nay,” he said. “I see no need to break the agreement.”
“ ’Tis a good thing,” Eliane said as she turned from him. “I would hate to have to kill my father’s friend.”
Edward laughed. “You have kept your word,” he told Rhys. “It is a bargain well struck.”
Chapter Nine
There were rumors at court about her? What rumors? Who even knew of her existence? “Renauld…” She spat out the name as if it were a curse. “Vannoy.”
Madwyn looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Why do you speak of him?”
“He said there were rumors about me. Unkind rumors.”
Madwyn laughed. She laughed long and hard, so hard that she had to sit down upon a bench. They had retreated to the solar on the topmost floor of the castle so Eliane could think and plan. There was so much to do before the wedding in three days’ time. The keep would have to be cleaned from top to bottom for all the guests. She had to take inventory of the stores and make sure there were enough mead and wine on hand. She must have a dress made, if there was appropriate fabric in the coffers. Messengers had to be sent out to summon the vassals for the wedding and the fealty oath.
Fealty oath…The vassals would have to swear to her new husband…that was something she had not counted on when considering her marriage. Her mind was spinning like the wheels used for twisting yarn from wool. Wheels that now stood idle, since Madwyn had chased the maids from the solar.
“Why do you laugh?” Eliane asked her. “I see no humor in any of this day’s happenings.”
Madwyn’s eyes danced as she looked at Eliane. “Nay,” she said. “You would not. I, however, find it very funny that you have just met your husband, who was the same man you nearly killed in the forest, and all you can worry about is the rumors he may have heard about you at court?”
Eliane bit her lip at Madwyn’s logic. “It seemed as if they were unflattering,” she said in her defense.
“Indeed,” Madwyn agreed. “Why do you think Renauld would say such things about you?”
“Because he has always wanted Aubregate, just as his father did before him.”
“Spreading unflattering rumors about the heiress of Aubregate would keep the competition of unwanted suitors away, would it not?” Madwyn explained.
“Yet he came,” Eliane said. “Milord de Remy came.�
�� She went to the window. The solar was in the southwest tower of the keep, which sat atop a small hillock close to the forest. From the window she could see all of the lands of Aubregate to the west. In the distance the gray sea faded into the pale blue of the sky. Everything was covered with snow, then a crust of ice, which was blindingly white in the noonday sun. The landscape appeared to be encrusted with jewels. The ice gave the illusion of richness, an illusion that many had pursued through the generations. The fools did not know that the treasure was the land itself. The land that was hidden beneath the blanket of snow, sleeping, waiting to come back to life with the spring thaw. “He came because of my father.”
“You told your father to choose,” Madwyn said. “And you would accept.”
“Yes,” Eliane agreed. “Yet I do not know what I have accepted.”
“ ’Tis the way with most brides,” Madwyn said. “And you are luckier than most.”
“How is that?” Eliane asked.
Madwyn laughed again and shook her head in disbelief at Eliane’s question. “Do you not find Lord de Remy fair of face and strong of arm?”
Eliane closed her eyes against the brightness of the day and imagined the close, dim light of the forest on a wintry afternoon and a pair of eyes, dark as night, looking up at her in challenge. His face had bristled that day with beard, but this day it was clean shaven, revealing a strong jaw and chin and smooth, unmarked skin. He was as tall as she, nay, taller, which was an oddity since the only men she’d ever met who were taller than she were of the forest. “He is both,” Eliane said. “To say otherwise would be a lie, and you know it.”
“Then what is the problem?” Madwyn asked. “It is more than most heiresses can claim when a husband is chosen for them. Did you not admit to having a lustful heart just this day past?”
Eliane felt her cheeks flame and she resisted the urge to lean against the glass to cool them. “I cannot stand about discussing what is done,” she said. “When there is much to be accomplished.”
“At least you may congratulate yourself for not killing him,” Madwyn said as they left the solar to begin the preparations.
“I have yet to decide whether that was a good thing.”
“What did he mean that you kept your word?” Mathias had been strangely silent since they’d left Lord Edward’s chambers. It was a good thing, since Rhys had much on his mind. He placed the brush he was using on the ledge in the stall and looked at his squire over Yorath’s wide back. Mathias perched on a barrel outside the stall with a piece of straw dangling from his lips. A black and white cat circled around the barrel and arched its back against it in hopes of a rub.
“Lord Edward saved my life when I was younger than you. I told him then that I would repay him whenever he asked.”
“You will pay your debt by marrying the Lady Eliane?”
“It is one way to look at it,” Rhys agreed.
“I think Lady Jane and Lady Marcella will find another way to see it.” His blue eyes danced with humor and Rhys knew he was considering their reactions to Rhys’s surprising choice of bride.
“Let us hope that word reaches them while we are a great distance away.”
“I am sure we will hear their shrieks no matter where we hide,” Mathias said.
Rhys turned so Mathias would not see his grin. The boy was entirely too irreverent. But at the present Rhys needed to see the humor in his situation.
He’d come to the stable because he was not sure if he could continue to hide the sense of great relief he’d felt upon finally seeing Eliane. Where had the tales of her deformity come from? He considered her ears more of a curiosity than a deformity. Someone had greatly maligned the Lady Eliane. As her husband, he would protect her reputation.
Her husband…the benefits of becoming Eliane’s husband were suddenly at the forefront of his mind, as well as other parts of his body. He picked up a comb and went to work on Yorath’s tail. “Does not your horse need attending?” he asked. “And the packhorse as well?”
“They are taken care of.” Mathias looked comfortable. Too comfortable as he played with the piece of straw and teased the cat with the toe of his boot.
“Go now,” Rhys barked. Mathias jumped up from his perch as the cat arched its back in his direction and let out a hiss. “Never presume that another will care for your mount as well as you. He is your partner, not your servant, and you will do well to remember it.”
“Yes, milord.” Mathias bowed and went to his duties, leaving Rhys alone to consider his bride-to-be.
To his surprise he found the prospect of marrying Edward’s daughter exciting. The fact that she was the woman from the forest enchanted him. When he’d awakened this morning he had seriously questioned his sanity, but now there was much to look forward to. He had never been with a woman who seemed as capable as Lady Eliane. She was not a shrinking flower like Jane, nor did she seem to be a fan of trickery like Marcella. What she was he had yet to determine.
The next few days should be interesting, and he found himself wishing that it was three days hence and the vows spoken. Would she come willingly to the marriage bed? Or would she be shy and need encouragement? He envisioned her standing over him as she had in the forest. Except this time her long legs were bare but for the barest wisp of a gown. Her breasts, which had been covered in leather, now peeked seductively from behind her hair, which fell in a glorious mass of copper and bronze past her hips.
Rhys combed out Yorath’s tail until the silky black strands hung straight and swished against the straw covering the floor of the stall. With a hand on the stallion’s flank to steady him, Rhys moved up to the side of the great beast to work on his mane. His thoughts turned to how Eliane would feel beneath his touch, and his shaft rose in excitement at the prospect. Yorath tossed his head and Rhys looked up to find the object of his fantasy standing outside the stall.
“Have a care, milady. He does not take kindly to strangers.” Rhys leaned against Yorath’s side and placed his arms casually over the stallion’s back while willing his more rebellious parts into place. It would not help his cause some three nights hence if he frightened his lady with his lust. “As a matter of fact, he does not take kindly to anyone…except me.”
She smiled at him. A smile that did not reach her eyes. A smile that was more challenging than sweet. The dog that had accompanied her in the forest was with her again. It stood at her hip, just as it had the day before. “Llyr feels the same way,” she said as she touched the dog on the top of his head. A growl rumbled deep in his throat. “Llyr, enough!” Her words seemed to chastise the beast, but Rhys realized she commanded the dog to growl as easily as she spoke to him.
To his amazement, she extended her hand, palm down, toward Yorath and spoke in a language he’d never heard before. The words were musical and lilting, and Yorath stretched his nose out and snuffled the air around her hand. Then the stallion gently nibbled her fingers. If Rhys had not seen the horse’s reaction, he would not have believed it. Especially when she laughed and stroked the long path of Yorath’s nose. Her emerald eyes flashed her victory as her lips settled into a smile of mischievous satisfaction. How would it feel to have that look turned upon him instead of his horse? In his mind’s eye he could see her, settling over him, taking him inside her, smiling that very same smile and dazzling him with her emerald eyes.
“I have need of your squire.” She continued to look at Yorath rather than him. “So that my women may consider your wardrobe.”
He kept the horse between them. It was that or throw her down in the straw and have his way with her. “My wardrobe is fine.”
“Did you bring garments appropriate for our wedding?” Her emerald eyes pierced him.
“I am certain I have something that will not shame you,” he replied. She raised a shoulder as if she were doubtful. How smooth was the skin of that same shoulder? How would it look when she did that and her shift slid low, down her arm, to expose her breast? Yorath shifted and bumped him. He grunted in pa
in and gritted his teeth.
“Are you injured, milord?” A finely arched brow rose questioningly.
“You may find Mathias over there,” he said, pointing in the direction Mathias had gone. She turned to go. Rhys made some adjustments to his chausses before he stepped to the rope across the stall and watched the gentle sway of her hips as she moved away with the dog by her side. She stopped to talk to a tall and painfully thin young man with a mop of brown hair. She placed a hand on his arm and the two laughed as if they shared a private joke.
She should not be so easy with a stable boy. She should not be so easy with anyone but me. Rhys stepped back into the stall and placed a hand on Yorath’s neck. Was that jealously he felt? She was just giving the boy instructions as was her right. “See to milord’s needs. Care for his horse as you would care for mine.” What else could it be? He chastised himself for being foolish; still, he looked once more in her direction and found the stable boy grinning at him. The lad yanked on his forelock and walked away, whistling, with a shovel placed over his shoulder.
I should beat him…along with Mathias…Rhys realized his will had not yet mastered his body. He’d better find someone to attend to his needs, and soon. Or the next three days were going to be painful.
Renauld Vannoy spared a glance at his traveling companion as they rode north toward his lands. Peter Salisbury had to be delaying on purpose. There could be no other reason for the constant stream of bad luck that had occurred on their trip. The first instance was on the morning they were to leave, when the man’s wife suffered a spell that demanded Salisbury’s immediate attention, delaying their departure until the noon hour. Renauld would have gone on without Salisbury except the king had commanded that they go together.
There was also the fact that he needed to give his messenger time to get to Chasmore. It would do no good if he arrived before the deed was done. Renauld gritted his teeth and put up with the delay.