In the middle of the bailey, wearing a white tunic and chausses that contrasted with his tan face, Sigefroi stood in front of his servants, arms crossed on his stolid chest. As she approached, Melusine saw a glint of amusement in his amber eyes.
Her heart stumbled. He had recognized her, and far from showing the rage she expected, he looked rather pleased.
Suddenly, Melusine didn’t feel so sure of herself anymore. She’d just entered the lion’s den. What if her carefully laid plan went awry? If he’d set a trap to kill her, the knave would be free of his oath. She straightened in the side saddle to hide her concern.
“Welcome home, my beautiful bride to be. Lady Melusine, is it?” Sigefroi smiled engagingly and took her gloved hand from the reins to kiss it.
Even through the riding gloves, Melusine shivered at the contact of his lips sending tingles up her arm. “My lord.”
He then seized her waist and lifted her from the saddle like a feather pillow. “So, we were destined to meet again.”
His warm breath fanned her face and hair as her body slid against his hard frame, ever so slowly. The heat of his hands branded her waist, and he kept holding her tight, long after her feet had touched the ground. As he towered over her, Melusine flushed hot with embarrassment. She hadn’t expected Sigefroi to behave so gallantly.
After a hundred years of solitude, his attentions unsettled her. Never in this life had she been courted, and she suddenly wondered whether she’d made a grave mistake in accepting this undertaking.
Dear Goddess! Had he placed her under a spell? She didn’t seem able to concentrate on anything but the magnificent and dangerous beast named Sigefroi of Ardennes, new lord of Lucilinburhuc.
* * *
Sigefroi deliberately let his hands linger at Melusine’s slender waist after he helped her down from the mare. He smiled when he saw her blush.
“Melusine...” The name rolled pleasantly off his tongue. “An unusual name for a princess... or for a warrior.”
She gazed up at him with wide eyes of a deep smoky gray. She trembled under his hold. The tiny spasm at the corner of her smile betrayed her jitters. Despite a rigid back and a noble bearing, she looked like a doe who’d sighted the hunters... just like that day under the bridge.
The sweet fragrance in her unbound hair, her closeness, and the memory of her naked body in the Alzette River stirred his loins. He also remembered her bold ardor in battle, which added to his lust and hardened his manhood.
Hellfire and damnation! His cool anger melted at the sight of her.
Her lips opened slightly as she moistened them with the tip of her tongue.
On impulse, Sigefroi tightened his grip around her waist and planted a rough kiss on her lips. In his strong embrace, her body tensed at first. Then her hands fumbled on his chest and she relaxed to meld against his frame, softening, offering herself to his plundering kiss.
He reveled in her willingness. Her sudden heat at his contact surprised and delighted him. The spunky little maiden would make a wondrous bed mate.
When he released her, Melusine stared at him with bewildered eyes. All arrogance was gone, and Sigefroi thought he saw a tinge of awe in the way she gazed up at him. He’d lost control for a moment and his body yearned for more than a kiss. But how he enjoyed befuddling her.
After a short silence, servants and guards in the bailey erupted in applauds, hoots, and jibes.
* * *
Once in her spacious chamber, Melusine smiled her thanks to the servants who had brought pails of hot water and filled the wooden tub. “I can manage on my own now. I’ll call if I need help.”
After the last servant left the room, Melusine slipped off her leather boots, shed her dusty traveling gown, and tossed it on a chair. She sprinkled dried lavender blossoms from a leather pouch into the steaming bath. Lifting her long tresses, she stepped into the tub and immersed herself, grateful for the fragrant, calming warmth.
Dear Goddess! The strange confusion that so scared Melusine threatened to upset her plans. She needed a clear mind to manipulate Sigefroi. How could she properly seduce him if his simple touch deprived her of her ability to think?
Was his shocking behavior acceptable among mortals? She felt violated but thrilled. Had her mother experienced the same agitation when she had lured King Elinas into marriage? If so, she never spoke of it.
Melusine must regain mastery of her senses. She couldn’t show weakness in front of this brazen knight. Sigefroi played a wicked game, the rules of which she had yet to understand. He should be outraged. After all, she’d defeated him in battle then tricked him into marriage.
So why did he treat her like a beloved? Noble marriages rarely involved carnal passion, and mating with wives was limited to procreation by the Church. So, why would he bother to pretend liking her?
Melusine laid her head back on the wooden edge of the tub, letting her hair hang outside. The heat of the bath penetrated deep under her skin to soothe tight muscles.
The heavy drapes around the square canopied bed had been lifted and tied up to the four posts. Among fur pillows and bear pelts lay the dress she would wear at supper, midnight blue silk, embroidered with silver trim and silver stars that sparkled in the glow from the fireplace.
Along the far wall, her chests and coffers lay unopened, except for one containing her finest apparel. Outside, daylight faded to a gray blur, and the delicious aroma of roasting meats wafted through the open window. Melusine closed her eyes.
Behind her, a servant entered the room but she kept her eyes closed. She heard the crackle of a stick from the fire and recognized the fizzle and the smell of burning tallow as someone lit the candles around the room and closed the shutters. Unwilling to break her meditating state, Melusine ignored the interruption and kept her eyes closed, sinking into deep relaxation.
“Is everything to your liking so far?”
Jarred by the deep male voice, Melusine snapped awake. Sigefroi stood in front of her, one soft boot nonchalantly propped on the edge of the wooden tub. The white of his tunic matched his teeth as he stared at her with a wolfish grin.
Melusine glanced around in panic for something to cover her nudity but her clothes lay too far away. She pulled up her legs in the bath water and laced her arms around her knees. “How dare you intrude? Can’t you see I’m taking a bath?”
Sigefroi’s bold gaze swept over her exposed body. “It’s not as if it were the first time. You seem to like bathing in hot tubs as well as in cold rivers.”
Shocked at his effrontery, Melusine released one arm to point toward the door. “Get out of my chamber immediately!”
“Your chamber?” His grin widened. “This is the only private chamber in the villa, and it happens to be mine.”
“Yours?” Melusine flushed in confusion. She knew the villa was small but hadn’t really thought about all the details.
“I’ll share it with you, unless you want to sleep on the hall floor with the servants.” The scowl on his brow returned. “And as the lord of this place, I don’t take orders from my guests... or my wenches.”
Wench? Her solitary life hadn’t prepared Melusine for such vulgarity. According to what she understood of men, however, she must not give herself too fast but rather let Sigefroi grow hungry for her body as long as possible. “I am no wench and demand to be treated with respect!”
He chuckled and effected a mock bow. “You certainly have mine, my lady.”
Melusine managed a forced smile. “If you give me your word to behave honorably, I could sleep on a pallet behind a screen at the far side of your bedchamber.”
He rolled his eyes. “Truly?”
Melusine hoped her inaccessible proximity would work in her favor. “There is enough space for the two of us.”
“Nay.” The candles flickered in his amber eyes. “You don’t understand, my lady.” A slow smile spread on his sensual lips. “I intend to take you to my bed tonight. After all, we are to be wed.”
“So
soon?” Panic choked her voice. Impaired by Sigefroi’s close proximity, Melusine couldn’t think. He wanted to consummate their union tonight? She quickly regained her composure. “My lord, it’s not proper. We hardly know each other and are not yet betrothed.”
He pulled up the sleeves of his tunic. “A detail easily remedied, my lady. Do you mind if I wash my hands before dinner?”
Before she could react, he dipped his hands in her bath, caressed her knee, brushed the skin of her thigh. Delicious heat coursed through her entire body. He seemed to enjoy her confusion as he swept the length of her folded arms with the back of one finger.
Lifting her chin with the crook of one finger, he bent and softly kissed her lips.
Melusine melted into the bath water, waves of heat swelled and washed over her. His smooth, soft lips teased hers. Her mouth relaxed and opened under his. She let him gently probe her mouth then claim it as his own. Dear Goddess, she was lost.
How could she manipulate this man when she yielded under his touch? She had seen shameless wenches offer themselves to strangers when it served their purpose, or even withhold their favors at will, but Melusine could never do that. She could not refuse this man. She was exposed, vulnerable, and in great danger.
Sigefroi broke the kiss and pulled up a stool. He straddled it, disturbingly close, and stared straight into Melusine’s eyes. “Why did you choose me, and how exactly did you trick me into this promise? I don’t believe for one moment that you are my better with a sword!”
Despite her precarious position, Melusine felt a shred of her natural confidence return. Sigefroi’s varnish had finally cracked to show where his insecurities lay.
She smiled mysteriously. “All in due time, my lord. All in due time.”
As if regretting his show of weakness, Sigefroi scowled and rose. “I could force you to tell me, my lady, but I’ll give you until after supper. Then, you will answer me.”
Melusine raised one eyebrow in defiance. “Or else?”
He huffed a deep sigh. “I’ll find ways to make you.”
“Will you now?” Melusine rather enjoyed his frustration.
“Should I remind you that you are in my home, and Strathclyde lies far across the sea? I doubt that if you disappeared or suffered an unfortunate accident, anyone would know where to look for you.”
The threat in his feral eyes sent shivers scurrying up Melusine’s skin, but far from bringing fear, it raised sensual curiosity. Something told her he didn’t mean her harm. Before she could think of a saucy retort, Sigefroi rose from his stool and marched out of the room.
Melusine allowed herself a sigh of frustration. How could she possibly tame such a wild knight, especially when she melted like wax at his touch? How could she manipulate the man if she fell in love with him? She must find a way to control him, or her life could be forfeited. And if he discovered her Fae origins, he could have her arrested for witchcraft.
* * *
After he left Melusine, Sigefroi berated himself for giving her an ultimatum. It gave away his concerns. Nevertheless, he had managed to scare and arouse the little minx without betraying his attraction to her. A small victory.
His incursion into the kitchen startled cooks and scullions. Various vegetable stews simmered in black cauldrons hanging above the hearth, while geese, lambs, and a whole pig finished roasting on slow-rotating spits turned by children over the embers of the main fireplace.
The chief cook wiped his sweaty brow with the hem of a stained tunic then glanced up at Sigefroi with a proud smile. “All is ready, m’lord. Just as you asked.”
“Aye. Pray that it tastes as good as it smells.” Sigefroi’s mouth watered. “With all that hard work, everyone is hungry.”
On his way to the hall, thoughts of Melusine returned. Sigefroi, who’d learned at court that things seldom were as they appeared, didn’t trust the self-proclaimed royal maiden. Although he didn’t personally know the present rulers of Strathclyde, he was fairly certain that no king Elinas had reigned there for over a century. The name evoked only the half forgotten legend of a would-be high king. Sigefroi would keep his eyes open, playing the game and enjoying all its fringe benefits.
Pulling aside the heavy curtain, Sigefroi glanced into the dining hall. In high spirits, servants, freemen and soldiers milled around the trestle tables lining the hall.
When the horn sounded the lord’s entrance, Sigefroi stepped into the hall and took the central chair at the high table set for three on the dais at the narrow end of the dining hall, opposite the main door.
Upon a wave of his hand, everyone in the hall sat in front of a bread trencher on the benches lining the tables. Gunter took the chair at his left and smiled genially.
Rubbing his black beard, the knight indicated the empty chair on Sigefroi’s right. “She’s late. How can you tolerate such lack of respect from your future bride? You should send for her. Better to train them early.”
“Aye.” Sigefroi chuckled at the thought of taming the little hellcat. This one would require more tenderness than violence. “Perhaps it’s my fault she’s late, but next time remind me to give her a proper beating.”
Gunter rolled his eyes. “I’ve never known you to beat wenches.” He tapped Sigefroi’s arm and pointed to young Thierry, who talked and shared his goblet with a lass his own age among Melusine’s entourage. “Amazing how his first experience as a man has boosted the lad’s confidence with the ladies.”
Sigefroi smiled. “I wager his first encounter with the harlots went well?”
“Beyond his wildest expectations.” Gunter frowned. “Didn’t he tell you about it?”
“Nay.” Just then, Thierry glanced toward the high table but turned away when he met Sigefroi’s gaze.
Gunter squinted. “What’s eating him?”
“Perhaps he’s growing up and facing his first disillusions.” Sigefroi shrugged. “He’ll get over it soon enough.”
He hated to disappoint the lad who had worshiped him like a saint, but he had no logical explanation for his stinging defeat under Melusine’s sword... yet.
Gunter pulled out his knife. “Are we waiting for her?”
“No.” Sigefroi gave the signal to start serving the good wine.
He glanced up when the tinkling of ewers and the conversations stopped. All eyes turned to the door as Melusine entered the hall.
Sigefroi held his breath. The light of the torches flirted with the silver specks in her dark blue gown tied by a silver sash to accentuate her tiny waist. A radiance illuminated her face and danced in her mysterious gray eyes. She walked head high, straight as a queen. Blue gems and silver sparkled at her throat and in the thick braid holding back her long tresses.
Even an emperor would envy Sigefroi his princess. A twinge of jealousy tugged at his gut at the thought of all these men staring at her. Then he reminded himself that she already belonged to him. But by what whimsical fate?
As she drew close, he detected a slight twitch of her lips. She flashed him a disarming smile, as if pleading for protection, eyes wide with fright. Small wonder. She’d never lain with any man, and tonight she would be his lover.
What did he do to deserve such a prize? What made this lamb come willingly to the slaughter in a fortress full of strangers?
“You look as dazzling as a Fae of legend, my lady. Did you cast a spell on me?” The gallant remark escaped his lips unbidden.
Melusine blinked. He heard her short intake of breath, but then she smiled. “I choose to take that remark as a compliment, my lord.”
He drew the chair for her to sit, then handed her his wine goblet. Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she raised the cup to her parted lips. How he wanted to kiss the tiny drop suspended there. Instead, he took the goblet from her hand and gently knocked the blade of his poniard against it to call attention.
“I hope you all enjoy this special feast in honor of Lady Melusine,” he announced, his deep voice filling the hall. “This is our official betrothal ban
quet. The wedding will be held in two days, on Wednesday.”
Melusine laid a restraining hand on the silk of his sleeve. “Nay, not Wednesday, my lord.”
He detected a trembling in her voice. Shock? Fear? She looked deathly pale.
* * *
Melusine swallowed hard.
The assembly gasped at the interruption, staring at their lord as if expecting his imminent wrath.
“Certainly you mean Sunday, my lord!” Dear Goddess! This Wednesday she would become a serpent from the navel down! She’d hoped for more time. Why was he in such a hurry?
“Oh?” Sigefroi squinted at her sharply.
“Aye.” She strained to smile under his scrutiny. “When the priest comes hither to celebrate mass, and the villagers can enjoy the festivities as well. Besides, it will give me more time to prepare and recover from the journey.”
His face softened and he covered her hand with his over the white tablecloth. Although he was the cause of her trouble, it made her feel safer. She detected amusement in his eyes.
“Very well.” Sigefroi turned to the assembly. “If Lady Melusine wishes to wed on Sunday, so it shall be.”
She hoped her grateful smile rewarded him enough. Why was it so difficult? When it came to Sigefroi, none of the spells and glamours she used on common mortals worked. He often guessed too close to the truth and seemed to enjoy her dismay each time.
In a festive atmosphere, the kitchen lads and lasses served the first remove, ladling boiled chestnuts and turnips on the bread trenchers. Roasted geese were brought on silver platters, and the sound of laughter and easy conversations resumed in good cheer.
“So, m’lady,” Gunter said casually waving a goose thigh. “Tell us of whence you came.”
To cover her hesitation, Melusine pulled from her sash the chiseled dagger she used to eat and laid it on the tablecloth. “Strathclyde is a Briton enclave in the southwestern part of Scotia. Small and humble compared to the German empire, but I inherited my mother’s fortune as well as my father’s.”
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