Edlyn could tell he didn’t like that. He didn’t like any of it. Probably what he really hated was that a woman reproved him; he surely didn’t care whether he’d destroyed Edlyn’s reputation and her trust. He just wanted his own way and got it by any means he could.
“Nevertheless, Abbot John is prepared to call the banns. They’ll be called three—”
Hugh interrupted. “I don’t have time for banns.”
Now Edlyn stiffened. He’d just been given as ruthless a reproach as she’d ever heard Lady Corliss give, and when she offered him his own way, he claimed it wasn’t enough.
Yet he gave an explanation, which was more than she expected. “I’ve been too long from the battlefield, and I need to claim my new lands before autumn. I need to go as soon as possible.”
“I’m not going without my children,” Edlyn said. About this, she allowed no room for debate.
Lady Corliss was more concerned with the validity of the marriage. “Banns are necessary. I would not have you discard Lady Edlyn and claim an improper ceremony.”
“Then call them three times today and let us wed before the sun sets.” He stood, depositing Edlyn carefully on her feet. “Else I’ll take Edlyn with me without the ceremony.”
Lady Corliss hesitated, then bowed her head. “It shall be as you solicit.”
Taking Edlyn’s chin in his hand, he leaned toward her. “Stop glaring at me like that. Our marriage will be propitious, you’ll see. Now be a good lass and get cleaned up for our wedding.” He straightened and dusted his hand over her head. “You still have weeds in your hair.”
“I do hate you.” She said it flatly, with the intensity of one who had never laid claim to such emotion before.
He heard it, she guessed, because he blinked. “But why would you?”
His obtuse confusion made her want to scream, but she didn’t. She controlled herself enough to answer, “Because you think you’re doing right.”
He corrected her. “I know I’m doing right.”
She did scream then, just a little. How could she talk to a man like this? He was even more pigheaded than Robin, and she hadn’t thought that was possible.
Robin. She stilled and drew a painful breath. “I won’t say aye.”
“What?” Lady Corliss asked.
“When?” Hugh looked confused.
“At the wedding ceremony. I won’t agree to become your wife.” Both of them stared at her stupidly, as if she were some tame house cat who’d suddenly spat in their faces. “I’ve done that already—been the wife of a warrior.”
“Of course you have. Who else would you wed?” Hugh demanded. “A man of the cloth?”
He didn’t understand. He’d never understand, and she would just weary herself trying to explain, so she added, “You’re rebelling against the king, and I have no wish to be branded the wife of a traitor again.”
Lady Corliss gazed at him from top to toe as if she could discern the slant of his loyalties by his appearance. “Are you a traitor?”
For an answer, Hugh walked to the huge Bible that sat on the corner of her desk. Putting his hand on it, he said, “I swear I am not a traitor to the king.”
He was staring at Edlyn, but Lady Corliss answered. “That’s that, then. You’ll have to wed him, Lady Edlyn.”
Was he a liar as well as a scoundrel? Edlyn would have said yes only a few moments earlier, but Lady Corliss had a fine sense for those who lied, and she had readily accepted Hugh’s vow. Was he a traitor? She didn’t really care. “I will not,” Edlyn said. “He’s a warrior.”
If Lady Corliss understood Edlyn’s statement, she showed no indication. “Wed him or not, you cannot remain at the abbey. Your presence has created dissension and turned our thoughts away from our service to God.”
Edlyn’s guts squeezed tight with pain, but panic drove her. “I’ve been on the road before.”
“And your sons will have to remain here, safe from your influence.”
Briefly, Edlyn fought comprehension, but when she understood, she cried, “You can’t take my sons!”
“But I can. They are already under the care of our monks, and a woman such as you cannot be allowed to raise children.”
Lady Corliss didn’t believe in Edlyn’s disgrace. Edlyn knew she didn’t. But she would enforce God’s will, regardless of Edlyn’s desire, and she wisely chose the weapon to wield.
Would she throw Edlyn out of the abbey? Would she take Edlyn’s sons away from her?
Edlyn knew the answer without a doubt. Hostility and despair mixed in equal parts, but she bridled her defiance, bowed her head, and whispered, “It shall be as you wish.”
“As God wishes, child.”
She couldn’t dislike Lady Corliss, so she glared at Hugh with eyes that teared from the heat of her anger.
And like the cretin he was, he just said, “Wear something pretty.”
“To our wedding, you mean?” She took great satisfaction in replying, “I have nothing pretty.”
Having decided he had blundered enough, Lady Corliss shoved him away. “I’ll find her something. Now go before you ruin all.”
Like any good soldier, he comprehended retreat and the need for it, and he left without a murmur.
Edlyn stared at the door he’d closed behind him and said in despair, “You don’t understand.”
“Actually, I think I do.” Lady Corliss put her arm around Edlyn’s rigid shoulders and pulled her close. “But there are only the three estates to chose from.”
Edlyn stood stiffly in Lady Corliss’s embrace. “What do you mean?”
“Your betrothed said it, I think. There are men who labor, men of the church, and men who fight. A lady cannot wed a peasant who coaxes grain from the field, nor can she wed a man who has pledged himself to the church, so who else can you wed but a warrior?”
“Why wed anyone?” Edlyn burst out.
“Lady Edlyn, I have watched you since the day you endowed this abbey and asked me to come and lead it. You’re a woman of passionate beliefs, of joys, of sorrows. You don’t live life, you revel in it, and you draw people with your warmth. This last year has been difficult for you, not just because of the tragedy of your marriage but because you’ve had to conform to our order’s rules.” Lady Corliss chuckled. “I have been glad I didn’t have to deal with you as a nun.”
“Have I done so badly, then?”
“Not at all, but you’ve had to restrain the fires within you, and I see them dying from lack of fuel.” Tightening her arm briefly, Lady Corliss said, “I’ve seen the fires raging in you in the last fortnight and wondered what ignited them. I believe it’s that man.”
“I’m not on fire for him,” Edlyn muttered. What was she doing, talking with Lady Corliss about the fire between a man and a woman? The whole subject made her uncomfortable, and she squirmed like a guilty child.
“Marrying him will free you to feel the fire.” Lady Corliss released her. “We had best go find something for you to wear.”
“Would you really have thrown me out and kept my children?”
Lady Corliss ushered Edlyn out of her office, out of the church, and toward the abbey cloister. “What do you think?”
“I think you are as ruthless as any warrior.”
“My thanks, Lady Edlyn.” As they walked, Lady Corliss beckoned, and the nuns fell in behind them. By the time they entered the cloister, they were surrounded by ladies of all kinds. A widowed countess, the virgin youngest daughter of an earl, a baron’s discarded wife, two ladies whose husbands, like Edlyn’s, had chosen the wrong side in a battle fought long ago. The cool, dim common room filled with women, and when Lady Corliss asked for clothing that would befit a bride, their voices broke into a babble of glee. Before Edlyn knew quite what had happened, the door had been barred and she’d been stripped and placed in the tub for the ceremonial bathing.
As she was being scrubbed, the call echoed through the square. The first banns had been called.
The nuns pul
led Edlyn out of the tub, dried her body and her hair, and began the long task of combing the tangles out of the sweep of brown locks. As they worked, they exclaimed at her slenderness after bearing a child. Lord Hugh would want her fattened up, one suggested. Lady Neville, the widowed countess, laughed and said, “I saw him look at her in the square. He seems to find her well enough as she is.”
Outside, another call echoed through the square. The second banns had been called.
The nuns brought forth the finery they had hidden away. They dropped a thin white linen shift over her head. It reached her knees and didn’t tie. Instead it lay flat and wide against her chest, and a tracery of embroidered vines and leaves along the top etched her skin. After much serious discussion, they narrowed the choice down to two gowns—a cotte with light and dark green stripes that accented her eyes and another that was a plain sweep of delicate blue wool.
“Not green,” Lady Neville said firmly. “’Tis a color for a woman of light morals, and there’s been too much said about that this day.”
Edlyn’s ears and cheeks burned fiery red.
Lady Neville looked impatient. “Don’t distress yourself, Lady Edlyn. Only the ignorant believed it.”
The nuns murmured, some doubtfully, and Lady Corliss saved Edlyn from further embarrassment. “I prefer the blue. It is the color of Our Lady.”
The nuns nodded solemnly.
Then she added, “And the open side lacing and center split skirt will surely render Lord Hugh helpless in her hands.”
The young virgins gasped. The widowed and discarded didn’t even try to hide their laughter.
Another call echoed through the square. All the banns had been called. Only the ceremony of marriage itself remained.
They hurried now, placing a wimple of lace on Edlyn’s head and leaving her hair down as a sign that, although she wasn’t a virgin, she was still a virtuous lady. Quite a difference from a few hours ago, she noted bitterly. She had been rescued from her state of sin by a lord with unsubstantiated claims of loyalty and nobility.
The thin hose were white, the shoes of painted leather were too large but very tooled and detailed, so the nuns ignored her complaint and stuffed bits of cloth in the toes. Then she was ready for the ceremony that would mark her as a man’s chattel once more.
As they had done in her two previous marriages, they gave her a bouquet of myrtle and rosemary to hold. This time, she threw it down.
“An inauspicious beginning,” one of the nuns muttered.
“’Tis not flowers Lord Hugh wants of her.” Lady Neville adjusted Edlyn’s wimple. “But he’ll have to work for what he wants. It’s good for a man to have to concentrate on his woman.”
The afternoon sun lashed at Edlyn’s eyes as she stepped outside. She blinked and raised her hand to her face until she had adjusted to the glare, and when she lowered her hand, she wished she hadn’t. Everyone stood in that square. They’d formed a path through the midst of them that led right to the church steps, where the abbot, Wharton, and Hugh stood waiting.
What irked Edlyn was that Hugh had obviously remained calm throughout the afternoon’s preparations. He never had a doubt she would do what he desired, and it made her wish she’d held on to the flowers so she could publicly toss them in the dirt. Her impulsiveness had cost her a grand gesture.
Someone nudged her in the back. She didn’t move, so someone pushed her, and she stumbled over her own feet as she started down the aisle of watching eyes and grinning mouths.
“I don’t want to,” she whispered to herself. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to.”
Her rebelliousness reminded her of that first wedding to the old duke. She’d been young and frightened that day, aware she had no choice and helpless to stop the events. Now she felt the same except she wasn’t frightened, but the helplessness drove her to glare at Hugh with all the venom she could muster.
His expression, one of carefully maintained affability, retreated to gravity, and he seemed to gain some sense of the task he’d set for himself. How would he placate his bride?
He wouldn’t, because she was determined not to be placated. Mounting the stairs, she let her steps drag in obvious protest. He smiled faintly. When she reached him, he took her hands—empty of flowers—nodded to the abbot, and the swearing ceremony began.
When Hugh vowed to care for her even after his death, her toes curled in her too-large shoes.
A warrior. He was a warrior. And he would die like all the rest. Like all the young men Robin had gathered around him. Like Robin himself.
She whispered her vows, and they were wed. A cheer rippled through the crowd, growing as Hugh freed her hands, but only so he could wrap his arms around her waist and bring her close.
“Edlyn.” He bent his head and brought his mouth close for the kiss of peace. “Stop pouting,” he whispered.
She wasn’t pouting. She was crying, and he saw the welling of tears.
“Sweeting, what’s wrong?”
He could afford to croon now. He had won everything.
“Sweeting?”
The cheers had subsided to buoyant babblings, but one sharp voice soared above the rest. “My lord, I want to be the first to congratulate you.”
It was Baron Sadynton, his meager mouth pinched into an affected smile, and Hugh raised his head like a wolf sniffing danger.
“It’s extraordinarily compassionate of you to marry this woman, especially after your actions of last summer. The king must be proud of your peaceful overtures.”
Edlyn didn’t like Sadynton. Had never liked him. Thought him a whiner and a troublemaker, and she knew he held her responsible for denying him his syrup of poppies. But his satisfaction in this instance made her more than uneasy. It made her ill. She clutched at Hugh’s arms, unaware that alarm encouraged her to hold him as he wished.
When Wharton headed toward Sadynton with his fists clenched, she clutched Hugh even harder.
Sadynton backed up and talked faster. “I never thought to see the day the widow of the earl of Jagger would marry the earl of Roxford.”
Her hands fell to her sides.
“It’s not often a woman will wed the man who hanged her husband.”
8
Hugh, commander of the royal troops in the West, watched as Edlyn disappeared into the woods.
“Ye going after her?” Wharton asked.
“Nay.” Hugh couldn’t believe he was saying that, but Lady Corliss’s reprimands clung to his mind. Not that he let a mere woman influence his decisions, but the abbess showed unusual wisdom in her decisions. Also—and he admitted this grudgingly—he suspected the abbess might comprehend the workings of Edlyn’s mind better than he did. “Let her go.”
“What?” Wharton danced around like a rooster plucked of its tail feathers. “But ye didn’t hang him.”
Hugh snorted. “Not personally.” But he had captured Robin, earl of Jagger, and sent him into the prince’s hands, where he’d been executed. That was the reason why, even after he’d regained enough strength to protect himself from assassins, he’d remained quiet. He’d hoped to lay claim to Edlyn before she discovered his identity.
A real claim. A physical claim. The kind of claim no woman could forget or dismiss.
He responded to the thought of placing that physical claim on Edlyn with a hard shudder of desire.
Nay, he couldn’t let her wander alone in the woods as she wished. He had to make sure she would return to him, willingly or not. “Wharton, you know her best. Go after her. Keep out of her sight, yet keep her in yours. I’m not comfortable with her wandering the woods alone.”
“If ye’d go after her yerself, ye wouldn’t have t’ have me sneaking around like a mole after a worm,” Wharton protested.
“You flatter neither yourself nor the lady. She’ll be better after a brisk walk, then I can explain my actions to her.”
Wharton scoffed. “Don’t explain t’ women. Just give ’em a bop on th’ head an’ they’re better fer it
.”
“I’ll give you a bop on the head if you don’t get after her,” Hugh answered. “And I’ll thank you to keep your marriage advice to yourself.”
“Been married more often than ye,” Wharton replied insolently.
Hugh knew his man well. “And how many of your wives are you still married to?”
Glancing at the abbot, Wharton lowered his voice. “Two fer sure. Mayhap three.”
“I am reassured,” Hugh said sarcastically. “Now go.”
With a nod, Wharton started along the path Edlyn had taken in her flight from her new husband.
Hugh called, “Remember, she is my lady and the greatest treasure of my soul. Treat her as such.”
Wharton raised his hand in acknowledgement.
The nuns stood at the back of the crowd, and Hugh heard one say plaintively, “But we didn’t get to throw the wheat.”
Wheat for fertility. Wheat for increase. Wheat for a son of his from Edlyn’s body. Aye, he wanted that ceremony with the wheat, but Lady Corliss shepherded the nuns toward the cloister and they obeyed as good women should. By God’s gloves, when Lady Corliss spoke, he would obey, too. The woman was an autocrat—and a holy woman.
Hugh’s men lined themselves along the bottom of the stairs, and Hugh started toward them. They were his own personal troops, the men he had gathered around him through the years. A dozen knights, twenty squires, and the menservants for them all, they had remained in the area after the battle, hiding themselves and Hugh’s possessions on Wharton’s instruction for fear of giving away Hugh’s position. Now they had gathered for his wedding and watched solemnly the scene that played before their gazes.
As he descended the stairs, he spotted Baron Sadynton watching him with a satisfied sneer. Without a thought, Hugh changed directions, planted his fist right in Sadynton’s face, and before Sadynton had even toppled, strode into the crowd of his men.
A Knight to Remember Page 10