by Anne Herries
‘It is not your woman,’ Rob said. ‘Do not be frightened. I have not come to harm you. I merely wished to see you.’
Melissa sat up in bed, drawing the covers up to her neck to cover herself. She was beginning to see better as her eyes became accustomed to the dark, and some of her fear ebbed as she realised that it was Rob.
‘What are you doing here? Why have you come to my chamber in the dead of night?’
‘I was on my way to my bed when I thought of you,’ Rob said. ‘Go back to sleep. I shall not disturb you further.’
Melissa gathered a silk coverlet about her, holding it tight as she got out of bed, for her night chemise was so fine that she would have felt naked in his presence without the cover. She stood looking at him warily, sensing that there was more to this than he would say.
‘Did you think to ravish me as I lay sleeping?’ she demanded. ‘Where is your honour, sir? You have no right here. You must leave my chamber at once.’ Perversely it was the last thing she truly wanted, but she could never tell him what was in her mind.
‘Must I?’ Rob had been about to leave, but her defiance inflamed him. He reached out, snatching the cover away from her, revealing the flimsy material that hid little of her body from his eyes. She was so beautiful, so desirable that he could not help himself as he moved towards her, reaching out to pull her hard against him. His head bent, he took possession of her lips, his tongue seeking and entering her mouth. She tasted of the honey she had drunk earlier and he slid his hand down the arch of her back, cupping her buttocks as he pressed her harder against him.
‘No!’ Melissa gave a cry of alarm as she felt the throb of his arousal. ‘You must not do this, Rob. Please, I beg you—do not force me. Leave me now before it is too late…’ Her head was whirling and she knew that if he persisted she could not resist him, for her body clamoured for his.
Rob’s mind was confused, his senses inflamed. He knew that he wanted her more than anything he had ever wanted before in his life and he was tempted to throw her down upon the bed and make love to her. Yet even as his arms tightened about her, he glanced down and saw her pale, unhappy face, and something turned in his stomach. Realising that for the first time in his life he had been on the verge of taking an unwilling woman, he let her go, moving away from her. He breathed deeply, raggedly, staring at her hungrily as he fought to subdue his need.
‘Go away, Rob,’ she said softly. ‘I beg you, leave me.’
‘Yes,’ he said, and shook his head. ‘It was wrong to come here like this. Tomorrow I shall arrange for us to be wed. You shall be my wife before I bed you.’
‘No, please…’ Melissa stared after him as he left the room. She had wanted to marry him so desperately, would have died rather than marry another man—but now she was torn by doubts. Rob wanted her because she had lands and was the daughter of a lord. It was no different from her being given by her father to a man for the acquisition of lands and wealth.
She felt the tears well up in her eyes as she ran for her bed, and lay with her face buried in the pillows as she sobbed. She did not know why Rob had come to her chamber that night—or why he had changed his mind about seducing her—but she did know that she did not want to be married for the sake of her inheritance.
Rob awoke suddenly from the heavy sleep that had claimed him when he fell into his bed the previous night. He was aware of pain at his temples, and he blinked as he saw the sun streaming through the small windows of his chamber. He was a damned fool to have drunk so much ale the previous night. He had vague recollections of something he had done while in his cups, though he could not quite recall what had happened. He seemed to remember that he had gone to Melissa’s chamber, where she lay sleeping and…
He groaned and splashed cold water into his face to freshen himself. He noticed that his scar had become more inflamed and that side of his face had swollen; it had begun to throb like the devil. He shrugged the pain aside, knowing that he had more important worries than an infected wound.
What had he done the previous night? His memory was hazy. He knew that he had wanted her, had kissed her—but what else had he done or said? Whatever it might have been, in the cold light of dawn he knew that there was only one cure for what ailed him. She must be his wife for he could not endure the gnawing ache the thought of her belonging to another man set up in him.
He would wed her, bed her and forget her! Was that not the age-old cure for the kind of lust that possessed him now? He nodded his satisfaction. Just because he ached to lie with her, it did not necessarily mean that he loved her. He would take her for the wealth and lands she would bring, the sons she would give him and the ease he would find in her soft flesh.
If Rob suspected that he was lying to himself, he was too proud to admit it. Even though the need for her nagged at him like the toothache, he still could not entirely forgive what had been done in her name. The bitterness had burned too deeply into his mind to be erased by a smile, even though her smile was something he craved as he craved the sweetness of her kiss and the perfume of her skin.
He finished his ablutions and dressed in a clean shirt, trunks and hose. He would wear a houppelande of green over a tunic of gold and a burlet of black velvet trimmed with gold and pearls in honour of the occasion. Today would be his wedding day.
Melissa awoke, shrugging off the dream that had caused her to toss restlessly on her bed. She had been so afraid but she could not recall why—though she seemed to remember that she was in a dark place. She had been cold and hungry and she had called someone’s name as she lay on the chill of a stone floor, the life slowly draining from her. She had called but she had known that he would not come because he did not love her.
She threw back the bedcovers and got out of bed just as her serving woman came into the room carrying warm water in a pewter jug. The girl gave her an odd look but poured the water into a basin for her before laying out one of her best robes and kirtle.
‘I have work to do, Morag,’ she said with a frown. ‘One of my old gowns will do for this morning.’
‘But it is your wedding day,’ Morag said. She gave Melissa a nervous glance, for she knew the lady’s temper had suffered of late, and not knowing that Agnes had deserved her dismissal to the kitchens was afraid of the same fate. ‘I was told to dress you in your finest clothes, my lady.’
‘My wedding day?’ Melissa wrinkled her brow. She knew that Rob had said he would marry her before he bedded her, but she had thought it merely an idle threat. ‘I have no recollection of having been betrothed to anyone. Nor shall I consent to this wedding.’
‘Please, my lady,’ Morag said. ‘Do not send me to tell him that you refuse for I dare not. He frightens me when I look at him…his terrible face…’
‘Foolish woman!’ Melissa was angry with her. ‘It is merely a scar—a badge of honour for he had it in my cause.’
‘Then, if the scar does not frighten you, why will you not wed him?’
‘That is none of your affair,’ Melissa snapped. ‘I have my reasons but they are not for your ears. If you are afraid of Robert of Melford go to Hale and tell him I have refused to be wed.’
Morag shot her a scared glance but went off to do her bidding. Melissa washed and dried herself on a soft cloth, and then dressed in a reddish brown kirtle and a green wool tunic. She covered the top of her head in a cap of green silk, leaving the length of her hair free. Glancing at her reflection in a small hand mirror, she decided that she would do well enough for the work she intended that day, which was to help her aunt make an inventory of the linens and sort out those that needed mending.
She was about to leave her room when she heard the sound of a man’s boots on the stone steps leading to her room and she went back inside quickly. She had her back turned and was looking out of the window when Rob burst into the chamber.
‘Why have you dressed like that?’ he demanded as she turned towards him and he saw that she was wearing one of her oldest robes. ‘I sent word that you sh
ould prepare for our wedding.’
‘I have no memory of consenting to marry you.’ Melissa looked at him coldly, her green eyes flashing with temper.
‘Have you not, lady?’ Rob’s gaze narrowed, but at the corners of his mouth a smile tugged, for to him she resembled an angry kitten. A feeling he had thought lost was brought to life within him, and he wanted to laugh out loud. ‘How short your memory is, my sweet. For you once told me that you would marry no other.’
Melissa felt the fire spring up in her cheeks and her eyes dropped. ‘You do ill to remind me, sir,’ she whispered. ‘I thought myself in love then, but now…’
‘Now you wish to withdraw for you cannot stand the sight of my face?’
‘No! That is not true,’ Melissa cried. ‘I am not such a shallow thing that I would flinch at the sight of a scar, besides, it is not so very dreadful.’
‘Are you not?’ Rob’s gaze narrowed for he was not sure of her meaning. ‘If the sight of me does not revolt you, why do you resist? Would you prefer to be the widow of Leominster?’
‘No! You must know that I would rather have died than wed him,’ Melissa said. ‘I have decided that I do not wish to marry at all. Why should I be forced to be any man’s wife? I shall petition the King to give me a dowry against my lands so that I may retire to a nunnery.’ Even as she spoke, Melissa knew that she did not want to spend her life with the nuns, but her pride would not let her give in just yet. He did not love her. If she married him he would discover that she still loved him and then she would be at his mercy. ‘For pity’s sake, let me go, sir.’
‘No, I shall not,’ Rob said, and his mouth settled into a grim line, the good humour he had felt vanishing. ‘Why should I show mercy when none was shown to me?’ He moved towards her, gripping her wrist firmly. ‘If you will not be dressed as befits your station it is your choice, but you shall marry me, lady. The priest awaits us.’
‘No!’ Melissa tried to struggle free of him, but he had her fast and she could not escape him. She was forced to run to keep up with him as he propelled her from her chamber and down the stairs to the great hall below. ‘I shall not give my promise. I refuse to wed you!’
‘Refuse and I shall answer for you,’ Rob said, giving her a hard look. ‘You belong to me for you gave your promise freely, Melissa. In the old days that promise would have been binding in law, and in honour it is so even now. You are mine and I shall take what is mine, though you hate me for it.’
Melissa looked at him and saw his unyielding expression. She was angry, because despite her resistance she knew that in her heart this was exactly what she wanted. It was only her pride that stopped her throwing herself into his arms and telling him that she loved him and wanted nothing more than to be his wife.
She gave him a sparkling look but said no more, for in truth she did not know why she had fought so hard against him. It was merely pride after all—and what was the alternative? She knew only too well that if she were not wed to Rob she would be given to some other man of the King’s choosing. He would show no more care for her wishes than her father had.
She gave up resisting as they entered the hall. Lady Gifford was there with the steward, the priest, Owain and Agnes. Lady Gifford was dressed in velvet robes and frowned as she saw that Melissa was wearing an old gown.
‘Why did you not choose your cloth of gold?’ she asked as Melissa went to stand beside her. Melissa shook her head but made no answer. ‘Well, I suppose it does not matter after all. Sir Robert is determined that the marriage should take place at once, and he must have his wish.’
Melissa shot a look of venom at her bridegroom but held her tongue. Once again, she was at the mercy of others. Lady Gifford would do nothing to anger the man who held her future in his hands, and there was no one else to aid her.
‘I do not know whether this marriage be legal,’ the priest said with a worried shake of his head as Rob told him to proceed. ‘The betrothal ceremony was begun to the lord of Leominster’s proxy—and there is a contract signed by the lady’s father…’
‘Do your work, priest,’ Rob growled, ‘and leave me to worry about the legality of the matter. If there be a matter of conscience I shall bear it, not you.’
‘As you wish, sir.’
The priest was old, his beard grey, his eyes a faded blue. He did not see well these days and was unaware that the lady was not dressed for a wedding.
‘Give me your hand, lady,’ he said. ‘You must put it into Sir Robert’s and I shall tie it with this ribbon for the ceremony.
Melissa opened her mouth to protest, looked at Rob and shut it again, offering her hand. She felt a tremor run through her as it was bound with Rob’s and the priest began to perform the ceremony that would make them man and wife.
‘Do you, Melissa of Whitbread, take this man—Robert of Melford to be your lawful wedded husband, to love honour and obey him until death do you part?’
Melissa licked her lips, which were dry and then inclined her head.
‘You must say I do, lady.’
She raised her head, looking directly at Rob, defiance in her face. ‘I do…’ she said in a loud clear voice.
‘And you, Sir Robert of Melford—do you take the lady Melissa of Whitbread to be your lawful wedded wife until death do you part?’
‘I do,’ Rob said, and smiled as he looked at her. ‘Until death and forever—for earthly death shall never part us.’ He slid a heavy gold ring on to the third finger of her left hand.
Melissa felt a little jolt as she looked into his eyes. He looked at her as if…as if he meant those words. For a moment she felt that she might faint, for if the look in his eyes spoke truly he still loved her—or at least wanted her.
‘You may kiss your bride, sir.’
Melissa gasped as Rob drew her to him, but instead of the passionate kiss she had expected, he merely brushed his lips over hers.
‘I shall teach you what it means to be the bride of Robert of Melford later, lady,’ he promised.
Melissa looked at him uncertainly as he drew back, her heart racing. He had a very different expression in his eyes now and it made her afraid. What did he mean? Did he intend to punish her for her defiance? She trembled inwardly for she was his wife now and must obey him.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, as he turned away almost immediately.
‘I have work to do, lady wife,’ he said, and gave her a wry look. ‘The fortress will not run itself. There is much to do if I am to leave it secure before I move on. Be patient, my love. I shall come to you later.’
Melissa stared after him as he strode away, feeling outraged. This was not how she had expected her marriage to be! There should have been feasting and merriment. It made her angry that he could just walk away from her, because he had work to do.
She wanted to rage at him, and wished that she had continued her defiance. How could he simply walk away, leaving her to wonder what was in his mind? It was unfair and arrogant and she hated him!
‘Come, Melissa.’ Lady Gifford was at her elbow. ‘I shall show you what needs doing and then leave you for I must change. I never thought to be dressed more finely than the bride. Why did you not wear your best gown? I told Morag to prepare it for you.’
‘You sent Morag to me…’ Melissa was thoughtful. She had imagined it was Rob who had given the woman instructions to dress her as a bride.
‘Of course I did, my dear,’ Lady Gifford said with a smile. ‘I know that Sir Robert is not the most handsome of men, because of that scar—but I believe he is not unkind. If you please him tonight, you will set the seal on your marriage. A woman should always try to please her husband, Melissa. If you wish to be happy do not be defiant or a scold—that way lies deep unhappiness, my dear.’
‘Why must a woman please her husband?’ Melissa asked, a flash of temper in her green eyes. ‘Why should it not be the other way—a man may please his wife equally, may he not?’
‘Yes, and perhaps he will—but you must be com
pliant and welcoming first,’ Lady Gifford said. ‘I tell you this for your own good, Melissa. A sullen wife wins no favours from her husband.’
‘I thank you for your advice,’ Melissa said. ‘But if you please, I would make a start on sorting the linen chests.’
‘Very well, go your own way,’ the lady of Gifford said with a shake of her head. ‘But if you alienate him, you may well come to rue it, Melissa. A man like that will take so much from a woman and no more, believe me.’
Melissa nodded but her expression was set. She was angry and humiliated by the way Rob had simply gone about his business, leaving her to do the same. She had just become his wife. Surely he could have spared a few moments to be alone with her!
Melissa called for the bathtub to be brought to her that afternoon. She had spent most of the day working and felt dusty and tired from her efforts, for she had sorted mountains of torn linen. Some had yellowed over time and needed to be washed, some were torn and fit only to be used as rags and some could be saved if a needle and thread was applied.
‘We have done a good job this day,’ Lady Gifford told her when they parted. ‘It is always my intention to sort the linen each year, but it is seldom that I am able to do it as thoroughly. You have been a great help to me, Melissa. I think you will be an excellent chatelaine for your husband when he takes you home.’
‘Perhaps…’ Melissa had felt a little shiver trickle down her spine as Lady Gifford spoke. She was beginning to feel very nervous about the night ahead and wished that she might escape from her duty in this respect.
After the wooden tub was brought and filled with warm, scented water, Melissa sat in it, her knees brought up to her chest as the women soaped her back and then poured fresh water over her. It felt very good to be clean again for she was naked, having dispensed with the thin shift that was often worn for bathing.
When she was ready to get out, she asked for a cloth to be brought and then dismissed her ladies. Standing up, she wrapped herself about with the soft material, drying her skin and singing a melody that she had learned as a child.