by Anne Herries
Hearing someone come in, she spoke without turning her head. ‘I think perhaps the blue silk gown and the white kirtle. And I shall wear the silver belt that is studded with crystal…’
‘I think not,’ a voice said, making her jump and turn to look at the man who stood there. ‘I should like to see you dressed in green for I have brought you a gift.’
Melissa hugged the towel about her body, looking at him uncertainly. ‘The blue is my best gown,’ she said, her voice whispery and startled. ‘I meant to wear it to honour you this night.’
‘I thank you for the thought,’ Rob said. ‘But this will go better with green I believe.’
He handed her a small velvet pouch. She loosed the drawstrings and tipped the contents into her hand, gasping as she saw the heavy gold chain set with green stones. It was a very beautiful thing.
‘I have never seen stones like these before,’ she said. ‘What are they called?’
‘The French call them esmeraude, the Spanish esmeralda—but the man I purchased them from said they were emeralds and of a fine quality for they are not flawed.’
‘Emeralds,’ Melissa said, and nodded. ‘I have heard of them for some say that they have magic properties and cure the falling sickness—but I did not know they were so beautiful.’
‘I bought them to match your eyes,’ Rob said, and his gaze lingered on the flesh that had been revealed as she let the cloth slip while she opened her gift. The swell of her breasts was open to his gaze and he moved towards her, his hand brushing against her flesh as he took the chain and held it to her throat. ‘Yes, they will look well enough, Melissa. You will wear them and your green tunic this evening. There will be a feast tonight and I do not want you to shame me, as you did this morning.’ He had donned his best for her and she had come dressed little better than a kitchen wench.
‘If that is your command,’ Melissa said stiffly. She had been pleased with his gift, but she did not like to be ordered what to wear. Or that he should imply she might shame him by wearing her old clothes.
Rob laughed. ‘Scratch me with your claws if you wish, my sweet,’ he murmured, ‘but I shall teach you to please me whether you wish it or no.’
‘Go away,’ Melissa said. ‘And send my women to me. I shall dress as I please, sir. I may be your wife, but I am not your serf!’
‘Have I said that you were?’ The smile faded from his eyes. ‘Do as you wish, Melissa. I thought to please you, but if I have not I am sorry.’
He turned and walked from the room, still clutching the chain of gold and emeralds, but at the door he stopped and flung them down in disgust, as if he had had enough of her.
Melissa stood where she was for a moment as the door slammed behind him, then she darted forward to pick up his gift. She had not meant to slight what he had given her, for it was a magnificent present and she had never seen anything finer. It must have cost a great deal of money, and she had not thought Rob a particularly rich man. He possessed a sizeable estate but was not as wealthy as some of the powerful lords that owned vast acres. And that made his gift all the more precious for he had sacrificed other things to buy it for her.
She was ashamed of her sullen behaviour and determined to do better. Lady Gifford was right. She did not wish to turn Rob from her by being sulky and capricious. She would behave with dignity this evening in the hall and give him no reason to be ashamed of her.
She would wear her cloth of gold, which was her second best kirtle—and the green gown he admired. His gift would go very well with that, and she would fasten it about her waist.
She smiled as she fingered the chain of precious jewels. He had said that their colour matched her eyes, and that made her feel warm inside. If he truly loved her she would be happier than she had ever thought would be her fate.
‘Love me, please,’ she whispered. ‘For I love you so…’
Rob watched as his bride approached the high table. She was wearing the gown he liked, with a squared neckline and a band of embroidered gold that crossed over beneath her breasts, emphasising the slenderness of her figure. The emeralds were fastened about her waist with a gold clasp. She looked regal, almost a queen as she came to take her place at his side. She was to sit at his right hand that night for as a bride she took pride of place over Lady Gifford.
His men got to their feet and cheered her as she walked through the middle of the hall, turning her head to neither side, her eyes looking straight ahead at him. Rob got to his feet. He took the hand she offered and raised it to his lips, pulling back the chair for her so that she might sit. He did not sit immediately, but lifted his wine cup in homage to her.
‘I ask you all to toast my bride,’ he said, and brought a roar of approval from the men. They all rose as one, her name on their lips.
‘The lady Melissa of Melford!’
Melissa’s stomach churned as they said her name, for until now it had not seemed real. She had spent her wedding day as she might have spent any other and it had hardly seemed that anything had changed, but now she realised that she was Rob’s wife—his to order as he wished.
She had been defiant when he told her what he wished her to wear, but she knew that he had the right to do so. He had the right to order everything she did and to chastise her if she disobeyed him. But he would not. Surely he would not!
‘Drink and eat, Melissa,’ he told her as he resumed his seat. ‘I think you will find the wine more to your taste this evening.’
She took a sip from the cup she had been given, discovering it was a white wine with a soft sweet flavour. It was delicious and cool, and she drank deeply before replacing the cup on the table.
‘It is very good, sir,’ she told him. ‘I do not think I have tasted better—where did it come from?’
‘I had it brought from France when I returned home earlier this year,’ Rob told her. ‘There were a few casks in my train, though most is now in the cellars of my home in Melford.’
‘Your home…’ Melissa faltered. She had no idea what kind of a house he lived in. Indeed, she knew hardly anything about the man she had married, except that his smile had once made her lose her heart to him. She wished that he would smile at her now, but his expression was serious. ‘When shall we go to your home, sir?’
‘Alas, I cannot tell,’ Rob said, and frowned, for it was his greatest wish to take her there. ‘I have more work to do for the King, Melissa. I must make this fortress secure and then…’ He shook his head. ‘But we should not speak of business this night. It is our wedding night.’
‘You did not consider that this morning,’ Melissa told him, a flash of temper in her eyes as she remembered how that had made her feel.
‘Did that annoy you, my sweet?’ Rob grinned at her. The pleasure he anticipated later had made him shrug off his anger at the way she had dismissed his gift. It seemed that she had changed her mind later, though he would have preferred to see the emeralds about her white throat. ‘I had much to do and it could not wait.’
‘The wedding might have waited until you had more time.’
‘Swish your tail, my little kitten,’ Rob said, much amused for it appeared that she had been offended by his neglect. ‘Fear not, I shall make up for my offence this night.’
Melissa’s cheeks flushed pink as she saw the look in his eyes. She turned her head away and spoke to Owain, who sat on her right hand. It was a little unusual for a man of his birth to be honoured thus, but she was pleased to see him there for she felt that he was the one person in her life who had always been constant to her.
‘I am glad you are here, Owain,’ she told him. ‘There is no one else who means so much to me.’
‘Thank you, my lady,’ Owain said, and smiled for her words had pleased him. He had protested that it was not fitting when Rob told him he must sit beside Melissa, but now he was grateful to be so honoured by his friend. ‘I am flattered by your words.’
‘But I do mean them,’ Melissa said. ‘Lord Whitbread was never kind to me. If I hav
e known a father’s love, it has come from you—and I thank you for it.’
‘It was my pleasure to serve you.’
Owain’s throat felt tight but he smiled and held his tongue.
‘Will you dance, Melissa?’
Rob claimed her attention as he whispered against her ear. She looked at him in bewilderment, but even as she wondered a man got up from one of the benches and began to play his viol and sing.
‘Michael is a minstrel,’ Rob said. ‘He asked if he might sing for us this evening and I said that I thought you would like it.’
‘Yes, indeed I do,’ Melissa replied. She smiled for the song was one of her favourites and told the story of a lady who left her rich husband to run away with the Gypsies. ‘I have always loved this song.’
‘It is a sweet enough tune,’ Rob said, ‘though I cannot approve the lady’s choice.’
Melissa gave him her hand. ‘Had I been forced to a marriage I could not like I might have done as she did.’ Her eyes flashed at him, her head lifted proudly.
‘Does that mean I shall have to lock you in the tower when we get home, Melissa?’
She had been speaking of the Marquis of Leominster, but she would let him think as he pleased. ‘Perhaps,’ she said, and gave him a challenging look. ‘Do you have a tower at your home, husband?’
‘Not like your father’s Keep,’ Rob said, and there was laughter in his eyes for he knew that she was tempting him. He led her onto the floor and they performed a stately dance of pointing toes and graceful curtsies from her, bows from him. Melissa was surprised at how well he danced until she recalled that he had lately been in France at Henry Tudor’s court there. ‘But there are tower rooms at the four corners of the main structure, though I think you will find them more comfortable than this house, lady wife.’
‘Indeed?’ she said, for she had thought the earl’s home comfortable enough. ‘I become curious, sir.’
‘You shall see soon enough,’ Rob said, and smiled. He bowed once more as the minstrel’s song ended, leading her back to the table. When they sat down a fiddler began to play and some of the men got up to dance a jig, which was fast, furious and amusing. One of them did tumbling tricks and another juggled with clubs. ‘We have no travelling players to amuse us—but some of my men thought they would supply the lack. I trust they do not displease you with their efforts?’
‘No, of course not,’ Melissa said, and clapped her hands as one of the men performed a mummer’s dance for them. ‘It is amusing to watch them, and I am grateful for their thought.’
‘At home we often have entertainers,’ Rob told her with a smile. ‘My father gave them bed and board for a few nights and they came regularly. I think that I shall continue the practice for it passes the hours of darkness, do you not agree?’
‘Yes,’ Melissa said. ‘Father would never admit them for fear that they carried disease or planned to rob him—but I watched the mummers on the village green sometimes and I have seen a miracle play in the marketplace.’
‘Good,’ he nodded. ‘I see that we shall do well enough, wife. I think that you should go up now, Melissa. Let your women prepare you for bed and I shall come to you at ten bells.’
‘Yes…’ Melissa rose from the table, her head high as she walked from the hall. The men had been drinking steadily throughout the evening and she could hear some jests that made her cheeks burn, but she did not turn her head to look at them. They were entitled to make merry, but she hoped that Rob would not bring too many of them to her chamber for the bedding ceremony.
Alone in her room, she allowed Morag to help her disrobe and then dismissed her. She brushed her long hair for some time, feeling uneasy and then got up to pace about the room. Melissa had no mother to advise her how to behave towards her husband—and Lady Gifford had told her that she must be meek and welcome her husband to her bed. Yet to behave thus was against her nature and she could not do it! Had Rob told her that he loved her, had he not threatened her, ordered her to wear what he chose, she might have been eager for his embrace. However, there was a stubborn imp on her shoulder that would not let her be the obedient wife her aunt had bid her be.
She went over to the window to stare out at the night sky. A sprinkling of stars lit the darkness, making her sigh for it was a night meant for romance. Yet she was a bride who did not know her husband’s mind. She gave a little sob, covering her face with her hands for this was not what she wanted. She longed to be Rob’s wife, but only if he truly loved her.
‘Why do you weep?’
Melissa was startled for she had not heard him come in. She turned ‘round to look at him. He had taken off the rich clothes he had worn for their feast and wore just a simple tunic, his feet bare. As he walked towards her she smelled a pleasant woody scent, mixed with the freshness of soap and she knew that he had bathed before coming to her.
‘I was not weeping,’ she said, lifting her head though she trembled inside.
‘Do not lie to me, Melissa,’ Rob said, and his voice was harsh. ‘Do you fear me so much? I had thought that we did well enough together earlier this evening—but now you tremble.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Is it because of this?’ He touched the scar on his cheek. ‘Do you feel revulsion at the thought of being kissed by a monster like me?’
‘No!’ Melissa cried, but she flinched away as he reached for her. ‘No, do not touch me I beg you. This marriage was not of my asking. I do not know you…’
‘You knew me well enough when you first promised to love me all your life,’ Rob said, and his eyes sparked with anger. He reached for her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh, making her cry out. ‘You are my wife, Melissa. And I shall take what is mine. You cannot deny me.’
‘I know that I cannot,’ Melissa said, and tears trickled down her cheeks, into her mouth. ‘I know that I must obey you in all things and that I must smile and welcome you—but how can I when…’
‘When my face gives you a disgust of me?’ Rob let her go, his desire fading as he saw what he imagined was fear and revulsion. ‘No, I should not have expected it. Well, I am not a monster, though you think it, lady, and I shall not force you to my will. You are mine and in time you must become my wife for both our sakes, but I shall leave you to sleep in peace this night.’
He turned and went out as silently as he had come, leaving Melissa to stare after him, the tears rolling down her cheeks. She sank to her knees, covering her face with her hands as she wept. It had all gone so terribly wrong. Rob thought that she feared him because his face disgusted her, but it was not so. She loved him so much that her heart was breaking, but her pride would not let her confess it, knowing as she did that he did not truly love her.
And yet he had given her a beautiful wedding gift that must have been bought before he came to this place. He had arranged a feast and sweet wine to please her and his men had entertained her. He must surely care for her, which meant that she had been foolish.
She had not intended to let him see her weeping but he had come upon her unawares. He had taken her tears to mean that she regretted her marriage to a man she disliked—but that was not so. She had wept because she wanted him to love her and she had thought that he did not.
If he did not love her, why had he not simply taken what he wanted of her? If she was no more than a piece of property he had taken by force, he might have used her as he would. It was what most men did after all. She was not so innocent that she did not know that many wives were desperately unhappy in their marriages. Yet Rob had not forced her. In his anger he had threatened that he would take what was his, but in truth he had done all he could to please her.
Melissa realised that Rob was suffering from hurt pride, just as she herself had been. He had been treated like a dog and disfigured by her brother—and he had been told that she wanted it done because he had insulted her. Was it any wonder that he had been angry? How could she expect that he would greet her with soft words and looks of love? She ought to have known that anger lent ha
rshness to his tongue.
What could she do to repair the damage she had done? Should she go to him in the morning and beg his pardon? It would offend her pride to beg for his forgiveness, but if she must then she would do it. And yet…She took a turn about her bedchamber, her mind seeking an alternative to what seemed her only choice, and then she smiled.
She was not the meek wife that her aunt had told her she must be, but she did not believe that it was a meek wife that Rob wanted. If he loved her it was because she was bold and proud—and she would carry out her daring plan even if it was shocking.
She slipped on a velvet mantle over her night rail, and slipped out through the outer chamber. It was empty that night for she had sent her women to sleep elsewhere. She knew that Rob’s chamber was at the far end of the gallery for she had seen it when she was checking the linen earlier. A few torches still flared in the iron sconces that held them to the stone walls, but Melissa could see easily enough by the light that came from an emerging moon and she fled along the gallery on bare feet. Outside the room she knew to be Rob’s, she hesitated, her heart pounding.
Dare she go in without being invited? Would he still be awake or had he fallen asleep? It must be an hour or more since he had left her. She had spent some time in examining her thoughts and deciding what she wanted of her marriage, but now she knew. She knew what she must do, even if it meant humbling her pride.
Opening the door softly so as not to disturb him, Melissa let herself into Rob’s chamber. He had not left a candle burning but the moonlight flooded into the room through an open window and she could see that he was lying in his bed. He had thrown down the gown he had been wearing when he came to her, and, as she approached the bed, she saw his naked shoulder for he had put off all but one thin cover, because the night was warm.
Melissa caught her breath, approaching as silently as she could lest he wake and challenge her before she could do what she intended. As she drew near, he groaned and cried out in his sleep. She froze to the spot for she thought that he would sit up and accuse her of something, but he merely sighed restlessly. She let her cloak slip to the ground, then lifted the thin coverlet and slid into the bed beside him, moving closer that she could feel the warmth of his body through her thin shift. She pressed her lips to his bare arm, hoping that he would wake and take her into his arms, but instead he moaned and threw out his arm as if in a dream.