Blaze Wyndham

by Bertrice Small

  “The garderobe and your dressing room are through here,” said Heartha, pointing to a paneled door.

  Blaze was stunned. Her parents’ bedchamber wasn’t this big. “Was this Lady Catherine’s room?” she asked her servant.

  “Of course, my lady. By tradition this is the countess’s apartment, but my lord has had it redecorated for you. In Lady Catherine’s time the hangings were crimson, for ’twas her favorite color, and it suited her; but come, my lady, your tub will grow chill if we do not hurry.”

  Blaze looked to see a huge oak tub sitting before the fireplace. From it arose a fragrant steam. Their tub at home was half the size, but it seemed that everything here was larger. She allowed Heartha to undress her and bathe her. The tub water was oily and smelt of violets. When she was dry Heartha came forward to dress her in a cream-colored silk chamber robe. As she fastened the last of the small pearl buttons, Blaze glanced through the windows and saw that night had fallen. Heartha drew her over to the pier glass so she might see herself.

  “Are you not beautiful, my lady?” the tiring woman said. “You cannot fail but please his lordship.”

  It was then that Blaze realized that it was her wedding night. There had been no time to think today. So much had happened. Now suddenly she was to be faced by a bridegroom anxious to claim his rights, and equally eager to sire a child upon her. She gazed into the mirror and because she was no fool she saw a face and form created to tempt the strongest man. She saw a girl who stood no taller than five feet, three inches and whose clinging robe with its deep V neckline offered an enticing view of firm young breasts. Her brown-gold hair was loose and fluffy about her face, and poured down her back as soft as the silk against which it lay. She trembled, then started nervously at the knock upon the door.

  A pretty maidservant popped her head around the door, saying, “Excuse me, m’lady, but Cook wants to know if you are ready for supper to be served.”

  Before she might reply, Heartha did so for her. “Of course she’s ready, lass! Send the footmen quickly to remove that tub before his lordship comes. Hurry up now, girl!”

  Blaze watched in amazement as the footmen, eyes politely averted, hurried into the room to remove the tub, while through the door between her receiving room and her bedchamber she could see the maidservants setting up a table with snow-white linen and a silver candelabrum.

  “Shall I send for his lordship now, my lady?” Heartha asked.

  For a moment she hesitated, but then Blaze nodded. She had no excuse for denying him. It would certainly cause a scandal should she do so. She kept trying to remember what it was her mother had told her, but it kept getting mixed up with what her little sister had seen and reported upon to them all. She was becoming more frightened as each moment passed.

  How could she give herself to this stranger, no matter how kindly he was? She wanted to know him better. Right now she knew nothing of him but his name. She didn’t even know his birthdate, or if he liked music, or what his favorite food was. Suddenly she realized she was alone, and when a door well hidden in her bedroom paneling swung open, she almost screamed in her fright. Edmund Wyndham stepped into the room. He was wearing a quilted gown of dark green velvet.

  “Blaze, what is it? You look positively terrified,” he said, his voice rich with concern.

  “I ... I did n-not expect y-y-you to en-enter quite that w-way,” she managed to stammer.

  “The door connects my bedchamber with yours,” he explained. “It is not necessary that our comings and goings be public knowledge.”

  “Oh.” Did she look as great a fool as she felt?

  He moved to take her hand in his, leading her into the other room, where their supper awaited them at the table before the fireplace.

  “You must be quite hungry,” the earl said. “Tony told me that you stopped only briefly just after the noon hour for a small repast that your cook at Ashby packed. You will find the cook here at RiversEdge an artist of the first rank. Was your journey a pleasant one?”

  “Aye, my lord, it was. The countryside is so beautiful between Ashby and RiversEdge. I have never seen it before, nor the river this far north.”

  He smiled, and seated her at their supper table. “Tonight,” the earl said, “I shall serve you, my lady.” He walked to the sideboard, and taking a plate, filled it, pausing before each covered dish to consider before lifting the lid from it. When he set her plate before her, Blaze saw that she had a slice of delicate pink salmon set upon a bed of cress, a slice of breast and the wing of a capon that had been prepared with lemon-ginger sauce, a baby lamb chop, and some pale leafy greens that had been braised in white wine. There was a hot loaf upon the table, a silver crock of sweet butter, and two cheeses—a hard, sharp golden one and a soft French Brie with which Blaze was unfamiliar.

  The earl had filled two plates for himself. Upon one were at least a dozen open shells containing raw oysters, and upon the other was a large slab of beef, the leg and thigh of the capon, three chops, and some of the braised lettuce. Before sitting, Edmund Wyndham poured a fruity, dark red wine into the chased-silver goblets by each place. Seating himself opposite her, he cut two slices from the loaf and gave her one.

  “Have you ever been away from Ashby, Blaze?” he asked her.

  “Nay, my lord. No more than a few miles. On my twelfth birthday I asked to go to Hereford to see the cathedral. The trip was planned, but alas my younger sisters all came down with some complaint of the belly and running bowels, so we never went.” She shrugged, and bit into the capon wing.

  The earl wolfed down his oysters, then said, “When you are settled and comfortable here at RiversEdge, perhaps you would like to have your sisters for a visit.”

  “Ohh, yes, my lord!” Her very look lightened, and he suddenly realized that she was afraid. “Ohh, I should like that very much! I miss them already. We never thought to be separated from one another even in marriage, for of course none of us ever thought to make such a fine marriage.” Her words tumbled out hurriedly as her lovely violet-blue eyes looked directly at him, rendering him breathless with her beauty. “How can I thank you for your kindness, my lord?” she continued. “You have become a fairy godfather to us all by first making me your wife and then dowering my sisters so that they might make good matches also. I shall endeavor to be the best of wives to you, my lord, and surely God will bless us with the sons you desire!”

  Fairy godfather! He almost winced at her earnest words. For almost two months he had stared at her miniature, but the reality was far better than he could have ever anticipated, surpassing the painted image by far. He didn’t want to be her fairy godfather. He wanted to be her lover. She was the most tempting creature he had ever seen, and already he desired her. Instead he said in a calm and grave tone, “I am certain you will be a perfect wife, Blaze, and that we will have a houseful of children, some of whom will be sons.”

  They ate, and when they had pushed back their plates he noticed that her plate was still half full, though her goblet was empty. There was an apple tart upon the sideboard along with a bowl of clotted cream. Rising, he removed their dinner plates to that sideboard, and served them each a slice of the tart, placing cream upon their table. That, he noted, she ate. When they had finished and she had wiped the crumbs from her mouth, he arose. Coming around the table, he drew her up, slipping his arm about her waist.

  Blaze stiffened. She knew she should not, but she simply could not help it. Anxiously she bit her lower lip, her gaze now averted from his. She could feel her heart beginning to beat more rapidly within her chest. He is my husband, she thought desperately. I must acquiesce to his every demand. I must please him. I cannot give way to childish fears. I am a wife now. She trembled against him.

  “You are afraid,” he said quietly. It was a statement.

  “Aye,” she whispered, hating her cowardice.

  He tipped her little face up so he might look at her, and bending his own head, touched her lips with his. They were cold and stiff,
and at his touch she began to shake uncontrollably. He was surprised, but following his instincts, he held her in his protective embrace. “You are a virgin,” he said. Another statement. “It is natural for you to be afraid. Has your mother told you what to expect?”

  Mutely she nodded, hiding her head again from his direct glance.

  There was more to this, he realized, than just a virgin fearful of her first sexual encounter. “You must not be afraid of me, Blaze,” he said in a calm voice. “I want you to tell me why you are frightened. You must not worry about the fact that I am your husband, and think that you owe me any loyalty. I would have the truth from you, my dear. Truth between a husband and a wife is the cornerstone of a strong and happy marriage. Look at me now, sweetheart, and speak.”

  She raised her face to his, and her wonderful eyes looked into his. “I know that you will think me foolish, my lord, and I pray you not be angered by my words. I know that women wed with men that they do not know; and I know they are expected to bed with them immediately, but it is not my way. I do not know you. I know that you would have a son, for that is the purpose of our union. It has been pounded into me by my family for weeks, and by your nephew both yesterday and as we rode from Ashby this day.

  “Still, I am uncomfortable with the notion. I am happy and honored to have been chosen to be your wife. I swear to do my best to give you a son, but you, sir, have stolen my courtship from me. I would have it of you before you have my maidenhead! Perhaps you will not ever learn to love me, but I want more between us than sacred bonds and children. I already have evidence of your kindness. If you would just give me a little time until we could at least become friends. Is that so very much to ask?” she pleaded of him.

  To court his own wife. It was a fascinating and piquant idea, and strangely one that was not displeasing to him. He had grown up with his first wife. Their marriage had simply been the end result of a long friendship and practical necessity. Although he found that he already lusted after this charming stranger who was now his wife, he was a man of delicacy. The thought of bedding her so impersonally was, now that she had pointed it out, beginning to seem highly unattractive to him.

  Gently he grazed a knuckle over her right cheekbone, and then he said slowly, “What you say has merit, Blaze. I would very much enjoy paying you court. Passion between a man and a woman should be mutually enjoyable. Tell me, though: for how long is this courtship to go on?”

  “Will we both not know the right time to end it, my lord?” she answered him.

  “Why, Blaze,” he said with a smile, “what a wise little creature you are. Very well then, I will agree to your proposal. I shall court you with all the skill of my years and experience. Then when the right moment comes we will be united in the true sense of a man and his wife. First, however, I would teach you how to kiss.”

  “I have never kissed a man before,” she admitted.

  “It is painfully evident,” he teased. “Your lips were as cold as ice toward me, and worse, as stiff as untanned leather.”

  “Perhaps,” she returned with spirit, “now that I do not feel so threatened by you I will do better. Shall we try?” Closing her eyes so that her thick dark gold lashes fanned out across her cheeks, she raised her heart-shaped face to him, pursing her lips adorably.

  He almost laughed aloud at her artlessness. Damn, but she was sweet! He bent to kiss her, this time finding her more compliant within his arms. Her lips softened beneath his, as smooth and delicate as a rose petal, parting slightly with some deep and primitive instinct as he increased the pressure of his mouth upon hers. Finally he drew away reluctantly and quite intoxicated with the fresh innocence of her. He was almost dizzy with her kiss.

  “Is that better, my lord?” she asked him demurely. Her own heart was pounding violently. Her belly was doing flip-flops, and although she knew he could not know it, she could not quite focus her eyes clearly for a moment or two.

  More experienced, he managed to regain his equilibrium quicker, and he laughed to cover his own surprise. “Much better, madam. You are an apt pupil. I think you will make great progress under my expert tutelage.”

  Recovered slightly herself now, Blaze twinkled back at her husband. “I think, sir,” she said, “that you are probably a master of the art.”

  He caught her two hands in his, and raising them to his lips, kissed them. “I do not think, Blaze, that it will be hard to love you.”

  Her eyes widened with this flattery, and she thought silently to herself, although she was too shy to say it: Neither, my lord, do I think it will be hard to love you.

  “I know you are tired,” he told her. “Let me call Heartha to ready you for your bed.” He brushed her cheek with his lips. “Sleep well and safe, Blaze Wyndham.” Then he left her.

  She was almost sorry to see him go, for she had enjoyed their meal together, and his company. Still, she was relieved to be left her maiden state for at least the time being.

  While Blaze pondered her mixed feelings within the privacy of her bedchamber, her husband descended the main staircase of his house to the Great Hall of RiversEdge. There he found Anthony sprawled in a tapestry-backed chair by the fire enjoying a goblet of his best Rhenish. Edmund poured himself a matching goblet and joined his relative.

  “What, uncle? Not upstairs enjoying the favors of that tasty little sweetmeat I brought you?” Anthony grinned lecherously.

  “My many years have taught me, nephew, that a man cannot force a horse to water, nor an unwilling woman to his will,” was the droll reply.

  “She refused you?” The younger man sat up, looking aghast. “She is your wife, and you her lord.”

  Edmund Wyndham laughed. “Have you ever known me to force a woman, Tony? She is young, frightened, and a virgin. Until several hours ago she didn’t even know what I looked like. She wants to be courted.”

  “Courted?”

  “Aye, courted.”

  “But you’re already wed!”

  “Because a man is married doesn’t mean he should cease to court his wife. I must live with Blaze until death parts us, which I trust will not be for many years. How we begin will determine the course of our lives together. Should I destroy our chance for happiness to satisfy a moment’s lust? God and his Blessed Mother forbid it! Blaze wants a little time to know me, and she is right. I intend giving it to her.” He drank deeply from the goblet.

  “I do not understand you, Edmund. You mourned Cathy a full year, during which time you did not to my knowledge lie with any woman. You then immediately sought for a new wife. You even hurried the wedding day in order to soothe the nerves of your people. I still do not believe you have had a woman. Now this lovely creature is wed with you, and you will not lie with her because it does not suit her. Will you not spoil her with such indulgence, and lead her to believe that it is she who wears the breeches in this family?”

  “You do not understand women, Tony. Blaze is here, and that is the important thing for my people. Whether I bed her tonight, or few weeks hence, will make no difference to anyone but ourselves. You have never had a serious relationship with a woman in your life. You do not comprehend that a wife cannot be treated like a common whore. Blaze would get to know me before she gives herself to me. She has denied me nothing, but rather pleaded her case quite well.”

  “God’s foot! You’re already besotted with the little creature, but let me warn you, Edmund, that I have seen a side of your bride that I hope you will not soon see. She has quite a temper for such a small thing.”

  “Aye, I expect that she does, for most women do. Did she turn that temper upon you when you lectured her about her duties to produce an heir for me?” His brown eyes were twinkling with amusement.

  “She told you that?” Anthony was surprised.

  “Aye, she told me. She was very outraged, for it seems that everyone has been preaching to her of her duty toward me since our betrothal became official. She was willing to take such instructions from her family and her priest, but I�
�m afraid she did not consider it your place, Tony. I should like to see her in anger!” He chuckled.

  “I’m going home,” said Anthony, disgusted. “There’s a moon to light my way, and I suppose I had best see Mother before tomorrow. She will be mightily curious about my new aunt.”

  “Tell Doro that Blaze and I will receive Father Martin’s blessing before our people upon the church steps at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. I would like her there. Will your father be well enough to come?”

  “If it does not rain or grow damp, he should be fine,” said Anthony. “How I dread the coming winter! I have never seen Father so crippled up as he was last winter. Yet he is so brave. He rarely complains.”

  “Your father is not a young man any longer. He is close to sixty, Tony, and he has never been strong of limb. I am surprised that he has survived this long. It is a tribute to Dorothy’s determination, for she has loved your father her whole life. That’s the kind of love I would have develop between myself and Blaze. Can you understand that?”

  Anthony Wyndham arose from his chair. “Aye, Edmund, I think I can.”

  “You should really think about seeking a wife yourself now, Tony. You are your father’s only heir, and in a position to make a good match.”

  “I thought of that myself today,” came the reply. “Perhaps one of my new aunt’s sisters. They seem to be a comely, lively bunch of girls, and the stock is good. Aye, it would please my father to dandle grandchildren upon his knee before he dies.”

  The earl now arose himself, and putting an arm about his nephew, he walked with him from the hall to the main door of the house. Within minutes Anthony’s horse was brought around. Mounting it, he rode off northwest along the river road to his own home of Riverside. Edmund watched him go until he was out of sight. Then he stood for a long minute in the warm September night staring up at the moon, which was almost full. Finally with a sigh he stepped back into the house, closing the door behind him, and sought his own yet lonely bed.