A Warrior's Bride

by Margaret Moore

  That Rufus would be surprised to see her in a proper dress was not unexpected, but she had not foreseen the stunned shock on Rufus’s face, which had turned to admiration and even awe. All at once she felt as if she were in the presence of a stranger. But she needed and wanted a friend.

  As she sat beside Rufus in the hall of Ravensloft, she realized it was a good thing George was not at home, or he might have seen Rufus’s reaction and taken it for confirmation of their illicit liaison.

  “It must have been important business, to take him away so soon after your marriage,” Rufus noted, not looking at her.

  “He thought it was,” she replied.

  A sudden clap of thunder made them both look at the windows, where they could see the first drops of rain. Rufus rose at once. “I had best see that my men attend to all the horses and baggage before everything gets soaked through,” he said gruffly.

  “Very well,” Aileas said. “I will have a servant show you and your men to your quarters.” He nodded, so like a stranger in that moment that she could hardly bear it. “It is so good to have you here, Rufus!” she said quietly, fervently and truthfully.

  Rufus hurried away. His horses did not need his particular attention or care; it was simply that he could scarcely abide remaining with Aileas, who was so little like the happy, spirited woman he had known.

  The woman Sir George de Gramercie was apparently slowly destroying.

  George stared out the window of the hall in the manor house of his smallest estate. The rain had interrupted the hunting, and now he had nothing to do but look out at the water and mud and think about Aileas.

  As well as the decision he had made regarding their future.

  He had come to the conclusion that their marriage had been a foolhardy mistake, based on lust and loneliness and little else.

  He might have been able to-overlook her inability to act as a proper lady should, for there had been some improvement under Margot’s tutelage. He might have been able to get used to her temper, or her suspicious nature.

  But he simply could not overcome his anger at the thought that she had shared her bed with another man, or—even worse—men. He could not ignore the fact that she come to him under false pretenses, and that she was a dishonorable woman.

  Nor could he risk the possible consequences of the anger she created in him. She made his temper ungovernable. Every emotion he experienced became magnified when he was with her, and he was without control. It was even conceivable that one day, he would get so enraged he would hurt her. He would act like the basest and weakest of tyrants.

  He would never allow that to happen. Better he should end the marriage than behave so.

  Once back at Ravensloft, he would tell Aileas of his decision and begin the process of having the marriage annulled. That would not be difficult in itself. He had many fnends in the church, and he was sure one of them could find some obscure legal impediment to the marriage, such as a distant familial relationship. These things were done often enough.

  He would say nothing more of his suspicions regarding Aileas’s dishonor, not to Aileas or her father or anyone, in the same way that he would not reveal his own weakness. He owed her that for the time of blissful happiness he had shared with her.

  She would be able to marry again, and so would he, if he had any inclination to take such a gamble a second time.

  There would be some talk, but he was sure anyone who knew Aileas would think that she simply didn’t suit his temperament, and he could easily imagine several gossips claiming they knew all along that his marriage to Aileas Dugall was a mistake. His expression became a sardonic smile. Aileas’s next husband might even credit him with teaching Aileas her particular skills.

  He should have acted on this resolution two days ago, when he had finally made it. Yet because of his feelings for her, the undeniable love he felt for her—for she made him feel that strongly, too—he had delayed his return.

  A horseman appeared at the gate in the wooden wall that surrounded the small, muddy courtyard. The guard let him in, and the man quickly dismounted and hurried toward the manor hall.

  Something was wrong. George’s throat constricted as he wondered if Aileas had taken a turn for the worse. He had sent messengers every day to know how she fared, and the last had reported that she was much improved and certainly out of danger.

  But that had been yesterday.

  He anxiously hurried to the door, just ahead of Richard, who had been examining some ledgers as he sat beside the hearth.

  “I have a message for Sir Richard,” the young man panted, his cloak dripping water onto the packed earth of the floor as he handed over a pouch. “From your brother, sir.”

  George recognized the messenger as Derek, the fellow who had been rather the worse for drink the day after his wedding. “How is my wife today?” he asked, trying to sound calm.

  “Better, I think, my lord,” Derek replied humbly. “She was out of bed. I saw her myself, greeting a visitor.”

  “Come in and take off that cloak,” George commanded in a friendly way, relieved. He saw the kitchen maid peering around the door and called out, “Some ale for this man, at once.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” the young man said after he hung his soaking cloak on a peg beside the door and came farther inside the room. “It’s not a good day for travel, I can tell you!”

  George sat on a bench near the open hearth in the center of the room and gestured for Derek to join him. He glanced at Richard, who was reading the parchment he had taken from the pouch, his brow furrowed. “Not bad news, I hope, Richard?”

  “Nothing urgent, my lord,” the steward replied with a smile. “Still, I think I should return to Ravensloft tomorrow, unless you have something here you wish me to do?”

  “No, you may go.” George faced Derek. “So, we have a visitor at Ravensloft? Who is it?”

  “Baldwin said his name is Sir Rufus Hamerton.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Sir George said, his voice very quiet and his gaze so intense Derek was sure he must have made a mistake.

  “I thought Baldwin said the man’s name was Sir Rufus Hamerton, my lord,” he replied haltingly.

  Sir George darted a swift glance over his shoulder at his steward. “I shall return to Ravensloft with you in the morning, Richard. We leave at dawn.”

  Derek regarded his lord with undisguised surprise at his sudden response, then surreptitiously shrugged his shoulders. Who could fathom the ways of the nobility?

  “Lady Margot de Pontypoole, may I present Sir Rufus Hamerton,” Aileas said as Rufus joined Aileas and another woman at the high table that evening. Aileas wore another gown, of a beautiful copper color that seemed to glow in the light of the flambeaux.

  Rufus glanced at her companion, then swallowed hard, for she was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was like a vision of loveliness, with a flawless, pale complexion, rosebud lips and eyes the color of the finest emeralds.

  “Rufus, Lady Margot is my husband’s cousin.”

  “Delighted to meet you, my lady,” he mumbled, making a slight bow.

  “I am happy to meet any friend of George’s wife,” the lady replied, in a voice as lovely as her face. Her smile warmed him as if it were the sun on a summer’s day.

  “Please, sit down, Rufus,” Aileas said.

  The meal proceeded, and for Rufus, it was a kind of exquisite torture. On one side, he had the distracting presence of Lady Margot, on the other, Aileas. Every protective impulse he possessed should have been focused on her, and he very much wanted to find out why her husband had gone away. Nevertheless, the hall during the evening meal was not the best place to have such a conversation.

  Therefore, he was as free as he could be under the circumstances to converse with the beautiful, charming Lady Margot. In truth, he found that something of a relief, for the constraint between himself and Aileas was truly painful.

  When the last of the meal had been cleared away, Lady Margot ros
e with what seemed genuine reluctance. “I must beg to be excused,” she said. “I should speak to Father Adolphus about some special masses for my late husband. It will be the anniversary of his death shortly.”

  She was a widow? Rufus found that interesting.

  Aileas nodded her acquiescence, and Lady Margot walked gracefully away to speak with the priest seated near the dais.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Aileas said softly, watching the lady’s progress.

  “Something is wrong, isn’t it, Aileas?” Rufus demanded quietly.

  He realized she was still watching Lady Margot. In that instant, a very disturbing notion came to him.

  “Has she no home of her own to tend to?” he asked bluntly.

  “Yes, she does,” Aileas answered in a tone so soft and low, Rufus had to strain to hear her.

  “Why is she still here? Your wedding was over a month ago.”

  “Rufus, I—” She glanced at a black-robed, sallow-faced individual sitting near the pnest and grew silent.

  “What is going on here, Aileas?” Rufus demanded, even more upset when she raised her haunted eyes to look at him.

  “Rufus, hush!” she cautioned. “Later. We will talk about everything later. Tomorrow. Meet me in the solar after the noon meal. We can be alone there.”

  Rufus nodded his agreement, then abruptly left the hall.

  The next day, Aileas paced anxiously in the solar, afraid Herbert or even Elma would come before Rufus did.

  If he did.

  Oh, but he must, she thought, her gaze lighting on the piles of parchment laid out on the table. She had to tell someone her suspicions, and Rufus would listen. He would understand.

  What was taking him so long?

  At last there was a soft knock at the door, and Aileas breathed a sigh of relief when she opened it and found Rufus there.

  “Come in,” she whispered, glancing about to make certain no servant observed his entry as she closed the door behind him.

  “Aileas,” he breathed—and then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

  Alarmed, she drew back, wrenching herself out of his arms. “Rufus! Please!” she cried, hurrying behind the table to stare at him. “L..things are different now, Rufus!”

  “I know, and I curse myself! Aileas, can you ever forgive me?” he pleaded, kneeling and holding out his hands in a gesture of supplication. “I was an idiot to let you go! I should have been begging you to marry me.”

  “Rufus, please! You don’t understand!”

  “Of course I do,” he cried, getting to his feet. “I was a fool and I lost you. Once.” He strode toward the table, his expression determined. “Come away with me!”

  “No!”

  He halted abruptly and his eyes filled with sorrow. “It is what I should have known an honorable woman would say. But you cannot stay here. At least let me take you back to your father.”

  She gazed at him steadily, willing him to recognize her sincerity. “I know what you say comes from the goodness of your heart and your feelings for me, Rufus. But I will not. I...I care very much for my husband, Rufus. We have had a misunderstanding. That’s all, I assure you.”

  “A simple misunderstanding? No, it is worse than that. Look at what he has done to you—what I allowed to happen. You are like a shadow of yourself, Aileas! Can you not see where this will end? He is killing you!”

  “I have been ill,” she explained ardently. “I am still a little unwell.”

  “Why does that woman watch over you?” he demanded.

  “I used the wrong words last night,” Aileas said.

  “Come away with me, Aileas,” he said in a tone that was a command, not a request.

  “I will not,” she said firmly. “I love my husband.”

  “You love a man being unfaithful to you, right under your own roof and with his own cousin?” he charged angrily. “Has he made you blind and stupid, too?”

  Aileas regarded him steadily. “I am neither—and what you say is not true.”

  “Why else would he have that woman here?”

  “He wanted her to teach me how to be a lady.”

  “What?” he scoffed.

  “Have you not seen an improvement in my manners?” she asked as she went around the table, fearing little good could come of this meeting. It would be better to get away and go to George with her suspicions. She would have to make him see that something was seriously amiss in his household.

  Rufus blocked her way and grabbed hold of her shoulders as he gazed at her intently. “Perhaps, but you are not happy here—and don’t tell me otherwise, Aileas. I know you too well.”

  Suddenly the door to the solar crashed open. Aileas and Rufus sprang apart as George strode into the room.

  “George!” Aileas cried, flushing guiltily, even though she knew she had done nothing wrong, as she curtsied toward her husband.

  “Welcome to Ravensloft, Sir Rufus,” George said in a cold and measured tone, regarding her with all the curiosity he might bestow upon the humblest servant in his household.

  Disappointment and dismay flooded through her. She had wanted him to return the same person he was on their wedding day: charming, exciting, interested in her.

  Instead, he was even more the stranger. “I am glad you have come back,” she said, willing him to believe her truthful words.

  “Are you, indeed?” he replied lightly. “I am glad to be here.” He strolled past her. “What brings you here, Sir Rufus?” he asked evenly as he sat in the chair behind the table.

  “I am on my way to my father’s in the north country,” Rufus replied with some measure of calm, although Aileas felt as if she were watching two dogs circle each other. “Since I’ll be gone some time, like as not, I thought I’d pay a visit. If I’m not welcome—”

  “Oh, but you are!” George replied smoothly. “Isn’t he, Aileas? Please sit and have some wine. Aileas, you should have offered him some wine. No matter, we can have wine later—or do you intend to go away today? It is an excellent day for traveling.”

  His expression rather stunned, Rufus threw himself into a chair on the opposite side of the table while Aileas slowly slid back into the other one. She longed to tell George that she was truly happy he was home, that she had missed him, and explain the reason for Rufus’s presence in his solar—but she was absolutely speechless as she mustered every ounce of determination she possessed.

  As Aileas took her seat, George could not help watching her, once again filled with that incredible, passionate desire that she inspired. In her presence, he could seemingly remember every moment of their intimacy, and if Rufus had not been there, he would have taken her in his arms right then and there.

  But Rufus was there, all six feet and more of him, with his ugly red hair and brawny body.

  “Well, Aileas, why so secret that you meet in my solar? I must assume you want no witnesses to your rendezvous.”

  “I did want it to be secret,” she said firmly, apparently none the whit ashamed, “because I wanted to tell him what I suspected about the Jolliets. They are cheating you, I’m sure of it.”

  She sounded so sure of herself, it gave him a moment’s pause, until Rufus shifted in his seat. “Are you? Unfortunately, I am not. I have checked and rechecked the accounts at the other estates and found nothing amiss. Besides, if you had proof enough to speak to your dear friend about what you suspect, why did you not come to me?”

  “I wanted to be sure.”

  “I would have made sure.”

  “Would you?” she charged. “Would you have believed me? Would you have taken me at my word?”

  “Your word alone, against the men who have been in my family’s employ for years?” he mused. “I agree, it is a precarious business. Is that why you preferred to present your case to Sir Rufus—because you would be sure of a sympathetic ear?”

  “I would believe whatever Aileas says,” Rufus said staunchly. “As you should.”

  “George, y
ou were not here,” she reminded him. “And I think there is proof.”

  “Think? A court of law demands more than speculation.”

  “I have evidence,” she declared.

  “Where?”

  “There!” she said, pointing at the parchments he had barely noticed spread before him on the table. “In the lists. I’m sure things have been stolen. I even believe prices and amounts on the lists have been adjusted, when there should be no change, and the difference pocketed, probably by these stewards you trust so much. Who else would be able to steal from you without detection?”

  George lifted one of the parchments and quickly scanned it. He saw nothing amiss. “Show me where, exactly.”

  His wife’s eyes flashed with defiant anger. “I can’t, exactly.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I cannot read,” she announced defiantly.

  George simply could not believe it. “You have been attending to the household accounts and you cannot read?” he asked incredulously. “Why is it you cannot?”

  “My father didn’t think it important enough to teach me,” she answered.

  God’s wounds, that made sense. But she should have told him. What did she think he would do, make fun of her? Chastise her? He would behave better, as she should know.

  “But there are discrepancies, of that I am certain,” she finished, her tone as frustrated as a tutor with a slow pupil.

  “What do you mean, questioning your wife as if she were the guilty one?” Rufus demanded. “She tells you what she suspects—you should trust her word alone!”

  How dare this man criticize me, George thought as the anger built inside him. “As I should trust her word that she was a virgin when she came to my bed,” he replied, fighting to keep his tone even, “despite the lack of evidence there, too?”

  Rufus stared at him and Aileas rose abruptly, splaying her hands on the table before him. “Yes, you should—and you should have given me a chance to explain.”

  “I’m sure your explanation would have been very entertaining,” George repied, unable to keep the scowl from his face. “Tell me, were you so confident in this explanation that you could invite your lover to cuckold me under my own roof?”