“My lord, there is only one place,” she stated the obvious with some surprise.
“I shall be taking my dinner later, madam,” he explained.
His reasons for abstaining became clear, and she gratefully accepted the decision, since she had no wish to witness the doffing of his mask. It would be hard enough to face him in the bedchamber without enduring the sight of his scarred visage across the table.
Sweeping aside the longer train of her gown, she moved to take her place. Her husband held her chair and after moving it forward, he paused for a long, endless moment behind her. Erienne was held frozen by his nearness and by the suspicion that his eyes were upon her. She dared not glance down to her bosom or turn to look at him, for she was fearful of where his gaze was directed. The pulse throbbed in her throat until he finally moved away, dragging his cumbersome foot to a seat at the head of the table. With a quick, nervous glance downward, Erienne inspected her gaping neckline and was shocked to see a rosy crest partially visible above her chemise. In heated embarrassment she pressed the gown against her bosom and could not resist a comment.
“Is it your intention for me to display myself with equal impartiality to everyone who may care to look, or should I place the fault with the gown?”
His laughter hissed through the openings of the mask. “I would rather you select your gowns with more care when we have guests and reserve such sights for my pleasure, madam. I am not an overly generous man in that regard. In fact, I could not abide the thought of another man having what I had claimed for myself, and since you appeared to have no preference in mind as to your suitors, I sought to bring my desires into fruition.” He paused a moment as he looked at her. “You had no one you preferred, did you?”
Erienne averted her gaze as the image of Christopher Seton bloomed in her mind, but she banished it as quickly as it came. She hated the man. For all of his glib proposals, he had been content to see her sold to someone else and had eagerly claimed his money when it was all done. She answered in a glum whisper. “Nay, milord. I had no preference.”
“Good! Then I have no reason to feel any qualms about snatching you from beneath the noses of the others.” A sibilant chuckle sounded. “ ’Twas either them or me, and I think, madam, you are better off with me.” His gloved hand rose briefly to make his point. “Take for instance Harford Newton.”
“The gray mouse?”
“An appropriate appellation, my dear.”
“What about him?”
“Did your father inform you that his wife of thirty-odd years fell to her death on the stairs? Some speculate Harford Newton pushed her. If I had not given Mr. Jagger instructions to top all bids, you would have been dining with him tonight as his bride.”
Erienne stared at him as his words penetrated her consciousness. Life with Harford Newton might have been more despicable than she had first realized, but it was no guarantee that marriage to Lord Saxton would be all that much better.
“You have obviously taken some time to learn what you could about my suitors. Why?”
“I simply wished to be aware of your options, at least the ones your father presented to you, madam, and came to the conclusion that I was probably your best choice.”
“Had you not instructed your servants to return me to my father, I might have been able to find employment and lead a quiet, modest life in other climes.”
“Madam, the likelihood of that was most improbable. As a gentleman, I felt responsible for your welfare. I could not have let you go unescorted where the whims of life were so unpredictable.”
“You could have found employment for me, or given me a position here. I am not unskilled at scrubbing floors or cooking a meal.”
“That may well be true, my love, but think on this carefully. With you close under my hand, my restraint might have found its limits. Were you then willing to become my mistress?”
“No, of course not, but…”
“Then I see no reason for further discussion on the matter.” The subject was dismissed abruptly with his statement.
Though the cook was one of exceptional ability, Erienne barely tasted the food. She ate slowly, knowing that however distant, the end of the meal would come far too soon for her comfort. The wine was sipped more liberally, yet it failed to dull her senses or her qualms. She delayed as much as she could, but all too quickly it came to an end.
“I have some matters that demand my attention,” Lord Saxton announced as they left the table. “I will need a few moments to take care of them. You may await me in your chambers.”
The slow beat of drums in the back of her mind began again, boding her doom, and her heart took up the ponderous rhythm. Her limbs felt like dead weights, and any motion was an effort. Her spirit became a numb lump within her body as she made her way to the tower and slowly climbed the stairs. In the bedchamber she stared at the huge, velvet-draped bed wherein her virginity would shortly find its tomb. It was, for all of its ominous presence, a lordly bed. The hangings could hold in the warmth and provide all the privacy a married couple would need on a cold winter’s night…or muffle the terrified cries of a woman trapped in the arms of a bestial husband…
The grains of time were sifting much too rapidly through the narrowed waist of the glass. Tessie came to help her into her nightgarments and folded down the bedcovers to reveal wide lace on the sheets and comforters. The maid was discreet and left as silently as she had come. Left truly alone in her misery, Erienne paced the floor, praying desperately for the strength and fortitude that was required to face whatever lay before her, and perhaps even to be able to escape some small part of the horror she expected.
“Erienne…”
With a small gasp Erienne whirled to face the intruder who spoke her name. It gave her no comfort to find her husband standing just inside the door. She had not heard him enter, and the strangeness of that was lost in the depth of her turmoil.
“You startled me.” The tremor in her voice could not be controlled.
“My apology, madam. You seemed engrossed in your thoughts.”
Remembering the gossamer thinness of her attire, Erienne gathered the dressing gown more closely about her and turned aside as her husband crossed to the hearth. She heard the chair creak slightly beneath his weight and experienced a mild relief that he did not immediately press her. Still, she was very near the precipice of hysteria and realized that she must get a firm grip on herself before she collapsed completely.
“I thought you would be later, milord,” she murmured with candor. “I need more time to prepare myself.”
“You are beautiful just as you are, my love.”
She moved to stand beside the chair across from his. “I think you know what I mean, milord.” When he made no comment, she took a deep breath to steady herself and plunged on. “I have heard something of the evils suffered by your family, and you make me wonder why you took me as your bride. You dress me in rich gowns and talk glibly of beauty when there has been so much bitterness in your own life.”
He leaned forward, resting an arm across his thigh as he peered up at her. “Do you think it odd, madam, that I take pleasure in your beauty? Do you think me some perverted soul who would garb you in finery to torment myself…or you? Believe me, I have no such intention in mind. Just as one bereft of talents can enjoy the masterpiece of a genius, the perfection of your appearance pleases me. I may be scarred, madam, but I am not blind.” He sat back in his chair and examined the head of his cane, adding, “There is also a certain pride in the possession of a worthy piece.”
She was fearful of rousing whatever dark angers there might be lying dormant in the man. With such a fierce-looking appearance, his temper could prove to be more violent than anything she could handle, yet she couldn’t resist a twist of sarcasm. “You seem well able to afford whatever you wish, milord.”
“I have enough to meet my needs,” he replied.
“With all that has happened to your family, would not revenge be the swee
ter nectar? Have you wealth to gain that, too?”
“Be not misled, madam.” His voice was quiet, subdued. “There is revenge, then there is justice. Sometimes the two are met as one.”
The cold logic of his statement made her shudder. Almost fearfully she inquired, “And your revenge…or justice…is it directed toward me…or my kin?”
He countered her question with one of his own. “Have you done ill against me?”
“How could I? I never knew you before today.”
He again considered the twisted head of his cane. “The innocent have nothing to fear from me.”
Erienne moved to the hearth to warm her icy fingers, replying in a taut, desperate whisper, “I feel like a fox snared in a trap. If you have naught against me, then why have you committed this act? Why did you purchase me?”
The masked head tilted upward until she was sure the eyes behind the small openings rested on her. “Because I wanted you.”
Her quaking knees threatened to give way, and she sought the safety of the chair. It was a long moment before she conquered her violent trembling and regained her composure. Her dressing robe afforded her little protection from the hearth’s heat or the twin black holes that watched her. She vividly remembered the morning she had awakened in this same chamber to find herself void of clothing and in the master’s bed. However unplanned and innocent that event had been, this marriage was the result of her accident, and despite what he said, Erienne was sure that the union had been the quirk of an evil mind intent on her complete debasement.
She spoke in a barely audible voice. “I believe you sent me back to my father because you intended to purchase me. It was your plan all along.”
His gloved hand moved in a casual gesture as he admitted the fact. “It seemed the simplest thing to do. My man was given his instructions. He was to give the highest bid whatever the cost. You see, my love, your value to me is unlimited.”
Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the ornately carved arm of the chair. She felt the heat of the fire on her cheek, but it failed to halt the coldness spreading within her. “Were you so certain, then, that you wanted me?” She made a feeble attempt to laugh. “After all, you know nothing of me. I may prove to be a purchase you will regret.”
“Whatever your failings, I doubt they will change the fact that I want you.” His hollow chuckle held a note of mockery. “You see, I have become hopelessly entangled in my desire. You have captured my dreams, my thoughts, my fancy.”
“But why?” she wailed in confusion. “Why me?”
His answer was spoken in wonder. “Are you so casual of your beauty that you are not aware of its effect?”
She shook her head in frantic denial. “I would hardly term the bidding at the roup eager or frenzied. Consider Silas Chambers. Was not his money dearer to him than the possession of my hand?”
Lord Saxton’s echoing chuckle filled the chambers of her mind. “Men have been known to hoard wealth and make of themselves paupers. Tell me, my dear, what good is gold if it cannot buy what a man desires?”
She was beset by his blunt honesty. “As your wealth has purchased a bride for you?”
“Not just a bride, my dearest Erienne, but one of my choosing…you!” He nodded his black-hooded head slowly. “I could never have won you any other way. You would have refused my proposals as certainly as you rejected those who answered your father’s call. Will you berate me for using my wits and wealth to obtain that which I desire?”
In a mild display of bravado she raised her chin a notch. “And what do you expect of a purchased bride?”
He gave the slightest of shrugs. “What does any man expect of his wife…to give him ease and comfort, to hear him out and give him counsel when she can, to bear his children in due season.”
Her eyes widened, and she stared at him, unable to hide her amazement.
“Do you doubt my ability to sire offspring, my dear?” he asked chidingly.
Blushing furiously, Erienne glanced away. “I…I…didn’t think you would want children, that is all.”
“On the contrary, Erienne. My self-esteem has need of a balm of sorts, and I can think of no greater succor than for you to bear the fruit of my seed.”
As quickly as it rose, the color drained from her face, leaving it ashen. “You ask much of me, milord,” she replied unsteadily. “Before I was put on the block, I wondered whether I could yield to a man who, at best, was a stranger to me.” She clenched her hands tightly to control their shaking. “I know I am bound by my word, but ’twill be hard for me, for you are much more than a stranger to me.” She raised her eyes to the blank staring holes in his mask, and her voice was a husky whisper as she stated, “You are everything I fear.”
He came to his feet, and in the shifting firelight loomed large and menacing over his surroundings. His awesome presence filled the room, and Erienne watched him with the same rapt attention a trapped mouse gives a stalking cat. Feeling his unswerving gaze, she clutched the dressing gown close about her throat and shrank back in the chair until finally he turned away from her. He moved to a table beneath the windows and taking up one of the decanters that sat on the tray there, splashed an ample draught of wine into a goblet. The halting gait brought him back to her.
“Drink this,” his eerie voice bade with a tired note when he held the goblet out to her. “ ’Twill take the edge from your fear.”
Though the wine at dinner had failed to ease her distress, Erienne obediently took the glass and raised it to her lips, glancing up at him as he waited. It blazed in her mind that the time to consummate their marriage was near at hand, and she was being made ready for the event. Seeking to delay that deadly moment, she sipped the wine slowly, stretching its life in the glass. Lord Saxton was patient to the last and finally no drop of liquid remained to mark her stay of execution. He took the glass from her trembling hand, set it aside, and reached out to draw her from the chair. The wine, however, had not been entirely wasted on Erienne. It lent strength and impetus to her less than steady nerves. She slipped sideways out of the chair, avoiding the gloved assistance much as she would a coiled snake. His massive form made her achingly aware of her own helplessness and the futility of trying to resist him, yet she moved back a step, poised to fly if he came after her.
The hand dropped, and she relaxed slightly. She was wary of angering him and bringing him to a level of violence that would destroy her. Rape was no beginning for any marriage, but she could not bring herself to yield either. Her mind sought some rationale that would hold him off in a peaceful fashion.
She looked up at him in desperate appeal, wishing she could see behind the black barrier of his mask, yet at the same time grateful that she couldn’t. “Lord Saxton, if you will allow me some time to know you and still my fears. Please understand,” she pleaded. “I have every intention of fulfilling my part of the vows. Only I need time.”
“I know mine is not the most desirable of appearances, madam.” His tone was openly sardonic. “But despite what you may think, I am not the brute beast to trap you in a corner and force myself upon you.”
Erienne found no encouragement in his statement. After all, they were just words, and she had learned long ago that a man’s actions displayed his truer nature more than the things he said.
“I am as other men, with much the same desires. The very sight of you here in these chambers and the knowledge that you are my wife wrenches my vitals in a painful knot. My body aches to release the passion you have aroused in me. Yet I must accept the fact that your shock has been great and that you are bemused by the detail of your much altered circumstances.” He released a long, halting sigh as if reluctant to continue, and there was no humor in his voice when he spoke. “As long as I have strength to control what you stir in me, you need only make known to me your desires, and I shall seek to honor them. There is but one warning I would give you. Though the mare I have purchased cannot be ridden, I would view her grace and beauty and thus salve my needs unti
l she is ready to receive my hand and yield me the full rights of her mate. Madam,” his darkly gloved hand indicated the heavy oaken portal of her chamber where a brass key brightly shone in the latch, “I bid you never turn that lock or otherwise bar the door against me. As you will have the freedom of this house and grounds, I too will come and go as I please. Do you understand?”
“Yes, milord,” she murmured, willing to yield anything if it would hasten his departure.
He limped closer, and Erienne felt the soft caress of his gaze. Fearing what might follow, she held her breath. His gloved hands reached out, and she steeled herself as his fingers plucked at the ties of her robe. He slipped it from her shoulders, and it fell in billowing waves to the floor, leaving the gossamer mist of her gown to provide modesty. It failed miserably in the firelight. The thin lawn clung like a translucent vapor, revealing the sleek curves of her hips and thighs and molding itself with greedy delight to the tantalizing fullness of her bosom.
A Rose in Winter Page 21