Medieval Brides. Anne Herries
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the hope that her father would take her wishes and feelings into consideration when choosing her husband, but the practical side of her knew that she was simply dreaming. A woman married to bring property and money to her husband and to give him heirs; feelings and dreams had no place there.
“I understand, Your Grace. If you have no objections, I would retire to my chamber.”
Escape was the only thing she wanted to do. Well, not the only thing. She would like to scream her anger and embarrassment out, but that would simply increase both for her. She waited for Eleanor’s nod and then rose from her chair. She was surprised to see the count rise, also. Ah, she needed his consent now, as well, to leave her own hall. Her stomach tightened and tears threatened as a wave of desolation passed over her. But the only thing that was constant in her life of late, her people and their support, watched and waited for her every move and reaction. She could no more fail them than she could hold back the coming night.
“My lord?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to him as she turned to face him. “With your permission, I would retire.”
He closed the short distance between them with two steps and lifted her hand to his lips. Even the tension that filled her did not prevent her from noticing his breath as it tickled the fine hairs on her fingers. If his gesture was more than the usual perfunctory one, she could not tell, but she did not remember ever noticing the details of one or another until this one.
“Until tomorrow then, milady.”
He lowered her hand from his lips and placed it on his forearm, intent on guiding her from the dais. But his eyes caught her gaze and she could not breathe. Amusement, anger, suspicion and fear. She read them and recognized them as the same feelings coursing through her. Something else coalesced in his gaze—his eyes darkened and became more intense than before.
Desire.
An overwhelming need to run struck her and she fought to take a breath. The moment passed and he looked away first, turning them toward the steps from the raised platform to the floor. She was glad for his support, even though she tried not to grip his arm for balance.
Desire was not something she had thought about in this bargain. She did not know Eleanor’s reasons for summoning this particular courtier to her rescue and she did not know his reasons for accepting such a call. His arrogant and irritated attitude in the solar, and his apparent dismissal of her from her oversight duties, made her believe that he was here for the property and riches. It made her overlook the aspect of marriage that had brought her to this point—procreation. Her shiver brought his attention and he paused in his escort of her through the length of the great hall.
“Is something amiss?” he asked in a low voice. More shivers pulsed through her at the tone of it.
“Nay, milord, all is well. You need not leave the queen to escort me to my own room. I know the way.” If she was abrupt with him, she had not intended to be so. But his nearness and his voice made her uneasy, even more so than she had felt before meeting him. Now he was here, he was her husband and he was in charge of her and all she owned.
“Very well, then, milady. I return to Eleanor’s side as you suggest. There is much I need to discuss with her.”
He released her hand and waited for her to leave. Anger flared once more as she realized that he would discuss matters with the queen that concerned her and that she would not be included. Delaying her departure no longer, she walked the rest of the way through the hall. She was so disturbed by his dismissal that she was in the corridor leading to her room before she realized that Alyce trailed behind her. Her maid hurried to get to the door first and, once opened, Emalie rushed into her chambers.
The wind whipped his hair and stung his eyes, but he remained in the full force of it. Refusing to seek refuge behind one of the towers, Christian stood on the battlements of Greystone Castle and looked out over the surrounding countryside. The light of the full moon flowed like quicksilver over the rolling hills and valleys, causing everything in its path to shimmer. Closing his eyes, he allowed the power of the cool gusts to wipe away the tension within him.
Too many hours within walls caused his gut and his skin to tighten. He needed time outside, being buffeted by whatever nature threw at him, in order to regain control over his fear. Would it ever leave him?
He had thought that just leaving the prison cell and riding away would have freed him, but it had not. He believed he could scrub away the scum accumulated after months without bathing and filling his stomach with food after suffering deep hunger would relieve the anguish of those months. But it had not. Even having his honor restored by the king’s command did not lessen the dread that he would be returned to those dire circumstances. And the king’s demand that Geoffrey stay behind only served to intensify those fears.
Mayhap after he carried out this task for the king and his mother, he would feel more in control of his life. There was, however, a niggling feeling that there was much more here than anyone was saying.
Why was he chosen to receive this estate, and the titles and woman that went with it? Did Eleanor’s fondness for his mother really explain it? And surely there were neighboring noblemen who could have been called upon to take control of this demesne. Richard had mentioned his brother John. Was he the threat here? Well, that answer he knew—absolutely yes.
He turned his back to the wind and walked the length of one side of the castle wall. Guards passed him on their rounds and more watched him from the corner towers. He nodded to each as they passed and studied their faces and their habits. He would speak to Sir Walter tomorrow about the troops and their commanders. Now that the betrothal agreements confirmed his power here, he would call some of his own men from Langier to come and serve him here. He would feel more secure once his own retainers arrived. Turning his attention back to the surrounding landscape, he thought of the one who was at the center of this puzzling situation.
Who was this woman, now his betrothed wife? How had she fallen into John’s net? Or was her involvement with John of her own volition and Richard wanted her under the control of his own man? He would discover John’s role in this as Richard had commanded and then mayhap Geoff could join him.
Of course his brother’s condition would prevent him from traveling at this time and probably for some time, until he recovered from the deprivations of their imprisonment. God and king willing, Geoff would join him by Michaelmas. He did regret that his own return to Chateau d’Azure would not come until next spring at the soonest. But he had made a bargain with the king and he would hold up his end of it. And then he would be truly free.
Mayhap not completely free; he would, after all, have a wife to contend with. Other men had married and survived and he chuckled with the certainty that he would as well. A noise drew his attention and he watched as that very same wife walked onto the ramparts opposite his position. Christian stepped back into the shadows and simply observed this mysterious woman who was now his.
The lady made her way to the end of the parapet and placed herself in the force of the same wind that had buffeted him a few moments before. As he watched, she closed her eyes and turned her face into the strong breezes that passed over the crenellated wall. A quiver shot through him as he recognized the motion as the same one he made when the tension inside him grew too strong. He had taken several strides toward her before realizing his intent. Stopping before she saw him, he knew he did not wish to intrude on her private moment.
Studying her face as the moonlight illuminated it from above, Christian wondered over Eleanor’s refusal to explain the countess’s circumstances. Their private talk had been as frustrating as the one prior to the betrothal announcements—only cryptic comments and a growing feeling that he was entering a lion’s den. Trouble was, he did not know who was the lion…the Plantagenet prince or the woman he was to marry in the morning.
As if she had heard his thoughts, Emalie turned and looked at him. Their gazes met and he was once more assailed with the feeling that, in some way, they were kindred spirits. But alike in what way? Before he could look away, she dipped her head in a subtle salute, turned from him and walked back to the door that led to her hallway. Her maid stood in the doorway waiting for her