Bride for a Knight. Margaret Moore
Читать онлайн книгу.
mace or sword. Worse than anything he had felt before. Worse than the beatings he had endured at his father’s and older brother’s hands. Worse than the worst of Gerrard’s mocking torment.
No woman will ever love you unless she’s paid. You have no wit, no charm, nothing to recommend you except our father’s wealth and title.
Wealth and title and an alliance that her father so clearly desired, now purchased with his daughter’s maidenhead?
He was a fool. A simpleton, like the most green country lad come to an unfamiliar town. Despite her blushes and smiles, she must have been forced to marry him, or why else would she be weeping? Shame and humiliation, hot, strong and agonizing, tore apart his joy and hope.
Long ago he had learned to hide his pain. To mask his shame. To pretend he felt nothing, that nothing could touch and wound him, and he would do so again. But first, he had to get away from her, as a wounded beast goes to ground to nurse its wounds in private.
Rising from the bed, he yanked on his breeches, then sat and tugged on his boots.
“Did you sleep well, Roland?” she asked.
He glanced up to see her watching him, her eyes red rimmed and puffy from crying, but a bright and bogus smile on her lips.
Even now, and despite the tears, he wanted to believe she had chosen him for himself alone.
Fool!
If she had been coerced or threatened, he hadn’t been aware of it, and it had been done without his consent. But the wedding was over and consummated. He and Mavis were bound to each other by the church and the law, and nothing could be done.
Their marriage still meant a valuable alliance and a considerable dowry, although his father-in-law was a drunken oaf who would likely never heed a call for help. And Mavis was also Simon DeLac’s only child, so he would gain more when the man died, while DeLac had the powerful ally in the north he wanted.
Roland reached for his shirt and drew it over his head. “I trust you can be ready to travel as soon as you’ve broken the fast,” he said, speaking as he would to any underling.
“Yes, I think so.”
“I expect so,” he replied. He put on his tunic and belted it around his waist with his sword belt.
She hadn’t moved, but when he raised his eyes again, he noticed that her feet were bare. So were her ankles.
Was she naked under that cloak?
Desire, hot and strong and vital, surged through him. Memories of the night they’d shared rose up, vivid and exciting.
He must not betray this weakness, for that would give her a hold over him and the power to shame and humiliate him. He had to ignore the feelings she aroused. He must put a distance between them. She must be ever and only just a woman who ran his household and sometimes shared his bed when the need grew too strong to ignore.
His hand on the latch, he spoke without looking back at her. “Since the necessary consummation has taken place, I shall leave it up to you, my lady, to invite me to your bed in future. Otherwise, I shall leave you in peace.”
After Roland had gone, Mavis went to the bed and sat heavily. A lump formed in her throat and her eyes welled with tears, only this time it wasn’t because she was leaving the only home she’d ever known and the cousin she loved like a sister.
What had happened to Roland? Where had the kind, gentle lover gone?
She could think of nothing she’d done to anger or upset him...unless he felt she’d talked too much last night. Or perhaps her father’s behavior had disturbed him.
It could be that, despite her belief otherwise, he had seen this marriage only as a bargain with her father. He had done what was necessary to consummate the marriage and cared for her no more than that.
As for the tender, gentle way he’d loved her, perhaps that was only because she’d been a virgin.
Maybe he’d found her lacking in their bed.
She knew nothing of a man’s pleasure. While her wedding night had been extraordinary for her, perhaps it hadn’t been nearly so wonderful for a man of experience. Given her husband’s handsome features and powerful body, she was surely not his first.
Then another, more terrible explanation came to mind. She had heard there were men who, having taken their pleasure of a virgin, lost all interest.
No, that could not be so with Roland. She would have seen some hint that it was only her body he wanted. She had encountered that sort of lust often enough before, including from his older brother, and would certainly have recognized it.
She glanced at the bed and noticed the small spot of blood on the sheet. Yet another explanation leaped into her mind, one much more in keeping with her perception of the man in the solar. If he thought he’d hurt her, he might be angry with himself, not at her, and that would explain his parting words to her, too.
Although she was a little sore, the experience had been no more painful than pulling a hangnail, and she must find a way to tell him, once they were alone.
And she would know, by how he acted then, if he had married her because he wanted her, as she fervently hoped, or if he saw the marriage only as a means to make an alliance with her father.
* * *
A short time later, Roland stood in the courtyard with his arms crossed and his weight on one leg. The wagons were loaded with Mavis’s dower goods, the ox to pull it was in the shafts, his horse and her mare were saddled and ready and the morning meal concluded. The clouds parted to reveal the sun, which began to burn off the remaining frost on the cobblestones. A light breeze blew, enough to ruffle his hair and the pennants on the castle walls, and redden the noses of their escort as they, too, waited to be on their way.
“You’re a lucky man.”
Roland half turned and found Rheged of Cwm Bron at his elbow. “I agree,” he said, meeting the man’s gaze steadily, keeping his voice even.
“Mavis is a kind and sweet young woman,” Rheged continued. “My wife loves her like a sister and we both want Mavis to be happy.”
The man’s deep voice was genial, but there was a look in his eyes that told Roland this was something more than placid observation. Nevertheless, he replied in the same manner as before. “As do I.”
“I’m glad to hear it. We’d be upset otherwise.”
Again there was more to the Welshman’s comment than just the words. But wordplay and hints and insinuation were the language of cheats and deceivers, and Roland would have none of that. “If you have something of import to say to me, my lord, speak plainly.”
“Very well,” Rheged replied. “Tamsin tells me you gave Mavis the choice of accepting the betrothal or not, and she accepted. That’s all to the good. But Mavis is young in the ways of the world, and she’s had enough trouble already with her father, so I hope you’ll treat her with the kindness and respect she deserves.”
The Welshman spoke as if he were a brute, no better than his father or older brother. He had hoped for better from Rheged, and he wondered what the Welshman might have said about him. If Mavis had been forced to accept the marriage and her cousin’s husband had said derogatory things about him, no wonder she’d been crying.
“Considering that you abducted the woman you have taken to wife,” he said with a hint of the ire he felt, “it strikes me that you are hardly in a position to offer any man advice on how to treat a woman.”
Rheged’s eyes flared with annoyance, but his tone was still genial when he replied. “Then don’t consider it advice. Consider it a warning. If you or your brother hurt her in any way, you’ll have me to answer to.”