The Conqueror's Lady. Terri Brisbin
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fibre of her being. He leaned in close, so close that she could feel his breath against her neck. Shivers of another kind pulsed through her at his nearness and the sudden heat he caused.
‘There is no reason to execute you, for a woman as lovely as you has several uses. Several that come to mind immediately,’ he repeated, stepping nearer and lifting her chin so she had to meet his gaze. His eyes took on a different expression then, heated and filled with desire, and she knew she would not like his words before he spoke them. ‘Perhaps I will strip you of your position as lady here and keep you instead as my leman while I search out a new wife.’
If he was trying to intimidate her, he’d been successful, for she could see no way out of this predicament and her fears threatened to overwhelm her. In order to succeed in her own quest, to keep her people safe until they could be freed from Norman control, she needed to stay alive and that meant acquiescing to his demands. Emma’s nervous whispers from behind her drew her attentions.
‘Please, lady, do as he asks,’ she begged quietly, so quietly that only the three of them heard it.
‘Aye, lady, do you do as I ask or not?’ he said in a soft and misleading tone. ‘Father Henry has asked if you consent to our exchanging vows.’ He raised his voice now as he stepped back, releasing her. ‘Do you, Lady Fayth?’
He held out his hand in a gesture she knew was to increase the pressure on her and to make it impossible to answer any other way than the one he wanted. The silence grew and held them all motionless as they waited on her word. Glancing at Giles, she noticed the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth and she wanted more than anything to wipe it from his face, though she dared not do so.
Everything she’d lived for was at stake here. At least with Edmund there had been a mutual affection and a common cause between them. She would gain a stranger as husband now; her people would gain a foreign lord who had conquered their lands. A man with no experience other than gaining such prizes with his powerful sword. He moved his fingers ever so slightly to remind her that he, nay they, waited for her response.
As though she had any choice at all?
Edmund was probably still shackled somewhere close by and not able to gather and bring some strong army to her rescue. Her father’s friends and allies lay dead and broken on some distant field of battle. No one could help her.
Taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she did the only thing she could do—she placed her hand in his and walked at his side towards the altar and Father Henry.
Nothing after that mattered, not the words or the gestures, not the cheering of her people or of his men, not the solicitous way her new husband guided her back to the keep. She sat at his side and thought she remembered him feeding her from their shared trencher and drinking mead from a shared cup, but it all passed her by in a haze. If she responded to questions or spoke at all, she could not later say. All she could comprehend was that her life was no longer her own. She now belonged to a man who might have killed her father.
It was not until the door of her chambers closed behind them, leaving her alone with a man not of her family for the first time in her life, that she realised the extent of the changes she faced. Unsure of what to do or what to say, she was saved by his words.
‘I did not want blood to be shed today because your people tried to defend you from me. I lured you to the chapel in a way I thought would prevent that.’ Though he spoke softly, the expression in his eyes now burned with manly desires.
‘So your threats to have me killed or to take me as your whore were …?’ she asked, trying to sort through her confusion and surprise.
She watched silently then as he walked to the table set in the middle of the room and poured wine from a pitcher into two cups. He brought one to her and waited for her to drink from it.
‘Provocations only, meant to divert your attention from my true intentions.’ He smiled then, one that resembled a genuine one. ‘And they seemed to work.’
Glancing at the ring that now encircled her finger, proclaiming her position as his wife, she nodded. Nervousness poured through her at the thought that she was completely at his mercy. Mercy she could not be certain even existed. She swallowed all the wine he’d poured for her.
‘There are less offensive ways to distract me, sir,’ she said before correcting her error. ‘My lord.’
That fact had seeped into her mind even as she tried to reject it. The marriage contract proclaimed him Lord Giles Fitzhenry, Baron of Taerford. Grief clouded her thoughts then, making it difficult to even breathe at the constant reminders of her father’s death. She could not meet his gaze and witness the joy he must feel at his elevation to such an honourable, ancient title.
Still she was her father’s daughter and would bear whatever was necessary to keep their people safe through the turbulent and violent times ahead of them. She met his gaze then, not knowing what to expect from this new lord.
‘I will try to remember that in the future,’ he said.
He drank deeply from his cup and placed it back on the table. Was it time then to … consummate their vows? Fayth looked to the empty cup wishing that she’d left some to strengthen her resolve to carry through the act ahead of her.
Expecting his move towards her, she tried to calm her apprehension at the forced intimacy they would share. Giles walked slowly towards her and took the goblet from her shaking hands. Fayth looked up at him, standing so close she could feel the heat of him, and waited for him to take the first step.
The touch of his lips on hers shocked her in its gentleness. He moved his mouth over hers, once, twice and then again, before he settled it firmly there. Though he touched her in no other way than this joining of their mouths, she closed her eyes and prepared herself for his next move.
She was still standing there when he stepped away, turned and walked to the door, facing her then with his hand on the latch.
‘I bid you a good night’s rest, lady,’ he said, nodding to her.
Fayth paused, not knowing what words to say. As she touched her fingers to her tingling lips a fear unlike any before filled her. That kiss was far gentler than she ever expected, but the thought of giving herself to a man, a warrior now called husband and lord, was more terrifying now that she faced the act itself.
‘Sir,’ she said, shaking her head and not understanding his intentions again. ‘My lord, will you not …?’
‘No.’ He shook his head in reply. ‘Until I know you do not carry your lover’s child in your belly, we will not …’ He imitated her hesitation and threw a glance and a nod across the chamber at the bed.
Fayth could not stop her jaw from dropping at that pronouncement. They would not? He would not? The terror that threatened her moments ago fled and anger replaced it.
‘I carry no child!’
‘Do you confess that he was your lover, then?’
She strode across the room and met his disrespectful gaze. ‘I am an honourable woman, sir. How dare you?’ She raised her hand to strike him in answer to such an insult.
He caught it easily and she waited, expecting him to strike back for such behaviour. Instead his eyes took on a calm appearance and he shook his head at her.
‘You would give your body and self to one of your father’s men, elevate him to such a lofty position and get nothing in return?’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘A man does not risk his life for nothing more than tupping a woman. What promises did Edmund make to you in exchange for your marriage vow?’
‘You again insult me, my lord. Promises? I planned to make none other than the same I gave to you today.’ Fayth struggled to keep the whole truth of Edmund’s plans inside. ‘He promised to protect me and my lands if I took him as husband. Nothing more. But you interrupted that.’
Her husband could not find out who Edmund was, not now while he still faced death if their charade