The Bride Of Spring. Catherine Archer
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profusely. I have never in my life bedded any woman and hurt her thus, nor have I ever been completely oblivious of such an event afterward. The last thing I recall was becoming dizzy after taking the wine you insisted I drink. I am not so great a lover that I am able to perform while unconscious.”
A scarlet-faced Raine looked down at her tightly folded arms. Benedict waited.
At last she raised her head and met his gaze. He was not pleased at the way his chest tightened at the tears glittering in her golden eyes. “You are right, my lord. I did trick you. I did drug you and you did not touch me.”
The utter defeat in her tone only served to move him further as she went on. “I will tell the truth to all who saw us here this morn.”
Not only was he moved by her despair, Benedict was also shocked at her complete capitulation in telling him the truth. In spite of his warning for her not to prevaricate further, he had fully expected her to try to defend her actions, at the very least.
He ran a hand over his face and up through his hair. His jaw was covered with rough stubble and he was sure he must have looked like a madman to the folk who had gathered in the door of the chamber, standing there in a blood-covered sheet, his hair, unruly at the best of times, standing on end.
Yet that was the least of his worries now. He sank down on the end of the bed. “Tell me why you did this.”
Raine raised her chin. “I felt I had no choice. I tried to gain your attention in the usual way but you seemed to have no interest in me.”
Benedict gave a rueful laugh. He had been attracted to her, but he had no wish to admit as much. “Why me? I am not the sort of man who would draw the interest of a beautiful young girl.”
She looked at him with obvious surprise and finally said, “Why do you think that I would not be interested in you? You were everything that I was looking for—strong, honorable, kind. I needed someone who would see to my brother and his interests without fear of supplanting him, or worse, which was exactly what Cousin Denley would have done. William’s holdings are the reason for his diligent pursuit of me. And what I told you of his attempting to force himself upon me yesterday—” her contrite and open gaze met his “—that was truth. It made me realize I could not continue to hope I would find a man who would afford me the protection of his name, and thus William, before it was too late.”
At her open admission of wanting him for what she considered his more noble qualities alone, Benedict felt an unexpected regret. He gave a mental shrug. He had not expected a young and lovely woman like her to have become infatuated with him for any personal reason.
He brushed such thoughts aside. “Again I ask, why me? What made you think I would look after you and your brother without taking something for myself?”
“I lied, you know, when I told you that I had been closed inside the king’s chamber inadvertently.” In her agitation she rose up on her knees, her fiery auburn hair tumbling about her slender white shoulders in wild disarray, and Benedict was hard-pressed to recall the fact that she did not want him in any personal way.
He was not surprised to learn that she had lied to him, but continued to be somewhat shocked that now she had been found out, Raine was eager to admit it all, and so openly. It was almost as if she could not stop herself.
What a strange, impulsive creature she seemed. Exactly the opposite of the woman he had imagined for himself—for Brackenmoore.
He forced himself to attend what she was saying. “You were so worried about the honor of your brother’s wife that day, protective of her and her child. I wanted someone who would look after William that way. You see, he is gentle and small for his age. Besides needing someone to look to his lands until he is old enough to do so, he also requires gentle guidance. I felt you might be the one to give it. But I am no fool to believe the words a man speaks to a king. I talked with others, asked questions of all who knew of you, and none had a thing to say about you that contradicted my initial impression. Some said you were overstaid and responsible, but that did not trouble me.”
Benedict’s brows rose at what he felt was a less than flattering description of himself, but he made no comment. “I still do not see why you did not simply ask for my help. Why go to all of this effort at deception and cause us both such great embarrassment?”
She shrugged, with a frown of chagrin. “I did not think of it, never considered that you would help a strange woman with no familial ties to you. I knew only that I could not allow Denley to rape me and thus force a marriage. I could not allow him to gain control of all that my father had entrusted to me when he died. And truth to tell, I do not believe I would have asked that of you if I had considered it. Denley would have felt free to press his suit as long as I was unwed.” She shrugged again. “I do not know how you can doubt me on that score after having met him, seen his determination.”
Benedict grimaced. He could not argue the point. “The man does seem completely blind to all but the way he wishes to view things.”
Raine nodded. “Precisely.”
Though he did agree with her on that one matter, Benedict could not allow her to think he was dismissing the sheer madness of her actions. “Even saying that, I cannot forget your own disregard for the feelings of others, namely myself.”
She had the grace to flush scarlet, though he could tell by the way she tilted that finely shaped nose of hers that she resented his words. “Disregarding your feelings is not what I was trying to do.”
“Yet you did do it and we now find ourselves in this predicament.” His gaze went to the closed doorway. In spite of his sending all of them away, Benedict knew that there were questions that would need be answered in order to have any hope of salvaging Raine’s honor. No matter what he or she said now, things would never be as they had been. Too many people had seen them here together, witnessed the blood on the sheet.
Most of them would not stop to think about the ludicrous amount of blood, nor any other facts, even if the truth were told to them. But that was not his fault. It was not he who had brought this upon Raine’s head. She had.
Hadn’t she?
He stood and looked about the chamber. “Where are my clothes?”
She frowned and pointed toward the chest at the end of the bed.
He was somewhat surprised to see how neatly she had folded them atop her own equally neatly kept garments. He would not have thought her so tidy.
Immediately Benedict began to dress. He paid no attention to Raine other than turning his back. Any further show of modesty would be pointless. He was certain that she was the one who had undressed him, so there was really no point in attempting to hide himself from her.
He heard the rustle of her movements as she rose from the bed behind him. She did not speak until he had finished putting on his houppelande, which told him that she had made note of his progress in dressing.
When she addressed him, the regret in her voice made him turn and look at her bent head closely. “I am very sorry, my lord, for the trouble I have brought you.”
She then raised her gaze to his, even as she wrapped her arms all the more tightly around the waist of the green velvet robe she had donned. “Yet I must admit that I would do it all again. I love my brother and promised my father that I would look after him no matter what. Given my thought process, I could not have done other than what I did.”
Benedict sighed, sympathy for her again rising inside him in spite of the fact that she was at fault here. He was distracted from having to answer by a soft scratching at the door.
His gaze met Raine’s as she called out with forced composure. “Who is there?”
A hesitant voice replied, “William.”
The regret that stabbed him as chagrin and sadness filled her golden eyes surprised and worried Benedict. Wanting to give himself anything to think about other than his disturbing reaction, he strode forward to open the door.