Chapter Eighteen
Huntington.
Here she was yet again. She sighed as she stared up at the green and black standards waving upon the castle’s outermost curtain wall. Her life was beginning to feel like a snag in time, like a recurring dream, as if she were trapped in a mythical place of the fae folk from which she would never escape, doomed to repeat the same occurrence for the rest of her life.
And yet, there was also relief. She felt safe in these walls, even if Charlotte was here. She had never felt safe in Ayr. Here, the soldiers she had dined with were kind. Robert’s men were friendly. Alice might shake her head at her unladylike appearance, and Wesley might have made a point to glare at her during her first supper in the hall, but the people here smiled and laughed. No man had yet to haul her to her chamber to administer discipline. The people of Huntington knew they were secure.
Robert rode under the portcullis, through the gatehouse tunnel, through his outer yards and into his bailey, where his serving staff waited to greet him. Mariel dropped her grip on Robert’s waist. Riding astride and plastered to the lord’s back, Alice would already have cause to click her tongue.
“Alice,” Robert said.
“My lord.” His head servant curtsied. “The hearth in the great hall is being set to roaring for your comfort, and Bridget is seeing to refreshments for your…” She noticed Mariel dismounting from behind Robert. “Pleasure,” she finished.
The way Alice’s lips pursed in distaste was not lost on Mariel. The woman no doubt thought Robert’s interest in her was misguided.
“See to it a hot bath is prepared for the lady in the old kitchen.” Robert gestured to Mariel.
“Not for you, my lord?” Alice questioned.
“I intend to use it after her. The dirt of the road is clinging to me and feels like paste, but there’s no sense in wasting two tubs of hot water.”
Alice nodded but bowed her head. “One was already being prepared for you, my lord, in your chamber, since you generally like to cleanse yourself after a long journey. The tub would need to be emptied before it can be moved.”
Robert paused, looked at Mariel, and seemed to come to a decision.
“Well, there’s certainly no reason to go to all that labor,” he said, never severing his eyes from Mariel’s “The lady may bathe in my bedchamber where the tub rests. I shall busy myself elsewhere until she finishes.”
Alice did her best to swallow her shock and reached out to guide Mariel forward. “I shall see the lady tended first, as you wish.”
Robert nodded and replied. “Please also request Lady Charlotte’s presence—” Mariel’s head whipped around. Robert allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up in the cocky smirk he used when teasing her. “In the great hall, if you please. I have a favor to ask of her, which should work to the advantage of our lady guest,” he added, nodding to Mariel.
She watched him dismount and hand off his reins. He climbed the steps, arriving beside her to pass.
“Trust in me,” he whispered, dipping his head low to hers so she might hear, before continuing onward.
Alice led Mariel up a set of stairs from the great hall, around the gallery, and down the corridor leading to Robert’s solar. Instead, Alice ushered her into the lord’s chamber. A hefty wooden tub sat before a massive hearth while children filled it with pots of steaming water. The chamber was expansive, high ceilings, a giant bed of ornately carved wood, draped in fine green and silver velvet canopies. The furniture was old, fine, and upon one wall was an entire shelf of precious books. The floors were covered in rugs imported from the Continent and every candlestick she saw had been cast in gold, glittering in light from the dancing fire.
“You may lay down your things here.” Alice gestured to a polished chair that had been moved to make room for the tub. “I’ll go fetch Lady Charlotte to the great hall as His Lordship has requested.”
Mariel gaped at the books, gaped at the metal coats of arms upon the walls, the sheer wealth that had been required to outfit such a room. Then her eyes settled on the bed. It was the most intimate item of them all. Robert slept there. How did he look when he slept? Did he sleep without clothing? Did he sprawl or toss his arms up? How many women had known this bed?
At long last, Alice returned.
“All right, into the bath,” she said with a harrumph.
“I suppose Robert thinks I smell,” Mariel said.
Alice scoffed. “I’ve seen your ways. Whilst you smell no worse than any other man, therein lies the problem. You’re not a man. The earl says you’re a noblewoman. You ought to act the part. I can only imagine how you’ve disappointed your unfortunate father, wherever the man might be. And your garments need laundering. Remove them and I’ll see to their washing.”
“I’ve nothing else to wear.” Mariel swallowed, refusing to allow the servant’s words to sting.
Her father was not unfortunate. He was a tyrant. And indeed he had been disappointed in her, though it mattered not if she’d worn gowns or trousers. It had mattered not if she’d mastered the manners befitting of a woman. It most assuredly had mattered not if she wore the beautiful silk ribbon he had given her so many years ago, so he might see she appreciated his kindness. She was strong-willed and a woman, two accursed traits, and therefore in need of constant discipline. Except the lesson of his fist had seemed to come out of nowhere most of the time, and there was nothing she could have done to make him happy. She had not been born a lad, and there was nothing she would ever be able to do to change that.
“Lady Charlotte brings a gown for you at His Lordship’s request.”
“A gown?” Mariel balked. Robert had mentioned asking Charlotte to find her some things to make her stay more comfortable, but he hadn’t said a gown.
“Indeed. It’s an article of clothing worn by gentlewomen, in case you’ve never seen one—”
Mariel rolled her eyes.
“—though you’ve hardly adequate flesh to hold a gown on. And the one you kept in your traveling packs is in poor repair. Hardly worthy of the Earl of Huntington’s company.”
“Why should I require his company?” she argued, for the sake of argument.
“You’re here as his guest. You’ll indeed spend time with him, whether it be in the hall or, em, more personal encounters,” Alice said. “Which he seems to be fond of, judging by your return to us once more.”
The older woman blushed at her implication.
“Encounters?” Mariel snapped, growing agitated. “And what makes you think I should share my company with His Lairdship in private?” Of course, she knew why Alice thought that, but it didn’t mean the woman needed to make assumptions. “He’s made nary an indication that my attire offends him. Therefore, I shall keep my tunic and trews. Honestly, if more women were bold enough to try them on, they would see that the attire is much more suitable to all manners of labor and leisure.”
“Ah, that is the other thing, my lady. You must curb your Scottish tongue. Falsify an English accent. His Lordship has just suggested you’re talented in such endeavors. He wishes you to remain as secret as possible to outsiders for the next few days whilst he makes certain arrangements.”
Arrangements? “But I’ve already dined with some of his men. They know me to be Scottish,” Mariel said. “The secret is out.”
“Yes, but he has just instructed all the staff to keep your secret. Rumors about you abound, yes, but Lord Robert’s people are a loyal lot.”
“Even Wesley?” countered Mariel.
“I know not one woman that Wesley likes. The bolder the female, the more his dislike. But he knows where his salary comes from and certainly enjoys his prestigious role. For an accountant at Huntington holds much respect, and there is no wealthier household in England, aside from the Plantagenets.”
“Trust Alice,” a voice said.
Mariel turned around to find Charlotte by the door, waiting for the troop of children to file out and holding a billowing gown and basket of accessories. She pushed the port closed, so that it was only the three of them, and looked around with wonder at Robert’s chamber. Could it be she had never been in here?
“Trust Alice?” Mariel repeated.
“Yes, lady,” Charlotte replied, bringing her attention back to Mariel. Lovely. Mariel rolled her eyes, but Charlotte continued. “Robert’s men are loyal. They’ll keep your secret to themselves. Robert likes you. He wishes to help you and would love to see you happy.”
“Am I to think you set me up with Robert?” Lord no. Charlotte was a day late and a shilling short in that regard.
Charlotte draped the gown over another chair and folded her arms. “No one need help His Lordship concerning you. To say that he’s taken with you wouldn’t nearly do the sentiment justice. He cannot seem to keep his thoughts or his eyes off you. Goodness, he’s invited you into his bedchamber.” She gestured. “He never invited me in.” Mariel swallowed. Could it be no woman had lain in his bed? The former mistress walked an appraising circle around her. “The way he whispers in your ear, that mischievous twinkle in his eye… Clearly he adores you.”
“Then what does it matter, the clothing I wear, if he’s already so infatuated?” And though Robert had asked Charlotte for her help, why was Charlotte doing it? Robert had bedded Charlotte many times over. The very thought made her heart ache and her stomach flutter with a nervousness that could only be described as jealousy.
“He knows you’ve had a rough go of it and wants you to feel as beautiful as you are.” Charlotte is nice, Mariel thought, to her chagrin. “And you have been endowed with perhaps the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. ’Tis a shame indeed that you don’t see fit to style it. Just think. You’d probably get a marriage offer from the man, if you did so, which is saying something, since no one, not even I, could get him to the altar.”
Again, Mariel had a nagging urge to tell the woman off, mainly for being right. Robert already awaited her answer to his proposal.
“And that is just the gown to please a man,” Alice interjected, coming to take the garment out of Charlotte’s hand. “Assuming it is dressed upon a pleasing woman. Come now. Strip those old rags for the laundry and put this gown on so our seamstress can make some adjustments. No doubt it will need to be taken in considerably due to your…stature.”
There it was again, Alice’s sarcasm.
“I’m nay fishing for a marriage proposal,” Mariel retorted. “I’ve no desire to tolerate the man for the rest of my God-given life.” Liar, she scolded herself. Robert’s proposal had thrilled her…and scared her.
Charlotte scoffed. “How can you not see the good in him?”
“Clearly he’s never attempted to embarrass you the way he has me.” Mariel frowned.
“If only he would tease me like he does you,” Charlotte said, looking into the hearth fire. “But regardless, I wish to see him happy and consider him a friend. He requested I help you, being one of only two noblewomen here aside from yourself, and lo he is annoyed by Lady Anna’s pestering. Alice is right. Your clothing is atrocious and your gown, dreary and pathetic.”
“You must promise to give these claes—clothes—back,” Mariel replied, holding the trousers by the leg.
“Unfortunately, I’ll do as you bid and see them returned. With mending done,” Alice said, seeing the gown dropped over her head for a hasty fitting before being stripped away again. “Now get into the tub, my lady.”
Mariel stepped over the rim, feeling vulnerable. Certainly she had stripped many times in front of maids or other ladies helping her, but never had she revealed herself to the former lover of the man she was growing to care for, laying her body bare for the other woman to draw comparisons or contrasts between the two of them. And having Alice, of all people, help was simply annoying, for she knew the woman was identifying every flaw. She was too thin. Her muscles were too defined. She was uncouth. She smelled like the men coming back from a journey. Of course, she had come back from the same journey as them without a chance to do much but refresh her face at the stream, but apparently, she was supposed to smell like roses and lavender, regardless.
However, as she sank down into the scalding water, all annoyances dissolved. The heat was heavenly. She hadn’t realized her very bones ached until she submerged herself. How long had it been since she had soaked in a hot bath?
Alice untied her braid, pulling loose her cords of hair, and bid her tip her head back so that she could pour water through the tresses. Even if Alice was too rough, the feeling of the woman’s fingers kneading her scalp and working through her tangles felt sinful. And taking the cake of perfumed soap made with various floral elements, she rubbed it over her arms and the whole of her skin, basking in a luxury she had forgotten while living on the run. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it.
…
Mariel remembered to freshen her teeth and walked down the stairs, her stomach so tight she could barely suck in air. Both the corset and her nerves threatened to suffocate her. The gown Charlotte had selected was a beautiful creation of fabric, soft cream and gentle rose-petal pink to match the natural blush on her cheeks. Gold threading decorated the low neck, scooping wide across each shoulder with a delicate design, and a long belt of the same gold threading hung across her hips and down the length of one leg. The seamstresses had delivered both fast and astounding results.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had worn something so fine. Even though her father had money and had insisted she dress well, these materials were imported from France and Italy. Her gowns in Scotland, though finely combed, dyed, and embroidered, had been made of Scottish wool.
And her hair! She had never felt so beautiful. It had been woven over each ear in the style popular on the Continent and braided down her back with ribbons of the same soft pink and flecks of gold so as to make her honey-barley hair catch fire in the torchlight. Her neck sat empty, for she had no riches in her possession to decorate the expanse of skin, but Charlotte had borrowed a pair of golden bobbles from the castle vaults to place on her ears. And though Alice clicked her tongue disapprovingly at the dusting of tiny freckles across Mariel’s nose and cheekbones, a result of too much time in the natural elements, Charlotte worked magic with paste for her lips and a soft dusting of color on her eyes.
It had been months since she had felt feminine, and with her father’s shadow of anger always smothering her, she had never felt lovely. But she felt beautiful now as she looked at her transformation in Robert’s copper plate. While exciting on one hand, it made her ever-present vulnerability flare. The men and women of Huntington would judge her when she walked into the great hall. Many would wonder who she was, for she looked entirely different. They would stare and whisper, and Robert would see her dressed like a prized woman of breeding, hindered by her heavy skirts and beautiful, if not completely worthless, slippers.
What if he no longer saw her as his equal? The idea caused her to pause. Self-doubt gripped her, and once again she found herself turning around to retreat to her chamber. I shouldn’t be seen like this. She hiked back up the stairs with all confidence lost. Except Alice came zipping down the steps to tend to her other duties with a massive basket in her arms, taking up the width of the stairwell.
“Dinner awaits, my lady.” She huffed. “Hurry, or you shan’t have a thing to eat once the soldiers have their fill. Go on. If I am to pass with this heavy basket, I can’t do so until you reach the bottom.”
Mariel took in a deep breath, exhaled with defeat, and pivoted back around. If only she could wear her quiver and carry her bow. It would give her a badly needed confidence boost. She came to the great hall merry with torchlight and loud with chatter. Each meal here was such a display, adorned with heavy breads and savory meats, vegetables and sweets flavored with honey and sugar.
Surveying the room, she rested unnoticed in the shadow of the doorway, when Alice whizzed back by and gave her a scoot to get moving.
“If I didn’t know better, lady, I would say you show cowardice,” the woman chastised, nudging her into the hall.
She scoffed. Of course she wasn’t scared. Am I?
She most definitely was scared. And then those at the nearest trestle table took notice, a guardsman and a serving girl he had pulled upon his lap who could not have been much older than five and ten, who draped herself upon the man with the experience of a London tavern whore. He stared, his eyes moving up and down, resting upon her face, hair, and generous cleavage. He nudged his mate, who did the same, until the table had hushed and those at the next table turned to see what had caused the silence.
And then the dais took notice. As the chamber hushed, Robert looked up from his attempts to end Anna’s flirtations beside him. Their eyes locked. Her face burned. Holding a rib, he paused in mid bite with his hand halfway to his mouth. The silence rippled across the room like a wave, swallowing chatter as it rolled to the opposite wall until she stood on display in the grandest hush she had ever heard. Knowing her face blushed more deeply than her gown, she fought the urge to run.
Coward! she scolded herself. But being a coward was justified, and she began to turn around. Except Robert dropped the meat with a clatter and jumped to his feet, wiping his fingers on his napkin and dropping it on top of his food. He moved around the other guests upon the dais to make his way across the room.
Robert slowed to a stop a couple feet before her then offered his hand to escort her. Heat raged across her face, but she took it, placing her fingers into the cup of his palm. He grinned, though it was not the cocky grin of arrogance he was so talented at producing, nor was it the appreciative grin of a man faced with beauty he hoped to bed. It was a silent grin of awe as he searched her eyes to determine what she was thinking. It was the smile of a man who was falling in love.
Love? She shed the thought. She was romanticizing his smile overmuch. Such arrogance on her part to ever think a man might fall at her feet for being beautiful and proclaim his love for her. Only in a bard’s stories were women so lucky and men so paralyzed by beauty.
He walked her through the silent hall, climbing the dais. Without taking his eyes from hers, he said to Anna, “Please return to your seat, Lady Anna. The chair beside mine is for the beauty on my arm…and no one else.”
Anna’s face flushed. Her eyes darted to Mariel with a scathing glare, and then fell to her lap. She stood, embarrassed, and moved toward the exit with her head ducked down.
Mariel felt Anna’s embarrassment. All along she had wished Robert would dismiss the ladies falling at his feet, but now that he had, she felt sorry for the girl. Her flirting had been harmless and perhaps Robert could have been more courteous, though in the end she was also relieved. He had just made a powerful statement and the entire hall had seen it, including Charlotte, sitting several seats down, watching them.
Seeing her seated, he took his chair and poured her wine into a silver goblet, handing it to her and letting her fingers touch his as she took it from him. He said nothing as he picked up the serving utensils and transferred a heap of meat, vegetables, and bread to her plate, the rings upon his fingers glittering in the torchlight. He began reaching for the platter of sweets, too, when she stopped him.
“Do you realize how tight this damned corset is?” she whispered. “I can hardly breathe, let alone fit so much food down my gullet.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Even when dressed in the finest garments money can buy and poised like a lady of more import than Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, you have such a blunt way with words.”
“I don’t act more important than any queen,” she said, when she felt his hand encase hers. He leaned over to speak in her ear and the room mercifully began to resume chatting. No doubt gossiping about her and Huntington, if the heads turning to look at them were an indication.
“Mari,” he whispered. “You don’t act. The grace in which you entered this hall shows me there is a refined side to you. You’ve shown me your thorns time and again, but this eve you show me your rose blossom.”
“And you prefer the blossom, all primped and perfumed.”
He shook his head. “You don’t get it yet, do you? I prefer the entire parcel. All of it. Despite your unique skill and sharp mind, you’re one of the most elegant creatures I’ve ever seen. It dismays me greatly that every man here sees you, too, for I’m watching their eyes settle on your endowments as we speak, no doubt wishing you were a serving wench for them to pull upon their lap.”
“I can nay—sorry, cannot help the way I look,” she defended, looking at her plate, feeling his breath on her ear and neck.
“Indeed. Though you were hiding your beauty behind your poorly kept hair and male garments. I’ve thought you were beautiful from the first moment you entered my tent at the tourney and care not what you wear. But I appreciate the magic Charlotte has worked, and deep down I believe you have missed such primping. But believe me, though I benefit greatly from this vision, I only had your happiness in mind when I requested Charlotte’s favor.”
She took some dainty bites of food, for honestly, the corset was so tight it might actually be cutting off her blood flow and “dainty” was all her stomach could handle. Neither spoke for a while, but she could sense his eyes creep sidelong at her from time to time. Taking more wine, instead of a stout ale, she longed to clear her trencher of its succulent foods, for so much time without a stable food supply had made her learn to indulge each time the moment presented itself.
And out of nowhere, the sentiment hit her, dressed as she was. She longed for her sister again. The two had spent many hours together daydreaming of fine gowns and beautiful adornments. Even when their father had made life a living hell, the two of them could pass the time in each other’s chambers daydreaming of valiant men in chain mail, bearing gifts and begging favors. They had styled each other’s hair and on some occasions, snuck food away from the board, so that late at night when stripped of their restrictive corsets, they might sit together on Mariel’s bed, indulge their stomachs, and curl together while Mariel read aloud from her book of miracles. Teàrlach’s words about heartbroken Madeline rang in her mind.
Robert leaned down to her ear again, shaking her from her thoughts. “Will you accompany me to my solar?”
The quiet of his voice made her pulse jump. At this hour? He wanted her to accompany him?
“Do you plan another meeting this eve?”
He shook his head, taking her hand again. “I have something I wish to give you. ’Twill only be you and me.”
She looked around, certain that everyone could hear his whisper despite the din of feasting and the lute and harpist that were beginning to play. Soon, a bard began to regale the hall with a tale of a young king who dressed as a peasant to spy on a beauty, a crofter’s daughter who he later seduced and ultimately made his queen. The tale was fraught with both humor and love. Huntington’s men and women fell into rows of laughter, and it was then that Robert squeezed her hand.
She turned to look at him, the first she had done during the meal, and he let go of her hand, caressing her cheek. Lord, did he intend to seduce her? She began to blush at simply the idea. How did he do that? Make her limbs feel weak when she hadn’t exerted herself? But if he intended to seduce her, then why would he suggest rendezvousing in his solar and not his bedchamber? But maybe that was just it. His solar was more formal, and therefore others might speculate less.
She sighed. She was overthinking his request.
“Come.” He chuckled, as if he could see the thoughts flitting around her head.
While the hall sat with their attention diverted, Robert slipped Mariel away. Will watched them go and Mariel noted the slightest of nods exchanged between them, but could do no more than speculate at their meaning. However, Will was engaging with Charlotte and doing a fine job of keeping the woman distracted.
They said nothing as they moved through the corridor, climbing the stairs, causing the torchlight to waver as she swept by in her gown. At long last, they reached the carved doors of his solar. Robert opened them and ushered her in. Removing a torch from the wall, he went to the tapers upon the circular table and lit each one, then went to one of the hearths and put new kindling beneath the stack of logs laid out by the serving staff and lit it with the torch as well.
Upon returning the torch to its sconce in the corridor, he pushed the door shut, placed a bar across it to keep out anyone with enough audacity to enter the lord’s solar, and turned to look at her. He took her in, in her entirety, taking a moment to make the slow, burning perusal he hadn’t made in the hall below.
“You are stunning,” he finally said.
The cavernous ceiling, shadowed banners above them, and tall windows blackened by night made the room dark despite the few flames Robert had lit. He strode forward, his eyes flitting to her naked collarbone and her endowed bosom. She felt shy, knowing he watched the shadows dancing upon her skin. As he arrived in front of her, he reached to her face and cupped her cheek. Leaning down, he gave her a sweet but chaste kiss. His finger trailed down her cheek, then her jaw, then her neck, burning a path downward, downward, toward the soft rises of her breasts.
She couldn’t contain the exhale that escaped her throat. But just as she began to think his seduction had begun, he took a step back, then another, and turned away, walking to his sideboard, where a locked box polished to a shine sat.
“I said I had something for you. I couldn’t help but think that for a lady of breeding, you had quite the naked throat,” he said, his back turned, as he fished a key out of his codpiece.
Lord, but even from behind it appears as if he trifles with his cock.
He unlocked the box and lifted the lid, then shut it again, locked it again, and returned the key to the purse resting at the juncture of his thighs. Coming back to her, he held a velvet pouch. He opened the flap and pulled out a necklace made of golden links, containing a pendant of a rose quartz the color of her gown, inlaid in a gold disc.
“Will you accept this?” he asked.
Her mouth was agape, she realized, as she reached out to finger the precious jewelry. Promptly, she closed her mouth. A gift of jewels was not what she’d expected. “Wherever did you get such a treasure?” she asked.
“’Twas my mother’s.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke his next words, but allowed his finger to mingle with hers as they both examined the stone. “After she died, my father began collecting her riches to sell off or melt down for other items of importance. She had always loved this one. She had told me it was a family heirloom, though I never knew from whom it descended. So, before my father could get his hands on some of her more prized items, I stole them and hid them away in my belongings. I know he killed her. But I couldn’t bear to let him kill everything that she held to be beautiful, too.” Now his hazel eyes, warm from the firelight, shifted to hers. “I never had a plan for it except to always keep it…until I saw you tonight.”
He reached into his coat and pulled something out. Handing it to her, he left it in her open hand. Her pink ribbon, or at least what had once been a pink ribbon, unraveled into a wad.
“I searched the forest for you when you disappeared from my tourney. I never found you, but I did find this, by a stream, under a log. I recalled you wearing it…”
His voice trailed away. Her eyes widened, fixed on the ribbon. She picked it up from her palm and extended it wide.
“I don’t know why I kept it,” she whispered. “I searched for it after I left the tourney, but it must have fallen out of my packs whilst I was changing. I was saddened by the loss.”
“It’s a fine ribbon, Mari. Obviously it wasn’t cheap. Any woman might miss it.”
But she was shaking her head. And then it happened. There was no stopping it. She threw her head in her hands and cried. She worked so hard to never cry, but now, there was no holding back.
“What’s wrong, love?” Robert fretted, lifting her chin. “Look upon me, woman.” She began shaking her head, but he coaxed her up to him. “Your anguish ruins me. Tell me,” he urged.
“My faither gave it to me when I was young,” she whispered, swiping at her tears stubbornly. Still, he held her chin. “He always loathed me. But once, in a spirit of celebration, he gifted it to me. I let myself think for so long that he had done so because secretly he…he loved me.” Her last words were a whisper. “Every time he took out his wrath on me since, I tried to convince myself he did not mean it. He’d given me this,” she said, gesturing with the ribbon. “Loving faithers give their daughters adornments.”
She shook her head. “It took me years to finally realize it had been but a token to him and meant nothing, that he had been full of drink and had not even remembered it. I finally stopped believing in miracles, for I had hoped so badly that God would see fit to change his heart. I finally stopped forgiving him. When I discovered his plan to marry me off to a man just like him, I fled.”
Robert pulled her to him, enveloping her in his embrace. “You managed to survive. God, woman, don’t you see how strong you are? Trying to earn a smile from you has been the hardest work of my life,” he teased.
She looked up, laying her raw emotions bare.
“If I marry you, I give all of myself to you,” she said. “All that I am is yours. How can I trust you? God above, man, I want to trust you more than you think. I want to say ‘aye’ to your proposal. But I fear that if you do not really want marriage, you’ll resent me. I fear I’ve lost my heart, and I’m terrified of what you might do with it! I’m so afraid—”
His mouth crushed down upon hers and he squeezed her, the necklace still clenched in his fist. His kiss was demanding, urgent, full of intensity. When he pulled apart from her, he dropped down to one knee and took her hands.
“Let me do this for you, Mari. Let me protect you in the only way that I can. I know full well the decision I make and I’m choosing to do so.” He kissed the back of her hand and then looked to her eyes again. “Place your trust in me and I’ll never betray it. This I swear.”
…
She collapsed down to her knees, too, and threw herself into his arms with so much fervor it made Robert’s heart ache with pleasure. He dragged her against him, falling to his rear on the rug before the fire and taking her with him so that they sat pressed together in a heap. He pulled her down so that they lay against each other and he encompassed her securely in his arms, feeling her head resting on his shoulder and her face pressed to his chest. Rolling her onto her back, he propped himself up beside her on his elbow, his head resting on his hand, his legs outstretched and tangled against hers, hidden by the fabric of her gown. He looked down into her eyes.
“Beautiful woman,” he whispered, touching her cheek. Lord, but she had taken his breath away in the hall. “I’ve wanted you alone, all to myself, since I met you.”
He kissed her again, sensually, letting his hand tease her skin, pushing the pendant with slow precision into the nest of her cleavage to ensure his gift was received and well-secured. She sucked in hard at the stone against her skin, her breath then hitching as he took to caressing circles upon it. She was aroused, which only aroused him further, and he dared to trail his fingertip along the edging of her gown, over each swell of her breast.
His thoughts moments ago, so planned and prepared, scattered now, and it took summoning his deepest determination to resist climbing between her legs.
“Wear this pendant so I know you’re mine. I’ll never break your trust,” he vowed. “Though we are certain to have disagreements, even arguments, in the years to come, know that I will always honor you.” His fingers continued to tease her skin. “And know that as you entrust your heart to me, I’m entrusting myself to you as well.”
She nodded, draping her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, where she initiated a kiss of her own. He groaned. God, how he had been wanting her to desire him fully. She was now, her fingers squeezing his shoulders, cupping his face, sliding over his chest and arms. His hand slid down her front to her waist, feeling where the corset cinched tightly above her hips. Then his hand slid down over a hip, down the top of her thigh, and back up again in a slow caress that promised sin but didn’t quite touch any sinful part of her body.
“What are you doing to me, Rob?” She sighed.
“Making myself irresistible so that you cannot refuse me,” he murmured in reply, giving her the cocky grin he knew she hated yet adored. She smiled the most gentle, most un-Mariel-like smile he had seen. He nearly took her body in hand right then and had his way. There was no harshness or bitterness upon her brow, no guarded frown. It was a look of dreamy contentment just for him. “In all seriousness, I’ve come to realize in only some short days that you’re the only woman I care to keep at my side.”
“I could have told you that from the beginning, for you have refused to let me leave,” she jested, to both of their surprise. He laughed, and she hushed her giggle, but her smile persisted, rising to her eyes and turning the almond shapes into happy squints.
“Ah, my beauty.” He exhaled and rested his forehead to hers. “Do you know how much of a favor it is when you cast your smile at me?” he said. “Marry me. Elope with me. I’ve waited the whole of our journey home for your answer to my proposal and yet you still don’t give it. I suspect you’re compelled to flee, but I wish to hear you say yes. I know a priest not far from here who can marry us, if you but say the word.”
“Home. You say it so freely, like it really does belong to me, too,” she said wistfully.
“I’ve made the offer.” He shrugged. “It’s your home if you wish it.”
Still, she looked away. What would it take for her to throw caution to the wind and accept him? “Despite your declaration to protect me, I need to know for certain if marriage is truly what you want. I must hear you say you want it, or I will forever fear that you’ve only married me out of pity.”
Why is she being so stubborn? He gazed into her eyes, a darker green in the firelight. If deep down, he never had a desire to marry, why was he so persistent now to keep her at his side, yet still so afraid to put the simple sentiment into words? What was the pinch in his heart that plagued him at the mere thought of losing her? Did he really want to unite both their souls at the altar and was too afraid to admit it? Was he truly in love but too afraid to admit it? Together, they could make an incredible team, a lord and lady united in a common love for their fellow man, and woman…and for each other.
Lord, the idea of love made him more edgy than the idea of marriage. Did he love her? Did he want to marry her? His mind began to swirl with all his competing thoughts and desires. He was good at jesting, but he was no good at serious matters of the heart.
“You’re taking too long to answer,” she began, her face becoming impassive.
She was withdrawing from him.
“Give me time, Mariel,” he whispered, reaching to her arm that she had dropped from his neck to place it back, “to come to terms with what I’m feeling. To find the best way to describe how you affect my heart…I’m new at this.”
She scoffed, as if she knew he was a liar and a rake, but he continued.
“Believe it or not, I am. Can you honestly say you’ve been in love with a man?” She said nothing but seemed to hang on the last of his words. “We might have learned loving from others, but I’ve never been serious about a woman…until now. Give me time to find the words. But know that regardless, I plan to marry you. I plan on binding you to me. If you have faith in me, you’ll feel compelled to elope with me. For soon, your father will be briefed by his man, Teàrlach, and a hunt for you will be mounted. There’s no delay to be had between now and getting to the altar.”
He continued to gaze down into her eyes. “And I’ll refrain from taking any more liberty with you until I know God has witnessed your union to me, as proof of my true intentions. But believe me…” He paused as his hand came back up and over a breast, leaning down to kiss the skin at her throat, her collarbone, and then downward, resting on one pillow of her exposed chest in a fiery kiss. “Waiting any length of time to join with you will be my hardest test of strength.”
He reluctantly withdrew and pushed himself back up on his knees, giving her assistance to right herself in the restrictive corset she wore. They rose to their feet. He helped her smooth out her wrinkles, running his hands over her rear and legs to push the fabric into rights.
“Then yes,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I’ll marry you.” His mouth split into a grateful smile and he began to drag her against him, but she held up a palm to stop him, her eyes solemn. “I know you only promise the effort of fidelity, and do nay profess to adhere to it, and I suppose I must settle in that regard.” He didn’t like the sadness it brought to her face. Had he not convinced her he intended to be faithful? “But know that if you ever turn harsh toward me, I shall leave you as I did my sire and I won’t look back.”
He returned her gaze. He never wanted her to leave. But finally, he nodded once. “A fair agreement, woman. Which means you’ll be stuck with my arrogant arse forever.”
He grinned, and she deigned to laugh. He draped the dangling string from the pendent in her cleavage over her neck, loving the look of his mother’s adornment upon her.
“You’re overly confident,” she teased.
“Ah, but I’m also right,” he added, earning that huff and roll of her eyes he was coming to relish.
“Arrogant arse was certainly an accurate description,” she said, and he rewarded her jesting with a carefree chuckle. They walked to the door. “What were you and Will nodding about?”
“What?” He turned to her with a confused crinkle to his brows.
“In the hall, as we left, you nodded to him and him you.”
His comprehension dawned. Ah, she really was astute. He would get nothing past her in their union.
“You would really like to know?”
She took a wary step back. “Mayhap now I’m afraid to ask.”
“You? Afraid of something? Bollocks,” he said. “He wishes to court the Lady Charlotte and wanted my blessing to preserve the goodwill that exists betwixt cousins, in case I still had intentions toward the woman.” He brought Mariel’s hand to his mouth, giving the backs of her fingers a kiss. “I gave him my full consent, for the only interest I have is for a woman with barley-gold hair and the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen, though I hear this woman is a hellion not easily managed.”
“Quite the cheeky bastard, aren’t you?” she retorted with a syrupy smile.
He winked as if she had just paid him a compliment instead of an insult. Pulling back the bar on the door, he opened it for her, ushered her out, and walked her down the corridors and around the gallery to her bedchamber, though he remained outside her door.
He eyed her bed, turned down and prepared by the maids. How easy it would be to share that bed with Mariel tonight. But he refrained and took her hands in his. They would consummate their union, and he would invite her to share his chamber, and she would be the only woman he had ever summoned to his bed.
“Sleep well, Lady Mariel,” he whispered in her ear as he leaned in for one more kiss. “Be at the upper practice yard on the morrow after breaking your fast.” She furrowed her brow, and he continued. “I wish you to train with my men, for I feel certain you now see the merit in stopping Nottingham and his kind.” She nodded, and he caressed his finger over her cheek. “And be prepared to elope with me soon. We mustn’t tarry in this endeavor, if there is any hope to protect you from your father.”