Chapter 15
Feeling happy and relieved by Winter’s acceptance to marry him, Martin had a thousand thoughts swarming around in his head. He’d been too excited to sit still. Anxiously, he’d mounted his horse and rode quickly back to Castle Heaton to share the news.
“Slow down, Martin,” said Winter from behind him, laughing as she spoke. “I swear I won’t change my mind before we get back to the castle.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, slowing his horse, allowing her to catch up. “I guess I’m just anxious to plan the wedding.”
“When will it be?” she asked him, wondering if there would be time to send missives to her family.
“Right away,” he told her. “If Father George is still in the chapel from this morning’s service, I won’t let him leave until we’ve said our vows.”
“That fast?” she asked. “Shouldn’t we post the wedding banns and wait the required three weeks?”
“What for?” he asked. “No one is going to object to us getting married.”
“Well, I should hope not,” she answered. “I suppose since we’ve already coupled and I could possibly even be carrying your baby already, it would be a good idea to be married right away.”
“Baby?” he asked, fear coursing through him. He hadn’t considered that. But, of course, any time he took a woman to his bed there was always the possibility of siring a bastard. “Aye, it would be best to be wed right away.”
Martin noticed visitors when he entered the courtyard of the castle with Winter at his side. Curiously, he cocked his head, not seeing the crest of any lord draped over the horses that pulled the wagon.
He quickly dismounted and helped Winter to the ground. The crowd of people stood just outside the door of the great hall.
“Stay here,” he told her. “I have unannounced visitors and it might be trouble.” Placing his hand over the hilt of the sword at his side, he cautiously ventured forward, wondering what all the excitement was about. He heard his father’s voice from the midst of the crowd and cursed inwardly. He should never have left the castle without making sure someone was watching him. There was no telling what he’d do since he wasn’t in his right mind. His father was living in a dream world and needed to move on.
“Martin, Son, there you are,” called out his father. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve been out riding with Lady Winter,” he told him. “What is all the commotion about, Father?”
“You won’t believe it, Martin. She’s back!”
His attention heightened when he heard that. Had his mother and sisters returned? He couldn’t wait to see them. He felt foolish wishing for it, but mayhap they were back at Castle Heaton, and his father wasn’t a lunatic after all. “Where is she, Father?” When he walked up, the crowd parted. He scoped the faces of the people, searching for his mothers or sisters. Instead, he spotted someone he wasn’t expecting to see, nor did he want to see at this moment.
“Victoria?” he said, his past coming back to haunt him.
“Martin, darling.” Lady Victoria of Essex answered in her elaborate way, holding out her hand and raising her chin, waiting for Martin to kiss her as was proper.
Damn, why did she have to show up after all this time? Why couldn’t she stay buried in his past where she belonged?
“Greet your betrothed properly, Son,” said Lambert.
Reluctant to do so but feeling pressured to since everyone was watching, he took Lady Victoria’s hand in his and bowed to kiss it. Everyone clapped, giving their approval that Victoria had returned.
When Winter heard all the noise, she had to see what was going on. Even though Martin told her to stay there, the cheering and clapping sounded exciting. She wondered if he’d told everyone about their betrothal. Smiling and feeling confident, Winter hurried forward, not wanting to miss out on the small celebration since it was on her behalf, too.
“Martin, I’m here,” she said, pushing her way between a few serfs, making her presence known. The crowd became suddenly silent, stepping away to allow her to enter. She stopped in her tracks, and her mouth fell open when she saw Martin bowing and kissing the hand of a very beautiful lady.
“Who are you to be addressing Lord de Grey by his Christian name?” sniffed the woman, sticking her nose in the air. She looked to be about five years older than Winter. The woman was elegant and regal. Her long, blond hair twisted into coils around each ear, accentuating her long face that looked to be made of porcelain. Almond-shaped, bright blue eyes stared out at Winter. They were outlined with a thin, dark brown line while her cheeks were overly red. Her face was white with most the color around her eyes. Her clothes were ornate and expensive and fit for a queen. The many jewels that adorned her body sparkled in the sunlight.
“I – I am Lady Winter,” she told her in a soft voice. Why did this woman’s presence upset her? She could be any noblewoman visiting from another castle. Then again, by the way she was looking at Martin, Winter got the feeling there was something between the two of them. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Martin, have you lost your knightly manners?” asked the woman, flicking her fingers together. “Tell the girl who I am.”
Being called a girl wasn’t to Winter’s liking. She had just told the woman she was a lady, yet she was still being belittled.
“Lady Winter, I’d like you to meet Lady Victoria of Essex,” said Martin.
“Not anymore,” said the woman named Victoria.
“What are you saying?” asked Martin.
“I’m back to live at Castle Heaton, just like before.” She lifted the corners of her mouth in a snarky smile.
“But what about your husband, Baron Dinham of Kent?” asked Martin.
“Martin, darling, I never married him. I thought you knew that.”
“Nay,” he said, shaking his head.
“I couldn’t marry him,” she continued. “Because, after all, I am still betrothed to you.”
“What?” Winter felt a stab to her heart sharper than the swords she forged. Martin was already betrothed, yet he asked her to marry him? What kind of game was he playing now? She turned and ran through the courtyard toward the smithy.
“Winter, wait!” Martin called out from behind her, but she did not turn around. She hurried into the smithy and slammed the door, sinking atop a chair, feeling like crying. A tear escaped her eye, but she brushed it away when the door to the blacksmith’s shop slammed open and Martin ran in, looking around. She got up and headed over to the anvil, picking up a stone and making fast, furious circles over the sword to smooth it.
“Winter, why did you run?”
“I should have trusted my instincts. You were just playing a game with me. I should never have believed you wanted to marry me.”
“That’s not true.” In two long strides, he was across the room with his hand on her shoulder. She stopped working. “I still want to marry you. I love you.”
“Martin?” came Victoria’s voice from the door. “You can’t marry her; you are still betrothed to me.”
“Victoria, I might have been betrothed to you at one time, but you left. The betrothal no longer holds true,” said Martin.
Winter was almost relieved until Victoria crossed her arms over her chest and smiled that wicked smile once again. It gave Winter shivers up her spine. This woman was up to no good.
“You might want to rethink your decision, Martin. After all, you wouldn’t want your son to be a bastard, would you?”
Winter’s eyes opened wide. “You have a son?” she asked Martin.
“Nay,” he protested. “She is making that up.”
“Are you sure about that?” Victoria motioned to someone outside the door. A nursemaid walked in carrying a little boy who looked to be about a year old. “Martin, say hello to your son and heir . . . little Martin the second.”
It was all Winter could take. She put down the stone and ran from the room, almost knocking into Victoria in her hurry.
“Winter,” Martin called out, making her stop and turn around.
She saw Victoria stopping him by grabbing his arm. “Hold your son, Martin. He needs you.”
Winter’s eyes filled with tears as her gaze interlocked with Martin’s. Then she turned and ran as fast as she could to her bedchamber, entering the room and leaning her back against the door once inside, trying to catch her breath.
“Lady Winter?” Nairnie was at the window and turned around when she entered. “What is it?”
“Pack your things. We’re leaving, Nairnie.”
“Leavin’?” asked the old woman in surprise. “I was sure when ye went for a ride with Lord de Grey ye were goin’ to come back and tell me ye decided to accept his proposal of marriage.”
“I did.” She hurried across the room and opened a trunk, starting to throw things inside it.
“Och, lassie, ye make no sense. If ye said ye’d marry him then why are we leavin’?”
“Because I’ve changed my mind.” She pulled off the cream-colored gown and threw it on a chair. Then she changed her mind and tossed it into the trunk as well. “Lady Victoria arrived today.”
“I thought I saw someone down there,” said Nairnie, glancing back out the window into the courtyard. “Who is she?”
“She’s Martin’s betrothed, that’s who she is. I guess she left a few years ago and now she’s back to stay.” She looked up and wiped a tear from her eye. “We never even had the chance to tell anyone we were getting married.” Her sense of self-pity turned to anger now. “He’s been playing a game with me all along. He never meant to marry me and lied when he said he loved me.”
“Calm down before ye burst,” scolded Nairnie, waddling toward her from the window. “If she left years ago, I’m sure the betrothal no longer holds true. Martin will still marry ye.”
“Well, I’m not sure. And I’m no longer sure I want to marry him anyway.”
“Dinna let someone like Lady Victoria make ye change yer mind.”
“It’s not her,” she said. “Not really. But how can I marry Martin when he and Victoria have a son together?”
“Ye need to talk to Martin, lassie. Dinna overreact to things that ye dinna have facts on yet.”
“I don’t know, Nairnie. I just won’t feel right around him now.”
There came a knock at the door. Winter knew without opening it that it was Martin. She hurriedly donned one of the gowns she wore when she worked in the forge.
Nairnie went over and pulled the door open, and Martin rushed in.
“Winter, please. We need to talk,” he said, hurrying across the room.
“I don’t see what we have to talk about.” She continued to throw things into the trunk. His eyes swept downward.
“You’re not going to leave, are you?”
“I can’t stay, Martin. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t leave.”
“Why not? Nothing is keeping me here anymore.”
“The sword!”
“What?”
“You haven’t finished my sword yet. You can’t leave until you do.”
Winter crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that a command or a request?”
“Please, Winter,” he said, laying his hand on her shoulder. “At least stay until I can straighten all this out. We will talk about it more after the main meal tonight.”
Winter looked over to Nairnie who was pretending she wasn’t listening to their conversation although she was. Nairnie nodded slowly.
“All right,” said Winter. “But this doesn’t change anything. I will not be betrothed to a man who is already promised to another woman – and with a child, no less.”
“It’s all just a misunderstanding,” he said lifting his hand and skimming his fingers down the side of her face. “You’ll see.” He turned to go.
“I can only hope,” she said, watching him leave.
“See, it’s just as I told ye,” said Nairnie. “A misunderstandin’ is all it is.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But I’m not convinced.” She headed to the door.
“Where are ye goin’, lassie?” asked Nairnie.
“I need to work in the forge. I have to get my mind off of Martin.”
“I dinna ken how workin’ on Martin’s sword will take yer mind off him, but I’ll take a walk with ye. I want to see this Lady Victoria who has ye so upset.”