Emerald Knight

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Wolfe angrily pulled her back into his arms, cutting off her words with the press of his hard mouth. She inhaled a ragged breath of surprise as his warm lips sought to claim hers. At first she stiffened, as if intent on fighting him to the death if needs be. But, as his lips softened their hold, she lost her will.

  With deliberately slow strokes, Wolfe expertly licked her mouth. When she blinked in surprise, he could taste the saltiness of her tears as they spilled over her cheek. Her innocence was no match for his experience. She tried to push away in her confusion, but her motions were weak. He wrapped his steady arms about her, holding her still. By small degrees, her resistance faded.

  Wolfe felt her relax completely against the folds of his chest. A soft whimper vibrated her lips as she sighed. Then, as she nuzzled her body next to him, he forced his tongue between her closed lips to lick the edges. The motion had the desired effect and she gasped, opening her mouth completely to him.

  Ginevra shivered as his tongue flicked along the edge of her teeth. His hands became caressing as they drifted down the small of her back to the top curve of her butt. Hesitantly, her hand rested on his chest. Another confused moan escaped her, louder than before.

  Wolfe stopped, aching as he drew his mouth away from the willing woman in his arms. As his vision cleared, he saw her rounded eyes staring openly in astonishment. Robert’s words came back to him. “Now, try and deny it.”

  Ginevra gasped in shock. Lifting her hand, she tried to slap him. He caught her wrist easily and threw it to the side.

  Wolfe shook her as he would a disobedient child. His eyes turned dispassionate as he studied her and he knew she didn’t understand the look that filtered through his dark gaze. He considered her carefully. “It’s too late for you to be out. Get you to bed, bride.”

  “Don’t treat me as a child!” Ginevra huffed as he let her go. Wrinkling her nose, she stomped off to her chamber. Wolfe let her run, watching her back until she was safely inside.

  Taking a lungful of the night air, he turned to the full moon and sighed wearily as he placed his palms on the battlement. Looking down, he couldn’t see the darkened ground beneath him. But his eyes didn’t search for the ground, they burned with the image of Ginevra’s glorious hair as it flew in the wind and the flash of her frolicsome emerald eyes--eyes which would someday belong to a beautiful woman.

  But she’s not a woman. She is an overindulged child and you cannot touch her! Wolfe slammed his fist into the stone, berating himself for his weakness, for his desires. And, in his torment, all he could think was that her hair hadn’t been purple.

  Chapter Four

  The morning brought with it a pleasing glow. The sun gave off radiant warmth that swept about the courtyard on the whims of the cooler breeze. Clouds, white and as puffy as freshly sheared wool, dotted the clear blue heavens. Excitement flowed through the veins of the fortress. Servants bustled about, decorating the main hall under the direction of Lady Isabella. The earl, leaving the details to the women, took his two sons, the baron and Robert riding with him outside the gates of the castle.

  Wolfe was glad for an excuse to get away from the onslaught of the frantic day, and was even more pleased when his father, with a sly toss of his head, produced a satchel full of food so that they shouldn’t have a need to go back until the late afternoon to greet a few guests.

  Ignoring the blanket and silver dining set that Lady Jayne thoughtfully ordered packed along with the meal, the men ate atop their horses while surveying the land. Drawing out the daggers from their waist to cut the hunk of cheese, they laughed like naughty children, knowing that the ladies would be appalled by their manners.

  Ginevra didn’t see her bridegroom, and she certainly didn’t have time to dwell on her anger, as she was swept into the enthusiasm of her wedding day. She was washed and scrubbed until her skin glowed with a rosy hue and she was scented with lavender oils until her nostrils puckered in protest. Then, Lora began the tedious process of plaiting her hair into curls, one long length at a time.

  Finally, as the afternoon wore on, she was helped to dress in a gown of shimmering white silk and gauze. The sleek bodice fitted tight against her small breasts, flowing out with gossamer overlay to form a sweeping skirt. A train draped behind. The sleeves were fitted at the shoulders to mimic the waist. They flowed out over her forearm in a wide arch to the floor. Along her wrists were the exposed sleeves of her fitted chemise.

  Lora rolled the sides of her hair to rest on the crown of her head so that curls cascaded down her back to her narrow waist. A thick, flared headband of gold was set atop the curls like a crown. Smiling in awe over her reflection, Ginevra shook her head in wonderment.

  “Ye look like a princess, m’lady,” Lora whispered.

  Nervous, Ginevra let out a long, slow breath. Then, seeing the maidservant watching her face closely, she forced a smile. “You did wonderful, Lora. I feel like a princess.”

  The maidservant nodded, pleased with her work. Taking her leave, she quietly left the room.

  Ginevra waited for the door to close before moving. Her fingers shook as she lightly ran them over a soft curl that lay against her cheek. Tears of uncertainty filled her eyes. She took a deep breath, but didn’t cry.

  “Oh, splendid, you’re ready,” Lady Jayne said from the doorway. Ginevra jumped, not having heard her come in. Seeing her daughter’s wet gaze, the baroness frowned in mild concern. “What is it Ginevra?”

  Ginevra shrugged helplessly, unable to explain her feelings. Her lips trembled, but no sound came from her throat. She turned back to the mirror with a sniff.

  “Oh, I think I know.” Lady Jayne nodded her head with a look of wisdom. She came up to her daughter and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Lowering her voice, she said, “You’re worried about tonight.”

  Ginevra froze. Carefully, she nodded her head. Then, hesitating, she admitted softly, “I don’t think this marriage is a good idea. Mayhap I shouldn’t do it.”

  As soon as the words were spoken, Lady Jayne’s expression became hard. Her frown deepened into a scowl of horror. Needlessly, she looked behind her to make sure they were alone. After confirming that no one had heard Ginevra’s traitorous words, she turned with a hiss resounding between her teeth. “Being nervous of the wedding night, Ginevra, is normal. But breaking a sacred betrothal agreement because of it is preposterous. To even think such a thing is blasphemy. It was sworn afore God that you would marry Lord Wolfram when you became of age! And that is what you must do.”

  “But I didn’t make that agreement,” she protested weakly, unable to look Lady Jayne in the eye.

  “It was never yours to make--only to honor. Now, you have been given the blessing of many years to accustom yourself to him. Not like when I married your father. I found out only a fortnight afore I wed with him.” Lady Jayne took a deep breath of maternal patience. “I will admit, Lord Wolfram is a--oh, how can I put this? He is a large looking man, very forceful in nature and...”

  Ginevra studied her mother. Lady Jayne’s voice trailed off into a weakened hum of embarrassment. Silently, she willed the woman to continue. When she didn’t, Ginevra prompted, “But what if he has another woman here?”

  “What?” Lady Jayne shook her head in disapproval and, with much obvious effort, the baroness suffered the impropriety of her daughter’s question. She bounced her flattened palms over the sides of her dress. Her lips tightened. “Ginevra, it’s time you understood the way of things and put up any childish ideals you may still harbor. Marriage has naught to do with a man’s fidelity. And fidelity has naught to do with any respect or loyalty due to a wife. Husbands might go to another woman’s arms, and you should be so lucky if they do, but they don’t marry those women. Servant and peasant women are not built as we are. They’re--uh--blessed, or unblessed if you will, with certain unladylike qualities that allow them to accept a man’s ardent attentions. True noblewomen of birth, as we are, don’t have those sorts of unrefined impulses. As God inten
ded, we’re bred above such things. Our husbands couple with us to produce heirs. They couple with baser women to fulfill that desire which makes them men. Without those manly desires, there would be no one to protect us for men would turn into women and the whole lot of us would be lost. So, understand, that when Wolfram takes a mistress he does not mean to slight you but to honor you.”

  Ginevra didn’t speak.

  “Your father has had many mistresses over the years and I’ve never minded--” Lady Jayne stopped talking when she witnessed the horror on her daughter’s face. Her tone became harsh, as she scolded, “Don’t look at me with such pity, girl! I welcome him to them. I only tell you of it because you are soon to be a wife. I’m trying to help you understand the way of things. My mother, bless her, never explained the ways of husbands to me. I had to learn for myself and I’d save you the pain of such slow discovery.”

  Ginevra nodded. She tried to hide her distaste and failed. She couldn’t imagine feeling the cold indifference her mother expressed.

  I must not be a lady at all, Ginevra reasoned, for I like all the things my mother always professes to be above. And if it’s so, then I will surly perish if Wolfe were to go to another.

  “Besides, Lord Wolfram is a fine nobleman. His father trained him well. He’ll not beget unwanted children with his mistresses and he won’t flaunt his mistresses in front of you. If you’re smart, which I know you are Ginevra, you’ll ignore the little signs. Getting upset by it only makes you look foolish and shrewish. It dishonors not only yourself but your husband and family.” Lady Jayne cleared her throat, smiling kindly as she brushed her daughter’s curly hair over her shoulder. She appeared to relax as the words were finally said and could now be forgotten. Touching Ginevra’s pale cheek, she soothingly whispered, “Focus on what matters, Ginevra. Your father and I have done very well by you. I mean, look at this chamber! You’re rich and will be titled in time. If you act like a lady and don’t displease your husband, he might even come to care for you. Then you will be given anything your heart desires--jewels, clothing, a new piece of furniture.”

  But that isn’t what my heart wants. It’s your desires you speak of, mother.

  Ginevra nodded again, not daring to lay voice to her thoughts. Her eyes closed briefly. Without looking, she asked, “It’s time?”

  “Oh,” her mother frowned and ignored Ginevra’s pointed gaze by reaching to rub the back of her neck.

  “Is aught amiss?” Ginevra stood. Turning carefully as not to upset her hair, she studied her mother’s tightly drawn features. The baroness looked more put out than usual.

  “Well, it’s just that the men,” Lady Jayne began, her eye still averted. Turning around, her mother went to the cushioned chair to pick up a bouquet of flowers. Handing the brightly colored wildflowers to her daughter, she said, “They went riding this morn and have yet to get back.”

  Ginevra quickly moved to the window where the sun was already beginning to fall below the edge of the earth. “But, it’s sunset. I thought he would be belowstairs waiting for me.”

  “I know, dear. I’ve been sent to collect you and bring you to the hall. As soon as he arrives he’ll take you with him to the chapel.” Lady Jayne shot her an encouraging expression, as she waved toward the door. “It’s only a small delay, Ginevra. Your father keeps me waiting plenty of times. It’s also the way of men.”

  “I don’t want to go down. What if he doesn’t come? I can’t stand down there alone.” Ginevra backed up, refusing to leave. Touching the pearl necklace on her throat, she shook her head. “Everyone will be staring at me in pity.”

  “Oh, of course he’ll come. I wager he’ll have a good excuse, too. Don’t make a fuss of it. Show him how gracious you are and forgive him for it.” Lady Jayne went to her daughter and grabbed her arm. Dragging Ginevra to the door by gentle force of will, she said, “And you won’t be alone. I’ll sit with you at the head table until he arrives. I promise.”

  Ginevra sat unmoving as she shifted her eyes over the heads of the gathered hall. She pasted another false smile to her lips as a knight caught her eye from the lower tables. A brightly adorned acrobat flipped across the floor drawing the man’s attention away from her solitary figure in the white wedding gown. Ginevra shivered, refusing to partake of the ale that flowed so freely about the hall and earlier she’d refused a trencher of meat. Her stomach growled with hunger because of it.

  She was alone at the head table, watching dispassionately as her mother helped Lady Isabella direct the servants. Leaning forward, she grabbed the last yellow flower from her bouquet and began pulling the petals from the delicate bud. She added them to her already growing pile of discarded beauty. Taking a deep breath, she caught the eye of a servant in the back of the hall. The buxom maid smiled gleefully at her until Ginevra shook at the open hostility in the woman’s eyes. She blinked before squinting to see the woman better, but the servant disappeared into the crowd.

  Music filled the hall with a lively beat, only to be drowned out by the vivacious celebrating. The feast had been devoured and long since cleared. Ginevra kept tears at bay as a couple got up to dance. Soon several others joined them in drunken bliss. Finishing her destruction of the last flower, she looked out the open archway and saw the dark sky sprinkled with taunting stars. They glittered at her like crystal tears, tears she didn’t dare to weep with so many onlookers present.

  She’d waited for Wolfe for hours. At first, she prayed he would come, even willing him with her mind to walk through the archway and relieve her from her isolated perch. And it wasn’t only him who was missing--it was the earl and Robert and her father and William. They were all gone.

  When at last she could take no more of the pitying glances and questioning looks, she stood. She wanted to run to her chamber and hide. Her chin lifted into the air. Several men stopped talking to take notice of her regal hauteur and composed face. But, before she could step down the platform, a loud singing boomed in from outside. Her eyes turned in widened horror to the archway. The sound grew louder until, with a burst of merriment, her father shot through the open door with wide spread arms.

  He didn’t stop singing as the earl, swaying drunkenly on his feet, followed in behind him. Next was William, belting the words to the same ribald tune with wavering harmony. A man she didn’t know followed immediately behind William. And finally, Wolfe stumbled in, supported by the arm of her brother. The men ended their song with a great crescendo that drowned out the playing musicians. The hall cheered in merriment and the group bowed gallantly for their applause.

  Ginevra stood still, feeling the gut wrenching pain roll over her. Tears threatened her eyes and burned her nose. If the singing wasn’t insulting enough, their clothes were caked with mud and grime. She even detected a bit of blood on Wolfe’s sword as it hung from his side. Her knees buckled, unable to support her as she sank wearily into her seat. She felt so alone.

  “Where have you been?” Ginevra saw more than heard her mother’s heated whisper, as she went to collect the baron.

  The baron laughed. Turning his head to the earl, he boasted, “I think we are definitely late, m’lord.”

  The men burst into laughter. The baron broke through his wife’s blockade and headed for a nearby table to swipe a goblet of ale from a knight’s hand. The earl laughed harder falling back into his youngest son. William caught him easily and righted him to standing. The baroness huffed and chased down her wayward husband.

  Ginevra watched them in quiet shock, as the blood continued to drain from her features. The skin pulled tautly against her cheekbones. Suddenly, she caught her brother’s wavering gaze. His smile faded at once into a remorseful frown. He dropped Wolfe’s arm and stumbled forward. Slowly, Ginevra forced herself to stand. She stepped around the edge of the table and looked down at him from the top of the platform.

  Stumbling up to the table, he said drunkenly, “Gin, we can explain. We have good reason.”

  Ginevra’s muscles stiffened. She
didn’t hear Robert through the heavy pounding of her heart. Her eyes met and locked with her bridegroom’s. The pleasure faded from Wolfe’s features. He bowed to her stiffly, his very movement mocking everyone around them. His insult was like a slap to the face. Surprisingly, he walked forward. All enjoyment was gone from his gaze. Pain passed over his features before his features drew into a blank, unemotional mask.

  Mud splattered him, marring his chiseled expression. His piercing gaze traveled over her pristine gown only to end up on her face. Ginevra was unsure of the unfamiliar feelings that assaulted her body and sent her limbs to shaking.

  “M’lady.” Wolfe bowed with a hint of ridicule before stepping close to her. He stopped on the stair beneath her so that their faces were level. She could see the liquor swimming in his eyes as he tried in vain to control it. Curtly, she nodded at him. When she didn’t speak, he said, “I believe we have a wedding to attend to.”

  Ginevra didn’t answer, as she continued her frigid stare.

  Leaning forward, he took up her elbow and whispered hotly into her ear, “Lest you want me to seal the bargain again--this time in front of ample witnesses.”

  When Wolfe pulled back, she’d lost her composure. His eyes trailed down to her gown prompting her to look. It was now stained with mud where he’d touched her. When she looked back up, he raised an expectant brow and placed his hand on the hard wood surface of the table, trapping her from the side. Slowly, his lips swayed forward to claim hers. She turned away, knowing she couldn’t handle another one of his kisses.

  “That won’t be necessary, m’lord,” she grumbled so only he could hear. “Let us get this farce over with. It has been a long eve and I wish to retire.”

  A wry smile curled on one side of his mouth. He studied her for a long moment. Ginevra glared past his shoulder to the crowd, aware of their curious eyes. When she refused to say more, Wolfe pulled away. His tone low and husky, he whispered, “Come forward my pink-cheeked bride and claim you a husband.”