Lord of Hearts

by Gillgannon, Mary

  Chapter Ten

  Gerard halted at the entrance to the hall. By the saints, who was that woman at the high table? His wife? But why was she wearing a veil? Marared turned and smiled, completely befuddling him. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been furious and calling him names.

  He went to his place and sat down. “Good even, madam.”

  “Good even, milord.”

  A servant came by with wine. Gerard motioned to his cup. He took a drink before hazarding a glance at his wife. With her exuberant red-gold curls tamed and covered, she looked young and vulnerable. Nothing like the flushed, wild-eyed woman who’d responded so passionately to his lovemaking only a few hours go.

  He almost wondered if he’d imagined the events in the bedchamber. But his body had no doubts. Every inch of him still hummed with pleasure deeply satisfied.

  He tried to think of some polite and mindless topic of conversation. But he had no idea what might set her off. His jaw clenched as he remembered her calling him a bastard. Did she know the truth about his past? Or was it simply a random insult?

  He still had no idea why she’d been so angry. She’d wanted him to make love with her. Her ardent response proved it. Sweet Jesu, he could not understand this woman. Somehow, he must figure her out…before she destroyed his sanity entirely.

  “Milord, I have a favor to ask.”

  Her meek tone jarred. He looked at her. Her expression remained bland and innocent. “Go on.”

  She gave him a nervous smile. “I’m certain you know that I’ve been…ah…lonely here. I thought perhaps if I met with someone from my home, it would lighten my mood.”

  “That’s why I suggested you bring a maid or companion.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Only for a second, but enough to reveal that underneath the veneer of ladylike tranquility she was still wroth.

  He spoke crisply. “If you’ve changed your mind and now wish to have someone from your homeland visit, or even reside here, I have no objection. Tomorrow we can send an escort for them.”

  “I don’t…that isn’t what I wish. I merely wanted to see a friendly face for a brief time. I thought I could arrange to meet my cousin Aoife at Abergavenny. If you take the valley route, it lies halfway between Tangwyl and Caer Brynfawr.”

  “I don’t see why Aoife can’t come here. ’Tis not that much farther. Then you could have more time with her. She could go riding with you. With a proper escort, of course.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Her voice rose in pitch. “I only need to see her and…find out how things are at home. That is, at Caer Brynfawr.”

  She sought to pretend she was getting used to living at Tangwyl and coming to accept her circumstances. It was obvious she was lying. At least about that. The part about being lonely was likely true. She spent hours by herself, showing no inclination to share the company of her maid, or any of the other women in the household. Which made it even odder she would be satisfied with such a brief visit with her cousin.

  A servant brought bowls of mutton stew. Gerard took a couple of bites, “I don’t understand. Why can’t Aoife come here?”

  Marared pushed her bowl of stew away, as if she was too agitated to eat. “She could. But I don’t think it would be right to ask it of her. She’s enamored of a man who lives at Caer Brynfawr. I don’t want to insist she leave him.”

  “What about you going to back to Caer Brynfawr for a brief visit?”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea. It might make me more homesick.”

  Probably true. But still…he couldn’t overcome his suspicion she was manipulating him. That this request was part of some scheme to escape from the marriage.

  He met her gaze with a steady, assessing look. “When do you propose to make this journey to Abergavenny?”

  “’Twill have to be arranged. A message sent to Caer Brynfawr. If someone left tomorrow, Aoife could meet me the day after.”

  “I doubt the priory has overnight accommodations for female guests. You would only have an hour or two with Aoife before you would have to make the journey back. Are you certain you will be satisfied with such a short time with her?”

  “’Twill be enough simply to see her face. And an hour or so to catch up on the news.” A hard tone came into her voice. “Naught has happened here that is worth mentioning. I doubt it’s much different at Caer Brynfawr.”

  Her dismissal of their lovemaking turned his growing wariness to anger. He took a drink of his wine. Obviously, naught worth mentioning has happened here. Except that I loved you well and made you scream with pleasure.

  She seemed to sense his irritation. Her voice softened. “Aoife and I are close, but I don’t confide everything to her. I’m certain we will speak mostly of trivial things, gossip about the household and news about how the lambing went. Things like that. One of the dogs, Taffy, was expecting puppies when I left. I want to know how many she had and what sex they are.”

  Gerard recalled the huge, hairy dogs he’d seen prowling around Caer Brynfawr. Wolfhounds from Ireland, he was told they were. “Your father’s dogs are fine beasts. ’Twould be good to have one of them at Tangwyl. Perhaps later this summer Caradoc could be convinced to part with one of the puppies. The dog could be a companion for you, as well as protection when hunting.” He met her gaze, wondering how she would react.

  Her forehead creased. “I had not thought that far ahead.”

  ’Tis clear you hope to be free of this place by then. He went back to his stew and ate steadily. She fidgeted beside him, then finally pulled her bowl closer and began to eat.

  Why did she want to see Aoife so badly, and yet not desire her to visit? Did she need Aoife’s help with something, and that something required Aoife to return to Caer Brynfawr? But what could that something be? What was she plotting?

  Marared pushed her bowl away again and sighed. “So, will you do it? Send a messenger?”

  “I will. On the morrow.”

  That seemed to satisfy her, and she resumed eating. Gerard finished his stew and ate some bread. Marared remained quiet. He was not surprised when a short while later, she again pushed the bowl away and rose. “Milord, if I could beg leave of you.”

  “Of course.”

  He watched her rise from table and proceed gracefully across the hall. All at once, his appetite deserted him. The intimacy they’d shared should have brought them closer. But he had no more idea what went on in his wife’s head than he ever had.

  It seemed incredible she could seem so unmoved by their lovemaking. The Church taught that women were the weaker sex, and more susceptible to temptations of the flesh. In that regard, as in many other ways, his wife was not like most women. The blissful joining of their bodies had not affected her.

  Unfortunately, their lovemaking had affected him. He’d already been half in love with Marared. Making love to her had sealed his fate.

  He frowned at the remnants of his meal. When he was very young, he’d learned to keep a tight rein on his emotions. He was careful not to allow anything to interfere with his goal of being a successful and respected knight. Someone worthy of the pride of his long dead parents. But then he was wed to Marared, and the solid foundation he’d built his life on began to crumble. He could feel it slipping away, like a coastline undermined by the relentless force of the sea. It was extremely unsettling. The way he felt about Marared gave her far too much power over him.

  But what could he do? He seemed to be helpless before his yearning for her. No matter how he tried not to, he longed for her regard. Conquering her body and winning her maidenhead wasn’t enough. Especially since the act seemed to mean so little to her. She still saw him as beneath her, a pawn to manipulate. Her actions this evening made that clear.

  The seneschal, Dunstan, appeared beside him. “Milord, we spoke of going over the accounts tomorrow.”

  Gerard motioned impatiently. “We will do that, of course. But for now there is another matter I wish to discuss. I need to send a message to Caer B
rynfawr to a Lady Aoife. Who would you suggest for the task?”

  “Lady Aoife? Not Lord Caradoc?”

  “’Tis a message from my wife to her cousin. The messenger must be someone who knows how to get to the fortress, but does not have close ties to the household. Someone trustworthy. And, of course, I will need Father Anselm to write the message.”

  “I believe Lady Marared knows how to read and write. She said something to that effect when I was showing her the tally sticks and tax accounts.”

  “Then I will need someone who can read Welsh.”

  “Milord?”

  Gerard gave the seneschal an exasperated look. “So I can know exactly what she’s written.”

  “Of course, milord.”

  His wife could read and write. Few women had the skill. Caradoc clearly considered his daughter’s education to be as important as that of his sons. The Welsh outlook was very odd. They treated all their sons as their heirs, gave women alarming amounts of authority and freedom, and made little of the difference between lord and commoner. Their leaders appeared to gain their status not from their titles, but from the respect they earned from those who served them.

  Of course, now that he thought of it, the situation was not that different from how things were at his overlord’s castle. Fawkes de Cressy had started out as a squire and ended up a lord. His wife, Lady Nicola, not only ran the household, but exerted a great deal of authority in other matters. And she could read and write, while Fawkes had only begun to learn the skill.

  But Lady Nicola was cool-headed and shrewd. Nothing like his flighty, mercurial wife. And she loved Fawkes and was intensely loyal to him. While his wife…Gerard’s insides twisted, the rich stew roiling in his belly. He found his wife fascinating, endlessly compelling. But he did not trust her for a moment.

  *

  She’d done it! He’d agreed! Marared’s body throbbed with excitement as she hurried to the bedchamber. It would be so good to see Aoife again. To have someone with whom she could talk freely. Not that she intended to tell Aoife about letting Malmsbury consummate the marriage. Her cousin didn’t need to know about that. No one did.

  A flash of shame swept her. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed Malmsbury to do those things to her. To kiss and caress her. To use his mouth to make her so aroused she was helpless to push him away when he…she gasped as she remembered the feel of his body inside hers. Sudden pain, followed by spectacular pleasure. She sought to recall the pain, but the memory of all the other magical sensations blotted it out. Even now her body pulsed with delicious yearning. The whole time she’d been in the hall, speaking to Malmsbury, her body had been screaming at her: Nay, I don’t want food. I want him!

  His hard flesh inside her. His arms wrapped around her body. His lips nuzzling and probing hers. Blessed Mary, it was appalling! How could her body betray her like that? What sorcery did he know that he was able to guess exactly the means to render her helpless?

  All the more reason she must do this. Find a way to get him to give up on the marriage and send her back to her father. She had to make this scheme work. She had to!

  Marared let herself into the bedchamber and hesitated. Her plan was underway. But what was she to do in the meantime? It would be several days before the meeting could be arranged, and having bedded her once, Malmsbury would expect to do so again. She could not let that happen.

  She glanced around the cozy room, lit with the golden glow of late sunshine. Why had she come back here? She should have gone to the garden, where everything didn’t remind her of the shocking things she’d done with Malmsbury.

  She turned and left. On the way down the stairs, a solution came to her. She would tell Malmsbury her courses had come. She could have Edith convey the information to him. Surely that was part of the duties of a lady’s maid. She hurried to the kitchen, thinking the young serving woman might be there.

  *

  Gerard walked slowly back from the barracks, still puzzling on his wife’s request. He’d done as she asked. A message would be sent to Caer Brynfawr in the morning. But a half-dozen questions haunted his thoughts. Questions he could not ask Marared, lest he risked breaking the fragile peace between them. He’d gained some ground with her and he didn’t want to lose that. Because he wanted her to let him make love to her again. He longed to explore her sensual beauty in a more leisurely fashion.

  The thought of it made him almost dizzy with arousal. As if he was under some kind of spell. His wife bewitched him. Around her, all his sensible, practical thoughts deserted him. There were many things to arrange for the trip to Abergavenny, but he couldn’t focus on any of them. His world had narrowed down to the bedchamber, his wife, what their bodies had already shared, and what they might do in bed tonight.

  He’d never understood men who let their cock run their life and guide their decisions. And now here he was, in thrall to his wife and willing to endure all sorts of insults from her, as long as she allowed him near. As long as she let him kiss and caress and make love to her.

  He entered the hall and started for the stairs. Young Edith hurried toward him, her youthful features etched with a frown. “Milord, if I could speak with you a moment.”

  He halted. “Of course.”

  She paused and took a deep breath, looked at him and then looked away. “Milord, I…I must tell you something.”

  He went rigid. What now? “Go on.”

  “I…I…” She swallowed. “’Tis very awkward.”

  Awkward. So, not something life and death. He relaxed fractionally. Biting back his impatience, he nodded encouragingly.

  Her eyes were downcast. “Milady asked to tell you that her…her courses have come. So she…that is…” She hazarded a quick glance at him. “She would prefer you did not share the bedchamber with her for a few days.”

  Was this normal? Something any gentlewoman might ask of her husband? He had no idea. “I must fetch a few things.” He gestured toward the stairs. “I promise I won’t disturb her.” The saints save him. Here he was, placating a servant because he feared to displease his wife.

  He strode up the stairs. She’d gone too far this time. Sending a servant to convey her wishes. Sending a servant to tell him what he must do. He was lord here, and he would decide where he slept!

  His temper was still high when he reached the solar. She stood by the window, as if soaking in the last of the fading light. “Madam.” He spoke sternly.

  She turned, her expression wary. “Did Edith…did she…?”

  “She did.” He watched her face, wondering if she would start hurling insults at him. It didn’t matter. “We are man and wife, bound together by God and law. If you have something you wish to speak to me about, something that concerns matters between us, you will not send a servant with a message. You will come to me yourself.”

  She stared at him, green eyes wide. Mayhaps this is what he should have done from the beginning. Instead of trying to appease her, he should have insisted she do what he wished.

  She broke off her gaze. “I was only thinking…I thought you would want to…”

  “Want to what? I’m not going to be banished from my own bedchamber for several days every month.” He studied her face, trying to understand her motivation. Was it possible she was truly embarrassed? Was that her real reason for avoiding him?

  She nodded. “You’re right, of course. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” She gave him a swift, sudden smile. “I’ve never been married before.”

  She looked so lovely. So desirable. Maybe it would be better for them to sleep separately. Did he truly want to be this close to her and know they could not make love? It might actually benefit him to heed her request. Some time apart might help restore his reason, and sort out the contradictory messages of her behavior.

  But where the devil was he supposed to sleep? He didn’t want to return to sleeping on a pallet on the floor. He’d made love with her on the bed, and having experienced that intimacy, he wasn’t going to give it up. “
Whatever it is that’s troubling you, you’ll have to get over it. You’re a married woman now. There will be other awkward things we must deal with.”

  Her auburn brows drew together, and her dazzling green eyes turned cold. The transformation from demure maid to fiery vixen was so swift, he felt like he’d been kicked in the belly. This was the real Marared; the other one was all pretense. She feigned shyness and uncertainty when it suited her. When she thought it would soften him up and make him feel sorry for her.

  For weeks he’d endured her insults and flashes of temper. He’d let her have way in almost everything she asked, deferring to her tender female sensibilities. Indeed, there were many times he’d actually felt sorry for her. Poor Marared. Torn from her home and family. Wed to a man she doesn’t know. Surrounded by strangers. But all she’d done with his sympathy and kindness was use it against him. Manipulating him. Making him into a witless dolt who would do anything to please her.

  He strode across the room. She shrank back against the window-lined embrasure, all her haughty resentment gone. He seized her slender shoulders and glared down at her. “I am your husband. You will not give me orders nor dispute my wishes. You will behave as a proper gentlewoman and give me the respect I am due.”

  She swallowed and nodded. A tremor passed through her, and her normally rosy skin lost color. This time her meekness wasn’t feigned. She truly was afraid of him.

  He released her and stepped back, shocked by what he’d done. Laying hands on his wife. Making her think he might strike her. What was wrong with him? What had happened to his self-control? He took a deep breath, wrestling with his seething emotions. His sudden fury was gone, replaced by unease. Why was everything different with this woman? What did she do to make him into a raging madman?

  With effort, he regained his composure. His first instinct was to apologize, but then he thought better of it. Maybe this was what it took to get this woman to respect him. She hadn’t let him bed her until he’d lost all restraint. Now that she’d seen he could get angry, she might stop trying to manipulate him.