by Ruth Kaufman
God help him, he felt those things too. He wasn’t prepared for the impact of her beauty combined with the pleasure of shared emotions. Nor had he anticipated the way the unexpected bond they shared drew him to her against his will. His hands smoothed over her shoulders and enticed her near until their bodies almost touched. Her intriguing scent of roses wove around him. Her face was mere inches from his, her soft lips enticing. Anticipation tugged at his groin as her breath caressed his neck. But he held back, needing her answer first.
“Well?”
“Yes,” she breathed softly.
‘Yes’ to his kiss or to marriage? No matter, for he’d have both. Adrian bent toward her, his mouth hovering above hers. Her lips parted slightly, revealing the tip of her tempting tongue. Desire unfurled inside him.
No. If he kissed her now, acted as though he cared for her, she might expect a closer relationship than he could afford to give. Adrian clamped down the longing to taste her.
“Good.” He released Joanna. She turned away, leaving him feeling strangely empty. “We shall marry, but only if you agree to my conditions.”
She inclined her head gracefully, sending shimmering ringlets cascading over her shoulders. You’ll get to touch them once you marry her.
He’d touch every damn one of them. Often.
“I expected no less,” she said, her expression annoyingly blank. “You’ve heard mine.”
This impersonal discussion about such an important relationship grated on his nerves. Did it bother her, too? He wouldn’t care what she thought, or what she wanted. Not at all.
“Yes. I remember your stipulations: you’ll provide children and gold when possible.
A pained expression crossed her face. “That gold might take longer to earn than I’d thought.” She explained what had happened with the guild.
Guilt hit him. She’d confided in him. He didn’t dare reciprocate. What were the chances she’d accept him? Even if she did, she’d be more likely to join him at the stake if she had knowledge of his Sight. He was weaving a web stickier than a spider’s, but he couldn’t think of a better plan.
“I’ll support you in your craft as needed. Starting tomorrow, we’ll figure out how restore your guild membership,” he said. They had more in common than he’d thought…both needing to reclaim what was most important. “We’ll write down every word and sign our agreement. So neither of us forgets his or her obligations,” he said. “Here are my conditions. One: we agree that this marriage is a business, like your glass-painting or any other. We’ll conduct ourselves accordingly. Conversations of a personal nature will be kept to a minimum.
“Two: aside from agreed upon commitments, no additional time together will be required or requested.” Adrian swallowed. Laying out the restrictions he’d decided upon was harder than he’d thought. “Three: we’ll keep separate rooms. I will visit yours when I wish.”
Adrian watched closely for her reactions to his demands. The first two passed by without even a flicker of an eyebrow. At the third, she dropped her hands in her lap and looked down at them. Was she saddened or gladdened? He’d heard that some women despised physical intimacy. Was she one of them, or would she wish to share a bed with her husband? With him?
Adrian wished he hadn’t had to add that dictatorial condition. Just speaking the words made his stomach roil. But he couldn’t allow her to spend too much time with him. Her glass-painting needs and his need for children would put him at enough risk. He had to have some means of controlling any other contact.
Or they’d both suffer the consequences.
Joanna stared at her paint-stained hands, keeping her expressive eyes from his view. “I agree. Write the terms down.”
Her voice sounded flat, as though he’d beaten the life out of it. Is this what marrying him would do to her?
She gathered parchment, pen and ink and handed them over without looking up. He sat on a stool next to her well-polished counter and started to write.
As Joanna watched Adrian draw up their agreement, their marriage contract, an unsettling mixture of joy and frustration filled her. Though a bit more warmth from Adrian would be appreciated, she had no right to expect it. She was enormously curious about the reasons behind his haste and his conditions, far more stringent than she’d planned when she first brought up the idea.
Yet far better this way, she reassured herself. An impersonal marriage would prove best for her too. She’d get exactly what she wanted: a strong man who’d work with her but wouldn’t try to control her or her plans for the studio. So why had she felt a rush of dismay when he demanded separate rooms? All she needed was a husband’s security, the presence of a man to uphold and protect her craft. His love wasn’t required.
She knew what happened to people in love.
If she allowed herself to care too much for Adrian, she’d think of him, what he was doing and if he was safe, and be unable concentrate on her windows. She’d want to be with him. All these things had happened when she’d been infatuated with Henry, the eldest son of one of her father’s best clients. Weeks had passed while she fantasized about marrying him, with barely a design completed. But he married someone else. And her heart smashed into painful shards, like broken glass.
Wasn’t it bad enough that she was attracted to Adrian? That her thoughts already strayed to him far too often? I could watch him for hours. She admired his distinctive profile. His hair fell forward as he wrote. The pen scratched its way across the page, revealing his strong script.
She’d been honest with him, but sensed Adrian kept much from her. She wanted to know him, to unearth the truths he didn’t wish to share. There’d be time for that once they were wed, despite his unpleasant conditions. He couldn’t keep his secrets forever.
“’Tis done.” Adrian pushed the completed document across the counter and held out the pen. “Sign.”
Joanna took the contract and reviewed his words, praying that her face didn’t reveal her thoughts. She would have her marriage, but if they followed the precepts of their agreement, it would be a cold and lifeless one.
She read the last sentence out loud. “Should either person violate this agreement, the other has the right to end the marriage.”
The statement hung in the air. At least she had just as much right to get out as he. The fact that most of the conditions applied to both of them boded well for a fair and equal marriage, didn’t it? She glanced up at Adrian for reassurance, but his face was cold and hard. The quill felt heavy in her hand.
Yes, she needed to marry Adrian. She wanted to, for no man intrigued her the way he did. Yet how could she sign this restrictive document and relegate herself to such an impersonal existence? Though preferable to the servitude she’d have suffered had she married a fellow glazier, and far better than the misery John Twygge would’ve brought her, part of her knew all that Adrian offered was still not enough.
Why should she settle? She’d hoped they could at least be friends, with the possibility of closeness developing over time. Spouses didn’t have to be in love to be close. The forbidding terms of this contract relegated their relationship to working partners.
With another man, such bland fare might suffice. Adrian could offer a more sumptuous feast, if only he would. Just moments ago, she’d been sure he was going to kiss her. But even as she lifted her lips to his, as she savored standing so close with the warmth of his hands on her shoulders, he’d turned away. He left her wanting more.
Is that how she’d spend the rest of her days if she married him?
Maybe she could use his need to marry as leverage with which to lessen the severity of his provisions. Would he make a few changes if she asked him to? She and Margery often negotiated with clients. Joanna opened her mouth, but before she could say one word, he pounded his fist on the table, making her jump.
“No. Do not even think it,” he bit out. “Not one word will be altered. Accept what is before you or I will burn the page and we will be as we were. No marriage.”
/>
He looked harsh with his thick black brows drawn together and lines of determination marking either side of his mouth. A vein pulsed on his neck. Underneath his stern expression she thought she detected a hint of desperation. He needed this as much as she did.
Joanna stared at the document. The quill hovered above the page for what seemed like an eternity, ink drying on the tip. She slowly dipped it in the inkpot. The room was so quiet she could hear each beat of her heart.
Was she consigning herself to another form of misery, subjecting herself to Adrian’s whims? What would she do if she didn’t sign? She couldn’t leave herself exposed to John Twygge, who with her brother would ruin everything she had worked for, the workshop that had meant so much to her father and to her. What would her life be without her guild membership? How could she bear losing the studio to her brother?
All that mattered was her safety, her reputation and the peaceful, profitable continuation of her glass-painting. She couldn’t afford to be concerned with feelings or emotions.
They were not for her.
Joanna signed.
Later that morning, Joanna broached the news to Margery as they broke their fast.
Margery froze, a morsel of brown bread smeared with jam halfway to her mouth. “What? Surely I didn’t hear you aright.”
“I’m getting married,” she repeated. “As soon as the banns can be read.”
“Ha. You don’t know anyone worth marrying.” Margery popped the bread into her mouth and reached for more.
“I do so. I met him last week.”
Even to her own ears her words sounded silly, and she felt childish having to defend herself. She didn’t need Margery’s approval. She had made the right decision.
“The model?”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell Margery the whole truth, so she limited her tale about Adrian to the basic facts.
When she finished, Margery’s mouth hung open. “You agreed to marry a man after two conversations? Just because he saved you from John? Or was it love at first sight? I don’t believe you.”
She bit off more bread. Joanna watched Margery eat, but she had no appetite.
“Our marriage will be better than an arranged one where the parents choose the spouse and the bride and groom don’t have a say in who they wed. We have agreed to marry.”
Ours. We. For the instant it took her to say the words, she imagined they were a couple. But they weren’t. At least they would be a team.
“You’re truly going to marry this man.” Margery stood, abandoning her food. “Joanna, what are you thinking? I know you want to be free of John Twygge and his threats, but you act too hastily!”
“Thank you for your felicitations.” Joanna hid her disappointment. She’d counted on Margery’s support.
“Where will you live?”
“His quarters are nearby.”
“You’ve seen them already?”
Joanna wouldn’t tell Margery about his rooms, for even she had found them small and unappealing when Adrian had shown them to her after they signed their agreement.
Margery would be appalled at the thought of living in such conditions: worn furniture topped with threadbare pillows, only a single wall hanging to brighten the space and keep out the chill. No kitchen. Two rooms contained a narrow bed and not much else. Her curiosity almost forced her to ask if anyone else had shared his quarters, but she wouldn’t violate the terms of their agreement. She would believe that as their marriage progressed, so would their fortunes. And their bond.
“How am I to afford our rooms by myself?” Margery demanded.
Joanna sighed. “I’ll have to keep my workshop here. So I’ll continue to pay my share of the rent.”
“You work all hours of the day, whenever the mood strikes. You can’t be wandering the streets alone to come here when you can’t sleep or have a deadline.” Margery tilted her head and looked shrewdly at Joanna.
“We’ll work something out. This is for the best, Margery. It has to be. Can you think of any other way for me to keep William and John from ruining me?”
Margery thought for a moment. “No. I wish I could, but I can’t. What is Adrian like? I want to meet him.”
“He’s very handsome, strong, and serious. That’s what I’ve gleaned thus far.”
“To think you found someone to marry before I did. A knight, too. Joanna, I hope your marriage turns out to be everything you want,” Margery said. “But just in case, I’ll keep fresh linens on your bed.”
When he arrived at Joanna’s studio the next morning, the strain in Joanna’s face and the weariness around her eyes attested to her dismay. “I’m not looking forward to trying to convince my clients I’m not the drunk incompetent John made me out to be.”
Could her reputation be restored in such a short time? He’d toiled for years to restore the status of his family name and still hadn’t succeeded. If not for the allegiance of his overlord, the Duke of Warwick, who knew where he’d be. To help Joanna, as required under their agreement, he’d have to set his cause aside for the short term.
Another uncustomary urge to help her nagged at him. He’d focused on his own problems for so long he hadn’t thought much about anyone but himself and Andrew. Even though he was having trouble resolving his problems, he might be able to help someone else. The beautiful someone who would soon be his wife. That felt good.
“Where do we start?” he asked. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, but he didn’t want to set a precedent of intimacy.
Listlessly she moved about the workshop, tidying the already tidy space. She probably didn’t even realize she picked up each tool and brush and put it back in the same place. “I need every single day to complete outstanding commissions and sell new ones in order to earn enough money by the deadline in Father’s will. The irony is that I could accomplish this with an apprentice, but I can’t afford to hire one. So I need to take advantage of our agreement already.”
Her faith in him was humbling. By the stars, she was beautiful. That hair tumbling about, her clear green eyes combined with an enticing smile. He couldn’t help but imagine her awaiting him in their bed, awaiting the pleasure he’d give her. The pleasure they’d share.
On the surface they made a good pair. But he feared she had far more to offer than he. He hoped she wouldn’t think she got the poor end of their bargain.
“I need you to visit a few clients with me, as a witness to persuade them the rumors are untrue. And convince them the lies were fabricated by my brother and his henchman, who want to control me.” She ran a dry brush back and forth across her palm. “It’s strange,” she said with a wry grin, “I wanted to be independent and do things on my own. Maybe I’ve been a bit stubborn. Now I see that achieving independence can require assistance.”
Adrian braced his hands on the counter. Was that why he’d had so much trouble reaching his goals? Joanna admitted she needed support and asked for help, though she wasn’t happy about it. Until recently, he’d been too proud to accept he too might need help. If he’d done so as a youth, if he hadn’t been so determined that he alone had to do all the work, would he have succeeded by now?
His betrothed was beautiful, but already displayed an annoying tendency to make him think about unpleasant, albeit provoking, issues. Issues he’d avoided dealing with to spare himself pain.
Perhaps that was one benefit to being alone. With no one else to compare yourself to, it was easy to convince yourself you were doing the best you could. You didn’t care what anyone else thought because you only had to live up to your own expectations, not meet someone else’s.
He wondered how high Joanna’s expectations were.
Chapter 7
“Are you sure you want to speak with your brother before visiting clients?” Adrian asked as they crossed the bridge over the River Ouse, passing houses, shops and the chapel of St. William. She held her nose against the foul odor of the bridge’s privies.
His hair blew in the wind, remindi
ng Joanna of the day they first met. Every time she saw him he seemed more handsome than the last. He looked so concerned Joanna could almost believe he cared about her. But she knew he performed under the terms of their agreement and for no other reason. It was too soon to hope he even considered her a friend. She’d like for them to be friends at least, since they couldn’t be anything more.
“Yes. Who knows what he might do if he found out after the fact? Besides, I want him to meet you and see that you’ll brook no resistance.” She clutched her cloak tighter to ward off the damp chill.
He held her elbow to keep her from slipping on icy patches. She appreciated his courtesies, even if he offered them out of instinct. Her hands were cold, making her wonder what having someone’s warm hand to hold would be like. Never before when she’d seen couples strolling hand in hand had she had wistful thoughts about having such affection for herself.
What would Adrian do if she took his hand?
“Do you owe him even this effort?” he asked.
“He’s still my brother.”
With the ink barely dry, she hadn’t had time to adjust to their pact. Relying on Adrian and asking him for help felt like her shoes were too tight. Pinched. She didn’t like owing anyone. But she feared facing William alone when revealing the news of her impending marriage, especially if John Twygge was with him. William might be her brother, but she no longer trusted him.
“I am here for you, as you will be for me. When the time comes.”
Joanna sought the hidden meaning his reassuring words seemed to conceal. Did she imagine the strange tone in his voice? Except for his secrets, thus far Adrian was exactly what she would’ve wished for in a husband.
But there was so much she wanted to know about him. What had happened to his father’s title? What did he need to hide that was so important he had to make her agree in writing to avoid personal conversations? She shook her head. She had to stop analyzing everything Adrian said and accept what he offered without wanting more.
