by Alyssa James
When was he ever to learn?
His chest became a bubbling cauldron of bitterness. The self-contempt he experienced at his own lack of insight was a potent ingredient thrown into the mixture of resentment and feeling of violation and helplessness that had already stirred in him recently. He’d thought his fair lady wife would provide the antidote. Far from being a cure, the poison of Lisette’s betrayal completed the brew. ’Twas now a deadly, boiling, mix of emotion.
He’d thought her so pure, so unworthy of Collins.
Mayhap he should have left her to her fate instead of rescuing a woman who was evidently not worthy of his defence.
He stood up abruptly and paced away from the bed before turning to face her. She also jumped off the bed—although jumped to the opposite side, as if keeping the bed between them would afford her some measure of protection from his anger.
Unbelievably, she drew herself up to her full height. Pride appeared to stiffen her spine and set her jaw with determination. What she had to be proud of, he wasn’t sure. The evidence against her was damning. Shame should have her slinking away from him, cowering in a corner.
Zounds! If he were a lesser man, her life would be forfeit.
“I am not a maiden.” The words were spoken clearly, with only one faint break in her voice over the word maiden.
A short, bitter laugh escaped through his parted lips.
“That much, my love, would appear obvious,” he returned with sarcasm as he waved the pig’s skin package at her,
“I was going to tell you,” she cried in distress. “I tried to tell you.”
“So you claim, yet you brought this blood into our bridal chamber?” He shook his head. “I must have sorely displeased my liege for him to command me to marry a woman who is both a harlot and a liar!”
“I am no harlot,” she told him, her blue eyes now icy with rebuke.
Rowan almost laughed at her outrage. How dare she act as though she were the wronged party? “By your own admission you are no virgin.”
Her mouth firmed before she answered. A flash of shame appeared before a stony expression settled over her features. “Nay.”
He contemplated her attitude. Self-righteousness shone from her despite the magnitude of her sin. ’Twas incredible that he had been bested again by a member of the weaker sex.
“Were you taken forcibly?” He found himself half-hoping she would answer affirmatively. At least then he may find it within him to pardon her for attempting to practise this deceit and he could take out his fury by delivering retribution to the man who had wronged her.
She stared straight ahead as he paced to her left. “Nay. I went willingly.”
By the rood! The woman was verily a harlot.
“How many have swived you, Lady Lisette?”
She gulped, but answered calmly, her head still held high. “There has only been one, my lord.”
Only one? He was not sure he believed her.
“Do you fancy yourself enamoured of your lover?”
“Nay, my lord.”
“Nay? What sort of woman lies willingly with a man outside matrimony when she has no love for him?”
“I—”
“A whore, Lisette. You demean yourself and you dishonour me by your behaviour.” His hand cut angrily through the air. “You will not see your lover again.”
“Nay. I won’t,” she answered immediately. “He has already gone out of my life. I will never see him again.”
“Who was he?” he demanded. Just as quickly he decided he didn’t wish to know. He held his hand up as she went to respond. “Nay. You will never speak his name to me.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek as he dealt with the enormity of keeping his outrage in check. “You and your maid thought to deceive me with pig’s blood to stain your linen?”
Her head turned jerkily so she watched him as he paced back and forth. Panic skittered across her face. “How did you know about Ysabel?”
“I saw her pass this to you in the great hall.”
“Pray, Lord Romsey, do not punish Ysabel.” Her demeanour changed as she bargained for her maid. There was no pride in her stance anymore. No stubborn lack of remorse firmed her chin. Only impassioned pleading was evident in her tone. “She meant only to protect me.”
So, at least his harlot bride was loyal to her servant.
“Ysabel made plans with me this morning when we expected the marriage to Lord Collins to go ahead,” she spoke in a rush. “I had already decided not to use that blood to deceive you. I wanted to tell you, to explain. I hadn’t a chance to tell Ysabel not to deliver that to me as we’d arranged.”
’Twas possible she spoke the truth. ’Twas possible she lied. He knew her not well enough to know which to believe, although he had seen her shake her head and urge her maid away. The vision played through his mind. Aye. She hadn’t welcomed this pig skin from her maid. It had been thrust upon her.
“Lord Collins was evil. I pardoned my behaviour knowing I was to be tied to someone who did not deserve my respect. When you announced yourself as my betrothed, I realised you are deserving of my respect and that I must tell you the truth.”
“Yet, knowing there was just cause why we shouldn’t wed, you stayed silent,” he grated, unable to trust or forgive her.
She possessed enough shame to hang her head. “’Twas wrong of me. I was a coward. I should have confessed. I...I admit I was afraid of the consequences of a public declaration.”
His conscience twinged, for had he not once also been afraid of the consequences of a public declaration of guilt? Had not her father saved him from it?
Banishing the thought, his lips pressed against each other tightly and he ground the tips of his teeth together as he considered what she had told him. “Who else knows of your deceit?”
“Only Ysabel. Ysabel feared for my life if Lord Collins realised I had already lost my maidenhead.”
Wise of Ysabel. Yet just how the two women had thought Lisette would get away with bloodying the sheets in this manner was uncertain—particularly if Collins had let Blake have his way and there’d been a crowd of onlookers as she had been, supposedly, deflowered.
“And now you have a different husband and master. Do you fear for your life this night, Lisette?” he demanded in cold, detached tones that carried just a hint of threat.
Despite a slight tremor, she looked at him squarely as if she was reading his character. “Nay, my lord. ’Tho I know you have every right to despise me and have our marriage annulled, I fear not for my life at your hands.”
She judged him well. Her guardian, however, may be a different story. Lisette’s shame would also bring shame to his door. Blake would not handle that well.
Rowan turned away from her. To denounce her and to have their marriage annulled would place her at the mercy of the current Lord Blake. ’Twas impossible to contemplate placing his former commander and mentor’s daughter in danger. He owed her father too much. As well, there was his liege to consider. To denounce Lisette may offend King Henry, as this marriage had been by his decree. Furthermore...His blood ran cold. Worst of all, her wrongdoing could see her punished by the church.
His eyes closed tight for several seconds as images washed through his brain and gutted him with their clarity.
Nay. No matter how unworthy she was, Rowan could not denounce her.
There was naught but one thing he could do.
He paced angrily to the bed and threw back the rumpled covers. Holding the package of blood over the centre of the bed, he drew a small dagger out of a sheath from one boot and thrust the tip viciously into the pig skin so it punctured. He heard her inhale sharply as they both watched the red blood seep into the white linen cloth, staining it just as she had intended.
“There, Lisette. Now you have your stained sheet. The evidence of your purity for the world to behold.” His words tasted sour in his mouth. “’Tis a cross you must bear to know that you willingly deceived me and came to me in falsehood a
s my bride, without your virtue intact. You must live with this deceit.”
Her hands flew up to cover her anguished expression.
She may be remorseful now, or she may simply be playing him false. Either way, it didn’t matter. Rowan may be forced to protect her but she was unworthy of his honour and he would never trust her again.
“Why did you do that when you could have shamed me and cast me out?”
“It has to do with honouring the vows I took as a knight, and the memory of your father and all he did for me as both my commander and friend. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the meaning of honour,” he threw at her with contempt.
“But you could have asked King Henry to annul our marriage.”
“That would bring shame on your father’s name and he, at least, was a member of your family I respect. As to your fate, you would be sent back to your legal guardian or receive your punishment by the church.”
The expression of horror and trembling of her limbs at mention of her guardian demonstrated how little she wished to return to live under her guardian’s roof. The second he spoke of punishment by the church she swayed. She realised as well as he that her sin may be judged by the church as punishable by death.
Rowan had taken an oath to defend women. He would not break that oath even for this woman who’d betrayed him. He would also do this for her father, the man he respected as a commander, who had given him an opportunity to become the knight he was. The former Lord Blake had protected him the one time Rowan’s honour had lapsed. Had it not been for Lisette’s father, Rowan may well have been destined for the hangman’s noose.
“My liege commanded me to wed you. ’Tis done. You shall travel with me to Romsey Castle and be my chatelaine. Think naught to cross me again. You shall take no other lovers to your bed.”
She gave a small nod.
There was a degree of shame and gratitude in her expression, however he also recognised a mix of defence, defiance, and pride in the blue depths of her eyes. He had never met a guilty party who behaved with so little shame, so little remorse.
“I had good reason to—”
“There can be no good reason for a lady of noble birth to come to her husband impure—unless you were raped,” he cut in. Bitterness soured his mouth as he uttered the word rape, his own experiences pounding back into his conscious mind. “You have admitted that was not the case. Your willingness to fornicate outside the marriage bed brands you a harlot.”
“You wrong me!”
Rowan was incredulous. “’Tis you, my lady, who wrongs me, and I care not to hear any more about your swiving.”
“Nor I about yours!” she shot back.
A red haze of rage coloured Rowan’s vision. “I beg your pardon?”
“’Tis wrong that as my prospective husband you have doubtless fornicated with scores of women, yet I am expected to have saved my maidenhead for you!”
The woman was verily a shrew. “Hold your tongue, woman! ’Tis shamefully you speak of such things to me.”
Her lips were thin, the anger emanating from her now in palpable waves. “So, what to our marriage, my lord? Am I to take it you will have no need of me in your bed?”
“Jesu,” he cursed. “If I have the wish to bed a harlot I will visit the local woman and pay silver for that pleasure.”
Her cheeks reddened as his words slapped her.
He tugged the sheet from the bed with vicious ferocity and turned away from her. Fury and frustration made it necessary for him to leave her before he did something he regretted. She riled him as no woman had ever done and penetrated the cool exterior he presented to the world. The woman he’d expected to help him restore his manly confidence after his recent experiences had been an illusion, simply making him feel less secure about his judgements.
Like a bolt of lightning, the thought hit him...
“Are you with child?” he ground out as he swung back.
Just how recently had she lain with her lover?
He watched her throat move up and down as she swallowed convulsively. Fury, more violent than any he had known, threatened to erupt as he waited for her answer. Finally, jaw squared, she replied.
“I know not,” her words were little more than a whisper. She swallowed again. “’Tis too early to tell.”
Hell’s teeth! She was fresh from her lover’s bed.
“When do you expect your womanly flow?” he demanded, his forearms cramped from the effort of keeping his fisted hands firmly by his side. “When—will—you—know?”
She blushed furiously again, her reactions so virginal yet he knew now that was not the case.
“In a sennight.”
Her lover had barely left her bed!
The realisation that he may have been cuckolded left a bitter taste in his mouth and he fought against the need to pummel his fists against something. Again he berated himself for having fallen for her deceit. He’d thought her so pure. ’Twas laughable that he had considered himself unworthy of her!
Short of riding Stormbringer out onto the battlefield and cutting down any enemy who got in his way, what he needed was a good workout on the quintain. Impossible, given that ’twas his wedding night. He had no wish to give the gossipers more to whisper about.
Jaw clenched, he turned back to his task of lifting the bar on the door, carrying the offensive sheet with him. He needed to leave this woman. He needed to do something to work off his rage and the frustration of unfulfilled lust. Tomorrow he would fight his knights straight after morning mass. He hoped they were up to the task after the festivities of the night. Mayhap one of them would beat some sense into him so he remembered the vow he’d made long ago never to trust a woman. This time he would honour that vow. No woman would deceive him again.
“Lord Rowan, what will you do to me if I am...”
“Hell’s demons, woman! Don’t ask such a question. Just pray that you are not.”
Chapter 6
“Lisette, wake up!”
At Ysabel’s urgings Lisette stirred from her deep slumber. Wishing she could be left alone to go back to sleep, she groaned as her servant drew back the heavy curtains. The brightness of daylight streamed through the window. That was unusual for she was normally an early riser. “I’ve missed the morning mass?” she asked through sleep-thickened vocal cords.
“Oui. Your ’usband insisted that you be left to sleep, but ’e wishes that you join ’im now to break your fast.”
Husband.
That word blasted Lisette into wakefulness as effectively as being doused by a bucket of cold water. Scrambling upright, she took in her surroundings and her mind cleared. This wasn’t any normal morning at Bridlemere. This was Collins’ keep and she was married.
‘Ysabel!’ Now she was fully awake she was confused by the maid’s presence. “I thought you had left last night with Lord Blake.”
“Non. Genevieve and I are to return to Bridlemere today.” Ysabel sat on the edge of the bed. “Unless, of course, you can persuade your ’usband to let us both stay with you.”
“Oh, dear Lord, I don’t think I can ever face him again let alone persuade him into anything.”
“Lisette, do not blaspheme!” came the former nursemaid’s stern rebuke. A second later her disapproval became concern. “Did ’e ’urt you? Lord Rowan was most considerate of your needs this morn, and ’as already taken down the bridal sheet which was displayed for all to witness. The plan succeeded.”
A wave of heat crept upward from Lisette’s chest and travelled to her cheeks. “The plan did not succeed and, as I tried to tell you last eve, I had no intention of proceeding with deceiving Lord Rowan in any way.”
“What are you saying?”
“He found the pig’s blood,” she blurted in confession.
“Mon Dieu!” Ysabel exclaimed, obviously forgetting her rebuke about blasphemy. “But the sheets? Sacré bleu!” Her tone echoed of her horror. “Was ’e so rough with you ’e made you bleed?” She shook her head in incom
prehension, her eyes wide and afraid. “We thought Lord Collins would be a beast. What type of man is Lord Rowan?”
Lisette hunched forward in her misery but hastened to defend Lord Romsey. “He’s a good man, Ysabel. So decent and so worthy I do not deserve him.”
“But ’ow...?”
“I was going to tell him the truth of my sins. He was so kind to me I had hoped to throw myself at his mercy, especially as he knew what fate awaited me had my marriage to Lord Collins proceeded. But, before I had a chance, he found the pig’s blood concealed in my pocket.”
The French woman covered her mouth as she inhaled a shocked breath.
“He didn’t allow me to explain, nor, praise God, did he wish to annul the marriage and hand me back to be under Lord Blake’s guardianship.” Lisette could not suppress the violent shudder that wracked her body. ’Twas only knowledge of the value of her maidenhead that had stopped Lord Blake fornicating with his own ward. If he ever realised that she had deceived him, she would pay dearly. Only the point of her dagger in his flesh would prevent him from using her as one of his whores now was she to return to Bridlemere.
Ysabel clasped Lisette’s hands in her own. “Tell me the rest, ma pauvre fille.”
“Lord Rowan used the pig’s blood to stain the sheet rather than betray my lack of virtue, but he would not consummate our marriage in truth. He knows I await my monthly flow, yet I know not what will become of me should I be with another’s child.”
Ysabel crossed herself three times and sent up a prayer in rapid French.
Lisette had been on her knees until the first rays of sunlight kissed the night sky farewell and warmed the earth for a new day. She’d prayed fervently that her husband would find the compassion to forgive her. Only then had she closed the curtains, crept into bed and allowed exhaustion to claim her.
“The Earl of Romsey is a truly noble knight, Ysabel.” Far more noble than she deserved. “He is intent on honouring his pledge to me as his wife, even though he knows I am far less than worthy of him.” She forced herself to stop wringing her hands together in agitation. “I am truly blessed that he is my husband and I vow I shall make him a good wife.”
