Rand placed the horse comb on the stall wall, swung open the stall door, and left the stables. The only thing he could think to do was seek the quiet sanctuary of prayer in an attempt to find the absolution he desperately craved, but forever eluded him.
Chapter Five
Before dawn of the next morning, as Rose knelt in front of the chapel altar in prayer, biting cold from the flagstone floor seeped into her knees. The elaborate carved rood screen guarded the chancel of the palace chapel dedicated to St. John. Before the screen was the simple stone altar, atop which stood a forlorn lit candle. Very little light illuminated the area directly in front of her. She clasped her hands tightly to still their trembling.
The silence in the chapel could not calm the debilitating fear that coursed through Rose. The solace she sought in prayer eluded her. Her thoughts kept returning to the audience with the king. When Edward demanded she marry Sir Golan, her first instinct was unmitigated terror and then outright defiance. But one did not defy a king, and especially not one as capricious as Edward.
If Rose defied him, he could revoke her custody of Jason as easily as he had given it. The only alternative was to flee, but she would never leave her son behind. She would have to return to Ayleston and retrieve him. There was no doubt in her mind, though, that the king would seize Jason before she could. If by some miracle she did succeed, how could she protect Jason? A woman and child on the road without the protection of a man would be at the mercy of criminal and scoundrel alike.
Nay. She loved Jason so much she would do anything to protect him.
Perhaps she was overreacting. Sir Golan was a handsome man, but that was no proof he was anything like her cruel husband. She pulled the stone out from beneath her bodice and rubbed its smooth surface, seeking to ease her anxieties. It made her feel closer to Jason. At least Jason was legally in her custody and care. Golan would have no part in arranging his education, fostering, and marriage settlements.
Rose dipped her head again and prayed for guidance. A shiver lifted the hairs on the back of her nape. She shuddered and looked over her shoulder. The enveloping darkness of the barrel-vaulted nave no longer exuded a sense of solemnity.
Rose said a final prayer, crossed herself, and with one hand levered up off her aching knees. She hurried through the nave, her gaze moving back and forth to the arcade columns. Surely someone could not be watching her from the darker concealment of the aisles?
She entered the small vestibule when a large masculine hand reached out from the shadows. A shrill scream emerged from the back of her throat but was quickly cut off by his hand over her mouth.
“Don’t scream, Rose. ’Tis just me.” He released her immediately.
Her heart was palpitating so hard it felt as though it would burst. Stunned, she allowed Sir Golan to lead her back into the chapel. The moon shone through the clearstory windows—windows high in the second story above the arched columns—giving subtle illumination.
“Sir Golan, I was just returning to my chamber to retire. I pray you excuse me.”
He blocked her exit. “Rose, we have yet to speak privately about our upcoming marriage. Now we are alone, it would be a shame not to take this opportunity to discuss it.”
“My lord—”
“Prithee, call me Golan.” He smiled, baring his straight teeth. “We shall be married soon.”
“Golan,” she said after a slight pause. “The king made clear I am to marry you in two days’ time and I shall obey him. What more is there to discuss?”
“I can see you are troubled. How may I allay your concerns about marriage? Or is it me you object to?” A dark shadow passed over his eyes.
Disturbed by his blunt question, she looked away. “’Tis not you…Golan,” she lied. “My objection is to marriage, to any man. I had intended to dedicate my life to a vow of chastity.”
He stepped closer, reached out and cupped her cheek. “Beauty such as yours should not be squandered on chastity.”
She recoiled, but his other hand came up to clutch her head. He slowly drew his lips down toward hers. “Let me kiss you. I mean to convince you that you were meant for me, to bear my children.”
Cringing away from him, she brought her hands up and pressed against his chest. He did not budge. “My lord, Golan, you do not want me. You want my lands and vast wealth.”
His breath wafted across her lips. “Aye, but I want you more. And I shall have you.”
Rose shivered at the dark current of possession in his voice. “Golan, we are not yet wed. Prithee, release me,” she babbled desperately.
“One kiss. You shall not be disappointed,” he vowed.
“I do not want—” His mouth covered hers, cutting off her denial.
The moment his cold, thin lips touched hers, a shudder of disgust traveled down her body. Wrapping his arms around her, he groaned in satisfaction and plunged his tongue into her mouth. Rose whimpered, trembling uncontrollably. He ravaged her mouth, his tongue nearly gagging her as it thrust inside exuberantly.
He raised his mouth, and then trailed a wet path down her neck, mumbling, “Oh, God, you cannot deny it. I can feel you trembling with desire.”
She squirmed to escape his embrace. “Nay, release me. I do not want you. We are not yet married. Shall you dishonor me in the Lord’s house?” Her voice grew shrill.
He ignored her protests. “You need not be coy. I know what you want. You need to be coaxed and taught how to please me.” His thick fingers clutched her breast and squeezed hard.
Sharp pain seared her breast. Rose cried out, “Let me go! You are hurting me!”
His black eyes blazed with possessive determination before he crushed his mouth over hers. Rose moaned in misery and appalled disbelief as nausea churned in her stomach.
She began to struggle harder, but Golan shoved his big muscular body against hers and pressed her up against a stone column. He thrust his hard member into her shuddering belly. Terror struck a dagger into her heart. She froze as humiliating memories from the past tormented her—memories of Bertram’s forced seduction of her while Lady Lydia watched; of his braying laughter and her feelings of shame and degradation. Rose could not breathe. She gasped, trying to gulp air into her constricted lungs.
Tears of pain and humiliation blurred her vision. She bucked against him, and finally tearing her mouth free, she cried out, a desperate plea in her voice, “Stop, prithee!”
A roar of savage fury erupted in the chapel. Golan turned in stunned surprise. Rose flung away from the knight’s hold and huddled against the column. Her eyes grew wide when Rand flew at the man and pummeled him in the face. With a final punch, blood erupted from Golan’s nose and he flew backward. He landed on his arse on the chapel floor, clutching his nose and groaning in agony.
Fury pumping through him, Rand drew his sword, pressed the sharp tip beneath Golan’s chin, and glared down at him. “How dare you assault my betrothed. I could slay you where you lay.” After seeing Golan force himself on Rose, Rand could never let the marriage proceed. With that in mind, he knew of only one way to convince the king Rose was ineligible to marry Golan.
Golan scrambled to his feet, blood splatters on his tunic. Rand kept the steel blade steady and shoved Golan’s chin higher.
“You, Sir Rand, are a liar. Lady Ayleston is my betrothed.” Golan’s eyes glared with a hatred that bordered on madness. “The king just confirmed it this day.”
Rand curled his lip. “Then I pity you. The lady and I have a prior claim. With unimpeachable witnesses who will swear we were betrothed last spring.”
“I do not believe you. Rose swore she intended to take a vow of chastity.” Golan spun around and headed for the chapel exit. “The king shall hear of this!” he shouted.
Rand strode over to Rose, crouched against the stone column with her veil pulled over her face. “Oh, God, Rose. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” He reached out to hold her.
Rose flinched and whimpered like a wounded animal. He swallow
ed a growl of frustration and clenched his bruised knuckles to keep from touching her.
Rand knelt on his right knee before her, bending his other knee up and resting his forearm on it. He had wanted to kill Sir Golan. And he would have were it not a sacrilege to commit homicide in the consecrated edifice.
Rand spoke in a soft, soothing voice. “Rose. It’s all right. Sir Golan is gone. Prithee, remove the veil and show me your face so I know you are not unduly harmed.”
Cautious not to frighten her, Rand reached out slowly, caught the tail end of the fabric, and eased it out of her hand and away from her face. Though she didn’t resist, she drew her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly.
He searched her face. Skin usually soft and clear with good health was mottled and streaked with tears. And her eyes appeared dazed with a deep and unimaginable pain.
Feeling as though a fist squeezed his heart, Rand gasped. He inhaled deeply, trying to get a breath into his lungs.
“Speak to me, Rose. Did the bastard—? Did he touch you in a sordid manner?”
She shook her head violently. “Nay. He tried to convince me that I would enjoy his kisses, but I cannot. I pleaded for him to stop—” she stopped short, exhaling with a shudder.
“’Tis my fault.” Rand frowned. “I heard rumors about Golan, but I did not believe them. I thought you would be better—” He stopped midsentence when he realized Rose was still ignorant about his part in this travesty.
She raised her gaze, clouded with confusion. The moon silvered her heart-shaped face with a luminescent glow. “What are you talking about, Rand? How could you be to blame? You could not know that Golan would force his attentions on me. Or that he would believe he had a right to do so.”
“Rose, I pray you—”
She ignored him and continued, “You see, the king has given Sir Golan wardship of Jason’s estates.” Her voice dropped to a shuddery whisper. “And giving me no choice in the matter, Edward has demanded I marry the man in two days’ time.”
Rand dropped his gaze. Flexing his stiff knuckles, he stared at them, unable to look her in the face.
Though he was not looking directly at her, he saw her entire body stiffen in sudden suspicion. “Rand? Why do you not look surprised that King Edward ordered me to marry Sir Golan?”
When Rand hesitated, she dropped her arms from her knees and shoved up from the column awkwardly. He clutched her arm gently to help her rise and released her as soon as she was on her feet so that she did not feel threatened.
“Rand? Why will you not answer my question?”
“I am sorry, Rose. I could not disobey my king.”
“Sorry for what? Unless you…Tell me the truth.” Her voice grew louder, almost shrill. “Did you or did you not know Edward was going to force me to marry when you came to Ayleston and escorted me to court?”
Rand braced himself for her contempt. “Aye. The king told me of his plans.”
The stiff mask of her face crumpled and she shrieked in despair. Surprising him completely, she launched herself at him. Her hands arched like the claws of a cat.
Rand, reflexes amazingly quick, caught her hands before she could gouge his face.
Rose tugged on his grip wildly, her body wiggling like a captured eel trying to get free from a trap. She wailed, “How could you? How could you do this to me? You knew I never wanted to marry again.”
“Stop, Rose. Calm down. I could not tell you. Edward made me swear to keep the knowledge to myself.”
“But you knew. You knew I was going to take a vow of chastity. Now it is too late. I’m trapped. How could you betray me like this?”
“Rose. Stop struggling. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Nay! Let me go!” she hollered.
Rand released her wrists. Not yet spent, she began hitting him in the arms and chest. Rand let her land a few blows he thought were well deserved and then wrapped his arms around her. He held her till her fury elapsed.
Rose slumped against him. Her tears wet his tunic and her heavy breathing penetrated the cloth, bathing his chest with warmth.
“Why, Rand?” she begged, her voice thready. “Why did you not warn me when you came to the castle?”
“I could not. The king swore me to secrecy. As his loyal and sworn man, honor bade I keep my word.”
Rose pulled out of his arms with a violent tug. “What of your loyalty to me? We have been friends for a long time. And once were much more to each other. Have you forgotten so easily the night we made love? Where was your honor then? I deserve better treatment from you. I shall not forgive you for this betrayal.”
“Are you speaking of that night we made love? Or that I could not tell you of King Edward’s plan to marry you to Golan? Because you know that night was a mistake on both our parts. You made me swear never to speak of it.”
Rose clutched her hand over her heart. “Aye, I do not want to be reminded of what a fool I was. Twice. I cannot believe I actually trusted you.”
“Believe me, I wanted to warn you.”
Her eyes widened with sudden terror and her body tensed as though she were a frightened doe about to bolt. “Oh, Lord, how shall I survive marriage to Sir Golan? He will be furious now. I fear what he will do to me.”
“Do not be afraid. I’m not going to let him hurt you. I promise.”
“How can you make such a promise?” Rose shuddered, blue eyes haunted. “The man will be my husband in two days’ time. No one could protect me from Bertram, and no one can protect me now.”
Rand clutched her head between his hands and forced her to gaze into his eyes. His eyes blazed with conviction. “Listen to me. I know I failed you before, but I am going to make it right. I swear to you, Sir Golan will never have the opportunity to hurt you again.”
“Why should I believe your promises after you lied to me?”
“Because despite what you think, I care about you. I do not wish to see you forced to marry a man I now know is a danger to you.”
“What are you saying, Rand? Edward insists I marry; there is naught you or anyone can do to sway the king when he has decided upon a course.”
Rand took a deep breath. “I am going to see that your betrothal to Golan is discredited, and then to appease Edward, I shall marry you instead.”
Rose’s temples began to throb and her palms dampened as Rand laid out an elaborate scheme based on the rocky foundation of a preposterous lie. She shook her head, refusing to accept Rand’s plan. It was madness. It would never work. She would absolutely not be a party to such absurd machinations.
Chapter Six
The following afternoon in the king’s private reception room, Edward towered over Rose with a piercing stare. “Answer me honestly, Lady Ayleston. It is imperative that you tell me the truth of the matter.”
She clutched her hands behind her back to keep them from trembling. Surely all in the chamber could hear the pa-bum pa-bum pa-bum of her wildly beating heart.
She shifted her gaze to her father. Philip de Beaumont, Baron Briand, gave her an encouraging smile. His blue eyes, darker than hers, were soft with love.
Avoiding direct eye contact with Golan, Rose noticed his face was now marred with a black-and-blue eye and swollen nose. Satisfaction stirred in her breast.
Finally, she regarded Rand.
His gray-green eyes held hers—willing her to answer in the affirmative. Rose took a deep breath and lied to the king of England. “Aye, my lord. Sir Rand and I vowed to marry when I was at court last spring.”
At Golan’s deep inhalation, Rose looked at him at last. A fierce light flared in his black eyes and pierced her with a promise of retaliation. She shuddered.
Upon seeing Golan’s stare, Rand moved to Rose’s side and fixed a frozen glare on Golan till he jerked away.
Lord Briand added, “When my daughter informed me of her and Rand’s betrothal, I gave them my blessing. Though as a widow, Rose need not have my permission to marry.”
> When Rose’s father arrived at court early that morn, Rand had apprised him of Rose’s betrothal to Golan and the events that had transpired in the chapel. Lord Briand had been incensed, not only because Golan had attacked Rose, but also because Edward had given Sir Golan permission to marry Rose without consulting him. For those reasons, when Rand had laid out his plan to concoct a former, secret betrothal, Lord Briand had been quite willing to swear falsely that he knew of it.
“Sire, surely you don’t believe this nonsense,” Golan thundered, a purple vein bulging at his temple. “Last night Lady Ayleston claimed she intended to take a vow of chastity. Yet we are to believe she and Sir Rand had a prior betrothal agreement, which we are only hearing about now?”
Lord Briand, his voice soft yet lethal, inquired, “Are you calling me a liar, Sir Golan?” He frowned fiercely at the younger man.
Lord Briand stood tall and robust, his black hair silvered at the temples. Though not in his prime, he was still a powerful man. He had once been King Henry III’s champion.
Rand watched Golan squirm. The barrel-chested knight held up his hands in acquiescence. “Nay, my lord. But I believe I have the stronger claim.”
King Edward chose that moment to intervene. “Lord Briand, you have put me in a difficult position. I granted Sir Golan permission to marry your daughter, and when I give my word I don’t rescind it. The prior betrothal between your daughter and Sir Rand was verbal, not a written contract.”
Sir Golan looked smugly at Rand.
Edward continued, “Yet verbal agreements are as valid as written ones in the eyes of the Church. And it would appear that Rand does have the prior claim.”
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