An Earl for an Archeress

by E. Elizabeth Watson

  It had been months since she had felt feminine, and with her father’s shadow of anger always smothering her, she had never felt lovely. But she felt beautiful now as she looked at her transformation in Robert’s copper plate. While exciting on one hand, it made her ever-present vulnerability flare. The men and women of Huntington would judge her when she walked into the great hall. Many would wonder who she was, for she looked entirely different. They would stare and whisper, and Robert would see her dressed like a prized woman of breeding, hindered by her heavy skirts and beautiful, if not completely worthless, slippers.

  What if he no longer saw her as his equal? The idea caused her to pause. Self-doubt gripped her, and once again she found herself turning around to retreat to her chamber. I shouldn’t be seen like this. She hiked back up the stairs with all confidence lost. Except Alice came zipping down the steps to tend to her other duties with a massive basket in her arms, taking up the width of the stairwell.

  “Dinner awaits, my lady.” She huffed. “Hurry, or you shan’t have a thing to eat once the soldiers have their fill. Go on. If I am to pass with this heavy basket, I can’t do so until you reach the bottom.”

  Mariel took in a deep breath, exhaled with defeat, and pivoted back around. If only she could wear her quiver and carry her bow. It would give her a badly needed confidence boost. She came to the great hall merry with torchlight and loud with chatter. Each meal here was such a display, adorned with heavy breads and savory meats, vegetables and sweets flavored with honey and sugar.

  Surveying the room, she rested unnoticed in the shadow of the doorway, when Alice whizzed back by and gave her a scoot to get moving.

  “If I didn’t know better, lady, I would say you show cowardice,” the woman chastised, nudging her into the hall.

  She scoffed. Of course she wasn’t scared. Am I?

  She most definitely was scared. And then those at the nearest trestle table took notice, a guardsman and a serving girl he had pulled upon his lap who could not have been much older than five and ten, who draped herself upon the man with the experience of a London tavern whore. He stared, his eyes moving up and down, resting upon her face, hair, and generous cleavage. He nudged his mate, who did the same, until the table had hushed and those at the next table turned to see what had caused the silence.

  And then the dais took notice. As the chamber hushed, Robert looked up from his attempts to end Anna’s flirtations beside him. Their eyes locked. Her face burned. Holding a rib, he paused in mid bite with his hand halfway to his mouth. The silence rippled across the room like a wave, swallowing chatter as it rolled to the opposite wall until she stood on display in the grandest hush she had ever heard. Knowing her face blushed more deeply than her gown, she fought the urge to run.

  Coward! she scolded herself. But being a coward was justified, and she began to turn around. Except Robert dropped the meat with a clatter and jumped to his feet, wiping his fingers on his napkin and dropping it on top of his food. He moved around the other guests upon the dais to make his way across the room.

  Robert slowed to a stop a couple feet before her then offered his hand to escort her. Heat raged across her face, but she took it, placing her fingers into the cup of his palm. He grinned, though it was not the cocky grin of arrogance he was so talented at producing, nor was it the appreciative grin of a man faced with beauty he hoped to bed. It was a silent grin of awe as he searched her eyes to determine what she was thinking. It was the smile of a man who was falling in love.

  Love? She shed the thought. She was romanticizing his smile overmuch. Such arrogance on her part to ever think a man might fall at her feet for being beautiful and proclaim his love for her. Only in a bard’s stories were women so lucky and men so paralyzed by beauty.

  He walked her through the silent hall, climbing the dais. Without taking his eyes from hers, he said to Anna, “Please return to your seat, Lady Anna. The chair beside mine is for the beauty on my arm…and no one else.”

  Anna’s face flushed. Her eyes darted to Mariel with a scathing glare, and then fell to her lap. She stood, embarrassed, and moved toward the exit with her head ducked down.

  Mariel felt Anna’s embarrassment. All along she had wished Robert would dismiss the ladies falling at his feet, but now that he had, she felt sorry for the girl. Her flirting had been harmless and perhaps Robert could have been more courteous, though in the end she was also relieved. He had just made a powerful statement and the entire hall had seen it, including Charlotte, sitting several seats down, watching them.

  Seeing her seated, he took his chair and poured her wine into a silver goblet, handing it to her and letting her fingers touch his as she took it from him. He said nothing as he picked up the serving utensils and transferred a heap of meat, vegetables, and bread to her plate, the rings upon his fingers glittering in the torchlight. He began reaching for the platter of sweets, too, when she stopped him.

  “Do you realize how tight this damned corset is?” she whispered. “I can hardly breathe, let alone fit so much food down my gullet.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Even when dressed in the finest garments money can buy and poised like a lady of more import than Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, you have such a blunt way with words.”

  “I don’t act more important than any queen,” she said, when she felt his hand encase hers. He leaned over to speak in her ear and the room mercifully began to resume chatting. No doubt gossiping about her and Huntington, if the heads turning to look at them were an indication.

  “Mari,” he whispered. “You don’t act. The grace in which you entered this hall shows me there is a refined side to you. You’ve shown me your thorns time and again, but this eve you show me your rose blossom.”

  “And you prefer the blossom, all primped and perfumed.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t get it yet, do you? I prefer the entire parcel. All of it. Despite your unique skill and sharp mind, you’re one of the most elegant creatures I’ve ever seen. It dismays me greatly that every man here sees you, too, for I’m watching their eyes settle on your endowments as we speak, no doubt wishing you were a serving wench for them to pull upon their lap.”

  “I can nay—sorry, cannot help the way I look,” she defended, looking at her plate, feeling his breath on her ear and neck.

  “Indeed. Though you were hiding your beauty behind your poorly kept hair and male garments. I’ve thought you were beautiful from the first moment you entered my tent at the tourney and care not what you wear. But I appreciate the magic Charlotte has worked, and deep down I believe you have missed such primping. But believe me, though I benefit greatly from this vision, I only had your happiness in mind when I requested Charlotte’s favor.”

  She took some dainty bites of food, for honestly, the corset was so tight it might actually be cutting off her blood flow and “dainty” was all her stomach could handle. Neither spoke for a while, but she could sense his eyes creep sidelong at her from time to time. Taking more wine, instead of a stout ale, she longed to clear her trencher of its succulent foods, for so much time without a stable food supply had made her learn to indulge each time the moment presented itself.

  And out of nowhere, the sentiment hit her, dressed as she was. She longed for her sister again. The two had spent many hours together daydreaming of fine gowns and beautiful adornments. Even when their father had made life a living hell, the two of them could pass the time in each other’s chambers daydreaming of valiant men in chain mail, bearing gifts and begging favors. They had styled each other’s hair and on some occasions, snuck food away from the board, so that late at night when stripped of their restrictive corsets, they might sit together on Mariel’s bed, indulge their stomachs, and curl together while Mariel read aloud from her book of miracles. Teàrlach’s words about heartbroken Madeline rang in her mind.

  Robert leaned down to her ear again, shaking her from her thoughts. “Wi
ll you accompany me to my solar?”

  The quiet of his voice made her pulse jump. At this hour? He wanted her to accompany him?

  “Do you plan another meeting this eve?”

  He shook his head, taking her hand again. “I have something I wish to give you. ’Twill only be you and me.”

  She looked around, certain that everyone could hear his whisper despite the din of feasting and the lute and harpist that were beginning to play. Soon, a bard began to regale the hall with a tale of a young king who dressed as a peasant to spy on a beauty, a crofter’s daughter who he later seduced and ultimately made his queen. The tale was fraught with both humor and love. Huntington’s men and women fell into rows of laughter, and it was then that Robert squeezed her hand.

  She turned to look at him, the first she had done during the meal, and he let go of her hand, caressing her cheek. Lord, did he intend to seduce her? She began to blush at simply the idea. How did he do that? Make her limbs feel weak when she hadn’t exerted herself? But if he intended to seduce her, then why would he suggest rendezvousing in his solar and not his bedchamber? But maybe that was just it. His solar was more formal, and therefore others might speculate less.

  She sighed. She was overthinking his request.

  “Come.” He chuckled, as if he could see the thoughts flitting around her head.

  While the hall sat with their attention diverted, Robert slipped Mariel away. Will watched them go and Mariel noted the slightest of nods exchanged between them, but could do no more than speculate at their meaning. However, Will was engaging with Charlotte and doing a fine job of keeping the woman distracted.

  They said nothing as they moved through the corridor, climbing the stairs, causing the torchlight to waver as she swept by in her gown. At long last, they reached the carved doors of his solar. Robert opened them and ushered her in. Removing a torch from the wall, he went to the tapers upon the circular table and lit each one, then went to one of the hearths and put new kindling beneath the stack of logs laid out by the serving staff and lit it with the torch as well.

  Upon returning the torch to its sconce in the corridor, he pushed the door shut, placed a bar across it to keep out anyone with enough audacity to enter the lord’s solar, and turned to look at her. He took her in, in her entirety, taking a moment to make the slow, burning perusal he hadn’t made in the hall below.

  “You are stunning,” he finally said.

  The cavernous ceiling, shadowed banners above them, and tall windows blackened by night made the room dark despite the few flames Robert had lit. He strode forward, his eyes flitting to her naked collarbone and her endowed bosom. She felt shy, knowing he watched the shadows dancing upon her skin. As he arrived in front of her, he reached to her face and cupped her cheek. Leaning down, he gave her a sweet but chaste kiss. His finger trailed down her cheek, then her jaw, then her neck, burning a path downward, downward, toward the soft rises of her breasts.

  She couldn’t contain the exhale that escaped her throat. But just as she began to think his seduction had begun, he took a step back, then another, and turned away, walking to his sideboard, where a locked box polished to a shine sat.

  “I said I had something for you. I couldn’t help but think that for a lady of breeding, you had quite the naked throat,” he said, his back turned, as he fished a key out of his codpiece.

  Lord, but even from behind it appears as if he trifles with his cock.

  He unlocked the box and lifted the lid, then shut it again, locked it again, and returned the key to the purse resting at the juncture of his thighs. Coming back to her, he held a velvet pouch. He opened the flap and pulled out a necklace made of golden links, containing a pendant of a rose quartz the color of her gown, inlaid in a gold disc.

  “Will you accept this?” he asked.

  Her mouth was agape, she realized, as she reached out to finger the precious jewelry. Promptly, she closed her mouth. A gift of jewels was not what she’d expected. “Wherever did you get such a treasure?” she asked.

  “’Twas my mother’s.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke his next words, but allowed his finger to mingle with hers as they both examined the stone. “After she died, my father began collecting her riches to sell off or melt down for other items of importance. She had always loved this one. She had told me it was a family heirloom, though I never knew from whom it descended. So, before my father could get his hands on some of her more prized items, I stole them and hid them away in my belongings. I know he killed her. But I couldn’t bear to let him kill everything that she held to be beautiful, too.” Now his hazel eyes, warm from the firelight, shifted to hers. “I never had a plan for it except to always keep it…until I saw you tonight.”

  He reached into his coat and pulled something out. Handing it to her, he left it in her open hand. Her pink ribbon, or at least what had once been a pink ribbon, unraveled into a wad.

  “I searched the forest for you when you disappeared from my tourney. I never found you, but I did find this, by a stream, under a log. I recalled you wearing it…”

  His voice trailed away. Her eyes widened, fixed on the ribbon. She picked it up from her palm and extended it wide.

  “I don’t know why I kept it,” she whispered. “I searched for it after I left the tourney, but it must have fallen out of my packs whilst I was changing. I was saddened by the loss.”

  “It’s a fine ribbon, Mari. Obviously it wasn’t cheap. Any woman might miss it.”

  But she was shaking her head. And then it happened. There was no stopping it. She threw her head in her hands and cried. She worked so hard to never cry, but now, there was no holding back.

  “What’s wrong, love?” Robert fretted, lifting her chin. “Look upon me, woman.” She began shaking her head, but he coaxed her up to him. “Your anguish ruins me. Tell me,” he urged.

  “My faither gave it to me when I was young,” she whispered, swiping at her tears stubbornly. Still, he held her chin. “He always loathed me. But once, in a spirit of celebration, he gifted it to me. I let myself think for so long that he had done so because secretly he…he loved me.” Her last words were a whisper. “Every time he took out his wrath on me since, I tried to convince myself he did not mean it. He’d given me this,” she said, gesturing with the ribbon. “Loving faithers give their daughters adornments.”

  She shook her head. “It took me years to finally realize it had been but a token to him and meant nothing, that he had been full of drink and had not even remembered it. I finally stopped believing in miracles, for I had hoped so badly that God would see fit to change his heart. I finally stopped forgiving him. When I discovered his plan to marry me off to a man just like him, I fled.”

  Robert pulled her to him, enveloping her in his embrace. “You managed to survive. God, woman, don’t you see how strong you are? Trying to earn a smile from you has been the hardest work of my life,” he teased.

  She looked up, laying her raw emotions bare.

  “If I marry you, I give all of myself to you,” she said. “All that I am is yours. How can I trust you? God above, man, I want to trust you more than you think. I want to say ‘aye’ to your proposal. But I fear that if you do not really want marriage, you’ll resent me. I fear I’ve lost my heart, and I’m terrified of what you might do with it! I’m so afraid—”

  His mouth crushed down upon hers and he squeezed her, the necklace still clenched in his fist. His kiss was demanding, urgent, full of intensity. When he pulled apart from her, he dropped down to one knee and took her hands.

  “Let me do this for you, Mari. Let me protect you in the only way that I can. I know full well the decision I make and I’m choosing to do so.” He kissed the back of her hand and then looked to her eyes again. “Place your trust in me and I’ll never betray it. This I swear.”

  …

  She collapsed down to her knees, too, and threw herself i
nto his arms with so much fervor it made Robert’s heart ache with pleasure. He dragged her against him, falling to his rear on the rug before the fire and taking her with him so that they sat pressed together in a heap. He pulled her down so that they lay against each other and he encompassed her securely in his arms, feeling her head resting on his shoulder and her face pressed to his chest. Rolling her onto her back, he propped himself up beside her on his elbow, his head resting on his hand, his legs outstretched and tangled against hers, hidden by the fabric of her gown. He looked down into her eyes.

  “Beautiful woman,” he whispered, touching her cheek. Lord, but she had taken his breath away in the hall. “I’ve wanted you alone, all to myself, since I met you.”

  He kissed her again, sensually, letting his hand tease her skin, pushing the pendant with slow precision into the nest of her cleavage to ensure his gift was received and well-secured. She sucked in hard at the stone against her skin, her breath then hitching as he took to caressing circles upon it. She was aroused, which only aroused him further, and he dared to trail his fingertip along the edging of her gown, over each swell of her breast.

  His thoughts moments ago, so planned and prepared, scattered now, and it took summoning his deepest determination to resist climbing between her legs.

  “Wear this pendant so I know you’re mine. I’ll never break your trust,” he vowed. “Though we are certain to have disagreements, even arguments, in the years to come, know that I will always honor you.” His fingers continued to tease her skin. “And know that as you entrust your heart to me, I’m entrusting myself to you as well.”