Velvet Bond

by Catherine Archer

  She cast a glance toward Raynor, her gaze holding his over the few inches that separated them. “I could only give my heart to one such as they.” She gave a self-derisive laugh, and lifted her hand, only to have it fall back into her lap. “But for reasons I don’t understand, it is you who draws me like a bee to a buttercup. There is something I would ask of you. And please know, if you choose to comply with my request, I will not take this a sign that you are interested in me.” Her lashes fluttered. “You see, I have never been kissed, have not wanted anyone to do so, that is until yesterday, when I saw you.” She looked up at him beseechingly. “I was wondering if you would kiss me just once, before you go. We will never see each other again, and so it seems a little thing to ask.”

  For a long time, Raynor just knelt there, looking into her eyes. What she had requested was completely beyond the realm of sanity, wasn’t it? After all, he had already acknowledged, if only to himself, that Elizabeth was the most beautiful and desirable woman he had ever met. He would be stepping beyond the boundary he had set for himself by kissing her. Such an act might just release some of the passion she awakened in him.

  But as he looked down at her, at the ingenuous hope in her blue eyes, he knew he could not hurt her by refusing. She seemed so utterly vulnerable at this moment, with her inhibitions stripped away by too much wine. What harm could there be in giving her one chaste kiss? He doubted that Elizabeth would even remember on the morrow.

  Slowly, and with a tenderness that surprised even him, Raynor placed his lips on hers. Elizabeth’s mouth was soft and warm, and her skin smelled sweetly of rose petals. Her softly rounded breasts pressed close to him as she opened herself to his embrace. There was not the least bit of resistance in her, only soft, giving female. Raynor felt the hot cramp of desire, there in his gut, threatening to burst free and consume him. But he held it at bay. He drew away from her with infinite care, fearing that if he moved too quickly he would lose control.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him, sighing with contentment. “I shall never forget.”

  He raised a hand to brush a silken curl from her brow. His voice was softer than a whisper as he answered, “Neither shall I, Elizabeth Clayburn.” And he knew it was true. Raynor didn’t understand what had happened here between them, but he knew she had awakened tender feelings he’d thought long dead.

  And that was exactly why he must go from here and never look back. Raynor had no place for such weakness in his life. He had to stay strong and in control of his own destiny. Willow, and many others, depended upon him.

  He moved to lay her back.

  Her eyes opened, and she looked at him with a drowsy frown. “Nay, my lord, hold me yet a while. It does feel good to be in your arms, and this is all I shall have of you.”

  His reply was unexpectedly regretful. “But I must go.”

  Her gaze cleared then, for a moment, and her expression was filled with a sympathy so deep it startled him. “Nay, Raynor. Abide here with me for a time. You will come to no harm. I wish you nothing but good. Rest, if only for a while. It will serve you well.”

  She reached up to run her soft hand over his cheek, and Raynor was lost. It was as if she gave him a modicum of peace simply by reaching out to him. Never in his life had he been touched with such tenderness.

  It almost seemed that Elizabeth was absorbing some of his cares into the softness of her woman’s flesh. She looked up at him, her eyes soft and languid. “Kiss me again, my lord.”

  His arms tightened, and he lowered his dark head, one of his hands slipping down to cup the delicate curve of her bottom, unable in that moment to deny her or himself.

  * * *

  Stephen led the other two men around the back of the house, to the shed where he kept his horse and Elizabeth’s. The animals could feed and drink while the men were having their own meal.

  Their mounts had been hard-ridden, but Edward had wanted the archbishop’s reply to his letter without delay. He and the other two knights had made very good time to return so quickly. Once the message was delivered to the king’s chamberlain, Stephen had suggested some refreshment at his home, and they had agreed most readily. His invitation had not been solely out of hospitality. He thought that with these two present there could be no question of Elizabeth being too forward in regard to Raynor and giving him the wrong impression.

  Stephen dismounted and led his charger forward into the low building, with its two stalls. He stopped short. Dancer’s stall was not empty as he had expected. A strange chestnut stallion reared and pawed at the air upon seeing Stephen approach. Obviously Raynor had already arrived. Though he could not have been here for long, as Stephen’s note had specified one hour hence.

  Stephen backed Dancer from the shed.

  He tied the white stallion outside and helped the other two men do the same to their horses. After they were fed and watered, he hurried to the house.

  It was only a moment before his pounding at the door was answered. He heard the heavy bolt drawn back, and Olwyn’s pale face appeared in the opening.

  But it wasn’t until she opened the door all the way and Stephen saw the very real apprehension on her face that he felt the first twinges of unease. What had Elizabeth done? Drat his impulse in asking the other two men to join him!

  He took a step into the room, trying to appear casual. “Lord Warwicke has arrived?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide. “Yes, my lord.”

  “I see.” He smiled. “We will go up, then.” He refused to even contemplate the question of how long Raynor had been here.

  She looked from him to the other two knights, biting her lower lip. Olwyn stared at the brooch on his cloak. “My lord, I think it best if I talk with you in private.”

  The other two men looked at each other, then at Stephen. They were members of the king’s personal guard, and trained to be suspicious of anything unusual. Clearly they wondered what must be kept secret from them.

  Having no wish to have to explain Olwyn’s bizarre behavior to the king, Stephen gave a groan of impatience and strode across the room. Distantly he heard himself explaining, “She is a shy girl, much given to whispering and such. I find her a trial at times.” He had no choice now but to take them up to the solar. Stephen could hear the men muttering in commiseration as they followed him. They had to hurry to keep up as he took the stairs to the upper floor, but he didn’t care. He hoped to put at least a small distance between them, so that he might arrive first.

  On opening the door of the solar, he stopped dead. There on the carpet where Elizabeth usually read before the fire were Raynor of Warwicke and his sister. And they were kissing, one of Raynor’s hands resting possessively on his sister’s backside. They started and looked up at Stephen, then each other, in dazed but abject horror. If it hadn’t been for the fact that a nightmare was unfolding before his very eyes, Stephen would have laughed.

  Though he moved to block their way, he heard one of the men behind him take in a sharp breath.

  Elizabeth looked toward the door at the sound, her blue eyes going wide with misery when she saw the men with her brother. Her veil had come out of her hair, and the ebony mass tumbled about her in wild disarray. As she moved to her knees, she groaned and put a hand to her head.

  Obviously Warwicke fared no better, for he looked as though he were not quite sure what was happening. Stephen watched while realization dawned and Raynor’s lips thinned to a grim line as he rose to his feet facing the door.

  Why could Elizabeth not have heeded him? And why had Raynor acted so foolishly himself? Now that the king’s men had seen the two together, Stephen had little choice as to what must be done. Though both were clothed and gave no indication that they had been otherwise, Elizabeth’s reputation was in question. Raynor was already the subject of much talk concerning his illegitimate child.

  Damn her, but he’d tried to warn her. But Elizabeth had ever been one to make her own decisions, and usually proved right. The problem was that this one mis
take might cost her more dearly than all the others in her life combined.

  But there was nothing to be done now. Stephen addressed only Raynor. “I hope you are prepared to right the wrong you have done this night.”

  Raynor straightened his shoulders, his eyes direct on Stephen’s, but giving no hint of his feelings. “I am.”

  “Nay!” Elizabeth cried, tossing her hair out of her eyes. “I will not.”

  Raynor went on as if he hadn’t heard her, the expression on his handsome face cold as frozen marble. “I will marry your sister.”

  But even as Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, one of the king’s guards raised his hand and said, “I will bear witness to his promise.”

  She looked to Stephen, but he could offer no assistance. She had brought this upon herself. If the other men had not been here, things might have been different, but not now. Word would spread throughout the court by midday.

  Stephen almost reached out to comfort her when Raynor would not even meet her gaze.

  Elizabeth cried, “Stephen, surely you must see that a marriage between us is impossible. Nothing happened here. We had too much wine and shared a kiss. That is all.”

  Raynor addressed Stephen. “I can delay only one day. I have responsibilities awaiting me at Warwicke. It must be done by tomorrow.”

  Stephen nodded. “It will be so.”

  Chapter Four

  Elizabeth’s black palfrey stamped and snorted, expelling a cloud of breath into the chill morning air. It jerked restively, pulling at the reins she held in her gloved hands.

  The weather had turned cold overnight, as cold as Raynor Warwicke’s demeanor since he’d uttered his agreement that he would wed her two day ago. It was as if spring knew its warmth would find no welcome in his eyes.

  Elizabeth’s gaze went to her husband, where he sat atop his stallion at the front of the wagons. He never even glanced in her direction, but made his impatience to be gone known in the stiff line of back and shoulders.

  The wagons were ready, had been since dawn. All that delayed them was Elizabeth’s goodbye. She turned to Stephen, who stood stony-faced, only his dark green eyes betraying his sadness. That was until she reached up to put her arms around his neck. Then he broke down, holding her close as he said, “I am sorry, Beth. There was no other way.”

  She hugged him tightly, comforted by his embrace. Despite wanting desperately to retain this feeling of love and safety, she answered him bravely. “I know, brother. This trouble is of my own making, and I must live with the consequences.”

  He held her head close against his shoulder for a long moment before letting her go. There was nothing more to be said. In the hours since he had found her and Raynor together, they had been over it all.

  As she swung around to mount her horse, still without a word from her new husband, Elizabeth raised her chin. She would not let him see how his coldness hurt her. If that was what he desired, they would be like two strangers. And that did seem to be the way he wanted things. Looking at the rigid line of his wide back, it was difficult for her to believe they were even wed.

  Only the hollow ache in her chest told her the truth of it. This was not some horrible dream from which she would awake to find herself in her own bed.

  The marriage had been accomplished without circumstance in the king’s own chapel. Elizabeth had not garbed herself finely, nor had her bridegroom. When word came that the deed was to be done, they’d gone up to Windsor as they stood.

  Not since the priest had declared them wed had Raynor so much as spoken to her.

  He’d left her at Stephen’s side without even a backward glance. It was only after her brother took her home that Elizabeth had received word to inform her that she and her belongings were to be ready to travel by the next morning.

  Which brought her to this moment of leaving her home, with little thought of hope for her future.

  Studying her husband’s unyielding posture ahead of her, Elizabeth couldn’t help wondering yet again if Raynor believed she had deliberately trapped him into the marriage. From the cold way he had behaved, she could not but think he did. If only there were some way of making him understand that nothing could be farther from the truth. But he had given her no opportunity to explain, and seemed unlikely to.

  If only he could see that the idea of marrying a total stranger was as distasteful to her as it appeared to be to him.

  As soon as that thought entered her mind, she tried to ignore the voice of doubt that rose in her heart. The one that reminded her of how often she had relived the hazy memory of Raynor’s lips moving against hers. Even though the image was not clear, the tightening of desire in her lower belly was more than sufficient reminder that she did not find this man completely abhorrent.

  Raynor swung around, probably to see if the small entourage was at last ready to leave. His gaze barely grazed Elizabeth, and her cheeks blazed as she stiffened in reaction. Her gaze followed the path of his as he took in the two loaded wagons. His tight lips told of his disapproval.

  God’s eyes, she thought angrily, straightening her slender shoulders. If he was going to treat her thus, she refused to let him see that it bothered her.

  Elizabeth knew that Raynor was thinking the wagons would slow his progress home, but there was nothing for it. She would not leave her household goods behind. The idea was unthinkable. As her husband, Raynor could fairly demand that she go where he told her, but he could not make her leave her belongings. Two of the four soldiers who had traveled to Windsor with Raynor and Bronic were to act as drivers. Their horses were tied securely to the back of the wagons.

  Raising his hand in a farewell to Stephen, Raynor urged his mount forward as a signal to the others.

  They started off.

  Elizabeth sent a last glance backward, waving to Stephen and the two servants who stood in the tiny yard before the whitewashed house that she would likely never see again. Her heart ached at the realization. For a long moment, Elizabeth did battle with feelings of uncertainty and fear of facing the future with a virtual stranger.

  She could feel Olwyn watching her closely from her seat in the lead wagon. She knew her companion was concerned for her. Over the past two days, the woman had tried repeatedly to speak with her mistress about what was happening, but Elizabeth had refused to be drawn out. Raising her chin, she avoided meeting Olwyn’s eyes. She needed all her strength to fight back the sting of tears, like shards of glass behind her eyes.

  Even at the early hour, many people came out to watch the passing entourage. The folk of Windsor were more than accustomed to the comings and goings of nobility, but never seemed to lose interest in watching them.

  More than once she saw fingers pointed at the rear wagon, where Elizabeth’s great bed rode in splendor. The cloth that had been draped around it to protect the massive piece of furniture from the elements did nothing to disguise it. Such a bed was a symbol of both position and wealth. Many of the nobility took their beds with them as they moved from one holding to another.

  As they rode along through the village, the streets grew busier. Their progress was slow, which, judging from the frown on his face each time they halted to let a group of travelers or a loaded wagon pass, clearly irritated Raynor.

  It was only as they started down the more open road outside the town itself that Raynor appeared to relax a little. After a time, he began to converse quietly with Bronic, who rode beside him.

  Elizabeth didn’t want to admit it, but Raynor’s improved attitude caused her own stiff muscles to release some of their tension. Her buttocks, which had been aching with the tension of her body, relaxed in the saddle. She began to look around with some semblance of interest.

  It was a fine, clear April day, despite the unseasonable morning chill. After the first couple of hours, their breath could no longer be seen as they went along. As the sun climbed higher in the blue sky, Elizabeth’s sable-lined cloak began to grow overwarm, and she let it slip down from her shoulders to lie ov
er the horse’s white rump in a splash of scarlet color.

  Now they saw few other travelers, only an occasional cart filled with produce. No words were exchanged with the drivers, who moved aside with meekly bowed heads and allowed the nobleman and his party to pass.

  The fields beside the road were covered with the short green sprouts of new grain, which strained toward the sun. Oak, alder, ash and birch trees crowded the edges of the fields, offering up their own bright and tender buds in anticipation of the fullness of foliage to come. It was as if God were trying to tell her something with this joyous display of new beginnings. But Elizabeth could not be moved. Her own new life held no such promise of bounty.

  The few cottages they saw sat far back from the road; thus, the occasional bark of a dog or the sound of a raised voice seemed distant and disconnected to Elizabeth and her life.