Velvet Bond

by Catherine Archer

  Nigel’s lips tightened for a moment, but he took a deep breath, then smiled sadly. “For that much, I must thank you, Lady Elizabeth. It will indeed ease my mind to know little Willow has you with her.”

  Then he went on, his gaze directed at the ground, and again she had the feeling that what he was saying was terribly painful for him to admit. “But I am a lonely man, with Louisa gone from this life. Willow is all I have in the world, and I've never so much as seen the little one. Just once, I wish to hold her in my arms. It would be like having a small piece of my sister returned to me. That is why I took my case before the king. Your husband refused me any access to her whatsoever. I had hoped Edward would understand my need to be with my niece. But the king did not listen to me.” Harrington’s voice rose in what appeared to be anger, but he quickly squelched it, shaking his head slowly. “His Majesty only heard Warwicke. He refused to see how much having the child would mean to me.”

  Elizabeth fidgeted in confusion. She had no idea why Raynor would deny Nigel Harrington even some small access to his dead sister’s child. He seemed nothing but a lonely and hurting shell of a man.

  Remembering the way Raynor had confessed his feelings for Louisa, Elizabeth could only think that Raynor was determined to keep his beloved’s child to himself.

  An idea crept into Elizabeth’s mind. Mayhap she could do something to make Raynor change his mind about allowing Nigel to see Willow. That might teach him a lesson about sharing love, rather than clutching it so close.

  She said, “I could speak to my husband on your behalf.”

  Nigel leaned toward her, his eyes alight with some inner fire. “Oh, if only you could, dear lady. Would that you could help us make some truce.”

  She raised a cautioning hand. “I must tell you true, before you take too much hope. I have little influence with my husband, and fear he will not heed what I ask of him.”

  With raised brows, Nigel looked at her with flattering disbelief. “It is difficult for me to believe that such a lovely woman could have so little influence upon her husband. Be assured that were you mine, I would move heaven and earth to gain you your way.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. This kind of ingratiating flattery was not unknown to her, thus she did not take it to heart. Her real concern was with making him see that he should not set his sights upon her ability to make Raynor change his mind. She said, “I do not speak out of false modesty, my lord Harrington. I tell you fact.”

  “Nonetheless,” he told her, “I shall remain optimistic. This is the first sign of hope I have had. You must allow me that.”

  Elizabeth pulled up her reins. “As you will.” Then she paused, as something else occurred to her. “How came you to be here this day? It is an odd thing that we should meet.”

  He looked down at his hand, where it rested on the pommel of his saddle. “I have a confession to make. I often ride close to Warwicke, hoping against hope that I will get even a small glimpse of the child.” He looked at her, his eyes ingenuous. “It was only fortune that made your path cross mine.”

  Elizabeth studied him, wanting to warn Nigel again not to be too hopeful, then thought better of it. Who was she to rob another of hope? “I shall send word when I have news.”

  “I will take nary a breath in anticipation,” he said.

  She realized there was nothing she could say that would dull his enthusiasm, so there was no point in continuing to try. She only hoped Harrington was not setting himself up for a grave disappointment. He did not understand as clearly as she how little her husband valued her opinions.

  Glancing upward, she saw the sun had climbed high overhead. “I have tarried long enough,” she said. “I must return to Warwicke. I will be late for the meal as it is.”

  He did not try to detain her. “Again you have my thanks,” he told her. “Go with God.”

  “Goodbye,” she told him, and turned to ride for home.

  For a moment after she left him, Elizabeth felt a glimmer of hope that she might actually succeed, despite her pessimism with Harrington. She clung to a vision of Raynor embracing her as he spoke of his gratitude for her bringing the two families together and ending their feud. But deep inside, Elizabeth knew it was not likely to happen. Now that she was alone, without the sadness in Nigel’s eyes to prod her, Elizabeth knew her husband was not apt to even listen to her. She was a fool to have thought otherwise, even for a heartbeat. Raynor was angry enough with her. Any hint of perceived disloyalty was sure to feed his distrust and set him even more firmly against her.

  But she raised her head high, feeling the wind on her flushed face. She would not cower from doing what was right simply because Raynor would be angry. It was not in her to do so.

  Besides, it wasn’t as if she risked their relationship by doing this. They had none to risk.

  She relegated to the back of her consciousness the hope that this might bring her and Raynor closer together.

  * * *

  Elizabeth had resolved to broach the subject with her husband as soon as she had an opportunity. Unfortunately, one was not presented for several days.

  When Raynor did not wish to see her, he was a master at making himself unavailable.

  Finally Elizabeth knew she had to have it done or scream. With Olwyn acting as her scout, she waited up late one night. When the companion came to her with news that Raynor had returned to the keep, then gone to his chambers, Elizabeth gathered her courage about her and made her way there.

  She did not bother to knock, knowing her husband would only refuse her admittance.

  When she opened the door and stepped into his rooms, Raynor was seated before the fire, his long legs stretched out before him, a cup of wine in his hand. He started up from his slouched position as soon as he saw her.

  “What do you here?” he growled.

  She stood tall and straight, refusing to be intimidated. “I would have a word with you, my lord.”

  He set his cup on the floor and turned to face her. “Surely whatever you have to say can wait until the morrow. You are not welcome here.”

  A sharp stab of pain made her clench one fist to her chest. Then she told herself not to be foolish. She had expected no more from Raynor. Defiantly she faced him. “This will not wait, my lord. I have been trying to gain an audience with you for these four days now. It seems you are ever too busy.” She raised haughty black brows. “Or might it be that you are avoiding me, as usual?”

  Raynor had the grace to look abashed. There was no way for him to deny the truth of her charge. Avoiding her was exactly what he had been been doing since the night they had made love. He was completely confused about his own feelings. On the one hand, he knew Elizabeth was right. He did judge all women by his mother, but he could not bring himself to put those fears aside. It was a matter of self-preservation. No matter how much he might be tempted to see the good in Elizabeth, her care for Willow, her unselfish ability to work toward the good of Warwicke, the gentleness of her. All were overshadowed with doubt when he thought of her other traits. The stubbornness, willfulness and headstrong attitude that were also a part of her. How could he be certain those characteristic could be overcome?

  Wishing to see her gone as quickly as possible, Raynor nodded jerkily. “Have your say, then, and leave me in peace.”

  She came a few steps farther into the room, but was careful to keep a distance between them. For some inexplicable reason, this annoyed him. But he forced the feelings aside, telling himself not to be a fool.

  Elizabeth went on. “I want to ask you of a matter that I know will not please you....” She hesitated.

  He stiffened, then shrugged with irritation. “Then why are you here, madame?” He looked away from her, telling himself not to allow her to provoke him.

  She looked at him, her eyes meeting his challengingly. “Because it must needs be done. You do not frighten me, husband. I will not cower from a subject simply because you may not care to discuss it. What I do, I do because I feel it is right.�
�� Then she added hopefully, under her breath, “Mayhap when all is done you might have occasion to thank me.”

  He stared at her for a long moment that stretched her nerves to taut strings. Finally he nodded, and had she not known better, she would have sworn she saw admiration in his gaze.

  He motioned toward the chair he had vacated. “Then, by all means, do what you will.”

  She came toward him and sat in the proffered seat, then wondered at the wisdom of this when she looked up at him, so tall and powerful above her.

  He folded his arms over his broad chest. “Well?”

  “I want you to hear me out before you say anything,” she warned with a scathing glance. “I know you prefer not to listen to any other opinion besides your own, but this one time, you could try.”

  He scowled blackly, his dark brows meeting over his straight nose. “Get on with it.”

  She sat straighter in the chair and cleared her throat. “A few days ago, I was out riding, and I chanced upon a man.”

  His lips tightened. “A man?”

  “Yes, someone you know. He...he told me of a...problem he is having with you, and I offered to intercede with you on his behalf.”

  His eyes had become dark pools of suspicion. “I hope, Elizabeth, that you are not talking of the one I suspect. It would be most foolish of you to even mention that name in my presence, or even in this keep, as I have forewarned you.”

  She stood, facing him with equal heat. “Why, Raynor? Why do you hate Lord Harrington so?”

  His fist struck the wall near him with incredible force, and she saw blood appear on his knuckles. “I did warn you, woman. Why must you trespass where you are not wanted? Why must you meddle in affairs you do not understand?”

  “Then pray help me to understand, my lord, why you would so despise one who is lonely and alone, as Lord Harrington is. He wants nothing so much as to see Willow, yet you deny him that, for some selfish reason of your own.”

  Before she knew what was happening, she was caught in a viselike grip as Raynor’s hands closed on her shoulders. He drew her forward and up close to his face. As he leaned over her, his voice was filled with barely suppressed rage. “Harrington is not what he seems. If you have one jot of loyalty in you, you will hear me on this. I will not allow that man to see Willow. If you defy me this time, wife, you will pay. And I do not make that threat lightly.”

  She glared up at him, though her heart was pounding. “I told you, my lord husband, I do not fear you.” Why did he always react like this, before she had an opportunity to even try to fathom his reasons?

  He stared at her, fierce emotions flitting across his features with incredible speed. Then, as if he had fought some inner battle and won, he slowly took his hands from her shoulders, setting her away with finality. “I see that you do not.”

  He turned from her and walked several steps away. He did not look at her as he went on, and she could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “Elizabeth, I beg you. For your good and mine, and Willow’s—especially for Willow’s. As you love her, do not take this further. I will not ask you for promises. Obviously you feel no loyalty to me, and thus would not give them. But I plead with you, leave this lie. Louisa would turn over in her grave if she knew what you are trying to do.”

  Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She desperately wanted to comprehend, but he gave her no clue. “I want to do what is right, Raynor. If only you would tell me why it must be this way.”

  He shook his head. Without emotion, he replied, “I will not. I cannot.”

  She studied his broad back, shaking her head in defeat. “You will not let me into your life. You share nothing with me that helps me to understand you or makes me feel like a real wife. If you treated me at all as if I were a part of your world, it would help me to see things from your view, but you will give nothing.”

  Fighting feelings of betrayal, Raynor could not look at her, at the beauty and temptation of her. Her words barely registered in his mind, and not enough for comprehension. He’d known all along that Elizabeth would be trouble for him. That she would show her true colors eventually. Now that it was proving to be true, he felt no satisfaction in being right. Aligning herself with his worst enemy was surely the epitome of treachery.

  Disappointment rocked him. He spoke cruelly, out of his pain. “Did you really think that bedding you once would so bind me that I would be moved to do what you wanted? And why Harrington, of all people? Surely you could have found some more obviously selfish favor to beg of me. That I could understand. How could helping Harrington be of any benefit to you? Why would you deceive me in this way, Elizabeth, unless you were deliberately trying to hurt me?”

  “Deceive you?” she gasped. “I have not told you a falsehood since that day I said Stephen wanted you to dine alone with me. There was no deception here. I have come forward to tell you all. I offered to come to you because he was so sad, so alone. And I felt sympathy for him, not to hurt you. That is the simple truth.”

  A heaviness settled on his heart as Raynor heard her in silence. What about him? Why did she feel no sense of fealty toward her own husband? And as long as she had none, he could not trust her. What he would have given to trust someone, to love someone. Then Raynor stopped himself. He did not want her pity. But her loyalty he did have a right to expect.

  He knew Elizabeth did not know why he hated Harrington. But that did not absolve her. She was his wife. Her first loyalty should be to him and to Willow, whom she had accepted as if she were her own daughter. And Raynor did not doubt, no matter how much he distrusted Elizabeth, that her love for the child was real.

  Which only served to confuse him further.

  She must actually believe that Nigel’s seeing Willow was reasonable. His lips tightened. Did Elizabeth think Raynor such a petty man that he would hold such hatred against Nigel for no reason?

  He could not tell Elizabeth the truth. He had promised Louisa never to reveal Willow’s secret. And he meant to keep that vow, regardless of the cost to himself.

  As his wife, Elizabeth should be willing to let this go, as he asked.

  It was her duty.

  How could she ever expect him to trust her if she felt no such responsibility to do the same?

  Since the night they’d made love, Raynor had been lost in a sea of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he feared what it would be like to give in to his growing feelings for Elizabeth. On the other, he felt compelled to be with her, to hold her in his arms, to share his life with her.

  He’d realized shortly after leaving her that night that Elizabeth had not meant any wrong when she said he was hers. Considering the circumstances, it had simply been natural for her to feel some sense of his belonging to her.

  And therein lay the problem. For Elizabeth, the giving of oneself was a normal part of their being together. For Raynor, it was torment. Fearing to lose himself in her as he did, panic rose up to block his throat at the very thought.

  He’d not been able to go back and face her. The thought of belonging wholly to another had him as frightened as a boy in his first battle.

  That, coupled with this incident, made him even more certain it would be nothing short of emotional suicide to give in to these feelings he had for his wife.

  He kept his back to her, only allowing himself to turn when he heard the door open, then close. When he looked around, he was alone.

  And that was just what he wanted. Wasn’t it?

  * * *

  Elizabeth got little sleep that night.

  Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to shed them. Weeping would solve nothing.

  What she needed to do was think.

  This was her life, like it or nay. And Raynor was her husband. She had to find some way to make things better.

  No matter how hard she tried, she could not understand why Raynor was so dead set against Willow’s uncle. If only he would tell her something, give her some reason to believe he was behaving rationally.

&nbs
p; She knew in her own case that Raynor was completely blind when it came to the truth of who she was. He refused to see that she was nothing like his mother. Nothing she did or said could convince him otherwise.

  Was he being just as obstinate when it came to Nigel Harrington?

  But what gave her the most pause, and made her hesitate to take the matter any further, was what Raynor had said about Louisa.

  Why would Louisa wish to keep her own stepbrother from her child? Obviously they had been close at some time. This was evidenced by Lord Harrington’s obvious love for a little girl he’d never even seen.

  Elizabeth knew she had to find out.