Bessie

by Jackie Ivie

  “Not when every other female has been here, no.”

  “You’ll hold my own words against me? That isn’t very generous of you.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, you seem to have changed a bit toward me. I’m not certain I like it.”

  “You’d best learn to, then.”

  “If you don’t set me down this instant, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? Lift your veil and turn me to stone?”

  “I don’t wish to be in your arms, Devon. I hate to disappoint you, but it’s not comfortable.”

  His lips twisted. Her heart seemed to do the same. “It’s not comfort I’m leaning toward, Mistress. You wished me in your bed. Well. Perhaps, tonight will be the night.”

  “I’ve changed my mind about it.”

  “What?”

  “Is that hard to believe?”

  “With the way you act? Yes.”

  “Of all the nonsense! I’d as soon travel alone than have to put up with your presence another instant.”

  “You’d rather I rode my steed, Black-Heart?”

  “Your horse is named after yourself? How...original.”

  His grin broadened. Bessie was afraid of what that meant. He bent his head at the same time that he lifted her toward him. Her eyes widened and she caught her breath. She thought about struggling, but it would have been useless. She knew that from last night.

  He touched his nose to one side of hers, pushing the netting against her skin.

  “Purse your lips,” he whispered.

  “What?” She was amazed she had a voice.

  “I can’t find your mouth, otherwise.”

  “I insist that you set me back, Devon. I really do. I can’t fathom why you’d—”

  “Keep talking. I think I can find you that way.”

  He was nuzzling his lips against hers. Bessie very nearly screamed at it. Barring last night, it was the closest she’d ever been to him. She’d thought him enraptured by thoughts of the red-headed maiden, yet here he was, making love to his own wife! She’d no idea he was this fickle.

  Wait a moment. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted?

  The carriage shuddered over another rut at the same time Devon tried to kiss her. The clash of his teeth against her lip hurt. It looked to have had the same effect on him, for he pulled back as if stung.

  She watched him narrow his eyes to hide the moisture. He blinked rapidly and looked away for a moment. She knew it had hurt him worse than her, for his mouth was barely healed.

  Then, he turned back to her.

  “You didn’t need to bite me.”

  “It wasn’t me. It—” Bessie came to her senses, and stopped the rest of her words. If what had happened halted Devon’s assault, so much the better. Who was she to argue? She sucked on her own injured lower lip, and waited.

  “It wasn’t you? Truth?” Devon licked at the trickle of blood on his split lip after he’d asked it.

  “The road is full of holes, my lord.”

  “I’ll see it groomed. I’ve a thousand pounds, sterling, now.”

  Bessie sighed. “That again? Very well. Yes. I agree. You have silver. Now, will you please set me on my own side.”

  “You’re not going to congratulate me?”

  “Why? It was a small field.”

  He sucked on his cheeks. Bessie had to avert her eyes.

  “You’re determined to unman me, aren’t you?”

  “Very well, Lord Hildebrand. Hold me the entire ride. There’s not much left of it, anyway. I can’t sway you otherwise, although I thought you disliked being near me.”

  “Lack of a woman can do strange things to a man, I’m for thinking. But you knew that when you threatened me, didn’t you?”

  “I’ve since admitted to my own stupidity, haven’t I? Allow me to get more comfortable.”

  Bessie stretched against his arms and lifted herself from his lap at the same time. She wasn’t going to give in to the small bubble of delight being in his arms brought to her. Every bit of her tingled. She wondered if he suspected it.

  “Perhaps I’d best set you aside for now.”

  His voice caught. She smiled. That motion hurt her split lip. She drew it into her mouth. It wouldn’t do if she bled on the veil. She’d have to discard it.

  That was an enticing thought.

  She cast it aside quickly.

  If he knew the wench he’d met, and the woman he’d wed, were one and the same, there was no telling what he’d do. She refused to give him the whole truth easily. If he found out, he’d have nearly everything, and she’d have what? A man none could trust. She’d have to watch his every movement and ignore how it felt to be deceived. She had some experience in that now. She didn’t need a repeat. So. If she gave him the truth, she’d have a man who would betray his own monarch, the most powerful woman in the world.

  Who was Bessie in comparison?

  “What have you done to your neck?”

  Bessie was so grateful for the veil, she nearly cried out. It hid her instant reaction. She’d forgotten the marks his kisses had left on her. It hadn’t seemed worth the time to find a dress with a neckline high enough to cover the bruising.

  It was bad enough she wore one of her most expensive gowns. It was fashioned of light blue satin and had silver thread embellishing all the slashes. It didn’t require a collar. She hadn’t wanted to wear it, but she hadn’t time to argue when Augusta had brought it. Of course, Bessie had little choice on the matter when Roberta showed her the wine stain that came from spilling an entire goblet across the skirt of the brown dress during the feast.

  Roberta couldn’t explain away the disappearance of the thick, concealing veil, though. The woman’s tricks were for naught. Bessie had simply fashioned a replacement using one of the table linens. She hadn’t thought to make it long enough to cover her neck. Why should she? How could she have known that Devon would hold her prisoner in his arms, and look over any part of her that he desired? He’d not given her any sign that he even wished to touch her!

  “Well?”

  Bessie cleared her throat. “The attendants at Stansbury are lax, just as you said. The one crimping my hair, held the iron too close.”

  “You have hair, then?”

  “Yes, and I curl it at times.”

  “Is it long?”

  “Aye.”

  “You’ve got it braided. I can feel it. What color is it?”

  “Gray,” she answered.

  “As I’ve already made mention of that Sir Gadfly’s words about your age, let me assure you that I’m not amused. I know you are younger than I am. Hair doesn’t gray that quickly.”

  “Very well, Devon. It’s a dull shade of brown.”

  “It’s not red?”

  Bessie put her finest acting into the reaction. She giggled. “Oh please, Devon. Surely there aren’t many women in the kingdom with such a shade. You already know of the queen, and now there’s that wench from the village. She may have a sister, though. Did you ask her when you had the chance?”

  Another lunge of the carriage lifted them both into the air. Bessie’s squeal of surprise was drowned out by his grunt as she fell atop him on the carriage floor. It was his fault her elbow hit him in his ribs. He was the one who hadn’t allowed her to rise.

  “Are you always so gentle with your enticements, Mistress? First you bloody my lip, and now you bruise my innards. Is this the way you rid yourself of your spouses?”

  “I was unlucky with them.”

  “This is luck? I may not survive much longer in your company. I swear I’ve not been as bruised since knight training.”

  “It’s your fault. You wouldn’t let me go.”

  “You’re free to rise, now. I’ll not...stop you.”

  He was having trouble speaking since her knee was in his stomach. The carriage wasn’t moving, but that wasn’t helpful. Everywhere she touched seemed to be another portion of Devon.

  “Wait. We’re not moving. It’s just as well. I’d rat
her walk.”

  “I’ve a mount, remember? Damnation! Leave me a bit of my manhood! Ah!”

  Bessie slid onto her bench, averting her face as his contorted in agony. She hadn’t meant to step where he was holding.

  “I admit defeat! I must have imbibed too much. You’re obviously not the wench from my dreams, withal the marks on your neck. You’re nothing but a witch of uncertain looks and nasty words! It was stupid of me to forget.”

  “Don’t take your temper out on me.”

  “Who else am I supposed to take it out on, then?”

  “Perhaps you could hold it inside, for a change?”

  “You’ve harmed me more than you know, Mistress. Kindly keep your words to yourself until I’m able to stand again.”

  The door opened and the driver looked in.

  “Begging your pardon, but the carriage can go no farther, my lord and lady.”

  “Thank God,” Devon replied.

  “Perhaps you should have padded your codpiece, Devon,” Bessie said sweetly.

  The coachman grinned as she finished. He had to put his hand over his mouth to hide it. Devon lifted his head and glared at her. His nostrils flared with each breath. Bessie’s eyes widened. He was even more amazing-looking than he’d been yesterday after winning the tournament, if it were possible.

  “I may not offer you a seat beside me, Mistress.”

  “Well. I may not accept it, even if you offer.”

  “Then, you’re walking.”

  “That’s gallant of you. What should I tell anyone that happens upon me?”

  “That your husband set you aside.”

  “Are you going to do that?”

  He didn’t answer because he was lifting a very long, wavy, recognizably red hair from the area near the top of his hose. Bessie’s heart lodged into her throat as he looked from it to her.

  “The least you could have done was cleaned yourself off, Devon,” she said in as cold a tone as possible.

  He didn’t answer; he simply started winding the hair about his index finger, his gaze never leaving hers. “Is my horse still tied, my good man?”

  “He had an easier time with the bumps, my lord.”

  Devon was talking to the coachman, but he was watching her. Bessie didn’t blink. Breathe. Move.

  “Bring him around to the door. He’s docile.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  The man was chuckling. Devon turned from her finally and looked out the doorway. Bessie tensed for his angry words.

  “Don’t tarry. We’ve still some distance to ride. I’m not certain how well I’ll manage it, either.”

  His calm, warm tone surprised her. She couldn’t imagine what the driver thought of it.

  “Will you need help mounting him?”

  “I’ll probably need help mounting my next woman,” Devon replied.

  Their coachman laughed openly. Bessie nearly joined him. She had to put her hand to her mouth to stay it.

  “I shouldn’t laugh overlong, if I were you, Mistress. I may not be able to hold the reins. Are you an able rider?”

  “I can hold a seat,” she answered defensively.

  “Good. Can you control a war-horse?”

  “I’ve been married four times, haven’t I?”

  “Don’t make me laugh. Oh. Blast.”

  He groaned as he gripped himself, and Bessie lost control. She laughed until her sides ached. Tears spilled from her eyes. She’d never laughed that hard. Ever.

  “You will pay that back, Mistress. I swear it. I do.”

  She heard him, but ignored it. It would be worth it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Your castle does not appear to be getting closer, Hildebrand.”

  “That is because we’re skirting it.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve not had the chance to check the lands the queen gave to me. It’s quite extensive, isn’t it?”

  “It’s leagues of swamp.”

  “True. But it is my swamp. I’ve never owned much. ’Tis a strange feeling. I look about...and appear to own everything I can see.”

  He waved his arm, turned his back to her, and his voice deepened. Bessie’s heart did a somersault. Or something as implausible.

  “Except Stansbury, of course. The Hall does own the hillside. Cannot change that. I used to ride here when I was young and think foolish things.”

  “Like what?”

  “You don’t wish to hear.”

  “I wouldn’t ask it, if I didn’t wish to hear.”

  “Have you any siblings, Mistress? You know, I have been thinking. That’s an impersonal title. I could be implored to call you something simpler, like...Bess, if you continue holding to me this way.”

  Bess sucked in a breath. She didn’t know what change had come over Devon, but it was making it much more difficult to continue hating him.

  “I shall fall, otherwise.”

  “You’ve a caress to your touch, then. Anyone else riding pillion holds to my belt, not about my waist.”

  “As I’ve rarely ridden, let alone double, I think I’ll stay just as I am. I am not that confident of your ability.”

  “You say that after seeing my win yesterday? Why...my destrier and I are like one. Aren’t we, Black-Heart?”

  The horse snorted, as if answering. Bess peered from behind Devon.

  “You pulled on his rein.”

  “You’re an observant sort, too, aren’t you? I’m not certain I’m fond of that. Unless it’s directed toward me, of course.”

  “Are you always this vain?”

  “With good reason, I think. Watch this.”

  Devon lifted the reins and his horse broke into a canter. Bess gripped harder about Devon’s waist. She was still holding him when the horse slowed to a walk again.

  “You see?” he asked.

  “Very good. I watched. He is well trained. Are you responsible?”

  “Of course. I’m good at that, too.”

  “Too?”

  “Oh please, Bess. Grant me one thing in a wife. One. At least look to your husband with a slight bit of awe. I’m used to that from the fairer gender, you know.”

  “Not from me. I’ve lived my entire life at court. The last thing I do is look at courtiers with awe. I am not fond of the punishment.”

  “So you say. But I think you must have looked at me oft. And been caught at it. That might explain our union, would it not? How did you manage such a feat shrouded as you are?”

  “You really are hard of hearing, aren’t you? I did not want anything to do with you.”

  “And I believe you, too.”

  The horse snorted, as if on cue. Bessie looked around Devon again. He glanced sidelong at her and winked. She had no choice but to dart back behind him.

  “Are you ever...unsure?” she asked.

  He shrugged. Her arms moved up and down with the motion. Bess tried ignoring the play of his stomach muscles beneath her forearms and palms. It didn’t work. She nearly sighed.

  “I have plenty of enemies. They naysay me enough. If I do not believe in myself, who will?”

  “Oh. My. I never thought of it from that angle. You’ve a deep side you keep hidden, don’t you?”

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “You may get me looking at you with awe, yet, Devon. I’m not certain how to go about it, though.”

  “I don’t suppose your previous husbands garnered such a reaction, then?”

  “I don’t...recollect much about them, actually. If you must talk, can it be of other things, please?”

  “Very well. What did you do with your brown dress? Burn it?”

  “I spilled an entire goblet of wine on it.”

  “Oh. Good idea. I like this one better. Does it match your eyes?”

  Bessie looked down at the light blue skirt. “Maybe someday you’ll find out,” she whispered.

  “Never mind, then. I have decided not to force you. When you wish to show me, I’ll deal with it then.”
/>
  “Perhaps you should spur your horse. We won’t get there before nightfall at this rate.”

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “It will be cold.”

  “Hold to me. I’ll warm you.”

  To her utter amazement, she squelched a cry that seemed to come from the depths of her being. It made her voice shake. Completely unsure. “What has brought about such a change? You...didn’t want my touch but two nights ago.”

  “Perhaps your threat has worked. I’ve been too long without a woman. And I am still a man, despite your earlier efforts in the carriage.”

  “Two nights is too long?”

  “Where did you get your estimation of my abilities? More like two seasons. Maybe more.”

  “But—you said—? What about the women you listed off to me?”

  “Did you believe me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then it worked.”

  “What? It wasn’t true? I can’t believe—. You truly didn’t—?”

  “Nor, can you finish a decent sentence. That is a welcome change.”

  “You surprise me, Devon.”

  “The thought of a celibate state surprises you more than the idea of licentiousness?”

  “You truly didn’t comport with those other ladies?”

  “Of course not. With all the spies the queen pays, I’d have lost my head.”

  “I told you that was the reason behind our marriage. Is that why you lied?”

  “Please, Bess, that’s a harsh word for it. I didn’t have to confess, you know.”

  “It’s still a lie.”

  “You’re the persistent sort, too? I should have known. I said those things because I was angered. Bewildered. Out-of-sorts. I did not even know you. I wanted to get a reaction. Actually, I was trying to get to the truth. I still am.”

  “I told you the truth.”

  “You never lie?”

  “Why would I?”

  “If you say your hair is brown and your eyes are blue, I can take it for truth?”

  Sickness hit her belly, putting a hitch in her breath, a start to her heart. Bess waited a few moments before answering. “I didn’t quite hear that, I’m afraid.”

  “Really? Perhaps you should sit in front, instead of lazing about on poor Black-Heart’s flanks. That can’t be too comfortable for one as small as you.”

  “You didn’t want me in front, remember? You were afraid of further injury...to your...uh.”