‘You are so beautiful. You look perfect,’ her mother declared as her fingers fumbled with the small buttons and loops that had to be tugged together on her sleeves.
Jane stared into the polished mirror on the wall and saw her own face stiffen for a moment. A girl’s betrothal should be a bittersweet time, but she found no pleasure in these compliments, until her mind conjured up those blue eyes whose inscrutable calm she had disturbed. Her eyes softened when she noted her mother’s eyes were red. She had been crying—tears of happiness and pride. Jane hugged her mother close.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘A picture.’
Dressed in a lovely gown of dove-grey satin and a gauzy white wimple completely swathing her neck and part of her face, and a silvery veil trailing down her shoulders, her mother held her at arm’s length, noting her ashen face. ‘And you are nervous, I can tell. Which is quite normal. I have no doubt that the earl is just as nervous as you are.’
Jane didn’t think so. Guy’s life wouldn’t change. He would continue to live in his castle and enjoy his country pleasures and his occasional journey to court. For her, everything would change. Nothing would ever be the same again. This was the day when she would cross into adulthood, when she would climb a precipice so steep and so treacherous that if she stumbled she would be sent tumbling into the abyss.
The sudden lift to Jane’s heart when Guy arrived with Cedric and four of his fellow knights by his side was quickly followed by nervous dread. For reasons she could not name, seeing him gave rise to thoughts she’d been valiantly struggling to avoid. He was most splendidly attired in scarlet and gold and jewels. He lit up the hall that was tense with expectancy like a beacon of light.
He smiled graciously, his gaze sweeping over the small party of guests, who, after much curtsying and bowing, now stood silently respectful, eager to feast their eyes on the Earl of Sinnington, who, as it turned out, was such a devastatingly handsome, devastatingly masculine male.
‘We’re deeply honoured, my lord,’ Simon Lovet said, his face pink with gratification. He was so puffed up with pride he was unable to contain his pleasure.
After greetings and compliments all round, now the moment had arrived for her to plight her troth, Jane felt ill prepared. Though she had agreed to marry Guy St Edmond, she had thought little of what marriage to such a powerful man and living at Sinnington Castle entailed. But as she became snared by Guy’s gaze, his eyes drawing her in, all other thoughts fled her mind.
Sensing her trepidation, Guy reached out a hand to her, a large hand, his long fingers encrusted with bejewelled gold rings. ‘Jane? Are you willing to plight your troth to me?’
With the eyes of everyone upon her, she took his hand and let him draw her towards where the priest stood, waiting to hear them make their solemn promises. Just as she was about to reply, the sun came out and shone through the open glass windows. For a moment she forgot what she had to say. There was a circle of light on the stone floor beneath her feet—a good omen, surely, she hoped.
‘Yes,’ she answered at last. ‘I do.’
Everyone in the room took a deep breath and the tension receded.
‘And I pledge my troth to you.’ He squeezed her hand. His expression softened a little. ‘Give me your hand.’
The fingers on her left hand were stiff and he had to prise them open. The warm grasp sent unwanted shivers up her arm. With his free hand he took a jewelled box from his doublet and flicked it open. A magnificent gold ring encrusted with emeralds rested on a bed of white velvet. It was the most beautiful ring Jane had ever seen. Unaware that she was holding her breath, she watched as he took it out and placed it on her third finger. Perhaps it was all that the ring implied or the combination of gentleness and solemnity in Guy’s deep-blue eyes as they gazed into hers, but whatever the cause, Jane’s heart rate doubled and her eyes misted with tears.
‘It belonged to my paternal grandmother,’ he commented as if she had asked. ‘I want you, Jane. Not as a countess and not as a mistress. I want you just as a woman—as my woman. As my wife.’
Jane was strangely warmed, but not completely assured by the endearment, believing his statement was directed at her family and guests. And yet she was caught for a moment by a yearning so strong and physical she found it hard to draw breath. How easy it would be to let appearances slip into reality. Guy was handsome, the most handsome man she had ever seen. Even if none of the gentler emotions such as love were present, they could still have a marriage. Who could predict what miracles the future might bring?
‘And now,’ he said, ‘a kiss to seal the bargain.’
Favouring Jane with that slow, careful scrutiny that made her feel devoured, he drew her into his arms and kissed her slowly, deliberately, on the mouth. Fire shot through her and, as she gasped, her lips opened under his. His lips moved gently, but insistently against hers, as if he were determined to remember the moment. In that instant she felt the hardness of his body under the scarlet surcoat and melting sweetness flower through her bones, depriving her of strength. Guy, feeling her yield, tightened his arms to support her. Then he released her and laughed.
‘Your daughter’s lips taste as sweet as honey, Master Lovet.’ He was impatient for the day when he could drink his fill. ‘She will make a beautiful bride.’ He laughed lightly to hide a perplexing emotion he had felt as Jane’s lips opened under his. Not desire, nor surprise that her body should be so supple, so tender, so soft, though all these thoughts had come to him, but a strange new impulse to protect—to possess for himself all she had to offer.
‘This is an excellent day’s work,’ Simon said. ‘To a happy and rewarding marriage. May God grant the two of you a blessed and fruitful life together, and may your firstborn be a boy.’
He clapped his hands for wine to be poured to toast the match and their firstborn son. Jane lifted the goblet to her lips, but she did not drink. She would not hope for a boy and give her betrothed more confidence in himself. She noticed, however, that he drank the wine down quite easily and she eyed him distastefully. His taunting smile seared her and brought a rush of angry colour to her cheeks. He was laughing cruelly at her and her pride was stung. Jutting her chin defiantly, she glared at him before looking away.
Lowering his head to hers, his warm breath fanning her cheek, seeming to enjoy her distress, he murmured, ‘We do not fool each other, do we, Jane? Neither of us wanted or asked for this marriage, but now we have plighted our troth we are stuck with it. You cannot escape me. I have a very possessive nature. In a short time you will be mine in every way, so smile and let everyone see how happy you are.’
Chapter Five
With little left to be proud of, Jane sat beside her betrothed while family and friends clustered round and offered enthusiastic congratulations and drank to their health. Despite the conversation between Jane and Guy being limited and stilted, it was a happy, lively meal with banter and descriptions of the latest tournaments and feasts at court.
When everyone had eaten their fill and the minstrels began to play, Guy stood up and held his hand out to Jane.
‘May I have this dance, Jane?’
She hesitated, her eye catching three of her pretty female cousins gaping like astonished fish at the handsome earl. Having no wish to dance with him and knowing he was only asking her because it was expected of them and to needle her ire, keeping her voice low, she said, ‘You honour me with your request, but would you not enjoy dancing with another choice of partner?’
‘Since I know no other lady here but you, Jane, and your mother,’ he said equally as quiet, ‘I asked you hoping beyond reason your kind heart would take pity on a clumsy soldier and keep him from appearing a total oaf amongst the locals.’
Jane scowled at him. How cleverly he’d turned the tables. Guy St Edmond might not have a talent for dancing, as he claimed, but his persuasive skills were of the highest order. ‘How clever you are,’ she murmured. ‘Clearly you have been born to be a diplomat.’ When he held out his
hand to her once more, he left her with no choice but to take it. Everyone faded into the background. All she was aware of was her betrothed’s eyes holding hers until she felt her own cheeks flush beneath his regard. She was conscious of an unwilling excitement. In fact, much to her annoyance, she was very much aware of everything about him.
The moment she took his hand, Guy was leading her into the quickly forming circle as couples young and old merged together. To her surprise, caught up in the music and merriment, Jane found she was laughing—a laugh of pure animal joy as, floating like thistledown, her feet matched his in the simple steps of the dance. They separated as the pattern of the dance required, coming together and joining hands repeatedly. Her face glowed as she danced and romped her way through first one dance and then another—a lively farandole, doing a sprightly jig or a tapping of a toe and heel. Guy watched as she skipped round the room in spirals, joined him to pass under arches of hands and weaving in and out, all the while their eyes darting to each other.
Guy was fascinated by her lightheartedness. Her hair tumbled freely as a maiden’s should—for until she had been bedded that’s what she was. Her pink lips cried out to him for kisses, her smooth, creamy skin glowing beneath the softness of the candlelight, beckoned his trembling fingers to touch and caress. Never before had he felt such a response on merely looking at a maiden.
At one point his strong arms lifted her high and with such ease she might have been made of thistledown, his big hands spanning her fragile ribcage. It was as she hovered over him, looking down into his eyes, that he saw the flush on her face and sensed her breathing stop and felt a momentary wonder.
The festivities over, people began making their farewells and wending their way home. With a long ride ahead of them, Guy and his companions bade them all goodnight. Cedric went outside to prepare their horses. Taking Jane’s hand, Guy led her through the large hall to the darkened doorway where they were hidden from view.
She looked up at him to bid him farewell. Perhaps it was the wine she had consumed or the fact that her head was still in a dizzying whirl from dancing too much, for she misjudged the distance separating them and collided with his chest. His strong arm encircled her, steadying her. She could have drawn away, but instead she stood there, her heart beating hard as his blue eyes slid to her lips, lingering on them for an endless moment. Then he purposefully lowered his head.
His mouth opened boldly over hers, his hands sliding intimately over her back and then her hips, moulding her tightly to his muscular frame. Taken by surprise by his sudden ardour, Jane stiffened, but then slid her arms shyly about his waist and returned his kiss, glorying in the feel of his lips on hers and his hard body pressed to hers.
Dizzily, she finally pulled away, and then was disappointed that he released her so readily. Her traitorous body was already throbbing to experience another kiss. Unable to trust herself, she stepped back. She must learn to fight these wanton urges, bring them under control, for she could not, must not, risk her heart. Guy raised one well-defined brow, watching her. He seemed to know exactly what was going on in her mind.
But Guy would have none of it. His freedom was of the utmost importance to him—he had no time for affairs of the heart. A man who loved too well was vulnerable.
Life passed quietly for the next four weeks. Wrapped up in his work on the estate, Jane saw nothing of Guy. In the meantime she busied herself preparing for her new role in life as the wife of a powerful man. There was much to learn and, in truth, more responsibility involved than she had expected. Guy knew it was important that she understood how the castle was run and to get to know the people who worked there. Thinking about it too much started panic boiling in her veins, so she shoved all her fears aside with a will. Her mother laughed at her, telling her she was more than capable and that she would learn as time went on.
Jane desperately hoped so. She would try to be a good wife to Guy, a good mother to his children. She would be his helpmate, if she could. At the very least she would learn to manage his house, and perhaps, she thought wistfully as she brushed her hair, they might, in time, deal well together. They were not much alike, yet many couples began life together with less in common that she and Guy shared. And he had a sense of responsibility. The way he had leaped to the defence of her reputation to save her from disgrace proved that. He was honest as well—to the point of bluntness—and his intelligence she had already noted. Even his rugged vitality was something she found attractive.
Perhaps if she worked at it, theirs could still be a good marriage.
By the time she had arranged her silken tresses into a braid and gone down to the hall, about to seek out her mother in the undercroft, on hearing a soft footfall, she turned quickly to find the imposing figure of Guy stood just behind her.
He was a towering, masculine presence in the low-ceilinged hall. He wore the same grim expression she had seen when he had agreed to marry her. His rugged features were a mask of stone.
‘Why—G-Guy,’ she stammered, extremely uncomfortable with the dark way he was regarding her, his gaze narrowed and assessing.
The corner of his mouth twisted wryly in a gesture that was not quite a smile. ‘I presume our engagement gives me the right to speak to you privately.’
‘Of course. My father is not at home and my mother is busy in the undercroft.’
‘I’m here to escort you to the castle. I trust that is in order?’
‘Yes—yes, of course.’
‘It’s about time you saw where you are to live. And don’t look so worried, Jane. I don’t intend to ravish you. That’s what precipitated this mess—my desire to bed you—and I’m not fool enough to repeat it.’
Jane didn’t know what to say to his declaration, so she excused herself to inform her mother what she was about and to order one of the grooms to saddle her horse. She wore a cape for the day was cool and overcast. They spoke little as they rode.
As they neared the castle the road traced the crest of a hill for a space of time. The exterior of Sinnington Castle was familiar to Jane, who had ridden this way many times, but she never failed to gaze in awe at the sight of it. An aura of the rosy light of early morning still settled upon the western sky and in the distance the silhouette of the castle stood in stark contrast against the soft, billowing clouds that clustered close over the horizon. With its turrets and high ramparts and the sinister rooks perched above the gatehouse, it was a forbidding structure.
Guy pulled his horse to a halt. ‘There it is, Jane—soon to be your new home. What do you think?’
Her eyes were alight with pleasure as she turned to look at him. ‘It is a wondrous place, but then, I always thought so. It must seem strange to be back after being away so long.’
‘Eight years is a long time. As you will see for yourself there is much to be done—although I suppose we must be thankful its crumbling walls are due to neglect and not warfare. I am enthusiastic and committed to make changes. I intend to have an architect and builders working on it very soon.’ He looked at her. ‘I’m sure any ideas you can come up will be appreciated.’
Jane studied his chiselled profile, realising she scarcely knew him at all. ‘I wouldn’t be much use. I know nothing about building castles.’
He smiled. ‘Neither do I. But we can learn together—after the wedding.’
‘Is—is it to be a large affair?’ she asked, hoping against hope that royalty had not been invited.
Seeming to read her mind, he shook his head. He was smiling no longer. Jane saw before her the firm features and hard eyes, which the sunlight had turned to steel. A frown darkened his attractive face and his eyes looked on hers with a cool cynicism.
‘Worry not, Jane. Let us not fool ourselves. This marriage is not what either of us wanted. It will be a small affair without fuss. Friends and gentry from around Cherriot Vale, and your own family, have been invited. The only family I have is my mother.’
Jane’s surprise deepened. This was the first hint she’
d had of any living St Edmond kin and she lifted a wondering brow at him. ‘Your mother?’
‘You will meet her in good time.’
‘Will she be at the wedding?’
‘It’s most unlikely.’
‘Why not?’
‘She does not travel well. When my father died she remarried a gentleman by the name of Lord Courcy. His house, Rosemead, is close to London. My mother had a place at court and used to flit between one and the other, but since Lord Courcy died and she is no longer able—having taken a nasty tumble from her horse some time ago—every saint’s day and holiday she invites the court to go to her at Rosemead. You see, her desire for enjoyment has not diminished, which is why she surrounds herself with her friends and entertains on a regular basis.’
‘She seems an interesting lady. I’m looking forward to meeting her.’
‘You will, very soon, I promise you.’
‘Is she aware of our marriage?’
He nodded. ‘I have written informing her. She’ll be happy that I’ve decided to settle down at last and provide the St Edmonds with an heir.’
His careless reminder of her role in his life and what was expected of her diminished Jane’s spirit, but she gave no sign of this as she fixed her gaze on the castle. Considering the distance and reserve between them at this time as both entered warily into this new phase of their lives, she dared not tweak his temper any more than she had possibly done already. Though she had glimpsed his unyielding tenacity only once, and that during his confrontation with Richard, she had nevertheless been left with the impression that there were definite limits to what Guy St Edmond would tolerate.
The Devil Claims a Wife Page 9
