‘Ah, Sinnington! How was the hunt? Productive, I hope.’
‘It went well, your Grace,’ Guy replied, at ease with the monarch. ‘You missed a treat. Two fine stags and a boar.’
‘I would have ridden with you but for affairs of state.’ He directed his gaze at Jane standing several paces behind. ‘And who is this, pray?’
Guy took Jane’s hand and drew her forward. ‘This fair lady is my wife Jane, the Countess of Sinnington.’
‘I thought as much.’
‘How?’
‘A lucky guess,’ the king countered smoothly.
King Edward was well loved by his people. Blond haired and over six feet tall, his amused eyes were fixed on Jane’s face, as if he knew a secret and couldn’t wait to divulge it. ‘Sinnington has spoken of you often, Lady St Edmond. I am happy to meet you at last. You are as lovely as he professed.’
On trembling legs Jane sank into a graceful curtsy. She could feel her cheeks burning, but she could not look away from him. ‘You are very kind, your Grace, but I fear my husband has a tendency to exaggerate.’
The king chuckled low. ‘Your wife is clearly a woman of delicate sensibilities, Sinnington.’
‘Do not be fooled, sire. She has the heart of a warrior when crossed.’
‘Then she is a woman after my own heart,’ the queen murmured, peering at Jane closely. ‘I am happy to meet you at last, Lady St Edmond. I have heard a good deal about you and I am interested to hear more. Come and sit with me when the meal is over. We will speak then.’
‘Yes, your Grace,’ Jane managed to say as she bowed, though she was dumbstruck and more than a little bewildered. What could she, Jane Lovet, possibly have to talk about to a queen?
When it was time to be seated for the banquet, with places for at least a hundred people, Lady Cecilia was helped to her seat at the garland-bedecked high table, Jane was seated beside Guy on her left, the king and queen in the centre of the table on her right. Jane could feel her husband’s presence with every fibre of her being and increasing comforting warmth suffused her. He was powerfully masculine, more attractive than any man present. His commanding presence was awesome, drawing the eye of everyone present. He was dashing, charming, handsome, a man any woman could easily be enamoured with.
Guests were served goblets of wine or tankards of ale, depending on their individual choices. A quartet of musicians played as an incalculable number of dishes was served: various meats, candied fruits, sweetmeats and oysters, and wines of all types from the darkest red to the clearest gold. The feast was extravagant, beyond anything Jane had yet seen. From then on she listened to the conversation going on around her with only one ear. The banquet swept past in a relaxed and congenial atmosphere.
Guy’s warrior instincts were stirred by the depths of his passion for his young wife. His desire to possess her and recapture what they’d had after their marriage was now stronger than ever. The battle to win back this woman might well turn out to be the fiercest of his life, but win her he would, no matter the cost.
Afterwards when Jane was summoned to speak to the queen, she found her courteous and pleasant. They spoke of the court and her children, the fashions and Jane’s background— the kind of things women talk about when they are relaxing together—but all the while she was acutely aware that Guy wasn’t far away. As soon as she had taken her place beside the queen, his stare had homed in on her and his blue eyes seemed to gleam.
‘Sinnington has spoken of you, and although your association with Lady Cecilia is of short duration, she speaks highly of you,’ Elizabeth said, raising the issue for this interview at last. ‘She agrees with Sinnington that I would benefit by having you in my household.’
Jane stared at her, somewhat bemused. ‘Your household, your Grace?’
‘As a lady of the chamber. I have several ladies who assist me in dressing and all manner of things. I am sure you would settle in very well.’
‘But—your Grace, I am a merchant’s daughter,’ Jane stammered, the suggestion that she live at Court an unappealing prospect. ‘Apart from visiting London with my father on occasion, I have never left Cherriot. I—I am deeply honoured by your offer—indeed, I could never have imagined such an honour—but I am completely ignorant of courtly ways and lack the experience you require.’
‘I see nothing wrong with nobles and merchants mixing together. It is, after all, important that we have a deeper understanding of each other.’ She rose and held out her hand, smiling softly. ‘I shall be delighted to welcome you at Westminster, Lady St Edmond. I am certain we shall both benefit from this arrangement.’
Jane dropped a curtsy and backed away, though through her anguish and fear another, stronger emotion was making it difficult for her to breathe—anger about all the planning, the secret arrangements made by Guy behind her back.
‘Well?’ Lady Cecilia asked, almost bursting with anticipation. ‘What did you talk about?’
‘The queen has summoned me to the royal court—to be a servant to her Grace. I really don’t know what to say—and my parents! They will be astonished.’
‘You must write to them. This is a great honour, Jane, and your parents will see it that way. Just think about it. You will live at the Palace of Westminster. You will be close to the king and queen. It is a wonderful thing.’
‘But why was I not warned so that I might be prepared for this? Guy should have discussed it with me at the very least.’
As the festivities progressed and she smiled and pretended to enjoy the festivities, with a feeling that she was being manipulated by her husband, anger and resentment simmered in her breast. She watched him seated at the high table. He was among a group of men, talking, drinking and laughing with the king. When a servant approached with a warm bowl to wash their hands, Guy’s easy assumption of his domineering role in her life did more than put her in a high temper. She was tempted to march up to him and pour the bowl of water over his arrogant head.
There were jugglers, acrobats and dancing dwarfs to entertain them and jolly music. Guy sat back in his seat, idly conversing with his fellow knights. His smile and words were all for them, but the hot glint in his eyes searched for and found Jane. They dwelt on her as she bent her head to listen to what Lady Cecilia was saying. He became distracted by the curve of her mouth, the soft swell of her pouting bottom lip and the curve of the upper one. He wanted to press his mouth to hers, to follow its shape with the tip of his tongue—as he had the last time he’d kissed her.
Heat burned in his blood. His groin hardened. He couldn’t have stood up, despite the covering of his tunic, or everyone would have noticed his predicament. He clenched his jaw. This was madness! Why did he torment himself like this? He drank deep of his goblet, trying to cast the sensations away. His moody glance about the hall at the merrymaking courtiers told him there were plenty of other beautiful women he could have. What was it about Jane—a woman who was less than confident of his integrity—that made him blind to all others?
He gulped more wine. As he lowered the goblet he realised Jane was looking at him. Though she was seated on another table, he could see those beautiful green eyes were anything but friendly. Having seen the queen speaking to her, he had a good idea why—that she was not as enamoured of moving to Westminster Palace and her new position as waiting woman to the queen as he thought she would be. Her eyes continued to burn into him. He raised his goblet to her and wondered how long it would take to turn her angry mood into panting desire.
There were times when he wished he had never laid eyes on her, for he could not put the thought of her out of his mind. Yet he did not want to. She sat there in her forest-green gown, the colour a perfect match for her eyes, and he knew in his heart that to put her from his mind was as impossible as stopping breathing. He wanted her badly. He wanted her as many times as he could have her, and there was a recklessness in his thoughts that was completely alien to his cautious nature.
He watched her being led by the hand by her
partner into a quickly forming circle as couples young and old merged together. The steps were simple enough to follow as she began to demonstrate her talents and abilities in time with the music, doing a sprightly jig or a tapping of a toe and heel as she moved around in a never-ending wheel of cavorting dancers, her smiling face evidence of the pleasure she was savouring.
Cursing softly, he summoned a hovering vassal for more wine and adjusted his tunic. This was ridiculous! He was behaving like a lovesick knave with his thoughts centred between his legs.
The hour was late when their majesties left. Those who had been inclined to think the banquet would be a solemn occasion were delighted that it changed into a very lively affair, obviously the sort the king and queen preferred.
Jane had smilingly accepted every invitation to dance, but throughout the festivities she had felt Guy watching her with a great deal of absorption. Still furious with him, she felt a great relief that he had not asked her to dance. To refuse outright would publicly dishonour him and herself, but her fierce pride ached to do precisely that. However, when he suddenly presented himself in front of her and made a courtly bow, inviting her to join him in a country dance, she found herself reaching out and taking his hand.
For several moments he swept her around the perimeter of the floor in ever-widening circles, leaving her to interweave with the other dancers and then coming back to her, relishing the music and her presence in silence. Then Jane peered up at him, her smile for the benefit of others.
‘This is rather bold of you, Guy, coming out into the midst of everyone to stake your claim on me. Did you want me for something in particular?’ she asked, hoping he would mention her new appointment to the queen, only to find he had other things on his mind.
Arching a brow, he grinned down at her. ‘Only to dance with my wife. I’d hardly call that bold, merely …’ he lifted his head and swept a thoughtful glance at the other dancers who were eyeing them curiously, then nodded decisively ‘… sensible.’
From beneath a fringe of silky black lashes, Jane shot him a glance that was somewhere between dubious and amused. Such a look made Guy smile in secret contentment. The idea of keeping his wife a bit uncertain as to how sensible he intended to be regarding his husbandly prerogatives was certainly not objectionable to him. All the same, he felt a nagging uncertainty when he saw her tilt her head back and meet his gaze with a determination of her own.
‘Jane, my love, I’m not overly jealous when I see other gentlemen dancing with my wife, but I look forward to the time when we can be alone.’ He went on to make soft, sensual suggestions in her ear until Jane flushed scarlet like a new bride. His proposals proved provocative, especially to Guy, who became increasingly dedicated to the idea of enjoying some marital intimacy later.
Jane’s breath caught in her throat at his softly spoken words. A moment later it escaped in a fluttering sigh as she gazed up at him. ‘You say the sweetest things, Guy, but now is not the time and I feel discomfited by the proximity of others. Later—when we have more privacy, there are things I will say to you—though I must warn you that you will find them far from sweet.’
It was much later when Guy let himself into the bedchamber after carousing with fellow knights long after Jane had gone to bed. He was renowned for being able to hold his drink, but tonight his head was spinning in an alcohol-fuelled haze. Casting a heavy-lidded gaze across the room, he observed the top of his wife’s head above the covers. Supposedly she was fast asleep.
Trying to make as little noise as possible, he stripped down to his black hose and shirt. He was about to remove them when she stirred and sat bolt upright, blinking sleep from her eyes, giving no hint of how she had tossed and turned on coming to bed, too exhausted and tense to sleep until ten minutes earlier when, tired of waiting for her errant husband to come to bed, sleep had finally claimed her.
‘Jane!’ His first word came with some surprise, but he quickly recovered and smiled lopsidedly, his fascinated gaze moving over her. Her shining hair tumbled over her shoulders in a gloriously untidy mass of honey-gold curls, framing a face of heartbreaking beauty. ‘Your pardon, my love. I did not mean to disturb you.’ Ruefully his eyes did a downward sweep of his clothes. ‘As you see, I am preparing myself for bed.’
He stood quite still as she flung back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. In the dim light his eyes gazed into hers. Pride and courage showed in every feature of her face, from her high cheekbones and stubborn little nose to her small chin. And yet her mouth was vulnerable and soft—as soft as the breasts that swelled beneath the bodice of her nightdress, practically begging for his touch. But it was her mouth he wanted to taste first … ‘You look angry, my love. Is anything amiss?’
Jane glowered at him, irate at having her sleep disturbed. ‘Amiss? You might say that.’
‘Alas.’ He sighed as if forlorn. Stepping close to her, he brushed a lock of hair from her face, bending near as he did so, fanning her face with his wine-laden breath which made her wrinkle her nose and turn away her face. ‘I am to be tortured more, then. The merest sight of you is enough to bring me pain.’
‘Control your lust,’ she bridled, brushing away his hand and moving away from him. ‘And I will not be pawed.’
‘Perhaps a small libation, then,’ he suggested in a cajoling voice. ‘Some wine. Perhaps it will—settle your nerves.’
‘My nerves!’ The words were lashed out. ‘It is your nerve that must be reckoned with. Of that, my lord, you have no short supply—and you have drunk enough wine to float a barge on the river. Where have you been? I have things to say to you that cannot wait until morning.’
‘You abuse me, Jane.’ He shrugged. ‘I simply know my wants and seek them out.’
Guy longed to put his arms about her, to enfold her against his chest and kiss her. But any tender feelings vanished when she began to stride about his chamber like a warrior queen going into battle. Her hair, freed from the conical headdress she had worn earlier, flowed down her back in a golden mass. Her eyes snapped in a green blaze, the golden specks in them clearly visible. Guy thought he had never seen such a glorious creature in his life.
When he attempted to interrupt her in her pacing, she shook off his restraining hand with such violence he fell back, and as her anger mounted his took shape. He wanted this woman more than any other on earth—and all she wanted to do was talk. He knew what about—that after she had vented her spleen about his securing her a position as a lady to the queen she would throw in some more about his attack on Aniston—but in his opinion, it could wait until later. The arrogance, the pride, the stubborn belief that he was right, which had been bred in him from boyhood, for a man needed these traits in battle, erupted to the surface of his mind.
He leaned his hips against the edge of a table, his arms crossed and from beneath hooded lids he watched her stride up and down, kicking aside her robe at each turn as though she did not know what she was to say or even where to begin. He waited patiently. He didn’t attempt to touch her. He was more surprised by her attitude and even more by her explosive temper. She positively crackled and he was sure if he looked close he would see the sparks.
She stopped her pacing and turned at last, standing with her hands on her hips, her breathing deep and uneven.
‘Aren’t you at least going to ask me why I am so angry?’
‘I was hoping you would cease your pacing and stand still long enough to tell me,’ he said, the fumes of liquor clearing from his mind. He continued to lean against the table, his face as blank as hers, but in his eyes was a snap of something that said he was not as calm as he appeared.
Jane tossed back her head and he was alarmed to see not only the rage she had managed to subdue somewhat, but what looked like a mixture of contempt and anguish.
‘You really do have an inflated opinion of yourself, don’t you, Guy? How dare you speak of me loosely to the queen? How dare you order my life in this way?’
‘What?’ Guy u
nfolded his arms and his long, lean, handsome body rose to its full height. ‘May I ask what the queen has to do with this … this temper you are in?’ he asked unwisely.
‘Temper? Temper, is it?’ she flared. ‘Has it not occurred to you what you are doing? You know perfectly well that the queen has requested my presence at court.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘After all, it was you who put the idea into her head, although being the simpleton I am, it did not occur to me at first. But now I do know.’ A muscle began to tick on the side of his jaw, but Jane wasn’t finished and she was too infuriated to care that he looked murderous. ‘How could you do that—without discussing a matter as serious as this with me?’
‘Am I to understand by your anger that you have objections to being one of the queen’s waiting ladies?’
She stared at him incredulously before throwing her arms into the air in frustration and resuming her pacing. ‘I do not believe this. Of course I have objections! Is there no limit to your interference in my life?’
‘Interference? Is that how you see it? I am your husband, madam, and I have every right to do what I consider best for you.’
‘Best for you, you mean. You should have told me what you intended so that I could have prepared myself, instead of manipulating me.’
‘Prepared yourself? Look at you now. Jane, you would have resisted this had I told you.’
‘So, my lord, you resorted to trickery. To do something so underhand is what I have come to expect of you.’
‘For God’s sake, Jane, what will it take?’
She whirled round, her eyes flashing fire. ‘You think I have a price? A diamond necklace? A bigger castle? Is that how you measure everything between us?’
Guy just stared at her. ‘Well, well,’ he said at length. ‘It seems I’ve found me a little spitfire.’ He leaned forwards so his face was on a level with hers, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Are you so afraid of me, Jane?’
The Devil Claims a Wife Page 17
