At the end of the feast, Master Konrad entered the hall carrying his masterpiece—a spun-sugar subtlety depicting a golden wolf surrounded by white roses. As the cook paraded down the aisle to the high table, much applause followed his artful confection. He presented it to Thomas.
“Felicitations, and long life to the bride and groom,” Konrad said. He smiled broadly.
Thomas’s black humor lifted a little. He turned to Alicia, and cocked an eyebrow. “Does it please you, my lady?”
Tears of happiness pricked her eyelids. “Aye, my lord.” He had remembered that the white rose of York was her royal father’s family badge.
Thomas leaned closer to her so that only she could hear his next words. “Which piece do you choose?”
His warm breath tickled her ear. She fought her overwhelming desire to kiss him in front of the entire shire. “The wolf. I will always choose the wolf.”
A faint light twinkled in the indigo depths of his eyes. Using the point of his eating knife, he pried the sugar creature loose from its base. He presented it to her as if the figure were made of pure gold. “Take good care of him, my lady.” A faint tremor in his voice indicated that some strong emotion boiled within him.
“Always, my lord.” Their fingers touched. Her skin prickled pleasurably.
He broke off the largest of the roses, and put it on his trencher. “I am partial to these,” he murmured, then he raised his voice and addressed his cook. “Outdone yourself, Konrad.”
The man basked in his lord’s appreciation.
Alicia opened her mouth to add her thanks, but Mary called out, “Do not take all the flowers for yourself, Tom! Please let me have one—or two. I have never seen such a treat. I utterly long to eat one!”
Her brother chuckled. “Serve the young minx her fill, Konrad. She will plague me otherwise.”
The cook bowed, and took his platter down the table. Thomas turned in his chair, and gazed at Alicia. He studied her face as if he would divine her most secret thoughts. She grew warm under his scrutiny.
“When will you eat your wolf?” he asked, his expression a mask.
“When you eat your rose, my lord.” She held her breath.
Again he leaned closer to her, his face almost touching hers. He smelled of wine, leather and some exotic scent that surely must have been imported from the mysterious east. His nearness kindled a burning deep within her.
“Feed me.” His command was a caress.
Alicia’s toes curled inside her slippers.
Thomas put the sugar rose in her hand. She could barely contain her trembling. Without another word, she touched his lips with the sweet. He opened his mouth. She placed the flower on his tongue. His closed his lips over her fingers before she could withdraw them. He laved each one with his tongue. She wanted to yield to the burning sweetness that had captured her. Their gazes locked as their breathing came in unison. A hot ache rose in her throat.
Her mouth went dry. “Thomas, please, people are watching.”
Slowly he pulled away, releasing her. The air felt very cold on her wet fingers. She experienced a sudden sense of loss, and wished she had not spoken.
He picked up the wolf. A mischievous look flashed in his eyes. “Open, my lady.”
Alicia eyed the figure. “He is three times the size of the rose, Thomas. I fear he will not fit.” she whispered.
His left eyebrow lifted a fraction. “Take the head for now.”
A spark of desire spiraled through her. Her reason counseled restraint, but her heart paid no attention. She parted her teeth, and bit off the wolf’s head with a wanton hunger. The sugar melted in the heat of her mouth, filling her with sweetness. Her lips quivered with her unspoken passion.
Please, say it now, Thomas. Tell me that you love me.
He sat back against the cushions of the chair. His gaze dropped from her mouth to her shoulders, then settled on the brooch between her breasts. Within a heartbeat, his demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed, and his back became straight as an arrow’s shaft. He knotted his fist, then banged it on the table several times. The hall froze into silence.
He rose, and bellowed, “I am going hunting!”
His words cut Alicia. Her eyes widened. “Now? This minute?”
Thomas ignored her question. “Any man who wishes to accompany me, meet at the stables in ten minutes,” he told the company.
Applause and cheers greeted the host’s unusual announcement. Alicia felt faint. What had she done wrong?
Sir Roger Ormond slammed down his goblet. His wine slopped over his hand. “I wager I will kill more deer than you, neighbor!”
Thomas hooded his eyes like a hawk. He clenched his fist behind his back. “You will ride on my nearside, Ormond, so that I can keep my eye on you.”
Sir Roger merely laughed at the steely tone in Thomas’s voice.
Alicia took his hand in hers, and attempted to soften his tense grip with her touch. “I had thought there would be dancing anon,” she suggested. Her new husband felt like a man made of marble.
He glanced down at her. “You ladies can dance. We will hunt.”
She blinked back her tears. This was not how she had envisioned her wedding day. “But why now?”
His blazing stare bored into her like a dagger. “Because I must Trust me,” he whispered.
Then he was gone from her side. Thomas marched down the hall with lengthening strides. Barking, baying and yipping, his three boon companions scampered out from under the high table. Andrew tossed his serving cloth to a nearby wench, and hurried after his master and the excited dogs. He cast a sympathetic look over his shoulder to Alicia.
I must not cry or whine or scream like a fishwife. I will pretend that this shock was planned as part of the day’s festivities. I will smile to all these noble ladies whom I do not know—but later, Thomas Cavendish, I will give you a wedding night you will never forget!
Chapter Fourteen
Thomas could not erase the memory of Alicia’s stunned expression when he announced his intention to go hunting instead of spending the day with her. His breath caught in his throat when he recalled how he had caressed her long, supple fingers in his mouth when she fed him the sugar rose. If they had been alone, he would have taken her to his bed then and there.
Behind him, he could hear his male guests preparing themselves for an unexpected day of excellent hunting. Good-humored shouts rang across the courtyard as grooms and stable lads hurried to saddle several dozen horses at once. Thomas knew that his neighbors thought him to be mad—especially to leave his beautiful bride alone while he rode off to the forest He didn’t care. There was a higher purpose to this expedition than mere entertainment Only Alicia mattered. When he returned, he hoped he could make her understand his motive, and win her forgiveness.
Stuffing his leather riding gloves under his wide belt, he stepped into his library. He would write his new wife another letter to ease her mind until they met again. Andrew found him just as he finished his note. He started to sign his name, then paused. Surely she knew who her mystery correspondent was by now, even though she had never once mentioned his other letters. He folded the paper, then sealed it with a dab of wax.
Andrew gave him a jerky bow. “Your horse awaits you, my lord,” he said in a cold tone. He did not look at Thomas.
The knight glanced at his ruffled squire. “How now, Andrew? You do not approve of the noble sport of hunting?”
The boy’s face hardened. “‘Tis not my place to give an opinion. I am only your lordship’s humble squire.”
Thomas blew on the waxen blob. “Aye, yet you look like the angel of doom. Speak!”
Andrew glanced at his master out of the corner of his eye. “If the fair Alicia was my wife, I would not stir from her side on my wedding day.”
He nodded. “I agree.”
The squire’s flinty expression dissolved into one of surprise. “Then why—if I am permitted to inquire?”
Thomas regarded his young compan
ion. He suddenly felt much older than his four-and-twenty years and very world-weary. “Because I have forgotten to give the lady a gift for our wedding,” he replied in a soft tone.
Andrew crossed his arms over his chest, and attempted to look cynical. “Oh? So you think running away to your forest is exactly what she wants?”
He shook his head with a little smile. “I am not running away at all, but running for something. Pray that I find it.”
“I will, for if you do not, methinks Lady Alicia will flay you alive upon your return—and I will gladly hand her the knife.”
Thomas whistled through his teeth. “I will engrave your threat upon my memory, Master Avenger. In the meantime, please leave this where my wounded lady will find it.” He gave Andrew the note. “Then attend me. Georgie will go with us. He has grown too slothful and needs a good run. Put Tavie in my saddlebag as usual, for he will be underfoot, and in danger of trampling if he remains here among the ladies.”
The squire took the letter, and stuffed it inside his jerkin. “And Vixen?” He still did not unbend his self-righteous stance.
Thomas sighed. “Let her choose what she will. Methinks she will want to stay close to home, but would resent it if I chained her.”
Andrew sniffed. “You seem to give more thought to your dogs than to your wife.” He stuck out his chin.
Thomas curled his lip. The boy sometimes pushed his limits. “I think of Lady Alicia every moment of the day—particularly this one!” He turned on his heel, and went out the door. “Come, young Lancelot. We burn daylight!”
Muttering under his breath, Andrew hurried past him on his errand. Thomas locked the door behind them. His squire would understand when Thomas found what he sought—if he found them. For the sake of his new, fragile marriage, he prayed that hunter’s luck rode with him.
Alicia discovered that the abandoned wives did not miss their husbands’ company at all, but instead took the unexpected opportunity to exchange news and gossip with each other. She led everyone outside to the gardens. Enjoying perfect weather, the ladies divided into little groups of twos and threes, then settled themselves like so many colorful butterflies on the stone benches that dotted the garden’s paths. Alicia instructed the castle minstrel to wander among them, and play sweet ballads upon his lute. She instructed other servants to pass around cups of watered wine, and platters of the sugared almonds and gingerbreads. Since Thomas had ordered the delicacies for the wedding, they may as well be eaten before they turned stale.
The bride spoke to each of her guests, taking care to memorize their names and titles. To every lady, Alicia gave a warm smile and words of greeting. She laughed in a carefree manner when one or another of the finely dressed women questioned Thomas’s sudden idea of a hunt. She knew they considered her husband an idiot, and perhaps they pitied her. No matter. Thomas had asked her to trust him, and she would try her best to do so.
Lady Margaret Palmerson flashed Alicia a patronizing smile. “Husbands! What does one do with them?”
I do not know, but I suspect I shall soon find out. Alicia dimpled in her most charming manner—an expression she had often used in the past to win over the customers in Edward’s gold shop. “La, my lady! Thomas is a great one for the hunt. Methinks he will die in the saddle someday.” If I do not kill him first.
Lady Katherine Francis fluffed out her red-and-cream silken skirts. “Do you not think it strange for your new husband to abandon you on your wedding day, my dear?”
Before Alicia could reply, Lady Martha Bolton answered for her. “How can the poor girl possibly know what is strange or not strange about Thomas Cavendish? She has only been married to him for three hours.” She smiled at Alicia like a cat in the sun. “What we really want to know is, where did Thomas find such a beautiful brooch? By my troth, I have never set eyes on anything so fine.” She inspected the jewel like a connoisseur.
Alicia fumbled for an answer. How could she say it was her father’s? The next question would be how could a mere goldsmith have afforded such a costly ornament? Instead, she shrugged. “I know not, my lady. Thomas continually amazes me. Do you think it might be an heirloom of his family’s?” She crossed her fingers behind her back.
“A king’s token, I would wager,” Lady Margaret judged.
Alicia’s heart almost stopped. Despite the warm sunshine, she felt icy cold.
Lady Katherine nodded her head in agreement. “No doubt some Cavendish ancestor rendered a service for one of the Plantagenets, and was well rewarded for his trouble.”
As the day wore on, Alicia looked around for Mary. At least the girl’s company would be more wholesome. Following the sounds of squeals and laughter, she found her new sister-in-law in the courtyard. Mary had engaged a number of the village girls in a game of hoodman-blind. Alicia was tempted to join them, but then she remembered she was now the Countess of Thornbury and should conduct herself with dignity—especially with all of the shire’s gentry watching. Someone touched her shoulder. When she whirled around, she saw Stokes gazing down at her with a wise look in his gentle brown eyes.
“Methinks you are tired, my lady.”
She nodded. “‘Tis been a long day.”
The steward squinted at the sun. “Aye, but there are a few hours yet until evening.”
She sighed, and wondered how long Thomas intended to go roaming around the woods.
As if he read her thoughts, Stokes continued, “‘Twill be neigh suppertime afore my lord will return. He often hunts ten or twelve hours.”
She felt her courage dissolving. “Oh.”
The steward lowered his voice. “I mean you no insult, my lady, but you need to rest. Tonight will be…that is…” He reddened to the roots of his dark hair.
“Tonight I must please my husband in all things,” she finished for him. “Aye, my mother instructed me well in this matter.”
He looked relieved. “No one will think ill if you retired for an hour or two. Audrey has turned down the master’s bed for you. I will attend these ladies, and see that they stuff themselves with ample sweetmeats.”
She flashed him a grateful smile. “You are a good man,” she said. “I hope Thomas pays you well.”
The steward bowed. “Aye, my lady, he does.”
With another word of thanks, Alicia stole away from the merrymakers. As Stokes had observed, none of her guests noticed her leave-taking. As she mounted the entranceway stairs, Vixen emerged from the shadows. The dog looked up at her.
Alicia dropped to her knees, and caressed the pregnant greyhound. “Did he leave you, too, girl?” She stroked the dog’s smooth flanks. “Does he think we females are a bother? Come, Vixen. You look as if you could do with a nap.”
Together they walked in silence through the nowempty hall. She noticed with satisfaction that all the trestle tables had been taken down and put away. Not a scrap of the wedding feast remained on the sideboards. She blessed Stokes for his efficiency.
Together, they climbed the wide staircase. Each step seemed higher than the one before it. Alicia covered a yawn with her hand. She waited while Vixen negotiated the last stair. The dog’s limp appeared more pronounced as they continued down the gallery toward Thomas’s bedroom.
“Methinks the load you bear has become too troublesome for you,” she observed. “Tomorrow I will make an ointment, and rub it on your leg. Perchance ‘twill ease some of the stiffness.”
When they arrived at the master’s chamber, Alicia hesitated before crossing over the threshold. She had never seen the inside of Thomas’s lair. She discovered that his room and its appointments were less lavish than those in the chamber she had been given, yet she liked this one better. It looked more comfortable with its simple furnishings and unadorned coverings. With only the dog for company, she felt like a child sneaking into a forbidden place.
On the other hand, Vixen appeared quite at home. Giving a little run then a graceful leap, she landed in the middle of the huge, canopied bed. She circled several times be
fore she plopped down next to one of the bolsters. She yawned, then looked at Alicia with an expectant air.
“Are you inviting me to join you?” She crossed the floor, then sat down on the edge of the bed, and gave a tentative bounce on the thick mattress. Thomas must like his bed ropes pulled tight. So do I.
She kicked off her new kid slippers, and wriggled her toes. The shoes had not been broken in yet, and they pinched. She lifted her flower wreath from her brow with care. She already had a number of thorn pricks from her bouquet. She found that she couldn’t unlace the back of her gown by herself. Praying that the rich material of her skirts would not wrinkle too badly, she lay down next to Vixen.
Alicia rubbed her companion’s velvet-soft ears. “My thanks, Vixen. I am very grateful for your company.”
The greyhound closed her eyes, and appeared to fall instantly asleep. Alicia relaxed against the bolster. She caught sight of a piece of paper lying on the small nightstand Its red wax seal looked all too familiar.
She reached for it, then hesitated. Perhaps it was a note for Thomas instead. A horrible thought flashed through her mind. Maybe he had a mistress who had sent him a letter on his wedding day. Alicia had never considered that possibility, though she realized that many men took a mistress. Thomas had been a bachelor for a long time, and he was not unattractive to women.
Alicia chewed her lower lip. Who was she hoodwinking? Thomas was more than handsome. He looked like the golden god of the dawn. He probably had no end of women vying for his attentions. She touched her lips to the fingers that he had caressed so intimately at the feast. Her skin tingled at the delicious memory. No doubt, Thomas was a master in the art of lovemaking. She hoped she would not disappoint him tonight. She thanked the sweet angels that Katherine had taught her so much about pleasing a man.
Alicia stared at the note. Her curiosity ate away at her reluctance. She picked it up. If Thomas had a mistress in the village, the wench probably couldn’t read or write, she told herself. Her heart almost stopped. In the familiar bold penmanship, she read her name on the flap. With trembling fingers, she broke open the seal.
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