Composed entirely of dark grey sandstone, the castle boasted the tallest curtain wall she had ever seen, decorated with frieze carved parapets featuring morose gargoyles, and crenellated towers soared toward the heavens to kiss the clouds. After crossing the primary bridge, the caravan paused before wrought iron portcullis of the barbican.
“Yonder who goes?” a guard inquired of Papa.
“Lord—er, that is to say, I am Ryol Arscott, father of Senara Arscott, betrothed of Sir Arsenius De Wolfe.” So much had changed in so little time, and even her father required a reminder of his new status, which stripped him of his heritage, robbed him of his rank, and reduced him to an untitled pauper. “I believe His Grace, Titus De Wolfe expects us.”
“Of course, Lord Arscott.” When the guard addressed her father with respect and bowed, Papa stood upright, and she almost cried as she glimpsed the pride absent of late. “Welcome to the Lair. The honorable Sir Atticus De Wolfe awaits your arrival in the bailey.”
Nearing the end of her voyage and life, as she knew it, she fought tears. What had once been a joyous event, the joining of two long-allied families, had become a source of sadness, and the trip better resembled a funeral procession than a wedding celebration. Again and again, her father reasserted the need for cooperation and acquiescence. As she steered her gentle mount into the inner courtyard, she almost choked on the lump in her throat, when she spied her new relations assembled in a receiving line.
While the elegantly garbed ladies smiled, the men caught Senara’s attention, and everything in her wanted naught more than to turn around and ride for Cornwall. Giants all, the male De Wolfe’s were best characterized as mountainous structures with irresistibly handsome attributes. But which of the imposing figures was her future husband?”
The party dismounted, and Senara took her position behind and to the right of her father. A particular De Wolfe gazed upon her as if he knew how she looked without her chemise, and she sniffed and lifted her chin, quietly but pointedly admonishing his rude behavior. How dare he stare at her before they were formally introduced?
“Lord Arscott, I am Atticus De Wolfe.” The distinguished gentleman extended a hand, which Papa accepted. “As the head of the family, it is my privilege to welcome you to the Lair.” He stepped to the side. “Allow me to present my wife, Isobeau and my son, Sir Titus. This is my nephew, His Grace, Titus De Wolfe, the Duke of Ausborn, Her Grace, Desiderata, and their eldest son, Sir Arsenius.”
Senara gulped, as she may have already piqued the ire of her groom. When she offered a smile as an olive branch, of a sort, Arsenius winked. Oh, the impudence.
“Your Grace.” Papa bowed. “Permit me to introduce my wife, Wenna, my daughter, Senara, and my youngest, Ysella.”
Even beneath the weight of her traveling gown, she executed a perfect curtsey.
“Lord Arscott, I am more sorry than I can convey over the inauspicious affairs that necessitated this meeting.” Her soon-to-be in-law possessed kind eyes and a tranquil manner. “Prithee, know that I did everything in my power to mitigate the retributive justice enacted by His Majesty. However, as we are to be family, know that you now enjoy the protection and support of the De Wolfes.”
“Let us not talk of the unpleasantness, when thither are friendships to be solidified prior to tomorrow’s nuptials.” Her Grace, a beauteous lady blessed with patrician features and a commanding air of refinement, clutched her husband’s arm. “Shall we repair to the great hall for refreshments, that you might take your ease after your lengthy travels?”
“How were the roads?” Atticus ushered them into a grand entry, whither they shed their outerwear. “The rains have been heavy, of late.”
“They were a terrible mess and slowed us down, as we did not want to risk injury to the horses,” Papa explained.
As the parents gathered about a large table, the hosts surprised her by foregoing their positions of prominence at the massive dais, choosing instead to sit with the visitors, and that boded well in Senara’s estimation, as it suggested they viewed their new relations as equals.
At one end, she led Ysella to a chair. “Are you all right, sister?”
“Do not worry about me, Senara.” Ysella pressed the back of her hand to her cheek. “I am fine. Just a tad tired.”
“Would you like some ale or wine, my lady?” A servant drew two mugs from a tray. “Or would you prefer something hot? Mayhap, tea?”
“Tea sounds lovely, gramercy.” To her amazement, Arsenius and the younger Titus, thither was a story in that name, she would wager her life on it, occupied the seats opposite her, and Senara ignored them.
But she could not disregard their incessant whispers and snickering, which boiled her blood. And she wanted to rattle the rooftops, when Titus said in a low voice, “Not bad, cousin. I hope I am as fortunate with my bride.”
That was it, she had reached her limit of feminine deportment, and just as she was about to take issue with Arsenius and his brash relative, Ysella coughed and stood. “May I retire to my accommodation, as I am exhausted, Father?”
“I am remiss in my duties.” Isobeau clapped her hands, and another servant stepped to the fore. “Prithee, show Lady Ysella to her chamber.”
“Shall I go with her, Papa?” Senara peered at Arsenius, who cast a lopsided grin. “Ysella might need my help.”
“No.” Father shook his head. “You should avail yourself of the opportunity to speak with your intended and become acquainted, as you are more than adequately supervised.”
That was the last thing on her mind, as her fiancé appeared to wrestle with laughter at her predicament, and she swallowed an unladylike curse. Clasping her hands in her lap, at last, she met Arsenius’s gaze, and she clenched her gut.
Piercing in their intensity, his crystal blue eyes, thickly lashed, the highlight of a beauteous chiseled visage framed with thick brown hair, and arrogant smile bespoke myriad naughty thoughts, all of which she pretended not to notice, but her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
“My, but your blush is charming, Lady Senara.” Of course, her tormentor had to remark on her discomfit, and she bit her bottom lip against a dagger-sharp retort. “Ah, you are thinking of a word, but do not tell me. Let me guess.” He tapped his chin and snapped his fingers. “Has it something in common with a winter frost?”
Again and again, she recited her promise in her head, as she could not risk alienating Arsenius, and a single acrimonious comment could render her family homeless. So, despite every instinct shouting at her to respond, to engage in verbal warfare, she held her tongue.
“And still she remains quiet.” Arsenius frowned and leaned forward to impart in a whisper, “Your bosom is quite tempting, and I cannot wait to explore your bounty after our wedding.”
Warmth seeped into her chest and spread to her limbs, as her ears pealed a carillon of alarm, but she clung to her wits. How she ached to yield and set the crude brute on his heels, but her pledge silenced her protests.
“Well done, my dear.” Titus snorted. “I have witnessed his use of that gem on occasions too numerous to count, and in each instance his candor met with a none too graceful slap on the cheek and a terse but earned rebuke, yet you tolerate his goading, which will serve you well in your marriage.” The partner in nefarious enterprises shrugged. “Else he might beat your bottom raw.”
If she had any desire to chastise her intended, it died with the cousin’s threat to her posterior. Studying the polished wood surface of the table, she traced the lines of the grain and inhaled a deep breath.
“Mayhap I would, if I were partial to corporal punishments.” In a shocking display of familiarity, Arsenius tipped her chin and brought her gaze to his. Then he grazed the curve of her jaw with his thumb. “Alas, I find such barbarity repugnant, so your arse is safe with me.”
“Really?” Titus propped on his elbows. “How disappointing for her.”
“Perchance I should clarify my meaning, cousin.” Trapping her stare, Arsenius ease
d back in his chair. “I said her arse is safe. I did not say it was immune to my attention.”
Heart hammering in her breast, Senara shot upright. “Prithee, may I be excused?”
Folding his arms, Arsenius chuckled. “At last, she speaks.”
“And with deference owed to her new lord and master.” Titus mirrored Arsenius’s stance, and she almost choked on her pride, as she gritted her teeth. “The lady knows her place.”
Digging her fingernails into her palms, she stiffened her spine. “It has been an arduous journey, and I am in need of rest.”
“Do not taunt the poor thing, as she is correct in her assertion.” Titus nudged Arsenius. “I gather she will get little, if any, sleep tomorrow night.”
To her surprise, Arsenius stood, rounded the table, and offered his arm in escort. “Come with me, my lady.” To their parents, he said, “I will accompany Lady Senara to her chamber and return, forthwith.”
She anticipated an objection, but her father merely nodded. In that moment, it dawned on her that she was verily Arsenius’s to command, as he owned her, per the King’s directive. By his side, the difference in their sizes could not have been more obvious, as the top of her head did not reach his shoulders, thus she abided his wishes, as he led her to the entry, whither the housekeeper lingered.
“Lady Senara retires, and I would show her to her quarters.” Arsenius drew Senara toward a narrow passage and a stone staircase.
“Of course, Sir Arsenius.” The grey-haired servant curtseyed. “She is installed in the north wing.”
In blissful silence, they ascended to the second floor and navigated a winding corridor, until they paused before a heavy oak, double-door portal, which the housekeeper set wide. “Lady Senara, your trunk was deposited in the inner chamber.”
A small sitting room, with a large fireplace, opened to reveal a huge four-poster bed and expensive furnishings to which she was unaccustomed, as Papa was a parsimonious sort. Just then, to her unutterable mortification, her belly rumbled.
“Great gulf of hunger.” Arsenius burst into laughter, and she endured the ensuing shame with aplomb. “Did you swallow a monstrous beast, or are you in need of sustenance?”
“Sir Arsenius, Her Grace did not raise you to embarrass a lady of character, so you will behave, or I will talk to her.” The housekeeper wagged a finger. “Mind your manners.”
“Oh, all right, Magge.” Duly chastened by the old woman, which gave Senara pause for thought, he shifted his weight. “Bring my fiancée some bread and water.”
“Now you have made me angry.” Magge rested fists on hips and to Senara said, “I will have maid fetch a fine clarrey, waffres, cheese, and a lovely apple muse.” Then the spirited housekeeper turned her gaze on Arsenius. “And if you do not behave, thither will be no perys in confyte for your wedding feast.”
“Lady Senara, I bid you a pleasant rest.” With an exaggerated flourish, her suddenly contrite groom bowed. Then he stretched tall and licked his lips. “Sweet dreams of me.”
“Out, you ill-tempered sack of misery, before I summon Her Grace.” Magge stomped a foot. “Lady Senara, I will send two girls to help you undress for bed.”
The housekeeper sketched another curtsey and scurried into the hall. Alone, Senara collapsed in a large, comfy chair and exhaled. “What on earth am I marrying?”
_________________
CHAPTER THREE
Life had a way of sneaking up on a man and throwing unexpected events at him, the sum of which Arsenius had always viewed as the excitement in an otherwise predictable existence. But when it came to an unforeseen and unwelcomed arranged marriage, he would settle for an extended stretch of boredom. Or so he thought, until he glimpsed his bride-to-be.
“Wherefore are you so quiet?” Beneath the table in the large family solar, whither the De Wolfes gathered when everyone resided at the Lair, Titus kicked Arsenius’s shin. “This is not the raucous celebration we planned in London, is it?”
“Nay, but how could it be, given I marry on the morrow and you the day after?” Arsenius reflected on his bride and consumed another healthy portion of ale. “Lady Senara is not what I envisioned. Although she is beauteous, she is too timid for my tastes, and I baited her with my best hooks.”
“I noticed.” Titus scratched his chin and yawned. “Commiserations. I can only hope I fare better, in that respect, as I want a woman with spirit.”
“Tired?” Arsenius inquired.
“Aye.” His cousin stretched his arms. “Your favorite strumpet kept me awake last night.”
“You visited Emony?” Of course, Arsenius opted to forgo a carnal encounter so close to his nuptials.
“Well someone had to console her over your impending wedding.” Titus arched a brow. “And I cannot believe you rebuffed her request for a final roll in the stables.”
“It was time to end the affair, as I am to take the sacrament.” Arsenius mulled Senara’s demeanor and frowned. “But what to do about my bride?”
“I suppose our mothers can shed some light on the predicament.” Titus refilled the tankards and peered over his shoulder. “Whither are they?”
“In the great hall, with our fathers and your in-laws.” Was it a Cornish tradition, or were the Arscotts remiss in their duties, to have raised a mouse as opposed to a woman? Dreading his union to the lovely but submissive Senara, Arsenius rubbed the back of his neck. “But Mama promised they would make their excuses and join us, soon.”
“What am I going to do if my intended suffers the same affliction?” Upon consideration, Titus drained his tankard. “Mayhap the block is not so bad a fate.”
“Whatever happens, we must obey the King’s command, not only for ourselves but also for our families.” It was the threat to the De Wolfes that ensured Arsenius would keep his appointment at the altar. “We cannot rebel without risking everyone.”
“Aye.” Again, Titus refilled his mug, signaling his anxiety, as he always overindulged in drink when he was nervous. He glanced up. “Hither they come, as I hear them in the hall.”
Mama and Isobeau strolled into the solar and halted.
“Wherefore the long faces?” Isobeau peered at Titus and then Arsenius. “Has someone died?”
“We may as well have, Mama.” Titus scowled. “Did you see that lifeless thing to which Arsenius is chained? I hesitate to consider what awaits me, given we know naught of my fiancée, and she is to arrive tomorrow.”
“Is that what this is about?” Isobeau laughed. “I thought it a matter of urgency.”
“Oh, you gave us such a fright.” Mama brushed aside their concerns with a wave of her hand. “Who would have guessed our big, bad De Wolfe sons are afraid of a couple of gentlewomen?”
“Mama, it is not that simple, and we are not afraid.” Arsenius opened and closed his mouth. “But Senara is an abyss of unknowing. Indeed, her eyes are alert, but she sees naught.”
“Arsenius Solomon William De Wolfe, apologize, at once.” Mama folded her arms, and he was in trouble, as she invoked the full compliment of his names. “No offspring of mine will ever speak thus of a lady.”
“I am sorry, Mama.” Thither was no time for pride. “But I want a marriage like you enjoy with Papa, whither I might argue with but still love my bride. Is that so wrong?”
“No, my son.” Mama pulled up a chair and sat, as did Isobeau. “Yours is a noble endeavor, but it is not so easy as you might think, as you and Senara are strangers, and society views women as property. I wager Senara’s fledgling dealings with you are based on the assumption that you prefer the usual arrangement, and you must overcome her expectations to that effect.”
“Desi is correct.” Isobeau inclined her head. “To judge Senara on your first meeting is to do her a grave disservice, given the upheaval in her life, which can impact her in ways you cannot fathom.” Averting her gaze, she smiled. “How well I recall my initial audience with Atticus. In truth, I was terrified, and I knew not how to address him, given we both strug
gled with grief over the loss of Titus. But time and patience healed our wounds, and we found incomparable love.”
“Thither is no reason you cannot find the same devotion with Senara, if you give her a chance.” Mama compressed her lips. “I recommend a period of adjustment prior to the deflowering, that you might acquaint yourself with her preferences.”
“That leads to our second question.” In haste, Arsenius sought liquid courage and gulped his ale. “How should we…what is the most prudent method…oh, great pit of humiliation, how does one approach and claim a virgin?”
“With care, a suit of armor, and a shield.” Mama glanced at Isobeau, and they burst into laughter.
“I am so glad to provide for your amusement.” Arsenius propped his elbows to his knees and cradled his chin in his hands. “This is serious.”
“Did you ever, in your wildest imaginings, think we would find ourselves hither, partaking of this conversation with our eldest children?” Mama asked Isobeau.
“Most assuredly, not, as I supposed this was a topic for their fathers to deliberate.” Isobeau pressed a fist to her chest and giggled. “Then again, motherhood demands all manner of peculiar duties, without end.”
“So you wish to discuss the consummation.” With lingering titters, Mama wiped a stray tear from her eye. “Well, if I remember the moment with your father—”
“Prithee, Mama, no details.” Arsenius cringed. “I think I might be ill.”
“What on earth is wrong with you?” Mama furrowed her brow. “Your father and I are husband and wife. How do you suppose we created you?”
“I know how you managed it, but I prefer to avoid the particulars, whither possible.” Arsenius swallowed hard. “A little help would be appreciated, cousin.”
Holding his belly, Titus blanched. “I fear I may vomit, thus you are on your own.”
“Come now.” Isobeau clucked her tongue. “My son is not so delicate, and men are not invulnerable to wedding night nerves. While my first husband, your Uncle Titus, took my maidenhead as anticipated, he was not so assured as you might presume. In fact, he was clumsy but sweet. And Atticus delayed, given I carried his brother’s child when we married. When we, at last, came together, it was magic, because our hearts were engaged. Still, it took a while to learn each other’s habits.”
World of De Wolfe Pack: The Big Bad De Wolfe (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 2) Page 3
