Dark Steel

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Syler simply nodded, taking a deep breath to summon his courage as he headed into the tavern. As he moved away, Dastan approached with the lady in hand, and Dane turned to face them.

  “My lord,” Dastan said. “May I escort you and your lady wife to your chamber?”

  Dane’s gaze moved from Dastan to his new wife. He was coming to realize for the first time that Dastan had appointed himself what seemed to be the lady’s protector. Dastan was a conscientious knight, no doubt, and he’d served the lady’s father for years, so Dane didn’t find it unusual that he should do such a thing. In fact, he was rather grateful for the man’s thoughtfulness. But to his question, he shook his head.

  “Nay,” he said. “Go inside and help Syler with my brother and Willie. I can tend to the lady quite adequately.”

  Dastan nodded, but he hesitated a moment before speaking. “If I may have a word with you, my lord?”

  Dane nodded, understanding that Dastan meant privately. As he moved away, he whistled to two nearby soldiers, pointing to the lady and indicating for them to keep an eye on her. Only when the soldiers moved forward to take positions near Lady de Russe did Dane move aside with Dastan.

  “Now,” Dane said. “What is it?”

  “I wanted to have a moment to speak to you about the lady,” Dastan said, lowering his voice. “We’ve not had the chance to speak privately since before your marriage and there is something I think you should know. When I first went to collect the lady, she was quite reluctant to be wed. I think she might have run away had she thought she might not be caught, so you should keep an eye on her. This is not a welcome situation for her.”

  Dane suspected as much. “Then she and I are of the same mindset,” he muttered. “But thank you for telling me. I shall ensure she does not run away.”

  Dastan scratched at his neck. “Or stab you,” he murmured. “I do not know just how resistant she is to this marriage, so it may do you good to at least talk to her and try to establish some communication. You do not need to fear your wife trying to take a knife to you because she believes that will end the marriage before it begins, because if she is that adverse…”

  Dane understood. “Point taken.”

  As Dastan nodded shortly and moved away, heading towards the entry to the inn, Dane turned his attention to the small woman standing in the gutter with the horses. Even though the day had been warm, the night was cool and dark. She was clutching something to her chest, something he was noticing for the first time. A satchel, perhaps? A sack? He had no idea. Truth be told, he hadn’t paid too much attention to her since leaving St. Idloes.

  That was something he was going to have to amend, out of duty more than anything else. Aye, the woman was beautiful, and she had him curious, but that was as far as it went at the moment. Dastan was right – it was time to talk to the woman and at least establish communication, if for no other reason than to prevent them from existing in awkward silence around each other.

  Taking a deep breath, summoning his courage, he headed in her direction.

  “My lady?” he said, holding out a hand. “If you will come with me, please.”

  She looked at him as if startled he’d addressed her but, quickly, she did as he asked. Dane ended up grasping her elbow and, together, they headed into the loud, warm inn, where William and Boden were still singing at the top of their lungs.

  It was to be a night to remember for them all.

  It had all passed in a blur.

  The marriage, the ride to the town, whatever the name of it was… all of it was a blur to Grier. She felt frightened and disoriented, now being pulled into a stale, warm inn that was stuffed to the rafters with loud, smelly people.

  It was a struggle not to show that fear and not to run for her very life. From the silent, cold halls of St. Idloes to this madness, she swore she’d stepped into an entirely new world. It was hard to believe that both places – the abbey as well as the inn – existed in the same land. They were as different as night and day. It was so loud that she wanted to put her hands over her ears.

  The man she’d married – the one who had hardly paid any attention to her from the onset – had her by the elbow. He’d dragged her into the inn and pulled her towards the sweaty innkeeper, who took them up a set of stairs at the back of the establishment, where it was much quieter, and directed them to a chamber at the very end of a narrow catwalk overlooking a courtyard of sorts.

  There were barrels and other things belonging to the inn tucked into the recesses of the courtyard, and she’d been looking at all of the dried beef, stored in straw, when her new husband pulled her into the chamber he’d secured for the night. A chamber that was to become her chamber of horrors, she was certain.

  She had no idea what to expect.

  The room was pitch-black when they entered and she stood by the door as he ventured further in, finding a flint and stone and lighting at least three candles before he came back and shut the door and bolted it. Grier continued to stand by the door as he made his way over to the hearth, digging through the bucket of peat and wood, and placing stacks of it in the cold, dirty fireplace.

  “Do you want to sit down?” he asked, looking in her direction. “You need not stand by the door, my lady. Sit and rest yourself. It has been an eventful day.”

  Grier was still clutching her possessions to her chest as she made her way over to a table and two chairs, placed near the bed. As she set the sack containing her possessions onto the tabletop, she noticed the bed. It wasn’t like any bed she’d ever seen at the abbey; it was larger, and looked rather lumpy, and she went to it curiously, pushing at it and realizing the mattress was stuffed with something soft. As she continued to poke at it, Dane spoke.

  “Is it soft?” he asked. “If it is not, I will make them bring in their finest bed. Sometimes these places stuff old straw into their mattresses, which do not smell the best.”

  Grier looked at him. “Straw?” she repeated. “Why straw?”

  It was the first time he’d heard her speak. She had a sweet voice, soft and low, with a hint of a Welsh accent. Having spent so many years in Wales, that was understandable.

  “Because it is cheap and plentiful,” he said. “Why? Have you never seen a straw bed before?”

  He asked in a way that made her feel foolish. “Nay,” she admitted. “We did not have mattresses of straw at the abbey.”

  Dane pondered her reply before shrugging. “It is good enough for horses, so why not people?”

  She hadn’t thought of it that way. Returning her attention to the bed, she pushed on it again. “This is not straw,” she said. “It is something else, something soft.”

  With the fire starting to burn in the hearth, Dane stood up and brushed off his hands as he made his way to the bed. He, too, pushed on it.

  “Feathers,” he said, sounding impressed. “It seems that this establishment does not expect us to sleep on horse bedding. That is good.”

  “Feathers?” she said. “From chickens?”

  “Chickens, ducks, geese. Any of those fowl. No feather beds at the abbey, either?”

  “Nay.”

  “Then you are in for a comfortable experience.”

  Grier turned to look at him as he came near, noting that he was coming into view much better as the fire in the hearth gained in intensity. It also reminded her of just how handsome the man was, something that had caught her off guard when they’d first met.

  The marriage mass may have passed in a blur, but she remembered her introduction to Dane de Russe quite clearly. She’d been struck by him in so many ways, not the least of which was the fact that he wasn’t anything she had expected. She wasn’t quite sure what she had been expecting, but a handsome man in his prime hadn’t been it. He was, perhaps, nearing the fourth decade of his life, but he didn’t look like any man she had ever seen. He looked as if a door to heaven had opened up and an angel had stepped through. Everything about him seemed to gleam, like the rays from the sun.

&nb
sp; When she looked at him, all she wanted to do was stare.

  He was a big man; not really tall, because he was only moderately tall, but he was broad-shouldered and the circumference of his arms was something truly astonishing to behold. He was, simply put, muscular and strong. He had glistening blond hair, cut short, but it looked as if the cut had been sloppy because his hair was growing out in several different directions, yet on him, it simply made him more handsome. His green eyes were big, and slightly tilted downwards at the ends, which gave him a very soulful and emotional appearance, as if those big eyes could look right through her. His nose was long and straight, and a hint of a reddish beard embraced his jaw and neck.

  Nay, he wasn’t anything she had expected.

  Grier continued inspecting the man she had married when she suddenly realized that she should probably say something to him. He’d spoken to her and she hadn’t answered, which had her thinking very hard of what he’d last said to her. Truthfully, it had gone in one ear and out the other because looking at him seemed to suck everything out of her brain. It was a very strange reaction. Struggling not to look like a fool, she replied.

  “I did not know there were things such as this,” she said, pushing on the mattress again. “I have never seen such a bed. At St. Idloes, we sleep on the ground.”

  Dane’s brow furrowed as he thought on a woman sleeping on the cold ground. Actually, it was more than expressing displeasure at any woman sleeping on the ground, but Grier in particular. His gaze drifted over her. She was such a pretty thing, hidden away in that dusty convent all of these years and evidently living in primitive conditions. He rubbed at his stubbled chin.

  “That will change,” he said frankly. “As the Duchess of Shrewsbury, and my wife, you will never sleep on the floor again. You will only know comfort for the rest of your life. And speaking of comfort, I will send for a meal. You must be famished.”

  He promptly turned for the door, unbolting it and calling for a servant, whom he sent for food. When he closed the door and bolted it again, he turned to her only to note that she was looking at him with an odd expression on her face.

  “I have eaten for the day, my lord,” she insisted. “You need not send for more food.”

  His brow furrowed again, only more severe than before. First sleeping on the ground, and now a comment about a single meal? He thought to press her about it, but there were so many other questions in his head that he was jumbled with them. He pointed to the chair.

  “Sit down, please,” he said. “You and I have a few things to discuss. I think we should come to know each other, don’t you?”

  He seemed to be telling her more than asking her, and Grier scooted over to the chair and planted herself upon it as Dane stood a few feet away, his big fists resting on his hips. When she looked up at him expectantly, he continued.

  “Now,” he said. “This situation today has happened very quickly, so I suppose we are both a bit dazed by it. Would you say that is a fair statement?”

  Grier nodded. “I would, my lord,” she said. Then, she looked at the gold band on her finger, and the brooch still on her woolen garment. “I… I want to thank you for these gifts. But I am afraid I do not have a gift for you. I had no time to prepare one.”

  He shook his head. “I do not expect a gift,” he said. “I have known about this betrothal longer than you have, so I have had the time to purchase something for you. You need not reciprocate.”

  “It was very kind of you, my lord.”

  His gaze lingered on her a moment, noting her stiff and slightly petrified manner. “I am your husband,” he said, lowering his voice so he wouldn’t come across as intimidating. “You do not have to address me formally when we are in private. In fact, I should like for you to call me Dane. Will you do that?”

  She blinked as if surprised by the question. “If… if you wish it.”

  He nodded. “I do,” he said. “May I call you Grier when we are in private?”

  She bobbed her head up and down. “If it pleases you.”

  Now that they’d solved some of the personal protocols, Dane considered how to proceed. Pulling up a chair, he sat a foot or so away from her. Gazing into that lovely, doll-like face, he knew the best thing he could do was be honest with her.

  At least, he hoped so.

  “I realize that we are strangers, but I hope that we can be truthful with each other,” he said. “All I will ever ask of you is that you be truthful with me.”

  Grier nodded, feeling some of the tension between them fade. “I will.”

  “Good,” Dane said. Then, he paused a moment before speaking again. “I was told you did not wish to be married.”

  So much for the fading tension. It was back again and Grier’s eyes widened, briefly, indicating her guilt in the matter. “I… I have been an oblate since I was six years of age,” she said. “It was always my wish to take the veil. Never have I yearned to be a wife or mother.”

  It was the honest answer he’d asked for, given without emotion. “I can believe that,” he said. “Your father told me you had been sent to St. Idloes after the death of your mother.”

  She nodded. “I was,” she said. “My father never indicated to me that he wished for me to marry, not in all these years, so his wish that I should marry and assume my place as the Duchess of Shrewsbury is something of a surprise.”

  “An unwelcome one?”

  She appeared to consider her answer. “As I said, I had always planned to take the veil. This is no reflection on you, my lord, so please do not think I am personally opposed to you.”

  Evidently, she still wasn’t comfortable enough to call him by his given name, but it didn’t bother Dane. With time, he hoped she would. He wanted her to.

  “And you should know that I am not personally opposed to you, either,” he said. “You are not the only one who did not wish to wed, but here we are, and we must make the best of it.”

  Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Is this true?” she said. “Then surely, my lord, you could have denied my father when he asked this of you.”

  Dane snorted, a rather rude sound. “Surely you jest,” he said. “Your father made the request of me as he lay dying. I cannot deny a dying man. Besides, he had already made the offer to my father, unbeknownst to me, so I was your husband before I even knew of such a thing. Don’t you see? Our fathers conspired against us to create this… this union.”

  His words were almost bitter, and the truth of the matter suddenly struck Grier. She knew why she was opposed to the union, but in those few sour words, she could tell that Dane was quite opposed to it, perhaps more deeply than she was. And she knew why – it was quite clear, at least in her view. He was a great man, the son of a duke, and deserved a lady that was equally as fine and cultured, one of equal status.

  And that wasn’t her.

  She began to feel embarrassed.

  “I am sorry for you, my lord, truly,” she said sincerely. “I am not the kind of wife any man would want. I have been raised in a convent and I know nothing of the world in which you live. I do not own any fine dresses, and I know nothing of running a household, or of managing servants. I am terribly sorry that you were forced into it and if I could free you from these unsavory bonds, I surely would.”

  The expression on his face, once hard with irony, softened considerably as he looked at her.

  “I did not mean that as an insult, Grier,” he said. “I am sorry if it seemed that way. I simply meant that neither one of us was given any choice in the matter, but I do not hold it against you. In spite of the circumstances, I would hope that this marriage will be as pleasant as possible for us both.”

  His words were kind, but Grier still wasn’t so sure about it. She remembered thinking once, when she’d first found out about the marriage, that she wouldn’t let strangers control her destiny. She’d been adamant that she wouldn’t accept this marriage, but she had. The rebellion had faded, at least for the moment. Grier was stubborn, but not stu
pid. She knew she was locked into this marriage for life, and all of the complaining and defiance wouldn’t change that.

  But in these few minutes with Dane, their first real conversation, she was coming to understand her new husband just a little. What was it that knight had said to her? You are your father’s heiress; with you rests all of Shrewsbury, so your duty to you father and to your family is greater than your duty to God. Those words were rattling around in her head now, reminding her of her duty and reminding her that, like it or not, her life had changed forever.

  And this man she’d married… handsome, powerful, unlike anything she could have ever hoped for or dreamt of. Never could she have imagined something as magnificent as him. It was true that he didn’t seem too keen on the marriage, but it was also true that he was at least trying to be kind about it. She supposed she could hope for nothing more.

  I would hope that this marriage will be as pleasant as possible for us both.

  Having no other choice, she did, too.

  “Mayhap, you will find a teacher who can teach me all I need to know about being a fine lady,” she said. “I will learn quickly, I promise.”

  His lips flickered with a grin. “I am sure you will,” he said. “I can teach you many things myself and what I cannot teach you, I will find the very best instructors. I would not worry overly of the things you do not know, because when you do learn them, no duchess will be able to come close to what you will be.”

  She wasn’t quite following him. “And what will I be?”

  “Magnificent.”

  Flattery. The only person who had ever remotely flattered her had been Davies, and that had been flattery that had only made her uncomfortable. Davies had made her feel ill at ease when he told her how lovely she was. But coming from Dane, the flattery wasn’t uncomfortable. God’s Bones, did she actually like it?

  Her cheeks grew inexplicably hot.

  “I am not certain that could ever be true, but I should at least like to not embarrass you,” she said, averting her gaze because she could no longer look him in the eyes. “That is the hope, anyway.”