The Overlord's Bride

by Margaret Moore

  What she asked was a small thing, and cost nothing. Surely it was not worth making her sad. Besides, the tenants should see his bride, as the villagers had.

  His beautiful, bold bride. Pride swelled within him, as it had when he had seen the envy in Montross’s eyes. “You may come.”

  She raised her head, but she was not happier. “Perhaps it would be better for me to stay here.”

  “I said you may come.”

  “Is that an order, my lord?”

  Confounded, he shook his head. “I would like it.”

  She swiped at her eyes. God’s rood, was she wiping away tears?

  He took her by the shoulders and gazed at her intently, seeking confirmation.

  She didn’t meet his gaze. “If I embarrass you, my lord, I am content to stay here.”

  Embarrass him? How? By being the most beautiful, spirited and passionate wife he could hope for? “You do not.”

  She continued to stare at the floor—or her garments?

  Of course, that had to be it. She was ashamed of her clothes. He would buy her some new ones with some of her dower money. Surely they could spare enough for that.

  “I am not ashamed of you,” he assured her.

  Swiftly, she raised her head, her splendid eyes shining with both doubt and hope. “You’re not?”

  “No.”

  “Then I shall be delighted to ride out with you,” she said, putting her arm through his. “Provided you have a gentle mare and do not intend to go very fast. You may recall, my lord, that I am a little sore.”

  “I am pleased to think there is such a large wood on your estate, my lord,” Elizabeth observed as she rode beside him on an exceptionally placid mare.

  Her breath looked like puffs of smoke in the chill January air, but above them, the sky was a brilliant winter blue. No snow lay upon the ground, and in the sunlight, it seemed almost spring.

  “I confess that when we approached your castle from the west, it seemed set in a very barren place.”

  Instead, as she now knew, to the south and east there was a wood of both size and variety. And, as she had foreseen, it was a beautiful day.

  She was as happy as she had ever been as she rode proudly beside her husband under the cover of the trees, with the men behind and nobody else watching.

  She had come to realize that when she was at Donhallow, everybody watched her. She was used to being the center of attention, but for her sins. In that case, the other girls had glanced at her surreptitiously, some in sympathy, others hoping to catch her doing more wrong.

  To be sure, it was not like that at Donhallow. When she caught people’s gaze there, they flushed and bowed and looked away as if they were the sinners, except Rual. She always met Elizabeth’s gaze frankly, which pleased Elizabeth, Lady Katherine’s edict regarding overfamiliarity with the servants notwithstanding.

  It had occurred to Elizabeth today that Lady Katherine had never seemed a happy woman. Nevertheless, rumors had lately come to the convent via a new girl that Lady Katherine was married. That didn’t seem possible, given her stern nature, and Elizabeth wondered what kind of man could possibly have conquered her former foster mother’s heart. A man as stern as Lord Kirkheathe, perhaps.

  Glancing at her grave husband beside her, she suddenly felt quite close to Lady Katherine, and wished her happy in her marriage.

  Up ahead, a rabbit dashed into the middle of the rutted road, sat up and stared as if not believing anybody would have the audacity to interrupt its progress, then darted into the underbrush. As Elizabeth laughed, Cadmus gave a loud bark and loped off after it.

  “I hope he doesn’t catch that fine fellow,” she said. “It would be a pity for him to wind up in a pot.”

  “It is a dog’s nature to catch rabbits,” her husband replied.

  “I think that one may escape such a fate,” she proposed. “He is very fast.”

  “A rabbit belongs in a pot.”

  “And Cadmus will catch him without fail?”

  “Cadmus is a good hunter.”

  “I daresay you are, as well. Yet you did not bring your hawks.”

  “We do not hunt today,” her husband replied.

  “Except for Cadmus.”

  “Yes, except for Cadmus.”

  They continued on in companionable silence, and as they did, Elizabeth realized how free and happy she felt.

  And how she wished the Reverend Mother could see her now.

  Her present joy nearly made up for all her past suffering, and might have entirely, if this talk of hunting did not make her think of food. Food reminded her of the girls she had left behind. Hopefully one of them would take her place stealing food for the little ones.

  Then she had an idea, one that grew stronger the more she thought about it. If her husband proved amenable, she would write to the bishop in charge of the convent, detailing the deprivations the girls suffered, despite the money sent for their welfare by their families. Surely the bishop would have to pay attention to the wife of Lord Kirkheathe.

  She should have thought of this sooner, and not selfishly put her own concerns first.

  “Are you uncomfortable?”

  “Me? No, my lord. I was…thinking.”

  “Deeply,” he agreed gravely.

  “May we stop for a moment? In truth, I think a little respite from the saddle would not be amiss. And if there is a stream nearby, a drink of water would be welcome, too.”

  He nodded and raised his hand. The troop of men halted their mounts. He threw his leg easily over the back of his large stallion and slid to the ground, then reached up and put his strong hands about her waist to help her down.

  As she slipped along his body, heat flooded through her, even though the breeze was cool.

  Looking into his dark eyes, she did not think she alone was affected by their proximity.

  At that moment, though, Cadmus came bounding toward them through the underbrush, his tongue lolling as he panted, and no bleeding carcass in his mouth.

  “He got away,” she murmured with satisfaction. “I thought he looked clever.”

  “The rabbit?”

  “Aye, my lord. The rabbit.”

  Raymond made a sound between a laugh and a bark, then turned to his waiting men.

  “Stay here,” he ordered before taking her gloved hand in his. “Stay,” he commanded his dog, in exactly the same tone.

  Blushing, Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at the soldiers as he led her into the bushes. “Heaven only knows what they think we’re doing, my lord.”

  “They heard you ask for water.”

  “I hope so. Or perhaps I should be flattered they might think you cannot stay away from me for even half a day.”

  He made that same bark of a laugh and his grip tightened as he led her farther into the wood.

  Maybe he was thinking of doing more than drinking, and the sight of a ruined hut a little way in the distance made that seem a definite possibility—until he stopped in front of a babbling stream. “Drink.”

  She knelt on the bank and cupped her hands to bring the clear, cold water to her lips. Her thirst slaked, she twisted her head to look up at him—and saw blatant desire on his face. She swallowed hard as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Are you…are you not thirsty, my lord?”

  He shook his head.

  “Hungry, perhaps?”

  He slowly smiled.

  “Me, too,” she whispered as she got to her feet. “Even though my belly is full.”

  His eyes gleamed.

  There might never be a better time. “But the girls I left behind at the convent are starving. Do you think, my lord, that I could write to the bishop and tell him so? I’m sure the Reverend Mother is well paid in her charge of them and keeps most of the money for herself. Unfortunately, visitors are very rare and the girls are not allowed to write, even if they know how. Now that I am free—and gratefully so, I assure you—it would be selfish of me to do nothing. I must help them if I can. T
hey may not be so fortunate as to be married some day, many of them, and it is a harsh…” In light of his expression, her words trailed off.

  “Another request?”

  “I do not ask for myself, my lord, but for them. If I forget them, it will be to my shame.”

  “Then write.”

  “Oh, thank you, my lord!” she cried, throwing her arms around him and laying her head against his chest. “You are most generous.”

  “It may not help.”

  Feeling the coarseness of his wool tunic against her cheek as she raised her face, she said, “But it may. At least the Reverend Mother will know that I do not intend to keep quiet about her management of the convent.”

  Although his features softened a bit, he pulled away from her. “You, keep quiet?”

  She thought of her happy exclamations as they rode along. “Do I talk too much for your taste, my lord? I can be quiet, if that will suit you better.”

  “No, it will not.”

  She sighed with relief.

  “Tell me about her.”

  “The Reverend Mother?” she said with honest revulsion. “I would rather not.”

  “Then the other girls.”

  “There is not much to tell. We didn’t get much chance to talk, so when I say I can keep quiet, believe it, my lord. We went whole weeks without speaking. And we were not to talk when we were in our sleeping quarters, or at work, or at mass or at table.”

  He tilted his head.

  “Yes, it was difficult for me. That was one reason I was punished, too. I tried to whisper, but they always caught me. I was much more successful stealing food.”

  “How?”

  “How did they catch me, or how did they punish me?”

  “Punish you.”

  “By whipping me, as you already know from the scars. And making me fast and keep vigils. Oh, and scrubbing floors—they knew I hated it. The cold water, kneeling on the stones…I tell you, my lord, there were days I thought my knees would never stop aching.”

  “Go on.”

  “There is no more to tell, not about that place. I would much rather talk of other things.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Should we not be getting back to the others?”

  “They can wait.”

  Chapter Ten

  Lord Kirkheathe went to a fallen tree nearby and sat on the trunk. He gestured for Elizabeth to join him.

  When she did, she talked with a freedom she had not known in a long time. She told him of her parents and their untimely deaths, of the years being shunted from relative to relative, of her short, yet pleasant, time with the stern Lady Katherine DuMonde. “You know, my lord, she was quite a bit like you, except that she was a woman, of course. Very stern and a great believer of discipline.”

  For the first time since they had sat upon the log, her husband spoke. “Discipline?”

  “Yes, I know you insist upon it, too. Your men are very well-trained, certainly better than my uncle’s. The two times we stopped at an inn on the way here, they would go off and gamble and drink and sport, and he would have a terrible time rounding them up again. If I had not been so afraid of what lay ahead, it would have been quite amusing.”

  “You think me stern?”

  “You cannot deny that, but,” she murmured, placing her hand on his arm, “I am beginning to realize, not all the time. Not when we are alone, like this.” She cocked her head to regard him with an affection that was growing deeper every time they were together. “You were going to kiss me before, I think, my lord.”

  He lifted one side of his mouth in a wry smile, then got to his feet and held out his hand. “The men have been waiting a long time.”

  “Oh,” she said as she placed her hand in his and rose.

  Then, suddenly, he yanked her to him and kissed her with so much heated passion, she felt dizzy.

  “Besides, you are sore,” he whispered as his lips trailed over her cheek toward her neck and she arched her back.

  “I…I am feeling better. Can’t the men wait a little longer?”

  “No.” He stepped away and she could have groaned with frustration and disappointment. His eyes sparkled as he took her hand to lead her back the way they had come. “You look bereft.”

  “My lord, you cannot kiss me like that and then expect me to be calm, or not wanting more.”

  “Good.”

  She halted and he had to stop, too. “I think you are a rogue, my lord. A very tempting one, to be sure, but a rogue nonetheless.”

  Rogue? No, he was a devil, if his seductive little smile was anything to judge by. “When you are not sore, you will see what kind of rogue I can be.”

  She had to clear her throat. “Perhaps tonight, my lord?”

  “Whenever you are ready.”

  “Or perhaps we do not have to do all we did last night,” she suggested hopefully.

  “And you were not going to ask for things,” he chided softly as with a low chuckle, he gathered her into his arms.

  The men had to wait somewhat longer.

  “It can’t be true,” Fane Montross muttered several days later as he glared at the woman. He picked up a piece of daub that had fallen from the decrepit hut’s crumbling walls and threw it across the small interior toward what had once been the hearth. “How can she even like that cretin?”

  Rual shrugged. “How do I know? What I do know is, she’s falling in love with him, despite what you think, and I think him with her, too.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I have eyes in my head, and it’s that plain. I’ve been keeping a close eye on them since she came, and I tell you, he’s different. Almost…mellow.”

  Fane snorted. “Raymond mellow? That I would pay to see.”

  “Do you doubt me?” Rual charged.

  “No. I shall take your word for it.”

  “And she’s like a besotted girl with a secret lover. Makes me sick to look at them.”

  “She has no idea you loathe him?”

  “Am I a fool? Of course not.”

  “And no idea who you are…or rather, who your family was?”

  “The earl thought we were all dead when he stole our land and got the king to give D’Estienne my father’s title.”

  “Your father was a traitor.”

  “But was my mother? Was I, his daughter? There was no reason for the king to take away our livelihood.”

  “Except the law, Rual. All a traitor’s property is forfeit to the crown. I confess I am surprised you ever bothered to come back.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself to spout the law to me, Sir Fane. I know it better than you. And why should I not return? I have more right to be here than Raymond D’Estienne, and I will get justice in my own way.”

  “I would take care how you speak to me, woman. I could kill you right now with no repercussions and no remorse. Your body would be found in the woods, and they would blame thieves or gypsies. Never me.”

  Rual’s lips curved up into a smile. “You could, but then you’d have no spy in Donhallow. Everybody else in there thinks the man walks on water, or they’re terrified of him.”

  “Tell me, Rual, why don’t you kill him yourself?”

  “To be hung? As much as I hate him and all his family, I value my life.”

  “You could be discovered to be a spy. Are you sure Kirkheathe has no suspicions?”

  “None.”

  “You’ll never get the estate back, even when he’s dead,” he observed.

  “I know that, too,” she snapped. “But for now, I will help his enemy destroy him and make a pretty penny out of it, too.”

  “Indeed you will.” Fane held out the purse of silver coins. “With all I pay you, you could go to London and live like a queen.”

  “I won’t leave here until he’s dead,” she mumbled as she snatched the purse.

  “Still, quite a risk you’re taking.”

  “It’s worth it,” she said, shaking the bags of coins. “As you sa
id, I can go to London and live like a queen when he’s dead.”

  “And he will be soon enough, I promise you. Plans are already in motion. Lots of things can happen when a man travels from home.”

  “Aye, I know,” Rual said slyly.

  He suddenly lunged at her and grabbed her by the throat. “And you had better keep your mouth shut.”

  “I will,” she gasped, her eyes wide as she vainly tried to pull his hands off her.

  “See that you do,” he snarled as he shoved her away. “Now take your money and get back before you’re missed.”

  Raymond kept the smile of satisfaction off his face as he rolled up the parchment message bearing the seal of the earl of Chesney. “Tell him I shall be pleased to attend,” he said to the messenger who had brought the scroll and now waited for his response.

  The nervous young man bowed. “As it pleases you, my lord.”

  “You will stay the night and return in the morning.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “You may go.”

  The youth was only too keen to depart the solar.

  Raymond rose and went to the window to look out over his castle. At last, the earl, his overlord, had asked him to attend his council. Raymond had lived on this estate all his life, yet never once had the earl deigned to ask him, or his father, to council.

  Coming so soon after Raymond’s marriage, the reason for the change was all too plain. It was because of his marriage to a niece of Lord Perronet, long a friend and ally of the earl’s.

  Montross would not be pleased. The sly and charming Montross had had the earl’s ear for years, but now perhaps that influence was on the wane. Another reason, Raymond told himself, he was pleased that he had taken Elizabeth for his wife.

  However, despite what he had thought when he agreed to the marriage, the alliance with Perronet was not the most important reason for his pleasure now.

  Beautiful, bold, loving Elizabeth was.

  He delighted in her company whenever she was near, and especially when they were alone—and not necessarily in bed. Just having her nearby was a delight, to see her vivacious face and hear her lovely voice, to have her glance at him with her bright, approving eyes. To know that he could bring a smile to her face, and she to his, and that this amazing, wonderful woman was his wife.