The Overlord's Bride

by Margaret Moore

  She made him feel fully a man again, not a monster with an ogre’s voice who frightened men, women and children.

  She was likely in the kitchen at present, discussing the plans for the week’s meals. Although she always ate with gusto and appreciation for the cook’s efforts—something that was putting some necessary flesh on her thin limbs—she was a frugal woman. He was grateful for that, he thought as he turned to go below. Otherwise, she might be emptying his purse more quickly than he would have liked.

  Well, in one way, she already was, although she did not know it. He was spending too much money on her. She had needed new clothes, and although the ones he had purchased for her were plain enough, he had used a sum he really couldn’t spare. Despite that, he did not regret it, for she had been as grateful for them as she had been the morning he had let her stay abed.

  Her gratitude was very pleasant, too.

  The earl’s castle was at the center of a large town, he reflected as he strode out of his solar. Perhaps he could buy her a pretty gown, one in red or green to set off her complexion or her eyes.

  Or perhaps he should buy her a harp. He didn’t have to go to Chesney for that; there was Johannes in the village—but then it might not be a surprise.

  He very much enjoyed surprising her, watching her eyes light up and her smile blossom.

  Yes, he would definitely buy her a harp, and maybe a gown, too.

  He entered the hall, glancing about quickly to see who was there. Elizabeth was near the hearth, seated on the bench, the young messenger beside her.

  Not so very young, that messenger, Raymond realized. About her age. And he was good-looking, too, in a soft sort of way, like Montross.

  Worst of all, Elizabeth was laughing at something the messenger had said.

  In a few long strides that made his tunic whip about his ankles, Raymond stood before them.

  The messenger jumped to his feet, startled and turning pale. Elizabeth’s brow furrowed questioningly, and, as she glanced at the messenger, she made a little frown. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Come with me.”

  “Of course,” she replied calmly. “Excuse me, Douglas.”

  The young man bowed stiffly.

  Raymond spun on his heel and returned to their solar. Once there, he waited for Elizabeth, who entered a few moments later, slightly out of breath. “Whatever is the matter?” she asked. “What has happened?”

  “I am invited to Chesney, to confer with the earl.”

  Her eyes widened. “That is bad?”

  He shook his head.

  “It is good?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh,” she sighed, sitting down in the nearest chair. “I was afraid it was something terrible. You certainly acted as if it were. You frightened me half to death.”

  He hadn’t meant to do that. The messenger, perhaps, but not her.

  She continued to regard him. “What else? There is something more. Is it…I am not to go with you, am I?”

  “No.”

  “Will you be away long?”

  “A few days.”

  “While I do not enjoy the thought of your absence, my lord, I confess I am a little relieved,” she admitted. “I am still not used to the deference accorded a lord’s wife.”

  He walked to the window and looked out at the sky. “You seemed to enjoy it a moment ago,” he growled.

  To his surprise and annoyance, she laughed and said, “I did.”

  He whirled around and glared at her, and at once, she sobered. “My lord,” she asked, rising, “what have I done? I merely spoke with the earl’s messenger and yes, I admit that after my days at the convent where I was treated little better than a leper by most of the nuns, I will confess I am pleased to be deferred to a little, but that does not mean I feel comfortable with it.” She approached him warily. “If the earl is not your enemy, what harm is there in my being pleasant to his emissary?”

  He clenched his jaw and turned away again.

  She took him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “How is that wrong?”

  “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

  “The way he…?” Obviously bewildered, she dropped her hands and drew back. “He was merely being polite.”

  “You were laughing together.”

  “He said he found you most intimidating, and I said, so did I. Then I laughed, and he relaxed and laughed, too. It is a chatelaine’s duty to make her guests comfortable. I see no harm in what I said, or in laughing.”

  He didn’t answer, and after an instant while her gaze anxiously searched his face, sudden realization dawned in her eyes, along with disbelief. “My lord, are you…can you possibly be jealous?”

  He strode toward the door. He wouldn’t explain himself to her. He didn’t have to. He was her husband, and it was for her to—

  She ran in front of him and barred the door. “You are jealous of that boy?” she asked incredulously.

  “Out of my way.”

  “Not until you tell me the truth.”

  He was very tempted to lie.

  “It is true,” she murmured incredulously. “Good heavens, I cannot believe it. That is ridiculous!”

  “You are my wife.”

  “Yes, I am—one who is no beauty or exceptional in any way.”

  “Stop being modest,” he growled.

  “I’m not, nor am I vain,” she declared. “Will you next tell me Cadmus is a beauty, too? Or is it merely that I am yours, and so must be cold and distant to all? If that is what you expect, I shall strive to obey—but it is most certainly not the way I was taught a lady should behave.

  “Nor am I pleased that you would think I would take the sacrament of marriage lightly.” She straightened her slender shoulders. “If that is why you were so abrupt in the hall, you owe me an apology.”

  “Apology?”

  A look of utter resolve appeared in her eyes. “I want you to listen to me, my lord, and mark these words. I will never dishonor you. I have made a vow before God to be your faithful wife, and so I shall be.”

  He nodded. Yes, she was the kind who would abide by a sacred vow, no matter how tempted otherwise.

  But if he did not have her heart, it didn’t matter if she did not actually disgrace him. As he looked at her, with her passionate determination, defending her honor as vigorously as any warrior, he knew life without her love would be like a feast set before a man who could not taste it.

  “I am an honorable woman, if not a pretty one.”

  “Wait here.”

  Without lingering to hear her answer, he left the solar and took the stairs to their bedchamber two at a time. He went to his large chest and, after throwing it open, burrowed deep inside, tossing out clothing and linen until he found the mirror he had put there years ago, when he could no longer bear to look at the scar around his neck.

  He fished it out and just as swiftly returned to the solar, where she was still sitting. He held the mirror out to her.

  She didn’t move. “What is it?”

  “A mirror.”

  Her lip started to tremble. “Please don’t do this to me, my lord. Please don’t humiliate me this way.”

  He shoved the framed mirror into her hand, but she turned her head away and closed her eyes.

  “Look,” he commanded. He repeated the order, more softly this time. “Look at yourself, Elizabeth.”

  She pressed her lips together and obeyed.

  Then, slowly, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “That is…why, that cannot be me,” she murmured.

  “It is.”

  She put her hand to her cheek wonderingly. “How is it possible?” she whispered. “It could almost be my cousin Genevieve staring back at me. My uncle wasn’t lying, after all.”

  To his surprise, she didn’t look happy. She looked miserable.

  “The Reverend Mother always called me ugly, and nobody contradicted her. And of course, there were no mirrors at the convent.”

  She
raised her sorrowful eyes to look at him. “Why did she always tell me I was ugly?”

  “To hurt you,” he replied gently. “And to break your spirit.”

  “I almost wish you hadn’t shown me,” she said, giving him back the mirror, her hand trembling. “I feel…I am so confused. When the villagers and your men and Montross looked at me as they did, I thought their attention was only because I was your wife. I had no notion it had anything to do with the way I look. That it could. I am the same person inside, but to know…” Her words trailed off.

  She sat so still, her hands loose in her lap, it was as if something within her had died.

  God’s wounds, shouldn’t a woman be glad to realize she was beautiful? “What troubles you?”

  “Is that why you accepted me as your bride, my lord?” she whispered, her face full of anguish. “Is that why you make love with me as you do, because I am pretty?”

  He knelt beside her, taking her smaller hands in his. “Remember the first time we were together? It was not as our other nights have been.”

  Not meeting his gaze, she nodded.

  “You looked then as you do now.”

  At last she raised her eyes.

  “You are much more than a pretty woman, Elizabeth.”

  “I…I am?”

  He wiped a tear from her cheek. “Very much more.”

  She smiled tremulously. “I am glad, my lord, to hear you say it. I was so afraid.”

  He couldn’t comprehend that. Elizabeth afraid? She was the boldest, bravest woman he had ever met.

  “Everything I understood about the way people responded to me has been based upon a lie, and I admit I was delighted to think that you found merit in me despite my lack of beauty. Imagine, then, my horror to think that perhaps it was nothing more than that, after all.” She sighed and reached out to caress his cheek. “But you, I think, can understand better than most that I still want things to be as they were. I had an idea of the world, and my place in it as a homely woman, just as you had an idea of the world and your place in it before your trust was betrayed and your voice ruined.

  “How difficult it must have been for you! I am upset, and what I have learned should be pleasing. You had to deal with something so much worse. I cannot imagine how it must have been for you. It must have been shattering.”

  Oh, God.

  He closed his eyes and silently offered a fervent thanks to heaven for sending him Elizabeth, who could understand what he had endured and how his world had altered.

  “And I think you loved her, too.”

  Ever since Allicia’s betrayal, he had tried to forget that he had ever felt that way about her. He had been too full of despair and fear and anger to admit even to himself that he had once cared about her.

  Yet now, hearing someone else say those words, something seemed to break within him, and a wall of constraint he had built around his heart crumbled.

  “Oh, God, how I loved her,” he said, his voice choking as he laid his head in Elizabeth’s lap.

  Chapter Eleven

  Elizabeth put her arms about Raymond and held him close. As she stroked his hair, she realized she had never thought a man could experience heartache as a woman could.

  But now she knew that was wrong. Raymond bore the weight of loss and betrayal and a permanent physical reminder of those things. He was not an unfeeling collection of bone and muscle and sinew. And had she not been learning just how loving he could be? A man who could love as he did could be terribly hurt by that emotion, too.

  What had she suffered compared to him?

  And yet, to hear him admit that he had loved another…

  She must not begrudge him that.

  And then he raised his head and fixed his dark-eyed gaze upon her face. “I loved her because she was beautiful. Because I was proud she accepted me. But there was always something… I know now I did not love her for herself, Elizabeth. Not as I love you.”

  She stared a moment, afraid to believe what he was saying.

  “I mean it, Elizabeth. I never cared for her as I do you. She never made me as happy as you do, and she would never have accepted a man with a ruined voice like mine.”

  “Oh, Raymond,” she cried softly, joy filling her as she once again held him close.

  They stayed thus for a long moment, until she reluctantly pulled away. “Shall we return to the hall, my lord?” she asked. “That poor messenger may fear he is in deep trouble, or that I am.”

  “Not yet,” he said, getting to his feet.

  “I must say I am pleased to think you don’t have to be ashamed of your wife’s face. I thought perhaps Montross was pitying you for that. That is one reason I was so bold in the courtyard that day, and why I was afraid I had offended you.”

  “I liked it.”

  “You didn’t just tolerate it?”

  His lips jerked up in a smile. “No.”

  “If I had known I was pretty, I wouldn’t have been so afraid. I might have been even more impertinent and really given your enemy cause to envy you.”

  “He does.”

  “I am glad.”

  “I hope you will not fear me ever again, Elizabeth.”

  “I don’t think I could now,” she confessed, rising and putting her arms lightly about his waist as she gave him a wry, sidelong glance. “But I would not want to damage your reputation, my lord. Perhaps I should pretend to tremble when you come near me?”

  He stroked her cheek. “There is only one reason I would have you tremble, Elizabeth.”

  “What might that be, my lord?”

  His smile grew.

  As heat spilled through her, she made a great sigh. “I am going to miss you when you go to Chesney.”

  “The invitation is only to me.”

  “As long as I must stay behind not because you think I will flirt with other men at the earl’s castle, or otherwise act like a vain and silly girl. Believe me, my lord, I have had my fill of them.”

  “I will miss you, too.”

  She smiled up at him, delighted and thrilled by his sincere words. “There is some time before the evening meal,” she noted with feigned nonchalance.

  “Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Come with me to our bedchamber.”

  “What about the messenger?”

  He gave her a wry grin. “Very well, we shall return to the hall and assuage the young man’s dread.”

  “I really think we should.”

  “Then we shall go to our chamber.”

  Her warm, seductive laughter filled the solar. “As you command, my lord.”

  Raymond’s gaze swept over the assembled nobles in the great hall of Chesney Castle. Never before, except in London, had he been among so many.

  He also marveled at the size and luxurious furnishings in the earl’s hall. It was very obvious he was a man of vast wealth, and that meant power, too.

  Yet Raymond was here by invitation, not command. That was a heady feeling. Still, that was not what was really pleasing him this morning. It was the thought of the harp he had purchased for Elizabeth yesterday, the very day they had arrived. He had also found some lovely fabric for a cloak for her, and fox furs to line it.

  There was another item whose recollection made him want to grin from ear to ear: a silk shift. To be sure, it had cost him dear, but when he had imagined the soft, thin fabric caressing Elizabeth’s body, he had been unable to resist purchasing it.

  He had also been seriously tempted to ride for home at once with his presents.

  “Lord Kirkheathe, what a delightful surprise,” a familiar voice murmured in his ear.

  He turned to find Elizabeth’s uncle at his elbow. “Lord Perronet.”

  The man surreptitiously studied him. “How is my niece?”

  “Well.”

  “With child?”

  “It has been only a month, my lord,” Raymond reminded him.

  Perronet flushed. “Oh, yes, of course.” He cleared his throa
t. “She is…that is, you do not find her…?”

  “She suits me.” That was a pale description of how Elizabeth made him feel, but good enough to satisfy Perronet, who breathed a heavy sigh of relief and said, “Oh, there is the earl of Lockington. I have something to discuss with him. Farewell until later, my lord.”

  Raymond inclined his head and thankfully watched him go.

  “As God is my hope, it’s Raymond D’Estienne!”

  Another familiar voice, but this was one to make Raymond smile. He waited as Baron Clarewood hurried toward him with his customary speed. “I am delighted to see you, my friend.”

  The baron came to a halt and smiled broadly, yet with a hint of concern in his pleasant brown eyes. “Are you here by command or invitation?”

  Raymond smiled. “Invitation.”

  “Splendid—and about time, too!” Charles declared. “But now tell me, is it true? Have you married again at last?”

  It had always been Charles’s way to be blunt, even in his youth, and Raymond took no offense at his question, or its form. “Yes.”

  “And to Perronet’s niece?”

  Raymond nodded.

  “Splendid again. What is she like?”

  Raymond pondered a moment, wondering if there were words to truly do justice to Elizabeth. In view of his friend’s growing impatience, he responded with a wider smile and said, “She suits me.”

  Charles grinned. “God in Heaven, a miracle!”

  “One could say so.”

  “What does she look like?” Charles demanded, glancing at Perronet.

  “Not like her uncle.”

  “God be praised for that! And she’s done you good. I can see that right off. Wonderful, my friend, wonderful!” he declared, clapping Raymond on the shoulder with a familiarity that caught the attention of several men nearby.

  Charles saw them looking, too. “Come over here, where we can be more private,” he urged. “Five years I haven’t seen you,” he chided when they got to a more secluded corner. “And you might have invited me to the wedding. Well, no matter,” he went on without letting Raymond answer. “A fine match it is, without a doubt. Her cousin’s married into the DeLanyea family, you know.”