by Wood, Lynn
Nathan reluctantly acknowledged he would have to continue to practice his patience with his young wife a little longer while at the same time maintain his guard against any potential threats from her past. In time, Rhiann would accept his love would not fail her as everything else she relied on her entire life had crumbled around her these past several months. Her father and brothers were dead. Her mother chose her own end. Her father’s knights and the thick walls of her home were not enough to protect her against an enemy invasion. By demanding her complete faith in her former enemy, he was expecting a lot of her, more he acknowledged than he would be willing to offer his wife if their situations were reversed.
He passed through the door into Melissa’s room and saw his wife in bed with her sister, their arms wrapped around each other, their heads bent close as they slept. The two heads, one angelically fair, the other midnight dark provided perfect foils for each other. The flawless profiles appeared fragile in sleep and almost too beautiful to believe they were real and not conjured from the depths of a man’s lustful fantasies. The Salusian stone rested between them and glowed a deep red, as if a watch fire burned within its depths. Nathan was relieved to see the thin silver chain now stretched around Melissa’s neck rather than his wife’s. The thousand year old inheritance was transferred at some point during the night to its proper keeper, the eldest daughter of the house. Nathan let his glance linger on Melissa’s face, at peace for now, after what he feared had been a violent encounter.
His relief upon learning Rhiann was relieved of the burden of the stewardship of the stone was tempered somewhat by his concern over Melissa’s ability to bear any additional burdens in her current state. Fate had not been kind to the duke’s daughters, but given the choice, Nathan would not undo its course. The harsh whims of war blessed him with his young wife and her father’s estates. Out of the devastation of his wife’s former life his own was born anew.
As he turned to pass into the hall to begin the day’s duties, his eyes fell on the two daggers resting next to each other on the chest beside the bed, their jeweled hilts touching, alike, yet not identical. Much like the two women who possessed them, alike in the mysterious bond sisters share, but by no means identical. He would speak with the king and assure him he would welcome his wife’s sister into her former home. There would no doubt come a day when he would regret the rash commitment he was about to make, but in his view of the world he had very little choice in the matter. For all her headstrong ways, Lady Melissa was a young woman in need of his protection. She was his wife’s sister. Upon his marriage to Rhiann, she had become his sister, too.
Chapter Twelve
Over the course of the weeks following her arrival in London, Melissa found her sister’s gentle care a balm to her shattered body and broken spirit. Her bruises faded and her scars healed until her skin took on its former healthy glow, though beneath the surface lay a new delicacy that was absent before her brutal confrontation with Luke’s half-brother. She now possessed a new understanding of how fragile and fleeting life could be, how it spun about on the whims of fortune, blessing one and cursing another, seemingly without any reason for doing so other than random chance. Unlike her gentle sister’s, Melissa’s faith in all she believed and relied on before the war was shaken to the core by its ravages. She wasn’t certain she would ever recover her former conviction of her place in the world.
She stood at the window of her sick room and watched the activity in the courtyard below. Rhiann was hurrying off to morning mass, no doubt intent on offering her gratitude to their maker for her sister’s deliverance. Melissa had yet to send up a similar offering. Likely their heavenly father was somewhat irritated by her reticence, but she held to the belief a false prayer was worse than none at all. She remained uncertain whether or not to be grateful for his divine intervention, if that was indeed what led to her continued existence in this world of men when she was all but certain she would die in an enemy knight’s arms in a cold, damp cave, the count of days ago which she could no longer easily recall. Being resurrected, even if only from a false assumption of death on her part, took a little getting used to. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now. Rhiann confided in her Nathan’s generosity in offering her a place at Heaven’s Crest, but the thought of returning to her childhood home under the guardianship of a Norman lord was not a particularly appealing one to Melissa.
The king’s agreement to his baron’s suggestion at least relieved her of her most pressing worry that the Norman duke was inclined to force her into a marriage with one of his knights the way he had her younger sister. Such a marriage was quite impossible now with the loss of her virginity. As she had no wish to discuss the reasons behind her very real inability to wed, she could almost be grateful to her sister’s new husband and the Norman duke for sparing her the necessity of such an awkward explanation.
As fates would have it, she would be given the opportunity of expressing her gratitude in person later that same evening in the king’s hall. On his last visit, the king’s healer finally pronounced her well enough to leave her sick room. As happy as she was at the prospect of leaving the little room she was assigned for the length of her stay, she faced the prospect of an evening spent with her former enemies with mixed emotions. She was grateful enough for the king’s healer’s gentle and expert care of her injuries, and for the roof over her head, and the warm bed she lay down in each night. In fact, her recent experiences had given her a new appreciation of even the most modest comforts. Things like clean linens, warm food, and attentive servants she’d never given a thought to in her previous, pampered life. It was the thought of to whom she owed her appreciation for such comforts now that grated on her pride. Melissa admired her sister’s accepting spirit and wished she could borrow a little of that acceptance to help her through what would no doubt prove to be a trying evening in her enemies’ company.
Later that afternoon, Rhiann arrived at her door after she woke from the nap her husband insisted she take each day, a practice that endeared her new brother-in-law to Melissa even though he was a Norman. Melissa allowed her sister to assist her into the rich burgundy gown Rhiann lent her for the occasion. She couldn’t suppress a grin at Rhiann’s excitement as she danced excitedly around her, fussing with her gown and her hair until Melissa finally held up her hands in protest.
“Really Rhiann from the way you are acting you would think we were attending our first grown-up gathering. Stop fussing. I am certainly not interested in attracting any attention tonight.”
“Whether you are interested or not, you will certainly attract a lot of attention, sister, as you always have wherever you went,” Rhiann chided her, as if she were the elder of the two before resorting to her usual warmth. “Oh, Melissa, you’re so beautiful. It makes me so happy to know you are well again and I have my sister back.”
Melissa met Rhiann’s shining eyes. There was no evidence of her delicate condition in the way the cream colored gown she wore clung to her still slender waist and hips, but her eyes glowed with such joy it was impossible to not be momentarily mesmerized by the sight of her. “If anyone’s going to attract attention this evening, it will be you, Rhiann. I believe I am beginning to understand why your husband insists on surrounding you with guards wherever you go.”
Rhiann blushed prettily, but quickly shook her head in denial. She led Melissa over to the looking glass attached to the inside of the door of the chest that now housed a supply of Rhiann’s gowns she lent to Melissa from the store of her own. “I think, sister, it has been so long since you looked in a mirror you’ve forgotten which of us has always been the most beautiful, fascinating, and vivacious of our father’s daughters, and which one of us has always been the wan-looking, quiet little mouse in the corner no one noticed.”
Melissa laughed at her sister’s extravagant praise and turned from her perusal of her reflection in the small mirror to regard her lovely sister. “Surely you must be joking, Rhiann. You are every man’s dream fo
r a wife, as our dear father pointed out to me on numerous occasions. I am quite certain the real reason Father was so anxious to see me wed was because he knew as soon as you grew up a little all of my suitors would desert me and would be pounding down the doors of Heaven’s Crest for the opportunity to court his younger daughter. Think how embarrassing that would have proven for me.”
Rhiann laughingly protested her claim and Melissa could see the astonishment in her sister’s eyes was real. She gripped Rhiann’s hand and pulled her closer to the mirror. “It is you, sister, who I think does not see herself clearly. You are as lovely as a fresh dawn on a spring morning. It is no wonder your Norman husband adores you and indulges you so shamelessly.”
Rhiann turned distressed eyes in her direction. “I’m trying very hard to be a good wife to Nathan, Melissa. Do you think I have taken advantage of his generosity?”
It was Melissa’s turn to offer her own laughing protest. “No, I do not. Unlike me, I am not certain you are capable of taking advantage of anyone.”
Rhiann sighed and eyed her sister admiringly. “Well if I am spring then you are the fulfillment of its promise. If men look at me and see a dutiful wife, they look at you and see the answer to every manly fantasy chasing through their dreams.”
“And what would my innocent young sister know about manly fantasies?” Melissa teased.
“More than you,” Rhiann delighted Melissa by admitting. “I am a married woman now, after all. At least I know enough about them to have concluded I am not the kind of woman who inspires them.”
Melissa grinned at Rhiann’s rather resigned conclusion, and hugged her sister. “Oh, Rhiann, I’m so glad we found each other again.”
“Me, too.” Rhiann whispered against her ear, then quickly pulled away. “We should go. I am certain Nathan is already downstairs. We shouldn’t be late for the king’s table.”
Melissa grinned. “Yes, especially when you are trying so hard to be a dutiful wife.”
The sisters stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the great hall already filled with nobleman and their ladies, along with single knights given the honor of dining with the king. For a moment they paused at the head of the stairs and Melissa took in the glittering sight below them. She saw Nathan in conversation with the king and noted how his eyes strayed to the head of stairs. When he caught sight of them, Melissa knew it was only her sister he saw. She watched his expression soften and her lips curved upward at the look of stunned awe that came over his face at the sight of Rhiann’s fair beauty. Melissa was almost jealous of her sister’s good fortune in finding a husband who adored and indulged her the way the new lord of Heaven’s Crest did Rhiann.
Cherished and indulged his wife enough to offer her sister a place in his new home, recalled Melissa, though she imagined the invitation cost her new brother-in-law a worrisome qualm or two. Witnessing her sister’s joy, Melissa’s heart tripped along a dangerous course to the memories of her own happiness she’d discovered in a lover’s caress, his strong arms encircling her, his deep voice proclaiming her beauty. She’d been careful to keep those memories at bay over the long, too often sleepless nights of her recovery, but she was only partially successful. In her dreams Luke’s voice whispered in her ear, beckoned her to stay with him, to be with him. His hands tangled in her long hair as they lay together and he teased her over one of her, in his eyes, outrageous opinions. Tears stung her eyes as the memories played through her thoughts. She could almost hear his deep voice, see the laughter flash in his dark eyes, and feel the tenderness of his touch.
She reminded herself she’d had no other choice but to leave him the way she did. Luke would never have listened to her arguments that it was unnecessary for him to honor the promises he made in the beauty of the passion they shared, even if she had lingered long enough for him to offer them. He felt responsible for her. Not only because he was the man to whom she surrendered her prized virginity, but mostly she believed because of his brother’s assault on her.
He would have insisted on an immediate marriage and damned the consequences of flinging such an insult in the faces of both his king and his father. As the daughter of a Saxon nobleman, her future was now the new king’s right to order. As the heir to his family’s estates, which from the way he refrained from offering too many details about them, she concluded were quite vast and profitable, his father would have every reasonable expectation of having a say in his heir’s marriage. He certainly would not be pleased at the prospect of his only remaining son being wed to the now penniless daughter of his former enemy. She gathered from Luke’s reluctant and mostly stilted responses in regards to her questions about his family that his relationship with his father was not an easy one. There was no reason for him to further strain their tenuous relationship by Luke arriving home with the news of his older brother’s death and an unwelcome wife in tow.
Melissa recognized so easily the wide streak of obstinate pride running through Luke’s veins in part because it so closely mirrored her own. More than stubbornness though, there was a deep sense of honor underlying it that would prevent him from doing anything in regards to their awkward circumstances other than what he believed his knight’s scrupulous integrity demanded. Because she admired his nobility so deeply, she refused to allow herself to take advantage of it. Her foolish heart, along with her resurrected girlhood dreams of knights and blushing maids and happily-ever-afters might have shattered when she left him sleeping in that cave, but at least she could still look herself in the mirror without that singular regret staring back at her. Though she might cringe at the conclusion Luke must have drawn when he woke the morning after their shared night together, she could never regret sparing him a marriage born from his honor’s demands rather than his heart’s urging.
A sudden breath of cool air reaching up the long expanse of stairs indicated the arrival of even more guests into the already overcrowded all. She turned her attention to the entrance in silent appreciation to the new arrivals for bringing with them even a brief reprieve from the oppressiveness of the overly warm gathering.
At the sight greeting her astonished eyes, Melissa was forced to grasp the rail to keep from falling over. Her frantic thoughts danced through her head seeking some purchase in her suddenly careening world. Contained within their muddled whirl was the frantic conclusion that if she was one of those women prone to fainting spells she would have made a particularly spectacular entrance into the king’s hall by tumbling down the stairs in a dead faint. Actually, she decided as the truth sank in, fainting seemed like a perfectly reasonable reaction to her current circumstances. She momentarily regretted her womanly make-up was more comfortable with a warrior’s dagger strapped to her thigh than enacting feminine dramas.
While Luke’s attention was occupied scanning the hall’s occupants, her eyes feasted on the wickedly handsome sight of him. His dark hair seemed longer than she remembered and was neatly combed and secured away from his face with a leather thong. She preferred it swinging arrogantly about his shoulders, in a gesture she guessed was a slap in the face to the conventions of polite company. His face was all harsh lines and angles, bronzed and chafed from long hours in the saddle under even the weak sun of a Saxon winter. His dark eyes were filled with razor sharp judgments as he took in the room and began to make his way across it, greeting acquaintances along the way.
There was strength in the shoulders hidden beneath the rich black cloak he wore with his family’s silver crest emblazoned on its front and worn over its bearer’s heart. Strength, honor, ready laughter at the world’s foibles, and a nobility and sense of decency that left her slightly in awe of him. He was more than her young years had yet allowed her to become. She could only long for the opportunity to even out the distance separating them, a gap that was not measured by the length of the hall she regarded him across, but by the indefinable advantage years and life experience bestowed upon its owner. Her heart rebelled against the actions of her foolish pride, but even still, e
ven now, she did not regret freeing him from his rash commitment to her.
He would have honored his pledge and taken her as his wife, but it wasn’t his knight’s honor her heart craved in the silence of the long nights they were separated, it was his love. She would not settle for less than what her mother had found in her father’s arms, what her sister miraculously found in her new husband’s. No, if she was confronted with the choice between marriage to the man she loved that was born from his sense of duty rather than love for her, and a life without him, she would choose the latter. A foolish choice perhaps given her current reduced circumstances, but to her mind, the more honorable one, and to her heart, the more acceptable one.
Melissa was so lost in her musings she wasn’t aware of Luke’s progress in her brother-in-law’s direction, nor when he first became aware of her standing at the top of the stairs. Rhiann’s gentle tug on her arm awakened her to a sense of their surroundings. She turned her head to smile briefly at her sister, and then began her descent of the long stairs. She risked a quick look back in Luke’s direction and felt the impact of his mocking dark eyes on her as if they were a physical caress. Physical perhaps, but by no means a gentle one. Their eyes locked and she saw the stunned shock echo through his expression before it was replaced by the carefully contrived expression he set in its place. His lips curved in a derisive smile that did not reach his eyes as he followed her descent, his eyes roaming boldly over her, taking in the rich gown she wore, the way her hair was pulled up and left to fall in a riot of dark curls down her back, and then lingered for a moment on the jeweled amulet around her neck. Her gown was modestly cut, but his eyes lingered possessively on the glimpse of her full breasts his hands caressed that night, when it was just the two of them alone in the world. Oh lord, he was furious.
