A Loyal Heart

by Jody Hedlund

  “It was the best I could do for you, my lady.” His voice and eyes contained an apology.

  I understood then what he’d left unsaid, that if my father still refused to pay the ransom money and remained unwilling to subject himself to Lord Pitt and thereby the king, then I would be obligated to marry the knight underneath my rank and quite possibly live in poverty and obscurity. Such a sentence was indeed serious punishment for a noblewoman like myself, especially after I’d already envisioned myself living at court as an attendant to the queen.

  I straightened and lifted my shoulders in an attempt to be brave. At least I would be alive and would have more time to figure a way out of my predicament. “Again, I thank you for using your influence to save me. You were more than generous to avail yourself of my plight.”

  “You wouldn’t be in this plight if I hadn’t taken you from your home.”

  “I cannot fault you for what your master ordered you to do.”

  Our gazes connected in a moment of understanding. In some ways, we were both pawns in a game much larger than ourselves.

  “The betrothal ceremony is to take place at once,” he said. “Afterward Lord Pitt will allow me to move you to the tower. It won’t be as comfortable as your previous guest chamber, but it’ll be much better than the dungeons.”

  “I shall not complain.”

  “Then we need to be on our way and finalize the betrothal before Lady Glynnis persuades Lord Pitt to change his mind.”

  “Very well, sir. I shall make haste.”

  “The ceremony will be in the chapel,” Aldric said to Sir Darien. “Have the ladies there at the next ring of the bells.”

  Sir Darien nodded.

  Aldric spun and began to stalk away. As I watched him, I realized I’d neglected to ask about the knight chosen for my betrothal, likely the lowliest and poorest among the ranks. Was it someone I already knew? Hopefully one of Aldric’s loyal men. At least they’d been kind to me.

  “Who am I to pledge myself to?”

  Aldric’s footsteps faltered only slightly. Without turning, he spoke over his shoulder. “Me.”

  The one word rendered me speechless, and I could only watch as he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

  A distant bell rang the call to Vespers as Sir Darien stopped in front of the open chapel door.

  Izzy fidgeted with the caul of gold thread that encased my hair like a net. A jeweled coronet held the silk cap in place. Studded with emeralds and pearls, the workmanship was stunning and matched the dark evergreen gown I wore. The gown was lush and trimmed with tiny seed pearls sewn into elaborate embroidered leaves. It was the most beautiful gown I’d ever worn. One of the servants had disclosed that Aldric had handpicked it for the betrothal ceremony.

  In preparing for the occasion, he’d given me every luxury I could want—hot bath water, scented oils, perfumed soaps, along with a half a dozen servants to assist my every move. Although I would have relished the chance to soak in the bath until the water cooled, the servants rushed me along so that now I was perfectly cleaned and groomed.

  With every passing moment, my guilt had swelled until now it pressed hard in my chest. Aldric had made his wishes known to me on more than one occasion. He had no interest in taking another wife. In fact, he’d been quite adamant that he planned to remain single.

  I had the feeling he hadn’t changed his mind, that he had no wish to bind himself to me any more than I did to him. But somehow in attempting to save my life, Lord Pitt had cajoled him into this new plan to lure my father into submission. Aldric wouldn’t have agreed to the arrangement if he’d had another option.

  He was even nobler than I’d realized. Not many men would sacrifice their own desires and plans to save a lady like me from death.

  “Are you ready, my lady?” Sir Darien paused in the chapel doorway.

  “No, but I have no other choice, do I?”

  My guilt pulsed against my rib cage. How could I make Aldric go through with a betrothal? Even though the contract wouldn’t be as binding as marriage, it was still a serious move. If I had any hope of getting out of it, Father would have to pay Aldric for a release.

  I’d have to start praying Father would be willing to hand over the required amount so Aldric could be free again. In the meantime, I had to go through with the ceremony or face death.

  Sir Darien stepped aside to allow me entrance to the chapel. The hum of voices ceased and silence descended. At the front of the small chapel, the priest stood speaking with Aldric and Lord Pitt. Several other of Aldric’s closest knights stood a short distance away.

  Lady Glynnis sat stiffly on the front padded bench with one of her ladies by her side. While all other heads turned in my direction, she kept her focus unswervingly on the ornate iron cross that hung on the wall behind the altar. I couldn’t see her expression, but the stiff hold of her shoulders told me she resented being present and had no wish to act as a witness to the betrothal.

  If only she knew how well I understood her resentment. I didn’t want to go through with the betrothal any more than she wanted me to.

  As I started down the aisle toward the front, I avoided making eye contact with any of the men, including Aldric. I wasn’t sure I would be able to state the betrothal vows if I witnessed the pain it was causing him.

  When I reached the front, I took my place next to Aldric. I noticed he, too, had taken the time to bathe and groom. Gone was the dust of travel. He’d donned a fancy tunic hemmed with a golden braid. His hair was freshly washed, neatly slicked back into submission, and tied in place. He’d even taken the time to shave so that his face, though still ruggedly handsome, was less foreboding.

  He didn’t say anything as he offered me the crook of his elbow.

  I took it, leaning in as I did so. “I am sorry.”

  He gave the barest of nods to acknowledge my apology. His jaw was granite, his brows furrowed, and his lips pursed tightly. His attention was upon the priest and didn’t swerve.

  I had the overwhelming urge to turn around and run from the chapel. But the thought of hanging from a noose and leaving Izzy alone in this world held me in place. I looked at the priest so he’d know I was ready to begin—at least as ready as I could be given the circumstances. With Izzy at my left and Lord Pitt next to Aldric, we had more than enough witnesses. There was nothing stopping us from the betrothal, except that neither of us wanted it.

  I vowed silently that I would eventually find a way to release Aldric from his commitment to me even if I had to pay the price myself.

  The ceremony was over within minutes, nothing more than simple vows of intent from each of us. When Aldric reached for my hand and touched a ring to my finger, I couldn’t mask my surprise. I wanted to tell him he needn’t give me anything, that I would find a way to end our betrothal as soon as possible. But as he gently slid the ring down the length of my finger, I shivered with a strange anticipation.

  The thick silver band contained a cross at its center and was engraved with a fancy swirl of jewels. It was as lovely as everything else he’d given me today. Was the ring special to him or merely one of the many treasures he’d claimed during his battles against rebel lords?

  “Now that you’ve pledged your troth,” Lord Pitt said, clamping Aldric on the shoulder, “you must seal your vows with a kiss.”

  “We most certainly will not,” I started indignantly. But at the rapid warning look Aldric slanted at me, I let my protest die. I guessed, even without him having to explain, that Lord Pitt would take perverse delight in making me do something I had no wish to do, that the only way to stop him from making matters worse was to give him what he wanted.

  Yet, I had no desire to kiss Aldric. He might be handsome and chivalrous, but if we had any chance of severing our oaths at some point in the future, we would fare better if we didn’t entangle ourselves deeper into the betrothal.

  “Do it, Windsor,” Lord Pitt cajoled good-naturedly. “I know you’ve wanted to kiss her since
the night of the dance.”

  I expected Aldric to deny Lord Pitt and to come up with an excuse that would save us both embarrassment. However, he pivoted and at the same time reached for me, fitting one hand on my waist and sliding the other to the small of my back.

  As he drew me closer, I couldn’t stop my involuntary gasp at his brazenness. But with his eyes fixed upon my mouth, he swooped in and captured my gasp before it could find full expression. His lips powerfully covered mine and moved in a kiss that gave me no option but to respond.

  I was innocent in the ways of men and kissing and intimacy. I’d never been kissed, except for the perfunctory pecks on my hands by suitors. Therefore, nothing prepared me for the power of the connection. I could only close my eyes, completely undone.

  The kiss had hardly begun when he broke away, almost abruptly. He straightened and released his hold. “There, my lord.” He tossed Lord Pitt a grin—one that seemed genuine. “Are you satisfied?”

  Lord Pitt grinned in return, his eyes mischievous. “For now.”

  When Aldric held out his arm to me, I wanted to pull a veil over my face so that I could hide how much I’d enjoyed his kiss—much more than I wanted to admit to myself, much less to him. As I took hold of him, his gaze raked across my face and landed upon my lips. Something smoldered in his eyes, something that stoked the low flames inside me.

  Had he been as affected by the kiss as I was? Likely not. After all, he’d once been married and was no novice when it came to showing affection.

  I couldn’t make more out of the moment than he’d intended. After all, it was just one little kiss. Hopefully one we’d both soon forget.

  Chapter

  15

  All I could think about was kissing Olivia again. Through every course of the feast, the kiss I’d given her in the chapel replayed in my mind, especially whenever I happened to glance at her mouth—which I tried not to do but seemed unable to avoid, as she was seated beside me.

  Every time I turned to converse with her, every time she spoke to one of the other guests at our table, or every time she sipped from her goblet, I was keenly aware of her lips.

  Pitt had likely orchestrated the kiss, knowing once I’d tasted of her, I’d want to have more. However, I couldn’t give in to the pressure or the pleasure of claiming another kiss. One kiss was already too many.

  Perhaps Pitt had anticipated my reaction to Olivia. But I certainly hadn’t expected this. Of course, I could acknowledge how beautiful she was in the velvety green gown that made her look like a queen. But I hadn’t thought that bending in and giving her a kiss would stir such longing inside me. I suppose I hadn’t counted on her responding with such fervor.

  In fact, as much as I’d loved Giselle, I could see now that our relationship had been mostly one-sided. I’d adored her, but she hadn’t returned my love as ardently.

  Not that I loved Olivia or that she loved me. But I had to admit I felt some kind of affection for her. And from the way that she’d responded to my kiss, I could only surmise she harbored feelings for me as well.

  I wasn’t displeased by the idea that she liked me. If her father refused to come for her, then she wouldn’t be entirely unhappy if we had to wed.

  “What say you, Windsor?” Pitt asked boisterously from where he sat several seats down. “Shall we have your wedding in one week?”

  One week was much too soon. But I ran my thumb pad around the rim of my goblet, needing to take my time in answering Pitt so that my voice remained neutral and noncommittal. If he detected any hesitancy, he would capitalize on it.

  Next to me, Olivia shifted uneasily. She was much less adept at hiding her true feelings, which worked to my advantage most of the time. “We must wait two weeks,” she hissed. “My father will surely come once he hears of our betrothal.” Her eyes flashed with a desperation that pierced me harder than it should have.

  What was wrong with me? Her desperation was to be expected. The betrothal wasn’t supposed to be pleasant. It was a punishment for her crime.

  “You cannot be seriously considering one week,” she whispered.

  Again, her words lanced through me. Had I already allowed myself to care about her too much? Deep down, had I wanted her to accept our union? Whatever the case, the sting of her rejection hurt more than I expected.

  “What will it be?” Pitt asked again.

  “One,” I retorted loudly and obstinately. I met Olivia’s gaze head-on and watched her eyes fill with surprise. Before she could contradict me, I bent in, captured her lips against mine, and kissed her again.

  Her hand shot out as though she meant to push me away. But as I pressed our kiss deeper, her fingers clutched at my tunic, fisting the front into a wad, and she returned the kiss as she had earlier with a force that matched mine and left me shaken.

  From a distance, I heard Pitt’s pleased laughter along with the guffaws of some of the other men.

  Before I lost all sense of reason and rationale, I forced myself to pull back and break the kiss.

  She ducked her head but not before I caught sight of the yearning in her eyes.

  I let my shoulders relax with the knowledge that whatever she might say, however she might protest, she was drawn to me. I hadn’t imagined her fondness, and I wasn’t the only one feeling something.

  Perhaps I was a fool to agree to Pitt’s plans to have the wedding in one week. It would take time for the earl to receive news of the betrothal. Then he would have to travel to Tolleymuth.

  But another part of me was afraid that even a week was too long and that I’d lose Olivia either way—whether after one week or two. I had to silently rebuke myself with the reminder that she wasn’t really mine, that I couldn’t get involved with her, that she’d be better off without me.

  I was thankful Lady Glynnis had taken leave of the feasting early, complaining of stomach pains. Only a few of her ladies remained to return to her with tales of my behavior with Olivia, of the kiss and the plans to wed at week’s end. She’d taken a disliking to Olivia and wouldn’t be pleased with the news. But I suspected she wouldn’t attempt to harm Olivia again, not as long as I was at Tolleymuth.

  For once, I wasn’t ready for the feast to end. I wanted to lounge at the table with Olivia by my side. But exhaustion was evident in every line of her face. The past few days in the dungeons had taken their toll upon her.

  I excused myself to escort her to the tower and her new chamber there. Two of my squires accompanied us. As we started up the winding tower steps, I led the way. The further I climbed, the more she lagged behind.

  I retraced my steps. “You’re tired, my lady.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I am indeed weary.”

  I handed my torch to one of the squires. Then without asking permission, I scooped Olivia up into my arms and began to ascend again.

  Her eyes widened but she didn’t attempt to escape my hold. “You cannot mean to carry me the rest of the way.”

  “And why not?”

  “You are equally tired from your travels.”

  I was drained from the past few days of riding hard and sleeping little. But I was not so worn-out that I couldn’t assist her.

  She settled against my chest. “I hope you know I am sorry.”

  “Have no care,” I reassured her. She was lightweight compared with other things I was forced to lift. “You aren’t a burden.”

  “No, I would apologize for our betrothal.” Her warm breath tickled my neck. “In spite of your wishes not to remarry, you agreed to Pitt’s stipulations in order to save my life.”

  “As I told you before, I hold myself responsible for bringing you here and putting you at risk.”

  “But if I had behaved above reproach, like Izzy. . .”

  “Izzy is indeed more docile.” I had the feeling that docile or not, Olivia’s presence at Tolleymuth would have stirred trouble. She was too striking and vibrant to blend in with the other women. She was one of a kind, with a sharp mind and a strong will.


  “Since you have been so noble in rescuing me from a perilous fate,” she continued, “I had hoped to find a way to grant you your freedom. Two weeks would give me more time.”

  Was that why she’d wanted to wait two weeks for our wedding? Because she didn’t want to impose on me? “And what if I said I didn’t want my freedom from you, my lady? What then?”

  “But you do,” she said. “You were quite adamant at the dance that you had no wish to take a bride. In fact, you indicated that doing so would bring you no joy, only displeasure.”

  She was right. I had spoken forthrightly about my intentions to avoid Pitt’s scheming, that I’d no desire to remarry, that a woman wouldn’t make me happy. I still believed that to be true, didn’t I?

  My steps slowed as I pondered my feelings of late. “I have no doubt the right woman would bring me a great deal of pleasure.” My words were much too bold, but I sensed we needed to speak the truth to survive the realities of our situation. And the truth was, I enjoyed Olivia’s companionship. “But I wouldn’t be able to bring joy to her in return, rather only heartache and disappointment.”

  “Are you sure you are incapable of bringing a woman joy?” she asked softly. “You have brought much comfort and happiness to me this day with your kindness.”

  Her gentle words commanded my attention. I dropped my gaze to hers to find genuine appreciation in her eyes. And something more: a beckoning.

  Was she asking me to give marriage and love a chance?

  I quickly glanced away. Surely I was reading into her expression more than she intended.

  We reached the top of the stairwell, and I stepped aside at the thickly paneled door that marked the entrance to the tower room to allow my squires to unlock, enter the room, and light the wall sconces. Once inside, I could see that the servants had obeyed my orders to make the room as comfortable as possible.

  The bed, though narrow, was blanketed in a clean coverlet. The mattress was full, the sign that the servants had stuffed it with fresh goose feathers. A small writing table, containing parchment, a quill, an inkpot, along with several books, had been placed under the high barred window. The shutters had been thrown back to allow the night air to cool the room.