by Amber Dane
“Rose was to have given you one of her gowns was she not?” His voice was starting to get that feminine lilt in it, which was a sign he was near rage and but moments away from striking her.
Danielle turned and saw that he now stood just a few paces behind her. He halted when she faced him. She saw the redness coloring his neck. As always, he struck his heavy blows from behind like the coward he was.
Rose bounded into the room in a flurry of emerald and blonde curls and Danielle let out a shaky breath. The malice in her cousin’s eyes met her gaze briefly before Rose pouted and pressed herself against her brother’s side, clutching his forearm.
“I had no gown that would fit her. Please forgive me, brother. Hilda tried to let out my blue one, but even she agreed that there was not enough material to cover Danielle’s girth. Is it my fault that she is so…so…large? Besides, no matter what she wears, her betrothed upon seeing her will hardly notice, because he will be looking anywhere but at our dear and old cousin, Danielle.”
Brother and sister burst into hearty giggles.
Danielle ignored their painful insult. Yea, she was considered a spinster at twenty three summers and needed no one to remind her of it. No good ever came out of their mouths when it came to her. Hilda, Rose’s maid had come to Gravane the same day Thomas had brought Rose here and Danielle disliked her just as much. All three of them did not belong under her roof. But, she had no say in the matter, as Thomas had been mean to her long before her father’s death and her father had allowed it.
But, now, Danielle smoothed a hand over her middle, was not the time to think about that. A part of her hoped that what Rose had said about her betrothed was untrue. Even if he did not find her attractive, he’d been ordered by the king to make the union.
‘Twas to his benefit and hers. She wanted children and would give him that as long as he gave her freedom, had a bit of kindness in him and kept her people safe.
Danielle exhaled as her squawking cousins’ voices brought her back to the matter at hand. “Since my dress matters not, should we not keep our guests waiting any longer?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. It could be no worse meeting the Norman than it was to remain in this room with these two imbeciles.
Perhaps her betrothed would not want her and she would not have to worry about him either and be free. Then her heart sunk, she would never be free with her cousins around. So she did need to marry this man. She prayed again that he’d a bone of decency within him to be the savior they so desperately needed.
Thomas took his time in responding, that sneer he wore like a mask never left his face as he beckoned her forward. “Come, your new master waits. From the sounds coming up from the hall, it appears the heathen barbarians have made their way inside. Make haste.”
Danielle checked the gold rope tied around her waist, it rode low on her hips, over her slightly curved belly and ended in a knot on her left hip. The gold rope matched the gold trim around the neck of her kirtle. Edie had said the color of the gown enhanced her skin. Her brown waist length hair was pulled away from her face in a long braid down her back and ended just below her bottom. Edie had helped her make a crown of greens and matching flowers from her garden to wear as a headdress to keep her bangs away from her face. Danielle knew she was not a beauty nor did she possess the comely or alluring beauty like Rose of fair skin and blonde hair.
No, she had her mother’s coloring and was almost as tall as Thomas. Tears stung her eyes anew at the thought of her dead mother and she lifted her head high and moved past the two out into the hall.
Thomas’s hard grip on her arm caused her to cry out in surprise. She had not seen the move coming. His bony fingers dug painfully into the soft flesh under her arm. Her maid’s gasp could be heard from inside the chamber. Thomas gave her a shake hard enough to rattle the teeth in her head. A wave of dizziness washed over Danielle as his rotten breath swept over her face.
“Nay, dear cousin. Rose and I will descend with you behind. Your betrothed may be a Norman warrior, but even he deserves to be prepared before we present you to him.” He laughed. “And Danielle, I feel I do not have to remind you to hold your tongue and behave in front of our guests.”
Danielle managed a nod or so she thought for red filled her vision as the evil duo glided past her. After a moment, she followed, incensed and descended the stone steps down to the new hell awaiting her.
Chapter 2
Aric sighed with exasperation for the hundredth time, wanting nothing more than to find a chamber, a warm bed and to rest his weary bones. He had ridden his men hard over the past few nights with little rest and the strain of it was evident on their haggard and bearded faces. Half of his men filled the great hall. They had been greeted at the door by an aged servant and led through to the hall. Of what he’d viewed from the door to the hall, pleased him thus far. It was surprisingly cleaner than he’d expected. Tastefully decorated, fine tapestries covered the walls, mostly clean rushes littered the stone floor, and two tall hearths were in the main hall, one near the entrance and the larger one, made of big stones sat directly behind the lord’s chair on the raised dais. Where he currently sat and continued to wait for what seemed forever for the hosts of the manor to make an appearance.
He was close to boiling with rage at the blatant insult of their delayed greeting. He would soon change that lack of respect.
He wiped a large hand down over his face and light beard. It was beginning to itch. He could not wait to shave his face clean and to soak in a tub would be a gift. He was quite dirty and cared not that he had to meet his bride in such a wet and muddy fashion. What did he care what the woman thought? ‘Twas not a marriage based on love. Just a simple business transaction. The way of the times.
Rivulets of rain still sluiced down behind his ears and back. He and his men were from top to bottom soaked through. He just wanted the greet and meet behind him already so he could relieve his men and climb into a warm bed for the night.
There would be plenty enough time on the morrow to see and share appropriate words with his betrothed when he took her to wife, and to show the people here that he was, whether they liked it or not, their new lord. For those that did not wish to swear loyalty, they would be asked to leave all the same or face other consequences.
“Balwain, this young Saxon lad and my betrothed need a lesson or two in what it means to keep their new lord waiting. Do you not agree?” He slid a sidelong glance to his left, where Balwain was seated.
Balwain nodded in agreement. “Aye, I agree. The lady’s cousin, from what we are told is quite the soft one. You think he will reveal his greed for Gravane lands? It is said ‘tis your betrothed that runs this manor and whom makes it so plentiful.”
“Aye, so it is said.” Aric thought of the few men he’d sent on ahead to keep a watchful eye on things before his arrival. “Soon enough all will reveal itself.”
William had discussed his betrothed’s cousin at length. Aric already had a plan in motion to address that matter, later. Now, his gaze swept back to the hall’s entrance, he would deal with meeting his bride. He said, “Balwain, my friend, the inhabitants of Gravane Manor have finally arrived.”
Aric’s scowl darkened. The man entering the hall was indeed quite the pansy. He had seen better fare on troubadours than the linens this peacock was fully draped in. His delicate features confirmed all Aric needed to know. He dropped his gaze to the blonde on the man’s arm and inhaled sharply.
He now understood why whenever he had inquired about the look of his future bride from the spies sent forth, a description was never given. The messengers had been nervous, almost fidgety for fear of saying the wrong thing and chancing insult to their lord’s bride, no doubt. All that had been said was she was quite a sight to behold.
Aric, his ire quickly forgotten, felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. They had not lied. One would be hard pressed not to describe her beauty without lust in the description. He’d his share of comely wenches aplenty duri
ng his twenty seven years, but this one…Only one word came to him.
Enchantress.
She was unquestionably beautiful. A delicate circlet covered most of her hair and kept it away from her unmarred and pale face. He saw his men perk to attention as they too gazed admiringly upon the blonde in the emerald gown.
Aric’s smile slipped from his face as the group drew nearer and he got a closer look. Something was not quite right.
Her gown looked uncomfortably snug and her bosom threatened to spill over. The color of it did not flatter her skin in the slightest. Her cheeks suddenly too flushed and her red lips pinched in what seemed to him, an almost painful grimace instead of a pout.
He pasted what he hoped was a smile on his lips and cast his desires aside. Well, one could not expect everything to be perfect. He sighed and rose as did Balwain.
Aric scarcely spared a glance to the top of the other woman’s head adorned with a flowery headdress trailing behind the two. The peacock reached the head of the trestle table first.
Thomas wanted to pull out his handkerchief and wipe the drool he knew surely was dribbling down his chin. A stunning God stood before him. He had to tamp down his urges as he drank in the sight of the tall, dark, handsome Norman warrior. Eyes almost black as night, and the black tunic near his face gave him the look of the devil. Lust almost paralyzed him with discomfort and he was glad the table stood in front of him. He cleared his throat. “B-aron Aric, Thomas Balfour at your service.” Thomas bowed enthusiastically and produced Rose, whose mouth stood agape. He gave her a little nudge. She shut her mouth. “May I present to you, my sister, Lady Rose.”
Rose wanted to scream. What were the odds that fat sow would gain a prize such as this! With a body like his he could surely pleasure a woman ten times better than that clumsy stable master, Harvey. She suppressed the urge to lick her lips from the look he seared her with. It took a second for her to realize that Thomas had just introduced her.
Aric greeted his hosts with a mixture of emotions. What game was this? He knew the name of his betrothed. The gorgeous blonde was not his intended and to his surprise, upon closer inspection and after hearing her voice, was shocked to find that a part of him was glad she was not.
So then, where was his betrothed? If she looked anything like this one, he could only hope that she possess an improved disposition. For this Rose, just in that brief greeting told him that she was incapable of running such a vast demesne like Gravane.
He must have observed his expression of displeasure, for quickly, the peacock beckoned frantically to the tall woman who stood behind them.
Aric had not spared her a second glance after seeing the blonde, but now, he felt as if a mace had just slammed into his gut.
Thomas drawled on in that irritating nasal tone Aric was fast coming to dislike. “Milord.”
Aric glimpsed the cruelty in the man’s eyes. The bloody peacock was enjoying this way too much.
“Your betrothed, my cousin, the Lady Danielle Ann Gravane.” Thomas finished.
Danielle had paid little attention to her surroundings once they had entered the hall. She’d locked herself away, ever losing hope for a new start with each step they had taken toward what she viewed as her final demise.
She was jostled out of her place of security by Thomas’s mumbling and his nails digging painfully into her wrist. Her anger almost made her reach out and kick him. But instead, she stepped forward, making it a point to stomp down hard with her foot on top of his toes. Thomas forgot himself as the pain reddened his face and dragged her forward forcefully. He presented her as though she were a dish ready to be slaughtered.
The Norman stared at her.
Danielle swallowed as her eyes traveled up the massive chest in front of her, covered in a black tunic.
A very wet tunic, that clung to his body. Up his strong neck, dark beard, his full lips set firmly, a long nose, and hair black as a raven’s breast slicked back on his head and disappeared below his shoulders. But it was the black orbs that met hers, that seemed to bore right through her that caused her knees to shake.
He was quite handsome.
Something flitted quickly in that hard glare and was replaced by a fierce dark scowl that stilled her tongue. The scowl only seemed to further pronounce his handsome features and she noted the small scar above his furrowed brows. He did not look pleased in the least that she was his betrothed and he was not trying to hide his displeasure either with that look of fury on his face.
Thomas shook her. “Danielle!” His snarl filled her ear.
“Remove your hands from her now.” The cold, deep voice reverberated throughout the hall and all sound ceased.
Thomas dropped Danielle’s arm as if it burned him, his cheeks flushed even deeper.
Danielle had to keep her neck bent back to look up at this huge man who would be her husband on the morrow. He was a giant and the man beside him was almost just as large. The breadth of her betrothed shoulders were almost as wide as the high back chair he’d been sitting in.
He held her gaze and suddenly, Danielle wanted to turn and run, but she stood there, trapped.
She wanted to look away, but could not.
She’d known the moment he’d noticed her. His mouth had thinned. Danielle felt a rush of tears burn the back of her lids. His voice had gone through her right down to her toes. His disgust and anger was evident in that single command.
She had believed she had resigned herself to her fate, to this union. But she was wrong.
The fear and hurt she had felt those many months ago when he failed to show, now came back full force.
She had recognized unknown faces about the manor and known they were not of Gravane. These men had obviously gone back and reported to him what he was getting. Deep down inside she had known that was the cause of what had delayed him in coming to claim her. She had been this way for so long, ignored it most of the time, but for some reason, this time she cursed the Gods for having so forsaken her. Rose’s words had come true. She swallowed the deep sadness. There was nothing to do about it now.
He had come.
He had seen.
And by the look of fury blazing in his eyes, he must have realized too he’d no choice. All hopes that he might be the answer to their salvation left her with that one look.
She had indeed gone from one hell and into another. But this one for some reason cut through her deeply.
“Milord,” she said as loudly as she could muster and moved into a curtsey, glad to have a moment to drop her gaze so she could compose herself and blink back the stinging tears.
Aric’s gruff voice came out harsher than intended for he was still seething from the sudden rage that had engulfed him when the peacock had handled her so roughly.
“Milady. Come, sit here.” Aric waved a hand to the chair on his right and Danielle stepped forward and suddenly found herself falling hard against his chest.
The unexpected movement caught them both off guard and Aric’s arms instantly went around her soft middle to steady her. Her fall had not budged him. He shot a menacing glare over her head to Rose. The wench wore a triumphant smile on her face and the spitefulness shone brightly in her eyes. The wench had tripped her apurpose.
Aric moved Danielle back, his large hands on her full hips. “Milady, do you not feel well?”
The last thing he wanted was to cause more humiliation for her than she’d already suffered. It was the sheen of her tears she had tried to hide in those dark blue, almost grey eyes that stopped him from cutting her two cousins down where they stood. Those stunning and unique eyes.
Her top lip bigger than her bottom. She was blessed with full high cheekbones, pinked even more now and a dark mole sat above the right corner of her mouth.
The deep purple of her gown drew out the sparkle in her mesmerizing eyes. Aric felt the light shudder run through her frame. He could not wait to deal with her cousins later. His quick glare over her head to them made that known as the two swall
owed their anxiety loudly.
Danielle found her voice. His hands, burned her skin, surely his mark would be left upon her flesh. She was surprised at that sudden thought and warm tingles pooled in her belly.
“Pardon me, mi-milord, I am fine.” She pressed a hand to her flushed cheek. “Just a bit of nerves, I am sure.”
His brows dipped with his frown. Danielle kept her gaze on him and was pleased when he seemed to read the plea in her eyes. Although he looked ready to protest, he nodded. She was thankful, although now she wished he would remove his hands from her hips. Those tingling sensations moved lower to pool between her legs. She flushed deeper.
Aric dropped his hands quickly and immediately wished he had not, for the pain that sprung forth in those lovely eyes. The look was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He assisted her to her seat.
Introduction to Balwain brought forth a glowing smile from her and Aric found himself stunned and slightly perturbed. When his friend’s eyes lit up and Balwain returned the lady’s smile with the widest grin Aric had ever seen him give another he grunted and sat down hard.
His betrothed said very little and ate next to nothing throughout the feast, whilst her peacock cousin and his sister devoured everything that was set in front of them like pigs.
Aric shared a look with Balwain as they watched the two.
Balwain leaned near him and spoke behind his chalice of wine. “Tomorrow does not come soon enough for those two, milord.”
Aric watched the two siblings. “Nay, it does not. But, patience, my dear friend. Patience.” He would indeed have to watch these two long after tomorrow night. As soon as he and his betrothed vows were complete he would quickly start on the plan he had in motion. William had been right, this cousin was foul, but he played an important role in a matter Aric had still to confirm. Something was definitely not right under this roof.
Even though he was aware of everything around him, his hooded gaze never left the sight of the lady of Gravane for too long.
