Blaze Wyndham

by Bertrice Small

  “Ahhhhh, sweetheart! Ahhhhh!” groaned Edmund in his ecstasy.

  “Ohhh, my darling, yes! Yes! Yes!” Blaze cried in return.

  Galvanized by the sound of their voices, Anthony recovered himself and slipped shaken from the stables. For the briefest of moments he had, as he watched the couple, imagined himself in Edmund’s place. Thought of what it would be like to plunge himself deep into Blaze’s eager sweetness. For the tiniest heartbeat he had envied Edmund, and he wanted to yank him off the writhing woman beneath him and take his place. With that admission came the horrifying realization that he desired his uncle’s wife. He wanted Blaze for his own!

  Anthony Wyndham closed his eyes, anguished. Was he in love with Blaze, or had the blatant sensuousness of the scene merely aroused his own lusts so that they fastened upon Edmund’s bride? He did not honestly know. I have got to take a wife of my own, he thought desperately. If I do not find myself a bride and settle down to the business of having my own family, I shall never really be happy. Automatically he walked toward the house and was admitted entry.

  “My lord and my lady are out riding,” said the majordomo. “They are expected back soon, Master Anthony, if you would care to await them.”

  He nodded blindly, and was led into the library, where a warm apple-wood fire burned. Throwing himself into a chair, he accepted the goblet of Rhenish that the attending footman handed him before leaving him to his thoughts. God’s foot! She was so lovely! So damnably lovely! Even now the reminiscence left him burning with desire, and he was ashamed. Blaze was a respectable woman who had never offered him the slightest encouragement. She was in love with her husband, who was not just his uncle, but the best friend he had in all the world. What kind of a man coveted his best friend’s wife? The very thought made him almost physically ill.

  Abruptly he stood up. He had to leave. He had to go before they even knew that he was here. How could he face them, having seen what he had seen in the darkened stable, and feeling as he now did? Before he could stop himself, the memory slammed into him again. The shaft of sunlight filled with dancing dust, the golden beam grazing her bare knee only to bury itself in the straw upon which she lay. The rustle of that straw. The groans of pleasure from Edmund, coupled with the little cries of rapture that issued forth from Blaze’s straining throat.

  “Tony!” Edmund had entered his library unheard or unseen by his nephew. “By the rood, you are deep in thought, man! What brings you to RiversEdge?”

  For a moment Anthony could not focus his eyes, but when he did he felt almost a sense of physical pain, for his uncle’s face shone with such happiness that the younger man’s guilt assailed him sorely.

  “Tony? Is anything amiss?” Edmund had noticed his nephew’s discomfort.

  Quickly Anthony regained control of himself, and said, “Nay, Edmund, nothing is wrong. Mother sent me over because she would invite you to my birthday celebration on the thirtieth. Will you and Blaze come?”

  “November the thirtieth? Good Lord, Tony!” the earl exploded. “That is Blaze’s birthday too! She will be sixteen. Had you not reminded me, I should have forgotten all about it. My mind is otherwise occupied these days. Nay, we will not come to Riverside. It is you who must come here. I must plan a surprise fete for my bride! What can I give her? I know! I shall send for some of her sisters to come! Is that not a wonderful idea? She misses her family greatly, you know.”

  “Aye, ’twould be a fine gift, Edmund,” Anthony answered low.

  “Give you a chance to look over Blaze’s sisters and consider whether one of them might not make you a suitable wife. You’re past thirty, nephew! I’m but four years your senior, and I’m already on my second wife, while you’ve had none,” teased Edmund. “Believe me, Tony, a pretty young wife is a wonderful thing! I’ve never been happier!”

  “So,” Anthony said in what he hoped was his formerly mocking banter, “you have at long last breached your bride’s maiden defenses. It took you long enough, uncle.”

  “Ahhhh,” chortled Edmund, “but she was well worth the wait, nephew! Catherine, may God assoil her sweet soul, was never enthusiastic about our coupling, though she did it gladly enough to gain us children. Blaze, however, is a different story. Never have I known such passion in a woman! The little witch is nigh to wearing me out, Tony! No wonder Lord Morgan spawned himself nine children. These things are inherited, and certainly the mother is as passionate as the daughter. You would not do badly to take one of Blaze’s sisters for your own. Your nights would be spent in paradise, I assure you!”

  “I shall certainly consider it,” replied Anthony dryly, “and I shall pass your message on to my mother about surprising my aunt.”

  Anthony returned to his own home to find his mother thoroughly approved her brother’s idea of surprising his bride with a fete on her sixteenth birthday.

  “Blaze’s birthday is more important than yours,” she told her startled son. Then she smiled archly. “I like the idea of Edmund’s asking his sisters-in-law to come. It will give us an opportunity to look them over to see which one would be a suitable wife for you, Tony.”

  “I do not think Edmund will ask all of the Morgan sisters this time. Besides, only two or three of them are old enough to marry. Have you considered the possibility, Mother, that none will suit me?” Anthony teased his parent.

  “Nonsense,” bristled Lady Wyndham. “They are bound to be pretty, which is an advantage. They all have respectable dowries, thanks to Edmund, and other than that, all you want is a healthy, strong young breeder, my lad. You need only pick the one who is most amiable to you. It is quite simple.”

  “Nay, Mother, it is not. I would have love both from and for my wife,” he answered her.

  “God’s foot, Tony! You sound like a moonstruck virgin,” snapped his mother, “and that I know you are not!”

  “Do you not love my father?” he demanded.

  “Of course I love your father, but it is a love that came and grew after our marriage. You know that Edmund and I have different mothers. Mine, God assoil her, was as plain as a pikestaff, and so am I! Your grandfather was not a man to waste gold needlessly, and he quickly saw that not even a great dowry would gain me a great marriage. On the other hand, his younger brother’s heir was willing to have me for what your grandfather considered a more reasonable dowry. So I was wed to your father, who is a kind and good man whom I have grown to love and respect over the years.

  “A marriage, Tony, must be worked at to succeed. You choose a good girl from a good family with a decent portion with whom you can get on, and then you strive to make your happiness. That is the way it has always been. What is this foolishness you prattle about love? Love will come if you seek it, but it comes after a match, certainly not before!”

  He did not argue with her, for it would have done him no good. How could he explain to his mother that he was already in love? In love with Edmund’s wife. Or was it love? Perhaps his mother was right after all. Perhaps love came after a marriage, and not before. Certainly it had been that way with Edmund and Blaze. He would keep from RiversEdge until the thirtieth, for it would give his emotions time to cool. Then with a clear mind and conscience he would attend Blaze’s birthday fete prepared to choose one of her sisters for his wife.

  He was surprised, however, to discover some ten days later that life did not always go as smoothly as one planned. Arriving at RiversEdge with his parents, he found that he was not the only eligible male invited to the feast. Owen FitzHugh, the Earl of Marwood, was already there. So was Lord Nicholas Kingsley of Kirkwood. Bliss, Blythe, and Delight Morgan had already arrived to surprise their eldest sister.

  Lady Dorothy hummed her approval beneath her breath. “As pretty a trio of pigeons as I’ve ever seen,” she said with a smile at both her husband and her son. “Any one of the three will do, my lad, but you had best move quickly. Nick Kingsley and Owen FitzHugh will not stand tongue-tied and idle with such quarry about, and both are wife hunting I am told.”


  “Which one would you prefer, Mother?” he teased her.

  “The older the better for breeding purposes,” she returned, not one whit put out by his sarcasm.

  Her husband chuckled. “He may not have the choice, my love,” noted Lord Richard. “See how one of the twins stalks poor Marwood, and the other, Kingsley is clearly smitten with her. I think Lord Morgan will soon find himself short several daughters.”

  Lord Wyndham of Riverside was a perceptive man, as his wife well knew, and looking more closely, she was distressed. Bliss Morgan had clearly set her sights upon Owen FitzHugh, and was flirting with him in a most charmingly outrageous manner. The Earl of Marwood, who spent most of his time at the king’s court, was both amused and enchanted by her, for although she was bold, her innocence was clearly apparent.

  Her identical twin was obviously the opposite side of the coin, and where Bliss was forward, Blythe was shyer. This character trait was evidently most appealing to Nicholas Kingsley, who had a bemused and besotted look upon his face as he hovered about Blythe like a moth about a candle.

  “Doro! Richard! Nephew! Welcome to my wife’s birthday fete,” said Edmund Wyndham, coming forward with Blaze. They were both smiling, and Anthony felt a momentary pain in his chest.

  Blaze curtsied prettily to the gentlemen, but then caught at her sister-in-law’s hand to draw her forward. “Come and meet my sisters, Doro! Edmund has brought them to RiversEdge to surprise me! Was that not the most wonderful birthday gift?!”

  “Surely he has given you something else as well,” the good lady commented with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Ohh, yes! My lord is the most generous of husbands, and you shall see his generosity tonight. Sapphires, Doro! The most beautiful necklace and earbobs of blue sapphires with just the merest hint of violet in them. Edmund says they reminded him of my eyes.”

  “My brother waxes poetic these days,” chuckled Lady Dorothy.

  The earl flushed at his elder sister’s words, much to her great amusement. “Do not tease me, Doro,” he said pleadingly. “I cannot help it if I am in love with this minx.”

  Dorothy Wyndham reached out with her free hand and gently touched her brother’s cheek. “You deserve to be happy, dearest,” she said quietly before she was drawn off by Blaze, who hurried her away across the room to meet her siblings.

  The elder Lady Wyndham openly assessed the trio presented to her. The twins, who had turned fifteen earlier in the month, were both exquisite beauties. Though identical, she quickly found that the key to identifying them correctly was in their countenances. The indomitable Bliss had a sharpness of expression that was missing in the sweeter look of gentle Blythe. No honey-tongued miss, this one, thought Lady Dorothy. It was well she had set her sights upon Owen FitzHugh, for Bliss would be at constant sword’s point with Anthony, his mother could easily see. As for the other twin, Lady Dorothy could see she was too soft a creature for Tony. He would be bored within a week.

  Her glance turned to the youngest of the trio. “And who, my dear Blaze, is this pretty wench?” she demanded with a toothy smile.

  “This is Delight,” replied Blaze with a smile. “She is my parents’ fourth-born.”

  Lady Dorothy assessed Delight openly, and decided that she was a pretty girl with her dark brown curls, and her deep blue eyes. “And how old are you, my child?” she asked Delight.

  “I will be fourteen June seventh next,” came the pert reply. “My womanhood is upon me, and I am ready to wed.”

  “Delight!” shrieked her scandalized elder sisters.

  “ ’Pon my soul!” laughed Lady Dorothy. “You are most frank, child.”

  “I think Master Anthony is the handsomest man in the whole world,” sighed Delight.

  “Do you indeed?” His mother smiled. “Well, I shall tell you a secret, Delight. I think Anthony is the handsomest man in the world too. He does not take after me a bit, thank heaven! He is all Wyndham.”

  “Why is he not wed then?” was Delight’s query, much to her sisters’ chagrin.

  “He has not found the right girl yet,” was the reply.

  “Delight, there is a smudge of dirt upon your left cheek, and your hair is now in disarray because of your romp with the puppies. Go and repair your coiffure and wash your face,” ordered Blaze. “Mother would be so shocked.”

  With a quick curtsy to her sister and Lady Dorothy, the young girl hurried off.

  “You must forgive her,” said Blaze. “It is her first time away from home, and she has always had the habit of saying exactly what comes into her head.”

  “A most embarrassing habit,” said Bliss tartly, and Lady Dorothy decided for good and all that Bliss Morgan would be a most unsuitable daughter-in-law.

  “Delight did not mean to be rude, madam,” said Blythe. “I believe she harbors a secret tenderness for Lord Anthony. She is but nearly come to womanhood, and like most girls in her state, apt to be overly romantic.”

  “I find her a charming child, as are you, my dear,” replied Lady Dorothy, deliberately leaving out Bliss, who, though wise to the slight done her, was obviously not in the least put out by it.

  That evening Lady Dorothy could see most clearly how the wind blew with regard to her matchmaking. A marvelous feast was held in the Great Hall of RiversEdge. All the gentry within the region had been invited to celebrate the young countess’s sixteenth birthday. Many eligible young men crowded about the Morgan sisters, who were gowned and bejeweled to befit their natural beauty.

  Blaze wore a gown of violet-colored velvet, its heavily embroidered underskirt encrusted with gold, pearls, and crystal beads. The square neckline of the gown was low, and her lovely round breasts swelled dangerously above the fabric. The bell-like sleeves were sewn with gold threads and pearls. She wore her birthday gift from her husband—a magnificent necklace and matching earbobs of violet-blue sapphires set in rich gold. Lady Dorothy was pleased to see, despite a coterie of admirers, that Blaze had eyes only for her husband, who could not resist reaching out occasionally and touching his bride’s pretty curls.

  The twins were garbed in a rich-looking midnight-blue velvet whose lighter blue underskirts were embroidered in silver threads and seed pearls. When the sisters had been invited to RiversEdge they had been told that new wardrobes awaited them so they need bring nothing but themselves. In their wildest imaginations they had not dreamed that such luxuries as Edmund Wyndham provided for them could exist. Bliss and Blythe’s lovely yellow-blond hair was held back with silver ribbons, and about their necks were strands of fine pearls interspersed with pink crystal beads.

  As for Delight Morgan, she could barely contain her excitement, for her very grown-up gown was a deep ruby-red velvet whose red silk underskirt was embroidered in black silk threads. Red velvet ribbons contained her luxuriant dark chestnut curls, and about her slender little neck and in her ears sparkled garnets of the first quality. Though the twins teased her about her lack of a bosom, her happiness could not be deflated. Her blue eyes followed Anthony Wyndham wherever he went, although the gentleman knew it not. Nor could he know of her innocent prayers to the Blessed Mother that he fall in love with her. She would have been heartbroken to know that he thought of her only as a charming child.

  After the feasting was over, the tables in the Great Hall were pushed aside, and there was dancing. The other gentlemen soon found themselves cut out with regard to the twins by milords FitzHugh and Kingsley. Soon, however, in the general merriment and drinking that went on, no one even noticed that Bliss and Blythe were absent from the company. Blythe, her small hand tucked through Lord Kingsley’s arm, walked quietly with him in the picture gallery of RiversEdge. Their low conversation could not be overheard by anyone, but had there been anyone there to view the scene, Nicholas Kingsley’s open and complete adoration of the girl with whom he walked was easily discernible upon his homely face. Blythe did not seem in the least distressed by her companion’s plain features. Rather she seemed to hang upon his every word.<
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  As for Bliss, she found herself suddenly in a rather deserted alcove at one end of the Great Hall, where, though she could easily hear the sound of gaiety from her eldest sister’s birthday celebration, neither she nor her companion could be seen. Owen FitzHugh towered over her, a wolfish look upon his very handsome, somewhat sharp features. He grinned down at her, and Bliss, looking back up at him, had to force herself not to shiver.

  “Well, puss, here we are,” the Earl of Marwood said quietly.

  “Indeed, sir, and why are we here?” she countered bravely.

  “So I might kiss you, pretty puss. You have the most adorable mouth, but then that is obvious, and you have undoubtedly been told it a hundred times or more,” he said.

  “Nay, sir, I have not,” Bliss answered him. “My sisters and I lead quiet, indeed almost solitary lives at Ashby.” Her look was cool, but her heart was hammering with excitement. So this was flirting!

  “You have not been courted before?” His look was disbelieving.

  “Are you then courting me, sir?” Her sapphire-blue eyes feigned surprise.

  He pinioned her gently against the stone wall of the alcove, saying as he did, “Mayhap, so give me a kiss then, puss,” but Bliss managed to duck away from his faulty aim.

  “Sir!” Her tone was one of outrage. “Our parents have warned us of such lechery as yours. My kisses are saved for he who weds me, and are not to be given lightly or carelessly to any who ask! Release me this instant!”

  “Are you telling me that you have never been kissed, Mistress Morgan?” His dark eyes searched her beautiful face for the truth. She was the most exquisite creature he had ever beheld, and he knew even as he trifled with her that he must have her for his own. He would have to spend the rest of his life guarding her virtue from others, lest he find himself cuckolded. Such beauty as Bliss Morgan’s led only to trouble, yet even acknowledging this truth, he could never let another man have her.