“What did your husband do?” The tone of Faulke’s voice told me what he would have done.
“The information I gained from my spy was only hearsay,” I said, “and the word of a spy would hold no weight in my husband’s court.”
“Did you tell your prince or King Rudolph what happened? What really happened?”
“I knew better than to cause trouble within their court. Especially when I had no proof.” The anger I had felt at the injustice of that episode had faded long ago, but I could feel it begin to rise again. “The von Tyrols apologized to the king and to Hartman, they paid the weregild for my knight who was slain in the fight, and that was the end of it. Leopold never came to Grunental again, but Gerhardt was furious when he learned what had happened. Leopold is the reason there are now bars on all of my doors.”
Faulke was still pacing. Silent. I could almost feel the waves of anger radiate from him.
“It was a long time ago,” I said quietly, sorry that I had upset him with the story, and knowing I had one more that would make him even angrier. “It was a lifetime ago, actually. I was still wed to Hartman, you were wed to someone else, and you didn’t even know I existed. There was nothing you could have done then or now to change what happened.”
“Do not humor me,” he ordered.
I folded my hands in my lap and pressed my lips together.
He came to a stop in front of me and put his thumb beneath my chin. “And do not give me that silent look of yours that says you are still humoring me.”
That made me smile. He blew out a frustrated breath, then pulled me to my feet and kissed me. My mouth opened in surprise and he deepened the kiss. His arms swept around me, lifting me to my toes. There was urgency and possession in his kiss, and the heat coming from him was incredible, scorching me. His tongue touched mine, and I forgot all about Leopold and Grunental.
“I would have killed him,” he said at last as his lips skimmed down from the curve of my ear to my throat. “You are mine now, Isabel. No man will threaten you and live to apologize for it.”
His undisguised possessiveness sent a streak of heat through me. “Even if that man is a king?”
An unreadable expression crossed his face. “Has your father made a threat against you?”
“Nay!” I touched my fingers to his cheek. “I don’t know why I asked that question. I cannot think straight when you kiss me.”
In an instant, the light in his eyes changed from anger to a smoldering fire. He covered my hand with his to trap it against his cheek. His gaze dropped to my lips, and then dipped lower. The gown I wore was cut no lower than my others, but he took a deep breath that shuddered on the way out. The sound made me shiver with awareness of the effect I had on him. The heat in his eyes warmed feminine places inside me.
“And I cannot think straight when I hear about dangers to your life before we met.” He moved my hand to his lips and gently kissed the backs of my fingers. “I know you are accustomed to dealing with troubles on your own, but you can lean on me now. Whatever troubles you, tell me, and I will do whatever I can to make it trouble you no more.”
My chest felt tight, and there was a suspicious stinging in my eyes. I laid my head on his shoulder and hid my face against his neck, just in case tears started to leak out. My voice was a little breathless. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I felt him stiffen, as if he were angry again. I began to look up, but he pressed my head back to his shoulder and then his arms went around me. My bones wanted to melt into him, the pull between us magnetic again. The dangerous impulse to give him what he wanted rose up within me, an almost overwhelming need to tell him all of my troubles, and then see if he still wanted me. I was no longer so sure of the answer. Not when his solid strength surrounded me, making me feel safe and protected. I hadn’t felt that way for a very long time.
He took a step backward and I actually tried to cling to him, but he gathered my wrists in his hands and held me at arm’s length. His gaze went to the rows of windows that overlooked this section of the grounds, then returned to give me one of those hungry looks that turned my insides to warm butter. “These gardens are deceptively public, and I am distracted by intentions that should remain private. We need to rejoin the others.”
I nodded reluctantly, then made no objection when he took my hand and led me back toward the great hall.
* * *
—
WE TOOK FAULKE’S daughters shopping the next morning. Despite my nerves, I was determined to create an experience so special that we would all look back on this day with smiles and fond memories. Even Lucy participated at first, when I insisted she should attend, but I regretted my insistence about an hour later when Faulke sent the wailing toddler back to Ashland with her maid and two of our soldiers. Apparently, a two-year-old did not make an ideal shopping companion. Lucy’s defection left me undaunted. She wouldn’t remember the day anyway, and now I had more time to concentrate on winning over Claire and Jane.
Although Claire had begun the day with the same terse responses and dagger glares for me, she became friendlier as the day went on, despite her obvious intent to remain cold and aloof. She was still guarded, but I managed to make her smile on occasion, and once she even squealed when I allowed her to order a pair of ermine-trimmed slippers. Jane was her usual quiet self, but I discovered she liked to shop nearly as much as her sister. The girls’ maids were silent spectators.
It was a good thing Faulke insisted on having so many soldiers accompany us. They made handy receptacles for all the goods we purchased, and dutifully hauled packages from one vendor to the next, most notably fabrics to seamstresses. Both girls were amazed that they would have two new gowns made up for them by strangers within as many days.
After shopping, we stuffed ourselves with pastries, and then walked to London Bridge. There we visited more stalls with trinkets for sale, watched the river traffic as boats and barges and rafts of all sorts competed for space on the Thames, and occasionally spied oceangoing ships with full masts that made the other watercraft look like children’s toys.
Despite the distraction of the girls, Faulke found a way to keep me constantly off balance, like when he reached out to move a stray tendril of hair from my face, or when he made a habit of placing his arm around my waist when we talked to a merchant, or when he brushed a few stray crumbs from my chin when we ate our pastries. I loved when he looked at me. There might have been some staring contests involved.
It was one of the most perfect days of my life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Another Wedding
My second wedding was everything my first was not. The first had taken place in a cathedral with hundreds in attendance. No more than two score attended my second. There were also hundreds of white doves released at the end of the first ceremony, and bells in every church had pealed to let everyone in the city know that their crown prince was wed. Someone belched at the end of my second ceremony, and then several people were overcome with fits of giggles.
Even I smiled at the incongruity, and decided I liked laughter much better than the rigid propriety that had marked my first ceremony. The day itself was not half as stressful as I anticipated. Avalene had been right about the red and black gown. The look in Faulke’s eyes when he realized I had dressed in his colors made all the prodding and fittings and last-minute adjustments to my garments worthwhile. Indeed, each look Faulke and I exchanged made the day worthwhile, and I tried to imprint every image in my memory, to recall for all time.
Aside from the belch and laughter, the ceremony was already beginning to blur in my mind. The small feast in the great hall that followed our wedding was another round of toasts and smiles and well wishes that sent my emotions careening among happiness, anticipation, and panic.
By the time Faulke took my arm and made our excuses to depart, I wa
s tempted to gather my skirts and bolt in the other direction. To where, I had no idea, but something would come to me. Anything was better than what was coming.
Just as I gathered my skirts to flee, Faulke stopped and put his hands on my shoulders to steady me. We were alone in one of the dimly lit passageways that led to my solar, but the concern in his eyes was clear to see.
“What is wrong with you?” he asked.
“N-nothing.”
He gave me a wry look. “You have been shaking like a leaf for the past hour. ’Tis why we left the feast so early. Others were beginning to notice.”
We left early? The feast had seemed endless, but now I could only recall a few of the dozens of dishes I had arranged to be served. This problem I could solve. “I will send word to Reginald, and have him send several courses to the solar for our evening meal.”
“I do not care about the food,” he said with a trace of humor.
“But there is a sugar boat with almond comfits! Those were ordered especially for you. They had better not serve them if we are not present.”
He framed my face in his hands, and his lips curved into a smile. “I love that you remembered my fondness for sugar, but you are the only sweet I need today.”
His head descended, his lips captured mine in a kiss, and I waited for the magic that would make me forget all of my fears and worries. He lifted his head almost immediately, and I made a small mewl of distress. His hands still held my face, and I closed my eyes when his thumb brushed across my mouth. If there was magic, I could not find it in the waves of panic and dread that washed over me. Again I felt as if I were drowning, but this time in a very, very bad way.
“Isabel, your heart is racing so fast that I can see it beat against your chest. Tell me what is wrong.”
My heart chose that moment to sink to the floor, along with my hopes. I could continue to pretend ignorance and let him discover for himself what was wrong with me, or I could confess. I glanced in each direction toward the darkened ends of the passageway, where anyone might overhear. “I will tell you, but not here.”
His gaze held mine for a long moment, and then he gave a short nod of agreement.
The walk to my solar had never seemed so short. We were in my bedchamber all too quickly, with the doors barred from the inside and guards posted outside. It was our wedding night. This time no one would disturb us.
Faulke motioned me to the window seat, and then sat beside me. He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my fingers, the gesture so tender that my eyes were suddenly blurry.
“I am your husband now,” he said in a quiet voice, although I detected a trace of wariness. “You can tell me anything, Isabel.”
Ach, if only that were true. This wasn’t even supposed to be the big secret that the king insisted I keep at all costs. What I had to tell him, only Hartman knew. And Gretchen had only guessed at it. “I am about to disappoint you.”
“How so?” he finally asked when I could not find the words to elaborate.
No matter how long and hard I had thought about this moment, there was no possible way to escape it without humiliating myself. “I am not like most women.”
“I am well aware of that fact.”
It took me a moment to realize we were not talking about the same thing. “Oh. No. That is not what I meant. What I meant is…I do not respond to men the way most women do.”
He gave me an astonished look, and then he began to laugh. Then his expression sobered and his mouth flattened to a straight line. “Do you respond to women?”
“What? No.”
He gave a huff of relief, but he still looked confused. “Then I do not understand what you are trying to tell me.”
“Ach, must I spell it out for you?” If his baffled expression was any indication, the answer was yes. Why did he not understand? “I cannot please a man in bed.”
He gave a short bark of laughter, then visibly struggled to hide his grin. He brushed his fingers along my cheek to lessen the sting of his inappropriate humor, and his eyes darkened a shade. “You have never been to bed with me.”
Goodness. He did not lack in confidence. Not that it would change anything. I bowed my head and stared at the floor. If he laughed at me again, I honestly didn’t know if I would get angry, or break down and cry. “I had hoped it would be different with you, but I recognize the signs anytime we kiss for too long. I do not…respond the way I am supposed to.”
“How do you respond?” he asked.
“My blood turns to ice and I start to shake, as I did in the great hall. My husband said that it was impossible for a frigid woman to please a man.”
“I am your husband now,” he repeated with an edge of anger to his voice, “and I have never said such a thing.”
“Hartman said it was impossible,” I clarified, with my gaze fixed on the floor. Anger I could deal with, and I braced myself for it the longer Faulke remained silent. There was little doubt in my mind that his second wife, Edith, had suffered from a similar affliction, and his magical kisses had not cured her, either.
Finally, he lifted my hand and kissed my fingers. The action was so unexpected that my gaze flew to his face. He cradled my chin in his hand. “How many men have you been with, Isabel?”
“Just my husband, of course!” Now I was indignant. Before I could get righteous about my anger, he pressed his thumb against my lips.
“I am your husband now,” he reminded me again, with an edge of exasperation, “and frigid women do not respond to men the way you respond to me.”
“They don’t?”
He ignored that question. “What do you think about when I kiss you?”
“Colors,” I replied without thinking, “and magnets. But then I start to feel cold when it becomes obvious you want to bed me.”
He thought that over for a while. “What did Hartman do before…that is, what happened before…”
My cheeks burned. I knew what he was trying to ask. “He sent a servant to let my ladies know he would visit my chamber that night.”
Faulke simply stared at me, clearly astonished.
I lifted my chin. “My husband—” I immediately rethought my words when his eyes narrowed. “Hartman was considerate. He tried to keep our encounters as brief as possible, since we both found them distasteful.”
Faulke released a sigh that sounded an equal measure of anger and frustration, and then he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together before him. Well, now he knew. His disappointment was understandable. What man would be happy to know his wife could not please him? On his wedding night? Poor Faulke. He was such a carnal creature, and yet he’d had the misfortune to wed not one, but two women who were frigid. Half of his wives. That had to be some sort of record. Eventually he would find out that I was barren as well.
There was enough pity rolling around my stomach for both of us. Instead of some Welsh barbarian, I found myself wed to a handsome, charming man who would soon hate me. The Fates had not been kind to either of us.
I cleared my throat. “I will try very hard to think about your kisses when we are in bed together.”
He held up one hand without looking at me. “Give me a few moments.”
He returned to his contemplation of the floor, and I returned to contemplating a very bleak future. Finally, I could stand the silence no longer. “What are you thinking?”
“I am thinking about how old you were at your first wedding,” he said, still without looking at me.
“I was a woman,” I told him, “fully blossomed, and already as tall as some men.”
“You were a child of twelve,” he said, “and likely no more than thirteen when you delivered a babe with great difficulty. I have witnessed difficult births. They are nothing a child should see, much less be a part of.”
“But I was not a
child,” I argued.
He turned his head to look at me, and then glanced at the top of my head. “Were you as tall as you are now when you wed?”
“Nay,” I admitted, “I outgrew most of my gowns in the first two years of my marriage.”
“Children become taller,” he said. “Adults do not.”
What that had to do with our situation, I could not piece together. Now that I thought about it, my wedding to Hartman did seem like a long time ago, and I seemed like a very different person in those days, young and naive. But I had been a woman, of that I was sure.
A muscle in Faulke’s jaw kept moving, as if he were grinding his teeth. Likely steeling himself for the night ahead. I steeled my nerves as well. “Should I…should I get into bed now?”
“No.”
Well, that was a relief. But I had no doubt it was only a reprieve. Too much depended upon this marriage for Faulke to let it go unconsummated for even a night, even with the news I had just given him. I was anxious to get it over with.
“Hartman came to my bed countless times,” I told him. “I am ready to do my duty. It might be unpleasant, but I know it won’t kill me. It doesn’t even last that long. If we start now, we might finish in time to send one of the guards to fetch the sugar boat before it’s served.”
His head turned in my direction, but he remained bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped before him. The incredulous look he gave me made my lips press together of their own accord.
My gaze went to the bed and then bounced to the window. The sun was bright and high in the sky. It would be hours before evening, and even more before dawn.
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