by Jo Beverley
Someone had clearly put together some kind of ceremony, for now Lord Henry and Edmund walked forward and knelt behind the monks. Edmund still favored his leg, but didn't seem to be badly troubled by it.
One monk turned and held out a crucifix to them. Edmund first and then Lord Henry, they vowed to guard the banner here, to never try to remove it, and to cease the feud, putting all lingering hurts aside. They bound their families and their heirs to this cause.
When they stood, a silence settled, as if no one could quite believe that it had happened. But then tentative smiles broke, someone laughed and, outside, people began to cheer. Aunt Ellen and Lady Blanche shared a genuine smile.
Lord Henry's priest came forward then, and guided Gerald and Nicolette through their betrothal and wedding vows, blessing their union, though his brow twitched when he said the part about going forth to multiply. Nicolette blushed a fiery red.
When the couple ran out into the fresh air, however, hand in hand, clearly nothing clouded their happiness.
Despite everything, neither family had quite been willing to attend a wedding feast in the other's castle, so food was laid here on trestles, and barrels of ale stood ready. There was plenty for everyone.
Joan nibbled a piece of pork and looked around at playing children and chatting adults content, despite her own unhappiness, with her work. There was lingering wariness, but the seeds of peace had been sown. She had created some of the seed, and it would be a worthy harvest.
As the ladies and gentlemen prepared to return home, leaving the remains of the feast to the peasants, she stepped into the chapel to contemplate the banner one last time. A monk was already in the first vigil there, and a number of simple people knelt in prayer. She stayed back so as to not disturb them. The cloth was still as timeworn and stained, but she fancied it did look more content in this simple place, a cause of harmony not strife.
She turned at last to leave—and came face-to-face with Edmund.
"Oh."
Dimples showed. "Is that your most eloquent commentary on this all?"
Her throat ached with tears, but she must not show it.
"You startled me. It went very well, didn't it?"
"Exceedingly. This is all your work, you know."
She wanted to escape, but he blocked the door. "You came up with this solution."
"But you lit the way." He captured her hand. "I was going to wait, but I sense that you are about to flee."
"You're blocking the door."
"I am clever, sometimes. But I mean I fear you plan to leave from this area."
She tugged her hand, but could not free it. "It is time. I came to be companion to Nicolette." She looked back at the people in prayer. "My lord, this is not the place..."
"It is exactly the place." He captured her other hand. She noted that his arm must be healing well. "Joan, I had to wait until this proved successful."
"Wait?" she queried, looking up at him.
"I want you to know that about me."
She felt as if her mind was hopelessly tangled. "Know what?"
"That I cannot always do what I most want to. That I have to put head before heart."
"Heart?" She heard herself sounding like a complete fool.
"When we left the castle to exchange you for Gerald I wanted to speak then. To tell you that I wanted a chance to win you as my wife. But I couldn't. If I couldn't make peace, we couldn't wed."
Joan just stared at him, trying not to breathe too hard and blow this all awry.
"I've fought over twelve days not to send you a message. I snarled at Gerald because he could risk visiting Woldingham and I could not. But now it seems as if this has worked. Incredibly, perhaps we have peace." He went to one knee.
"Oh, don't!" She'd seen him wince. She glanced behind and saw the peasants had turned to stare. A woman grinned at her.
"Joan," he said, drawing her attention back to him. "You are a wise virgin. I value the first, but very much wish to change the second."
A laugh escaped her. Someone behind chuckled, and he grinned unrepentantly. "Be my bride. My wife. My truth sayer."
She sank to her knees in front of him. "But not stone thrower?"
"Reserve the stones for our enemies." He let go of her hands and cradled her face, searching her eyes. "Do I have you?"
She covered his hands, part tenderness, part defense. "I don't know how to be Lady of Mountgrave."
"It needs your irreverent style, but my mother will teach you."
"Your mother doesn't like me!"
"My mother is waiting anxiously for me to tell her I haven't made a mess of this. She was only worried about yet more trouble with the de Montelans. Say yes, Joan. Please." He winced. "My leg feels tortured."
She leaped to her feet and helped him up, scolding. "How could you be so foolish! There was no need to kneel to me."
He captured her and kissed her. "Yes, there was. But if I'd not thought you'd run away, that was another reason to wait a week or two."
"What did you think I was going to do? Go straight to a convent and take vows?"
"I would put nothing past you. Or you might have seized the first lazy old man you saw and married him."
She snuggled against his chest, dazzled, dazed—and slightly scratched by his gold embroidery. She pushed away.
He touched her face with a grimace. "As you see, I will not always be a comfortable husband. You haven't said yes. I cannot change much for you, Joan. I am the Golden Lion and the Lord of Mountgrave. Too many people depend on me."
"I don't want you to change." She reached up to touch his face. "I'm sure there'll be days when I wonder why I fell into this gilded trap, but you make me so happy, Edmund. And you seem happy with me. With me."
He turned his head and kissed her palm, then lowered to kiss her lips. "You are my most precious treasure, Joan of Hawes. You."
"You're going to make me cry," she said, rubbing her face against his chest—and scratching it again. She pulled free. "Take it off."
After a moment, he grinned, unfastened his belt and struggled out of the long, glittering gown to stand in a simple shirt and braies. "That, at least, I can do." He pulled her into a warm—and painless—embrace.
When they emerged from their kiss, cheers started, and Joan looked around to find every window crowded and a throng behind Edmund. She hid her burning face against his chest, and this time it didn't hurt.
Laughing, he swept up his rich garment and tossed it to his grinning squire, then led her out into the fresh air and smiling faces. His mother beamed, and brought his two children over to be the first to hear the news.
Before going to greet her new family, Joan turned at the last moment and curtsied to the silent banner. "Bless us all, Lord Jesus, de Montelan and de Graves, and all the simple people here. Bless us all forever."
The End
Dear Reader,
Thank you for purchasing The Wise Virgin by New York Times &USA Today bestselling author Jo Beverley. We hope you enjoyed the story and will leave a review at the eRetailer where you purchased the book.
If you enjoy getting free and discounted ebooks, we announce our book sales and freebies through eBook Discovery. You can get eBook Discovery's free Daily eZine and Special Offer alerts to limited-time free and discounted ebook deals by signing up here.
Happy Reading,
ePublishing Works!
Want more from Jo Beverley?
Here's an excerpt from
AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE
The Company of Rogues
Book One
~
Nicholas has arranged for his friends, the Company of Rogues, to keep Eleanor company, but when she holds a small party, he attends to keep up appearances...
Eleanor was pleased to see Nicholas exerting his charm to secure the success of the event, but this also led to bitterness. If he can turn it on and off so easily, she thought, why can't he turn it on for me now and then? She was amused by Peter's jealous care of Amy un
til she compared it to Nicholas's casual regard of herself.
Lord Middlethorpe, standing beside her, said, "Now what in the sight of those sickening young lovers can be making you look so sad?"
"I'm just worrying about arrangements. This is my first real party, you know."
But he shook his head. "Won't do, Eleanor. May I try my hand at mind-reading? You were looking at Peter and Amy and wishing Nicholas was hovering over you in the same way."
She knew she had colored and did not attempt to deny it.
"He wouldn't be a very good host if he did that, you know. And perhaps he trusts you rather more than Peter appears to trust Amy."
Eleanor was betrayed into bitter speech. "He wouldn't care, I dare say, if I were to throw myself into another man's arms."
Surprisingly, Lord Middlethorpe laughed. "You obviously don't know Nicholas, even yet." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Jealousy is a not very attractive reflection of possessiveness, but would it make you happy if he were jealous?"
"Francis, this is most improper, and very silly. I can't...." Under his gently insistent look she said, "Yes. Yes, it would."
"Come then," he said and held out his arm. "Show me some particular book in the library."
Eleanor looked over at her oblivious husband then put her hand on Lord Middlethorpe's arm and allowed him to lead her from the room. "You expect him to come after us? I doubt he will even notice I have left the room, never mind who with."
"I, however, know I am taking my life in my hands."
His sensitive eyes reflected all his concern for her. Why was she surrounded by care from everyone except the one....
"Cheer up, or you'll have me thinking I am very poor company."
As they entered the darkened library Eleanor said, "Indeed you are not. I don't know what I would do without your friendship, Francis."
He lit the candles with a taper from the low fire and looked around. "Well, which book are you so anxious to share with me?"
Eleanor shrugged, and took up the folder of Chinese prints. "Have you seen these? They are exquisite."
He turned the sheets carefully. "Very fine. I have some similar but none as delicate as these."
Eleanor relaxed as usual into the pleasure of his company. They were studying the prints, Eleanor seated and Francis leaning over her shoulder, when the door opened and Nicholas entered. He closed the door quietly behind him.
Eleanor blushed, and Francis smiled.
Nicholas could not be said to be angry, and yet there had been a flash in his eyes when he first entered. Eleanor had to force herself not to leap to her feet and stammer out excuses.
He strolled over to the table. "You are admiring these? I think we should have them mounted."
"Yes," Francis replied, in an equally light tone. "A shame to hide them, but be careful the light does not spoil them. Treasures need to be cherished." He quietly left the room.
At the click of the door Eleanor looked up in alarm. Nicholas was studying her with careful attention.
"Has something in particular upset you?" They both knew he was not referring to the state of their marriage.
"No, nothing at all," she said hurriedly. "We must go back. It does not do for us both to be neglecting our guests."
"I think everyone is quite content for the moment."
He perched on the corner of the table beside her chair. It was a more intimate situation than any they had been in for weeks. Idly, he twirled one of her curls around his finger.
She found she could not look at him.
His voice came softly in the quiet room. "You are being very brave and very careful, Eleanor. You cannot know how grateful I am."
There was a magic in the moment, but it evaporated when she remembered what he was doing with the time she was so generously allowing him. She was trying, head still lowered, to decide on her response when he spoke again.
"Would it help to know that I am finding this time as difficult as you? And, I suspect, for many of the same reasons."
Surprised, she responded with a slight nod, anger melting into swallowed tears, equal parts grief and happiness. She did not understand what he was saying but his tone of deep concern was balm for her pride. At least he felt something for her.
But then he stood up abruptly, facing away from her. His voice was rough as he said, "I cannot explain things, Eleanor, and believe me, it wouldn't help if I could. Come, we must go back."
When he turned to offer her his arm she rose obediently, knowing no way to make any sense of him. His movement was arrested, and then changed. He raised his hands to cradle her face and she knew the hint of tears must be there, no matter how gallantly she smiled.
"Oh, Eleanor. I cannot even ask forgiveness, my dear."
He leant forward until his lips caressed hers. It was a kiss which spoke more of caring than of need, but there was a sweetness to be so close, to be wrapped in his concern, if not in his arms...
"Oh God." He wrenched back. She saw the bewildering need in his tortured eyes before he turned and left the room.
~
To purchase
An Arranged Marriage
from your favorite eBook Retailer,
visit Jo Beverley's eBook Discovery Author Page
www.ebookdiscovery.com/JoBeverley
~
Discover more with
eBookDiscovery.com
Publishers Weekly declared Jo Beverley "Arguably today's most skillful writer of intelligent historical romance..." Her work has been described as "Sublime!" by Booklist, and Romantic Times described her as "one of the great names of the genre."
She is the NYT bestselling author of over thirty historical romance novels, all set in her native England in the medieval, Georgian, and Regency periods. Her novels have won the RITA, romance's top award, five times, and she is a member of Romance Writers of America's Hall of Fame.
She also writes some romantic stories with a science fiction and fantasy twist. The Trouble With Heroes... won the Sapphire Award for Best SF Romance, and The Marrying Maid was an honorable mention for Best SF 2011.
Her web site is www.jobev.com, and she regularly blogs at Word Wenches. www.wordwenches.com. You can also find her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jo.beverley
She firmly believes that reading should be fun, and that every book should leave the reader with a smile.
